#any Mount of praise would have me crying tears
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Damien is the friend to check your essay for grammar, spelling mistakes, and making sure that shit just makes sense in general.
He will straight tell you if you need to redo a paragraph or if your essay is ass and he will have an essay of his own about why it is.
"Run on sentence part 1. Add a comma. Add a quotation. Run on sentence part 2. This sentence isn't necessary. Make this into a new paragraph. Run on sentence part 3-"
#redacted audio#redactedverse#redacted asmr#redacted damien#if Damien peer reviewed my essay id kms#any Mount of praise would have me crying tears#like holy shit I thought you hated me ok good at least I can write hooks#Like wtf#him and Lasko grilling people on their shit writing >>
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Pray for me. I’m so sick and wanting to end my life. It’s been days and I can’t do this.
I will definitely be praying for you, but in the meantime, please don't end your life. A friend reminded me recently that God created each and every one of us for a reason. He looked at this world and said, you know what this place needs? And then He created you. You are just as important to God as Saint Michael the Archangel, and He loves you so very much. The world would be worse off without you, believe me.
I know the despair you're in well - I've felt quite a lot of it myself. But I stuck around to see another day, and I'm glad of it. Just hang on, and God may surprise you with what He has in store. Put your faith in Him, and He will not steer you wrong. Here are some bible quotes for when you feel hopeless, or not strong enough.
"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.'" -Jeremiah 29:11
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." -Philippians 4:13
"But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." -Isaiah 40:31
"It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed." -Deuteronomy 31:8
"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." -Isaiah 41:10
"Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God." -Psalm 43:5
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." -Revelation 21:4
God is always with you. Remember, He will never put you through any trial that He knows you aren't strong enough for. You can do this. I believe in you.
Feel free to dm me if there's anything you want to talk about - or even send more anons if you'd be more comfortable with that. I'm always ready to listen.
God bless, and stay strong.
<3 <3 <3
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Send me a 😭 for a random sad scene from one of my works.
Oh no! A sad scene! Although I try to write fulfilling stories, you can't avoid sad moments. These moments shape our characters just as much as the happy ones. Here's one from a potential alternate beginning to my Post-Heavensward AU, one that explores a different facet of Kali and Thancred's dynamic.
Under the cut for length:
He caught her sneaking out of the city one early morning, wrapped against the cold and guiding her mount towards Coerthas. When he’d asked if she minded the company, she’d hesitated; unusual as she’d never seemed to mind companionship before - but ultimately she’d agreed, her eyes downcast, her voice hoarse.
And she’d led him to a lonely mountainside near some ruins, upon which rested several gravestones - one of which bore beside it a ruined shield.
And as she knelt in the snow before that gravestone; as tears froze down her cheeks; as she gave voice to soft, pleading prayer, Thancred began to understand.
The name on the stone: Lord Haurchefant Greystone of the Silver Fuller.
The young Elezen lord who had welcomed her to Ishgard, who had spoken for her, who had fought beside her, who had never had any word for her but admiration and praise.
The young Elezen lord who had loved her deeply; who, in less dire circumstances, might have spoken to her of his feelings.
The young Elezen lord who had sacrificed his own life because he could not bear the idea of the Warrior of Light losing hers. Who had died before her eyes, words unsaid, but felt nevertheless.
As he stood there, gazing down at the weeping, mourning Warrior of Light, he felt his own heart shrivel in his chest. Time and again, he’d turned away from his own feelings and hers - always with reason: they were both Scions, she didn’t have time for distractions, he didn’t have time for distractions, she hated him after Lahabrea.
Always a reason.
And finally, she’d given up, turned to someone who had what Thancred lacked - the ability to love.
And he had died, cut down for her. He had made the ultimate sacrifice, for her.
No wonder that bright soul burned so dim. The burden of grief had to be overwhelming, and who could she share it with?
Not Y’shtola, who had never met Haurchefant, and had little patience for the vagaries of the heart. Not Alphinaud, whose own tendency towards guilt would cause him to take on a burden for which he was unworthy. Not Ser Aymeric - he would give her everything he had, of that Thancred had no doubt, but he had his own burdens in running the Holy See. And certainly not the lords of House Fortemps, family of the man who had sacrificed for her.
And not Thancred, who stood awkwardly in the snow, watching the Warrior of Light - the woman who meant more to him than any other save one - cry, her sobs filled with heartrending loss. What could he do to ease that pain?
All he’d ever done was add to it.
So he turned away, standing guard, standing vigil, while she wept unceasingly, her grief unassuaged by her tears.
Send me an emoji for a snippet from one of my works!
Thank you for the ask!
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nov 6
all springs need a source
"but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. but the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life." john 4:14
a spring is a fascinating thing. i remember the first time i saw a spring in nature. there, right in the middle of nothing was this little trickle of water pushing it's way up out of the ground. it was fascinating to watch. i don't know what it's source was, but it was like this cramped cavity it had found was just a temporary escape, not nearly enough to offset the freedom it longed to enter. and so, it forced it's way through the surrounding layers of dirt into a limitless universe without any bounds. that's how the Holy Spirit is us. He wants to push His way through the hardened shell of self into a limitless life found in Christ Jesus.
there can be violence and peace at the same time. the psalmist proclaimed, "all my springs are in You." psa 87:7 the slow emerging of springs can eventually produce waves that would drown. that same psalmist also sang, "deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and billows have gone over me." psa 42:7
as waves roll over, they provide a gap between the face of the wave and it's lip, making a tunnel of sorts surrounding it's center. surfers call this the barrel. the Holy Spirit wants to become that mighty, powerful wave of glory which no force on earth can withstand. He wants to place us in His barrel or tunnel of serenity, gently caressing us with His arms of love.
but how impatiently we all often "wait" on the Lord. we cry, i need it. i need it now, Lord, and He replies, "you know not what you need." what we need is the Lord His self and not the "thing" insistent before us. "but those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." isa 40:31
when you pray, how much time do you spend petitioning and how much listening? petitioning used to be all my time with the Lord was consumed with. i still lay them before the Lord, but now i also spend time listening. that's where a lot of topics i write about come from. that's why i call them God whispers.
"He will not cry out, nor raise His voice, nor cause His voice to be heard in the street." isa 42:2 He is that still. small voice that only the trained ear can hear, especially in the midst of the storm. He is that wave tunnel, surrounding and caressing us. if ever we needed ears to hear, we need them now as the storm rages around us.
Lord, there are times when i have felt all Your waves and billows, and there are times i feel i am back at Your spring gently emerging. both are precious and sufficient for their purpose. i don't know that this flesh could sustain the waves if they continually came. but we have found our respite in You. we know that as long as You are the source of that spring, Your waves and billows will follow again.
i was wondering the other morning if my tears in prayer were really serving His purpose or mine. were they flowing into His spring or secretly supporting a pride of intimacy? were they for myself more than God? all i know, they always flow and i can't stop them; often even in just reading His precious word.
then i was reading one morning and the Lord really quickened this to my spirit. "those who sow in tears shall reap in joy. he who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." psa 126:5-6 praise God! as long as they are tears of longing and not regret, as long as i keep planting seed for my tears to water, joy shall triumph and a harvest reaped - in His time. i shall continue to plant my seeds and water even with my tears. His barren ones will have a measure to reap in His harvest.
therefore, "i have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand i shall not be moved." psa 16:8 you see, He is our qualifier. "giving thanks to the Father who has qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in the light." col 1:12 not by works of righteousness which we have done, but by His grace. He must increase, but i must decrease. flow Holy Spirit, flow! You are the source of all.
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(*squealing loudly over chibi Danny*)
Part 3! @extratiredofyourcrap
Breaking out Martian Manhunter had gone a lot easier than Danny had expected it to. His plan of having Superman smash things and Batman short out the electricity proved flawless. It also helped that he and Flash rounded up everyone inside the building and brought them to Green Lantern and Diana to watch over. All in all, it took them an hour at most.
Danny was buzzing with excitement. His first hero mission with the Justice League! Well… since he’d come out of the Speedforce, anyway. He’d been on multiple missions with his friends.
Forgetting his situation for a moment, he squealed with excitement. “Impluse, you saw that, right? I totally went in there and kicked major ass! Robin, please tell me your cowl was recording that. I do NOT want to have to go through Batman’s feed again, I still can’t unsee what he did with Catwoman—Superboy and Wondergirl would make fun of me forever if they couldn’t see my awesome takedown adventure!”
He turned around to high five Impulse and stopped cold. Superman was standing behind him, a look of pity on his face. “Danny…”
He felt his heart break as the reality of his situation hit him in full force. Right. His friends weren’t here. They wouldn’t ever be here again. Sniffling, he ran past both Superman and Flash. Flash tried to run after him, but the other speedster couldn’t even get close to his speed.
He ran for what felt like hours, but in reality was just seconds. He ran straight to Mount Justice, but when he saw that it was just a mountain, with nothing inside of it, he broke. Sobs forced their way out of his body. He collapsed to his knees, resting his head against the ground as he pounded on the ground with his hands.
“Why?!” He sobbed, uncaring of the dirt that he was getting on his goggles. “My life is gone! Why would you… why couldn’t you have let me die with them?!”
He rolled over and sat on the ground, ripping the goggles off of his face and throwing them far away. He wrapped his arms around his knees as the sobs kept coming.
As he shifted, he realized there was something in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, noting that it still turned on. It had no service, but it still worked. He opened up his photo gallery and shifted through the pictures until he found the one he wanted to see.
The picture was taken after the first mission he had ever done with his team. They were able to stop a villian that was threatening New York City without the aid of any other heroes. Danny had one arm around Robin’s shoulders and the other arm around Impulse’s shoulders. Danny had a massive grin on his face. It was Wondergirl who had taken the photo. He swiped right, and then a group image of the five of them displayed. They were sitting on a couch in Mount Justice. Superboy, Robin, and Impluse were sitting side by side while Wondergirl was draped across their laps. Danny was behind the couch, putting two fingers behind Robin’s head to give him bunny ears. He clicked play on the next video.
“There he is!” Flash clapped Danny’s back. “Savior of Metropolis!”
“I didn’t do everything, Dad.” Danny blushed dark red. “Superboy and Wondergirl did most of the work.”
“So modest!” Flash pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.
“Oh come on!” He threw his hands up, trying to distract Flash away from giving him praise. “Robin did more work than I did.”
Green Lantern walked over to them and tussled Danny’s hair, pulling him into a hug. “Just accept the praise, son. You’ve earned it.”
The video ended, and Danny had started crying again. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Looking at the photos and videos hurt. He felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest with every memory that was playing in front of him.
“Why?” He croaked. “You could’ve saved Impulse. But you chose me? Why?” His voice cracked. “Impulse deserves to be here. Not me.”
He felt it before he heard it. Gentle footsteps coming near him. He didn’t pick his head up. Part of him hoped it was a villain—so that he could be reunited with his friends.
“I found him.” Superman said into his comms. “But can you guys give us a moment? Thanks.”
Superman took a seat beside him. The two sat in relative silence for a few minutes while Danny continued to sob.
“I’m the last survivor of my planet, you know.” Superman’s voice was soft. “But I don’t remember Krypton. I remember Earth, and my family.”
He looked over at Superman, wiping the wetness from his eyes. “You’ve told me this before.”
“Maybe I did in the future.” Superman shrugged, “But maybe you need to hear it again.”
“I don’t think I do.” He sniffled.
“Family is the most important thing.” Superman continued, “But when they’re gone, it feels like all of the hope is drained from the world. The world is empty without them, and you don’t think you can continue.”
He looked away from Superman. “I don’t want to.” His voice was hoarse. “I want my friends.”
“I understand.” Superman put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we’re not your friends. But we are here for you now, Danny. You’re one of us.”
He leaned into Superman’s touch, gently sighing when Superman wrapped his cape to cover him. He hadn’t hugged Superman like this in months. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, we can set you up with a new identity. Enroll you in school.” Superman looked out at the mountain around them. “This is a nice area for a base, isn’t it? It’s nice and secluded.”
He snorted. “Yeah, till the Legion of Doom raids it and nearly destroys the place.”
“Legion of Doom?” Superman’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Seriously?”
“I didn’t make up the name, trust me.” He almost laughs, but the burning grief in his chest stops him. “A few years after that, you guys let us have it. It becomes the base of the Young Justice team. Robin, Aqualad and Kid Flash started that.”
Superman listened to him talk as he looked at the mountain. “Was it safe for them?”
“Not in the slightest. But that’s what made it fun. They learned as a team, fighting the threats, and improving security measures—that was, till Aqualad went rogue and blew the mountain up completely. They couldn’t use it much after that. We tried, but well, you can only do so much without people noticing. And it was hard to hide an entire mountain exploding.”
“The more you speak of the future, the more I’m concerned about it. You said I was alive, right?” Superman asked and he nodded, “Where was I during all of this?”
“Are you sure you want to know about your future?” He raised his eyebrows. “It’s dangerous to know too much about things.”
“That’s why you were sent back in time, right? To change the future? How do you know that you haven’t already prevented some of the events you tell me about?”
“I don’t know.” He said after a brief silence. “Some of it is really bad.”
“We can handle it.” Superman looked to the sky as Green Lantern was flying towards them. “Together.”
“Together.” He agreed.
Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.
Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.
After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.
The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!
Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!
Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.
“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.
“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”
“Of who?” Batman demanded.
“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.
“How did you escape?” Flash asked.
He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”
Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”
“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”
Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.
“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.
“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”
“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.
“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”
“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.
“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.
“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.
“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“
“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.
He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”
Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”
“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”
“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”
He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.
“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.
“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”
“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.
“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”
“Like what?” Superman asked.
“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”
The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”
“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”
Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.
“Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”
“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.
“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”
Superman looked pale. “I see.”
“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”
“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.
“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.
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The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Four
Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.
A reverse harem, biker AU.
Part Three Summary: Syverson and Lori get through the night as tension between them mounts. Sy, discusses the situation with the Brothers.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC
Word Count: Approx. 3.6k
Warnings:
Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.
Part Three Warnings: Flirting, smutty thoughts, angst, fluff.
Authors Note: I need to apologise for not having replied to the comments on the last chapter. I will get to them soon I promise. I have had a lot going on in my personal life. I've been offline a bit, trying to deal with it all. Things will get better, I'm just going through a low point (my hormones are NOT helping). As a result, I'm not sure if this chapter is my best work, but here it is and I hope you enjoy.
Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.
Masterlist
Parts Masterlist
Part Three Part Five
Syverson
When Lori came out of the bathroom I kept my eyes on the window.
I had only just managed to calm my raging boner and seeing her in those little pj shorts and tank top was not conducive to keeping my cool.
What was I thinking coming onto her like that? It was reckless, unprofessional, stupid and overstepped the agreement the Brothers and I made. Yeah I wanted her, yeah I flirted with her back at her apartment, but the ride had made me see sense. She wasn’t mine to have.
A muffled sound came from the bed. At first I ignored it. Then I heard it again and realised what it was. Lori was crying.
I glanced in her direction. She was facing away from me with the blankets pulled up over her head which was probably why I couldn’t hear her at first. Her shoulders jerked sometimes, like she was trying to hold back and she probably was.
My first instinct was to comfort her, wrap her in my arms so she didn’t have to cry alone. But after my bullheaded pass she’d probably take it the wrong way. And she wouldn’t be completely wrong. Of course I wanted to feel her body against mine again, but I wouldn’t take advantage of her in this state.
Besides, she probably didn’t want me to know she was crying. She was doing everything she could to hide herself from me. I felt like an asshole, especially after earlier, but invading privacy in cases like this was par for the course.
She wasn’t the first woman we protected to cry at night. Hell, even a few of the men had. And God knows she had cause to. Not only had she just been taken from her home by five strange men, she was in fear of, not just her life but that of her brother’s too. Of course she’d be scared, if she had any sense. On top of all of that, she had buried her parents earlier in the day. Who wouldn’t be at least tempted to shed a few tears in her situation?
I had every intention of ignoring her and letting her cry herself out and hopefully sleep through the night. Then I heard her again and I couldn’t stand by and let her go through it alone.
Sighing, I went closer and standing over the bed I could hear her clearly. Poor girl sounded awful.
I squatted down to her level beside the bed and asked softly, “You okay, Babycakes?”
All movement stopped and I heard a soft sniffle.
“I’m okay,” came her warbled and muffled reply.
”Ya sure?”
Lori slowly lowered the covers and peeked out. My chest felt tight as I stared into her glossy and bloodshot eyes. God, she was a pretty little thing, even all red faced and teary.
I smiled. “Hey.”
She just looked at me. Staring hard back at me almost as if she hated me for seeing her vulnerable.
Keeping my smile soft, I reached out and laid my hand on her cheek.
The corners of her lips raised briefly, then she lowered eyes. I rubbed her cheek, ignoring the fat tear that spilled from the corner of her eye and ran down the edge of her nose and rested on her lip. Her little hand came out and wiped it away with a jerk, as if she were angry.
“You can cry if ya wanna, no shame in it. ‘Specially after what you've been through. You don’t gotta hide.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
My brows drew together. “You're cryin’. What else would I do?”
“So this isn’t part of the contract?”
My lip twitched. Sassy bitch.
“Another freebie, just for you, sugar,” I said. I licked my lips and added, “Hey, about earlier. I didn't see anythin’. I wasn't— I was only gonna close the door and— Well, I didn't see anything. Okay?”
