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thesummerpetrichor · 4 months ago

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𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓐𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother forces you to tag along on Javi’s trip to New York. She says you need to learn to get along. And get along you do. Aka horny, drunk, high, debauched sex with stepdad Javi. Part 2 of ‘Teasing like you do’.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, stepdad trope and all that comes with, dubious morals and relationship, age gap [reader is 18/19 Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames [ Bunny], mommy & daddy issues ™ , deceased parent, angst, DUBCON, alcohol consumption, drug use, cigarette smoking, inebriated sex, brat tamer!softdom!Javi, subby! brat!reader, f masturbation, rough sex, major size kink [Javi is bigger than reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, praise kink, daddy kink and dd/lg vibes, dirty talk, finger sucking, c*meating?, choking, spanking [with hands] , hair pulling [no hair type specified], dry humping, somno, messy sex, fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], multiple orgasms and creamp*es. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 9k

A/N: This Javi is honestly my fav that I’ve written. This is part 2/3, and it’s double the fun from last time. Javi is just so soft (and crazy) and there’s so much smut and some angst for you nasties. Combined the top two highest votes answers from this poll! Thanks to all who voted!! Hope you enjoy! Mwah!

🌼 Part I 🌼 Masterlist

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

“New York?” You raise your brow and watch your mother fold the kitchen towels and toss them onto the counter one by one. “Yes. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s here to stay, and you’re going to like it, and him. That’s final.” Oh, you do like him—her husband, that is. In fact, you arguably get on a bit too well. You bite your lip to keep from commenting on her sour tone. She doesn’t need to know you and Javier had become quite well acquainted over the weekend—if him taking your virginity was any indication.

Even though her tone sets your teeth on edge, you spare yourself the crisis of revealing you are sleeping with her husband and instead decide to take up the opportunity she offers you on a silver platter with a curt nod and some feigned annoyance.

Your mum brings it up to her husband at dinner. He's eating and he looks up at her for a moment before shrugging and agreeing it would be a good chance to bond. Javier is even better at feigning his own indifference to the suggestion, so much so, in fact you’re afraid fooling around with you is not in fact part of his plans in New York. Its been two days since he’s fucked you and you’re always on edge. He hasn’t been around the house much because he's dealing with the fallout of the raid and it's driving you wild.

You’ve spent the nights desperately grinding against your plush pillows but it seems like he's the only person that can actually get you off. Ever since you actually felt what it was like to cum you can't get enough and you’re resenting him for every moment he’s not between your legs.

Safe to say you’re desperately counting on this not being a one time thing.

After dinner you busy yourself with the clearing up, and your mother leaves to answer the phone just as Javi brings the last pot from the table to the kitchen counter. It's the first time you’re alone with him since the weekend and as he leaves he comes up behind you to lean beside your ear. He snaps the strap of your bra and kisses your shoulder. “Gonna let me fill this tight little pussy up again?”

He shifts his hands to your waist. It's the second time he's touched you this way, and this time you can feel the cool metal of his wedding band graze your warm skin. You swallow, then look towards the livingroom to see the shadow of your mum walking around with the landline in her hand, chatting away to a neighbour. You nod your head, and after lowly chuckling Javi reaches a hand down to grab a handful of your ass. When he squeezes you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning.

“Good, bunny.” He slaps your ass for good measure and you hear his footsteps get distant as he leaves the kitchen and walks up the stairs.

At night you try to sleep but you’re too horny and wet. The feeling of his hands on your body drive you crazy and nothing can distract from it. The room is quiet and it's so hot you’ve got every window open. The cool breeze from outside grazes your skin and you flinch. You're too sensitive.

You toss and turn for a while but you can’t help yourself, you groan and your hand drifts under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers slip between your folds and you’re dripping. A quiet breathy sigh escapes your lips as you spread your wetness and rub your cunt.

Your other hand squeezes at your breast under your sleep shirt and you moan, you’re so on edge you think you might just make yourself cum. You rub yourself a little while longer, teetering on the edge but somehow unable to tip over it. Your hand is drenched and you feel your slick smear against your inner thighs. Even still you can’t seem to get there. You dip a finger into your weeping entrance and shiver. You wonder if you felt the same to Javi, your fingers surely didn’t feel like his.

You sink back against your pillows.

You're staring at the ceiling a good twenty minutes when you hear the front door shutting from outside. Bounding to the window you lean over its edge to see Javier getting into his car, one hand shoving his gun into his holster. He's a little shadow, a little splodge of navy blue against a background of swishing greens, and blacks and little orange lights.

A pit in your stomach grows when the car pulls out of the driveway and into the street. It makes you sick to admit but you worry when he runs out like that in the middle of the night. You wonder where he's off too, you have always wished he was safe. Even when he wasn’t fucking you, he might have been the best thing to happen to your family in a while.

Hell, even when you thought you hated his guts, you knew he was the only good thing to happen to your family in a while. And you weren’t an idiot. Sure, to say you and your mother got along would be gracious, but she too lost a husband when you lost a father. She spent her days alone in a home she built from the ground up with the love of her life.

At some level, you forgave her, you loved her. When you first slept with him, you felt guilty, you felt like you were robbing her of the one good thing she had. But part of you wanted to avenge that little girl who got packed away, who had nowhere safe to go, who had no one. Javier could be your someone, at least intermittently, and while you didn’t blame her for what she did, no amount of intellectualising your suffering could make it better.

She knew she couldn’t raise you alone so she decided not to raise you at all, and it was perhaps that that disheartened you the most.

You notice the lights go out in the neighbours living room, you see shadows climb up the stairs. There's not much you can do besides return to bed and try to get some rest.

—

The trip comes around quicker than you expect. Before you know it your bags are packed and you’re boarding a plane with Javi. He is preoccupied with whatever it is he’s in New York for, so you’re spared the presumably awkward travel conversation. He lets you doze against his shoulder, and when you land he’s slinging your luggage over that same shoulder. It's a small bag but it isn’t weightless. You like how he makes it seem like it is. If only he knew about the skimpy lingerie he was lugging around. New York delights you with the warm, sunny weather.

Once you’re actually at the hotel, you're barely there for ten minutes. “Twin beds?” the lady at the reception asks your stepfather, already expecting a yes. You can tell with the look on her face. You feel a little embarrassed that she’s even asking, but that embarrassment deepens tenfold when Javier stops her. “A double is fine” She quickly nods her head, looking nothing short of uncomfortable. Perhaps the only person more shocked is you. Your face burns and you look away. She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you are to each other, but just seeing you two together would even have you embarrassed.

Either way it's enough time to get rid of your luggage before Javi insists you get some food in you. He’s so preoccupied with whatever’s going on with his job you decide not to give him too much of a hard time. You’ll save that for later.

He’s on the phone so much. He looks upset and stressed– as much as he lets himself look, that is. Even then he takes your hand in his when you cross the street, pulls you to his side when you’re in a crowd. He leads you into a coffee shop and finally gets off his mobile phone.

By the time you’re sitting down with your coffee– well his coffee and your ice tea, you’re dying for him to pay attention to you. You twirl the straw between your lips and look up at him. He’s preoccupied, you can tell.

When he's done restlessly tapping his fingers against the table he opens up the file he’s been lugging around all day, and a pen from his pocket. You think you spend ten whole minutes in silence, watching him annotate the swarm of papers inside.

New york is as “hustle bustle” as you remember, the glass facade buildings are bouncing rays of sunshine off one another, the sky is that perfect shade of powder blue. There are so many people bumbling outside, all like little insects fleeting about. You observe them from the window, they don't pay attention to you, or anyone for that matter– they’re looking ahead.

The last time you had been here was with your father– you can see the hotel you stayed at from where you’re sitting. You have to crane your neck a bit though– Javier is disrupting the view.

He doesn't notice when you get up from your seat and saunter towards the cafe counter. He didn’t notice you eyeing the red lollipops from your table the entire afternoon so you’re not surprised. But when you sit back down, lollipop in hand, and drag your foot up his calf under the table? Now that catches his attention.

He watches you wrap your lips around it, watches you pucker them up and lick the underside of the sweet treat. Your lips part and you take it in your mouth, rolling the stick between your fingers with a knowing smile plastered across your face. It shines all glossy when you release it with a pop, and you run it along your bottom lip as Javi takes a strained sip from his cup of coffee.

He tries to feign annoyance but a smile breaks through and he scoffs lightheartedly at your antics. The whole atmosphere is quite lighthearted. You felt warm and happy on the inside. You're glad you came.

The rest of lunch passes in relative silence, and a comfortable silence. You finish your meal, and actually don’t mind the quiet time with Javi as he works on preparing for his meeting later in the evening. He lets you play footsie with him under the table, lets you play with his fingers as they rest idly against the tablecloth.

On the way out he gets you another lollipop on request, and watches keenly as you unwrap it and pop it between your lips. The pink colouring stains your tongue when you release it and his eyes bloom with lust as he notices. They linger on your lips as they shine in the sun and the two of you step out of the cafe.

He reaches forward, swipes his thumb on the corner of your mouth and pulls you against him. His eyes are glossy when he strokes your head gently. When he leans down his lips brush your forehead and his voice is lower than usual.

“Messy little girl.”

You skip ahead of him and into the street, then wait a few seconds for him to catch up. He’s already on the phone again and he's arguing with someone, he tosses you a few coins and gestures to the little shop beside you. Somehow you think you know what he's asking, so you hop in and snag him a pack of cigs. When you run back out he's still arguing, but he watches you run towards him and he smiles rather proudly as he takes the pack from your hands and lights one up.

You feel a little giddy and you cover it up with a smirk, but he pulls you into his side and pats your head affectionately and you can't help the heat that creeps onto your cheeks.

—

“Don't wait up for me.”

He’d said as he left the hotel room. And how exactly was he planning to make good on his promise of fucking you dumb with that instruction? True, you were beyond tired from the long travel day, but even at thirty past midnight you were more than determined to stay up to welcome Javier after his important work meeting.

“What the hell is taking him so long, anyway?” you wonder out loud, hanging upside down off the plush couch set beside the windows in your hotel room. With an outstretched hand you grope for the pills you’d set on the coffee table, and pop another in your mouth.

You know it's not a good idea, he’ll be upset, and angry, and he’ll give you such a hard time for it. You giggle, remembering the “hard time” he gave you last time he found out you were up to no good.

“Bunny?” His voice is slurred just a little, thick and hoarse. You jump upright on the sofa and watch with dizzy eyes as he clicks the hotel room door shut and chucks the keycard onto the counter beside it. He’s craning his neck a little to catch sight of you but from where you're seated you can barely see each other.

The sound of his leather boots clacking against the marble prompts you to slip out of your trance and toss the bottle of pills you’d had on the coffee table haphazardly under it and on the floor. Retrospectively, what you aimed to achieve doing that is unclear, but it was an effort nonetheless. The lit joint stays between your fingers, however, and before you can even divert your attention to it and decide what you’re going to do with it, Javi is leaning in the entryway and raising his brows at you.

You watch him rest his shoulder in the archway for a moment and kick off his boots. “Told ya to get to sleep..” he looks tired, and a little bit irritated, though there's nothing unusual about that. “I thought you wanted to fuck me?” you kick your legs up on the couch and he turns his head in your direction. The look he shoots you makes you feel just a little guilty for bothering him. Your own tone and cheeky remarks surprise you. “What did you say? You were gonna “fill this tight little pussy up again?””

What you say seems to catch his attention. So does the lit joint you’re holding up.

“Have you been drinking?” he stalks towards you and picks up the pills you assumed you'd stealthily chucked under the table. His shoulders drop and he puts a hand on his hip. “No.” you sound a lot more guilty than you’d like.

“What the fuck is this?” he's struggling to remain composed as he gestures to the mess you made– between the sofa and the coffee table. His jaw ticks and he reaches for the joint and yanks it from your grip. He's been drinking, you can smell the whiskey off his leather jacket, it’s strong enough for you to know the meeting likely ended several hours prior. “I told ya last time-”

He turns to put away the bottle and you attempt to stand up and follow him. His hand on your chest stops you however, and pushes you back onto the sofa till your ass is landing on it with a thud. God, he's such a hypocrite. “You're the one walking in drunk”

You watch him shove the pill bottle in his duffle bag, then turn back toward you and take a drag from your joint. “Don't give me that attitude, little girl.” His actions only piss you off further. And here you thought this would be a fun little trip.

“Or what? Looks like you aren’t gonna fuck me anyway.” he shrugs of his jacket with the joint placed deftly between his lips. He’s so hot it’s difficult to maintain your annoyance– especially considering he can tell you're far from sober– with your slurred speech, too loud voice and whining. “Had a few drinks and now you're playing good cop?”

He probably also knows you're trying to get on his nerves. Which is why he ignores your incessant cribbing and plops some paperwork on the coffee table, taking a seat beside you on the couch and grabbing your face between his fingers. The cool metal of the wedding band presses gently against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. You can smell the whiskey and cigarettes off his skin. “High off your fuckin ass.”

He takes another drag and runs a hand over his face, his own back hitting the couch as he slumps against it. You reach for the joint but he smacks your hand away. “No bunny, I think that’s enough.”

Your groaning makes him roll his eyes and you begin to get increasingly frustrated. “I don’t understand what your deal is. Are you always on the clock or something?” you grab his wrist and haul yourself onto his lap. Now straddling him you feel a jolt of arousal soar across your spine.

“Cant keep doin this shit” he tries to wrangle the joint out of your grip with a hand on your wrist, and after struggling with you for a second he frustratedly grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer till your forehead is pressed against his. He sounds tired of reprimanding you. “Let go.”

You know you sound pathetic but you whine and let go. You feel his hard length swell against your now damp panties. Javi takes the joint back and takes a drag, he shifts under you and you bounce on his lap. The feel of his denim against your clit has you biting your lip in an attempt to retain your composure.

“That desperate are you?” Javier laughs and toys with the straps on your dress. “Just fuck me.. Please.” you do sound desperate. Javi rolls his eyes, and his lack of attention directed towards you irks you to no end.

“Shut that whore mouth and maybe I'll think about it.” he smacks your ass and kisses your cheek to make up for it. “be good.” a beat of silence passes, and you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, watch him smoke the joint till his eyes are cloudy and fluttering shut. You think you’re a bit more high than before thanks to the second hand smoke.

You want to kiss him, want to call him that name that's been bubbling in your throat since that night in the woods. You watch Javi take another drag, a final drag, and put out the joint in the ashtray.

You can't help yourself, you close your eyes and lean in, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss and melting into his arms. You think it might do you some good to get back on his good side. “Hi, daddy.” If you were sober you’d be horrified, but you have more than enough liquid courage in you to test the waters. There’s a short but pregnant pause, and Javier's surprised expression makes your heart quicken.

“Hi, bunny.” Javi raises his brows, laughs and cups your cheek. The tensions long left his shoulders. Handsome, he’s so handsome. He’s always been. His eyes are droopier than they usually are. “Daddy, need you..” It comes out as a whisper, a whine and a plea all at the same time. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Jesus christ, bunny. Tryna kill me?” His hand smooths up and down your thigh, his other drawing patterns on your waist and caging you against him. He kisses you lightly, and you giggle against his lips, he does it again, and again, and again, then tilts your jaw up to put his mouth on your neck. You gasp, your hands reach to tangle in his soft, wavy hair, and you pull him impossibly closer. Your tugging makes him groan, and his hand slips under your top to undo the clasp of your bra.

