#i hate biting my tongue but i am running out of energy to fight with randos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeoldontknow · 3 years ago

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the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere ❂ To The Lighthouse ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly and @kithtaehyung for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once.

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him.

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture.

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply.

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes.

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity.

In Hoseok, you see it all.

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness.

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic.

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted.

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly.

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid.

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything.

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun.

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice.

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores.

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek.

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks.

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving.

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you.

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend.

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them.

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever.

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink.

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found.

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement.

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him.

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him.

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok.

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart.

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone.

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers.

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive.

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth.

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible.

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle.

‘Hoseok!’

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity.

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need.

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony.

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees.

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving.

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought.

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him.

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose.

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core.

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible.

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you.

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core.

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head.

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care.

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root.

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention.

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion.

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt.

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught.

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline.

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough.

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more.

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking.

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret.

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you.

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you.

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always.

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits.

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible.

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence.

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him.

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse.

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside.

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless.

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him.

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry.

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child.

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose.

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you.

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky.

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form.

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too.

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools.

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer.

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you.

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving.

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness.

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more.

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear.

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor.

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt.

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him.

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you.

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity.

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up.

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing.

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you.

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same.

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him.

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure.

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered.

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding.

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you.

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention.

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain.

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

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dr4cking · 3 years ago

Text

His Mother’s Garden.

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draco malfoy x reader | smut | enemies to lovers

a/n : this is so random bye :”

"y/n, come down here for a minute, darling. i have something to tell you" y/n sighed slowly getting up from her lovely bed as she heard her mom called her to come downstairs.

"yes, mother?" her mom greeted y/n with a big smile while her father sitting on the couch, y/n feels like she was going to be interrogated, she grabbed a bottle of water and drink.

"sweetie go pack your stuff and dress nicely, we're going to stay at Malfoy Manor for 3 days." she felt as if her breath got taken away somewhere when she choked on the water, her mother worriedly run to her and smack her back.

"pardon me, mother. but i think i've misheard about what you just said" y/n's mother just chuckled at her daughter's reaction.

"no darling, you heard it right, we're going to stay at their place"

"but why so sudden, mother? you know i hate their son" y/n whines loudly thinking about how awkward it is to spend the day with the malfoys.

"well i met narcissa earlier in gringgots, its been so so long, you know we're very close when we were young, and your dad here is working at the ministry with lucius malfoy too, darling. so we really have to catch up" her mother explained it with her bubbly energy, she did tell y/n how she and narcissa were basically best friends in their time.

"but why do we have to literally stay there? we could've just hung out there and then go back home" y/n frowns, taking a seat beside her father.

"of course not, narcissa is the one who suggested the idea and it would be rude of me to reject it, now dont be a baby and do as i say its only for three days, honey. this is the end of the discussion or we're gonna be late" her mother cupped her cheeks smiling so wide and give her a little kiss on her right cheek before taking her hand and shoved her to go back to her room.

she goes to her room, started to packing while blabbering about her mother, she picked a pleated skirt and putting on a knit sweater, she put on a light makeup and grabbed her sneakers, she doesnt want to dress up so much because she didnt want to go in the first place.

she takes her bag with her going downstairs seeing her parents already waiting at the front door, she huffed.

——————————————

"ah, finally the (your surname)'s here! y/m/n, who is this lovely lady, is this y/n? oh my god, you've grown up" narcissa said as she hugs y/n after she hugged her mother greeting her family, y/n smiles and nod turning the gesture politely.

"lucius, draco! hurry, come here."

both of the platinum blonde-haired men appeared at the door, lucius greet y/n's father, giving y/n a small nod, but draco stayed behind his parents, just looking up and down at y/n smirking making her rolled her eyes at him.

the malfoys lead her family in, showing their room for their stay, the house elves taking their things. as y/n wanted to follow her parents, a hand grabbed her wrist stopping her steps.

she looks up only to meet the boy she loathed so much in their school. draco lucius malfoy.

"not so fast y/l/n" draco pulled her closer, a smirk still plastered on his lips.

"get your filthy hand off of me, ferret. i’m not in the mood." y/n snickered yanking her hand back.

"ooo, feisty. listen y/n, i just want to make a peace for awhile. at least can we try to be civil? i dont want to ruin our parent's moment, and besides that, you're staying in my house, i dont want it to be awkward." draco rubbed the back of his neck staring at her.

"ugh fine, whatever draco" y/n turns and run to follow her parents not wanting to talk to draco for any longer, leaving draco behind who just rolled his eyes at her behavior.

the day goes on so fast, their parents talked and chatted all day, leaving draco and y/n no choice but just to listened and joined their conversation, they both wonder if their parents ever get tired, as the night finally came, everyone already going to their rooms.

y/n wake up from her sleep groaning, she took a look at the clock, it was 2 am.

she rubbed her eyes, her throat feels so dry, she decided to go downstairs to grab a drink before going back to sleep.

"what are you doing at this hour, y/n?" y/n turns around from the refrigerator finding draco who stood behind her with his grey sweatpants. merlin's beard, he looks hot.

"cant you see im drinking, idiot"

y/n close the refrigerator and started to walk back to her room wanting to avoid draco as fast as she can but she only made three steps before draco pushed her against the refrigerator trapping her making y/n let out a squeal.

"you’ve got a big mouth, dont you sweet thing?" draco smirk seeing her flushed face, he pressed his body closer to her making her cheeks heated.

"d-draco i-"

"sshh, cat got your tongue now, hm?" draco rubbed his thumb on her bottom lip, tugging at it making y/n shivered at his touch.

"oh i see you like this, yeah?" draco leans into the crook of her neck, his hot breaths against her neck got y/n to rub her thighs together and draco placed his knee between them keeping her thighs apart.

he starts to pressed kisses along her neck causing her breath hitched, her panties are dampen when she takes a look at his lower part and his hard on brushed against her heat, she let out a soft moan and quickly pushed draco away from her.

"i- i should go" y/n runs to her room, cursing herself, draco behind her just chuckled deeply, satisfied at her reaction, but now he got some problem to take care of.

the next day came, y/n didnt get so much sleep after her last interaction with draco, just thinking about it makes a blush appeared on her cheeks, she threw away the thought of touching herself last night.

she quickly made her way to the bathroom and took a shower.

she just finished showering, putting on a bathrobe and letting off the towel on her head, but as she looked at the mirror, she screamed.

why is her hair green?!

only one name crossed her mind, she runs downstairs to get her target with anger bubbling up inside her.

"draco lucius malfoy! you better come back here! turn my fucking hair back to its color!" y/n yelled, running as fast as she can, catching draco who already ran away from her, without stopping his laughter.

"dont worry y/n, you look good with g-green" draco was panting heavily still laughing, he was still running but stopped at his mother's garden hiding behind it, hoping that y/n didnt catch him here. a smile never leaving his face.

but before draco could react more, he got tackled to the ground, y/n was hovering above him, her wand on his throat, threatening him.

she keeps talking but all he could think about was how hot y/n look on top of him, her new hair color still wet enough to drip the water down to his face, her top of the robe is low enough to show him her cleavage.

he quickly made his eyes back up to her, he would lie if he said this didnt turn him on.

"draco did you hear what i said? turn my hair color back!" y/n pushed his chest back down but her face redden as she realizes what was she doing right now, she quickly gets off of draco but only to be flipped over by him.

y/n was about to say something but got cut off by draco silencing her mouth with a kiss, he kissed her harshly, y/n was still in shock but not for long she melted into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss, they're practically swallowing each other faces, tongues fighting over the dominance, moans coming off from their lips without breaking the kiss.

memories of last night coming back to their minds.

"fuck- you're so fucking hot. do you want this y/n?" draco said as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"yes, yes please, draco" with that, draco attached his lips to her neck, sucking and biting making a mark of his.

y/n rolled her hips on his crotch grinding against him making him let out a soft grunt, he pulls away to admire his work and he goes to untie her robe but not before he asked her permission, she nodded vigorously.

draco untied her robe making her body fully exposed in front of him, he moaned softly at the view and his lips instantly latching onto her nipple sucking and pulling it between his teeth softly making the girl squirmed. his other hand grabbed her breast squeezing it, he was amazed at how her breast fit perfectly in his hand.

y/n tugged at his shirt signaling she wants it off, draco gets the hint and takes it off, she pulled his sweatpants down making his hard cock slapped up to his stomach. she whimpered at his size wondering if it gonna fits in her.

draco groaned at the feeling of her hand pumping his cock up and down, her thumb playing at his red swollen tip, precum already oozing out of it. he stopped her hand before he cums right there.

he spreads her legs wider making the perfect view of her glistening cunt in front of him, he licks his lip, started to kiss her thighs before going to her core making her body jolted out.

"draco.. please, do something" draco smirk, he loves how he gets y/n to beg him, she sounds so hot, begging suited her.

he licked up her slit before sucking on her clit, he moaned at her taste, sending vibrations to her body, y/n gripped his hair tightly moaning his name over and over again as draco's tongue thrusting in and out of her hole.

he then inserts two fingers in her and pumping them inside of her fast, curling them inside, his tongue still licking her cunt lapping up her juices, y/n already a moaning mess.

"yes! draco right there! right fucking there.. oh god im gonna-"

of course.

of course he pulled out, right before y/n could ever reach her high leaving her whining and glared at him in anger, draco chuckles looking at her face.

"stop being so fucking greedy, y/n. you only allowed to cum when my cock is buried deep inside you" draco pumps his cock tapping it against her cunt, lining his tip up and down at her clit, y/n gets impatient but draco pushed her hips down to stop her from moving.

he slowly pushed in his entire length inside her, both of them cant help but moaning each other’s name out loud, inch by inch filling her inside. draco stopped to let her adjust as he fully inside her. he wants her to feel every part of him. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, nodding at him to move.

"god- you're so tight y/n, i cant barely move. do you know how long i've been wanting to have you under me" draco's breath tickling her neck as he buried his face on her neck, slowly picking up his pace as he thrusts in and out of her.

"yes- fuck.. harder draco i want it rough and fast, please" draco was shocked at how y/n think her tight little pussy could take him rough and fast, but he obeyed anyway.

he grabbed her legs, putting them on his shoulder and begin to thrusting harder, rough and fast like she wanted making her cried out at the angle.

"fuck! you're such a slut y/n, letting me fuck you senseless in my mother's garden, dont you scared at the thought of getting caught, hm? oh i bet you would love that, right?" y/n only could mutter a low 'yes' as draco keep pounding at inhumanly pace making her whole body shake.

"what is it? i cannot hear you, my little slut" draco gripped her throat with his hand, pressing their foreheads together as he stared deeply into her soul not even stopping his thrusts.

"y- yes draco im your slut, i'd love tha- g- god please.."

"stop stuttering." draco's hand move down to twirling her nipples in his fingers and pinch them lightly making her yelp.

"draco?"

draco and y/n stopped their activities for a minute, staring at each other in horror, draco smirk down at her while she stared at him in confusion.

he starts to move again, snapping his hips harder, making y/n gasped, he quickly put his hand over her mouth. draco was thankful that the bushes hiding their ungodly activities perfectly.

"yes, mother?" draco said casually as if nothing was happening right now, he quickens his thrust, going deeper and harder into her while a tear rolled down on y/n's face at the feeling of the knot in her stomach tighten and she had to hold her moans.

"what are you doing there, draco?" narcissa asked as she cant found her son anywhere, only hearing his voice.

"im doing some school stuff mother, i'll be quick and head inside" draco answers holding his moans between his words feeling he would cum any sooner, he hoped his mother take the hint and leave already.

like draco expected, narcissa gives him an 'okay' before going back inside the manor but not without the hesitation in her voice but she left anyway.

"fuck.. you almost got us caught y/n" draco chuckles as his hand left her mouth, a loud moan suddenly escaped her lips.

"you're insane draco, why didnt you s- stop- oh my god.. gonna cum"

y/n cried out she cant even finishing her sentence as draco brings his hand down on her clit, rubbing in circles, getting her closer to her high, his other hand going back to choking her, he leaned in to capture her lips to hold his own high, he wanted her to cum first.

and within seconds, y/n came undone, it hit her hard causing her legs to shake, her eyes screwed shut seeing the stars all she could remember was his name when she moaned it out loud.

draco look down at his cock covered with her juices milking him, he moaned loudly and with the last thrust he collapsed on her, spurting out all of his warm thick cum inside her, painting her walls white making the girl moaned too feeling so full.

he moaned her name into her ear sending butterflies to her stomach as he rides out their orgasms. draco pulled out slowly making y/n winced, their mixed liquids dripping down to their inner thighs.

"merlin. that was so fucking hot, y/n" draco said reconnecting their lips, kissing her with passion and emotion this time.

"that was more than being civil, draco" y/n laughs making draco join her laughter too. he starts to dressed himself back up.

"there i thought we were enemies" draco said as he cleaned her up and tying her bathrobe back.

"oh we are, i still hate you" y/n poked his cheek making draco laughed.

"didnt seem like it 5 minutes ago" draco said as he captures her lips on his again as he finished cleaning her.

"round 2 in my room tonight?" draco asks as he pulled away. y/n smirked at him.