She smiled through her tears and nodded. Then she opened her mouth to say something and her chin wobbled.
“Hey, Baby. C’mere.” I held my arms out and hers flew from the covers, encircling my neck and she pressed her face into my chest.
Without breaking her surprisingly strong grip on my neck, I pulled her close to me and got onto the bed, resting my back against the headboard. She surprised me again, climbed onto me, drawing her legs up until she was a small ball sitting across my lap. Thank God, she had put a tshirt on, her bare thighs were distracting enough.
She cried again, soft as before and I don’t know if it makes me an asshole, but it felt good holding her. I dropped my head into the crook of her neck, just to surround myself with her. She smelled so good, not like the scent I caught in the elevator, this was even better, this was her. Being with her like this made me realise how much I missed this; it had been years since a woman had let me comfort them. Most of the women I’d interacted with were too scared of me and the Brothers to allow us close to them. Or they liked us a little too much, thinking we were like other MCs and were bitterly disappointed by the quiet lifestyle we all led.
“You’re okay,” I whispered, “You cry all you want to, alright Lori?”
“You do know my name,” she said through her tears and I chuckled.
“Try not to use real names with clients when we’re travelling, baby.”
“You always call your clients baby?”
“No baby, just you.”
She laughed softly and soon her tears stopped and her breathing became steady.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it must have been a while because my gun started to dig painfully in my side. But I didn’t want to move, fearing that any slight movement would shatter this moment.
I put it off as long as I could, until my spine couldn’t take holding the position a moment longer and I shifted. My manoeuvre made Lori lift her head and she watched me as I pulled my gun out of my holster and placed it within reach on the nightstand.
When I settled back into a comfortable position, her bright grey eyes caught mine. Her cheeks (and my shirt) were wet, though she seemed to have stopped crying. She stared at me, she looked with such open vulnerability it made my chest ache a little and stirred something deep within me. In that moment, I would have done anything to take her pain away, shouldered any burden to see her happy.
I lifted my hands to her cheeks, letting my thumbs wipe away the remnants of her tears. She let me, closing her eyes slowly and her lips parted slightly as if she enjoyed my touch, which only led to something else stirring.
My breath started coming in hard, like I’d just been for a run and couldn’t get enough oxygen. God, those lips… I wanted to feel them again. Although this time my thumb wouldn’t be enough; I wanted to know what they felt like on mine.
I tore my hands and eyes away from her, wrapped my arms around her, guiding her gently back to my chest. I had to get a handle on this situation before shit went sideways and I made a move on her again.
“Sy…” she spoke softly, resisting my movements.
Steeling myself I looked at her, my eyes widening as I realised she was nervous. I’d not noticed her being nervous before.
“Can I… you…” she said hesitantly.
“What you want, baby?”
“I don't want you to go,” she said in a rush. “Can’t you stay with me instead of Walk–” she stopped herself and continued, “the others?”
Fuck. This is not good.
“I gotta get some sleep, sugar,” I said gently, letting her down as best I could without straight up rejecting her. Because fuck, I really didn’t want to say no. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t like the idea of her being alone with Walker either. Not that he’d do anything. Well, he wouldn’t force himself on her, but I’d seen him with women before, that man was persuasive.
“Sleep here with me?” she asked.
Oh fuck me.
Her cheeks reddened and she looked away as if she were embarrassed by her request.
God I wanted to say yes. I wanted to wrap myself around her and never let go. But I cleared my throat, swallowing down my urges and said, “My brothers ain’t bad. You’re safe with us. With all of us.”
“Can you just hold me then? Just ‘till I fall asleep?”
I knew I should say no. I knew that, but… Oh, fuck me.
“Scooch on over,” I said.
I was going to hell.
Lori climbed off my lap. I stood up, toed my boots off and reached for my belt buckle. My eyes caught hers and saw her unsure look.
“I can leave ���em on if ya want,”
She turned away as her blush deepened. Then she raised her eyes back to mine.
“Are you wearing underwear?”
I pressed my lips together. “Yeah, I am.”
“Okay then.”
Lori didn’t look away, instead she stared at me, expectantly. I hesitated.
Ah fuck.
Don’t think about sex, don’t think about sex, don’t think about sex.
I bit my lip and slowly dropped my pants and stepped out of them. The damn girl’s eyes never left mine and her look made my heart thunder and I felt a familiar and warm rush of blood.
Jesus, give me strength.
I thought about leaving my shirt on, but then I thought, fuck it, I’d come this far, may as well go the whole hog. I tugged at my shirt and raised my eyebrows. She licked her lips, nodding slowly.
Quick as I could, I pulled my shirt off and lifted the blanket to slide in beside her before I started to harden up. She finally looked away from me and rolled over. I sidled up to her back and my body melded behind hers. It felt so natural, like we’d laid like this a million times.
“You’re going to stay here with me, right? Don't go when I fall asleep?” she asked.
“Alright, sugar,” I said, “Ya twisted my arm.”
“Will you get in trouble?” My eyebrows drew together in confusion. She rolled over until she was facing me. “From Walker,” she clarified.
I smiled reassuringly and tucked her head under my chin. I probably would, not trouble exactly, more like Walker will make it his mission to keep us apart. Even if I did, it’d be worth it. I kissed the top of her head.
“Go to sleep, baby. We got a lot of miles tomorrow.”
“I’ll ride with you again, right?”
“You ride with whoever you want. You just go to sleep, baby. We’re gonna take good care of you alright?”
I felt her nod and I held her close, stroking her hair until her breath became slow and steady.
About an hour later there was a knock on the door. Three triple raps followed by two slow ones indicated it was Marshall.
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my gun and flicked the safety off. I stood beside the door and waited a moment before quickly checking the peephole and moving away again. It was Marshall, so I unlocked the door and stood back.
“’S open,” I said.
Marshall came in walking straight past me. I checked behind him, making sure no one else was going to follow and I shut the door.
“Bloody hell, Sy,” Marshall mumbled. He took in her sleeping form and my state of undress. “You didn’t waste any time.”
“We got a problem?” I asked. I flicked the safety back on and put the gun back beside the bed.
Shaking his head, he went to the bed and looked down at her. He reached out, tucked some loose hair behind her ear and sighed.
“We didn’t fuck, alright?” I grunted.
Marshall crossed his arms across his chest and looked over my lack of clothes again.
“I made a pass at her and she said no.”
Marshall kept staring.
“She wants me to stay the night with her,” I shrugged and shook my head, “Says she feels safe with me. I don’t know.”
Marshall sighed. “That’s good. At least she feels safe with one of us. We’ve got no problem, brother.”
I nodded. Marshall sat at the table pulling his gun out of its holster and resting it on the table. I got back in bed, and she stirred a little, eyes fluttering.
“Shh,” I whispered. “’S only me.”
“Sy,” she mumbled.
She snuggled into my chest, and smiling I waited until she was settled before I laid an arm over her. I was quiet, waiting for her to sleep again then I looked at Marshall. He turned his head, and I felt guilty. I knew he wanted her as much as I did. We all fell for her in our own way as we watched her for the past week.
“Just dumb luck,” I said to him. “Coulda been you she met first.”
“You think she feels safe with you just because she met you first?” Marshall asked. “You hate yourself that much?”
My fist clenched and looked away.
He sniffed and shifted in his chair. “Get some rest, Sy. I’ll wake you when Mike comes.”
“You know I don’t sleep much,” I reminded him.
“When was the last time you slept with a woman in your arms?” Marshall asked.
I looked at him blankly, annoyed that his comment mirrored my own thoughts. I didn’t think I was that easy to read.
“You tryna get a rise outta me?”
“No.” Marshall shook his head. “I’m trying to remind you that it helps.”
I woke at another set of raps on the door. Marshall looked at me and nodded. He checked the door as I had, but unlike Marshall, Mike had a way of being an idiot.
“Let me in Marshall,” he cried, “I’m freezing my nuts off.”
Marshall and I looked at each other, “So help me,” I growled. “If he wakes her up…”
Throwing the door wide, Marshall dragged Mike in by the scruff of the neck. “She’s sleeping you bastard.”
Mike grunted. “Smells like sex in here.”
I snorted. That boy was damn lucky he made us laugh or God knows what we would have done to him by now.
“Shit,” Mike said, his attention drawn to me, “I thought I had a chance. She giggled and everything.”
I snickered and Marshall shook his head. “Go back to sleep, Sy,” Marshall said as he left the room. “Good night.”
“Night,” I said.
Mike locked the door behind him and took up his seat, laying his gun on the table like we all had. She stirred at the noise and rolled over, shimmying back until we were spooning. Her mass of hair was in my face, and I smoothed it away before laying my head on the pillow.
“Does she know?” Mike asked, blessedly keeping his voice low. “About what we agreed?”
“No.”
“Think we should tell her?”
“Why? We said she’d be free to choose and that we wouldn’t let it come between us.”
Mike grumbled. “You didn’t give the rest of us much of a chance to make our case.”
I grunted. He had a point, but I’d never tell the little shit that. “I ain’t stoppin’ you from tryin’.”
“Sure, Sy,” Mike said petulantly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t kill me.”
I chuffed. “You’re my brother, Mike. I wouldn’t kill ya.” He grinned and I continued. “I’d beat the shit outta ya, but I wouldn’t kill ya.”
“Dick,” Mike said.
“Nothing happened, alright? She’s just scared. Now, shut up and lemme sleep will ya?” I closed my eyes and Mike was thankfully silent. But I had to admit, sleep didn’t come as easy this time.
His objections had me thinking things I didn’t want to think, and I struggled shutting off my mind. Not all the thoughts were unpleasant and being awake with her in my arms wasn’t like being awake alone. She was so soft, all curves, few hard edges, except where her hip bone jutted slightly out. I liked putting my hand there, slipping my fingers under her a little. Eventually, the rhythm of the breathing was a good enough lullaby to help me doze through Mike’s shift.
When Geralt knocked I was already awake and Mike opened the door, having enough sense to check the peephole at least.
Geralt’s eyes went straight to me, and I heard him hum.
“My thoughts exactly dude,” Mike said.
“Do not presume to know what I think, boy.”
I grinned. Geralt had a way of putting all of us in our place on occasion. Including Walker, remarkably. Geralt nodded at me, removing his knives and pistol from his belt, and laying them on the table. He approached her in a similar way to Marshall, but he didn’t touch her.
“She sleeps like a babe,” he murmured, looking at her curled fists.
“Everyone’s a baby to you, old man,” Mike commented from across the room.
“You’re still here?” Geralt retorted without looking at him. But I could see the small smile on his lips, and I chuckled.
“Fine, I’m out,” Mike pointed at me as he left. “We aren’t done talking about this by the way. We need a new agreement.”
“Mike,” Geralt’s gravelly voice warned. He waited until Mike left before addressing me. “He’s wrong. We don’t need a new agreement.” Geralt walked back to the table, taking his seat with a soft groan. “We never said she could only choose one of us. Only that we agreed her choice wouldn’t come between us.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Thought you were smarter than that.”
Geralt shrugged again. “It would solve a lot of problems.”
“Or create them.” I sighed, resigned, “She hasn’t chosen me. Not yet anyway. Nothin’ happened.”
“Does this,” Geralt waved his hand towards the bed, “feel like nothing, Syverson?”
I grunted. He was right. Having her in my arms like this wasn’t nothing. It felt like everything.
Geralt was quiet for a while, but I could feel the weight of unspoken words in his stare. Eventually it got the best of me.
“Say it.”
“Walker was on the phone tonight…”
“Fuck.”
“There’s a logistics job coming up.”
“Fuck.”
Logistics. Always my job. I knew the fucker would send me away first damn opportunity.
“She doesn’t like him.”
“Is that what you think?” Geralt asked, I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“I think she’s scared of him.”
Geralt grunted, “Not the same thing.”
I had no reply to that.
“Get some sleep,” Geralt said, taking up a position by the window, “I’ll wake you when Walker arrives.”
Birds were waking when Walker made his way into the room. Unlike the others, he strolled in like he owned the place, his ego entering the room only seconds behind his cock.
“You’re still here,” he observed in a tight voice.
“Where you wanna be I suppose?” I replied, my voice as tight as his.
He huffed and shrugged, appearing completely unbothered.
“Was she good?” he asked flippantly.
“Fuck you.”
My voice was louder than I thought it would be and she whimpered, rolling over facing me, and burying her head into my chest. I didn’t bother correcting Walker's assumption. Let him think what he wants.
“Walker,” Geralt said with a hint of warning.
Walker shrugged and took the seat, staring at me with his cold eyes. I knew I’d slept enough for the night, no way was I going to sleep with his ass in the room. Geralt left with a nod in my direction and pained look. He’d stay if he thought it’d help, but we both knew it would only serve to aggravate Walker further.
It took half an hour for the asshole to start talking.
“We got a job,” his voice didn’t hide his smugness. “Logistics.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“I hate to break up this burgeoning relationship…” I scoffed but August continued, “But you’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow, soon as we get her back..”
“For how long?”
“Could be a day or two, could be a week.”
I scowled.
“It’s not personal Syverson. It’s the job.”
“You coulda said no. We have a job.”
He hummed. “I could have,” he admitted, “But the offer was too good, and I only needed to send you. The four of us can take care of her.”
I didn’t say anything. He was right, but it stung.
But as I laid there I formulated a plan. I thought of Geralt’s words; she could choose more than one. My brothers cared for her as much as I did, they would take care of her, and I think she’d be happy with any of them. Maybe if I guided her choice, set her towards Marshall or Geralt, I wouldn’t worry so much on my job.
Plus, it’d piss Walker off real good.
Not bothering to cover my smirk, I settled into the pillows, gently lifting her chin to look at her a bit. God, I wanted to kiss her, wake her softly with my lips on hers, or her neck, or breasts.
If my brothers make her happy, I’ll share her, but I’ll fuck each and every last one up if they hurt her.
#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#captain syverson#syverson fanfiction#captain syverson fanfic#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson x ofc#syverson#syverson x ofc#cpt syverson#captain sy#august walker fanfiction#august walker#august walker fic#august walker x ofc#walter marshall#walter marshall fanfiction#walter marshall x ofc#walter marshall fic#geralt x ofc#geralt of rivia#geralt fanfic#geralt of rivia x ofc#geralt of rivia fanfiction#mike (hellraiser)#mike hellraiser#hellraiser mike#mike hellraiser fic#mike (hellraiser) fic
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perfect
jean x reader
tw & tags: talks of anxiety and body image issues // praise // body worship// established relationship// slight over stimulation // general smutt
18+ MDNI
word count: 800 short n sweet <3
———
you always radiate confidence in any room you walk into, no one would ever know that it is false confidence. you secretly felt deeply insecure.
your insecurities surrounded your body mostly, you often felt like your breasts were too small, or your hips too wide, or your stomach too round. you often felt consumed by self deprecating thoughts over the body that you saw in the mirror.
you never wanted jean to find out about the constant battle you were having with your mind and body, so you made sure to never bring it up. you never realized how well jean really knew you, he could see it in your eyes when you passed a mirror, or when your eating habits became inconsistent. jean knew that you struggled with your body image.
jean loved you deeply, but didn’t know how to console you, he knew bringing it up would only make things worse for you.
jean wishes that you could see yourself the way he sees you. there is not a single thing jean would ever want to alter on your body, he hates the fact that you can’t see what he does, that’s why he always takes extra good care of you, especially in vulnerable moments during sex.
in intimate moments like this, jean likes to take his sweet time, placing both hands on your waist as he kisses down your stomach all the way down to your hips and thighs, “mmm.. so perfect, like you were made just for me. so, so perfect…” he loved worshiping your body, nestling his head between your thighs as you rolled your hips forward, forgetting about all of your insecurities when his heavenly lips sucked on your clit.
you suddenly felt your embarrassment rise to the surface once again, when jean reached up to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. you always over-thought moments like this, feeling insecure about the size of your breast and desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice that one was slightly bigger than the other. anxiety began to bloom in your chest, as your breaths became shorter.
jean noticed the distant look in your eyes when he lifted his head from your soaking cunt, “you still with me baby? want me to stop?”
you almost wanted to cry seeing how deeply jean cared, just by the look in his eyes.
“no please don’t stop” you whispered.
you desperately needed to feel his touch, it was the only thing that could ground you back into reality.
jean knew where your mind went, he decided that you needed extra care tonight.
jean mounted himself on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body pulling the two of you together in a deep embrace. your lips interlocked in a slow delicate kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck. the kiss grew more and more passionate as you felt your hips begin to buck against him in search of his cock.
jean broke the kiss, placing his forehead on yours, “do you want me to keep going, pretty girl?”