You call out his name as he discards your lingerie, dizzy and dripping for him, unable to get enough of his lips on your skin. Slinging your other leg over his waist you lay yourself sideways in his lap. The heat that radiates off his skin prompts you to curl up even closer to him, and you try your best to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

You get distracted when his hand disappears between your thighs and under your dress. He rubs your wet pussy through the fabric of your panties and you moan into his mouth. You’re getting more impatient by the second, and he's being far too slow and gentle for your liking.

Your hand finds his wrist under your skirt and you reluctantly pry his hand away. Before he can look up you’re climbing onto his lap and grinding your clothed cunt against him in a swift, slow roll of your hips. Surprised, his hands grab your waist and he leans back on the chair. Javier tries to flip you onto your back again but you slot your fingers against his and roll your hips. He lifts his own to meet your core and you shiver.“Impatient little thing. Just wanna take what you want, don’t you?”

“Ohh daddy…’s too hot.” Javi’s voice strains as he curses under his breath and slides your dress off your upper body till the fabric is pooling at your waist. As you rock against him he tugs and bunches it up, controlling your moments. “Soakin my fuckin’ jeans, Bun..” He lifts the fabric up to watch you grind on his bulge.

His words make you groan, and you feel the desire pool even deeper in your belly. With his hands managing your movements you let your own grab onto his shoulders– stabilising yourself. “Goddamn, pretty as a picture.” Thank god you thought to maintain your balance, because you might have just fallen off Javier’s lap when his mouth found your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth and prompting a loud but lazy moan to slip past your lips.

He nips at your skin, kissing his way back up your neck and grinding into your clothed crotch. “Like using daddy like you use your pillows, baby?” The coil in your belly only tightens and your words slur. “‘S better….” You’re drunk and dizzy, your ears burn but you can't stop. It feels so good.

“Mhm, bet it is, baby bunny, them pillows don’t make you cum, do they?” you shake your head “no”, and Javi responds with a chuckle. He pulls you closer and you drop your head against his shoulder. “That’s right, just daddy, ain’t it?”. His lips find your neck again and he mumbles hushed praises against your skin. His voice is soft but strained, and you feel him throb against you.

You move faster against him, chasing that release that's so close, your thighs parting even more across him. You’re practically bouncing in his lap, the rub of his jeans against your clit sending you into a frenzy. Javi’s hands palm your breasts and it feels like your whole body is on fire. “That's it, good girl.”

Your hips stutter and with a final rise of Javier’s hips. You don't even register it happening, something inside you just snaps. He holds you against him, watches the way your eyes roll right to the back of your head as you reach your high. You can hear him groan but your ears are mostly ringing, pussy fluttering around nothing. You’re sure your panties are soaked at this point. The moan that erupts from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You feel the heat seep onto his jeans, and you twitch a final few times from the aftershocks as you move yourself against him, now slightly slower. He twists your nipple between his fingers, then slaps your ass so hard you go reeling forward into his chest. Surely, when your hips lift off his, a dark, wet spot has formed on his grey denim. The both of you look down at his lap, at the lewd string of slick that connects your panty covered core to his jeans.

“Already, bunny?!” He’s half surprised, half proud. A sort of excited smirk tugs at his lips and snaps the band of your panties against your ass. In reaction you bury your face further in his neck, leaving desperate, sloppy, open mouth kisses there. “Still all achy, aren’t ya?”

Javier groans and slides his fingers between your thighs, his other hand keeping a vice grip on your hip. “So fuckin wet, got these panties all messy huh?” You're already throbbing again, and your nipples pebble impossibly harder thanks to his touch. It doesn't help that you feel all conscious and small– your bare chest pressing against Javi’s still clothed body.

You mewl and tug at his shirt and he chuckles, a smug smile plastered on his face. “Behave..” you pout and groan impatiently. “Silly thing.” He grabs your hands and plants them on his chest, his own moving to slide your dress over your head and discard it on the ground beside you.

You toy with the buttons on his shirt yet again and he gives you a warning look in response, ending your misery and undoing them himself. You can’t help but continue to grind against him with little rolls of your hips, your soaked panties sticking to your cunt and making the friction even more pleasing. Javi smacks your ass in warning. “Patience, little slut.”

You can't even register what's happening, he's throwing you onto the bed and yanking your panties down your legs. You push yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at Javi climbing on top of you.

Your little show doesn’t last long, because in a second he's flipping you onto your stomach and smacking your ass till you're whimpering for him. Prompting you on all fours he grabs your hips in his massive hands, getting behind you on his knees.

His thumb swipes the cut of your pussy, and he groans as he feels and spreads your wetness along your cunt. “Always so fuckin wet, dumb little thing.” his index and middle dip into your warm, waiting hole, and the stretch of his thick fingers have your knees giving out under you.

Javier laughs, but snakes a hand around your middle to hold you up for him. You feel his cock press up against your ass– hot and needy. You wiggle your hips and push back against him, but that only earns you a spank and a mumbled “brat”.

Agonisingly slow for your liking he runs his cock up the length of your pussy, smearing the precum at the head and further spreading your wetness. “Please…” he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in in a single, deep thrust.

You pity the people in the neighbouring rooms upon hearing the downright pornographic moan that leaves your mouth. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open brings that heaviness to your hips, a buzzing that spreads all across your body and stings you where Javi’s got his hands.

Those hands smooth along your back travel up to your head to catch a hold on your hair. A strong sense of dizziness overcomes you thanks to his fingertips grazing your scalp, and that feeling only intensifies tenfold when he tugs at your hair and forces your gaze directly ahead of you. He can tell you’ve already lost yourself, can sense the way you've gone dumb with the simple gesture, how you like being used like a little doll.

“Look at that, gone dumb already?” each thrust of his hits deeper thanks to the way he's tugging you towards him. His words make you shiver and gush around his cock. “Gonna fuck this tight little pussy like ya need.”

His hand that's resting on your hip lands a spank to your ass and you yelp. “Fuck bunny, bet it feels nice to have somthing filling this pretty little snatch again huh?” you nod, then mewl at the drag of his cock against your wet walls.

“This pussy’s fuckin made for me.” he groans as he thrusts inside you–voice strained and hoarse. “Gonna mould ya into my perfect little cockslut.Teach ya how to really take it.” you nod your head, relishing in the pull and tug on your scalp thanks to his relentless grip on your hair. “Gonna fill you up till you're dripping with my cum.”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, you want that?” you feel him lean down and kiss along your spine. When he speaks you feel his lips murmur against your skin. “Want daddy to teach ya how to be his perfect little sex bunny?”

“That's right, bet ya do– insatiable little thing, aren't ya?” he lets go of your hair and his hand drifts to your neck. Your skin is on fire.

“Daddy”

“I know baby Bun.” He guides you up with a hand around your neck, your face turning to bury in the crook of his neck. Your eyes barely open to watch his face contort in pleasure. The expanse of his chest welcomes you, and you rest your head back against his shoulder, your nose brushing the nape of his neck. His thrusts don't cease and the new angle has you groaning into his skin.

He notices your incessant lip biting, the way you reach to slot your lips against his. He obliges, sliding his tongue into your mouth, your own lips being forced to part from his when he thrusts deep inside you and you gasp.

“Need something to keep that mouth busy, dontcha’ lil darlin’?” His index and middle finger swipe against your bottom lip. Pushing his digits past your lips he watches as you gently suck, groaning when you run your tongue against them. “That’s it. Let daddy take control.”

Your own arms reach behind you to wind around his neck, back arching thanks to the pleasure. You moan around his digits, jaw going slack when you feel his fingers on your clit. Your pussy bares down on his cock as he rubs you in soft circles. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and angles your face to watch his other hand move between your thighs.

The sight is so erotic you think it might just make you cum. “Yeah.. like that don’t you? Dirty girl.” His breath is warm against your skin. All his words are muffled against your hairline. “Like seeing what daddy does to you?”

He kisses your cheek and his other hand shifts a pillow below your hips to push you back onto. He chuckles when you flop onto the bed with a yelp. When you land back on the bed and he thrusts inside you the new angle makes you squirm, you don’t think you could even describe the feeling of being so full. He pushes you down with both hands on your hips and fucks you into the matress.

You try to lift your head to look behind you but his hands travel to grab a hold of your hair. “Gonna let me use ya?” an incoherent ‘yes’ leaves your mouth in the form of a scream. “Hmm baby Bun?” you reply yet again, but your capacity to respond is greatly diminished as his cock brushes that sweet spot inside you.

Over and over, you feel your pussy flutter around him and you can’t help it when your mouth hangs open. “Who's daddy's little sex doll?” frantically nodding, you refuse to rely on your ability to reply coherently with words. Daddy doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t need you to respond. “You are, aren't you? my little sex bunny.”

His palm comes down on your ass and you reel forward, only for him to tug you back with his hold on your hair. “Such a pretty little doll for daddy.” He tugs you into him with every thrust and you whimper, hands gripping the sheets and legs giving out till you're only held up by the pillow. “My girl.”

He's so deep inside you you’re not even sure you can understand the new sensations. It's like he can read your mind. “Feel daddy, baby bunny?” he tugs on your hair once again, his other hand reaching down to plant firmly on your lower belly. “Yeah? Feel daddy in here?”

He doesn't wait for you to nod, just uses his grip on your hair to do it for you. It's not like you could really think straight before, but now that Javi was tossing you around like an inanimate object, moulding you for himself, using you how he wanted, moving for you.

His hand drops from your tummy to brace itself beside your head. In a second, he's lowering himself completely onto you, your entire body pressed against the pillows and fluffy duvet, and his entire front pressed to your back. With every thrust inside you you feel every single detail of his body as it rests against yours.

The way he's resting on his forearms has him caging you against the bed, in a cocoon of your own. Your body is confined between his arms, your own forearms holding you up under him. You feel so small under him, his movements hitting you with extreme intensity. You fist the sheets in your fingers and groan.

“Who makes this tight, slutty little pussy cum?” his lips brush against your cheek with every word that escapes them. Everything feels so warm, and vulnerable. You’re just a doll for his pleasure. You can barely recognise your own voice anymore– so whiny and desperate.

“You do.”

“And who am I?” he squishes your face between his fingers. “Daddy!” you surge forward a little with the force of his thrust. You attempt to press your forehead against his but he’s determined on having a full view of your face as you slowly come apart on his cock. “Who makes you feel so goddamn good you can’t even think straight?”

Javier takes delight in your incoherent, trembling answers. “Daddy does”. He eggs you on, seemingly unable to get enough of the way you scramble to respond to him while being unable to control your sounds of pleasure. “Whose cock got ya going all dumb?”

“Daddy’s” he coos and laughs against your skin, his death grip on your cheeks not ceasing. “That’s fuckin right, aint it.” He takes your chin in his hand and turns your face away from his, then buries his face in your neck and sucks at your skin. Your arms give out under you and you’re now fully pressed against the bed. You hear it creak indecently with every one of your movements.

“Such a good bunny.” Javier’s cheek is flush with yours, and you’re sure he can feel just how hot they are against his cool skin. A swarm of butterflies flutters in your tummy and you whine, so incredibly close to the release you’ve been desperate for all evening.

“Need daddy to make you cum?” both of his arms wind around your body, wedging themselves between yourself and the mattress. “Yes please, please daddy, really wanna.” you press your forehead against the pillow but he tilts it up.

“Oh baby bunny..” you feel him throb inside you and his thrusts become sloppier. You can tell he’s nearing his end. “Good fucking girl..” the heat radiating off his body has sweat dripping down your back. You’re so close to cumming you push your hips back against him– whatever little you can, still mostly smothered by his towering frame. “Sound so sweet askin daddy like that. Usin’ your manners.”

“Please daddy, make me cum..” with a sharp, deep thrust his cock nudges that spot inside you just right. The coil in your belly snaps and your whole body goes limp. “Wanna see that pretty little face.” Javi keeps your face tilted towards his so he can capture your lips in a messy kiss as you come undone around his cock– unable to reciprocate with your eyes rolling back into your head and your mouth parting in a strained, languid moan. “That's it, look at daddy’s good girl.”

Seeing your face seems to set his own release off, and you feel Javi rut into your fluttering, wet heat in a few final, deep thrusts before his cock is pulsing against your walls and painting them in hot ropes of his spend. You vaguely hear him groan, and he nips your bottom lip.

Javier takes a moment to catch his breath, slumping on top of you briefly before rolling onto his side. His touch, and his weight over your body is already something you miss, and you reach for him– arm reaching out and hand groping for purchase on his skin. He indulges you and pulls you on top of him, lets you catch your own breath with your chest pressed against his. You feel his spend mess your inner thighs. You murmur the word “pillow” and hope he gets the message to shift it before getting it dirty. Thankfully he does.

By the time he’s pulling said pillow from under your hips and rolling you onto your side you’re half asleep. He collapses beside you and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head against him. He's like a wall between you and the rest of the room.

With your eyes closed and mind stuck between sleep and wakefulness you snuggle into him, giving yourself to dreamland. You hear him whisper before you lose all consciousness

“Good night, baby bunny.”

—

You don't know how long it's been since you fell asleep. Javier’s arms, that have been caging you against him, move delicately to loosen around your frame. With fluttering eyelids you gain an ounce of consciousness to register the movement of your leg over Javi’s waist.

It's all warm and fuzzy, and you murmur his name as a question before nuzzling into his neck. You can't tell what's happening, just hear him hush your whines when you feel his cock slide against your dripping seam. You wiggle your hips, already desperate for him. His tip bumps your clit and you shiver.

You’re tired, you’re sleepy, hell you’re barely conscious. You drift between sleep and wakefulness, your skin setting ablaze as he lines himself up with your warm centre and slowly buries himself to the hilt.

His lips slot against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth. You struggled to kiss him back as his cock slides in and out of your aching pussy. He squeezes your breast in his palm and you moan into his mouth. “S’okay, just keep makin’ them pretty sounds for me..” You can't help but sleepily moan and mewl. “all those pretty sounds for daddy? Aren't they?”

The both of you know he’s right. Javier’s lips come back to meet yours and he swallows your whimpers, you feel yourself getting closer and your pussy clenches down on his cock. His body's heat isn’t helping. The sheets get too warm and you feebly try and kick them off.

Javi pulls them off you and the cool air from the AC hits your bar upper body. Sighing, you return your arms around his neck and push your hips towards his. “I know, baby Bun..” he holds you against him. “I know..” Your body hasn’t cooled down and you feel your chest burn with the heat. Your nipples pebble under the cool air and you bring his hand to your chest to ease the tension. The sensations make you impossibly more desperate and you search for his lips once again.

He obliges and brings his face down to yours, his thrusts slow but deep and firm. Your breath becomes quicker and you feel the tension about to snap. Your lips go slack against his and he licks into your mouth as you moan softly and your walls pulse around his cock. You can barely hear him groan and you’re halfway back asleep already.

He thrusts inside your hot, throbbing heat a few more times before stilling inside you and filling you up. The feeling of his cock pulsing against your walls makes you shiver. He pulls out and you vaguely gauge the mess between your legs– far worse than before. You swing your leg higher over his waist and he pulls you closer, you’re almost immediately back asleep. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck and dozes off.