"only if you turn my hair color back" and he pulls out his wand from his pocket and swished it turning her hair back to its natural color.

both of them heading back to the manor, feeling excited and new. they stopped at their parents already waiting for them to show up in the living room with a mix expressions worn on their faces making draco and y/n blushed madly.

"im glad we decided to stay." y/n's mother breaking the silence making the room filled with laughter.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum :( @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @youreso-golden @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @arzfia @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco oneshot #draco fanfiction #draco smut #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Note

okay!! so maybe even a short imagine about Harry and y/n getting in a full brown fight because his cockiness (this man is so cocky I can’t) anyway- it’s driving her insane! You can have it go any way you want! Just an idea hehe ;) xx P.s. I ❤️ ur writing

a/n: i’ve been trying to come up with an idea for this one and then i thought about this little something and typed it out, hope you’ll like it!

word count: 1135

masterlist

You love Harry. You really do. But sometimes… you need to remind yourself about that. A lot. Like when he just doesn’t know when to stop, when you’ve had enough and he is just pushing it further and further until you wish he would just…you are not saying that out.

Tonight is one of those times. You’ve had a long day, your boss has been up in your ass way too far and you had to deal with some incompetent colleagues and you just ran out of patience by the time you got home. For your luck, Harry, your boyfriend of three years chose today to bring some extra cockiness into his attitude.

As the two of you head out to meet a few friends, you try your best to keep your cool as he has a whitty comeback to everything you say. Nothing slips by him without a comment or a snarky remark and it just keeps you boiling more and more. You know he doesn’t mean in a wrong way, it’s just how he is sometimes, when he is so high on energy, when he’s had a particularly good day so he is feeling confident in his skin. It’s all just jokes, but you can’t really laugh at them when you’ve been through such a rough day and you just want to be… left alone.

Sitting at the bar you’re sipping on your drink, hoping the alcohol is gonna loosen you up a bit. Harry is in his element, joking around, dropping his usual sarcastic comments, being his cocky self that you’d adore any other day, but not tonight.

“Y/N, are you sure everything’s alright?” Sarah questions when she notices that you’ve been staying quiet for a while, but it’s all because you’re biting your tongue so you don’t start a fight with Harry.

“I’m fine,” you force a smile to your face, taking another sip from your vodka cranberry, that’s got way more vodka than cranberry juice.

“Have another drink, babe. Don’t be shy,” Harry comments, giving your thigh a squeeze, but you pull away, brushing his hand off of yourself. It seems to give him a warning sign, he eyes you curiously, trying to find out what’s wrong, but you keep your stare at the table in front of you, ignoring him.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby?” he asks lowering his voice so only you can hear him talk.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You definitely don’t seem fine,” he chuckles lightly, but it’s the last straw for you.

“And what are you gonna do about that, have another cocky comment about me? You seem to have many of those today,” you growl under your breath, finishing your drink. “Excuse me,” you mumble before sliding out of your seat and heading out to the back terrace to have some fresh air before you jump at Harry’s throat.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t let you have a moment to you, he follows right behind, standing tall in front of you as you lean against the brick wall.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What did I do?” he asks, seemingly genuinely worried about your odd behavior.

“I’m just… fucking done with you right now, okay?” “Would you tell me why?”

“Stop nagging me, Harry!” you snap at him, desperately needing to get away from him before you blow up.

“I will if you fucking talk to me!”

“You are driving me fucking crazy, today!” you growl rolling your eyes. “You are commenting on everything I do, making jokes of everything I say, being this cocky fucker and I just can’t tolerate this right now!”

You are raging. And you’re not too proud of the way you just snapped at him, but you just can’t help it. He came onto you and brought it to himself.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me to stop then? Am I supposed to read your mind?!”

“No! But you are supposed to… read the signs!”

“What signs?!” he asks with a dry laugh. “You haven’t really talked to me much since you’ve gotten home, how am I supposed to know what’s wrong?!”

“That’s the sign, Harry! No talking is a sign!” you almost scream at him. “Jesus, you make me so fucking mad!” you groan, feeling the tears forming in your eyes. You’re tired, had enough and you can’t control your emotions any longer. You hate it, but crying comes to you way too easy in situations like this. You make an attempt to walk past him, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back while you’re already trying to swallow your tears, with not much success.

“Hey, hey, hey. Come on, don’t just walk away,” he starts in a way more soothing tone. His hands slide down to your hands, bringing them up to your mouth as he kisses your knuckles. “I’m sorry, okay? Just please talk to me.”

“I just…” you breathe out shakily. “I had a bad day and your snarky comments and cocky remarks didn’t help, alright?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me to stop? I would never do anything to upset you on purpose.”

“I… don’t know. Thought you’d read the room and just stop,” you shrug, though you know you’re at blame here as well. Should have told him straightforward that you are not up for his funny little games.

“Baby, you know how much I suck at reading those so called signs,” he breathes out, gently cupping your face in the palm of his hand. “I’m a man, we are dumb. Just tell me to fuck off next time and I’ll know my place.”

You chuckle lightly as he pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he rocks the two of you from side to side, running his hands up and down on your back in a soothing manner.

“I’m sorry. I’ll keep my mouth shut now. Do you want to go back or want to go home?”

“I don’t want to be the party pooper. Let’s stay,” you mumble into his chest.

“Let’s have another drink and then we head home, how does that sound?”

“Good,” you nod pulling back from him. Leaning down he kisses you softly, his fingers dance down your neck, tickling a bit that makes you giggle.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” he smirks, pecking your smiling lips shortly. “You still hate me for being a cocky asshole?” he asks teasingly.

“I never hated you.”

“Yeah? So you still love me?” Nuzzling his nose against yours, his lips are brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Mhm,” you nod, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Can you say it for me? I want to hear it.”

“I love you,” you mumble into his lips, kissing him with a relieved sigh.

“Love you too.”

#harry #Anonymous #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Text

hi! please do not talk to me! i am just as disappointed in myself as you are!

arrangement - naoya x fem!reader (3.7k)

warnings: naoya is just an asshole lmao, misogyny, arranged marriage mentions, degradation, humiliation, spitting, unhealthy ‘relationship’. afab reader, fem pronouns

despite your clan elders’ best intentions, you are clearly not a good match for someone as well placed in the world as naoya. still. that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun with you.

You should have known that it was a fruitless endeavour.

No matter how nicely your hair might be set and your clothes might be chosen, how intricately and carefully your makeup applied – how pretty your manners might be . . . This was never going to go anywhere. Oh, your elders might have thought this was a good idea, and sure it would be – if it were possible. If your clan wasn’t hanging on by the skin of its teeth already. If you’d been blessed – if that was the right way to put it – with more cursed energy than you had been.

But you were not. It had been clear to you the moment you had been – cordially, politely – introduced to him. You hadn’t looked him in the eye – you’d been briefed on what he was like enough to know that – but you’d still sensed the flickering of his gaze over your form. You’d still seen the curve of his mouth into a cruel sneer.

“What a pity,” he’d said, tone not belying an ounce of the pity he mentioned. “I’m far too busy for acts of charity.”

You should have left it at that. You should have accepted it was not to be and went back to your own clan with your tail between your legs, just another failure – or perhaps, you should have looked up into his eyes and spat at him and insisted you were worth more than that. If you had been braver, if you had talked back--

But you do not. Inside, you are meek and quiet. You are cowed by what you know is the power that is at his fingertips, not just physically but also in the sheer luck of having been born as he was born. You duck your head. You feel your cheeks warm. Something about the sneer on his face, the mocking tone . . . sends a curl of heat right to the centre of your belly that you desperately try to ignore.

Tripping over your words, you apologise to him.

For wasting his time.

And it’s that which sets these particular events in motion.

Naoya sees how easily you bend under just his words and the weight of his gaze on you – and though, of course, you are not fit to be his wife the way that your clan elders clearly wanted you to be . . . he likes the idea of your eyes, downturned on the floor. He likes the idea of you on your knees before him. He likes the idea of being able to throw you around, and you, deferential as you take it.

No, even though you would walk three steps behind him and be behest to his whims, you lack the impressive lineage and the splendour of a great union that Naoya is looking for in a wife. But that does not mean, he thinks, as he watches you leave, his eyes following the suggestive curve of your body beneath the layers of fabric, that he cannot have a little fun with you first.

You come to his rooms without an ounce of hesitation. You must know, surely – after the way he treated you at your introduction – that he has no pure intentions. Certainly, the servants milling about his estate know as you’re shown to where he wants you.

Good. Your eager acquiescence just cements the fact to him that he has made the right decision; you will be weak-willed and desperate to please, and though he has no intentions of honour when it comes to what he’s going to do to you, he knows you will do it anyway.

“You came,” he says to you, as you stand across the room, where he’s lounging, entirely at ease, against the pillows on his bed. Your entire body fizzes. You know you should not be here.

(There is something about him that your body cannot deny.)

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a whore.” You flinch at the word, though that strange curl of heat returns to your middle. You fight it off as best you can. He sees how you swallow, the way you respond to the name – and he is smirking again, rising from the pillows, walking over to you with all of the grace of a predator. His fingertips reach out, tracing the line of your chin (your skin is pleasingly soft beneath them). “That’s what you are, right? Your clan elders sent you here to see if that’s what you’d be for me.”

He tips up your face. It’s the first time that your eyes have been anywhere near his, and he’s delighted to see the flair of panic and confusion in your gaze. Cute.

“That’s not—” You say, your voice very dry. You struggle with the words, knowing despite yourself that part of him must be right – if you were not, surely it wouldn’t have been as simple as him summoning you and you going there--

“You can’t honestly think you’d have made me a wife, hmm?” He lowers his head, too close to you – your entire body feels like it’s thrumming with energy, buzzing with unrestrained tension. “You’re pathetic.” The word is practically a purr, and your body responds in kind – Naoya, seeing how your eyes cloud over, how you have to stop yourself biting your lip, is delighted.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, desperate, miserable. You don’t understand why your thighs feel slick and your legs feel shaky, or why your head seems to have clouded over with thoughts that refuse to take proper shape.

“Aww.” His thumb slides across your lip – and you find yourself opening your mouth without meaning to, letting him slide the tip of his thumb in and press down on your tongue. “That’s right. You’re cuter when you don’t talk.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure you could, anyway – not with how dry your throat feels. Naoya clicks his tongue.

“Suck it, then,” he tells you, with the air of an impatient man giving orders to a puppy dog. You suppose that’s what you are, really – because you do close your lips, and you do lathe your tongue across the pad of his thumb. He’s still smirking at you, damnably attractive if only for the air of self-assured cockiness. “You’ll want to get used to having something in your mouth.”

His other hand comes up and pushes the kimono you’re wearing (too formal of a kind, really – but your clan elders had wanted to show deference to the Zenins, and they had hoped that perhaps you would be meeting your future husband, and everybody knew that Naoya would prefer a traditional young bride--) to one side, exposing too much of your collarbone and chest.

“Not bad,” he tells you. “Not good enough for me, of course but . . . you’ll do for this.”

You hate that you know what ‘this’ is. You hate that you have no protest to give as he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and turns his back on you.

“Take them off,” he tells you. “Be quick about it. I don’t have all day. Women can be so slow.”

Your hands are shaking as you go to untie your obi. Your self-preservation instinct is telling you to run. Naoya stops where he is and turns his head, his lips still tilted as he sees you’re doing as he asked. Oh, but you’re fun – he feels like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Hurry. Up.” It’s a snap, all pretence – he’s rather enjoying the shaking and the trembling. He can’t help but look at you hungrily as the fabric pools about your ankles in your clumsy undressing. “Before I change my mind, and send you back out into the estate like that.”

Why are you still doing what he asks? You finish undressing and shiver in the cool air, standing there, waiting for whatever he’s going to tell you to do next.

He reaches the bed and turns, sitting on it. He’s entirely casual about the whole thing, his elbows resting on his knees as he steeples his hands together and just looks at you. You burn under his gaze.

“Yes,” he repeats. “You’ll do. Come here--”

You take a step forward, only to stop as he holds up his hand. He takes the patient tone of a man talking to an animal once more.

“Not like that. Think about it, come on. Your head is above mine. That’s not very respectful of you, is it?”

He swathes the words in velvet, making them sound like a question – but you can hear the steel inside of them. The order. He doesn’t need to tell you twice, before you’re sinking onto your knees with your throat dry. Your thighs press together, slick friction making you shiver as you crawl towards Naoya. He tips his head to one side and smiles coldly as if his smile is a reward.

(He watches the way your ass moves as you crawl. He can hear your laboured breathing in the quiet room. In the low glint of the light, he can see the hint of wetness between your thighs.)

You’re so eager to please, even knowing that Naoya is going to use you and discard you. Just as you should be. You feel lucky he’s giving you the briefest time of day.

“Stop,” he says, and you jump to his command as if it’s law. Perfect. He takes a handful of your hair and drags it, pulling you forward so that your face is close to the stiffness that you probably can’t tell he’s sporting through the loose fit of his hakama. He jerks your face so that it rubs against his thigh through the fabric. “Well?”

The bob of your throat as you swallow. You look up at him with your eyes filled with confusion.

“As much as the position suits you,” he says, tone clipped, “are you so stupid you don’t know what I want you to do?”

Oh. Oh.

You are still on your hands and knees. You go to bring one of your hands towards the ties and are stopped with a ‘tch’ of impatience, Naoya kicking at it and trapping it beneath his foot on the floor, with little care about how you wince. He doesn’t hold back his strength.