“god fuck, jean please fuck me” you said breathlessly.
jean didn’t hesitate, instantly sheathing himself into your warm cunt.
you both let out a deep moan when he released you from his embrace.
jean immediately moved his mouth to suck on your nipple, and reached one hand down to work circles on your clit as he pounded your pussy into oblivion.
you screamed from all of the stimulation, all thoughts left your mind. you could only concentrate on the pleasure jean was providing you.
you worked your fingers through his hair as his mouth moved to give your other nipple attention.
you chanted jean’s name over and over like your own personal mantra. “mmm that’s it my pretty girl, you're doing so good” he said, lifting his head to read your face as he tapped your g-spot with his cock, still rubbing circles on your swollen clit.
heat flooded your whole body, while tears began to prick your eyes.
jean knew you were close, “it’s okay, cum on my cock baby.” almost as if your body was waiting for those exact words, your pussy began to pulse tightly around jeans cock. you wailed as jean continued to pump inside your now overstimulated cunt. “ah good girl… good fucking girl” he said as he picked up his pace feeling his own orgasm brimming.
tears finally fell down your cheek as jean filled you with his warm cum.
you both groaned as jean pulled out of you.
jean’s soft gaze met yours, “i wish you knew how perfect you really are, i love you so much.” he said as he wiped the tears from your face, placing a kiss over the spots where the tears had fallen.
———
masterlist
ps if your having body image issues your not alone, i see you. & so does jean hehehe
#aot drabbles#attack on titan fanfiction#jean kirschtein fluff#jean kirstein fluff#jean kirstein headcanons#jean kirschtein headcanons#jean kirstein x you#jean kirstein#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirschtein fanfiction#jean kirschstein#jean kirstein x reader smut#jean kirstein smut#aot fluff#aot x you#aot x reader smut#aot headcanons
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OMGGGG HEY AGAIN <333 it’s 🪷 anon! i was thinking, michael would definitely be a submissive top. like id LOVE to have him on top of me, but i could definitely see us riding him and he’s a moaning mess. like for example!
“mmh! y-you’re filling me so well michael, aren’t you? you’re doing amazing d-darling. you wanna cum don’t you? pretty boy. want me to go faster?”
“y-yes! hah please… please please please j-just go faster, i need to cum. please love, let me cum inside you, p-please.”
anyways just seems absolutely amazing <3 -🪷 anon
YESS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I WANNA RIDE MICHAEL UNTIL THE SUN COMES UP.
he had control in the beginning too, but when your hold clamped down so perfectly around him right in the middle of your fuck, he folded, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming sloppy as his brain leaks out of him, reducing himself to nothing more than a stupid dildo for you to bounce on as you flip him over and mount him.
“that’s it, michael, you feel so good inside of me,” you mumble, rolling your hips in circles that make him drool. “i just love your cock,”
god, the way those dirty words sound on your lips…
“f-faster—hnn!” he whimpers.
“aww, need more, pretty boy? hm?” you speed up your movements, beginning to bounce up and down on his dick. “yeah? is that any better?”
he’s nodding, biting his lip hard as you put on a show for him, rubbing one hand over his chest in seductive circles while the other drags up your torso, squeezing at your chest and peaking your nipples between your fingertips.
“you look so pretty under me, michael.” you comment, “yeah, you’re my good boy… filling me up so well!”
“‘m—i-i’m good,” he mumbles dumbly, drool dribbling down his chin as he loses control over his mouth. “g-good—i—“
“that’s right, good boy,” you purr, feeling michael twitch inside of you. “aww, do you like it when i praise you?”
he’s wheezing. “l-love it… d-don’t stop… please…”
“yeah? does somebody need to cum?” you tilt your head patronizingly. “am i making you feel too good?”
“‘s so good… ngh! s-so good—ahh-ah... please, pl- mm, fuck!”
you lean back on your elbows, putting your pussy on display so michael can see the way you are swallowing his red member whole.
“oh, shit,” he chokes, swallowing his pride as he braces for the impact of his orgasm. “b-baby, please… i-i’m g-gonna…”
you nod, rubbing his thighs with a faux pout, egging his orgasm closer and closer… drawing it out of his tip with such expertise…
michael snaps. he jolts you into the air with his hips, abs contracting as his body shakes, filling you up to the brim with his milky cum.
“o-oh-!” you gasp, watching tear tracks spill down michael’s cheeks.
you lean over him as he spurts inside of you, bringing your palms to his cheeks and wiping up the tears with your thumbs.
“shh, shhh… don’t cry, pretty boy, i’m right here for you.”
“ngh..” he sobs, “y-you feel so good!”
you kiss his lips, softly, trying to help soothe him as he becomes overstimulated from all of the pleasure. you bounce shallowly on him, working him through his orgasm.
“b-baby,” he gasps, “please get off—hurts!”
“aww,” you coo, continuing to hold his face in your hands as you climb off of his softening cock, letting his cum drip as you crawl up the bed and hold michael’s head against your tummy. “don’t worry, baby, i got you… calm down…”
“mmm,” he whimpers, “l-love you…”
“i love you, too,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his hair as he cries into your skin.
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(I'm from LATAM, sorry 4 my bad english).
Hi<3 I started reading some of yours writings about Yandere Tamaki and I fall in love with them.
They way u describe his emotions and "ours" emotions trough the history is so amazing aaaaa <33
I really like the concept of Y!Tamaki, but i never see it including a "mommy kink" kdjfksjflsje 😔👊 so i was wondering if u can do something with those ideas <33
Thanks in advance aaa<3
[ good boy - amajiki tamaki ]
CW: hybrids, sub/dom dynamics, aftercare, a/b/o dynamics, mommy kink, slapping, cunnilingus, mating press, breeding kink, mentions of murder and blood, omega tamaki, alpha reader, afab reader, yandere
AN: thank you so much!!! as always, enjoy the fic and mind the tags :) i combined a few other asks for this
Being a bunny hybrid had its perks. For one, an innocent face with floppy ears and a perky cotton tail kept him out of a hell of a lot of trouble. No high was better than the adrenaline rush of killing a rival for Tamaki. Protecting your honor, protecting your safety, protecting the love you had for him. Like your knight in shining armor, he came slinking back to you after the kill, tail twitching with anticipation for his return to you.
Watching you rest peacefully in his nest made his heart leap from his chest. Ah, but he had to clean himself before he could curl up with you. His precious kit, how he loved to be a good boy for you. After his shower, Tamaki dashed into the nest with you, pressing kisses to your face gently to wake you up.
His pre-heat had come not only a few days ago, causing his spike in aggression towards others and forcing him to lash out on the poor soul that dared to flirt with his Alpha on their date. Your nose sniffed out his scent, awakening you, feeling your hybrid thump his leg in the nest.
“Oh, is my pretty little bunny finally in heat?” you mused, stroking the sweet spot on the back of his neck teasingly. “Does someone need mommy to take care of them?”
Nodding earnestly, Tamaki stripped himself of his clothes, already feeling the sweltering heat burning his core from within. His little cocklet twitched impatiently, standing tall against his toned stomach.
Crooning softly, you took him in your hand and began to stroke, relishing in the way he whimpered ‘mommy’ so beautifully for you.
“Such a good boy, Maki.” you praised, gasping gently as he took a nipple into his mouth, whining as he sucked fervently. “Mommy’s good boy.”
You intended to make him cum at least once before letting him breed you. The poor horny thing had so much stamina to give. And you wanted him to use it all out on yourself. Continuing to stroke his cock, you rubbed his nipples roughly, pinching and tugging at the pinky flesh. Bucking his hips into your hand, Tamaki switched nipples and leaned into your touch, feeling himself coming undone in just a few short minutes.
“Oh? Does my little boy want to cum? You'll have to ask nicely, bunny.”
Gasping and writhing under your steady pace, Tamaki clung to your wrist with both his hands.
“Please, mommy, can I come? I’ve been good, I've been good, please. Please!” the hybrid cried out, not being able to hold back much longer.
Shushing him gently, you picked up your pace and rubbed your thumb over his tip gently.
“Of course, you've been a good slut today. Go ahead and come. Give me what's mine.”
Leaning down, you took all of him into your mouth as he came with a scream, gripping your hair in bunched fists. You rode out his orgasm, swallowing every last drop of his seed.
“Did you enjoy that, sweet pea?”
Panting and heaving, Tamaki nodded while shaking from the afterglow of his high.
“C’mon now, show mommy some love too. You'll need to prep me if you want to breed me, bunny.”
Nimble fingers gripped your thighs with a renewed vitality, practically ripping them apart as he dove his face straight to your dripping hole. Yours found their way into his hair as you pulled his face back and slapped it.
“Where are your manners, boy?” you chided, rubbing his now reddened cheek soothingly. “Don't make me punish you. Be gentle with mommy. I’m not your toy; you are my bitch. Understand?”
Apologizes flooded from his lips in the forms of whines as he nuzzled the hand, stroking his face. Reminding of what a good boy he was, you spread your legs for him and guided his head to your sopping cunt.
“Thank you for the meal, mommy.” he gasped out, driving his nose to your clit and tongue to your hole. Hands tangled in his hair while you pushed your hips into his face, relishing in the muffled whines. What a desperate boy he was. His technique was fast and sloppy, like he was afraid his snack would be snatched from him at any moment.
Praises and moans of his name flowed from your lips as you tugged on his soft locks, admiring the way Tamaki took suffocation by your pussy like a champ.
“That’s enough, Maki, ” you sighed, pulling his head away from your twitching lips. His desperate whines, albeit adorable, made you impatient. “Stop pouting. You'll be able to have another taste later.”
Positioning yourself, you got face down and ass up, presenting yourself to your near-feral omega.
“Mount me, bunny. Make sure to breed mommy well and give her a nice litter.”
Not having to be told twice, Tamaki quickly sheathed himself inside you, bottoming out in one stroke. Hips pistoned out of you at a fast pace as you gripped the nesting blankets for purchase. Gasping and crying out, your bunny let you know no relief as he began to rub small, right circles on your clit.
You wanted to chastise him for being too rough; mommy was supposed to be in charge! The pleasure was too intense, too much for you to handle as you were reduced to a puddle under your mate’s ministrations. Ah well. You could spank him later for his overzealousness.
Whining and sobbing, Tamaki kept a tight grip on your hips while slamming into you, letting his heat take over all else. Tears streamed down his face as he cried out for you, mind filled with nothing except breed, breed, breed. He needed to see you pregnant, swollen, and fat with his kits so that no one dared to believe you were anyone but his. He couldn't wait to fill his nest with your young, keeping you all safe and sound.
Mouth hanging open, Tamaki became nonverbal as he flipped you onto your back, pressing you into a mating press as he finished himself off with a few more strokes. He finished deep inside you, interlacing your hands while the other one continued to knead your clit until you came on his emptied cock.
Sitting in the stillness and the silence for just a moment, the man rested his forehead against yours, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before pulling out. Keeping your cunt upwards, Tamaki sucked your clit gently while fingering the leaking cum back into your now loose hole.
He continued his sucking and fingering until you came again.
“Come, sweetheart, let me cockwarm you while you rest. We’ve got a long week ahead of us.” you cooed, bringing your sweet boy into your arms as you crooned, stroking his hair and ears as he entered you again, plugging his cum deep within your womb.
Praises and sweet nothings filled his ears as he drifted off to sleep, savoring the aftercare you lavished him in. He really was your good boy, after all.
#yandere tamaki amajiki#tamaki x reader#tamaki amajiki x reader#tamaki amajiki#yandere tamaki amajiki x reader#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha#bnha#yandere x reader#yandere
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Aggressive Affirmation
My first Elorcan fic, y'all. And it's smut.
It wasn't supposed to be smutty, but things escalated.
I'm not sorry.
Lorcan is sick and tired of Elide not acknowledging the incredible things that she has done. She doesn't give herself enough credit, doesn't see what she has to offer the home she hopes to rebuild. Lorcan encourages her to admit that she is intelligent, brave, and strong.
Read on AO3
Lorcan hadn’t even attempted to hide his wide grin when Elide had agreed to ride with him. It still surprised him that he could feel so carefree with her, so comfortable with letting his emotions dance across his features. But it was only for her. She had torn down every wall, crashed through every locked door, even faced death to earn his vulnerability. And he would pay it back in spades.
The midnight-haired beauty had rolled her eyes, still seemingly unaware of how her proximity to him could spark such an exuberant reaction. Lorcan found it difficult to understand how she didn’t presume she was the most incredible thing to have happened in the many years of his life, a strong woman in possession of near-bottomless bravery, fierce intelligence, and unbreakable dedication to the people and land she loved.
The journey would not be the longest they had together, though it would most certainly be the safest. Lorcan allowed himself to relax, as much as he could, and enjoy the feeling of the woman wrapped in his arms.
His wife.
The last time they had ridden like this he had been at death’s door, Elide urging the mount onward toward the keep at Anielle. What a relief it was to be with her now – to wrap his arms around her. As if to remind himself of what she felt like, his hand widened across her stomach, fingers stretching to feel as much of her as he could. Lorcan was pleased to find that her ribs were no longer so present below the tunic she wore, their time in Orynth slowly erasing the effects of months – perhaps years – of scarce food and near constant fear.
Soft strands, black as his own, brushed over his hands as he held Elide tighter against him. She turned her head, tilting her chin up to cast him a sidelong glance.
“What are you doing?” Her question was reflected in those fathomless eyes that he swore he could drown in. Lorcan grinned, dipping his chin to brush his lips over her forehead.
“Just thinking, wife,” he answered. “Of the last time we were on a horse like this, after you rode out into hell even when the mightiest of soldiers were retreating into that keep.” Elide’s lashes lowered as she looked away, as she often did when confronted with her own strength. “And how you thought up the plan that would defeat Erawan. And how you ran him through to keep him immobile so Yrene could finish him off.”
Silence was his only answer.
Lorcan sighed but let the quiet persist. His thumb traced back and forth over her abdomen, a motion that was meant to be soothing to her, but seemed to bring him comfort, as well. A spring breeze whispered past them, carrying the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves on the trees lining the road. And echoing louder than any of the sounds of their journey was his wife’s silence.
“Elide.”
She didn’t answer, but she turned her head again and traced her fingers over his forearm.
“What’s wrong?” he prodded.
“Nothing,” she murmured, even as he felt her tense against his chest.
“You lie,” Lorcan crooned. “I know you better than I used to, Elide. You may be the cunning liar that thawed my cold heart, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it go. Tell me what’s bothering you.” His wife heaved a sigh, sagging into him.
“I am… anxious. About returning to Perranth,” she mumbled, turning her face forward again. His brows furrowed, lips pursing in confusion. Returning home, finding her queen, and rebuilding the city had been her aim as long as he’d known her – likely far longer.
“Tell me why.”
And just like that her back was straight again, shoulders tense, the small space between their bodies like a chasm. Lorcan’s eyes narrowed.
“Elide.”
Still she didn’t answer.
And judging from her reaction to his praise moments before, knowing her, Lorcan had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why she was hesitant. It grated against him, how little she thought of herself – how she refused to acknowledge her many feats of bravery and strength.
A snarl rumbled through his chest as he swung down from the saddle. He grabbed Elide before she had the chance to give a startled yelp and tossed her, gently, over his shoulder.
“Lorcan! What in the gods names are you doing?!” she shrieked. Ignoring her protest, he turned to their travel companions and dipped his chin.
“We’ll catch up,” he grumbled with a scowl before stalking off toward the tree line. This nonsense needed to end, sooner rather than later.
“Lorcan Lochan, you put me down this instant!”
His lips ticked up at his new surname, and he was glad she couldn’t see his amusement. He found a small clearing, a boulder jutting out of the grass. Schooling his features, he carried the still-grumbling woman to the rock, pulling her back over his shoulder and plopping her gently atop it.
“Why?” he demanded, eyes boring into her midnight pools that darkened with confusion. Lorcan released a frustrated sigh. “Why don’t you see your own worth, Elide?” He studied her with a frown as her eyes widened and her lips parted in a gasp.
“Lorcan?” she breathed. He ran a hand through hair that had become unruly in his less-than-graceful prowl into the woods. Then, taking a deep breath, he cupped her cheeks, allowing callused thumbs to graze over her high cheekbones.
“Do you think you’re strong, Elide?” Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at him, uncertainty painted across her pale features. Her answer, however, came quickly and assuredly – proof to the male that her belief was deep and unyielding.
“No.”
Lorcan flinched.
He lowered his gaze, doing all in his power to keep his breathing even. It was all he could do not to pace across the clearing in anger and frustration. “Elide-“
“I’m a cripple, Lorcan.” Her voice trembled slightly, and his eyes shot back to hers. They were hard. Uncompromising. As if her perceived weakness was just an unfortunate truth that she had come to terms with. Gods, it enraged him so – that she had practically been raised to believe that she had such little value. “I can barely walk, much less fight. I was a prisoner in my own home. For years. And after that I was little more than a slave. For ten years I was only allowed to live because someone else willed it. And in those ten years I did nothing for Perranth, for Terrasen. And what have I to offer now?” Lorcan cursed the shimmer of silver in her lashes as she pulled his hands away from her face and lowered her chin.
“I can’t even read, Lorcan,” she whispered wetly, her delicate hands clutching his. With a growl he pulled his hands away, fisting them in his hair as he, indeed, began stalking back and forth across the clearing. His ire was a living thing, writhing under his skin. What he would give to have her uncle in front of him now, so Lorcan could tear him apart like he deserved.
“Are you angry with me?”
The roaring in his head ceased in an instant, the timid question ringing clear as a bell through the heat boiling in his blood. He practically ran back to her, grabbing her face again.
“I’m not angry with you, love. Never. But it is absolutely infuriating that you believe it. That you have been made to believe it” Lorcan leaned pressed his forehead against hers. “You, Elide Lochan, are one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. I have fought beside fae and humans, men and women, the legendary and the ordinary. You are brave and strong and so incredibly clever.”