—

The sun doesn't stand a chance disturbing you and peeking through the thick, blackout curtains– you’re awoken by the comforting sound of the kettle boiling over in its stead. Wakefulness evades you, but your eyes flutter open to catch Javier’s silhouette standing at the counter beside the tv, taking the kettle off its stand and making himself some tea. A soft rustling fills the room as you turn in the fluffy, plush sheets, only now realising you’re clothed in a fresh pair of panties and Javier’s old Lakers’ shirt– the one he wears around the house.

You feel fresh, and you smell great– like the somebody bobbing his teabag in his cup had taken the opportunity to give you a nice sponge bath while you were still sleeping. You call that someone’s name– voice still thick with sleep. When you actually try to sit up you’re suddenly aware of how sore the previous night's escapades have actually left you.

Javi turns in your direction, and his bedhead and overall morning grogginess doesn't go over your head. You envy your mother– she wakes up to this every single morning and still manages to be a bitch. What you wouldn’t give…

“Got a few more hours till we leave.” He sits down in the armchair next to the windows and places his cup on the table. You’re surprised by how nonchalant he always seems to be about this whole situation. His wedding band catches the light of the sun and twinkles. You feel a pit in your stomach.

He doesn’t pay you any mind as you roll out of bed, busy with his files from his meeting from the previous day. It takes you a minute to get to him, and you push his thighs apart and sit on the ground between his legs. You’re not exactly sure what you’re doing there, but you assume it’ll help you wake up. You want to be next to him, that's all you know.

You rest your cheek on his thigh as he reads, and you can't help that your mind wanders to the events of the previous night. A tingle runs down your spine, and your eyes fall to his lap. You’ve never given anyone head before, and suddenly the thought of Javier grabbing your face and fucking into your mouth with his thick cock seems more appealing than ever.

You shift on the ground beneath him, and nuzzle his thigh. His hand comes down to stroke your head and your eyes flutter shut. He’s still reading when you begin to trace patterns on his thigh with your fingertips.

“Want something, bunny?” Peering over the files he glances down at you, still stroking your head gently. You don’t reply, not even sure what or how you can ask for what you want him to teach you. Instead you shift on your knees and bend down to kiss along his stomach.

“Asked ya something, baby..” he doesn’t stop you so you continue, toying with the waistband of his shorts between your fingers. “Gonna speak up before we gotta go home?” The mention of ‘home’ makes you cringe. Seemingly realising what exactly you’re asking for as you trail kisses along his inner thighs, Javi grabs a hold of your face and pulls you up till your resting your chin back against his stomach. “C’mon now, get up. Gotta save that energy– your momma’s got that barbeque tonight we gotta go to. Barely slept five hours.” You plant your face in his stomach and groan. You’re not exactly elated to go back home, and you know he knows that.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

Way to kill the mood.

“It ain’t that bad, ya know.” he sighs quite heavily, and you hear him flip another page in the document he's holding. “I know you wanna go make a life far away, and your mother, she’s not the nicest to ya..” He puts down the papers as he speaks, and his hand twists around your neck. You know what he’s getting at– what he was trying to get at last night.

The comment irks you, and you raise your head from his stomach and sit higher on your knees. “I am not having this conversation with you.” The hand that’s around your neck pulls you up till you're on your knees completely, and you place both hands on his thighs to keep your balance. “Can’t keep runnin’ away from every problem you have.” He tilts your head up as he speaks with a hold on your hair.

“For the record you don't know anything about me or my mother.” You shake off his hold and catch his wrist in your grasp, firmly planted on his thigh. “I know you think you’ve got us all pinned down, but lest you need reminding– you’ve been in our lives all of what? Twelve months?” He doesn’t try to remove his hand from your grip, and you feel a little bad about how you’re lashing out at him.

“Bun..” Especially when he talks to you this way, all patient and sweet. “Can’t keep doin’ this..” his other hand reaches for your face but you grab it too. “Not now at least.” you know what’s coming next. “And ya can’t keep gettin so close to trouble. Can't keep runnin that mouth on everyone. Actin’ out.”

The comment makes you roll your eyes, makes them burn unpleasantly. It doesn’t register whether he's right or not, you don't care. You're not interested. “I get it– you’re a big hot shot detective and all, and you really like all this perfect picket fence family stuff. But I don’t need you to like be my dad or whatever it is you were hoping to be.” You pause and look between the both of you. “If that wasn’t abundantly clear already…”

Even you flinch at the comment, but Javier doesn’t budge. His jaw ticks and your heart aches in regret. “That's not what I meant, Bun.” His voice is calm, and gentle, and it makes your eyes sting even more. He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “And it’s gonna come all crashin down and then what? Bein so reckless?”

“You're not fixing anything, okay?” Your grip on his wrists tightens a little, and you harshly let go. “Will you just stop? Just lay off. I know what I'm doing.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, at how juvenile and childish you’re being despite his kindness. You don't want to deal with whatever he’s trying to bring up. “Just stay out of it.”

“I know ya are..” you get off your knees, hands still planted on your thighs in an attempt to hoist yourself up to your feet. You try to stand but he pulls you into his lap and you fall forward into his chest with a yelp. His arms tighten around you and you rest your head on his shoulder with your face turned away from him. He rubs your back gently and seems to decide to put a pin in the conversation. “Bunny baby.” He can probably feel your heart thud against him.

One of his hands sneaks up your, or rather his, shirt, and he squeezes the flesh of your thigh. “Done gettin all upset with me?” turning his head he places a few kisses against your neck– feather light, and chuckles when you whine and turn your own head to catch his lips with yours. “This what you wanted?”

“Stubborn brat.” with both hands on your waist he pulls you down against him, your panty clad core meeting his hardness and sending a shiver down your spine. His words make you shiver and you grind down against him. His hand sneaks up and his fingers wrap around your throat– forcing your watery eyes to his. “Was gonna teach ya how to suck some cock, but you’re too much of a brat huh?”

As he speaks, he reaches between the two of you, freeing his throbbing cock from his shorts and teasing your slit with his tip. Your hips rise and squirm and the grip he has on your throat makes you dizzy. “Need to get fucked silly again? Need me to shut ya up?”

You can’t respond, just continue to mewl and chase the pleasure of his cock rubbing up against your dripping folds. He teases your tight hole– his head just barely pushing in only to retreat to your clit and leave you clenching around nothing. “Don't worry bunny, gonna teach ya how to shut that mouth right up.”

Your mouth waters at the thought. You bite your lip. You find a steady and sturdy grip on his shoulders and whisper a plea for him to “please daddy– let me” he cuts you off with a spank and sinks the head of his cock in your warm, wet, cunt. “Not today, not when ya givin’ me that attitude”

“Please daddy-” he cuts you off with another spank, gripping your hips and letting you sink fully onto his cock. “Not another word from that mouth.” his fingers squish your face and he brings you to meet his eyes. “Gonna take what I give ya.”

He thrusts up into your waiting cunt, holds you in place on his lap and uses you like a doll. “Lucky to be gettin’ my cock after bein’ such a fuckin’ brat” you mewl at the harshness of his words but its all to difficult to concentrate on when you can feel the delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open. No time to adjust before his hips are meeting yours with impressive speed.

The obscene squelching of your wetness and the sound of slapping skin fills the room and sends your eyes rolling back into your head. “Never fuckin listen, do ya?”You call out his name and he grunts, his hand releasing its grip on your face to palm your tit through your t-shirt. His thumb brushes your hard nipple and you can’t help but moan. “Think ya got everything figured out.”

“Like being a bad girl?” You hate how close you already are, the drag of his cock against your quivering walls has you out of breath despite the fact that you’re not doing any of the work here. “Can feel how bad you wanna cum.” Javi feels you tighten around him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your thighs and bringing your face down to his for a kiss.

He lets you lick into his mouth in a silent apology for your tone earlier, doesn’t make you chase his lips and offers them to you with grace. His steady thrusting makes it difficult for you to keep your lips on his but he doesn’t tease you– just continues to fuck into your wet heat till you breath hitches and your reeling forward onto his chest.

Your hips stutter and your pussy flutters around his cock. Javi groans a string of low curses at the feeling of your cunt milking him. You go dumb and dizzy for a few seconds, your whole body on fire as you ride out your high– prolonged by the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you. A ragged moan escapes your lips as you feel him paint your insides with his hot spend, the aftershocks seizing your body as the two of you simultaneously come down from your high.

Your chests rise and fall against one another, and Javi moves your legs across his lap so your thighs can catch some respite from the strain of bouncing on his cock. You can’t help but wince when you feel his spend drip onto your thighs. He reaches between your legs and swipes the cut of your pussy, then brings his fingers to your lips and you open them– sucking on his digits gently. Your eyes flutter closed and he pulls his digits from your mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you rest your head back against his shoulder.

There's a few more beats of silence. There's a tension, but not enough for you to peel yourself away from his hold. In fact he's the one to shift under you, you take his place on the armchair and watch as he makes his way towards the bathroom. You glance towards the coffee table and spot the contents of the file. The title reads “Employment Contract: Attache for The United States Federal Drug Enforcement Agency in Colombia.”

Javier stops in front of the door, he peels his shirt off, and doesn’t turn your way as he speaks.

“Never mean ya’ any harm, baby Bun.. Just lookin’ out for ya’.”

—

Lost inside

Adorable illusion and I cannot hide

I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside

We coulda made it cruising, yeah

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Yeah, riding high on love's true bluish light

Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed!! Remember, again very morally dubious and borderline unhealthy relationship here. We are dealing with it in the realm of fiction! Thank you to everyone who comments and engages with my work you keep me writing!! Please let me know what you think!! 💗

303 notes · View notes

valkyriexo · 7 months ago

Note

idk why but i just wanted to show you this

Behave | Yang Jeongin

ᑉ³pairing; Jeongin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Smut MDNI

ᑉ³warnings; Spanking, dirty talk, swearing, use of 'slut', 'Brat', 'Good girl' , Degrading, P in V, Rough sex , teasing, Masterbation (F) , oral (m. receiving) hair pulling, begging, edging, Brat and brat tamer dynamic, Mean dom Jeongin. Smut. SMUTTT minors do NOT interact

ᑉ³Authors Note; NAHH BECAUSE THE WAY THAT I WENT FERAL THE SECOND I SAW THIS. I HAD LIKE 100 DIFFERENT SENARIOS RACING IN MY HEAD. Also, i wrote the whole thing then tumblr deleted it, so I had to rewrite it. Sorry it took so long.

Jeongin, who one day receives an invitation to a gala hosted by Alexander McQueen. The event was a glamorous affair, with people dressed to the nines, mingling and chatting animatedly.

You, who didn't want to go, but knowing how significant it was for him, of course you were going to be there to support him.

You had excused yourself a few minutes ago to go to the bathroom and reapply your lipstick.

Jeongin looked incredibly handsome tonight, practically radiating allure. His perfectly tailored pinstripe suit jacket highlighted his broad shoulders, while his crisp white dress shirt clung to his lean, athletic frame, showcasing every defined muscle.

Muscles you wanted to kiss, and bite on while he fucked you.

You always had a way of driving him wild, but tonight, it seemed, you were in a particularly mischievous mood.

You finally returned, your lips now a perfect shade of red, and immediately caught Jeongin's eye. He smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement, as you approached. His hair was styled to perfection, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, adding a hint of casual elegance to his polished look, and looked like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of pride and excitement knowing that this stunning man was yours.

"All freshened up?" he said smiling at you.

You nodded, giving him a little twirl to show off your look. "Had to make sure I look my best for my handsome boyfriend."

Jeongin's gaze traveled over you, taking in every detail. The long, elegant dress you wore clung to your curves in all the right places, the deep emerald fabric shimmering under the ballroom lights. The dress had two daring slits up the sides, revealing tantalizing glimpses of your legs as you moved. The neckline was sophisticated yet alluring, framing your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate necklace you wore. You looked absolutely stunning, and Jeongin's admiration was evident in his eyes.

"You look incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you a little closer. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You leaned in, a playful smile on your lips, and pressed a soft, innocent kiss to his lips. "And you look incredibly handsome," you whispered, your breath warm against his.

You take this opportunity to slip your underwear into his coat.

By accident, of course.

Jeongin felt the soft material and looked down. Instantly, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he glanced around anxiously, hoping no one had noticed

"What is this?" Jeongin murmured, feeling the soft material between his fingers.

You glanced up at him with exaggerated innocence in your eyes. "I don't know, Jeongin," you replied with faux sweetness. A smirk curled at the corners of your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Why don't you find out?" you suggested, your tone intentionally bratty, relishing in teasing him

His hand tightened on your waist, and he stole another quick kiss before pulling back, a slightly dazed expression on his face. "You're gonna kill me, y/n," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You gave him a coy look. All you wanted was a little bit of attention from him instead of having it all focused on the event.

But instead, he just gave you a playful scolding and then smoothly excused himself to mingle with someone else.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed inwardly, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement. It seemed like Jeongin was determined to play by the rules tonight, even if it meant ignoring your playful antics.

Oh, well.

There were plenty of other ways to have fun and grab attention tonight.

With a sly smile, you sauntered onto the dance floor, your eyes scanning the room until they locked onto Jeongin. He was engaged in conversation with a group of people, his attention fully absorbed by the discussion. As the lively music filled the air, you spotted someone who seemed equally eager to let loose and have a good time, and you didn't hesitate to join them, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the music.

As you danced with the stranger, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jeongin, who seemed increasingly agitated by your behavior. His brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched as he watched you, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a simmering frustration.

With each flirtatious move you made, Jeongin's anger seemed to grow, his grip tightening on his drink as he struggled to maintain his composure. Finally, unable to contain his emotions any longer, he abruptly excused himself from the group he was talking to and strode purposefully towards you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Jeongin's voice cut through the music, his tone a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What? I'm just dancing," you replied innocently, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Y/N, you're causing a scene. This is an important event. Behave," he urged, his voice firm.

"Make me," you challenged, intensifying your movements with a mischievous grin.

Jeongin's expression darkened, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "If you don't behave, I'll have to punish you," he whispered, his tone laced with warning.

"Promise?" you teased, enjoying the thrill of pushing his buttons.

He shot you a stern look, his gaze piercing. "Behave, Y/N," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You just smiled and continued dancing, making sure to rub your ass against him a little extra.

You had no intention of behaving. Not when the prospect of a punishment was so tempting.

You suddenly felt Jeongin's presence disappear, glancing around to see him heading in the direction of the bathroom. Confused and a bit concerned, you were left standing alone on the dance floor, surrounded by swirling couples and soft music.

Deciding to leave the dance floor, you stepped to the side, your mind racing. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd inadvertently made him mad. As you reached a quieter corner, you pulled out your phone, hoping for some clue to his sudden departure. Your screen lit up with a notification— a message from Jeongin.

'you still want to misbehave?'

You opened it quickly and saw a photo of him in the bathroom mirror, holding a condom in his mouth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and a wave of heat hit your core. You looked around the ballroom, making sure no one was looking, as your mind was raced with possibilities. The next thing you knew, you were pushing open the door to the bathroom.

The bathroom was big, with stalls and a large, ornate mirror above the sink. You locked the door behind you, your heart pounding with anticipation.

It was empty except for Jeongin, who was leaning against the sink.

He was standing there, his pants already unbuttoned and unzipped. He had a condom in his hand and a stern look on his face.