“You’re going to touch me with that after it’s been all over the filthy floor?” He asks, arching one thin eyebrow. “I don’t think so. If you’re going to be as gormless as an animal, you may as well act like one. Your cheek.”

Heat floods your cheeks once more as you realise what he wants. By now, the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making you wet has become all encompassing, not at all helped by the friction of your thighs or the way that Naoya is talking down to you. You should not be turned on by it. You should be disgusted by him, glad he doesn’t want you as a wife--

So why do you let out a soft whimper as you lean your cheek forward like a docile animal. It presses against something hot and hard, obvious even through the fabric. You don’t let yourself look at him, embarrassed by how easily you let him tell you what to do – if you were looking, perhaps you’d have seen the brief way his teeth dug into bottom lip, seen the softest exhale of his breath. (It’s better you didn’t. He does not like to show weakness.)

He lets you nuzzle against his cock for a few moments, enjoying the sight of you on your knees, your head bowed – but it is not enough for him. Not when he knows you’ll let him do whatever you want.

The hand still in your hair drags you back unfeelingly, letting go of you on the back swing. You almost overbalance – but you have been well-trained in the art of grace. That would have been something he’d have looked for in a wife, if you had been better placed.

Almost a pity, really.

“I’d ask you to undo it,” he says, as he goes to untie his own complicated knots. “But you’re shaking. Are you that eager to suck my cock? Slut.”

He’s right, you are and you are and you are--

There. There’s no going back for you now, as Naoya lets the hakama drop and then rests back on his hands, unconcerned, as if this kind of thing happens for him every day. Hell, for him, maybe it does – surely you’re not the first poor young woman who has been sent by people more powerful than her to try and please the Zenin clan. For some reason, the thought that you’re not the first, that you’re not special, makes another ricochet of heat twist low between your thighs.

“Well?” He asks, mockingly. “It’s not going to suck itself.”

You’re shaking as you approach it, opening your mouth.

“Not too much teeth, now,” he says lightly. “You don’t want to see me get angry.”

(Maybe you do? But you want to please him just as much, so you open your mouth wider, try and let your lips relax--)

He lets out a sigh as your mouth engulfs the head. He tastes salty and musky – you do not have anything to compare it to, but it’s not exactly unpleasant. You experimentally lick across the head of his cock, where the slit is leaking pre-come – and for that, you win a fluid hiss of pleasure. The idea that you’re pleasing him makes you squeeze your thighs together in search of stimulation and friction, a dull jolt of pleasant warmth spreading through your sex. Oh, you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life.

“More of your tongue,” he says to you, and you do your level best to accommodate – your tongue lapping at the veins of his shaft, travelling along the underside. Your jaw feels stretched wide, and you know you are drooling a little. You shift on your knees without being asked to, taking him further down your throat – you sense a twitch in his cock, the slight relaxing of the muscles in his thighs, and a shiver of pleasure runs through you at the idea that he is enjoying what you’re doing.

Pleasing Naoya suddenly seems the most important thing in the world to you – and certainly it feels the most important thing in the world to that emptiness inside you that you feel sure would be filled perfectly by Naoya’s cock. You take him further and further. You hum low in the back of your throat and Naoya’s fist on the bed flexes – you delight in it.

Every time you do something that makes his body respond in even the smallest of ways, you feel a full body thrill run through you that starts in your cheeks and makes it’s way to the junction between your legs, soaking you, making you vibrate and twitch with need. You have never felt so hungry for anything as you do the idea of Naoya touching you--

The crown of his cock bumps against the back of your throat, making you gurgle wetly – tears springing to your eyes at just how much of him is stuffed in your mouth. It’s this that finally spurs Naoya himself to action, once more returning to grabbing at your hair.

His hips begin to piston, thrusting his cock in and out.

“You’re . . .” He breathes, in between great pumps of his hips. “Almost good at that.”

(It’s the closest he’s come to praise so far and the sound of his voice, thick with hunger and lust, is locked away inside some secret part of your mind – you know you will not be able to touch yourself without his voice, the hitch of his groans, coming back to you in a cadence finer than any music you’ve ever heard).

He uses your mouth like he’d use his own fist, pumping fast and hard, his cock kissing the back of your throat with every glide. His breath begins to get shorter, and as you feel the flesh of the shaft twitch beneath your tongue, pulsating, you ready yourself for the salty rush of his release coating your mouth. You’ll swallow everything he gives you, maybe he will call you a good girl for your troubles--

He doesn’t. The hand wrapped around your hair (so neatly arranged, when you’d arrived at the estate – now, a mass of tangles, nothing more than a handle for Naoya to grab onto) jerks.

You cough at the sudden tug. You know he was close, you felt it – so why had he pulled you off of him? The noise that escapes you is half wounded-animal, half confusion – Naoya is sneering down at you, his hand around the base of his cock.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you – and you obey. You want him to come in your mouth! You want to be good for him, you want to swallow down every drop. “Do you really think you deserve to taste my seed? When you’re so . . . inferior, in every way? So . . . inadequate?”

“Please,” you whimper, through the haze of neediness and the ache in your jaw. “Please, I want to, I’ll be good--”

“You’d take anything I gave you, wouldn’t you? You really are pathetic.” You nod, frantically – if you agree with him, maybe he’ll do something about this all, you’re too far gone to have anything close to rational thought. He laughs at you, a sound like a bark – and then, he’s spitting directly onto your mouth, the mess landing on your tongue. “Swallow it.”

Disgusting, you’re disgusting, why isn’t the way he’s acting doing a thing to dampen your desire? You swallow.

The curl of his lip is unfairly attractive. You think he’ll pull you even closer to him, make you open your mouth again and come directly down your throat until you’re coughing all over the floor – but he doesn’t. He moves his hand, pumping his cock – and then, he’s coming, his shaft twitching in his own grip--

And his come spurting across your face, painting your cheeks. You close one of your eyes to stop it getting in there, but it’s a feeble task – you feel it on your face, dripping down your nose, you know some of it has gotten into your hair. Through the one eye still open, you see Naoya’s smug face.

“Did you really think I’d come in your mouth?” He asks, all cruelty. “You don’t deserve to have my seed inside you. In fact . . . Hmm.” He relaxes, looking at you where you’re a mess on the floor. Your kimono and all the ephemera of what you were wearing lies in a discarded pile across the room where you’d taken them off. “You can put on your clothes, I suppose. But . . . don’t clean yourself up. Not even with your sleeve. You should be proud a nothing like you gets to wear it.”

He flaps his hand at you, clearly dismissing you.

“I—I--”

Your voice sounds cracked and strained and small in the room. Pathetic. Just like you. But more pathetic is the heat that seems to cling to every inch of your skin that you know will not go away until you’re touched.

“You . . . you . . . you what?” He mocks you. Your face, all heat, your big blown out eyes darkened by lust . . . He narrows his eyes and smiles, but it’s a smile that’s utterly mirthless, cold as dawn frost. “I’m not going to lower myself to touching you.”

(You think you were expecting it; but still, your sex clenches around emptiness, practically pulsating as he derides you again. Perhaps you are a glutton for punishment.)

You bow your head. You know, if you stand up, Naoya will say something about your head being above his again – so you stay on your knees, crawling towards the pile of clothes. Naoya is drawn once more to the way the slick is dripping down your thighs, the inviting slit of your sex--

“You’re so wet I can see it from here,” he jeers. “Disgusting. You really are a slut, huh?”

Your fingers fumble with the fine fabrics. If your clan elders knew how you had left your formalwear here, on the floor of his room--

You tie the knots. You cannot do anything about the mess on your face, drying too quickly, sticky and uncomfortable – but part of you wants to wear it like a badge of honour.

You finally let yourself stand up, stopped only by a mocking little sing-song of your name, the mocking inflection of the cute honorific at the end that he shouldn’t be using for you--

You turn to him for the final time, too embarrassed, too wet, too hot and aching to meet his eyes. You concentrate on his mouth instead (you know that mouth will haunt your daydreams, blanket quiet night-times when your hands delve between your legs and you have to bite your lip to stifle your sounds.)

“Perhaps,” he says, with the air of a man bestowing a great honour, “perhaps your clan elders need not know I’ve rejected you yet.” A brief flare of hope in your chest, that he sees and takes a fierce, primal kind of pleasure in snuffing out. “Oh, don’t get me wrong – I’ve no intention of lowering myself to marrying you. But . . .”

That grin, barbaric, cruel, cold, heartless.

“It’s only proper for a man of my stature to have a mistress,” he tells you. The idea should disgust you. Why doesn’t it? You need to find a quiet place to hide in the Zenin estate, where you will not be interrupted – where you can press your fingers inside of yourself and imagine they are his. He takes great pleasure in adding; “And I like a woman who knows her place.”

One more flap of his hand – this time, a final dismissal.

“I’ll see you again,” he says, as you slip out of the door--

It sounds like a threat.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #naoya x reader #zenin naoya x reader #not sfw #jjk imagines #i dont fucking know whats wrong with me OR this reader honestly #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk posting #jjk writing tag

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

In a Heartbeat - Four

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Almost Smut

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: hello I hope you all enjoy this!! I’m loving this series and I hope to keep updating it and Of Kings and Beasts regularly. Idk though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

~*~

“You’re sure I look good?”

Nat groans and climbs off your couch reluctantly, grabbing you by the shoulders and stopping you from pacing anymore.

“You look gorgeous.” You bite your bottom lip nervously, hands itching to come up to your mouth.

Your hair is pushed behind your ears, natural and beautiful, and your makeup is light. Adorning your body is a simple light blue dress that stops just above your knees, as well as a beige cardigan that hangs loosely off of your shoulders.

Nat grabs you a pair of beige heels and shoves them into your hands.

“Put your shoes on and stop worrying. He’s on his way up so even if you didn’t look good there’s no time to change now.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths before crouching down and putting your shoes on. Right as you’re doing up the clasp around your ankle there's a knock on your door.

You freeze in place, looking at Natasha in absolute terror, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s open!” She calls. You shake your head, one shoe on and the other off as you run to your bedroom.

“I can’t,” you whisper as the door starts to open. Hiding away in your bedroom, you listen to Nat greet Bucky.

“She’s almost ready. Just needs to grow a pair,” The redhead says loudly, her footsteps clomping towards the bedroom door.

She whips it open, ready to give you an earful, but when she sees the genuine fear on your face she reconsiders.

“Beans, you’re gonna be okay. He’s a real gentleman and he won’t do anything that you don’t want to do, I promise.” You take a few deep breaths, trying to hold back tears.

“What if I get hurt again, Nat? I don’t think I could handle it.” The weak whimper that leaves you has her heart shattering in her chest.

“He won’t hurt you. If he does I’ll kill him, I swear I will.” You sniffle and chuckle softly, sliding your foot into your other shoe and doing the clasp up.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.” She nods, taking your hand and giving it a firm squeeze before stepping aside and motioning to the door.

You take a deep breath, lift your chin, then leave your bedroom.

Bucky stands in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button-up, as well as a leather jacket.

“Wow,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes you in.

“You look... wow.”

You smile shyly at him. “You clean up pretty nice yourself, James.” He chuckles, then, as if remembering he’s holding flowers, offers the bouquet to you.

“I uh... I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like... and Steve said to get red roses but Nat said that red roses are for love and I think it’s too early for that because this is our first date and all and I really didn’t wanna scare you away and now I’m definitely talking too much but I’ve been looking forward tot his for.. since we set our real first date and-” Nat interrupts his rambling, hating and loving seeing her usually so confident friend stumbling over his words.

“You’re doing great, Casanova. Keep this up and she won’t even leave.” You glare at Nat over your shoulder, not wanting her to be mean to Bucky.

“Thank you, I love them.”

He got you a bouquet of beautiful lavender roses, white lilies, and an assortment of small little leaves that tie the whole bouquet together.

“Nat, can you put these in a vase for me please?” You hand the bouquet to her after taking a long sniff, smiling eagerly at her. She nods, taking them from you and handing you your purse.

“Now go on. Have fun kids, use a condom and all that.” You groan, risking a glance at Bucky to see that his cheeks are bright pink.

Feeling better at the fact that you’re not the only nervous one, you take his outstretched arm and allow him to walk you out of your apartment.

“So where are you taking me?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Well, I know this little café that makes these nice little sandwiches. I figured we could start there, grab a bite to eat and see where the day takes us.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths to calm your heart.

~*~

“I’m really glad you gave me a chance, I know things started really rocky but I... I’m glad I get a second chance.”

You smile at him, setting down your cup of tea and nodding.

“Of course. I don’t think I would have ever heard the end of it from Nat if I didn’t anyway.” The two of you share a laugh, him smiling brightly at you.

“I’ll make sure I thank her.” You nod, taking another sip of the decaf tea, heart thundering in your chest.

“I-I’m sorry, I just need to take something. I’m very nervous and my heart-” He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing gently.

“You don’t need to explain it to me if you don’t want to. Do whatever you need to do to keep yourself healthy, okay? Your health and happiness... those are my top priority.” You swear if it wasn’t beating unbearably fast against your ribs it would melt.

You take your pills as discreetly as you can, but Bucky, being ever the gentleman, excused himself to the bathroom to give you space to do whatever you need to do.

