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xjoonchildx · 3 months

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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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jhuzen · 1 year

Text

what do you mean it’s been a whole week since i said i’d post this? pretty sure today is still tonight. anyway, this is based on this godly ask! this is… extra long. i’m sorry i got carried away 😭 it’s honestly going to be a lot longer if i didn’t cut out some scenarios. jadiksodc.

𖦹 nsfw, top reader, virgin haitham i literally have no idea what else to say.

“Have you ever even gotten laid?”

Alhaitham’s eyes stopped at the last sentence of another book he’s buried his nose into. The night was quiet — save for the sounds of the burning embers from the campfire as well as the snores of one tiny fairy that laid beside you. The nights are cold in the desert, but it sure was enough to keep him awake. He’s been searching for ways to solve the problem with the suspicious Grand Sage, and you were kind enough to help.

You were revered across all lands apparently — even reaching the isolated Inazuma before the vast Sumeru in the first place. And while Alhaitham has every confidence in his own knowledge and meticulously calculated strategies in solving problems, he wasn’t one to take away credit from you, who protected him and fended off any other Eremites that tried to cut off his plan.

He found you reserved, keeping to yourself while the tiny floating chatterbox spoke for you like she was your advisor. You did find yourself talking to him at times, but most of it was either your agreements in his plans, your little snide remarks when he did something that both you and your flying companion considered as remotely pretentious. And quite frankly, he did not want to expend any form of effort to defend himself. If that’s how he came across to you, then so be it.

However, even with the limited time that he’s known you, he never pegged you for someone this… sheer.

In fact, he never expected it so much that he even did his own version of a double take, looking up at you with eyes that brimmed with curiosity and slight surprise. And yet, there you were, casually polishing your sword so diligently, tongue sticking out in determination with your brows furrowed in concentration.

Like you never asked him such a… question.

The scribe had half a mind to ignore your sudden query — chalk it up into a auditory hallucination and continue on with his reading. But his mind knew better; that if he left it at that, he would be perturbed until the end of his days, and Alhaitham is a practical man, meaning he’d rather get the trouble you suddenly placed on him out of the way than go through such feelings.

“Pardon?”

“Hm?”

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes, were you now planning to pretend like you never asked the question in the first place? He cleared his throat, “You said something. And I think I misheard. Care to repeat?”

Your gaze met his before blinking, “Oh. I was just asking if you’ve even ever gotten laid in the first place,” you laughed while you turned back to your well-groomed sword, continuing to polish it with refined movements. “Sorry, it’s an out of the line question, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he curtly replied, but even he could not extinguish the sudden curiosity that rose from him. “Though why even ask me that question seeing that you’re fully aware the invasive nature of it in the first place? What spurred this on?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing much, really. It’s just that you’re good looking but you seem to be the type to not… invest your time in those activities.” Alhaitham wonders where all that cutthroat honesty goes every time you go radio silent within the last few days, barely letting out a peep to talk to anyone while Paimon did the talking for you.

Alhaitham scoffed nonetheless. It was such a shallow reason for you to ask that. Surely pure aesthetics is not a prerequisite to have sex. “Is it a requirement to engage in such activities if I am pleasing to look at?”

Your lips turned up in a cheeky smile as you tore your eyes away from your blade, looking up at the stoic scribe with a mischievous mirth glinting through your eyes, “Well. You eat with your eyes too, right?”

A laugh escapes from your system when Alhaitham instantly made a face. He’s not stupid (far from it really, and the entire Akademiya knows) — he knows the preconceived notions to these play of words. He reeled back at the innuendo, partly taken aback. Just what on earth have you been thinking despite your persistent silence to come up with something as crude as that?

He composed himself, eyes averting from yours and looking back down to resume his reading; but his mind was far from the focus he always maintained when occupied with books.

Alhaitham chewed on his bottom lip discreetly before giving an answer he deemed relatively satisfactory, “…I have no interest for such things. And don’t things like these need to have prior connection in the first place? I’d rather not have attachments to someone. It’s far too bothersome.”

“Oh so that’s why,” you hummed, this time your attention fixated in refining your sword handle. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to experience new things. And I can even help you. No strings attached.” You offered in a light jest, followed by a chuckle after.