"So you decide to be a fucking brat. The one day I need you to behave," he said, walking towards you, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

You knew what was coming, and while your heart raced with fear, you couldn't help but feel a hint of excitement at the thought of being punished by him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again," you said, backing up into the sink.

"I don't think you are," he said, walking towards you. He pulled you and pushed your hips into the sink, his hands firmly grasping your waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath your dress, pulling it to the side, revealing your round, peachy ass. You let out a small gasp, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he exposed you for his punishment.

"You just wanted attention, didn't you" Jeongin growled, his voice low and menacing. "I've had enough of your games. It's time for you to learn your lesson."

His hand came down swiftly, landing with a loud smack against your bare skin. You yelped in surprise.

"I j-just wanted to-" You began.

“Did I say you could speak?” He said in a stern tone, earning you another hard smack. You nodded feverishly. He continued, each strike harder than the last, each one leaving a fiery imprint on your delicate flesh. Your eyes welling up with tears as the sting of his punishment echoed through the room.

As Jeongin's punishment came to an end, he pushed you to your knees, forcing you to look up at him with wide, frightened eyes. His pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard, throbbing cock that stood at attention, eager for your mouth.

"Is this what you wanted, slut? To be on your knees for me?" You nodded frantically at him, your eyes full of lust and longing. You could feel the heat rising between your thighs as you wrapped your lips around his shaft. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you took him deeper into your throat, swallowing his length with each stroke.

His moans were quietly as he was determined to not let you know how good you made him feel, But you could feel his grip on your hair tighten as he thrust deeper into your mouth. You could feel the saliva dripping down your chin. He began to fuck your mouth roughly, his cock sliding in and out of your throat with each thrust. You choked around his cock, tears pricking your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat continuously.

"Speak now brat..... Come on. I can't hear you." He thrusted harder and harder into you. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, his cum spurting into your throat. You swallowed, wanting to avoid any more punishments.

He pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with lust. He turned you around, pressing you against the cold, porcelain sink once again. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your nipples hardening at the thought of his cock inside you.

"Beg for my cock." He stated. You were caught off guard by his request, and for a moment you were silent. "You want it? Beg for it," he commanded once again

"Please, Jeongin," you whimpered, your voice quiet.

"I'm sorry what was that? I cant hear you", He said taking a step closer.

"Please, fuck me, I need your cock inside me." You cry out.

"You're such a dirty little slut," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I can't believe you're begging for my cock."

"Please," you moaned again "I need you to fuck me, please, fuck me hard."

Jeongin reached for the condom he had left on the sink and slid it onto his throbbing member. He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he prepared to take you.You let out a soft sigh, your eyes closed as you felt his cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"You're so wet, you dirty little slut," he murmured, his cock sliding around your entrance. "You're desperate for my cock, aren't you?"

You moaned and bit your lip.

"Tell me how much you want my cock," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck me.... please. I need you," you say, whining.

Without warning, Jeongin thrust into you, filling you completely with his thick, hard length. You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as he began to pump into you with long, powerful strokes.

Your cries of pleasure grew louder with each thrust, your body trembling with desire as he claimed you as his own. Jeongin's hands roamed your body, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you with wild abandon.

"That's it, you little whore," he growled, his hips thrusting forward. "Take my cock." The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by your moans of pleasure and his growls of satisfaction.

"Yes, J-Jeongin," you moaned, you body trembling with pleasure. "Fuck me harder, please, fuck me harder."

"Oh? Are you telling me what to do?" You nodded your head 'no' frantically not wanting him to stop.

Jeongin reached around, his fingers finding you sensitive clit. He began to circle it, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you over the edge. You cried out, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Your eyes were starting to become glossy. You began to clench around his cock. You could barely form a coherent response, only able to focus on the cock that was fucking you so well and dumb and the obscene sounds of you wetness coating his length. Jeongin continued to fuck you, his pace quickening as he felt his own release approaching. He thrust into you one final time, his cock twitching as he filled the condom with his hot, sticky cum.

Just as you were a bout to reach your climax, your pussy clenching around his cock, Jeongin pulled out of you. you moaned loudly, your hips bucking against the air.

"No... No... No. please," you whined, your body trembling with need.

"No.. No. I only let good girls cum on my cock." You whimpered, your eyes pleading with him to continue.

You felt a surge of desperation, your heart pounding in your chest. "I promise, I'm a good girl," you insisted, your voice softening as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. The atmosphere between you grew thick with tension, the air crackling with a mix of challenge and desire.

Jeongin's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips as he studied your expression. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. "And what makes you think you've been a good girl?"

Your breath hitched as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate path along your skin. "I promise," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I'll be good. Just, please..."

Jeongin's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You want to cum?"

You nodded frantically hoping he would fuck you again.

"Play with yourself then." He said taking a step back from you. He discarded the used condom in the nearby trash can and pulled up his pants.

You were caught off guard by Jeongin's request and hesitated for a moment. He had never denied your orgasm before. But the desire in your eyes and the heat between your legs was too much to resist.

"Dont make me repeat myself." He said. You began to touch herself, her fingers exploring your pussy as Jeongin watched intently.

"That's it, baby," Jeongin murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Play with your pussy for me. Make yourself cum."

You increased the pressure, your fingers sliding along your clit and into your wetness. You stuck two fingers into yourself, moaning from the sensation. Your fingers moved faster, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pleasure growing more intense with each passing moment. Jeongin, seeing you on the brink of climax, whispered dirty words into her ear, pushing her closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum hard on your fingers. I want to see you cum."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tensing as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final thrust of your fingers, you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, brat," he whispered, his tone both mocking and affectionate.

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left standing there, heart racing and mind whirling with a flood of emotions.

With trembling hands, you cleaned yourself up and smoothed out the fabric of your dress, adjusting it to sit just right. A quick glance in the mirror reassured you that your makeup hadn't smudged, but your cheeks were flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

Gathering your composure, you made your way to the door, determined to follow Jeongin.

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manicpixiefelix · 11 months ago

Text

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

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----

Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start imagine #farleigh imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x farleigh start #oliver quick smut #farleigh start smut #farleigh smut #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh x reader x oliver #manic writer

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I love your writing and art it's so cute! I was wondering if I could ask a request or something whit Raihan whit a reader that somehow dragon types that love them, they would just say a word and the dragon type is just "🥰☺️💕" and when they start to talk softly or baby talk to the dragon type they amidiately flop to the ground and expose they're belly demanding tummy pets, I think mostly because the stomach of a dragon is always they're weaker point compered to the rest and the fact that they immediately just roll over exposing it to the reader even if they just met is kinda 🤯. Bonus if they have a legendary dragon type and they are just a cuddle bug whit Reader. If you don't want you can skip it! Alsow Ingles is my third language so I'm sorry if the grammar is bad😭

Ps. Remember to take breaks and to not overwork yourself dear! And your doing amazing remember that!💕

Your grammar is good, don't worry!

Also I've been leveling up Zekrom a lot so I'm going to choose them as the legendary dragon <3

........

Raihan has a team of dragons, you have a team of dragons..

One would think it'll make for an interesting rivalry, especially as you've entered the Galar Championship and crushed his team with them instantly.

But it's after the fact that he finds out there's a certain "charm" to you--which makes any and all dragon types quite cuddly and submissive. No matter if they're wild or if you just caught them.

Turns out they're not just weak to ice and fairy types.

For example, you showed off the Zekrom you found in the dynamax lair, and at first Raihan is shook because you managed to tame the literal dragon of ideals who annihilated entire kingdoms...

.....and made it roll over onto its back the moment you started talking.

"Hi, Zekrom! You did great with that Fusion Bolt attack. Who's a good dragon, hm? Who's a good dragon?" You're pretty much babytalking this great beast, rubbing its belly...and it's just taking it, thumping its tail while it's also glowing electric blue from pure happiness.

Duraludon, who's standing beside Raihan, decides it wants to be coddled too and just...hobbles over to you, whining and looking for attention.

Of course you happily oblige.

"Awh don't think I forgot about you, superstar! Look at you, making Raihan proud. Well I'm proud of you, too." You coo, laughing a little as it stiffly lays on its back, demanding belly rubs.

Meanwhile the dragon tamer doesn't know what to think. He's definitely given his ace more than enough affection and feels a little insulted that it's acting otherwise.

But he can't deny that seeing you both interacting like this is cute..

He has to snap a picture to savor this moment, of course.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon swsh x reader #pokemon sword x reader #pokemon shield x reader #pokemon raihan #pokemon raihan x reader #raihan x reader #zekrom #duraludon #headcanons #fluff

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katerinaaqu · 2 months ago

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Did Odysseus have horses or not? (An Iliad and Odyssey Analysis)

This little thing came from a post made by @wolfythewitch and my response in regards to some Cephallenian horses that can still be found to Kephallonia to this day: see here So here is a more extensive analysis on the question of horses and Ithaca or the kingdom of the Cephallenians in general

So as we know from antiquity, horses are known to be a sign of nobility, proof of status and of course a valuable animal for work such as farming or war. Horses play a very important role in the homeric poems with of course the most infamous example of all the Trojan Horse that was the symbol of Troy and became its destruction. Many heroes have had the pseudonym "tamer of horses" including Diomedes and Hector.

It seems also that horses are linked most to some of the richest and most powerful kingdoms are shown to have beautiful or good horses. For example except for Troy that as also linked to god Poseidon and thus to the sumbol of Horse, we also see Argos be famous for the horses (and king Diomedes earning his name from it) or even Sparta (Menelaus providing horses to Telemachus which are praised) and Pylos when Nestor also provides Telemachus and Peisistratus with horses.

But what about Ithaca?

As mentioned above and as others mentioned before me, it seems that Ithaca, the tiny rugged place Odysseus speaks about does not seem to have terrains that are capable of hosting horses like wide plains or wide and smooth roads where horses can trot freely or graze. The existence of animals for work as well seems to be touched in post-homeric sources such as Hyginus Fabulae where we see the infamous story of Odysseus pretending madness. He ties to his plow a donkey and a cow instead. Both of the animals are more frequent for plowing fields or carrying loads especially donkeys and mules that are still famous in Greece and greek islands and they are known for being capable of marching across the wild terrains and uphill paths.

Ironically, or not so much, Ithaca seems to have a lack of horses according to Telemachus himself for when Menelaus offers him parting gifts, including horses, Telemachus replies to him thus:

However the horses I shall not take with me to Ithaca but I shall leave them to you, with your permission (lit: to your glory): for you are a king of wide fields, rich in clove and galingale and plenty of wheat that is dicocum and white. However in Ithaca there are neither wide roads nor grassy meadows; place that is fit for goats to walk and graze on rather than horses. For no island that leans in the salt (here: sea) is fit for riding and grazing horses: Ithaca least of all.

(Translation by me)

So here Telemachus seems to imply that not only most of silands have unfriendly terrain for horses but also that Ithaca is "least of all". Now there are a couple of things here that are toned out:

Ithaca is described as a ragged place by Odysseus as well when he speaks on his homeland to the Phaeaces and even nowadays it is indeed true that Ithaca has more mountain plains than wide fields given how small the island is as well and in general Greece is over 80% mountains anyways.

Homer makes Telemachus speak on how Ithaca is the "least of all" suitable for horses. Probably that is a small hyperbole. For starters maybe one could speak on "least of all" in the islands of the Ionian sea instead, which Telemachus probably is familiar with because islands in the Aegean sea are much dryer and uphill than the islands on the Ionian sea so it is probably a hyperbole used by Homer to show how unsuitable Ithaca is for riding horses or comparing them to islands of the Ionian sea instead (because see for example an image of Folegandros which has even less greenery for horses to feed on:

However the image that Ithaca is probably boarderline hostile for horses and riding is also linked to the fact on how Ithaca is often perceived as a land rich in certain products such as olives or fruit trees (due to the mild climate) but a generally poorer island and kingdom compared to others like Mycenae, Argos or Sparta. When Telemachus visits Sparta is is mesmerized by her beauty and richness.

Even if we do have examples in Ithaca that show that Ithaca is not a weak or penniless kingdom (Penelope sits on a chair with ivory which is an exotic material very hard to find or Odysseus leaves for war wearing a crimson woolen mantle that is decorated with a golden brooch. Both gold and the color crimson were extremely valuable. For example crimson pigmentation is found only at the shells that come from the east so it would require good economy to obtain) Ithaca is by general idea a poorer and less powerful kingdom than the rest (Odysseus is one of the kings that brings the least amount of ships with him at the number of 12 and around 603 men in total including himself)

The absense of horses or the hint that Ithaca does not breed horses at all, according to some readings of the passage, is also linked to the lack of powerful status for the kingdom. The kingdom itself is not one of the great powerful kingdoms of Greece like his peers from Mycenae or Argos and the fact that a status symbol like Horses is absent is rather interesting way to show that. In fact Ithaca seems to gain fame by its people rather than its political power.

(See how Odysseus calls the island κουροτρόφο aka "nurturer of men". Odysseus implies that the importance of his kingdom is not to the status symbols but to its people and their braveness)

But can we really talk on complete absence of horses in Odysseus's life?

Cephallonia's Semi-wild Horses:

As I mentioned to the post I reblogged under @wolfythewitch post we do seem to have a breed of horses to the area. The horses are being left to roam about according to an ancient custom because Cephallonia has no much space to keep them so the farmers do tame them but leave them roam free to the plains and now they are part of the national park of Aenus mountain:

These horses have been adapted to ride perfectly well to the rough rocky terrains of the mountain. Now of course the breed was probably imported from the mainland (most likely from Pindos mountains). Cephallonia has also been suggested as the location of the homeric Ithaca (and the giver of name of his kingdom) due to the fact that it deprives from homeric description that Cephallonia was "the most far western island" or, as I would probably be willing to believe, that maybe the land of modern Ithaca and Cephallonia were connected by land at that time (take that hypothesis with a grain of salt but I think it is highly possible) other locations suggested were even Lefkas for they discovered Mycenaean remains there

It is of course unclear when these horses enter the terrain. Itis possible that the horses arrive way after the bronze age that Odysseus ellegedly lived or even after Homer's time even, if Homer doesn't mention them or mentions that horses are not possible to grow in Ithaca.

It could also be, though, that homer completely dispatches horses from Ithaca to that degree again to point out the difference of status between Ithaca and Sparta. And, another totally wild guess, is also interesting how the animal symbol of Poseidon is absent from the island of Ithaca to the poem that speaks about the hubris of Odysseus against Poseidon and the god's wrath against him! Food for thought! XD

No horses in Ithaca doesn't necessarily mean Cephallinians had no horses at all:

Another thing that people often forget is that Odysseus was not king of Ithaca only. The kingdom of Cephallenians was a kingdom that spread over several islands AND part of the mainland where modern day Aitoloakarnania is:

The kingdom is not limited to the island of Ithaca only. Acarnania is also a wide area. Horses can possibly be bred there and also be providing the islands if needed. It is interesting because Odysseus is not only in posession of a chariot in the Iliad but he also seems perfectly capable of riding horses. In the Iliad for example both he and Diomedes steal the Thracian Horses in rhapsody 10:

So she spoke and he (Diomedes) recognized the goddess's voice and swiftly jumped on the horses: Odysseus smote them with his bow and they trotted towards the fast ships of the Achaeans

(Translation by me)

Interestingly Homer uses the 3rd singular of the verb: ἐπεβήσετο (he rode) but then proceeds using the 3rd plural ἐπέτοντο (they flew/rode away). So what could it be? Could it be perhaps that Odysseus jumped on the horse behind Diomedes and smote it with his bow to start trotting away? In that case we could speak indeed on the fact that clearly Diomedes was a better rider than Odysseus given that he is more familiar with horses. However if both of them ride away that means that Odysseus is not completely oblivious of horses he just doesn't seem to be so capable with them indeed. In fact the first is rather confirmed at the passage that follows soon after:

Then Odysseus beloved to Zeus restrained the quick horses, while the son of Tydeus jumped on the ground, placing the bloody spoils to the hands of Odysseus and once more he rode the horses; hitting them with a whip and nothing stopped them from flying to the hollow ships, as they so much wished to be.