~*~

“I uh... I pushed Steve out of the way when we were in a really bad fire. I saw the beam coming down and it would’ve killed him. So I pushed him out of the way and... took the damage instead. Doctors told me if I had waited a second longer it would’ve been too high up and would’ve got me right in the chest. Instead... it took my arm.”

You sit idling in Bucky’s truck in front of your apartment, the two of you talking for the past two hours.

“Oh James... I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head, smiling at you. “If it hadn’t happened then Steve wouldn’t be alive and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I could’ve done something. Besides, Tommy thinks it’s pretty cool.” You nod at that, fingers tracing small patterns on his metal hand.

“I uh... When I was younger my mom was really careful with me. She wouldn’t let me do gym class... I could never go out with friends... nothing. One day we got into a nasty fight before I went to school. We called each other names and said awful things...

“I stopped on my way to school and bought an energy drink.” He stiffens beside you, eyes wide.

“I’d never even had caffeinated tea before, but I was so... so angry. I thought that... ‘whatever happens will teach her’. And I drank it. The whole can. I started feeling it halfway through class and when I raised my hand to tell my teacher... I just passed out. Collapsed right there in the middle of math class. They rushed me to the hospital and... I’ll never forget the fear I saw on my mom’s face. They said I almost killed myself. My heart couldn't handle the caffeine and I almost died. So from then on I just kinda... listened to my mom. Lived my life in the safe lane.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, eyes on your pretty face as you continue tracing patterns on his prosthetic.

“I’m glad you took a chance with me,” he whispers.

You look up at him, a shy smile on your face.

“I am too.”

His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, and you do the same, silently granting him permission.

He leans in, and before you have a moment to second-guess your decision, his warm lips are against yours.

You whimper, hand grabbing his wrist while the other finds his hair. He leans forward, lips moving against yours as if that is what they were made to do.

After a moment he pulls away, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry! I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have done that. I-is your heart okay?” You giggle, pushing him back into his seat and climbing over until you’re seated comfortably on his lap.

“It's gonna take a little more than some kissing to stop me,” you whisper, bringing your lips back down onto his.

He kisses you with newfound passion, hands gripping your waist and pulling you tight against him. His tongue explores your mouth, dancing with your own and making you feel things you haven’t felt in... ever.

When you pull away to breathe he doesn't stop. No, his lips, teeth, and tongue work their way down your neck until you’re quivering on top of him, body desperate for more.

“Come upstairs,” you whisper, panting against his mouth.

He lets out a weak chuckle then sighs, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” You pull away, giving him a confused look. “Why not?” His hands find your thighs beneath your dress and he rubs his thumbs in circles on the soft skin.

“I... I wanna take my time with you. I wanna take you out again and I wanna wine and dine you real nice. If we just get right to it... It doesn’t feel right.” You go to climb off his lap but he stops you.

“This feels right. I didn’t mean that this,” he motions to where you are,” doesn’t feel right. I just... you already deserve so much more than I can give you, and I wanna do everything I can to prove that I’m gonna take care of you. Believe me, I wanna come upstairs and fuck you until you can’t remember your goddamn name.” You shiver at his words and he chuckles, pulling your hips forward a bit. You gasp as you feel his hard length through his pants, pressing up against you.

“I fucking want you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck. “You’ve got no idea how bad I want you. But you deserve to be taken out and treated like a queen.” He pulls away, flesh hand coming up and cupping your cheek.

“I like you, (Y/n). And I don’t wanna ruin things before they get good.” You rest your hands against his chest, fingers splayed on the warm skin beneath his shirt from where you’ve popped a few buttons open.

“I like you too, James. A lot more than I thought I would. And... if I’m being honest... that scares me.” He frowns, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue.

“I just... what if something happens to you?” His heart melts and he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then another.

“Don’t you worry about me, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as I’ve got you willing to wait for me.” You grin, nodding and leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. Your lips linger long enough to feel the steady pulsing beneath the skin.

“I’m gonna be waiting for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good.”

He walks you up to your apartment, hand held tightly in yours and a goofy smile on his face.

When you reach your door you feel sad that the night is coming to an end. Slowly you turn to him, eyes filled with things you want to say but can’t explain.

He simply chuckles softly, metal hand cupping your jaw gently.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” You ask softly, eyelids fluttering closed as he leans down. His lips find yours and you never want them to leave.

They fit so perfectly against yours, you could spend all of eternity kissing him.

Unfortunately, he pulls away after another fantastic moment.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes on his as he slowly stands up to his full height.

“You can still wine and dine me even if you stay the night,” you whisper, already knowing what his answer will be.

He laughs quietly, shaking his head while smile lines fan out around his eyes.

“You, (Y/n), are gonna be the death of me. But god, what a way to go.” He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek then a lingering kiss to your knuckles before pulling away slowly.

“I’ll see you soon, babydoll. And I promise to text when I get home.” You nod, watching as he walks down the hallway. He shoots a glance over his shoulder when he reaches the elevator, a smile spreading on his face and red coating his cheeks as he sees you watching him.

Only once the door is closed do you unlock your apartment.

You hardly have time to step a foot in when you hear the door behind you open up.

“Next time you put on a show like that let me know so I can make popcorn.” You giggle, turning to Gladys and shaking your head.

“If we had known you’d be peeping on us we wouldn’t have done anything.” She shrugs, smiling at you. “It’s hard not to watch with a man like that standing there.” You roll your eyes at her.

“Goodnight, Gladys.” She’s already back in her apartment.

“So I’m assuming it went well?”

You nearly scream.

“Nat?! What the fuck!” She laughs, throwing her head back and letting out a good belly-laugh.

“You should’ve seen your face!” You glare at her, throwing your purse at her.

“Not funny! Why are you still here?” You kick off your shoes and groan as your toes finally have time to relax after being in heels all day.

“After last time I wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. But from the sounds of it I almost caught something scarring, didn’t I?” You shake your head, sighing and plopping down on the couch with her.

“He’s a fucking gentleman. For better or for worse.” She nods, hand slapping your knee.

“I told you. He’s gonna treat you right, Beans. I promise.”

#fireman au #firefighter au #fireman!bucky #fireman!bucky x reader #bucky x reader fireman au #bucky barnes/reader #James/Reader #james x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader au #bucky x reader au #Bucky Barnes x reader fireman au #Bucky Barnes x reader firefighter au

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loquaciousquark · 4 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Sept. 29, 2020)

@eponymous-rose‘s internet is out tonight, so I’m here late and without coffee! Let’s see how many typos we can fit into an hour and a half episode.

Tonight’s guests: Ashley Williams JOHNSON, oops!! & Liam O’Brien!

We open with Brian in light-up vented sunglasses and Henry at his side, as always. Dani is very excited to be back and has fun-buns in her hair tonight. So cute! Everyone talks about how much they’re Zooming these days for work, and Liam mentions he and Matt & Marisha did a digital cocktail night. He and Dani arrange on camera to have a distanced, masked meetup in the park so Dani can see Liam’s dog again.

No announcements! Tonight, we’re discussin’ episodes 110 and 111.

Starting with the end, Brian jumps right to it by asking how they feel that Molly is alive. Liam 100% thought we’d be back to him, but still wasn’t ready when it happened. Caleb doubted he was alive. Both Liam & Ashley marvel at the numerology that keeps cropping up throughout the show. Brian hates not being able to see it at the same time the show happens live; Ashley was biting her tongue not telling him spoilers. (He doesn’t want to hear spoilers unless Yasha dies so he can be there for Ashley if needed.) Brian says he has a little reality trauma from the night Pike died in the pre-stream game; it was the first time he’d realized how much it affected the players.

Ashley’s realized how much she misses unpacking the game with Brian when they get home. She just has to sit with it until everyone else gets to see it. Brian: “Instead she comes home and I have to fill her in on the Real Housewives of Amarillo, Texas.”

Reunion dinner with Trent! Liam talks about how the way things unfolded with Trent is not at all how he imagined it in his pre-game creation; he’d expected more of a fracas, more of an unexpected clash. “Caleb might have been a different person if he’d run into these people earlier in the story. The M9 changed him before [Trent & co] came back and got to him.” He’d imagined Astrid & Eodwulf to be complicated encounters, but says what Matt’s designed has been even harder than that. A fight on a mountain is one thing, but walking into a room with “what Trent dropped, is impossible to cope with.” It also means that if what Trent said is true, anything Caleb does now is effectively of Trent’s design, even killing him.

He doesn’t think Caleb would have gone anywhere near Trent & co without the M9. “The Mighty Nein--it took a long time--but they cracked Caleb open like a walnut.”

He thinks what Matt has done is much more murky than the simplicity of murder, such as the Briarwood arc. He can’t just exact his revenge now.

Liam says that the tempation to tinker with time is no longer as all-consuming as it was. He might still be tempted if Matt dangles a bunch of carrots in front of him, but he thinks that now it might be better to make sure that that kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore for anyone else (!!!). “It’s still a nugget in his brain and it’s still possible he could be tempted by the drug, but what he wanted in the beginning was entirely selfish, but now that the M9 are involved he owes it to them, to the people of the country, even on the Dynasty side--is so complex that if Caleb were to get that carrot and chase it, he would be risking everything.”

Ashley agrees that most of their choices are no longer black and white. Many of the situations feel more like real life. Liam agrees and says he’ll sometimes make decisions that he’s both really happy with and regrets at the same time. They both look forward to what Matt will reveal in Act 3.

Brian feels it’s tough to gauge how deep they are into what Matt’s planned for the campaign. Liam says that thanks to Matt’s skill, he really doesn’t know what Caleb wants right now.

Ashley agrees, and talks about how she created Yasha to have more to overcome than Pike. She loves what Matt’s doing in terms of allowing each of them to overcome more emotional hurdles than physical ones in this campaign.

Going back to Molly’s grave was very exciting for Ashley since she wasn’t able to be there when he died in the game & wanted to do what she could to honor him. Yasha, however, was very hesitant but knew what needed to be done. She’s not very open with her emotions, but both she & Ashley were stressed. They all could feel the energy in the studio & knew Matt was about to do something mind-blowing. Liam: “You could feel all the dust in the air coalescing around Taliesin.”

Brian trips over Eodwulf. Liam tries to help him find some pronunciation shortcuts. Ashley: “You say it so beautifully.” Brian: “Thank you.” Ashley: “Not you.”

Caleb knows how wickedly intelligent & ambitious Astrid is, and was heartened by the wavering he saw in her at the dinner. However, he can’t trust her until he knows why she’s where she is.

He really feels that if they’d had this dinner 60 episodes ago, Caleb might have tilted back along the evil axis and he would have had to retire the character. He had a playlist entirely for if Caleb turned evil and left the party.

The vision of Zuala was a huge deal for Yasha, even along every other instance she’s had of being mind-controlled, etc. “That’s guilt I think she will always carry with her, but at least she’s starting to forgive herself.” Losing the chains, sprouting wings again--Ashley reiterates that she didn’t know that was even a possibility, she just picked the skeletal wings because they were dope--were huge moments in the character development. Ashley’s glad Beau was there at the moment of the first flight; Ashley thinks of the quotation “Happiness is only beautiful when it’s shared,” and because Yasha tends to keep things very much to herself, having someone there to share it made it more impactful. “That was a cool moment. There’s been a lot of healing for Yasha these last episodes.”d

Ashley also says sometimes in that moment, when all eyes are on you in a one-on-one with Matt, everything goes muffled like Saving Private Ryan. “Wub wub wub.”

Dani feels that the only way she could even have the conversation with Zuala was to let her go in the first place.

Liam thinks one of the things that Yasha & Cad share is that still waters run deep. He loves how much Yasha hangs back sometimes, only to then reveal some new moment like the fighting pit. Apparently Ashley also has a knife collection, and uses that metal side of herself when she wants to let that new side of Yasha show.

Cosplay of the Week: Crystal Armstead (@riyuski on twitter) in a Reani cosplay. Beautiful!

How does Liam feel about the return to Rexxentrum? Very, very complicated. Caleb loves magic and lights up when he sees it, which is wrapped in the Soltryce Academy; he brought folks to the dance hall for the same reason, which was wanting the M9 to see the things that he loved about the city.

Yasha felt the same way about visiting the Chantry of the Dawn. It was a memory of a very traumatic moment (almost killing Beau), but given everything that’s happened between then and now it was cathartic to see again. There’s been a lot of healing in the past few weeks. It also felt like a physical representation of Yasha’s growth, the last time she was controlled against her will like that (or at least, until she was mind-controlled by Vokodo. Ashley sighs, aggrieved.)

Brian: “The tower really feels like a love letter from Caleb to his friends.” Liam: “It is, and a love letter from Liam to his friends.” When he looked at Caleb’s spell list, he remembered how amazing the mansion was in Campaign One and how many role-playing moments it led to and knew he wanted to incorporate it. However, he knew it could never be the same as Scanlan’s mansion because Caleb doesn’t have the same improvisational genius as Scanlan does. Liam has been “tinkering with this machine” for over a year, waiting for the moment to reveal it. He loves that he got a chance to see Jester’s room in time to have her tower room reflect reality. He’d discussed the tower extensively with Dani & Matt. Brian: “Hey! What am I, chopped--what’s the saying?” Ashley: “Chopped cabbage?”

Ashley marvels at the design of the dome. Liam talks about how Caleb knowing Caleb has been abused has been slowly getting better, but he also loves now being able to juxtapose that healing with his innate love of magic and how beautiful he finds it, how he loves to use magic as his artistry. The Soltryce Academy wasn’t “Welcome to DEATH SCHOOL,” it was the Sorbonne. It was amazing, everything he wanted. It was only one bad apple within that recruited him and turned it all bad.