It was a joke offer, of course. You of all people knew that when Alhaitham didn’t want something, he will steer clear from it. However, you only found him remotely interesting because he was so bloody shady in the first place. He was supposed to be an honorable scribe, being held at such a high position, and yet he was dubious enough to even make you buy forbidden cans of knowledges, and even with the partnership you’ve got going on now, you’d find yourself unable to sleep so freely without so much as expecting him to suddenly jump on you.

You simply found him interesting. And true to your love language (that your little traveling companion is often the recipient of), you couldn’t help but tease him, a little prying at something as intimate and private as his sex life (which you now knew to be nonexistent). Just a little jest to mess with him for your entertainment. That’s all.

However Alhaitham had much different perception to your lighthearted teasing. You… were offering him something so intimate as sex with no strings attached. While anyone with a right mind could quickly brush it off as a mere joke with no promises — Alhaitham was quick to entertain the thought of doing it with you without having to suffer the consequences of being in a relationship with someone.

No strings attached, huh. He pursed his lips, eyebrows knitting a little as he mulled over what seems to be an option (though there never was as it was only a joke from your end).

The thought enticed him. Of course, he was doing this for academic purposes and to satisfy the now insatiable curiosity that you placed upon him like an irreversible curse with one specific cure.

He stole a glance from where you sat as he recalled the many times you’ve managed to smooth talk your way into certain situations back in Port Ormos. Exuding confidence and sharp wit, along with a charming face that no one can say no to — also with your… beliefs earlier, Alhaitham was quick to deduce that you are a man whose had plenty of experience in sex. You were most definitely the kind to frolic around with anyone that suits your fancy, especially with how easily you offered to help him like it’s a simple favor from a colleague and nothing more.

The silence that engulfed your group (again, subtracting the snores from Paimon) soon broke when Alhaitham decided to go head in for the kill.

“Okay.”

“What?”

There was a sense of satisfaction that flooded his system when you looked up with a confused look on your pretty face.

Alhaitham cooly brushed off the flustering feeling that slowly nestled into the pits of his stomach, his stomach knotting in anticipation at the thought of taking you up on your generous little offer, “I agree to what you’re offering,” he refused to look at you, continuing to read the words that were barely coherent in his mind now, trying to look as composed as possible. “Just to satisfy certain questions from this sort of activity of course.”

You tilted your head at him, cocking an eyebrow, “Right… so you want to have sex?”

He coughed, “For research purposes.”

“If I had a mora for every time I heard that excuse, I wouldn’t worry about Paimon’s endless appetite by now,” you laughed. “But knowing you, you’re probably telling the truth.”

You were met with a silence from the scribe. Make no mistake however, he was stewing in absolute embarrassment — only glad that his headphones were able to cover up his ears that are sure to be burning up a bright red hue.

“…Are we doing it now?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, “Absolutely not. We have a mission, traveler. And doing such a thing outside… is sure to provide a less than stellar experience.”

You huffed out a laugh before stabbing your blade on the ground, “Man, you really are a virgin. And you have no idea how many freaks are out there that can do it outside even in the midst of a thunderstorm.” It was an exaggeration, but the look of mortification that was plastered on Alhaitham’s usually unfazed face was all the more entertaining. “Anyway, if you’re really serious, then who am I to back out? We’ll finish up this mission quick and then you can ring me up any time.”

Alhaitham could only give a strained nod before finally finding the words on his pocketbook a little more understandable as his mind cleared.

The last grueling days was nothing short of eventful, to say the least. You were somehow able to pull off in fighting an all too big of a god’s body with the vengeful puppet inside. You freed Nahida too, kicked Azar off of his position and destroyed the beloved Akasha that the people of Sumeru found themselves completely dependent on. It was like a blur, with you constantly on the run to ensure that every plan works in your favor, though you weren’t one to take away from Cyno and the rest — with their dutiful cooperation.

And now, you were hailed as a hero in Sumeru much like your past adventures in the last three nations, awarded as Buer’s first Sage added in the roster of your many, many titles. You were celebrated around and all you’ve ever wanted was to go inside your beloved teapot and sleep.

And that you did.

The next days were spent in leisure around Sumeru, getting along with anyone in the vicinity, often offered goods for gratitude. Paimon accepted every single food and you soon found yourself in need to build another display bedside table to decorate with trinkets you’ve received. It was relatively normal for you at least.

And the same could be said for Alhaitham. He can finally do his job with little to no inconvenience now that Azar and his corrupted lackeys aren’t around, banished off to the forests to do whatever is needed to compensate for their misgivings. The boring but doable work on a high pay returned and Alhaitham was at peace.