The lithe woman in his grasp opened her mouth to argue, but he pushed her chin back up.
“It…” He swallowed, realizing the vulnerability he was about to show. “It hurts me, Elide. When you just dismiss all the amazing things you’ve done. When you speak as if you have nothing to offer your queen, your home. When I found you, you were walking to Terrasen. And I have no doubt you would have made it. You picked up an axe against the Ilken. You rode out into the hell of Anielle in the face of certain death. You concocted the plan that defeated Erawan. Someone who is weak would not have done any of those things.”
Elide’s eyes bore into his, wide and shimmering. He leaned away, trailing his hands down her arms until he could link their fingers. Lorcan didn’t dare break that gaze, didn’t want to.
“Please. Please, try to acknowledge that. For me.”
“Well that’s not fair,” she laughed, tilting her head back. “Not when you put it that way.”
“I never said I would fight fair, wife,” Lorcan chuckled, then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss, moaning when she immediately opened up to him. He explored her with his tongue – he would never get tired of her mouth on his.
Elide pulled back, breathing ragged. “We should probably get back,” she sighed. “They probably think we’re doing any number of questionable things.”
His large hands found her hips and tugged her to him, earning a startled giggle. “Well I would hate for them to be wrong.” He kissed her again, sliding his fingers below the band of her breeches. She gasped against his lips, and he snickered in response.
“Lorcan,” she hissed as his lips moved to her jaw, planting kisses up the sharp line. A murmured ‘mmmm’ was his only response as his fingers deftly unknotted the ties to her pants. “Lorcan, people will talk!”
“Let them talk.” His voice was like silk against the shell of her ear. “There is nothing wrong with a male wanting to pleasure his wife.” Elide’s hands fisted his hair, and he slid a hand between her legs to dip a finger into her. He felt her soft cry vibrate against his lips at her throat as his finger slid further, finding heat and wetness. “It would seem that your protests aren’t entirely heartfelt, Elide,” he purred against her neck, inserting a second finger.
“Oh Gods!” she panted. With a growl, he lifted his head and crushed his mouth over hers – a possessive, demanding kiss. He pistoned his fingers inside her, bringing the heels of his palm to rub against that sensitive bud. She mewled against his lips, and he pumped his fingers deeper as he swallowed every gasp and moan that lifted from her throat. Lorcan pulled back, watching Elide’s delicate flushed features lift and scrunch, reacting to the pleasure he was giving her. He wrapped his arm around her, supporting the small of her back with a hand that nearly spread the entire width of her body. When he brushed his callused thumb over that bundle of nerves, he felt her body tremor against him.
“How do you feel, wife?” he snickered, fingers never faltering. Her breathing became increasingly erratic, those little noises growing more frantic.
“Godsdammit,” she cried. He plunged his fingers as deep as they could go and held them there, then flicked his thumb across her again. Her hips bucked as she howled.
“If you want to cum, you will do as I say,” Lorcan growled, a feral grin spreading his lips. “Do you want to cum, Elide?” He wiggled his fingers inside her for emphasis.
“Yes! Gods, Lorcan,” she groaned. He started pumping inside her again, slowly and deliberately. He leaned in so his lips brushed right under her ear.
“Tell me that you are brave, Elide,” he crooned, continuing his ministrations.
“Wh-what?” Elide panted, pleasure and arousal clouding her comprehension of his request. He flicked his thumb over her again, her body convulsing.
“Tell. Me,” he demanded. He could feel her body shuddering around him, and he kept his rhythm slow and steady, drawing out her pleasure and forcing her to wait for her release.
“I- I’m brave!” Her voice cracked as her breath sawed in and out of her. “Lorcan!”
“Tell me you’re intelligent,” he murmured, pace increasing ever so slightly. Elide moaned, a guttural sound from her chest.
“I’m intelligent! Gods, please Lorcan,” she begged. Her fingers clung desperately to his shoulders, and he felt her trembling as she rode his hand.
“Tell me that you are strong, Elide.” His mouth dipped to the soft, sensitive skin below her ear, suckling there as he curled his fingers inside her. “Say it, love.”
“I- I… I am strong!” she gasped. Satisfaction rumbled through his chest. Her frantic pants surrounded him as he unleashed himself, long fingers pumping and thumb grinding into her most sensitive spot.
“Yes, you are. Now cum for me,” Lorcan groaned against her before lifting his head, watching his wife as she rode his fingers. A reverent smile graced his features as she finally found her release with a hoarse scream. Pulling her panting form against him he tucked her head under his chin, a hand stroking through her hair and over her back while he pulled his other hand away from between her thighs. “You are strong. You are beautiful. Perranth is lucky to have such a woman to lead them, and the world is fortunate that you saw fit to help save it. Never forget that.” He pressed his lips to her hair as he listened to her breathing return to normal.
“I love you, Lorcan Lochan.” Elide’s contented sigh vibrated against his chest, dainty fingers tracing soft paths over his stomach. How long had he lived, never knowing that happiness like this could exist for him?
“I love hearing that name. Knowing it’s mine.” Lorcan pushed her shoulders, gently pulling them apart so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Elida Lochan.” Reaching down, he tightened the laces to her breeches. He knew the rest of the ride probably wouldn’t be the most comfortable, and he cursed inwardly that he had been so impatient that he hadn’t at least thought that it would be better to just take them off. “We’ll find an inn tonight. Get you a proper bath. Get these clothes washed.”
A dusting of pink colored her cheeks, realization of why she would need those things heating her face. Lorcan chuckled and stood, letting a hand graze her jaw and tuck a lock of onyx silk behind her ear. “Come, wife,” he declared as he swept her up in his arms, cradling Elide against him as he started walking toward the road. She giggled, winding her arms around his neck and craning to plant a kiss on his cheek. Lorcan smiled down at her, grateful for the path that had led him to her. Grateful that their futures were forever intertwined.
“Let’s get you home, Lady of Perranth.”
Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430
*NOTE* I used the tag list that I have used for all my other fanfic posts, but those have all been ACOTAR. If you would like to not be tagged in Throne of Glass or From Blood and Ash posts, please let me know. Otherwise, I will continue to use the same tag list for all of my fanfic posts!
#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#elorcan#Elorcan fanfiction#Elorcan smut#lorcan salvaterre#elide x lorcan#elide lochan#ao3#ao3fic#ao3 fanfic#fanfiction
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Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2
Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.
Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping
This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!
Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️
Chapter 2:
You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.
“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.
You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.
You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.
“Open it” you hear faintly.
The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.
The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.
“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.
Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.
“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.
“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.
“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.
“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.
The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.
Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.
“What the hell is this?” You tremble.
“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.
“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.
“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.
Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.
“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.
Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.
“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.
You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.
“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.
“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.
“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.
“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.
“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.
“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.
You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.
“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.
You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.
“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.
Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.
“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”
You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.
“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”
Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.
“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.
“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.
“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.
He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.
“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.
You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.
“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.
He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.
“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”
“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.
You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.
“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”
You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.
“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.
Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.
“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.
“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.
“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.
You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?
His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.
“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.
Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen
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fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]
⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot
𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)
𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones
𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)
𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series...
⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop (thank you dearie~)
⤜ beta’d by ↠ @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)
⤜ le playlist ↠
Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs.
You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without.
But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder.
An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe.
“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side.
The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it.
Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you.
She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”
Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?”
“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!”
Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.
Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”
You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions.
Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”
Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you.
“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”
A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food.
Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing…”
You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”
You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros.
“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”
Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. “What makes you think so?” you ask instead.
“Well, that’s what he told me.”
Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony.
He’s here.
Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”
Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t.
“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”
Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer.
“I think I do,” she smiles.
Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him.
“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”
Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”
“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long.
Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings.
Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”
Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you.
No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.
Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind.
“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you.
Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”
He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”
Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you.
It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history.
Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting.
Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”
Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you.
Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment.
It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”
You pause. “Brave?”
Kyon smiles and nods.
Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl.
You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”
“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”
A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well.
But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.
“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug.
“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”
“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”
Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.
He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath.
You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity.
Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.
“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”
A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”
Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument.
“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”
She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?”
Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”
She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.”
A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation.
“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.”
With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you.
With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them.
The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance.
Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.
Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre.
It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same.
“Miss (L/N).”
Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?
Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks.
You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there?
Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.
A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes.
Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”
“You know I miss you too,” he replies.
You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”
He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”
Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply.
“Do you like the dress?”
“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.”
Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky.
“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek.
But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”
You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset.
You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”
Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”
Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore.
Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”
Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now.
“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”
He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”
Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray.
“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”
Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees.
“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter.
Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain.
Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in.
Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow.
“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”
“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”
He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”
He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”
“Not even your sister?”
You shake your head.
“Mother?”
Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.”
Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”
Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him.
“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh.
His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.
“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird.
Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end.
Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”
He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to get in with you.”
“So, get in.”
You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his-
Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable.
Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you.
Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap.
Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well.
“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.”
You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together.
“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week.
Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered.
Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters.
This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud.
His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?
“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”
Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.
Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans.
Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.”
“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.”
A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now.
Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says.
You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my… The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it.
As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.”
Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind.
Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks.
Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”
Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-
“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”
“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs.
Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud.
Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”
You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no.
“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.”
His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable.
Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him.
“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks.
As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.
A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck.
Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him.
He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”
You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline.
Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.
“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.”
A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I am?”
There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him.
Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?”
“Don’t I?”
A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-
He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.
Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought.
Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes.
“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.
The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in.
“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.
Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”
“You aren’t wet enough.”
“Then, change that.”
The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place.
A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.”
Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you.
You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence.
“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.”
A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck.
Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself.
“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.”
Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow.
His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,” you tease, tossing him a playful look.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks.
“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.
Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”
That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit.
“Again.”
Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl.
Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him.
His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans.
The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good.
The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him.
“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground.
Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs.
If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans.
The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build.
“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again.
But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”
You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock.
“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”
The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion.
Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break.
“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him.
Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”
“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs.
Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to.
He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube.
You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for.
A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings.
He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts.
“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly.
“Mhm,” you mewl.
Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine.
Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it.
He sobs a moan.
You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you.
His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure.
What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head.
“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”
You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again.
Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?”
Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-
A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name.
“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”
He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating.
Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”
He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it.
Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses?
His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered.
“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”
You’re my goddess.
The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done.
You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him.
You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”
Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on.
“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs.
You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”
He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”
I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive.
Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him.
Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you.
Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask.
He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-
“Fuck!”
The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.
Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.
Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock.
But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it.
Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only.
“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts.
You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”
The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you.
“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal.
Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach.
“Ask!”
“Please?”
A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him.
“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”
“Again.”
“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”
He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies.
“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”
His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well.
“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”
Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case.
Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin.
Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?
“I thought I told you to trust me?”
“I do.”
He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count.
“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.”
Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like.
He pauses, body freezing beneath you.
Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder.
Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you.
“Do you want me to come back?”
Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”
“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout.
“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”
“That’s never been a secret.”
“Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”
He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours.
“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze.
Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain.
Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”
Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”
You raise a brow. See?
“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”
Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his.
You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second.
“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”
Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too.
He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”
“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him.
Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well.
He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”
Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.
He nods.
With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”
He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head.
“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles.
You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.”
Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.”
“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.”
Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body.
Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to.
“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”
“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply.
It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”
Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask?
Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from.
“(Y/N)!”
You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain.
Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden.
Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer.
“Miss (L/N)!”
Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.
All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”
His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next.
“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”
Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering.
“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear.
Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”
He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”
You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like.
“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”
Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”
The wedding? Does that mean?
“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”
One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now.
Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile.
“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”
He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”
Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook.
“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.”
Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.”
You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing.
However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice.
This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply.
A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”
You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”
Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him.
“Are you happy?”
You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?
“Are you?”
He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”
“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”
“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”
It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him.
Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.”
Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles.
You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way.
He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.”
You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry.
With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”
“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply.
The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling.
Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies.
note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.
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10th April >> Mass Readings (Except USA)
Palm Sunday
(Liturgical Colour: Red)
(This gospel is read at the procession with palms before Mass):
Gospel
Luke 19:28-40
Blessings on him who comes in the name of the Lord.
Jesus went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he drew near to Bethphage and Bethany, at the mount that is called Olivet, he sent two disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village opposite, where on entering you will find a colt tied, on which no one has ever yet sat; untie it and bring it here. If any one asks you, “Why are you untying it?” you shall say this, “The Lord has need of it.”’ So those who were sent went away and found it as he had told them. And as they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, ‘Why are you untying the colt?’ And they said, ‘The Lord has need of it.’ And they brought it to Jesus, and throwing their garments on the colt they set Jesus upon it. And as he rode along, they spread their garments on the road. As he was drawing near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying,
‘Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!’
And some of the Pharisees in the multitude said to him, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.’
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
(The following are the readings at the Mass itself):
First Reading
Isaiah 50:4-7
I did not cover my face against insult: I know I shall not be shamed.
The Lord has given me a disciple’s tongue. So that I may know how to reply to the wearied he provides me with speech. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord has opened my ear.
For my part, I made no resistance, neither did I turn away. I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.
The Lord comes to my help, so that I am untouched by the insults. So, too, I set my face like flint; I know I shall not be shamed.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 21(22):8-9,17-20,23-24
R/ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
All who see me deride me. They curl their lips, they toss their heads. ‘He trusted in the Lord, let him save him; let him release him if this is his friend.’
R/ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Many dogs have surrounded me, a band of the wicked beset me. They tear holes in my hands and my feet I can count every one of my bones.
R/ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
They divide my clothing among them. They cast lots for my robe. O Lord, do not leave me alone, my strength, make haste to help me!
R/ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I will tell of your name to my brethren and praise you where they are assembled. ‘You who fear the Lord give him praise; all sons of Jacob, give him glory. Revere him, Israel’s sons.
R/ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Second Reading
Philippians 2:6-11
Christ humbled himself but God raised him high.
His state was divine, yet Christ Jesus did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave and became as men are; and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross. But God raised him high and gave him the name which is above all other names so that all beings in the heavens, on earth and in the underworld, should bend the knee at the name of Jesus and that every tongue should acclaim Jesus Christ as Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Gospel Acclamation
Philippians 2:8-9
Praise to you, O Christ, king of eternal glory! Christ was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross. But God raised him high and gave him the name which is above all names. Praise to you, O Christ, king of eternal glory!
Either:
Gospel
Luke 22:14-23:56
The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Luke.
Key: N. Narrator. ✠ Jesus. O. Other single speaker. C. Crowd, or more than one speaker.