Liam also points out how much it means in real life to be able to express his love and care for his friends in person too.

Ashley talks about how much she loves Yasha’s armor in a meta sense because it’s so cool and useful, and great for her armor class, but struggles with what it represents in game. She might not be able to let it go due to its sheer utility, and she may have to find an in-game reason to justify keeping it.

Ashley segues a moment into talking about her velvet top which apparently has a matching velvet scrunchie. She’s asked to demonstrate the scrunchie and ties her hair up in a way that I have never in my life seen someone do with a scrunchie before, and my hair’s been waist-length most of my life. I watch it again in slow motion. How did she DO that??

Caleb’s been looking for the right time to tell Jester about his past for a long time. She’s a good person and makes him feel like he might be capable of becoming a good person at the end, because that’s how she saw him. Liam knew from Laura that Jester wouldn’t condemn him, but Caleb put it off as long as possible. He also wanted to take the time to make sure Caduceus & Yasha knew the whole story too before they went to dinner with Trent.

Liam was also relieved to get it out, because he could never remember who knew and who didn’t, and now he doesn’t have to track it anymore. “Now we can move forward. Now we can heal wounds, maybe.”

Ashley feels Cad picks up a lot, more than most people realize. Yasha was really affected by Cad’s line: “Patience can be good, but it can lead to apathy.” She really feels it opened her eyes, and she appreciated the simplicity of him pointing out her hair’s growing back white again. Having a friend notice “hey, you’re changing for the better” really means a lot. She’s interested in seeing how this means things might change with Beau.

Dani points out that it also reinforced for Yasha that she can want things too--she can be patient and just continue to be with the group, as she’s wanted, but it’s okay to want more than that too. Ashley remembers Veth asking her what her purpose is. There’s a part of her that knows Yasha is still figuring that out, and she’s interested to see how Yasha will continue to change. She’s always spent her life serving somebody--the Sky Spear, Obann--and then even after she joined the M9, it was very centered on “what do you need, what does the group need, how can I help with our next job?” She’s going to have to take some time to figure out what she wants.

Fanart of the Week! Lovely Yasha & Beau flight art by @JMNP7888. The wings look amazing!

Brian: “One of the things we want to talk to you about, Liam, is about the Vokodo fight and the FUCKING disintegrate spell.”

Liam: “That was one of the most insane 60-90 seconds of gameplay that ever existed for the table, and definitely for me, in the entire history of the show. A lot of people think I just went, oh man, just bet it all on black. But what if I told you that...I Larkin’d the first 20 seconds of that fight and then at a quarter to midnight, I forgot that the reflection was a thing? I just forgot it was a thing! I spent that whole battle thinking I’m just here to banish things. I might buff my friends a little bit, maybe I’ll counterspell, but I’m just here to banish. And it didn’t work and it didn’t work and then it did! Finally it did and Jester made it work and then he was GONE. And then everyone got greedy and it was done but we brought him BACK. And it was a quarter to midnight and I’m not an animatronic D&D lesson machine, I’m just a guy playing D&D at 11:45 at night, and he came back and everyone started Goodfellas circling him and kicking him, and Beau & Yasha are gonna kill him, and then it’s my turn? Disintegrate! And then the room was quiet, and then time passed, and Matt asked, you really cast Disintegrate? And I said yes, of course, and Matt started rolling dice, and in the back of my head I started wondering why he asked if I was rolling Disintegrate. Oh no. In the back of my brain, I was like, well, just tell him that’s not what you did. Tell him you didn’t remember the reflection thing. But he’s already rolling dice! You can’t take it back now. Hold on a second. I’m going to take you on the journey I went through. I was thinking: you have a spell save of 17. This thing wasn’t that fast. +1, +2, maybe? Anything under 14 is okay. That’s 70%. 70%. That’s okay, right? And still no one said anything to tip me off that I was in ELDRITCH MADNESS at that point, no one said anything about the reflection! And then I realize it can reflect back on us, and I realize this is...disintegrate. And then I started becoming morbidly, macabre-ly fascinated at the puppet dance of death I had created. Well, this is a mess. I have made a mess. Let’s just sit in it. And somehow, nonsensically, spectacularly, it worked out in my favor. I went home that night and I got in bed next to my wife, who was fast asleep, and I stared at the ceiling going, dude. Duuuuuuuude. Duuuuuuuuuude.”

He apparently also told his therapist about this and how terrible it was and how close he “danced myself to the precipice like a crazy person!” Marisha (as told by Liam): “Epic roll, though.”

Matt told Liam that night that if it had been reflected, it would have gone back on him. “If a player throws an M80 in the middle of a room, it would reflect on that player who threw it.”

Ashley talks about how interesting that Yasha is not performative, and yet has been doing these public performances with the harp. It’s a great experiment for Ashley--Yasha doesn’t like the attention, but feels like she is making something beautiful for the world.” She’s trying to change something about how she views herself & her place in the world. She was raised to be a weapon for the Sky Spear, but she’s also extremely gentle and loves flowers & beautiful music, and the further away she’s gotten from the tribe, she’s falling in love with gentle, beautiful things.

Liam also points out it easy (real, but simplistic) to make an entire character centered around a single personality trait: “I’m angry all the time. I’m sad all the time.” He thinks it’s more realistic to see nuance in personality.

Liam can see some paths for Caleb to find peace & do good. He doesn’t know if Caleb is conscious of those. He thinks it’s a huge step forward to admit he was molded in this direction at all and that it wasn’t all his choice, but doesn’t know if this is the same possibility as redemption.

He also mentions Essek in this answer: there was/is attraction there, both intellectual and physical--the forehead kiss was a big marker of that--and he’s interested in seeing where that goes because he’s invested in Essek’s redemption arc on its own, but Essek is not as high on the list as other things Caleb/the M9 need to work on. He loved the “high spy times” of the Essek arc and the tangled-up-ness of feelings getting involved at the same time as intense commitment to duty.

Liam always felt Matt would bring Molly back in some aspect, even though Caleb always demurred because he doesn’t believe in fate. Dani and Brian agree that this is the start of a new act.

Ashley cried at the Vilya reunion. She thought that was an incredible moment and was so glad to see Keyleth. Liam: “Keyleth as part of our story is everything to me. That story is really important to me, so getting just a glimpse of her again was so important to me.” They could all see how that affected Marisha & how special it was to her. Liam: “It was such a great note in her song or color in her painting. She achieved magnificent things and was powerful and great, but had a very heartbreaking and sad ending, so to have this sliver of joy go back in is so complex and beautiful and masterfully done.”

Aaaaaaand that’s all for tonight! Remember, no Critical Role this week. Talks will be back in two weeks. As always, don’t forget to love each other. <3

#talks machina #critical role #talks machina spoilers #critical role spoilers #long post #long post for ts

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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The villain series II

The hour of judgement

tw: imprisonment, isolation, obsessive behavior, psychological torture?, coercion, slight hint of future Stockholm syndrome

The time was going by slowly. So slowly you could hear every click of the golden arrow on the dusty old clock up on the white wall. A second, a minute, a whole entirnity. Here everything was white, empty, unnerving. It was so cold you could see your naked flesh turning thin and blue, shivers running down your spine. Your teeth were clenching tight, but there was nothing to chew on. Despite constantly running your tongue trough your chapped lips, your mouth was still painfully dry. How long have you been in this tiny suffocating closet? Perhaps it had been too long because your dreams were filled with sun, warmth and the soft caress of Mother nature. Yet you always woke up in this stuffed little space, never left with enough room to breathe or sob or beg to be released.

"Gambit, please." You called out from inside in a quiet broken tone, fighting the urge to scratch at the door for his attention. For one you actually wanted to save up your energy and for two, you knew what was the consequence for acting like a pest. You couldn't stand another day of being treated like a stray. "Please, I am so thirsty I may die." You pleaded softly, your face twisted in desperation. You knew that showing weakness would only give him more power to destroy and the satisfaction of doing so himself, just like a demon feeding off the weak, but you couldn't find enough willpower to do better. To be stronger or wiser. Not when the nausea had overcome you yet again and the muscles of your gut clenched tight, mouth watering, forcing you to gag on your own stomach juices before throwing up every last drop of the acid liquid on the ground, making it even filthier than it used to be. The strong smell burned your nostrils and you wished you could cry, but your dehydrated body just wouldn't produce tears anymore. You were so tired and you couldn't even relieve your aching soul.

"Don't worry, my sweet angel." The villain finally replied, the malicious smirk reflecting in his teasing voice. "It's mostly believed that people can survive only three days without water." He chuckled shortly after. "But you have no idea how much time has passed, do you?" There was a long moment of silence, when all you could hear was the rhythmic beat of his rotten heart. You wondered whether it actually existed or you were just imagining it to calm your stretched nerves down.

"What do I need to do for you to let me out?" You asked suddenly, clinging to your last hope like a dying child to the end of the ship. "I will do anything, just please let me out!" You added, banging on the wooden door with both of your fists until your wrists turned red and sore. And even then you kept going, maybe eventually you would break the hard surface, trapping you away from the freedom you desired.

"It's really simple, darling." The criminal answered, laughing cruelly at your pain. The man hated seeing you so miserable and lonely but he could already taste the sweet victory on his lips. He had won. "Love me." The villain whispered, new sense of tenderness filling his lungs as he pictured the bright future awaiting. He couldn't wait to hold you down and take you, sleep next to you, turn you into the perfect little lover he had always dreamed of. "If you give me your heart, I will spare your body." The madman mumbled yet you heard him so clearly you regretted ever opening your mouth. But you were so exhausted and hungry, so deprived of your basic human needs, your pride stripped away long time ago. It didn't matter if you bent now because you had been kneeling since the first time the man saw you and decided to have you by force. And then there was Cedric... The person you loved, the one who adored you with all your little flaws and imperfections, who never gave up on you despite all the hardships. He wasn't here now. He couldn't feel your breaking bones or make you forget the pain with a kiss. You couldn't hear his sweet voice ringing in your ear like a melody. You didn't have a choice. Neither your desires nor your past life mattered anymore. This wasn't a performance. It was survival.

"Okay." You uttered lastly, hugging your knees with your bare hands. Your fingers felt cold on your skin but you kept reminding yourself that the end of your suffering was near. "I will love you just the way you want to be loved."

Your words provoked a chain reaction - the key was pushed in and the door opened soon afterwards. You were met with opened arms and a stern gaze fixated on your quivering frame. You pushed yourself into your feet, stumbling along the way because of the dizziness in your head. You found the right path towards the impatient waiting man, wrapping your sore arms around him. In return he held you close, squeezing your soft bruised body. The criminal was so warm and his embrace felt so Iight and airy on your naked skin. He placed a small kiss on your burning forehead - such a innocent loving gesture, making your blood boil in fear, but you just couldn't help yourself. Your life depended on pleasing a villain.

"G-gambit..." You sobbed, resting your head on his shoulder. His big hand was stroking your back gently, reassuringly. It created the illusion of safety - like everything was fine now. Like the man wouldn't torture you again just to hear you say those three sweet words for him.

"Oh darling..." He almost growled in your ear with a husky voice, filled with pleasure and satisfaction. The villain resembled a tiger who had finally caught his pray, ready to devour it in one bite. Instead he was playing around, scratching and licking the poor lamb, feeling powerful and strong. "Please, just call me Nicholas."

#male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere villian x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #male yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere prompt #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagine #yancore

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someone-ds · 2 years ago

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It's just like last time.

He has that look on his face- begging to spill his awful thoughts. Choke up the days that hurt and burned.

But he bites his tongue. Lingers by the door- looks out the window. Keeps his head down.

And he's stubborn and too proud. Standing tall upon his throne of sacrifices. And he looks down where I am and laments himself the way he always does. He hates himself for it.

I try to get through the doors, but he's changed the locks again and this time I'm too old and too tired to try again.

His face hangs low and his energy is draining me by the minute. I get annoyed because who keeps doing this to you?

Why does he think he has to do it all alone?

I try to avoid him- walk away when we inevitably gravitate towards each other.

I point my feet away from him, uncross my arms when he crosses his.

And he is on the phone and his smile drains, his eyebrows furrow and he looks so so tired. He sits outside and talks on the phone and listens while I wait on the bed- videogame paused.

It's not the same. It's tense it's awkward. There are big gears rotating around in his head while we play silently.

It feels like an eternity until someone finally comes in and frees us from our polite silence.

And while he goes back and forth in his mind I do the same in mine.

Our lives have become too real. Too difficult to simply share with each other.

And we try. We do. Like old dogs we try and go run after the ball and bring it back but as the ball lands the moment passes, and the ball lays forgotten behind the couch.

And we don't talk. We sit near each other and go along with our day. Because sharing means opening up and neither can manage that, though we both know we need to.

So, I try what always ends up working. I take his mind off things. Remind him of his roots and who he is without them. Who he was before and who he is now.

I pretend to be careless so he can lie to himself. I pretend to be helpless so he can save me. I pretend not to see when he starts laughing again. I pretend to be clueless and dumb. So, he can be smart. When he grabs me by my waist and pinches my cheek I know I've won today's fight.