(Translation by me)

So in this scene Diomedes seems to be the protagonist, being more knowledgable on horses (he is the one who rides first and trots) while Odysseus plays a more auxiliary role (steeds and holds the horses or holds the spoils in hand) but he doesnt seem completely oblivious to the exietence or treatment of horses. He both knows how to restrain and steer them but he is also in posession of a chariot with which he fights in the Iliad and covers the retreat of Diomedes and later that same chariot comes to pick him up from the battle (see rhapsody 11).

Conclusions:

So Homer seems to be sticking to the notion that horses are not widedly used in Ithaca or the rest of the kingdom due to its rough terrain. Not only does Telemachus speak of it but we also see the image in Iliad where Odysseus is clearly not as capable rider as Diomedes given how while they trot away. Of course needs to be noted how the horses are often depicted unbriddled and without a saddle in the artwork so it is also interesting to think that Odysseus wouldn't be able to ride without equipment while Diomedes who is more familiar with horses he has no problem.

Odysseus seems to stick more to chariots than horse riding which also indicates that he is not familiar with horse riding to that extent or that he is not particularly confident in it, however he seems capable of doing it.

The existence of the horse breed in Cephallonia as well as the fact that the kingdom also involves the mainland could indicate that horses were not unknown to the Cephallenians just not widedly used. Odysseus speaks many times on horses and their beauty and strength so he is familiar with them and he can judge (bet he also learnt a bunch from his fellow kings like Diomedes and the idea of Diomedes showing Odysseus even more stuff about horses sounds a cute image doesn't it!?) but from the incidents such as the one from the Iliad, suggest that he is not confident rider.

His knowledge seems less extensive compared to his knowledge on other stuff such as sheep and goats (he praises the flock of Polyphemus for example, elemet that I also used to my retelling/one-shot fic "Escape from Cyclops Island: Hubris") or stars and navigation so indeed even if he does have knowledge on riding or chariots he is not very confident in it.

So I tend to be somewhere in the middle; I don't believe that the Cephallinians had no horses at all or that they had no idea on horses (Telemachus himself has some knowledge after all since he mentions immediately to Menelaus that his gift would be unsuitable for his land) it is just that if they can host horses it is just some very sturdy and adaptable ones like the ones used at mountain passages and even those were not widedly used. They would probably have more mules or donkeys for transportation like it happens to mountain terrains and use more cattle as farming animals. The use of horses must have been very scarce to the point of providing them general knowledge but not as widedly used as in other places

But what do you guys think? Let me know!

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tarot-archives · 8 months ago

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been thinking about what if laios didn’t leave the army?

it was difficult for him but where else will he go? he doesn’t want to go back to his cold village. he can’t be with his sister who loves the magic academy. what place will accept someone like him? he’s alienated everywhere and was always an outcast.

after completing his training, he was sent on a rescue mission. some rich girl was taken, so some important guy (a king or whatever) hires a group of soldiers to save her. turns out, she was a princess and of course the impossible mission was defeating a dragon.

cliche right? honestly, from stories like those, laios always cheered for the dragon. he doesn’t care to be a dragon slayer, but here he is now inside the abandoned castle where the dragon kept its most precious jewels. all of the soldiers have died, save for him with his monster knowledge. only this time…

“please no! don’t hurt him!”

…the princess didn’t need saving from the dragon. laios was about to deliver the final blow had the princess not stopped him. after a few minutes of begging and crying the princess explained her situation. she had raised the creature ever since it was smaller. she thought it was a lizard at first until it grew. and it grew. and it grew. even when she released it into the wild, the dragon always returned sooner or later before she shoos away again.

she kept it a secret for so long, but she had to leave her kingdom since she was betrothed to some rich older creepy dude seeking a new wife. in the first night, the princess screamed for help when her ‘husband’ tried to force himself to her. her cry for help was heard by her dragon (who apparently tailed her to the rich guy’s mansion) and killed him on the spot. in panic, upon realizing the soldiers will kill the dragon, she rode its back and flew away.

now here she is, begging in front of laios not to kill her beloved companion. she doesn’t want to go back to the kingdom who sold her to a wealthy man. it might happen again. she held laios’ hand, pleading to think of some kind of plan to save her without killing him. the princess doesn’t want any more bloodshed.

this wasn’t a fairytale. the princess needed to be saved from the people. the dragon was the one protecting her. and laios wasn’t some prince or holy knight to slay something he wanted to know more about.

laios had nowhere to go. and for the first time in a long while, he had wanted something for himself— he wanted to live with a dragon too. he was envious of the princess who supposedly ‘tamed’ a ferocious creature. how did she did it? can he do it too? where can he find a dragon egg? ah, had this dragon been female she might lay an egg or give birth and he’ll raise it as his own and be some dragon tamer. falin will want to see the dragon too. can he fly on the dragon’s back to the magic academy?

eventually, all three of you managed to escape. the princess was reported to be dead and so was laios who had left his armor to be burnt.

request? open

#laios touden x reader #laios x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #yey! i see more laios fics :))

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ordowrites · 6 months ago

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paparazzi

cw: D/s, B/D/S/M practices, maybe ooc?, modern day AU, minors dni, mdni, some choking, semi-public sex, Diluc is a brat tamer, some use of 'Sir', afab!reader, praise kink, breeding kink, breeding mention, semi realistic power exchange but not quite, oral (m.receiving), please let me know if i forgot to tag something, this is entirely self indulgent, established relationship, negotiated k!nk (off screen), not sfw, reader wears a dress, banter

ageless and blank blogs DNI. Do not post elsewhere.

word count: 2086

you two are a power couple, well loved by all - it is clear to the world diluc is enamored with you and you, him. most women desire him but oh, if only they knew what happens behind closed doors.

His arm is wrapped around your waist, hand at your hip and you look straight forward - hoping that the flashing of the lights won't blind you so much as the two of you slowly make your way down the red carpet. Paparazzi and news casters all clamor to ask questions, yelling out things in hopes of getting either your or your husband's attention. You sigh, this is the last place you want to be today but it's important to your husband to attend this party and you, the dutiful spouse, agreed to take some time from your own work to join him.

As a show for the paparazzi, your dearest husband gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him with those red eyes that always catch you off guard and entice you. Diluc is not one for such large displays of public affection but tonight, he seems to be in a very different mood. Perhaps it has something to do with your dress choice, low cut to give him a lovely glimpse of those breasts he loves to play with and a slit at the side of your leg, showing off a bit of a thigh garter you wear - it may look like a sexy fashion statement but its significance is not lost on either you nor Diluc.

When you had first put it on, he looked as if he was trying to not jump you before heading out. You had grinned and asked if he was alright, and how he had to catch himself and told you no. You love to tease him, after all, the more you tease, the more fun the night becomes. You’ve made it into a personal game to see how long you can tease him before he snaps and drags you off somewhere - he is, at heart, a wild and feral man. The bruises beneath your dress are a testament, how they flourish against your skin, how he always kisses each and everyone of those bruises afterwards. This man truly has your heart as much as you have his.

He kisses you in no extra fashion, but it seems to get the crowd excited and shouting. Soon enough, Diluc is guiding you down the red carpet again. Your relationship is the envy of all, it is perfect on the outside. Every gossip magazine, every bit of celebrity following always brings the two of you up as the ideal couple. But oh, if they knew what happened behind closed doors, you wonder if the perception would be different.

"Mr. Ragnivindr, can you tell us about your latest invention?" Someone calls, and he stops walking again and looks at them. He inclines his head to you, a small frown on those plump lips of his and you think of better uses for his mouth than talking to someone.

"She's the brains behind it, she is, after all, the smart one." He answers. "I'm merely here to...indulge. In the future, please direct questions to her."

You blush and shake your head. "Oh, Diluc," you gently admonish with a soft giggle. "Don't be so humble."

"Is honesty being humble?" He returns as he kisses you again. All for show, and you realize that he brought you along just to show you off. "I am merely stating the truth, my beloved."

With that, he hurries the two of you inside - no longer wanting to interact with a crowd of faceless strangers. Inside is much quieter, with less flashing lights and people calling out. Everyone who are all big names are at this party, all wanting to social climb or make some sort of connection.

Socializing takes all of your battery with these folks, but you do it with ease and Diluc could not look prouder. Though on occasion, you do flirt with another guy or chat them up, laughing at horrible jokes. This is just a game the two of you play - you would never be unfaithful to Diluc, but you do like to rile him up. Get him to let go of that picture perfect image he tries to maintain.

You sip at the wine that is available and sigh. You stepped away from the crowds of people to get a breather - you're certain your face will break in half if you have to keep grinning. Man, how you long to be at home, curled up on the couch with a good book while some show plays in the background. (The other option is something you want to banish from your head, but your husband being in proximity does not help you in doing so.)

"This wine isn't very sweet," you murmur as you take another sip. "It's very disappointing."

"My apologies that what we have created does not meet your palate," Diluc says - you're uncertain if he's being sarcastic or not but you grin.

"You better be sorry. You know I never settle for anything less."

He scoffs and chuckles a little bit, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I will be sure to only cater to your picky tastes in the future, my love." You snag some chocolate from a silver platter that's being carried around by some of the staff.

"Y'know," you say as you take a bite of the food. "Chocolate and wine make for an interesting aphrodisiac." He gives a soft hum in response as you hold up the remainder of the snack to him - your eyes widen when he accepts the food, but also takes your fingers into your mouth. You stifle a gasp as he sucks on your fingers and swirls his tongue around. Your cunt clenches, wishing his mouth were working somewhere else that's not your fingers.

To the outside, the two of you look like a cute couple doing something stupid and cute. More gossip for folks in the morning. Your heart pounds in your chest - you know exactly what message he is sending to you.

Especially when he releases your fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, but keeps a firm grip on your wrist as he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. He trails kisses along your inner wrist, stopping short of your elbow. You struggle to recover from this.

"Perhaps we should try that out sometime, then." He murmurs. You step close to him.

"Oh, Diluc, you're hard." you return, your voice just as low. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Hmm? Oh, well - perhaps then, too, you should stop being a tease." Diluc is a very patient man, up until a point. It's working then, you think. An idea pops into your head as you set the empty glass down. "Are you okay?"

You gently grab his hand and pull him along, weaving through the crowds of people, hellbent on the mission and getting what you want. You find an empty, private bathroom and close the door, locking it. Impeccably clean, at least.

“Are you alright?” Diuc asks again, concern etched on his pretty features. You nod as you pull him into a soft kiss, which he returns with extra fervor - your goal is to get him to lose control for just a little bit. You know, beneath this perfect image, is a very feral man waiting to be unleashed. Your body is canvas, a testament to your secrets. Fingers dexterously unzip his pants, undoing his belt and revealing his cock that still makes your eyes widen. “Oh.” You drop to your knees with ease, giving the head of his cock a soft kiss and he lets out a soft groan. “You are a very naughty girl.” The gasp is very delicious to you.

You hum as you take him further into your mouth until he reaches the back of your throat. You pull back for a moment, teasing the head of his cock for a few minutes and reaching to play a bit with his balls. His fingers perch in your hair. You continue your ministrations on him, making sure to push him further and further until he’s more of a mess than a man, looking down at you with hunger that makes you shiver.

“Quit teasing.” he hisses and you barely listen to him, loving the way his cock fills up your mouth, the way he twitches and trembles. The hands perched in your hair soon enough yank you off, leaving a trail of saliva and precum. You lick your lips and swallow. “You are a tease.” He hisses this as he yanks you to your feet, carefully steadying you before pushing you, face first, against the counter. He snaps the thigh garter and you gasp. “You’re lucky we’re not at home or this would be ending differently.”

His words send a thrill through you and make your cunt clench tighter.

“Well, hopefully, ‘m making this worth not being at home.” You say as he presses against you, his hand snaking up the skirt of your dress. Through the mirror, you watch as his eyes widen as his fingers reach your slit. “Worth your while, right?”

He presses a kiss at the crook of your neck. “You are…” Diluc bites your shoulder. “Something else.”

You let out a soft laugh and it turns into a soft moan as fingers slip inside of you - he teases you this time, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb rubs your clit - he never presses too hard but he certainly pinches every so often. You come around his fingers with a shudder as he finger fucks you, his teeth digging into your neck again.

Diluc pulls away briefly, allowing you a moment of respite - his hungry red eyes gaze down into yours. He looks wild, feral almost.

There’s a momentary pause before he’s lifting you up and hoisting you onto the bathroom counter. Diluc forces your legs to remain open, exposing yourself to him and he licks his lips. He gives your cunt another firm strike before bending down and pressing a soft kiss to it.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Beg.”

This is your penance for being a tease, you think. Your thoughts are cut off by another strike, this time a bit lighter and you whimper. The head of his cock teases you, and all you can think about is him filling you up, bouncing you on his dick, filling you up - you wish to be stretched and owned and bitten and loved.

“Please, please, please-” You whine.

“Please what?”

You swallow. “Please fuck me, sir.”

Diluc smiles. He is pleased and he kisses you on the lips briefly before shoving himself inside of you - to the hilt. At first, you tense up, moaning in desperation at such an action. At first, he is deceptively gentle - pulling out slowly and carefully thrusting back in. His pace picks up and all you’re able to do is wrap your arms around his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly - his cock feels so good and you squeeze around him.

“Gonna - breed you -” he rasps against your ear. You clench tighter. “Make sure everyone knows when they see you round and plump with my child.”

He continues to bite and suck at your neck, public appearance be damned, and you’re sure you’re noisier than the music at this rich person’s party. Diluc groans against your skin as he cums inside, easily filling you up and you nearly tighten your legs to keep him in place.

Diluc slowly pulls out, some semen dripping out of your pussy and it’s obscene, even more so when he starts shoving some back inside of you.

“We should clean up.” You murmur after a moment. “Head back.”

“Mm.” He’s biting at your breasts now, clearly no longer interested in the party. “Let’s head home, actually.” The two of you do your best to clean yourselves up, before he’s guiding you out of the bathroom and away from the ballroom. “Family emergency.” Is all he tells people with inquisitive, inquiring gazes.

The cold air outside is welcome against your flushed skin but you don’t have long to relish in it before he’s shoving you into the back of the limo and rolling up the privacy divider as he climbs on top of you while the door behind him slams shut.

The dress of your skirt is hiked up and he is pulling down your top again, lips returning to the soft skin of your breasts, hands kneading the other one.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Diluc rumbles.

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x female reader #ordo.text #diluc x female reader #diluc.txt

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bloop-im-a-frog-now · 8 months ago

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A Perfect Guide On How To Tame A Horse by Skizzleman

The first thing Skizz ever wanted to do on the Hermitcraft Server was taming a horse.