N. When the hour came, Jesus took his place at table, and the apostles with him. And he said to them, ✠ I have longed to eat this passover with you before I suffer; because, I tell you, I shall not eat it again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God. N. Then, taking a cup, he gave thanks and said, ✠ Take this and share it among you, because from now on, I tell you, I shall not drink wine until the kingdom of God comes. N. Then he took some bread, and when he had given thanks, broke it and gave it to them, saying, ✠ This is my body which will be given for you; do this as a memorial of me. N. He did the same with the cup after supper, and said, ✠ This cup is the new covenant in my blood which will be poured out for you. And yet, here with me on the table is the hand of the man who betrays me. The Son of Man does indeed go to his fate even as it has been decreed, but alas for that man by whom he is betrayed! N. And they began to ask one another which of them it could be who was to do this thing. A dispute arose also between them about which should be reckoned the greatest, but he said to them, ✠ Among pagans it is the kings who lord it over them, and those who have authority over them are given the title Benefactor. This must not happen with you. No; the greatest among you must behave as if he were the youngest, the leader as if he were the one who serves. For who is the greater: the one at table or the one who serves? The one at table, surely? Yet here am I among you as one who serves! You are the men who have stood by me faithfully in my trials; and now I confer a kingdom on you, just as my Father conferred one on me: you will eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and you will sit on thrones to judge the twelve tribes of Israel. Simon, Simon! Satan, you must know, has got his wish to sift you all like wheat; but I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail, and once you have recovered, you in your turn must strengthen your brothers. N. He answered, O. Lord, I would be ready to go to prison with you, and to death. N. Jesus replied, ✠ I tell you, Peter, by the time the cock crows today you will have denied three times that you know me. N. He said to them, ✠ When I sent you out without purse or haversack or sandals, were you short of anything? N. They answered, C. No. N. He said to them, ✠ But now if you have a purse, take it; if you have a haversack, do the same; if you have no sword, sell your cloak and buy one, because I tell you these words of scripture have to be fulfilled in me: He let himself be taken for a criminal. Yes, what scripture says about me is even now reaching its fulfilment. N. They said, C. Lord, there are two swords here now. N. He said to them, ✠ That is enough! N. He then left to make his way as usual to the Mount of Olives, with the disciples following. When they reached the place he said to them, ✠ Pray not to be put to the test. N. Then he withdrew from them, about a stone’s throw away, and knelt down and prayed, saying, ✠ Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me. Nevertheless, let your will be done, not mine. N. Then an angel appeared to him, coming from heaven to give him strength. In his anguish he prayed even more earnestly, and his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood. When he rose from prayer he went to the disciples and found them sleeping for sheer grief. He said to them, ✠ Why are you asleep? Get up and pray not to be put to the test. N. He was still speaking when a number of men appeared, and at the head of them the man called Judas, one of the Twelve, who went up to Jesus to kiss him. Jesus said, ✠ Judas, are you betraying the son of Man with a kiss? N. His followers, seeing what was happening, said, C. Lord, shall we use our swords? N. And one of them struck out at the high priest’s servant, and cut off his right ear. But at this Jesus spoke: ✠ Leave off! That will do! N. And touching the man’s ear he healed him. Then Jesus spoke to the chief priests and captains of the Temple guard and elders who had come for him. He said, ✠ Am I a brigand, that you had to set out with swords and clubs? When I was among you in the Temple day after day you never moved to lay hands on me. But this is your hour; this is the reign of darkness. N. They seized him then and led him away, and they took him to the high priest’s house. Peter followed at a distance. They had lit a fire in the middle of the courtyard and Peter sat down among them, and as he was sitting there by the blaze a servant-girl saw him, peered at him, and said, O. This person was with him too. N. But he denied it. O. Woman, I do not know him. N. Shortly afterwards someone else saw him and said, O. You are another of them. N. But Peter replied, O. I am not, my friend. N. About an hour later another man insisted, saying, O. This fellow was certainly with him. Why, he is a Galilean. N. Peter said, O. My friend, I do not know what you are talking about. N. At that instant, while he was still speaking, the cock crew, and the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter, and Peter remembered what the Lord had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will have disowned me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly. Meanwhile the men who guarded Jesus were mocking and beating him. They blindfolded him and questioned him, saying, C. Play the prophet. Who hit you then? N. And they continued heaping insults on him. When day broke there was a meeting of the elders of the people, attended by the chief priests and scribes. He was brought before their council, and they said to him, C. If you are the Christ, tell us. N. He replied, ✠ If I tell you, you will not believe me, and if I question you, you will not answer. But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the Power of God. N. Then they all said, C. So you are the Son of God then? N. He answered: ✠ It is you who say I am. N. They said, C. What need of witnesses have we now? We have heard it for ourselves from his own lips. N. The whole assembly then rose, and they brought him before Pilate. They began their accusation by saying, C. We found this man inciting our people to revolt, opposing payment of the tribute to Caesar, and claiming to be Christ, a king. N. Pilate put to him this question: O. Are you the king of the Jews? N. He replied, ✠ It is you who say it. N. Pilate then said to the chief priests and the crowd, O. I find no case against this man. N. But they persisted, C. He is inflaming the people with his teaching all over Judaea; it has come all the way from Galilee, where he started, down to here. N. When Pilate heard this, he asked if the man were a Galilean; and finding that he came under Herod’s jurisdiction he passed him over to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. Herod was delighted to see Jesus; he had heard about him and had been wanting for a long time to set eyes on him; moreover, he was hoping to see some miracle worked by him. So he questioned him at some length; but without getting any reply. Meanwhile the chief priests and the scribes were there, violently pressing their accusations. Then Herod, together with his guards, treated him with contempt and made fun of him; he put a rich cloak on him and sent him back to Pilate. And though Herod and Pilate had been enemies before, they were reconciled that same day. Pilate then summoned the chief priests and the leading men and the people. He said, O. You brought this man before me as a political agitator. Now I have gone into the matter myself in your presence and found no case against the man in respect of all the charges you bring against him. Nor has Herod either, since he has sent him back to us. As you can see, the man has done nothing that deserves death, So I shall have him flogged and then let him go. N. But as one man they howled, C. Away with him! Give us Barabbas! N. (This man had been thrown into prison for causing a riot in the city and for murder.) Pilate was anxious to set Jesus free and addressed them again, but they shouted back, C. Crucify him! Crucify him! N. And for the third time he spoke to them, O. Why? What harm has this man done? I have found no case against him that deserves death, so I shall have him punished and then let him go. N. But they kept on shouting at the top of their voices, demanding that he should be crucified. And their shouts were growing louder. Pilate then gave his verdict: their demand was to be granted. He released the man they asked for, who had been imprisoned for rioting and murder, and handed Jesus over to them to deal with as they pleased. As they were leading him away they seized on a man, Simon from Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and made him shoulder the cross and carry it behind Jesus. Large numbers of people followed him, and of women too, who mourned and lamented for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, ✠ Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep rather for yourselves and for your children. For the days will surely come when people will say, ‘Happy are those who are barren, the wombs that have never borne, the breasts that have never suckled!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’; to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ For if men use the green wood like this, what will happen when it is dry? N. Now with him they were also leading out two other criminals to be executed. When they reached the place called The Skull, they crucified him there and the two criminals also, one on the right, the other on the left. Jesus said, ✠ Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing. N. Then they cast lots to share out his clothing. The people stayed there watching him. As for the leaders, they jeered at him, saying, C. He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One. N. The soldiers mocked him too, and when they approached to offer vinegar they said, C. If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself. N. Above him there was an inscription: ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ One of the criminals hanging there abused him, saying, O. Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us as well. N. But the other spoke up and rebuked him: O. Have you no fear of God at all? You got the same sentence as he did, but in our case we deserved it: we are paying for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. N. He replied, ✠ Indeed, I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise. N. It was now about the sixth hour and, with the sun eclipsed, a darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. The veil of the Temple was torn right down the middle; and when Jesus had cried out in a loud voice, he said, ✠ Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. N. With these words he breathed his last. All kneel and pause a moment When the centurion saw what had taken place, he gave praise to God and said, O. This was a great and good man. N. And when all the people who had gathered for the spectacle saw what had happened, they went home beating their breasts. All his friends stood at a distance; so also did the women who had accompanied him from Galilee, and they saw all this happen. Then a member of the council arrived, an upright and virtuous man named Joseph. He had not consented to what the others had planned and carried out. He came from Arimathaea, a Jewish town, and he lived in the hope of seeing the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. He then took it down, wrapped it in a shroud and put him in a tomb which was hewn in stone in which no one had yet been laid. It was Preparation Day and the sabbath was imminent. Meanwhile the women who had come from Galilee with Jesus were following behind. They took note of the tomb and of the position of the body. Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. And on the sabbath day they rested, as the Law required.
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Or:
Gospel
Luke 23:1-49
The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Luke.
Key: N. Narrator. ✠ Jesus. O. Other single speaker. C. Crowd, or more than one speaker.
N. The elders of the people and the chief priests and scribes rose, and they brought Jesus before Pilate. They began their accusation by saying, C. We found this man inciting our people to revolt, opposing payment of the tribute to Caesar, and claiming to be Christ, a king. N. Pilate put to him this question: O. Are you the king of the Jews? N. He replied, ✠ It is you who say it. N. Pilate then said to the chief priests and the crowd, O. I find no case against this man. N. But they persisted, C. He is inflaming the people with his teaching all over Judaea; it has come all the way from Galilee, where he started, down to here. N. When Pilate heard this, he asked if the man were a Galilean; and finding that he came under Herod’s jurisdiction he passed him over to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem at that time. Herod was delighted to see Jesus; he had heard about him and had been wanting for a long time to set eyes on him; moreover, he was hoping to see some miracle worked by him. So he questioned him at some length; but without getting any reply. Meanwhile the chief priests and the scribes were there, violently pressing their accusations. Then Herod, together with his guards, treated him with contempt and made fun of him; he put a rich cloak on him and sent him back to Pilate. And though Herod and Pilate had been enemies before, they were reconciled that same day. Pilate then summoned the chief priests and the leading men and the people. He said, O. You brought this man before me as a political agitator. Now I have gone into the matter myself in your presence and found no case against the man in respect of all the charges you bring against him. Nor has Herod either, since he has sent him back to us. As you can see, the man has done nothing that deserves death, So I shall have him flogged and then let him go. N. But as one man they howled, C. Away with him! Give us Barabbas! N. (This man had been thrown into prison for causing a riot in the city and for murder.) Pilate was anxious to set Jesus free and addressed them again, but they shouted back, C. Crucify him! Crucify him! N. And for the third time he spoke to them, O. Why? What harm has this man done? I have found no case against him that deserves death, so I shall have him punished and then let him go. N. But they kept on shouting at the top of their voices, demanding that he should be crucified. And their shouts were growing louder. Pilate then gave his verdict: their demand was to be granted. He released the man they asked for, who had been imprisoned for rioting and murder, and handed Jesus over to them to deal with as they pleased. As they were leading him away they seized on a man, Simon from Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and made him shoulder the cross and carry it behind Jesus. Large numbers of people followed him, and of women too, who mourned and lamented for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, ✠ Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep rather for yourselves and for your children. For the days will surely come when people will say, ‘Happy are those who are barren, the wombs that have never borne, the breasts that have never suckled!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’; to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ For if men use the green wood like this, what will happen when it is dry? N. Now with him they were also leading out two other criminals to be executed. When they reached the place called The Skull, they crucified him there and the two criminals also, one on the right, the other on the left. Jesus said, ✠ Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing. N. Then they cast lots to share out his clothing. The people stayed there watching him. As for the leaders, they jeered at him, saying, C. He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One. N. The soldiers mocked him too, and when they approached to offer vinegar they said, C. If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself. N. Above him there was an inscription: ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ One of the criminals hanging there abused him, saying, O. Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us as well. N. But the other spoke up and rebuked him: O. Have you no fear of God at all? You got the same sentence as he did, but in our case we deserved it: we are paying for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. N. He replied, ✠ Indeed, I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise. N. It was now about the sixth hour and, with the sun eclipsed, a darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. The veil of the Temple was torn right down the middle; and when Jesus had cried out in a loud voice, he said, ✠ Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. N. With these words he breathed his last. All kneel and pause a moment When the centurion saw what had taken place, he gave praise to God and said, O. This was a great and good man. N. And when all the people who had gathered for the spectacle saw what had happened, they went home beating their breasts. All his friends stood at a distance; so also did the women who had accompanied him from Galilee, and they saw all this happen.
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Just One Night 2/2
Commander Wolffe x Jedi!Reader, Female!Reader, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Angst, Comfort, you read the title
Just One Night: Part 1
Warnings: NSFW, Light Dom/Sub elements, Oral (Female Receiving), Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Biting, Multiple Orgasms
A/N: Hey, remember when I said I would have this done last week? Well, that was a fucking lie. But, it’s here now and a lot longer than I meant it to me. Also, this is only my third attempt at smut so any feed back out be appreciated. And remember, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!
Word Count: 5.5K
It was so easy to get lost in Wolffe. His touch set fire to your skin. His lips were rough and urgent. His desire for you pulsed out of him in devastating waves, swelling into your own until all you could do was drown in it.
You only became mildly aware of your surroundings when your back pressed hard against the cool metal wall. The contrast against your hot skin brought on a moan allowing Wolffe to slip his tongue between your parted lips and sink deeper into you.
You held onto him trying simultaneously to keep him against you while also exploring his body.
With a frustrated groan, he grabbed your wrists pinning them above your head with one hand. He pressed his body further into you, keeping you pinned between him and the wall.
An ache came between your legs at feeling him so eagerly take control.
As if sensing your thoughts, he slipped a leg between yours. The pressure of his strong thigh against your clit sent a shock of pleasure through you.
On instinct your hips rolled against it. Warmth spread in your veins. You could feel your own arousal spread along the inside of your panties. It became hard to breath. Tearing away from Wolffe’s lips you let out a pitiable whine.
“Wolffe, please.”
You weren’t even sure what you were asking for. You just knew you needed more of this. More of him.
Wolffe stopped, the brown of his human eye now almost black.
You rolled your hips again, showing him what you wanted. You couldn’t form the words.
He looked down at his pant leg and the light stain left behind by your slick. His breath came hard. His eye darted back to yours. The expression on his face made it clear all he wanted to do was pin you to the ground and fuck you right there.
You’d let him.
A low grumble came from deep in his chest before he kissed you fiercely.
“Barracks,” he ordered.
You shook your head, still having some wits about you. “My quarters,” you panted. “More private.”
He hummed in agreement, pulling you away from the wall and back into his arms as he turned you towards the elevator.
To be honest, you weren’t even sure how you made it without getting caught.
It was as if everyone on the ship had disappeared. All that existed was just you and him, and the way your bodies came so easily in tune.
You pulled and pushed against each other. A comical display of the blind leaving the blind, one or both of you forgetting where you were going at any moment, too drunk on each other to care. An ever growing need was the only thing to cut through the fog of wandering hands and desperate kisses.
Somehow, you managed to get in and out of the elevator before stumbling to the door of your room.
Wolffe’s arms wrapped around you from behind. His mouth sucked and tugged at the base of your neck. The vibration of his moans sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slipped easily under your shirt. One stayed on your stomach rubbing delicious circles into your skin while the other wandered lower, delving below your belt line.
You gasped as he placed a feather touch against your clit.
“Open the door, jetii’ika,” he growled into your ear.
You obeyed, waving your hand and allowing the force to do the rest.
The door hissed open just as Wolffe spun you around to face him before backing you into the room. His lips claimed yours once more, searing your skin in their intensity.
You clawed at him, pulling at his shirt, desperate to finally feel every inch of his skin.
He broke the kiss, pushing your hands away and doing it himself.
You copied the motion; pulling your own shirt off before throwing it to some unknown corner.
You didn’t even get a chance to go for your bra as he pulled your flush against his chest. Your moan at the feeling of his hot skin against your own was muffled by his kiss. He kept walking you back until your legs bumped up against the bed.
With surprising gentleness, he guided you down. You didn’t so much as bounce when you back touched the mattress. He pushed you up, your lips never parting until your head landed on the pillows.
But, this brief pause of tenderness didn’t last.
Sitting up on his knees, he stared down at your body with renewed hunger. His hands yanked your pants down your legs, making a point to take your thoroughly soaked panties with him.
Your own hands went to your bra unclasping the back with shaking fingers. With an effort you managed to pull it off, before sitting further up and going for his pant bottoms.
Wolffe stopped you before you could.
Taking one wrist in each of his hands, he pushed you back down to the mattress keeping both arms above your head.
“Stay right there,” he said, roughly. “You’re not allowed to touch me, unless I say so. Do you understand?”
The authority in his voice went straight between your legs. You were almost embarrassed by the sudden need to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache.
“Yes, sir,” you replied, airily.
He hummed in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“Good girl.” He continued to kiss you, trailing his lips across your cheeks and nose and mouth as if trying to create a picture in his mind with only his touch.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” he murmured, sliding down to press a kiss on your throat. He continued down leaving a trail of kisses across your collarbone and shoulders before taking a pause at your breasts.
His hands ghosted across your skin. Their light touch just enough to turn your nipples hard and needy. You could feel the curl of his breath play dangerously across your skin. You wanted nothing more than to curl your fingers in his hair and bury him in your tits.
Still, you followed orders and you kept your hands above your head, gripping the bars of the headboard tight between your knuckles.
“Please,” you whimpered.
“Patience, jetii’ika. I’ll take care of you,” he soothed. “ But, if I only get you for one night, I’m going to take my time.”
A small sting came to your heart at the reminder, only to be overpowered when he finally took your breast in his mouth and sucked.
You let out a small cry of pleasure and relief.
He took your other breast roughly in his hand, rolling the tugging your nipple between his fingers
You squeezed your thighs together in earnest, the burning throb in your cunt becoming unbearable.
Wolffe switched breasts making a point take your skin between his teeth and tug at the swell of your breasts. The sting of pain mixed perfectly with pleasure.
Your chest lifted to meet him as your fists tightened around the headboard.
He chuckled at your desperation, only fueling your frustration and desire.
A wanton moan peeled from your lips. You needed something. Anything to relieve the carnal need between your legs. You could already feel your arousal leaking from your core and down the inside of your thigh.
Wolffe growled out a curse, finally moving away from your breasts and further down your body.
“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t last long,” he warned.
As if the man couldn’t turn you on even more.
“I can be quiet, sir,” you promised with a shaking breath.
He shook his head, groaning into your skin. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He continued down kissing and marking every inch of you, before guiding your legs over his shoulders. It was only then did his lips leave your body, allowing him a full view of your soaked pussy.
He let out a feral moan. His hands rubbed up and down the outside of your thighs as if trying to keep them occupied.
“You’re so pretty jetii’ika,” he whispered, as he a kiss on your inner thigh. “All dripping and ready for me.” Another kiss. “Such a good girl.”
He kept going, murmuring praises and kisses against your skin until he finally, finally, came to where you needed him most.
Moving torturously slow, he pressed an open mouth kiss against your fold. His tongue sank inside of you giving him just a taste before he licked his way up ending with a flick of his tongue against your clit.
The sound that came from your throat was indecent, something to come out of a porno rather than a Jedi Knight. But you didn’t care. You had forgotten any shame the moment he kissed you again.
“You taste so good,” he rasped. “I’m just getting started.” It was the only warning you got before he took your clit in his mouth and sucked.
Your hips bucked wildly at the sudden jolt of pleasure.
He held you down, pressing his hand hard against your stomach to keep you from moving.
His mouth stayed on your clit alternating between sucking and licking and swirling the bud around his mouth and tongue.
All you could do was whimper and moan and allow the pleasure to over power your senses.
You gasped for air. Your mind was a wreck. Nothing else existed but the man between your legs and the mounting pressure in your stomach.
He slipped a single calloused finger between your folds, pumping slowly in and out as his tongue continued it’s assault. He curled and wriggled it inside you, until finally he found what he was looking for.
You let out a strangled cry as he brushed against your G-spot. It was good. Stars, it felt so good. You need more.
“Right there?” he teased.
“Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, right there. Don’t stop. Please. More!”
He growled in response before adding a second finger inside you.