We go to bed. We share a blanket and fall asleep. We both sleep badly, too many things plaguing us. The sun comes up and in that period between the night and the eventual start of the day we give in and touch.

Somehow we always end up like that. Limbs tangled together and breaths syncing.

But as always the sun eventually drags us out of bed and the phone rings. He picks up.

I look at my face in the mirror. We start over again. Million miles between where we're now and the bed.

I avoid speaking my mind. No good has come from that here.

And my pains are only growing, and they are starting to howl.

Hard to ignore.

Hard to ignore the way he paces in the morning. The way he holds himself when he's lost in thought. And he is battling something inside of him and it's annoying how much it shows.

He's losing. Hard.

And we go and try to avoid taking it personally when we flinch when the other moves.

And every day is a new fight. A new face to ignore.

This time when we sleep- we both sleep as far away from each other as possible.

The morning brings no comfort as I open my eyes and his fingers are gliding on his phone.

We go up mountains. I stay silent the entire time. No word leaves my mouth about how awful he looks. How tired. How abused and spent.

We come back. The sun has charged me. The water has cleansed me. I shower.

He stays outside… and talks. And there he will stay until hunger drives him back inside.

I rot away in a bed. Trying hard to not think about home and the inevitable feeling of longing and loss. The pain is crushing me and making it hard to breathe.

I test the waters. Ask him to make me a drink. He does. Jokes once. I smile.

He eats in silence. I leave. Today I've lost.

It drives me insane. How can that happen over and over again?

I'm angry. He's locked himself in the bathroom. Everyone keeps looking at the bathroom door. The light is off.

People keep coming and asking themselves where he is. The ones that know, look vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, and say nothing.

It's not like it never happened before.

But this time it's annoying. Everyone keeps looking puzzingly at each other. It's almost funny.

Until it's not- his food is getting cold, and the door has been locked for 40min now. People have come and gone. Moved through the house and he's still stuck in there.

He's out. 3 different people remind him of his food. He stands up and leaves.

The food stays on the table- untouched.

Now I am pissed.

We're in the car bringing him home. He's looking out the window. I look at him, staring at his side profile wondering what had happened to him since I last saw him.

I ask him if he's alright.

'Far from it'

I say nothing, stunned by the honesty. I put my hand on his and stroke his hand a few times. I pout slightly and remove my hand.

It's too late to talk about it. We're too tired, both in need of time alone. Besides the car was full-

as was the moon. Nothing good could come of that.

The car light is on, and his door is open, he doesn't leave just yet. He lingers for a second.

'Good night' I say.

He leaves. Looks back once and waves as I drive off.

With him gone everyone starts talking about how strange he is being.

One might find that mean, talking about someone without them present.

This though, was mainly concern.

My own problems keep chasing the car until I'm alone in a bed that doesn't belong to me. They sit next to me and stare.

It's going to be a long night.

I wake up. I've slept well, at least I think so. I took my medication, so my head feels heavy, and I feel like I'm on a boat.

I sit up, my feet are dangling off the bed. It's much higher than my bed at home. The floor is cold under my feet as I waddle out the room.

I see two figures in the kitchen, my glasses were left in the room.

My mother greets me by saying I look like hell and disappears again. Then there's him, dressed in all black not saying a word. Looking down at his phone and chewing on his lips.

I don't say anything. We sit in different rooms for a few hours.

I ask him if he's alright every time we cross paths. I'm never given a response; he just stares blankly.

Somehow we're talking about me and my mother. I shed a few tears. Everyone seems to have some kind of opinion on the matter.

Even though none of them have spent a day in my shoes. I cry angry tears.

I'm in different bed tonight. Below me he sleeps pitifully. It's cold. I give him my blanket because the sound of his teeth clattering is driving me up the walls.

Everything is kind of weird.

I've been up for a while thinking, staring at the walls.

I've caught him looking a couple of times out of the corner of my eye.

He's told me to stop thinking, about a 100 times over and he'll probably say it a million times more.

I almost certainly look awful because he is looking at me with that stupid stupid stupid idiot

" I want to take care of you“ face.

He asks me if I want a hug, I try to force a smile. I nod my head, but I don't move. Neither does he. So, we remain seated as we were.

Everything in me is screaming at me to give in- to move but I stay still.

I can't. There are already people mingling around the house, the sun has been up for a while. Nothing to hide the raw and ugly need for comfort in me.

So, I sit and stare. As does he but he stares at me while I stare the wall.

We're a hopeless bunch.

We're on that stupid small couch again. Legs tangled, laughing and playing video games.

My head is tilted back, the world looks fun this way. My head hangs off the side of the couch and then the light isn't hitting my face anymore. He's on top of me, looking intensely at my face.

Yet again, soft fingers trace my sharp edges. I close my eyes- pretend that I'm not aware about how intimate we're being.

- What are you doing

- Looking at all the details of your face, trying to remember them all

I let him continue. He pinches my cheek, holds my face with one hand while the other combs through my hair. He holds my face and smiles softly. I’m trying to remember this feeling and save it for bad days.

Somehow I feel like there is nothing in this world that matters more to him than me. But then again, I’m a good liar.

It is morning now. I've slept alright and he looks like he's had least a couple of hours of rest.

I'm on the top part of the pull-out bed.

He looks at me, I look back. It's too early for this.

I sit up and wrap myself in my blanket and go lie down next to him. He welcomes me with open arms.

Completely intertwined we lie still. I'm listening to his heartbeat while he holds my waist.

We stay like that for a couple of hours. But then the day eventually has to start.

He looks tired. I look stressed.

Nobody really cares anymore. There's no point in trying when both of us have a foot out the door.

Both so miserable.

I don't understand how he can keep it all to himself. Drown himself day by day and keep joking the way he does.

But then when he thinks that no one is watching he gives in to the pain. The ache inside him. Between his eyebrows that little slit appears, his hands flex a few times. He paces. Stops talking.

I can't help myself but always watch him. He's tied to me- he's a force of nature.

So, I see his slip ups. The moments of short-lived truths. The raw and the real. The ugly and divine.

I hate what this person is doing to him. But he is so obsessed with fixing broken people. Maybe that's why we work so well.

We're out drinking. It's windy, my cheeks are rosy, and I feel hot. There are street performers playing rock covers. We're inside a small bar, the people are nice, as is the rum in my glass.

I feel light and beautiful. One of my legs is draped over one of his. He's wearing dark blue fitted jeans and a long black sleeve shirt with a dark grey jean jacket. He looks like a movie star and people keep staring.

I am too.

We don't stay out long. I'm pleasantly drunk and still warm inside when we stumble up the stairs to our room for the night.

I change my clothes. He refuses to take his jeans off.

It's cold and I'm almost asleep when I hear him sigh and shuffle around.

- what is it?

- oh, you don't wanna know.

I sit up. Maybe tonight will finally be the time we talk.

It's not.

But we hold each other through the night. Holding onto each other a bit too tight for two people who claim to be fine.

My face is so close to his. My lips are touching neck. I can feel his heartbeat under my hand deepen. Beating harder but not faster.

We sleep.

The only moments we have to ourselves we like to share. Is that not strange?

That when we rest- or try to, we want to do that together...

Even though there is only one pillow or it's hot. The bed too small. The snoring too loud. The blanket too short.

We choose to be with each other over and over again. In different beds, cities, and countries.

There is a comfort in his arms I can't name.

The last few days made me forget about the troubles that await me. I still feel like I'm too young and too old for all of this.

He's on his phone again. He's been on a call for 5 hours-

His eyes have been erratic for the last 3. He is pacing.

It's driving me insane.

But then again- why do I care.

All of this won't matter next month. When both of us are back "Home"

Having to face the fact that him and I can never exist beyond stolen nights and lazy mornings is dreadful

But you know what? I don't miss him that much anymore. He's not my lifeline anymore. My safe haven that calms the waves that slam against my rocky beach. I don’t crave his touch when we’re apart. I don’t wonder what he’s doing or who he’s with. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson. Maybe I’ve just grown cold.

I have so many things to come back to. So many reasons to want to go home. A whole life to get back to that I- for the first time in my life do not dread.

He is slightly different today. I can't quite put my finger on it but he's smiling more and less on his phone so who cares?

We go to bed. The pull-out bed shifts underneath his weight. He is tossing and turning every couple of minutes.

-You okay?

- My neck hurts.

I’ve heard that one a thousand times before. One of my arms hangs off the bed and finds his shoulder. I massage him as I have so often before.

I leans in and relaxes under my touch. For someone people might find intimidating and scary he’s awfully soft.

And touch deprived.

I’m almost asleep, my hand stops moving. He shifts and there is a hand on mine.

-You awake?

- barely

- come here

I smile and join him on the thin twin size mattress. We barely fit on there. He massages me- or at least tries to. He tells me to relax but I really cannot. There is fire inside of me.

We hold each other again. As gentle as we can.

This time though something is different. I’m perfectly fine but he… God he’s so fragile. So delicate and innocent.

For the first time ever I’m the rock. I’m the save heaven- the lifeline.

He puts his head on my chest and hugs my waist. I have my arms around him, caging him. Shielding him from the outside.

I’m almost too afraid to breathe in case I scare him away. Break the spell. I hold his face against my chest and tell him everything will be fine over and over again. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, me or him.

I can hardly believe what is happening. His guard is completely down, the door is unlocked and wide open.

I’m in.

He looks so small and so young. I can’t help but imagine what life has been like for him, I want to tell him that nothing bad will ever happen again but that would be an ugly lie.

I scratch his head and let him sleep instead. I stay awake for an hour or two.

When I wake up he’s already awake on the other bed.

We don’t speak about his moment of vulnerability or the fact that we had never done anything like that ever before. How last night felt different and significant.

We go along with our days and pretend, like always, that nothing ever happened. No one will ever know that I’m the only person he trusts to break down in front of. That he loves being the little spoon and laid on my chest and slept well for the first time since he arrived.

No one will ever know.

#love #i love you #heartbreak #poetry #deep #love quotes #love poem #diary #angst #books

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the-smol-boys · 4 years ago

Text

Sizeshifter! Bad continuation part 3

—————

Bad ran away, tears rolling down his face, blurring his vision. He didn’t want to be a monster, he didn’t want to hurt his best friend or destroy the home they shared. The giant fell to his knees “Sgeppy...sgeppy...” he sobbed, tremors rattling his body. Skeppy had always been there to comfort him..

He sniffled. Bad didn’t know if he could return to the diamond boy...this time he really messed up. He knew he wasn’t safe to be around...he wiped the tears that were fogging his vision and there was the vacation house the two best friends built together...he must’ve ran here instinctively..but he was much too big to fit inside. He’d needed to find shelter elsewhere...

Skeppy was still in the badlands. The whole community had heard the mansion being destroyed. Puffy was the first to rush over, only to find Skeppy...who was alone. One look from the man and she already knew what happened...she was well aware of Bad’s size shifting problem.

“He’ll be back soon” Puffy said. “He probably just needs some space, he’ll come back tomorrow when he has it under control again” She placed a hand on skeppys shoulder, and he quickly jerked away.

“We don’t know that! Bad does stupid stuff when he’s emotional! He probably thinks that I hate him now...What if he doesn’t come back!?” Skeppy went into the half destroyed mansion. He grabbed a diamond sword from the chest.

Puffy tried to reason with Skeppy as he was leaving. She told him “there’s too many mobs” and “bad will come back by morning” He tried to ignore her but finally snapped.

“I’m bads best friend! Not you! You don’t know what you’re talking about! And if finding bad means I get shot by a skeleton then so be it!” He quickly turned and followed the giant footsteps his friend left in the dirt. But Skeppy already had an idea of where his best friend went...

—

He had been walking for awhile, his feet ached and he realized he forgot to bring food...he was down to a couple baked potatoes. He was forced to walk to conserve his energy.

Skeppy got lost a few times and had a few narrow escapes from creepers and zombies..maybe puffy was right...But the journey was almost over, he recognized he was close to the vacation house. He started to sprint, surely bad was close by? His world suddenly turned upside down as he fell into a cave. He was lucky he was made out of diamond. If anyone else fell as far as he just did they would have broken their legs. “Fuck...owwwie...” he whined. It still hurt..Skeppy sighed a finished off the rest of his baked potatoes to regain his strength.

His eyes turned towards the night sky and he sighed. He really really should’ve listened to puffy. Now he was stuck...the cave was huge. He doesn’t even remember a cave like this being here, why didn’t he notice it before. Then the familiar sound of bones rattling against each other echoed throughout the cavern. Skeppy readied his sword as the skeleton stepped into the dim moonlight. It drew its bow, aiming at the diamond boy.

Before Skeppy could try to dodge the attack a giant hand appeared from the darkness of the cave and crushed the mob.

“Skeppy! What is wrong with you!? You could’ve gotten hurt! Why did you come look for me at night of all times?! Besides it’s dangerous to be around me right now! Please go back home! You never listen to me!” Bad’s stern lecture slowly turned into shouting and Skeppy saw his friend grow ever so slightly.

“Bad...I’m sorry, I was just worried about you! You can’t just leave me and run off like that!” He was honestly just relieved he found his best friend. “So it’s your fault I’m here in the first place” He said before biting his tongue, regretting his words...it was only instinct for him to wile the other up a little but now definitely wasn’t the time.

“M-my fault?! “Oh don’t you dare!”