“Time to find a horse!” Skizz exclaimed to himself.

That was supposed to be the easy part. The very long, but easy part. Except, it seemed all the wild horses were gone.

“Where are the little fellas?” He asked himself. “I just wanna ride a horse!”

He had the perfect name in mind as well. He just needed a beauty, take it to his base and parade around the server with it. To show he was a true horse tamer.

Maybe he should’ve gone to Bdubs, like Impulse suggested.

No, he wanted to do this on his own, like the big boy he was. He scoured the lands, to find a horse, any horse, even if it was the slowest horse on the Server. Though, Zedaph still held that record, so, it wouldn’t be the slowest, but his point was still being made!

He’d do anything to get a horse right now.

He passed a pasture, who looked exactly like the previous one he had passed. Skizz was starting to question his sanity, but most importantly, his sense of direction. Was he running around in circles the entire time?

That was when his muse appeared. A beautiful black stallion ate some green grass as it minded its own business, and Skizz immediately knew he had to tame this horse.

He gently approached it, with wheat in his hand as he called it over.

“Here horsie, come eat that good old sweet wheat.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and the stallion slowly walked towards him, sniffing the wheat in Skizz’s hand.

That was when he hoped the wheat wasn’t too old for the horse’s tastes. He’d hate to give expired wheat to such a handsome horse.

The black stallion started eating the wheat in Skizz’s hand, and the scarred man couldn’t help but smile. He petted the horse’s black mane.

“Such a good horsie for good ol’ Skizzlie.”

The animal sniffled at the commentary, and continued to eat the wheat. When it was done, Skizz patted its neck and slowly came to its side to place a saddle on its back.

“There, there,” he petted the black, glistering coat. “Don’t move an inch,” he poked his tongue out of his mouth in concentration as he slowly placed the saddle on the horse’s back, “that’s it, just a bit more —”

The horse snorted and moved forward, making Skizz trip and fall face first on the ground. He grunted.

“Oh, c’mon now! I was so close!”

He skipped to the stallion once again, and this time did not hesitate. He placed the saddle on its back, but before he could attach the straps, the horse neighed and trotted away from Skizz once again.

The scarred man groaned and hit his forehead.

“Stupid jerk! I just want a horse!”

He launched himself to the saddle, grabbing the two straps that needed to be buckled against the stallion’s stomach, and almost received a hoof in the face for his trouble.

“Hey! Jerk face! Watch it!”

The horse whined and trotted in the pasture as Skizz struggled to buckle the straps. He was a bit busy with not hitting his head against the hooves or the rocks or the flowers in the way.

“Just stop! Moving!”

He managed to buckle the main strap until the horse galloped. Skizz grunted at the change of speed, but continued fiddling with the straps. He was determined to keep the saddle safe and secure onto the horse, even if it killed him.

Skizz buckled the smallest straps just before hitting his head on a rock he did not see. He let go and yelped in pain, putting his hands over his head as the pounding echoed in his mind. The stallion simply snorted and continued eating the green grass.

That horse was almost the death of him.

He groaned in pain. “Stupid horse and horse power.”

He raised his head from the ground and squinted at his target. The innocent jerk was still eating the green grass, but at least it had a saddle on its back. If Skizz just made a run for it and jumped on the saddle, he would start taming the horse.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He let out a warrior cry as he ran towards the stallion. It, on the other hand, neighed in terror, and just as it was about to gallop away from the running human, Skizz managed to jump on its back.

“Hiya!”

The horse neighed once more, and tried to get Skizz off of its back.

“Oh no, you stupid horse. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Skizz held onto its mane as it kicked its rear legs outwards, shook itself, and jumped across the pasture. He was struggling to hold onto the stallion, as he was shaken from side to side, jumping onto the horse’s back every time it made a sudden gesture.

Eventually, the horse tired itself to the bone, and Skizz yelped in victory.

“Yeah baby! I did it!”

The horse on its side, dragging Skizz with it. The newest Hermit yelped in surprise, and didn’t hold on to the horse as his feet slipped from the stirrup. The stallion swiftly got up and left Skizz in the pasture, trotting away and beyond the mountains.

Skizz groaned.

“Stupid horse with his stupid jerk face and his stupid — stupidity!”

Then, something munched his hair as if it was wheat, and Skizz turned around hastily, sword in hand in case it was a hostile mob.

But it was just another horse, with a dark matted mane, unperturbed by Skizz’s movements, and continued eating his hair. Skizz laughed.

“Hey there, other horsie,” Skizz laughed again as the horse’s tongue licked his forehead. “Hey! That tickles!”

The animal didn’t seem to care about Skizz’s protest, even when he stood on his feet, it continued eating his hair, following him around.

“Ack! Alright, alright, I get it!” Skizz shooed the horse away, only for it to stay by his side. He smiled. “Aw, you’re lonely. I don’t have a saddle for you, buddy, the other jerk took it away.”

The horse simply stared at Skizz, nudging its head against Skizz’s shoulder. Skizz chuckled.

“Alright! I get it! Jeez.”

He climbed on top of the horse, and it didn’t move. Not until Skizz clicked his tongue and nudged the heels of his feet against the horse.

“Oh huh. A real Gluestick, aren’t you?”

The horse trotted towards Magic Mountain, where Skizz base was, and listened to every order Skizz gave it.

“You must’ve really had pity on me struggling with that other stupid, huh? Wait!” Skizz patted the horse’s mane with a wide grin. “Gluestick! That’s your name now!”

Gluestick neighed and continued its trot.

“Yeah, me too, Gluestick. Me too.”

#hermitaday #bloop's attention seeking strategy #skizzleman #cartoon violence #i have decided to stick with 2 hermits per week #so here's a oneshot about skizz failing to get a beautiful horse

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year ago

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Batman's Bird Watching Scrapbook

This fic for the @batfam-big-bang was written for @jube-art's AU concept and artwork. The way the fic is done up, it just... it would be way too much work to post all 35 chapters on tumblr, so you get the first one, and the AO3 links. So far, the first 4 parts are up on AO3.

There are two versions of this fic.

The Cool Version, which has all the coding and formatting to make it look like an actual scrapbook. And

The Simplified Version, which does not have all the coding and formatting to make it cleaner and easier to read on mobile.

Chapter 1: Arrival of Haly's Circus in Gotham

The circus wouldn't normally attract my attention, but Alfred had been telling me shortly before, to lighten up and do something fun. I think he could tell that my mission had been taking me to a particularly dark place at that time. I snapped at him when he made the suggestion, and ended up taking it as a way to apologize to him. I had no idea what awaited me. — Bruce W.

Gotham Gazette April 5, 2009 Traveling circus comes to Gotham by Bill Finger

Though known to many as a dreary city, Gotham does have its bright spots. Yesterday afternoon, Haly's International Traveling Circus set down in Amusement Mile and set up their striped big top in the fairgrounds on the waterfront.

Performances begin tomorrow at 6 P.M. and are planned to continue daily until the night of April 18th, so be sure to get your ticket to see the show while they're still in town.

Haly's Circus boasts a wide variety of acts, carnival games, and sideshows including performances of trained, live, wild animals. Among those animals are Zitka the Asian elephant, and lions Gunther and Gurbel who perform alongside Wild Wilhelm the Lion Tamer. Haly's talented horseback dancer Linda Grey does the ballet atop Dungi the Zebra.

I had the privilege of being able to interview Mister Haly before opening day, though he was very busy, and am excited to pass on some of the highlights of what he shared with me.

"We've got all sorts here," he said, "all your standard circus folk, like Sando the strongman, Pedro the dwarf, our knife-thrower Zane and his lovely assistant Zephyr, a fabulously talented group of fire-dancers, as well as the greatest menagerie of clowns you'll find in any traveling circus around the world, if I do say so myself."

I asked him what made his circus special, and Mr. Haley was more than happy to answer me. "Well, sir, our circus may have many acts you've seen before, contortionists, and magicians, and a pair of stunning tattooed ladies, but you've never seen anything like the Flying Graysons," he claimed.

The main event at Haly's Circus, the Flying Graysons, Mary, John, and their son, are widely regarded as among the most skilled acrobats on Earth, with their young son, Richard, holding the high esteem of being the youngest acrobat in history capable of successfully performing a quadruple flip on the trapeze.

As if that weren't impressive enough, the Flying Graysons fearlessly perform all their daring trapeze stunts without a net. You'll definitely want to stay until the end to catch their closing act.

(showtimes for Haly's International Traveling Circus listed on pg. 14)

#dc #batman #batfam reverse big bang 2023 #batfam big bang #fic #things i wrote #epistolary #dc robin #batfam

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adrianasunderworld · 1 year ago

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The Night Raven Circus AU

"Come one, come all, to the most daring show in all of Twisted Wonderland! Witness spectacles beyond your imagination. Death Defying Aerial dances. Beasts from Hell tamed. Creatures from the depths. Dolls given life and fires run wild. I, Dire Crowley, will be your host this evening. Welcome the Night Raven Circus!"

✨🎪✨

The Night Raven Circus is a famous show that travels all over Twisted Wonderland. With it's Whimsical and Gothic aesthetic, to it's large cast of performers and attractions, it has always stood out over the years and has earned its excellent reputation. And, befitting it's name, the circus is only open at night.

The Ring Leader, Dire Crowley, had hired the best performers he can find. From Lilia, the best swordsman around, known for his sword swallowing an knife throwing tricks and his son Silver who is also learning the act. The fire breather Malleus. Who due to his draconic heritage is able to command fire and control it, leading to a thrilling act that scares and excites the audience. Jamil the talented hypnotist that calls audience members to take part. Along with many more.

The newest addition to the cast being Isabelle, a Beast Tamer. But instead of working with your average circus animals, she tames monsters. Griffins, Hellhounds, and of course, Grim, a feline creature that can go from a kitten to a large fire maned beast.

Other recent additions to the performance lineup being Dires daughter, Darling. Where she controls her hand crafted and life like dolls to perform for the audience. And Dreary, who has a tent she tells fortunes out of. Though most of her predictions are fake, and all her real visions are only bad things to come.

However, with all the fame of the circus, comes those seeking to topple it. The rival Playfulland Circus is run by a man known as the Coachman. The inner workings of their business being shady at best. Whenever they happen to be in the same area as The Night Raven circus, little things tend to go wrong. A wardrobe malfunctions, a prop or two going missing. Giddel has even been caught sneaking around now and then and promptly scolded. However, lately things star to escalate. Equipment is being damaged, costumed shredded. Isabelle has found the cages of her beasts unlocked when she knows for a fact it was closed.

However things take a turn for the deadly when Clara, an aerial dancer, was performing when the rope holding up the hoop she was hanging from snapped and she fell. She walked away with only a few injuries, but now Dire was enraged and needed to find a way to get back at the Playfulland circus for this.

With Darling taking over the slot that was for Claras routine, the rival circus is now keeping a new eye on the new talent to see what else they can sabotage or even copy.

Au thought I talked with @marrondrawsalot (The owner of oc Darling Crowley) about.

@mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind

Feel free to add what your characters might be doing in the circus or as audience members. Or even which circus they're apart of.

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst yuu #miss yuu #isabelle rosa #not my oc #darling crowley #dreary crowley #clara cristalería #malleus draconia #dire crowley #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #twst gidel #twst giddel #fellow honest #night raven circus au

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betterbemeta · 1 year ago

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I feel like some things in the Jurassic World movies are actually a step backward in the science-fiction zone from Jurassic Park III. I think that was the one where it was revealed that the raptors had a 'language' and complex communication that implied not just 'intelligence' but 'sapience'-- and I understand that some people felt this jumped the shark a little.

(yes I know its a dream sequence, SHUT UP, they went there,)

But I remember seeing it when I was little and it made perfect sense to follow the original beats of how the raptors were scary in previous movies because they could interact with human environments like doors. They could use deception, 'tactics' and could not easily be contained.

If you're implying that these are beings that can reason, and further acting as if this reasoning ability is more threatening than the reasoning ability of a chimpanzee or something, then you're not afraid of 'what' is hunting you, but 'who.'

And that they could have reasons beyond being hungry bloodthirsty animals to be aggressive toward you.

That you have imprisoned 'people' and not 'animals' or even 'beneath animals' (creatures that have no natural existence, creations, toys, etc.)

But there's something disappointing to me about the stuff with Blue and Chris Pratt and all of that. It feels more like the fantasy of an animal tamer at a circus who has mastery of dangerous creatures (something that most modern circuses have cut) than it feels like a relationship with an intelligent creature capable of complex communication.

(Tell me how this is different from the image of a 'lion tamer' with a chair between him and his 'beasts?')

It doesn't even feel like the level of communication that you should be having with your dog, or cat. But the raptors of course obey Chris Pratt's fantasy expertise and fantasy rules surrounding their social behaviors because the point is to depict Chris's character as skillful. 'The right way to approach raptors' is whatever the writers want it to be, unlike real dogs, cats, horses, bears, big cats, etc.

In reality, there are a lot of failed 'animal whisperers' out there, hucksters that fake being an animal behaviorist to impose fantasy-like rules on animals while abusing them, and dominance-based trainers who get sued for animal abuse if they aren't attacked by the animals first.

The Jurassic World movies seem to mitigate this idea with that the raptors are not natural creatures (but living 'in the wild' seems to be a conclusion for at least one of them?) and that they vary in intelligence level, with Blue being the most intelligent. My issue with this is that complex communication required for coordination also requires multiple parties that understand it. Why aren't the raptors basically having constant misunderstandings between their differing mentalities, or misunderstanding their handler who doesn't seem to vary his approach between them?

Basically my point is. The place Jurassic Park was going, it was fine. You made Frankenstein's Monsters, classic sci-fi dilemma. It kind of sucks that they downgraded Dinosaur Frankensteins into... the emotional replacement for circus animals in the modern day when we know dancing bears and elephants aren't ethical. However 'cool' they are on their own, that type of creature in a narrative is there to demonstrate the bravery of their 'tamer' and any 'trust' the animal has with that tamer is just the same. It's not about any creature actually making its own decisions, let alone a highly intelligent one.

It doesn't really matter that Jurassic World movies try to have it both ways, with some lip service to 'respecting' the raptors, and sometimes other dinosaurs, showing the antagonists being 'disrespectful' by contrast. If we continued the themes from JPIII, the type of 'respect' that is supposedly the 'good' position, is not the kind of respect you'd want to give to a person.

#jurassic park #jurassic world #critical #disappointments I have #sci fi downgraded in favor of circus tricks I guess #long post #dinosaurs

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dandelion-wings · 2 months ago

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Hi! For the Whumptober prompt meme: from the first list, 16 "no, I can’t feel anything", with Jean please! I hope your October gets better soon °^°

Thank you for the ask, and for the well-wishes! <3 Funny story: I did a bunch of research last night on "delayed injury" for this, because I thought it would be a fun twist for that prompt, and then I woke up this morning and... absolutely chose violence. I can rehash the same setup two prompts in a row, right? >>

(Though I am filing that research alongside a suggestion made to me re: the last fill that I saw too late to take, and there may or may not be a non-prompt story that utilizes both concepts some time in the future.)

---

ETA: now on AO3.

---

It isn't Klee's fault. She had been as safe in her play as ever, and it wouldn't have happened if the Abyss Lector hadn't arrived when it did, or if Jean had taken a little longer to consider the ground before she struck.