The slight burn of his thick fingers stretching you open matched with the blinding heat was too much.
You let go of the headboard causing your hands to fly down to the sheets. Your fingers curled and your body quaked under the pressure. It was all you could do to keep from burying them in his hair.
You needed something. Anything to hold onto.
It was in that moment, Wolffe pulled his hand off your stomach.
Your back arched, but he didn’t stop.
He took one of your hands and yanked it back to your body. Pressing his hand on top of yours, he pushed you back on the bed. He was back in control, but this time his fingers were entwined with yours.
“I’ve got you cyra’ika,” he whispered, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
It was that small act of tenderness that finally tipped you over the edge.
You came hot and moaning. It enveloped you, melting your muscles and bones until all of was left was a shaking oozing mess.
Wolffe stayed where he was, giving you time to come down from your high as he pressed assuring kisses and praises against your skin.
“You did so well for me jetti’ika. Such a good girl.”
You hummed in content. A film of sweat coated your body allowing you skin to cool and buzz in the aftermath.
You were a good girl. You would do anything this man asked if he made you feel like this.
A small movement interrupted your musings, as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you.
The loss made you whimper in protest. Even in your blissed state, the need to have something buried inside your cunt hit you harder than you anticipated.
Wolffe moved back up your body. His skin was so hot it sunk into yours re-igniting the fire in your blood. Once his eyes became level with yours, he pressed his body against you as he claimed your lips. It was only then did you notice he had taken off his pants.
His naked length pressed thick and heavy against your stomach. You hummed into his mouth and the pleasant sensation.
“Can I touch you now, sir,” you asked, breathless.
He hummed his approval. “Yes,”
You wasted no time. Your fingers curled into his hair, pressing him deeper into your mouth.
He moaned wantonly, but still tried to keep control. He wanted to take it slow. His kisses were wet and languid, allowing you to fully taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t think you could be turned back on so quickly, but the soothing contented buzz was now turning into pulsing desire.
“Can you take more,” he asked.
His look was so gentle. You knew that all you had to do was say no, and he would stop. He would pull away from your body, help clean you up, and tuck you into bed without asking anything for himself.
You kissed him again. Carefully, you curled one hand at the base of his neck. The other side down his torso.
His body felt heavy and comforting pressed on top of you, giving you a sense of just how strong he was and how safe he made you feel. It was only right that a man who could make you feel like that be given everything he wanted.
Carefully, you pressed your hand against his length giving it a gentle squeeze. You could barely get your fingers around his girth, but it was enough.
He let out a hiss of pleasure. His jaw tightened. His hips stuttered. It was taking every ounce of control he had to keep from fucking your hand.
“I can take as much as you can give me,” you said, moving your hand up and down his shaft for emphasis. He groaned, pressing his head against your shoulder.
“Cyra’ika,” he whispered as a curse.
You didn’t stop, feeling a sense of pride at how much real control you had over this perfect man.
“I want to make you feel good,” you continued, rubbing your thumb over the tip of his now leaking cock. “Use me. Show me how to make you feel good. I’ll be your good girl. Please.”
He let out a curse. His hips rolled, but still he kept his composure.
“You already are,” he said, his voice coarse and strained. “Now move your hand so I can fuck you properly.”
You let go, moving your hand back up his body as he adjusted so that his tip teased your entrance.
Looking down at you, he gave you one last gentle look. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, your heart melting. “I want this. I want you.”
His mouth turned up into a small smile. He leaned down, kissing you softly as his length slowly split you open.
You moaned into his mouth, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
He hissed in a mixture of pain and pleasure. But still, he kept his movements slow and precise.
Inch by inch he sank into you. The burning stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to the thickness of his cock.
You choked on air. You had never felt so full in your life and still more of him buried its way inside you. It was all so much and not enough.
He stopped the moment he was fully sheathed.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, gasping for air. “You take all of me so well. Fuck, how are you so perfect?
A warmth spread through your body at his praise. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted to be the one to make him feel good. With a sudden boldness, you carefully rocked your hips.
Wolffe let out a strangled moan, gripping the sheets tighter.
“Cyar’ika…”
“I’m ready,” you promised, feeling a familiar tightness even at that small a motion. “Please Wolffe. Fuck me.”
He complied. Sucking in a breath he slowly pulled part way out before slowly sinking back in.
Your breath hitched as he repeated the motion again and again creating a steady rhythm. You met every thrust determined to take him deeper. Wolffe met your needs, pulling further out, before surging back into you. You trembled under his touch. Low whimpers bubbled from your lips.
He was making love to you, slow and deep. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffed you full again and again.
You clung tighter to him, feeling the cord in your abdomen beginning to tighten. It felt so good. But, something was wrong.
The muscles of his back held an unspoken tension beneath your fingernails. His neck strained and his breaths were labored, not from effort, but self control.
Your heart tugged as the realization hit you. He didn’t want to hurt you. He was making this all about you.
Pulling yourself up, you leaned your lips against his ear.
“I’ve got you Wolffe,” you said, repeating his own words back to him. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his hips never stopping. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”
“I do,” you insisted. “I trust you. Fuck me how you want to. Please Wolffe. Use me. I’m yours.”
A feral growl came low in his chest. “I warned you.”
Gripping your thighs, he shoved them back forcing your legs higher until they were wrapped high on his torso. The sudden strain brought a hiss of pain only to morph into a cry of pleasure as Wolffe speared his cock deep inside of you.
The new angle brought stars to your vision.
Wolffe didn’t relent. His hips moved at a brutal pace thoroughly fucking you into the mattress.
“Is this what you wanted,” he grunted, through gritted teeth. “You want me to wreck you?”
“Yes,” you whined. “Fuck. Please Wolffe, don’t stop.”
Your nails dug deeper into his back. You buried your cries in his shoulder, biting and kissing and doing everything you could to keep from waking the entire ship.
The pain spurred him to go even harder. Taking a good grip on the headboard with one hand he used the leverage to fuck you deeper. The other he snuck between your bodies, rubbing fiercely against your clit.
You threw back your head, forgetting about anything else and a let out strangled wail.
“Wolffe!”
“That’s it jetii’ika,” he growled. “Cum. I know you can do it. You’ve been such a good girl. Taking my cock so well. You’re my good girl. Cum for me. You can do it. Cum. Fuck, cum all over my cock. You’re almost there. Just fucking, cum!”
It was all too much, his fingers, his cock, his words, it sent you spirling into another orgasm. This one crashed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you clamped down hard on his length, writhing beneath him.
He didn’t stop. Gripping your hips so hard they’d bruise, he impaled you again and again, making your already sensitive body tremble. You didn’t even get a chance to come down from your high as another pressure burned inside you.
“Wolffe,” you moaned, unsure whether you were asking him to stop or keep going.
He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shaking from the force of him.
Through hazy vision, you saw him squeeze the base of his cock. You thought he was going to keep stroking until he came all over your tits. Instead, he took hold of your shoulders, and turned you roughly on your stomach.
You had no control of your body. Frankly you didn’t want it. You loved the way Wolffe manhandled you, taking what he wanted from your body while still making you feel so good.
He pulled you back, forcing your ass in the air, while leaving your face pressed against the mattress. You could feel his whole body leaning over you. His massive cock slid over your entrance, teasing with the promise of stuffing you full of him. The expanse of his chest and strength of his grip held you down. You were completely at his mercy and fuck if you weren’t happy about it.
“I’m going to cum inside your cunt,” he hissed, his words hot and heavy in your ear. “I’m going to fuck you hard and cum so deep inside your pussy you’ll feel me inside you for weeks.Would you like that, jetii’ika? Is that what you want?”
He rubbed up and down your oversensitive slit making the answer easy.
“Yes,” you sobbed. “Fuck me. Please!”
He hummed in satisfaction, biting lightly into your shoulder.
“That’s what I thought.”
He pulled back up, giving you no warning before plunging deep into your aching pussy.
You screamed into the mattress, but Wolffe didn’t stop. Your whole body shook with every thrust. The sounds that came from his chests were animalistic and wild. There was no easing into it. The leaking cum from you two previous orgasms was enough for him to easily pound into you hard and fast, focusing on nothing but instinctual lust.
You didn’t even try to match his motions. He was using your body as his personal fuck toy. No thinking required. Just him.
You could feel his need pulsing out of him. Your own lust made it difficult to keep his emotions at bay, so you didn’t fight it. The force flowed easily through you. Cardinal desire crashed into yours turning your blood hot and your limbs useless.
Any control of your motor functions disappeared. You were nothing but a mewling mess unsure of where your pleasure ended and his started.
Wolffe let out a strangled cry. His whole body quaked, but he didn’t stop. His hips still pistoned inside of you as he all but collapsed on your back.
“What are you doing to me,” he groaned.
You shook your head, some part of you recognizing how he could feel your lust just the way you could his.
“What you do to me,” you rasped.
He snarled in response. Looping his arm around your torso, he pulled up, forcing you to your knees as you back pressed hard against his chest.
The new angle brought a sob to your throat as his cock brushed up against that specific spot inside you pussy.
He thrust up into you, hitting you there again and again. You wailed and moaned, completely at his mercy.
The hand around your torso cupped your breasts roughly. The other slipped down, rubbing hard against your clit.
You were both drenched in sweat. Sex filled your nose as blood roared in your ears. You were blind to anything else except the pleasure and unbearable strain in your stomach.
“I do this to you?” he panted. “I make you feel this way?”
“Yes,” you cried. “Yes you. Only you.”
His fingers rubbed harder. “Cum for me then. Cum one more time. I know you have it in you. You did so well the last time.”
His thrusts became even more erratic. Any control he had slipping away as he got closer.
“Fuck Y/N, cum! Milk my cock. Take it all!”
You gasped as his hips stuttered. A primal shout ripped from his throat. Hot cum shot up deep inside you, coating your cunt in his seed. He bit hard into your shoulder, muffling his cries.
The added pain of him marking you broke you in half. You came hard, howling and mewling and clenching, your body trying to do as he asked and keep every bit of him inside you.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. You were still trembling. Wolffe’s breath panted against your neck. He held you close, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as the roll of his hips finally slowed. His efforts paid off. Slowly, you came back to your body and the present.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of your eye. It was only then you noticed the tears leaking down your face.
“You’re alright,” he soothed. “I’m going to take care of you. You’re such a good girl.”
His cock became soft inside you, making it easier for him to carefully pull out of you.
Warm cum dripped down your thighs. Almost on instinct, your hand slid between your legs. Your fingers found the stream and tried to push it back in.
A hand touched your wrist. With barely any pressure, Wolffe pulled your hand away.
You hummed in discontentment, but he paid you no mind.
With all the care in the world, he laid you down on the mattress, making sure to roll you carefully to your back, before crawling over you.
The silence between you was deafening saved only by short laboured breaths.
Your eyes felt heavy. Every part of your body exhausted in the best possible way, but you didn’t dare close your eyes. You knew if you did, he would be gone by the time you opened them again.
Wolffe gazed down at you with a tenderness that melted your heart. Slowly, he reached out a hand, brushing some of the hair out of your face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
You nodded a yes. “Just...a lot.”
Concern marred his features. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head no, a small smile coming to your lips. “Only in the ways I wanted you to.”
His lips pressed into a mildly annoyed frown which you quickly kissed away.
“Take the compliment Commander,” you teased.
He huffed out laugh. “Can you move?”
You had to think about that one. Your limbs had finally stopped shaking. If you gave yourself time to meditate, you could have full function in a few minutes, but there was no rush. The feeling of Wolffe’s warm body pressing oh so gently against yours was too good to just let slip away.
“Give me a few days,” you sighed, airily.
The man actually smirked at you. “Now that’s a compliment I’ll take.”
You rolled your eyes which only caused him to chuckle before placing a kiss to your temple.
“I’ll be right back.”
Slipping away, he moved towards the refresher.
The assurance of his return was the only reason you allowed your eyes to finally close. You focused on the force around you and the lingering emotions in the air. Lust and desire came to rest on your tongue, along with something much sweeter and mournful underneath. You recognize it for what it was; love and all that entailed.
An ache came to your chest. You pushed the feelings away, turning your attention to your physical form.
Focus on the now, you reminded yourself. Not what will be. Not what has happened. Now is the only moment that exists.
You were so focused on the now, it took you by surprise when a pair of strong arms lifted you into the air.
“Wolffe,” you squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck for balance. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you,” he answered easily. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
Your brows furrowed, even as your insides melted at the sentiment. What in the galaxy was he planning?
You got your answer quickly as he opened the refresher door and the sound of flowing water filled your ears. The room was already filled with steam and your muscles instantly relaxed at just the promise of a warm shower.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to hold me like this the whole time,” you asked.
“Tempting as that is, I don’t think there’s room,” he conceded. “You think you can stand?”
“If I can’t, you get bragging rights.”
He nodded in understanding even as another all too smug smirk twisted his mouth.
Gently, he let out slip from his hold, guiding your feet back to solid ground. You were admittedly a little shaky, but nothing a solid arm to hold and a hand at your back couldn’t fix.
“Alright?” he asked.
You nodded a laugh. “Looks like you’ll have to try harder next time.”
Wolffe’s face fell.
Your stomach twisted, realizing your slip. You didn’t want to have that conversation. Not now. Not when you still had time.
Wolffe seemed to agree.
Silently, he pressed his hand against the small of your back, nudging you towards the shower door.
You slipped inside, a low hum of approval coming to your lips the moment the water hit your skin.
Wolffe followed after.
The shower was small forcing your bodies close together as you face each other. But, the water came directly from the ceiling, warming you both equally under its spray.
Wolffe didn’t waste time. Pulling a washcloth off the sidebar, he wetted it before lathering it in body wash. You watched him with curiosity as, instead of starting at your shoulders, he knelt before you.
His locked on yours as he pressed his free hand against your outer thigh. He then slipped the washcloth between your legs, cleaning up the mess left by your passions.
You closed your eyes, your skin buzzing at such a simple touch. It wasn’t desire, even if the view of Wolffe kneeling naked before you was surely one you would come back to. Rather it was the unrelenting sensation of being well and truly cared for by someone you loved.
He continued his motions, massaging your muscles as soap and water poured over your skin. He nuzzled into your stomach, pressing a tender kiss against it.
You breathed out a sigh, running your hands through his damp hair. If he didn’t stop, he was well on his way to getting you turned on all over again.
All too soon, he pulled away, coming back to his feet.
You blinked your eyes open, finally getting a full view of his naked form. Despite your activities, you really didn’t get the chance to properly admire him.
He was beautiful, simple as that. Every part of him from his broad shoulders to his hard thighs radiated strength. His skin was perfect. The scars from battle only enhancing his beauty in your eyes.
Absently you traced your fingers over his chest feeling the familiar lines. You remembered every cut and bruise. For a long time it had been part of your duty to patch him up after all. It pained you to think how many of them came at the cost of protecting you.
“What are you thinking, jetii'ika?” he whispered.
You glanced up at him, your eyes softening. “Nothing bad. It’s just...you take care of me.”
He stared down at you, clearly unsure of how to respond.
You gave a quiet smile. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips against his lower jaw while your hand pressed against his heart. “You’ve always taken care of me,” you murmured.
His breath hitched.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke, allowing only silence and the sound of dripping water.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice low.
You tried your best to hide your disappointment, but did as he asked.
Again he pressed the washcloth against your skin. He moved up and down your back, taking extra care at the bruises surely now forming on your hips. Working his way up, he pushed your wet hair away from your back.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Did I do that?”
His fingers pressed against your shoulder, focing a small hiss from your lips. It was the exact spot his teeth had been earlier.
“Mhmm,” you hummed as a yes.
He let out another curse. Regret radiated out of him, as his hand slipped away. “I am so sorry. You said I didn’t hurt you.”
“I said, only in the ways I wanted you to.” You reached behind you, brushing the tender spot carefully with your finger. You wished you could see it properly. You wanted to know exactly how Wolffe had marked you as his own.
“I really don’t mind this at all,” you promised.
He stayed silent for a moment.
Behind you hear the washcloth slap to the floor just as two strong arms wrapped themselves around you.
You hummed in contentment at the feel of his skin pressed against your back. You wanted to stay like this forever; safe and warm and surrounded by him.
He pressed a kiss against your marked shoulder. You could feel the furrow of his brow as he held that position for a long while.
“I think I lied to you,” he said, softly. “One night won’t be enough.”
You let out a breath. “In that case, I lied to you too,” you admitted. “I never intended for this to be just one night.”
He gave a short breathy laugh, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips trailed up to the top of your shoulder.
“What do we do then?”
You leaned your head against his, closing your eyes. “Be together; however we can and for as long as we can” you said, simply.
You took his hand in yours, cradling it as you brought it to your lips. “I love you, Wolffe. I can’t walk away from you again.”
He breathed out a sigh, before burning his face in your neck.
“I love you too,” he whispered in earnest, “and I don’t think I could let you.”
You turned in his arm, staring up into his mismatched eyes that looked at you like you were the center of the universe.
He brushed your wet hair out of your face, a familiar gesture that always sent a shiver through you ever since you first met him. He pressed his hand to your cheek, brushing his rough thumb against your skin.
“However we can, for as long as we can,” he repeated, speaking the words as a vow. “I can live with that.”
You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him as the final seal.
However you could, for as long as you could.