“N-no I didn’t mean it like that bad! I’m sorry okay?! I’m sorrryyy” he pleaded, “please, I’m sorry, I don’t want to fight with you right now.” He tried to stand but his aching leg decided he was still going to be sitting for awhile. “Fuck...” he groaned again.

“Lang- sgeppy?! You’re hurt!?” Bad carefully scooped up his friend to inspect him.

Skeppy squirmed a bit in his hold. “Y-yeah, I’m fine though don’t worry...I just fell into this cave because I was being an idiot and not looking...haha..” bad grew another foot. “Bad...I’m really okay”

The demon averted his eyes. “I dug this cave...it’s my fault you got hurt...it’s my fault our home is destroyed, it’s might fault you almost got crushed by me! Twice!”

Skeppys eyes widened. “No! No! It’s not, bad! I don’t blame you! I know you can’t control it. It’s not your fault. Plus I’ll be fine and we can rebuild the house!”

“Why so I can just wreck it again...?”

“If you wreck it again we’ll just rebuild it again!”

“Well as I am right now I can’t even fit in the mansion..”

“We can rebuild the mansion to be even bigger than before!” Skeppy said enthusiastically, trying to cheer up the other.

“Skeppy! You aren’t taking this seriously!”

“I am! I mean it! We can make the mansion way bigger and-“

“No sgeppy!”

“Bad...”

“Im staying here Sgeppy...”

“No you’re not, I’m not letting you stay in this shitty cave!”

Bad glared at his friend and sighed. He gently set Skeppy down and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a diamond block and set it on the ground. His hand raised before slamming down onto the precious ore. When his hand lifted again it revealed shattered diamond rumble. “I’m too dangerous...even for you...”

Skeppy was sitting, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed by the display. “That’s stupid, I know you’re not gonna hurt me. You love me too much” he giggled

Bad stared dumbfounded before shrieking. “What the muffin is wrong with you?!...ugh...Sgeppy..”

“Nothing you say is gonna change my mind, bad, I’m not letting you live out here alone. If you insist on living in this cave then I guess i will have to move in.”

“...sgeppyyyyyyy”

“Baaaaaaaad”

“Muffins...I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you..”

“I already said you won’t hurt me”

“Not on purpose!...but I can’t control..it..” he sniffled as he recalled how scared he felt when he nearly crushed Skeppy.

Skeppys heartstrings ached. He hated nothing more than seeing Bad cry. He slowly stood up and limped over to his friend, placing his much smaller hand on the others. “Its gonna be ok, bad. We’ll figure this out.”

Bad picked up his friend gently and brought him close to his chest, the best attempt at a hug he could do at this size. The demon was still silently sobbing.

Skeppy leaned into the warmth of his friend and continued to spew comforting words until he heard Bad’s sniffling stop. Soon after that sleep claimed his exhausted mind

—————

Sorry idk how to write and I think I may have written too much, and sorry for typos :/

#g/t art #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #giant/tiny fluff #g/t au #mcyt g/t #giant!bad #tiny!skeppy

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fckinsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

30 with Michael please

I’m doing this one for Hawthorne Michael!!! Oh, and just a little disclaimer, reader & Michael are both over 18 in this!

———————

Michael Langdon had always been a fascinating man to you, from the moment you met him. There was just something that pulled you to him, a magnetic energy that you could never get enough of. Since arriving to Hawthorne with Cordelia to conduct “official Council business,” as she called it, you & Michael did nothing but flirt. His cockiness, which usually would have been a turn off for you, only drew you deeper into his mysterious web. The whisperings in the dim hallways were that he was going to be the first male supreme—the Alpha, they called it. You hated the terminology, but it made you question everything. Was this why you were so drawn to him? Was it your destiny to seduce & possibly bring down this mysterious being?

Did it even matter?

One day, you decide to pore over your notes in the common room. Not many of the warlocks are present, either in classes or doing studying of their own elsewhere. It was quiet, perhaps too much, but the silence is soon broken as Michael approaches. You hear his footfall before you see him, looking up from your papers to see him striding into the room. His hands are tucked behind his back, a smirk on his face as he walks over to you. He takes a seat beside you, his eyes glancing you over before tilting your chin to face him.

“How’s my favorite witch doing today?” Michael asks, his fingers swiping under your lip.

“She’s doing better now that you’re here,” you say, turning your whole body to face him. “It’s a good excuse to stop this boring paperwork.”

He smirks, pulling you close to him and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “That’s good to hear,” he says. “I think you should focus your attention elsewhere, anyway.”

“I think I know one place I’d love to focus,” you tease, biting your lip before nodding toward the exit of the room. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And go where?” Michael asks, his brows knitted in confusion. “Ariel won’t let us leave—“

“I’m not talking about the building,” you say with a chuckle. “I think it’s no secret that we’re both attracted to each other, and I want to act on it. I was talking about us going up to my room.”

Michael looks down at his hands, wringing them for a moment as he draws away. You offer a confused glance, and he meets your gaze with a shy, apologetic smile. You’re worried that you overstepped your boundaries, and you shake your head before reaching for his hand.

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly. “I didn’t go too far, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry. I—“

“No, you didn’t,” he assures you, averting his gaze again. “It’s...Well, I’ve never actually had sex before.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your jaw agape. “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” Michael says, looking at you with a dangerous glare. “Is that such a surprise to you?”

“Well, yeah,” you say. “You act like you’re hot shit around here, but you’re actually not? It’s a big surprise.”

“I see,” Michael says, hurt flashing across his face for a moment as he stands. “Well, if that’s how you fucking feel, then—“

“Wait!” you say, a hand on his arm as you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to come across as making fun of you. I just mean that it’s a shock because I thought you were this big ladies’ man, but...you’ve never actually done anything. It was just something that threw me off for a minute, that’s all. It’s okay that you’re a virgin and I’m not gonna laugh at you for it.”

He smiles a little, calming down as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to act anymore. I want to be real and I want to be everything that I am pretending to be. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore; I’m tired of living the lie.”

You chew your lip a little, eyes cast to the floor for a moment before you meet his gaze. “I could always help you there. I mean...if you wanted me to.”

“You would do that for me?” Michael asks, and you nod. “All I ask is that you’re careful at first. I don’t know what could happen if you aren’t.”

“I get it,” you say, extending a hand to him. “You’re on track to be the next Supreme, so your powers are still unpredictable.”

He takes hold of your hand, and you lead him up to your room. For the first time, perhaps since you met, you’re aware that he’s anxious. You can feel it radiating off of him, almost like heat, and you squeeze his hand reassuringly as you reach your room. You open the door, ushering him inside before closing it behind you. After making sure it’s locked, you turn to face him. You shrug off the grey cardigan you were wearing, letting it fall in a forgotten heap on the floor. Michael watches you, his tongue running over his lips as you start to slowly strip your clothing. You give him a moment to take you in each time an article is removed, remaining in your matching black bra & thong as you see the prominent bulge in the front of his pants.

“Liking what you see?” you tease, walking over to him and positioning yourself in his lap.

“Yes,” he says, his hands roaming your back and stopping at your bra to seek permission. “Can I touch you?”

“Of course,” you say, rocking your hips against his. “You can touch me any way and anywhere you want to. Can I kiss you, Michael?”

He nods rapidly, and you smash your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groans softly, your hands tangling in his messy blond curls. He runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth, taking in every ridge and every inch, his hands on your ass as he pulls you closer. You grind against him as you make out, feeling his cock growing impossibly harder against your cunt. He smirks against your mouth, evidently noticing how wet you were, and you start working his tie loose.

“I’m gonna take your clothes off,” you whisper. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, shivering as you unbutton his shirt and kiss the skin exposed with every undone button. “I...”

“What is it?” you coo, looking up at him. “Tell me, Michael.”

“I’m getting close already,” he says, his tone full of embarrassment as his cheeks heat crimson. “I can feel it...”

“You poor thing,” you say with a teasing pout, grinding hard against him as you both groan. “I think it’s time I help you out of those pants then, huh?”

He gives a soft nod, and you shift your body so that you can unfasten them. You slowly work his zipper down, teasingly brushing your fingers against his shaft. This was apparently a mistake, for Michael’s hips began to stutter and his breathing was getting quicker. Before you could tell him to hold off, he was cumming fast within the confines of his boxers, your name a sigh as it passes his lips, his hips rotating upward. You observe the wet stain forming in the front of his pants, tsking as you try to fight a smirk. He’s too far gone for a moment to realize what he’s done, but once his high dissipates and he comes back to reality, his cheeks turn bright red and he looks away from you. You can’t tell if he’s angry or embarrassed at first, but the answer soon becomes clear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his eyes meeting yours as the color in his cheeks rises. “I thought I could hold off. I really did.”

“Shh, it’s fine,” you assure him, kissing each of his cheeks. “It happens sometimes. It’s totally normal. We can always try again later, when you’re—“

Michael seems to know what you’re going to say, and a wide, cheeky grin forms. He takes your hand, placing it over the wet spot on his bulge. To your surprise, he’s still rock hard, his orgasm not making him soft at all. You don’t question why; you already know how it could be possible. Michael Langdon, the enigma, the next supreme, seemed to have more abilities than you initially believed. Abilities that seemed more human, rather than completely abnormal.

“I want to be inside of you,” he whispers in your ear, roughly tugging the lobe between his teeth before moaning hotly. His embarrassment from moments ago has seemingly melted away, giving way to something much more confident. A bit feral, even. “I want to feel what it’s like. I want you to cum for /me/ now, and I want it to be all over my cock. Think you can do that for me, babe?”

“I think so,” you say, watching with hungry eyes as he pulls his erection free. He’s far bigger than you imagined, his cock slick and red, veins prominent all over the shaft. You reach out to jerk him off but he slaps your hand away, resulting in a whine from you. “Michael...”

“No,” he hisses, positioning your hips over his cock. With a nod from you, he sinks you onto his cock, your hands tearing at his skin and hair as you try to adjust to the massive feeling. His cock stretches your tight cunt, resulting in a burning, stinging sensation that isn’t entirely unpleasant. “Fuck!”

“Michael,” you whimper, looking at him through hazy eyes. “You feel way too good.”

“So do you,” he says, hoisting you up a little as he guides your movements along his cock. “Don’t think that just because I’m a virgin, I’ll go easy on you. I truly don’t believe you know what I’m capable of, and it would be a shame to have to show you.”

“What if I want to see it?” you ask, building a steady pace with your hips as you ride his cock, his hands massaging your ass. “I want you to show me.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Michael asks, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking generously as your head falls back.

“Mmm hmm,” you hum, grinning as you tug his curls. “Try me.”

——

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wroteclassicaly @leatherduncan @dark-mei-rose @littlegirlsdontplaynice @melodylangdon @xavierplympton @blakewaterxx @whatcodysaid @frenchlangdon @babyyyodas @xavierplymptons

#I TRIED 😩#michael langdon #michael langdon blurb #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

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tngrace · 4 years ago

Text

Finding My Happy

My dearest Max, happy birthday dude! I hope you have the best day ever and I hope you enjoy this! Thanks for letting me add the missing Judd/TK and missing Tarlos moments from the last episode. I truly hope you enjoy this.

Read on A03.

As always thanks @moviegeek03 for helping me iron out the finer details and the support. It means the world 💙

After their little talk that morning about the news TK received the night before, Judd knows something major is up when TK leaves his father's office with a simultaneously pissed off and kicked puppy look on his face. "TK," he calls out, but TK just brushes past all of them.

Judd sees the questioning looks from the others and just shakes his head at them. "I'll take him," he says heading in the direction TK went.

He finds TK outside pacing the front of the firehouse. "Hey. Take a breath," Judd says, laying a hand on TK's shoulder. TK tries to shrug him off, but Judd just gives his shoulder a squeeze and holds him still. "You wanna go out again? Talk?" He questions when TK won't say anything.

TK looks at him with those sad eyes and a nod, and Judd squeezes his shoulder in response knowing he'd do anything with TK giving him that look. "Gimme five and we'll go," Judd tells him as TK nods again wringing his hands. Just as they're loading up in the truck, questioning looks from the others still firmly in place, the alarm sounds and TK groans.

Judd gives him an apologetic look as TK jumps out to gear up and climb in the back. Once everyone is in, Judd takes off leading them to their call. Owen is giving out the information from dispatch, but TK is a little zoned out. The call is easy, routine, and TK was rather impressed that Pearce was able to save someone. He knows Owen can feel the attitude he's giving off, but he can't help it. His dad's comment hurt more than he wants to admit.

Once back at the station, he grabs a bite to eat before he and Judd try once more to have their conversation. "You gonna tell me what's up? Or am I gonna have to pull it out of ya?" Judd eventually asks as they sit in the firetruck and TK doesn't even attempt to start it.

"It's just something dad said earlier. It just…." TK trails off, biting at his lip as he hangs his head.

"TK you can tell me anything," Judd reminds him squeezing his shoulder. Judd hates the kicked puppy look TK seems to have perfected. It makes him hurt for his brother.

"Dad had me sign papers earlier. Signed his power of attorney over to me. Said he's gonna have that cancer surgery in two weeks, the one I've been bugging him to do."

"That's great bud. I know you've been on him about it," Judd says knowing that would be a relief for TK.

"Yea…. Well," TK sighs running his hands through his hair tugging at it. "I asked him why he was finally going to do it. And you know what he said?"