Klee is more than capable on her own in Mondstadt's tamer wilds. Perhaps (*probably*) it was a mistake to think that she was more-or-less harmless out there, damaging only the landscape, very careful never to put bombs anywhere near roads ("It's bad to step on bombs, ever!"), or structures ("Walls should stay up! And roofs should stay on!"), or people ("Only blow up monsters and bad guys!"). But despite her age she can defend herself ably, and even with some of the expedition returned the Knights are still stretched thin when it comes to Vision-users, who are really the only people who can safely watch her.

These are all excuses. Jean knows that when she makes them to herself, letting Klee go out the city gates day after day, but they seem solid enough.

When Klee comes to Jean and tells her that she'd seen a bad guy while she was playing in the Whispering Woods, one of the really bad scary ones she's supposed to report *right away*, Jean lets her take Jean's hand and lead her back out of the city. She'll have Klee wait a bit back from the engagement, but this is easier than searching the woods based on Klee's rather erratic directions, and Jean can handle what sounds like one Abyss Lector on her own. Besides, all the knights she would call on are of the city on missions of their own, and she doesn't want to wait.

The location Klee points out is actually on the edge of the woods, one of the lower cliffs rising up out of Starfall Valley and only half-wooded. Jean leaves her deep among the trees, in a spot with no monsters about. "If you feel like I'm taking too long, or you see anything that frightens you, return to Mondstadt and tell a Knight right away," she tells Klee, before heading up.

She circles around wide, scaling the higher cliff to the west of that one, then crouches at the edge to look down at the cliff below. From here she can see the Abyss Lector, circling a section of disturbed ground. It seems agitated, gesturing and muttering to itself, making arcane gestures with its catalyst and then dismissing it again. Jean doesn't know what it may be searching for, but generally, when creatures of the Abyss are on the hunt for something, it's better to stop them *before* she find it.

Drawing her sword, she leaps into the air, letting her glider spread out to catch her. She glides forward a few feet, lining up the angles, and then shifts her stance as she pulls the cord. Her glider's wings snap shut, and Jean comes crashing down, sword-first, upon the Lector.

The tip of her blade catches on the Lector's pauldron and drags down from there, scraping a deep gouge into its armor. Jean bends her knees enough to soften her landing and draws straight, summoning a Gale Blade. The swirling Anemo catches the startled Lector, and she uses its moment of surprise and the force of the Anemo to whirl around, then takes one step forward, ready to hurl it against the hard stone of the cliff.

As her weight comes down on her front foot, something clicks underneath.

Disturbed ground- Klee was playing here- and the Lector's appearance would preclude her usual and required warning sign.

Jean hurls the Lector in a panic, no longer thinking about her aim, and leaps sideways. She might have been fine, had it only been her and the bomb. Layers of earth on top usually muffle the force of Klee's explosions. But the Lector, which *hadn't* hit the cliff and *isn't* still staggering from the blow, recovers enough to send a fireball flying towards the spot where Jean had been. It hits just as the ground begins to bulge.

There's a soft *whumph* from beneath the dirt, and then a much louder, roaring, rumbling *WHOOMPH,* and then the very stone of the cliff goes out from under Jean's feet.

She yanks the cord of her glider only to have rocks immediately batter into it, though at least the wood and fabric of the wings serve as a partial guard against being pummeled herself by the falling stones. One does strike her in the arm hard enough that she feels bone crack, and she loses her grip on her sword. Then, tumbling wildly through the air with only the drag of the broken glider, she hits the ground in the midst of the falling stones.

More bones crack as they fall upon her; Jean, on her belly, throws her hands over her head. Then one huge boulder crashes down right in the small of her back, and she screams, her vision going white for a moment at the sheer agony of the impact, convulsing under it, bile rising in her mouth. She's retching and spitting up the remnants of her breakfast as the last few pebbles and flakes of gravel settle, a layer of thick, choking dust over the pile she's halfway buried in.

There's no sign of the Lector. Jean tries to twist about and look up, but her broken arm gives out under her, and her back is screaming with half the muscles torn, and when she tries to turn her neck alone she can't actually see past one torn, dangling glider wing.

She's gasping for air, her lungs compressed under stone and scree and further choked by the heavy dust, and pain and panic and adrenaline have her heart pounding. In the woods, under the trees, she can see Klee's pale face, her wide eyes, the way she clutches with one hand on her little book of tales that serves as a catalyst and the other tight around Dodoco. Jean mouths *'Go'*.

One thing goes right: Klee turns and bolts, rushing for the road out of the Woods.

That leaves Jean lying there, unable to see most of her surroundings, barely able to move, wracked with pain. Except for where she isn't, but Jean isn't thinking about that right now. She has to stop panicking.

Anemo still responds to her Vision's call, though she's not foolish enough to try to heal herself while she's still crushed beneath so much stone. Instead she uses it to control her breathing, dragging air in and out of lungs through her Vision's power instead of her own compressed diaphragm. As that slows and steadies, her heartbeat does, too. The pounding in her ears slowly recedes, and what Jean had thought was dizziness fades with it.

She wishes she had her sword. Instead she's channeling through her brooch, which is far from a catalyst--not that she's ever been good with catalysts. But it's enough for this one task. She won't think about what happens if the Abyss Lector does come to finish off the job.

It doesn't. Jean lies there regulating her breathing, struggling to focus on that, on the slice of woods she can see, on the ways she's going to have to rearrange the Knights' schedules in the next few days, on the wisdom of perhaps sending some of her recovery time becoming better-practiced with catalysts, anything that isn't the fear sending cold tendrils through her or the despair that threatens to choke her throat and blur her eyes. Above all, she has to stay calm.

Help comes startlingly quickly. Jean has only just gotten her breathing and heart rate fully under control and set up a rhythm she can stick to when there's a breathless, familiar shout. "Master Jean!"

"Watch out," Jean manages to croak as Amber comes pounding out of the wood and up to her. "There may be an Abyss Lector about."

"Yeah! Klee told me. Don't worry, I have a couple Baron Bunnies ready, and I told Klee to keep heading back to Mondstadt and get more people to help."

Amber is doing an admirable job of looking and sounding steady herself, though her voice wavers just a little at the end, and she's pale around the edges when she steps back to survey the pile of stone Jean is under. Jean is proud, but not surprised. The Outriders used to be responsible for wilderness rescues, when there were enough of them to handle that alone, and Amber is still usually the person who finds stranded travelers or overconfident adventurers when they run into the sort of circumstance they need to rescue from. She does know what she's doing.

In fact, just as Jean is reminding herself of that reassuring fact, Amber shoves her bow into its case and steps forward again to start taking off stones. "You're not that far in. If I get these off here, it shouldn't shift anything... can you breathe any better?"

Jean attempts a breath without any aid from her Vision and feels that the cramped feeling is mostly gone. "Yes, I can."

"Okay. Since no one else is here yet, I'm gonna take this slow! But this is way more spread out than it is piled up, so it's safe to move most of it."

Amber is well into the process of unearthing her when Albedo arrives on the scene. Jean feels something drawn tense in her relax at his presence. He's as capable of Kaeya or Eula of handling the Lector if it appears, even if he hadn't been her first thought as a rescuer.

Better yet, he's brought along a selection of survival gear that she suspects matches the contents of his emergency cabinet on Dragonspine. He leaves that to Amber as soon as she exclaims in recognition of the stretcher, though, and steps in to move the last few and largest stones instead. Amber had tested the huge boulder that had struck her in the back once, barely tilted it, and immediately decided from Jean's pained noise that she couldn't move it alone. Albedo carefully and precisely places a Transient Blossom on one side of her, just beneath an outward jut of the stone, and brings it up so that the stone tilts and then topples over on her other side.

Jean feels a bolt of rebounding pain up her back, torn muscles spasming, and chokes back a cry. She doesn't feel the same bolt going downward.

Kneeling down beside her, Albedo puts a hand to the small of her back, sending another wash of pain up her spine as he presses gently at what *must* be crushed bone. He runs his fingers lightly up from that spot to the back of her neck, prodding each vertebrae. Then the pressure returns in that painful spot, for a moment, and--nothing. Jean feels nothing at all.

She tilts her head enough to look at him, and he meets her gaze and reaches out to do something she can't make out. "Can you feel this?"

"No," Jean whispers back. "I can't feel anything."

"This?"

"No."

"And this?"

Jean can't entirely choke back the despair at that, "No."

"One last time."

Albedo's fingers are suddenly pressing down, hard, on the painful spot that makes Jean twitch all down her spine--all down the part of her spine he can *feel*--and she gasps out, "Yes."

"Hmmm." There's only the barest, slightest hint of apology lurking in his clear blue eyes; the rest is shared understanding. Jean finds herself unutterably grateful for his reserved calm as he rises again and turns to Amber. "Is the stretcher ready? We'll have to roll her onto it."

"It is," Amber says, her voice shaking harder now, face white, and Jean realizes with a sharp stab of regret that for all they'd both been quiet, for at least part of that, she'd been watching. But she drags it forward beside Jean, takes a deep breath, and looks up at Albedo. "I'm ready."

Jean manages neither to scream when they roll her onto it, nor to say more than, "It's all right," when Amber apologizes for jostling an apparently broken leg, then flinches. She lies still on the stretcher and keeps her eyes open for any sign of the Abyss Lector and guides her breath with her Vision, in and out, in and out, slow and steady, refusing to let her fear control her.

The Knights at the gate leap to help, freeing Amber from her burden, though Jean is relieved that Albedo refuses to relinquish his end of the stretcher. There's something about Geo users that seems to keep their steps always steady, and his serious calm remains a reassurance beyond what her own breath control can give. By the time they reach the second tier of stairs Noelle has come racing to take the other end, and Jean is carried to the Cathedral with as little jostling as could possibly be expected.

Sister Victoria is at the Cathedral's gates by the time they arrive, and takes ruthless control of the situation. Jean is settled in an infirmary bed by the time Barbara, whose hands are clutched in her skirts but who smiles idol-bright regardless, gets there. Jean draws in breath for a clear and honest description of her own injuries, so far as she's able to tell.

"I did a basic field examination," Albedo says before she can say the hard words of her self-report, and beckons Barbara off to a corner, facing him, so that Jean doesn't have to see her face when he says them instead.

Jean still hears her sob, once, and whisper, in a choked voice, "Big sister...." And then a deep indrawn breath of exactly the sort that Jean has been taking, and Barbara turns and starts towards the bed with a determined step and that idol's smile, only a little strained, and a nearly-cheerful, "We should start with a potion for the pain, and then I'll do- everything I can!"

---

The potion isn't just for the pain. Jean wakes in darkness; she lies still, her head fuzzy, trying to remember where she is and how she got here. Someplace close, someone is crying.

Scent and feel--medicinal herbs and familiar scratchy sheets--tell her this is the Cathedral's infirmary, so she can relax until the memory of the past day slowly filters back to her. Subtly, aware of the sobbing presence at her side, she tenses and relaxes her jaw, her arms, her back and abdomen, testing for lingering aches and pains. There's none at all, even in her lower back. Barbara is very good at what she does.

There's none at all in her legs, either, because they don't tense when Jean wishes them to. Even Barbara, best healer in Mondstadt, can only do so much. The spine is one of those few parts of the body that rarely if ever responds to magic.

Which is as good a clue as memory as to who is sitting beside her. "Barbara?" Jean whispers into the dark. It's been a long, long time since she's heard her little sister cry.

The legs of a chair scrape on the floor, and then Barbara is lurching closer, a shadow in the dark. "I'm *sorry*," she chokes out. "I tried my best, but... it wasn't enough."

There's a weight in Jean's chest that grows suddenly heavier, like another stone dropping atop her, at that admission. She hadn't even realized that she was still hoping that Barbara would say it was just taking a while, or she'd put in a nerve block, or--it doesn't matter what hopes she'd held. Those words crush them.

She swallows down her own sob of despair as they come crashing down. "It's all right," she lies, with dismay at the voice her way wavers. It refuses to steady, but she still forges on. "I am a healer too. I know how difficult nerves are, and the spine... is impossible."

Barbara swallows hard enough to be heard; her voice is a little less thick as she answers. "Not impossible," she says in a tone that's struggling to be cheerful, and failing even worse than Jean's. "Lisa says there's an Electro healer who studied in the Akademiya at the same time as her, and helps Bimarstan out sometimes with these sorts of cases. She can't always help, but... she's going to write and ask! You're the Acting Grand Master of Mondstadt, and she's Lisa's friend. I'm sure she'll come."

Or Jean can go to Bimarstan. She's afraid to have any hope at this thin reassurance. It's far from a guarantee, and to count on it... yet she can feel the weight on her chest lift just a little.

Not much. Jean wants nothing more than to burst into tears. If she was alone here, she might. But Barbara is here, and already guilty and grieving. The last thing Jean wants to do is make it worse.

*'Be strong for your sister,'* she remembers her parents saying, her mother sternly, her father kindly, both more than once. Barbara has always been the smaller of them, the weaker, the one who struggled no matter how hard she tried. Jean *can't* give into weakness in front of her, can't pile this pain on top of her own.

She holds out her arms. "It's all right, Barbara," she whispers, and pulls Barbara close when she falls into them, stroking Barbara's hair as she starts once again to try. Jean squeezes her own prickling eyes closed to keep any tears from escaping as she holds her sister tight.

---

Eventually Barbara falls asleep, and Jean after her. She wakes as the room brightens, morning's first light dancing in a dozen different colors across the room through the stained glass of the window, and finds her sister gone. A little while later a different sister of the Church comes in with breakfast--thin broth and tea--and wordlessly props Jean up with a pile of pillows before leaving her to eat.

Without anyone here to comfort, Jean feels the despair beginning to creep in. She choked the tears back too well in the night; her eyes are dry, now, belying the rising, choking tide within her breast. She takes a deep breath, then another, once again tugging at the Anemo around her to keep her breathing steady. But however steady her breathing, this time soothing her body does nothing for her mind.

Even if Lisa's friend from Bimarstan can come, even if she can help, Jean doubts it would be a quick or easy solution. When those things that so rarely respond to magic *do* happen to recover, whether magically or otherwise, it's a long, slow process, working by inches to regain feeling, or sight, or movement, or speech. The Cathedral has a half-dozen such cases already. For few do they expect to do more than maintain or slightly improve their quality of life.

So Jean can't count on that. If she assumes that this is her future--her chest squeezes tight, refusing the Anemo forced into it, until she closes her eyes and counts to ten and tries again, slowly loosening it--then what does she do next? Her days in the field are over. That means her days of leading the Ordo are over. She might remain Acting Grand Master in name until Varka returns, though perhaps it would be better to formally and officially return to Master of the Knights and give Kaeya the title, but there's no question now of her ever becoming Grand Master in earnest. Nor remaining Master of the Knights, at that. It's a more administratively-focused position, but both are expected to provide leadership in battle, and she cannot.

A future outside the Knights looms large and terrifying, empty of all purpose. With effort, Jean turns her mind away.