You would keep that promise. How could you do anything else?
#commander wolffe#star wars#the clone wars#commander wolffe x reader#star wars imagine#the clone wars imagine#lemon
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Hey, you probably won't see this but I see that your request are still open. May I request one with the foursome? they are Neglecting the reader like making excuses to not spend time with her or not making love to her but she hears them making love to each other. They all decided to go to a fancy party they left the reader at the bar by herself when she ready to go home she sees them flirting with another girl calling her pet names and she sees Jim kissing her and touching her. The reader goes home crying her eyes out thinking they don't love her and she becomes depressed the more they keep neglecting her the more she becomes depressed and they notice and they try to make things right with her. I know this is long u don’t have to write it. This idea has been on my mind for a while.
oh this completely broke me :(( i’m gonna make this extremely angsty so FAIR WARNING. this will not have a happy ending,,,,,, i’m mean that way >:) this is gonna be vvveeeeerrrryyyyy looonnnggggggg.
word count: 6,249 fucking words
You’re not sure how long it’s been; days, weeks, maybe months. Somehow, in some way, it felt like an eternity. Without their touch, you weren’t sure how to keep yourself grounded and away from the darkness etched in your mind. Without simple praises falling from their lips like a soft melody, you weren’t sure how to build yourself up when you’re constantly falling down. Without their beautiful eyes set on you as if you were the most precious diamond in the entire world, you weren’t sure how to even feel worthy again. All you felt was pain - that deep, emotional, excruciating pain that seemed to follow you everywhere you went, whether you liked it or not. This was hell for you. You’re not sure what you did to end up in your own personal hell, but this was it. And you wanted to get out one way or another.
This loneliness is a vice on your heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It kills you everyday just a little bit more, taking what was once your inner light and replacing it with a darkness that overshadows each moment. It is the fuel of your nightmares, the reason you struggle to breathe when a new shock comes. Where is the limit? When comes the point at which dogs are called off and the help begins? Because you need to know; you really need to know.
Today was like no other. It was just a repetitive cycle like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that. You tried desperately to get something from them; a hug, a kiss, a pat on the back, a fucking handshake. You needed them so that it quells your mind that they don’t want you anymore, that they have no need to keep you around. It was pure torture.
Duncan was lounging in the living room, knocking back a small glass of his favorite Whiskey - one that you bought for him that traveled all the way from Sweden. His eyes were trained on the television mounted above the fireplace, his feet propped up on the glass table and crossed at the ankles. He didn’t turn his head when you entered, but you noticed his shoulders tensed as if he were holding his breath.
“Dunc?” You quietly spoke. “Um.. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me tonight? Just you and me?” You were fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit they all stopped you from continuing, but you picked it up again. You scraped at the skin in the corners of your fingernails and barely reacted when you looked down and saw blood.
“Can’t,” was his response.
“Oh..” you whispered, feeling your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach as your neck and cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “M-May I ask why?”
“I’m busy, Y/N,” he sighs and does the thing when he’s frustrated and rubs his hand over his jaw.
You nodded wordlessly, swallowing down a small whimper of emotional pain and left the living room. When you got to the hallway, you pressed your back against the wall and hid your face in your hands. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” you hissed to yourself, feeling that little tickle in your nostrils and the lump in your throat getting larger and more painful. You sniffled and stared at your feet. Your vision was getting increasingly blurry, the moments of Duncan’s rejection etched in your mind, mocking you for being so pathetic. “No, I’m not,” you whimpered. So very pathetic.
When you were able to calm down again, you gently wiped away your tears and hiccuped a few shaky breaths. Trudging up the steps slowly, you felt a bit of hope when you heard Michael in his office, wondering if he was typing away at his computer as always. You walked the agonizingly long hallway, twiddling your fingers again. You heard his quiet laughter, followed by the low hum of his voice, although you couldn't make out what he was saying or who was talking to. You knocked three times and slowly pushed the door open, gasping softly as you witnessed what was in front of you.
Jim was wearing one of his baggy college sweaters which was bunched at the bottom around his hips. He sat on Michael's lap straddling him, the same way you would always do. Their lips were locked in a deep kiss, Jim's moans so soft and barely a whisper. You felt a sick feeling in your stomach when you noticed how naked he was below. How long has it been since Jim and Michael touched you? Duncan? At this point, you couldn't even remember when the last time was.
Feeling a presence behind you, you sharply turned and spotted Duncan. You blushed as he looked down at you. He got closer now, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body and the smell of his intoxicating cologne. He stepped into the doorway and into Michael's office. You looked up at him with hopeful eyes, wondering if they were going to invite you as well. You missed their pleasure filled touch. As you were about to step in as well, Duncan blocked whatever was left of the entrance with his body and the door, as he was holding onto the doorknob to avoid you coming in.
"Maybe next time," he told you in a monotone voice. And with that, he shut the door and locked it. Hearing that lock click so you wouldn't come in felt like a punch in the gut. You staggered back as if you were knocked in the face by Mike Tyson himself. Everything around you feels like it's going in slow motion. Your breathing sounds like an echo in your ears as you begin to hear a high pitched ringing. Your breathing is shallow and rapid, the early signs of an anxiety attack. You grabbed onto the wall as you begun to feel extremely dizzy.
"No, no, no, please no," you weakly cried out as you reached your room. "Not now. Not again." You felt so pathetic and weak. You slammed your door and hurried to your dresser as you began to wheeze, desperate to get in an even breath. You pulled out your inhaler, shaking it for a brief moment, popping the cap off and sticking the tube into your mouth to breath in the carbonated medicine. Almost instantly, you felt your lungs open up. You panted softly and outstretched your legs on the ground.
"What's wrong with me?" You weeped quietly, not able to hold in your cries anymore and finally letting the dam break. You're not sure what caused the change in your relationship, but you desperately wanted things to go back to normal.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: ✧・゚: *✧・゚:
You have always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift on by. You have always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make, like nature loves to chatter too. Yet the tiredness that begun a while ago remains like a veil over your skin, grey and cold. And as you watch the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy. It sits like November rain on your skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time you would have spoken to the guys, asked for the warmth you needed to ward it off, just a little is enough. No longer. Now you just let it come, drop by drop and you feel like it's an ocean falling upon you instead of rain - that the grief of years you carefully suspended has all condensed right above your head into a cloud large enough to block the sun. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. Thing is, you just don't care. You'll still be true to yourself, still help others, but you plan to just stay here in the cold, comfortably numb.
When the tears weren't even half way done, you were empty. You couldn't have cried even if you wanted to. You hadn't experienced this feeling in a long time. The sadness was still there, but not raw anymore – now it was an empty unhappiness - the kind you didn't think would easily lift. You felt like Michael, Duncan, or even Jim could surprise you with the cutest kitten on earth and you wouldn't feel a thing. You stared around yourself as if you were in a pit. Your surroundings were exactly the same, but they gave you no emotion. How could that be? You needed emotion to feel alive, to feel love.
There was a knock at your door, but you didn't respond. You continued staring out the window with a blank expression, your eyes dead and your lips in a slight frown. It was raining. You loved the rain. You remembered when you and Jim had ran outside one spring afternoon and jumped into puddles while laughter filled the air. If you focused your eyes well enough, you can probably see the raindrops sliding down the leaves.
"Y/N?" You felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You sat in a daze, completely silent as rain continued to slap against the window. You looked at the hand and then up at the culprit. "Hey, can you hear me?"
"Hm.." you hummed low and looked around your surroundings. You looked back outside and breathed against the window, watching as frosty condensation forms on the glass. "Hi Jim."
The way you spoke worried Jim deeply. You spoke with zero emotion, as if you were a robot with no feelings at all. You had an empty look in your eyes when you looked up at him. He didn't even recognize you. Your reaction to his words were so delayed and monotonous. You were always so bright and bubbly and cheerful. But now, your responses were, "oh" "um" "hm.." "okay."
"We're going to a party tonight for Duncan's company. Michael wants us all to go, okay?" He told you, stuffing his hands in his pockets as his main focus was on you. "You down for dressing up all fancy?" He had a teasing tone in his voice, but you didn't react to it. All you said was, "Okay, Jim" in that same blank tone. He's not sure what was wrong with you, but he chose not to say much else. He nods wordlessly and leaves your room, not without sparing you one last glance, one that you didn't reciprocate. You still had that thousand yard stare out the window.
As he walks down the long steps, he hears soft murmurs of Michael and Duncan’s voice in the kitchen. When he enters, he smells the delicious steak Michael was currently cooking in a skillet pan. It sizzles and smokes, making his mouth instantly water. Duncan’s leaning against the counter adjacent to the blonde man, nursing down a glass of iced water with lemon - shockingly. They stop their conversation when Duncan notices Jim standing by the large kitchen island, his arms crossed and a wary look on his face.
“What’s wrong, Jimmy?” Duncan immediately crosses over and placed his cold hands over his cheeks. “What’s got you looking so beaten up?”
“Something’s wrong with Y/N,” he quietly tells him, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “She’s... different. Not good different. It’s just... different.”
“Different how?” Michael turned suddenly and seemed interested in the conversation.
“She just wasn’t... there. It was like she was out of it and it was fucking scary,” Jim practically whimpered. “Are you sure we should be doing this? I-I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”
“Listen, we all already agreed with it, so we might as well continue with the plan, alright? The least she can do is understand where we’re coming from,” Michael reasoned, lightly calming down the young man.
All three men prepared dinner while you sat in the bath tub with boiling hot water pouring onto like no other. Compared to the cold rain outside, this type of rainfall felt so fucking excruciating and peaceful. The pain etched all over your sensitive skin was what you needed. With your knees tucked to your chest and your chin resting on them, you stared ahead in a blank state, barely acknowledging how hot the water really was. You hummed quietly when there was a knock on the door, followed by the wooden barrier opening.
“Jesus Christ,” Michael hissed as he was immediately enveloped in hot steam, barely seeing the shower or himself in the large mirror beside him. “Y/N? Are you in here?” He spots your rumbled pile of clothes on the ground, and he sees your shadow behind the shower curtain. “What the fuck?” He rips open the shower curtain and takes note of your bright red skin. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” He furiously goes to shut off the water, yanking his head back as he briefly touches the scorching knob. He reaches down to grab your shirt, wrapping it around the knob to turn the water off completely.
“I like hot showers,” you mumbled and never removed your blank stare from the tiles in front of you. “They feel... they feel... hm... good.” You nodded to yourself.
Michael now knew what Jim was talking about. This robotic state you were in was something he has never seen before. He wrapped a soft towel around your extremely warm shoulders and helped you out of the tub - the way you moved was like you were working on autopilot. There was no smooth glide in your movements like you usually had. It was rocky and uncoordinated, almost robotic. You sat on the toilet seat, not caring of your nudity before Michael. You were usually shy and hid away with a blushing smile, something Michael always loved teasing you about. You would always swat at his hand when he would - so very gently - trace your stretch marks. You didn’t even look up at him as he dried you off.
“We’re going to a party tonight. I’m sure Jimmy told you the details, right?” He looked down at you for a response, but all you did was stare ahead emotionless and in silence. He clears his throat. “I got everyone clothes to wear, so I left yours on your bed. Dinner’s ready downstairs.”
“Not hungry,” you whispered just barely, but Michael heard you perfectly clear. “Just gonna go... lie down for a bit.” It was quiet again as you fully wrapped yourself in the towel. You nodded to yourself and hummed softly, slowly standing from your seat and walking passed Michael in a trance-like state. He watched in the hallway as you made your way to your room and shut the door without sparing him another glance. He sighed softly and looked back into the bathroom, the leftover heat now gone and replaced with a soft mist.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: ✧・゚: *✧・゚:
The drive to the event/party felt like an eternity. You sat in the backseat with Jim. All three men spoke to one another while Duncan drove. You were looking out the window, your eyes moving frantically to watch the street lamps pass by in a flash. You counted quietly to yourself with each car that passed. So far there’s been two cars every four minutes, so it seems. Jim was keeping an eye on you, watching as your lips moved like you were lip syncing to a song in your head. But it looked like your lips were barely parting to form a coherent word. It just looked like whispers, as if you were telling secrets to someone of the unknown. You looked down at your nails and scraped at the peeling skin. So pathetic.
“No,” you mumbled. “No, no, no.” Your voice was so quiet that a pin dropping can even be heard. You’re not sure when the guys ended their conversation or when the car stopped, but a hand touching your elbow pulled you from your thoughts.
“We’re here,” Duncan told you with a tight lipped smile, one that was obviously fake and strained.
You carefully exited the SUV, being careful of the bottom of your silky, champagne colored dress. You tightened the slip around your shoulders and chest when Michael wrapped an arm around your back to lead you towards the entrance. There were lots of people, too many people. The noise. The loud noise. It’s too loud. So very loud; the overexcited laughing, the clinking and scraping of metal silverware against delicate glass, the boisterous music. It’s so fucking loud. You winced when a man’s shoulder roughly knocked into yours when he was in a deep conversation with another man. This was a bad idea, so very bad. You turned to tell Michael that you were already not liking this, but he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Jim or Duncan. All three of them somehow disappeared and left you in the crowd.
You stifled a whimper and bit your bottom lip as you desperately stood on your tippy toes to try to look over the heads of so many business men, business women, or anyone in between. They bumped into you, not caring to apologize. You heard that familiar ringing in your ears again. All the noise you heard, all the laughter and music and conversation, sounded like it was in a tunnel. That echo that seemed so far away. You spotted a bar in the corner of the main hall and hurried over, silently thanking whoever was above when the seats were empty. The bartender acknowledged you and gave you a nod.
“What can I get you?” He leaned in close to hear you, a small hand towel resting on his shoulder.
“Um.. a strawberry lemonade, please?” You quietly told him, still looking back in hopes of spotting your men, hoping that they spotted you as well.
You can hear the sloshing of ice as the bartender made your drink. You were nervously picking at your fingers again, your face set in a grimace at the amount of people pouring in. You felt sick in your stomach. You felt... alone. Your drink was set on a napkin in front of you, all pretty and a mix of pink and red. You thanked him so very softly that he had to lean in to hear you. You reached into your small clutch and pulled out a $20. “Keep the rest,” you told him and took a small sip.
“I appreciate it, miss.” He gave you a smile and moved on to an eager and very drunk customer at the end of the bar.
You gnawed at your bottom lip, pulling at the thin protective skin with your teeth, barely wincing from the sting. Your eyes were frantically scanning the entire room, trying to see that familiar head of long blonde hair of Michael, of that neatly styled hair of Duncan, or that soft fringe of Jim. You sighed defeatedly and looked down at your drink, feeling so very unworthy and unwanted as laughter echoed all around you. Why did you even come? You knew it was pointless, didn’t you?
“What did I do wrong?” You whispered so weakly to yourself, resting your elbow on the bar top as your forehead rests on your hand. “Fucking stupid.”
Your drink was almost empty as you swirled your ice around with your striped paper straw. The little paper umbrella toothpick was discarded neatly on a napkin. You swiped your fingers on the condensation left from your glass. You drew a small smiley face, but soon wiped it away with the napkin. You looked up to do one last sweep with your eyes when suddenly, you saw the back of Michael’s head. You knew it was him because of the dark red velvet suit jacket he was wearing. Beside him was Duncan, and both men were grinning and talking to someone in front of them. You hoped it was Jim. And it was Jim. But they weren’t alone.
Clinging to his arm stood a pretty woman, so dainty and bright, yet there was a certain fire to her that you didn’t have. You watched as she probably said something snarky to Michael that had him throwing his head back in a laugh. Duncan was grinning like a cat that got the cream. Jim was staring her down like a hungered man. Then, it happened. It was so fast, but it felt like slow motion as it repeats over and over and over and over again in your head. She was clutching onto his tie, pulling him down desperately as they kissed so deeply, with such passion you haven’t had in so long. What hurt the most was that Duncan and Michael watched. They had grins on their faces, the same ones they had when Jim would do the same to you. You swallowed down a gasp as your eyes watered. You read Michael’s lips as he spoke to her. All you can make out was, “Dove.” That was your name. You can feel an ache spread from your chest to your stomach and back up to your chest. You covered your mouth to stifle an excruciating cry.
The pain increased with every step you took towards the exit. You held the bottom of your dress to not trip over, your tears warm and quick down your cheeks, for sure leaving mascara tracks. You hurried down the steps and turned the corner, passing through the beautiful garden you failed to notice earlier. When you were out of sight from other people, you dropped to your knees and pressed your hands into the grass. Your shoulders shook as you desperately tried to breathe, but every time you breathed it was a painful gasp and hiccup.
“Why? Why? Why? Why me? Why? What did I do? What did I do wrong, God? Please, tell me, why?” You cried and brought your hands together in a praying motion, crying up at the sky above. “Please, tell me! And I’ll change! Just tell me, why?”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: ✧・゚: *✧・゚:
Self control is a finite resource because the part of the brain exerting control gets tired - it requires energy and that gets depleted. So, the repressing of anger needs careful thought. If it is boiling up, how will it be cooled? If it explodes, whom bares the brunt? Because they psyche under seige will naturally seek a more vulnerable (hence "safe") person to explode at. Stress bubbles down to less dominant people in a society where the more powerful have reduced ability to handle their anger and stress. Thus, how you deal with your anger is vital. It is as steam in a pressure cooker, you have to find a way to let it out in a safe manner. That can be through physical activity or by finding inner peace, or often a combination of the two. Sport releases the need for self control, finding inner peace expands your endurance and ability for self control. As such, they are a winning combination.