TK's eyes drop to his lap, his hands twitching and wringing with nervous energy. Before they can go any further, their radios crackle to life with a call. Luckily they're right near the firehouse, and after a quick switch of drivers they're back at the station. Judd so wants to know what Owen said to devastate TK like this, but it's gonna have to wait. TK grabs his gear from Paul, and jumps in the back with the others. He can see TK in the mirror zoning out again as Owen talks. He is determined to get to the bottom of this after this call.

Upon arrival, the two captains converse with the Travis Co Sheriff's Officer on site as the team hangs back waiting for a game plan. TK can already feel the adrenaline starting to course through his body as Owen details out what they need. "You good?" Judd asks him and TK nods reassuringly even though he can tell Judd doesn't buy it.

He can't help but overhear the conversation with the new guy as everyone else gathers what Owen requested and Judd keeps tabs on the bomb squad. TK hates that his dad is always putting himself in the most dangerous situations, but he knows he can't do anything about it either because Owen wouldn't listen to him. When he hears the new guy declining to go, he knows he needs to speak up and save two captains from being in danger.

"I'll go," he says getting looks not only from his team, but also both captains. He can almost see the objections on his dad's tongue, so he continues before Owen can object. "I was a dual-function FD medic in New York. All my certifications are up to date. I can do this," he says almost daring his dad to contradict him.

Owen just nods and tells him to suit up. Captain Vega prepares the bag he will need while Judd pulls TK to the side to help him suit up. "What the hell are you thinking?" He practically growls at TK.

"That kid needs saving and it was better than both captains risking their lives," he says, stripping down to his undershirt. Judd straps his chest harness around him as TK puts on his helmet. "I'm fine. You're not gonna lose anyone else," TK says quietly to which Judd just grunts. TK knows he's worried, but TK honestly feels steady.

Jumping through a minefield had his blood pumping and his adrenaline flowing. He almost forgot what Owen had said earlier as he zoned in on work. The call goes faster than TK expects even though his dad almost got blown up. TK felt steady, felt sure of what he was doing and keeping Wes alive. It felt good to get back to the medic side of calls. Once the bomb squad cleared a path for them, TK helped load the boys into the ambulance.

Before TK could volunteer to ride along with them, Judd pushed him towards the firetruck. TK knew their conversation was far from over, but having a good call helped refocus him. Once back at the station, Judd pulls TK out to the side yard. "That was fool-headed and stupid," Judd starts, but he pulls TK into a tight hug. "And also badass as hell. You did good," he says, making TK shake him off with a nervous laugh. He's still not good at taking praise for just doing his job.

"Thanks. It felt… it felt good," he says with a shoulder shrug and bashful smile.

"We'll get back to this," Judd says as they sink into some chairs. "Wanna tell me what your dad said now?"

TK sighs as he bites his lip, his eyes dropping. He knew Judd wouldn't forget, and he knew he needed to talk about it. He just wanted to ride the adrenaline high a little longer. "I asked him why he was finally doing the surgery. He said…." TK sighs and Judd can see he's fighting tears. "He said because he's going to be a father," TK gets out quietly not looking at Judd.

Judd is stunned. He didn't think Owen could be so callous to TK. He has to bite back a growl of anger on TK's behalf. "I mean…. I know he's happy about a new baby, and it's their…. Their second chance to get it right and not screw this one up.... but I just… "

"TK stop!" Judd says forcefully interrupting TK's self-degradation, reaching for TK's shoulder giving it a squeeze. "You are not a screw up, you hear me?" Judd searches his eyes trying to make sure TK hears him and believes him. "You're not. And I don't give a damn how happy he is about another kid. That doesn't give him the right to ignore and hurt the one he's already got. Just because you're an adult, doesn't make you any less his kid."

"Thanks Judd," TK says quietly. "Dad's… dad's always just been dad," he shrugs. "He wasn't around much as a kid, and then mom worked, and I just... I figured things out on my own, made some bad decisions, some not so bad…. And I became a firefighter so I could be a part of his family finally." TK hates painting his dad in this bad light, but he's just trying to be honest with someone who's always honest with him. "He's always had a hero complex and when I need saving he's there. And then he finds someone or something else that needs saving, and that's that. I'm used to it, but I dunno. It just…. It hurt this morning ya know?" TK finishes, his eyes dropping back to his folded hands.

"Of course it did. And you have every right to feel that way, and express how you feel TK."

TK scoffs as he finally looks at Judd. "He wouldn't listen if I said something. He'd tell me I misheard him or something. Hell he didn't even notice anything after he said it, and I know I don't have that good of a poker face," TK says with a shrug. "But that last call, it felt good. It felt right. It made me forget what he’d said for minute. I haven't done medical since New York for obvious reasons, but it just…. I don't know it felt really good."

"TK you were a total badass out there today. If this is something you want you should go for it. I doubt Pearce is gonna last with Tommy. I'd say he's already out the door," Judd says looking back at the firehouse.

"Yea but…" he trails off with a deep sigh.

"But what? You've got the qualifications and the experience. You proved yourself today for sure. Tommy would be lucky to have you."

"But what about us? The team? Dad?" He trails off quietly.

"TK we're still a team, a family. That's not gonna change just because you move over to medical. We're gonna support whatever you want to do because that's what family does. If this is something you want you should go for it." Judd’s quiet for a moment contemplating his next words. He reaches over, squeezing TK's shoulder, making him look at him. "You don't have to do everything exactly like your dad did. You have a family that loves you and supports you, and if he's too stupid to see that, that's on him. You have to do what makes you happy, bud. And if medical is what's gonna do it, then I say go for it."

TK nods, taking in Judd's words. "Think you could sneak me an application just in case?" TK asks him with a sly grin.

"Yea… yea of course. Think it over, but you've always got our support," Judd says squeezing TK's shoulder one more time before heading inside. And if he decides to detour by Owen's office to give him a piece of his mind, then TK doesn't have to know. TK sits there for another minute before going to find the rest of the team to see what their thoughts are on this development.

He finds the rest of them in the kitchen. He jumps up on the counter, grabbing some chips to snack on as they hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Pearce has his bag over his shoulder, and says his goodbyes. "And another one bites the dust. Man Vega's got them dropping like flies over there," Paul chuckles.

"Must be tough," Mateo chimes in.

Before TK thinks it through he opens his mouth, "She's tough. So is the job. It was… um.. it was pretty exciting though," he says with a grin and a shrug jumping off the counter.

"You should get his paycheck for this week and yours," Marjan says as Mateo chimes in, "Yea you were a badass out there."

TK chuckles as he shakes his head at Mateo's enthusiasm. "Thanks guy," he says bashfully. "I uh… I wanted to ask you all something." He notices three sets of eyes fall on him immediately, and he can't help but nervously chew on his bottom lip. "I uh… Judd and I were talking just a bit ago…. And I just… I wanted to see…"

"Yes," Paul says before TK can even finish, making the other two look at him strange. He gives them a shrug and a smirk having already figured out where TK was going with this. "That's not fair," comes from Marjan, and "Let him finish," from Mateo making Paul and TK both chuckle.

Paul's unwavering support gave TK the boost he needed to spit it out. "I wanted to see how you all would feel or what you all would think if I applied for Vega's open position. Judd seemed to think it was a good idea, but I don't want to… I don't want to mess this up," he says gesturing between the four of them.

"Yes," Paul says again as the other two appear to be in shock. TK turns to them biting at his lip as Paul clears his throat and shoots them a look.

"TK I think you would be amazing at it," Marjan says squeezing his arm. Mateo is the only one not to say anything until Marjan nudges him. "Yea.. You'd be great at it TK. I wasn't kidding when I said you were badass today."

"Are you sure?" TK asks, getting three nods in return. "Aren't you worried about this changing things?" He asks them gesturing between them once more.

"No," Paul and Marjan say at the same time. "We're all still a part of the same house. We're all still gonna hang out at Carlos's. We're still family TK. That will never change," Paul finishes getting agreement from the other two.

"Thanks guys," he says with that bashful grin again. "I wanna talk to Carlos first, but I think I really want this."

"Vega will be lucky to have you," Marjan says. They all three converge on him for a hug before Paul gets called away and shift ends. When TK grabs his bag, he sees the application Judd must have slipped in there and smiles. He tells his team bye, barely gets goodbye out to his dad, before he's heading towards home, to Carlos's.

Carlos was just finishing up dinner when he hears the key in the door and his boyfriend walks in. "Hey babe," TK calls, dropping his duffle at the door and kicking his shoes off.

"Don't think you're out of the doghouse," Carlos says trying to be gruff, but he opens his arms to TK for a hug and a kiss.

"You heard?" TK says cocking his head to the side and scrunching his nose adorably.

"Did I hear that my boyfriend went jumping through a minefield?" Carlos asks with a contemplative look. "Yes… yes of course I did because the bomb squad couldn't quit talking about it."

TK pouts and Carlos just finds it too adorable. He gives TK a soft kiss as he squeezes him gently. "Did I also hear that said boyfriend saved two kids' lives and was a total badass about it? Yea I heard that too," he smiles kissing TK's scrunched nose.

"Who told you that part?" TK asks, adorably confused.

"Judd sent me a text while they were watching y'all jump through the field. Then he let me know you were fine and had done a stellar job."

TK gives him a bashful smile finally letting Carlos get back to plating their dinner. "Yea it was pretty cool," TK says, getting two glasses of tea as Carlos brings their food to the table. "I uh… I haven't felt that good on a call in a long time," TK says barely meeting Carlos's eyes. He has the support of his team, but he's still nervous about telling Carlos what he wants.

"Yea? That had to make for a good day then right?" Carlos asks, picking up on TK's nerves but not pushing him.

"Mmmm yea," TK says with a nod as he digs into the delicious as always food. "That part of the day was good. The rest…." He trails off with a shrug.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Eh… dad just made some comment that hurt," TK says shrugging it off.

"TK your feelings are valid no matter what he says, you know that right?" Carlos asks, laying his hand over TK's. He knows TK and Owen have their spells where Owen won't listen and makes TK feel unheard and insignificant. But he wants TK to know it's ok to feel what he feels and to voice those feelings.

"Judd said the same thing," TK says, finally meeting his eyes.

"Then maybe you should start believing it," Carlos smiles.

"Yea… and then the call today. It just…. It got me thinking," TK says pushing his plate away and climbing into Carlos's lap straddling him. He wants the comfort of being close to his boyfriend.

"Yea? Thinking about what?" Carlos asks, wrapping his arms around TK’s waist.

"What I really wanna do. Today was so invigorating and I felt really good about it. I felt confident and sure of myself. Something I haven't felt on the job since New York. And I talked it over with Judd and the rest of the crew, and I think…" he trails off biting his lip. Carlos rubs his back and softly kisses his lips to get him to stop biting it. "I think I want to apply to Captain Vega's open paramedic position."

Carlos gives him a soft smile and softly kisses his forehead. "I think with that big caring amazing heart of yours that you will make an amazing paramedic," Carlos murmurs.

"Yea?"

"Yes baby. I think you would rock at it."

TK lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he lights up. "Would you maybe wanna help me type up this resume then?" TK grins toying with the buttons on Carlos's polo. "I mean I can do it, but I'd…"

Carlos kisses him to interrupt him. "Yes. I will," he grins.

They finish dinner, and Carlos clears the plates as TK gets his laptop. They type out TK's resume for the paramedic application, and Carlos is honestly impressed. He already knew TK had been on the job straight from high school, but he didn't realize what great scores TK had on his tests or how many commendations of Valor he had already racked up. "Baby this is impressive," Carlos says in awe.

TK blushes and shrugs him off. "Captain Vega is going to be lucky to have you," Carlos says kissing TK's forehead. "You said you talked to the team, so what did your dad say?" Carlos asks. He knows TK said Owen had made a hurtful comment and he's trying not to push TK, but he is curious.

"I haven't told him," TK says with a shrug. Carlos wrinkles his forehead at that, setting the laptop on the coffee table and pulling TK into his lap.

"I see. Do you wanna tell me what happened?" Carlos asks him softly. TK bites his lip before recounting the conversation with Owen earlier and what Judd told him. TK can feel Carlos's anger, and he runs his hands through Carlos's curls to try and calm him. Carlos takes a couple deep breaths knowing this is about TK, not him.

"TK, I'm going to agree with Judd on this one. I know sometimes your dad speaks before he thinks, and I don't like how he makes you feel insignificant and unimportant. Because you are the most important person and you deserve to feel how you feel. I get why you don't want to tell him, but he's going to find out and you're gonna have to talk at some point."

Carlos runs his hand up and down TK's back, "But no matter what, I'm going to support you, and I'm going to love you, and I'm always going to be here no matter what. This is your home too, and you’re my life. I never want you questioning where you belong ever again."

He reaches up and wipes TK's tears. "I think you're going to make an amazing paramedic, and if you need help coming up with what to say to your dad, then I'm here. Whatever you need," Carlos says as TK dives in for a hard passion filled kiss.

"I love you too Carlos, so much," TK murmurs as he snuggles his face into Carlos's neck. They eventually make it to bed with TK feeling confident in his choice to apply. He hopes Vega will accept it because now that he's set his mind to it, he really wants it. He knows he's going to have to talk to his dad at some point, but for now he falls asleep in his boyfriend's arms, happy and secure in his choice.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star coda fic #tk x carlos #writers life #for max #maxs birthday fic #brother fic #fire fam fic #tk needs a hug #and support #tk becomes a paramedic

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