Until Grand Master Varka *does* return, it's unwise to make such a dramatic change in the Knights' command structure as to remove herself entirely. She can still handle the administrative side of affairs, in fact might do better at staying on top of it without anything else to handle. If Kaeya takes over as central commander in the field it will detract from certain other work he does, but she's not a fool. She does know Sister Rosaria does enough similar work that she might be able to ask her, obliquely, for more assistance--or even have her reassigned to the Knights as an adjunct for the duration, though that would be a fight with both the Church and, she suspects, Rosaria herself. And while she hates to lean upon Diluc, under the circumstances-

Diluc. What will he have to say about this? He's left the Knights, too, but she can't ask him for any advice about her future. Diluc left with a purpose of his own, a righteous one, even if she disapproves of some of the methods with which he pursues it. He still protects Mondstadt, in his own way. He still *can* protect Mondstadt. Jean has trained all her life as a knight, dedicated heart and body and soul to its defense. Now she's nothing but a broken shield, her very presence on the battlefield a weakness rather than a strength.

Jean tries to make herself stop *thinking* of this, to focus on the immediate needs of the situation, to drown her fears in expediency. It isn't working. Every thought leads to the yawning depths of the life ahead, robbed of her family's ancient duty and the calling she feels in her own heart, without the strength to serve Mondstadt as has always been her joy.

Perhaps she can find a place in the Cathedral. They're always in need of healers, and while she'll never be Barbara's match, she could learn to use her healing more delicately than battlefield medicine requires. It isn't what she *wants*, but that's a selfish thought; it's still service, will still help Mondstadt. If she has to give up the career she's pursued her entire life, the work at which she excels, the comrades with whom she's fought side-by-side, whose lives she's saved and to whom she owes her own life....

Jean's chest has once again tight, and this time she can't focus herself enough to loosen it. She starts a flow of Anemo and then thinks, this is something she could do as a Church healer, and then she's imagining herself sitting there forcing air in and out of lungs as she's done a time or two in the field, and then her chest tightens again. She abandons all control of the Anemo around her and just sits there wheezing until it loosens of its own accord, unable in any way to heal herself.

The broth and tea still sit on the side table. Jean has no desire to eat, feels almost nauseous with revulsion at the thought, but she knows that she needs to after such a complex healing. There's no point in making Barbara and the other sisters' lives more difficult. She picks up the bowl, manages one lukewarm spoonful, and tells herself she's warming up for another as she chases the one stray slice of spring onion that hadn't been strained out around the bowl with her spoon.

Before she can wind herself up for that second spoonful, there's a knock on the door. Jean knows who it is from the cadence before Kaeya pushes the door open. He's filthy, covered in dust with his boots smeared with dried mud all the way to the top, and he moves with the careful walk of someone who's been riding far too long as he appropriates Barbara's chair.

"You're meeting with the commander of the Millelith in Liyue Harbor today," is all Jean can think to say.

"Unfortunately, I had to cut that conference short. That does mean the Tianquan will know what's happened by this afternoon, but even if I'd been here already, she would have known by tomorrow evening in any case." He flicks the whole subject away with a hand and leans in. "Lisa filled me in. How are you?"

Jean takes a deep breath, sits up as much straighter as she can manage when she can only rely on the pillows to hold her, and gets ready to fill him in. "I've considered the situation, and I think it may be best to name you Acting Grand Master, and resume a support role as Master of the Knights until Grand Master Varka returns. I should still be capable of all the administrative duties of the Acting Grand Master, and fully intend to continue doing them, so as not to completely overwhelm you with work. I may even be able to take over your work as Quartermaster for the duration, but the Knights need a commander fit to take the field. I had thought to ask if Sister Rosaria might-"

"*Jean*," Kaeya interrupts, leaning in, looking at her seriously. "How are *you*?"

All of Jean's efforts to stave off the tightness fail at that question, and it feels as if her chest caves in on itself. Now the tears come, her throat closing and her eyes prickling. She calls Anemo again to help her breathe past it and blinks hard.

"I have to talk to Klee," she says, desperate for something, *anything* to say that won't turn into a sob. "She saw everything, and one of her explosives was involved. There were clearly errors... I should have fully considered the safety ramifications of allowing her to bury them, even well away from habitations and with their locations marked as she has been doing. Those will have to be addressed, but I don't wish her to think that she was at fault."

"I've already talked to her," Lisa says, coming in through the open doorway. "Albedo has, too. You have an *adorable* get well-card on the way, though it might be a little delayed. I mentioned that the wheelchairs they use at Bimarstan would be useful if not for all of Mondstadt's stairs, and she and Albedo got distracted trying to design a chair that could handle them.... But let us handle her for a little while."

"Thank you," Jean whispers, and, humiliatingly, sniffles, unable any longer to hold back the tears.

Lisa, not even bothering to look around for a second chair, comes around the bed to sit directly beside Jean. She rests a hand on Jean's arm, and her perfume fills the air, familiar and comforting, the same sweet roses with a faint deeper undertone that has surrounded Jean a thousand times when she's come to the library to steal a quiet moment and a cup of tea. As always, Lisa's presence is all it takes to coax her secrets out.

"I'll- I can do my best to help the Knights, until Grand Master Varka returns," she chokes out. "But I can no longer *be* a knight. I can't- I am meant to be Mondstadt's sword and shield, and yet I cannot serve- there is so little I can *do*."

Kaeya leans in further, tensed to rise from his chair, shoulders shifting and hands coming up as he looks at her in uncertain question. Jean gladly holds out an arm, and he steps forward and rests his knee on the bed and pulls her into a hug, one of the sort she's felt too old for since first was made a captain. Lisa slides in closer behind Jean and wraps an arm around her from the back, and Jean buries her face in Kaeya's shoulder, dust and all, and lets his cape soak up her tears.

"You know," Kaeya says, "the Inspector's position has been open for what is it, now? Five years? It requires someone of utmost integrity to fill the position, preferably with considerable experience, and it isn't a combat role."

Lisa chimes in, rubbing Jean's shoulder comfortingly with her free hand. "I'm sure Barbara has already told you that I've written to an old associate from Sumeru. Even if she can't be as much help as I hope, Sumeru is much more forward-thinking about these sorts of problems than Mondstadt is, and she may have some ideas. I wouldn't count out Klee's 'Bouncy-Jouncy Carriage,' either."

"And while Diluc might make a production out of insisting you needn't stay a knight, you know he'll do whatever it takes to get you any help you need," Kaeya adds. "The Dawn Winery's name and money can open plenty of doors."

"I know." More tears are welling up, and Jean clutches at Kaeya for support as she's wracked by a sob. "Thank you. Please don't- I would rather not, right now, but- thank you."

"Whatever you like, darling," Lisa says, and Jean can feel Kaeya's nod.

Another sob takes her, and another, and in the arms of her two best friends she curls around the weight of despair in her chest and lets them hold her through it, just for a little while. There will be time for hopes, for plans, for rebuilding the future around everything that's just changed. Right now, Jean needs this space to mourn.

#ngl the mood on this one has... external influences. but here we are #asked and answered #why not meme i guess #someone please give jean a nap #ascended fic

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ephemerensis · 1 year ago

Text

Kalopsia // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

lolz wrote this to cope bc im losing my mind, not proofread xoxo enjoy this is angst and hurt bc forgiving people is too easy when they were more than you could bear

—

“Let’s break up.”

At the time you felt so grown up to offer it. Looking back, it seemed more like an act of desperation. Those words were a lifeline thrown to sea, a silent plea for him to deny you and prove it was all still salvageable. But lifelines meant little when there was nothing to swim back to, and your ship had long been sinking.

Things moved slower in summer. A cruel juxtaposition to the winter you met in, the winter you felt you embodied and the winter he said he loved. But as the days grew longer, honeying the time you spent together, you could feel it all so much more clearly. You practically bathed in it, suffocated by the ailments of the inevitable. It wasn’t working.

So you casted your lifeline, pleading Tim would grasp it, he would disagree and fight for you. All under the guise that this needed to happen.

Your head rested on his core, the two of you sprawled out on a picnic blanket under the clear skies. His hand was running its course through your hair. The sun was so warm, but not quite as warm as the hope that flickered in your chest when you felt him tense. His hand paused and for a moment you tasted salvation. Then he unfroze, melted in the summer heat. Tantalizingly caught up in the lazy summer air’s slow, he was fine.

And you were bitter when he accepted.

“Okay.”

You could feel the reserved smile that graced his gentle features without looking. But even after all this time, you could never tell really what he meant by it. And that was months ago.

Now you were in the city alone. Your own apartment. A steady job. The same cream cheese everything bagel in the morning with a cup of hazelnut coffee from the cute little bakery on the corner next to the police station everyday, where you knew his brother worked but also knew he would never visit. The one you were bustling into today, the drops of snow that followed you in instantly disintegrating when met with the warm bakery air. The lingering thoughts of him and his coffee comatoses fading as the sharp cinnamon scent hit you.

There he stood. The millisecond it took for you to recognize him stretched on for centuries. You missed him so much that you’d conjured up a visage built from a stranger’s likeness, you’d thought. The familiar unkempt raven head of hair, and the way he was always hunched over to squint at his phone while he waited for his morning cold brew.

But it was him. Your body knew it before your mind did, feet freezing in place as you stared. When he turned around, the roots holding you to the ground grasped you for a moment too long. It was enough for him to see you and your dumb conflicted expression, despite the hustle bustle of morning rush hour. Enough for him to stare back a second longer than he should’ve as you turned around and took off.

You couldn’t place in your head exactly why you were running. The cafe just suddenly felt too small and the look in his eyes as you turned to leave felt too gentle. So against any semblance of logic, you decided to hurry away. You heard him call after you as you ran down the sidewalk. You saw him comb through the crowds almost frantically as you pressed your back against an alley building. You saw him run past the alley. But like an unavoidable magnetism, you saw him stop and turn; eyes finding your own amongst the throng of moving people.

Everything was silent as he approached you. Slow; like a tamer to a wild animal, holding your gaze the whole way. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel so vulnerable. As if his eyes could read your soul.

And then he was in front of you and the noise came rushing back. In fact, it was a little too loud as you stared up at him, you almost didn’t hear him say hello.

It was a timid one. The kind you would offer your mother after the two of you fought and you wanted to test the waters after the smoke cleared.

“Hi,” you said in the same small way. There wasn’t much else to say. This was the boy who knew every unapologetic aspect about you. The one whose wellbeing became your earth shattering priority. The one your heart still whined at the prospect of knowing. The boy you shouldn’t be thinking of again, because he was nothing to you now. You broke up.

He looked at you almost apologetically. Not that he had to. You weren’t mad at him. You had no right to be angry. You, with your subliminal messaging and silent pleas, broke up with him.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself as the memories bubbled up. Never knowing where he was at night. Apology flowers on days that dates were lost to fatigue. That stupid feeling of being taken for granted every time you wanted to get closer to him and he pushed you away as if you were in the wrong.

It was a mutual, clean, break. You must’ve been clingy for him to let you go so easily.

“How are you doing?”

You couldn’t make eye contact. It wasn’t his fault but it didn’t hurt you any less. If he knew you he’d know that. If he knew you. Instead you kept your gaze pinned to the wall behind him as you tried to sort your thoughts and swallow your feelings.

“I’m doing great,” you hated how meek you sounded. As if a person you knew so deeply would make you shrink back in your shell like this. “You?”

“I’m good too. Do you visit that shop often?” If he could sense your apprehension he didn’t show it. Enthused was a better word to describe him.

“No,” you lied. Half because you didn’t want him to know where you frequented. “Just when I’m in the area.” Half because you were tired of bearing yourself to someone that never really saw you.

“That’s cool.” You could hear the smile in his voice. The awkward one that made it seem like this, you, pained him. It was so frustratingly condescending, as if he wasn’t the cause of your misgivings.

“Yeah.” A beat of silence passed and you waited. For what exactly, you couldn’t be sure. An apology, an extension, a follow up question— some tidbit about his life you were dying to know but too hurt to ask. Anything.

But that was it. It was too little and too much all at once. Nothing changed.

Ducking your head down, you slipped past him, reentering the busy sidewalk to just get away as he stayed still there. Foolishly, something in you, the part that still loved him, hoped he would stop you but you knew better.

Except he did. He caught you by your arm just as you were about to slip away into the crowd.

“Wait.”

You had every means to pull away, his grip wasn’t so tight. This was a plea, not a command. He was cruel for it, because as much as you’d get mad and give up and run away, you would crumble if he’d asked. That’s exactly how you felt now. Frustrated to no end but as he uttered that ‘wait,’ you felt the earth crumble at your feet, forging a path that could only lead to staying for him.

It was enough to make you want to cry.

“Please. Don’t do that to me.” Meek and mild and weak; something you could never be to anyone else. The worst part was, you never wanted to present yourself to him that way either— he’d just invoked it in you in a way that made you feel so exposed it was terrifying.

Now he looked confused, as if this was unexpected, “…what?”

“Don’t tell me to wait, because if you do I’ll wait here for centuries. I’ll look for you in every alley that I pass on the way.” You looked at him, locking your tear brimmed eyes with his own cerulean depths you’d fallen into time and time again. “I’ll seek refuge in every stranger I meet, wondering what exactly I’m missing that made us wrong as if I had some fatal flaw that made me so dismissible to you. Every time you open your mouth, I listen like a dog and you would know that if you’d known me. It’s mean, Tim. You’re being mean.”

You were crying now, calcium streaking your cheeks, but you were too used to the embarrassment to care. That’s how it was with him. You were raw. Vulnerable. And he just looked at you as if that’s the way you were.

“I’m sorry.” His hand reached towards you, to rest on your shoulder, but you shrugged it away.

“You’re not! And that’s the thing with you, I can’t even be mad. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is all my fault! I couldn’t ever be good. I couldn’t ever talk to you. I couldn’t ever let go. I overthink every little thing when it comes to you, I can’t even be here without imploding. I broke up with you. So please… don’t be cruel and let me go. Tell me to leave and I’ll listen.”

For a minute he just stared back and you wondered if your words even registered at all. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Why should I?”

It was your turn to be bewildered.

“You’re wrong, for the record, and I’m sorry I let you go; and I miss you.”

“Tim—“

“I know you. Not as well as I’d like, and clearly not enough for you to see it, but I do. You have never been selfish once in your life; not with people you care for. You keep your mouth shut and you act like everything is fine to avoid burdening others.”

He’d taken your hand somewhere during the course of his proclamation, but you didn’t feel inclined to pull away. For the first time you saw it in him; the sundering you felt when you bore your sores to him “I’d known that, and I thought if I just gave you time you’d open up to lean on me.”

“I tried, Tim. I reached out to you every chance I got to the point where I doubted you even wanted to be around me. And I know that’s my fault too for not being more benign, but you can’t have expected that out of me.” You couldn’t count the amount of times you poured your heart out to an empty spigot. He was so above it all, it made you feel bad. Tim never cried like you did, fists pounding on the floor. Nor did he run into half as many conflicts.

“And I was wrong for it.”

Even now it felt like you were losing a war he didn’t know you were fighting. You had your hand laid bare while he was still dealing the deck. “Why’d you agree with me? Why did you let me break up with you?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted and I was stupid. I knew you were hurting, and more than anything I wanted you to be okay. I’m sorry, but please don’t ever think it was easy because it wasn’t. I just didn’t want you to feel any worse.”

“I was hurt! I was so inconsolably hurt, but it hurt so much more to be without you.”

Your voice broke as you choked back a sob. He pulled you in and like a dog you didn’t resist, falling back into the arms you’d run away from. They were so warm.

“Let me try again,” he’d whispered to you.

And against your better judgement you whispered back, “okay.”

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake angst #angst #batman #dc #red robin x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader

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