But now.. you’re not sure you have that same self control you had a while back. You felt nothing, hence you did nothing. You just laid there hoping that it’ll pass. Feeling empty and feeling tired have such a strong connection to one another that you need to fully rest before you can figure out what is what. But even rest is tiring. There is a silence to your soul; you’re fall leaves under frost. You feel the chill in your blood, coldness bringing the synapses of your brain to a stand still. Part of it is a pain, yet one you can endure, one you can sleep through night after night without the anaesthesia of false hope. This is your winter; you wait for spring and the chattering of the birds. But it never comes.
It’s been a month. One whole month since you’ve witnessed the cause of your shattered heart. It wasn’t broken and able to piece back together. It was completely shattered into dust. You relived in constantly in your conscious and unconscious state. It replayed like a broken record over and over and over again. The moment was in your dreams, nightmares, and thoughts. When you had gotten home that night, you stood in complete silence before finally uttering that long, heart-wrenching scream that strained your vocal cords. You had fallen to the ground, unable to keep yourself standing any longer and screamed and screamed and screamed until you couldn’t scream anymore. You were already in bed by the time the guys had gotten home. Only Jim called your phone, but you let it ring. They didn’t check up on you. They just left you there, broken.
You lie awake in bed, watching as the rain fell and pelted against the window in a gently melody. It brought your spirits just slightly, but it soon washed away in an instant. You contemplated on taking your medication again, the ones that made you feel good, but you’d rather punish yourself with this overpowering feeling of emptiness. You didn’t deserve to feel good. You deserved the pain thrown at you emotionally.
You’re not sure what time it was, but there was still light out. It couldn’t be no more than two in the afternoon. You heard clatter coming from downstairs, followed by a mix of deep voices. You continued staring out the window, wishing you were enveloped in nothing but darkness. There was a knock at your door, following the small creak of it opening. Well, this was a first.
“Dove?” Michael quietly called out. “Are you awake?”
He watched as your breathing was steady, your back facing him as you were huddled underneath the covers. You didn’t respond to him, but you knew that he knew you were awake. He sighed quietly and stepped around your bed to get closer to you, sitting on the edge of the bed to lower the covers in order to see you.
You didn’t look at him, instead keeping your eyes on the window with a blank expression. He noticed the really dark circles under your eyes and your sickly complexion. He noticed how much weight you’ve lost, and he wondered when was the last time you ate. He hadn’t seen you in the kitchen in so long because it was Jim who tried to coax you to join them for breakfast and dinner.
“Come downstairs and eat,” he told you, tugging on your arm gently, but you slowly pulled it away and tucked it under the covers again. He frowned.
“Not hungry,” you hoarsely whispered. “Just go away, Michael.” You shut your eyes as a small tear rolled down your temple. “Please... just leave.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but his attention turned to the doorway where Jim and Duncan stood. They both shook their heads as the youngest of the two frantically waved his hand in a “come here” motion. Michael glanced at you one last time and stood up with a small sigh. When he left the room and shut the door, they all stood in a small circle.
“She’s getting worse,” Duncan mumbled and rubbed his jaw frustratedly.
“I knew this was a bad fucking idea, Michael,” Jim hissed. “I never wanted to do this. You wanted to do this. And we were so stupid to go along with it because you made us believe that we needed something new in our lives.”
“It was a suggestion, Jim,” Michael told him, holding a hand out to calm the frantic man. “I just thought -”
“Yeah,” Jim cut him off. “You thought it would make things better. Now look at her. She’s fucking falling apart because of us.” He whimpered and pressed his hands against his eyes to roughly rub his tears away.
He walked away in a hurry, mentally beating himself up for falling victim to Michael’s words. What was he thinking? Needing something new? He didn’t need new, he needed you. When he kissed and flirted and had his hands on that girl, all he was thinking about was you. He wasn’t thinking how bad the outcome could’ve been.
Duncan stared at Michael silently with his arms crossed. “We need to make this right,” he told the blonde man. “This was a reckless and unthinkable thing we could’ve done, and now we’re paying the price.”
“I know,” Michael mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just wanted our relationship to take a next level of something exciting.”
“Exciting?” Duncan scoffed. “We pushed her away. We neglected her constantly. We haven’t touched her, let alone kissed her in, what, almost two months? It’s just... we should’ve brought her into the loop as well.”
“I know,” Michael stressed. “Look, we’ll fix this. We always do.”
Except, the damage was already done. There was nothing too fix. You were a hallow shell of a human, of what was left of you. You were nothing but a faint, forgotten memory.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: ✧・゚: *✧・゚:
You rest eyes upon the leaves, fluttering in the garden. In the light of day you could never tell of the storm they had suffered the night before, of the winds that howled and tore their brethren from branches to ground. They reflected the soft sun rays, gave off their colors with that quiet joy nature sings of, that silent music you love to hear. Yet you also saw the plucked leaves, swirling in the gusting wind, the subtle “tells” of the hardship only recently passed. In that moment you wondered what people would make of you. Would they see “tells” of your storm? The way your eyes were slow and mouth heavy at the corners? Would they see the tears un-cried? And if they did, if they saw that emotional debris, knowing how the grief hurricane returns over and over, would they shine for you like the sun on the trees or treat you like you were on the other side of glass, ensuring that your storm never chilled their own skin, much less clipped at their souls. You wondered.
Tightening your chunky cardigan over your body as a chill passed, you smiled and closed your eyes as you smelled the freshly cut grass and rainwater. Everything was peaceful, as it should be. Your bare feet was buried in the soft tuts of bright green grass, your toes wiggling as you giggled at the tickling sensation. Afternoon crickets chirped and birds sung sweet songs in the trees. You felt at peace with yourself. Michael, Duncan, and Jim were away. You’re not sure where, but they had left a note telling you the time they should be back. The trunk and backseat of your car were filled with boxes and trash bags of your things. It was time to let go and be free, as much as it pained you to do so. As much as you tried to forget about that incident, it was tattooed in the back of your mind permanently.
You entered the house and shut the back door, making sure it was locked and the window shades were down. You walked around slowly, savoring the last of moments inside. Every room you were in, you remembered something good or bad that happened. Every moment of passionate love making, every laugh, every argument, every cry, every kiss. You would be forever grateful in in experiencing these things because without it, you weren’t sure how strong you’d be compared to now.
You heard the small beep of the alarm unlocking and the front door opening. You swallowed down a small, nervous breath and nodded to yourself. Everything’s going to be okay, you thought. You entered the large dining room where the three stood. Jim looked defeated, Duncan looked confused, and Michael... he looked broken.
“We saw your car...” Duncan began, but Jim cut him off instantly.
“Where are you going?” He mumbled softly and took a tiny step forward, shuffling his feet side to side, not knowing what to do in this moment.
“Um... I’m leaving,” you quietly told them. “I did a lot of thinking these passed two months and I’ve come to a realization that I’m not cut out for this.” Michael opened his mouth to speak up, but you held a hand out to silence him. “Listen to me, please. I loved you, all of you. I loved and I gave and I was taken for granted. And the only person to build myself back up again was... me.”
“Why are you talking like this so suddenly?” Michael spoke up, brows furrowing as he struggled to understand your words.
“I saw what happened, at the party. And I know that, maybe, I wasn’t someone you wanted and I know how difficult I can be and I know I have some unresolved issues I need to work on to become better,” your voice cracked and you sniffled as your looked down at your hands with blurry eyes. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”
“No,” Duncan whispered brokenly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He angrily shook his head, eyes blazing with a building rage. “You-You can’t leave.”
“Duncan,” you whispered softly and stepped up to him, resting your hands on his scruffy cheeks as a lonesome tear rolls down, pooling over your thumbs. “I have to go. You have to let me go.”
He shook his head as the dam finally breaks. “No...” His voice was completely broken, eyes filled with so much pain and anger. “Please...”
You stepped away and sniffled. You looked over at Jim and gave him a sad smile. His bottom lip was trembling so badly that he had to bite down on it to make it stop. He was rubbing the back of his neck continuously, a tell tale sign of frustration and panic.
“Jimmy,” you quietly said. “You’re gonna have to let me go as well, okay? Can you do that for me?”
He shook his head and exhaled a shuddering breath. “I-I can’t... I...” He couldn’t even speak. He just stared at you in desperation, wishing and hoping that you’d change your mind and stay with them like you all promised.
And finally, you looked at Michael - the first man you ever loved and who introduced you to Duncan and Jim. You would forever be thankful that you had the opportunity to fall in love with these men, but sadly, these opportunities must come to an end.
“What can I do to make things right, dove?” He begged, something he’s never done before and it’s such a shock to you. “Tell me what to do.”
“There’s nothing that can be done to make things right, Michael,” you told him gently as you shook your head. “I think this was the final straw that I really needed to get out, and I really hope that you all have a good life ahead of you. I love you and I always will love you deep down in my heart, and I’ll never forget you three.” You gave them a sad smile. “I guess this is goodbye,” your voice cracked just a little bit.
You looked at them one last time before moving through the hallway and towards the front door. You swung the strap of your bag around your shoulder and dug inside for your keys. You pulled out the house key from the ring and placed it on the small table that had a stack of mail, a little bowl with Jim and Duncan’s keys, a long vase with lilies - your favorite flower, and a picture. It was of you, Duncan, Jim, and Michael the minute you all had moved in. There were bright smiles on your faces, even Michael. Things were so much better back then; when things were simpler. You heard faint crying coming from the dining room, and you wondered who it was, if you should go back to console them. But you knew if you did, you would stay.
As you left the house, you studied it with a small smile. You’ll never forget the endless memories inside and out. This wasn’t just a house, it was a home. “Goodbye, home,” you whispered and placed your hand on the banister.
After the long days of being so alone, the pain ebbed. You thought you would feel the knives in your back forever, the long blades slicing into such sensitive flesh. There were days your brain felt electrocuted, so violently defocused and the pain, the emotional pain, was all so encompassing you simply existed as a matter of will power. They say people come out of these things stronger, and you guess that's true, but you come out wiser too. You still have your loving heart, you’re proud to say. You still have your idealism and courage. You still take forward leaps whether you can see the ground or not. But this heart, it's not for everyone, it's not for the ones who threw the knives.
But this? This isn’t the end. It’s the start of a new chapter. You’re not sure where you’ll end up, but you’re sure you’ll pass the next level. Alone or not.
#OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING BROKE ME#i had so much fun writing this#thank you so much to the anon that requested it#i’m not sure if this is a happy ending oorrrr????#i love angst#more angsty foursome#michael x duncan x jim x reader
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You (yes YOU) are perfect
Been a bit down about the state of my bod of late - I call it the 20lbs of 2020 😩😩
Of all our boys, we all know daddy Clyde loves a thiccccc woman, those curves do some thannnnnngs for him sis.
So here is a wee fic for those moments of self-consciousness. And also smut cause it me.
Clyde x Reader
Warnings: self-conscious reader, NSFW, mild Daddy kink, mild breeding kink, mention of pregnancy.
You were having one of those days. Everything looked awful on you, to the point where you felt like crying. It was just a family gathering, nothing fancy, but everything you tried on made you feel worse than the previous.
“Darlin’ what’s takin’ so long, we gotta go!?” Clyde called down the hallway.
When you didn’t reply his heavy footsteps told you he was coming to investigate.
He stood in the doorway, looking between the pile of clothes on the bed and you, in only your lingerie, looking crestfallen.
“Sweethear’ what’s wrong?” His voice was so gentle, so concerned that tears started leaking, running down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry… honey.” You sniffled hastily wiping away the tears.
“Talk to yer’ Daddy.” He soothed, taking a seat on the bed.
“I just…. I feel…. fat, I feel so fucking fat.” A fresh wave of tears running down your face.
Clyde looked shocked, then angry.
“Did someone say something’ to you darlin’?! Tell me who it was!” He clenched his fists, standing up as if he was about to march out the door and deal to whoever it was.
“No, honey, no no! No one said anything, I’m just being silly.” You said quickly, reaching up and placing your hands on his shoulders reassuringly, “I swear.”
He searched your face, searching for any hint you were lying. Seemingly convinced you weren’t, he sat back down.
“Darlin’ what’s all this ‘bout? Ya know I think you are goddamn beautiful.” He said gently, cupping your face and wiping your tears away with his thumbs.
“I know Clyde, you’re so good to me honey, I just-, I, well, you know, all these girls like Mellie, so slim and beautiful. You could have anyone you wanted, you’re so handsome and-”
He cut you off with a finger on your lips.
“Girls like Mellie?” He snorted, “ain’t got no meat on them, like goddamn bean poles!”
You couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Now I dunno if ya looked in the mirror lately darlin’ but ya way out of my league, I’ve been punchin’ above my weight since the day I laid eyes on ya, everybody says so.”
“They do?”
“Specially Mellie, she told me when I met ya that I better lock ya down before you realise I was a dumb, one armed red neck .” His eyes crinkled as he grinned at you.
You laughed.
“That’s better.” He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.
“Thank you.” You whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’ apologise darlin’, I get down on myself too sometimes, ya know that.”
You nodded into his chest, feeling safe as his large arms wrapped around you.
��
Clyde paid special attention to you all day.
Whispering in your ear how pretty you looked, his hand never far from your own, or the small of your back.
By the time you got home, you had all but forgotten your meltdown that morning. However it was still clearly at the forefront of Clyde’s mind as he cornered you after your shower, wrapped in only a towel.
“Don’t bother puttin’ ya jammies on darlin’, I need to show ya how perfect your body is to me.” He murmured.
The sentiment was enough to make your eyes prickle with tears of pure affection and overwhelming love.
This man. This man.
He sat on the edge of the bed, much like he had that morning, pulling you in so you stood between his thick thighs.
“Show me that body.” His voice gruff, eyes glinting as he unwrapped your towel.
His adoring gaze traveled slowly down, feasting on every curve, every swell and valley.
His hand came to rest on your hip, “ya know what these are?” He murmured, tracing the curve of each hip, one at a time.
“Mmm?”
“Child-bearin’ hips.”
You hummed softly, raking your hand through his hair as he began to kiss along your shoulder and up your neck.
“An’ one day daddy’s gonna put them to use.” Clyde drawled in your ear, “daddy’s gon’ put a baby in ya belly, would ya like that darlin’?”
You squirmed, his words lighting a raging fire of lust in the pit of your stomach.
“Yeah, yes I would.” You breathed.
He growled, taking one of your ample breasts in his hand and latching onto your nipple.
Gasping as his tongue flicked and mouth sucked, you fumbled with his shirt buttons, desperate to not be the only one naked.
You succeeded in getting the shirt open, before mounting his denim clad thigh in desperation, grinding hard in search of relief.
Pulling off your nipple with a pop, Clyde silently maneuvered you so you were lying on the bed, butt on the edge.
You watched, quivering in anticipation as he hoisted your legs over his shoulders, gazing at your glistening wet pussy as if it were his favorite meal.
“Darlin’.... Jesus.”
He dove in. Mouth hungrily lapping. You cursed under your breath. His tongue assaulting your clit with enthusiasm.
A single thick finger prodded at your entrance, you bucked your hips impatiently.
“Ugh, hnnnnghhoneyplease!” You pleaded, longing for the fullness only he could provide.
Not one to deny you anything he pressed in one, then another in quick succession, expertly finding your most sensitive spot.
You whimpered, writhing in ecstasy as a tidal wave of pleasure crashed over you. Clyde moaned into your cunt as you climaxed, your inner walls clenching his fingers.
He stripped hurriedly as you lay boneless, you watched shamelessly as his cock was freed from the confines of his jeans. It bobbed, large and flush, intensifying the throb of your freshly mauled cunt.
“Stay there.” Clyde ordered as he kicked off his jeans.
He grabbed your legs and pressed them firmly to the left hand side of his chest. He used his left upper arm, free of his prosthetic, to pin them in place.
He cursed as he pushed into your wet heat, the position of your legs making you almost impossibly tight.
“Christ almighty.” He huffed, “pussy stranglin’ me darlin’.”
Clyde eyes rolled back in bliss as he began to piston his hips, skin slapping rhythmically.
“FeelsogoodClydehoneybabygodyoufeelsobig!” You babbled praise, hardly aware of what you were saying as his cock pounded you, reaching so deep it was almost too much.
His fingers sunk into the soft flesh of your hip, attempting to hold you in place. Your hands gripped the bed sheets, breast bouncing with force of his thrusts.
His eyes were transfixed on your tits, you arched your back giving him an even better view as they jiggled violently from his ploughing hips.
“Touch yourself, darlin’.. not gonna’ last.” His voice was ragged and strained as he tried to control his impending release.
It didn’t take more than a few circles of your sensitive bud to have you on the verge of climax.
“S’it darlin’ cum on daddy’s cock, good girl.” Clyde panted.
And you did. Hard. Loud.
Clyde’s rhythm stalled as your cunt squeezed his cock, encouraging him to cum.
He managed a few more half-hearted thrusts before crumpling over your body and emptying inside you.
—-
#clyde logan x reader#clyde logan#logan lucky#if you ain’t gonna love yourself how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else#I am predictable#it’s my brand ok
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