Up until Lesser Lord Kusanali came to his office, and with the tiny pitter patter of her feet against the cold floors of Akademiya, she walked to his desk with an expectant smile plastered on her adorable face.

Suddenly, Alhaitham was the Acting Grand Sage.

Great. More work for a considerably smaller increase in pay. How… productive and worth it.

And perhaps, that’s how you landed yourself in the confines of Alhaitham’s home in the dead of the night — at his request. His roommate was off and a few days prior after suddenly getting dragged into assisting him in catching another unhinged research with far too much talent yet little intent in seeing the bigger picture, he had asked you to come meet him at night. And he made it very clear to you that you come alone.

You were already aware of the Acting Grand Sage’s insinuation at this point. You’ve been through enough worlds and mingled with enough people to know the universal sign that is “come here alone tonight”.

Well, either you get laid, or… you will be laid in a coffin the next day.

Now here you sat, smiling a little as you sipped some water, watching Alhaitham dry off the droplets of water from his hair after a late night shower. You opted to look over some files strewn across the table to entertain yourself, trying to make sense of any of his work. Judging from the complicated nature of said paperwork, you figured he was already raring for some release. Or at the very least, a change of pace in learning something new other than the onslaught of mad researchers from Akademiya causing trouble for him to fix.

“I have some terms,” Alhaitham suddenly voiced out, pulling you out of your trance as you looked at him inquisitively. You nodded, letting him go on. “Nobody gets to hear a word of what will transpire tonight.”

“…I don’t think I even want anyone to know in the first place.”

He nodded before walking back to some shelves, “Also,” he grabbed a book and tossed it on the table, perfectly sliding towards you with the cover face up. “I’ve done some reading just to know what to expect.”

You huffed out a breath, disguising a genuinely amused laughter. Couldn’t your one night stand get any cuter? He wasn’t even trying too. He was so earnest and so serious, it was hard not to devour him right then and there. You placed your glass of water down the table sauntering up to him, grabbing the lecherous book that he apparently used to come into the battle prepared.

Alhaitham’s eyes widened as you wasted no time in closing the gap. His ears effectively reddening in a split second when he could feel your crotch rub up against his from the sheer proximity that you and the scribe had. There was even barely any room to breathe in the first place. His lips quivered a little as he looked to the side, avoiding your piercing gaze.

You tapped the corner of the book’s spine on his lips, while yours turned up in a sly grin, “Cast aside any expectation that this book have taught you, smart guy. I believe there is merit in learning from experience.” You tossed the book back as your lips latched onto the skin of his neck. You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent of his body wash. You could feel and hear him shiver from just that action alone, spurring you on to be bolder.

Of course Alhaitham knows that experience is a far better teacher than anything else. But how could he learn anything when the experience itself is detrimental to his sanity as he tried to comprehend your ministrations, from the way your hands were quick to attach themselves onto his narrow waist, your lips slowly mapping and conquering every inch of the skin of his neck, abused with bites that left bruises darker than the decorative rugs in his home.

You pulled away and he was left completely red, you leaned back to admire the work you’ve done on his neck and his collarbone, adorned with splotches of red from the abuse of your mouth.

But before Alhaitham could even recover, you went back in, but this time with your lips on his, “Try to keep up, smart guy. Here’s a crash course on how to kiss someone.”

Alhaitham could barely breathe, but even in the sweet suffocation, he tried to keep up with your lips. You made a mess out of him, your mischievous tongue dragging from the inside of his mouth to his lips to wet them. His jaw hurt and he was out of sorts, with drool dripping down to his chin while you sucked on his tongue, your hands under around his chin to keep him in place. He could only grab onto your shoulders, fingers squeezing against your flesh so tight while he closed his eyes shut, his chest heaving from the breathlessness when you refused to let up on him.

It was already dizzying — he knew you were aggressive on the battlefield, but had he known that you would be like this too, a little warning would’ve been nice.

And before he knew it, still with your lips latched onto his, he started to respond to your advances. Miraculously even with his clouded mind with that lusty haze, he was able to learn from your little techniques, kissing back with need and urgency, and you gladly welcomed him, letting him bite your lip as a test, return the favor as he sloppily sucked your tongue off with the charm of an inexperienced kisser.

It was a mess as you and him stumbled over to the his bedroom, with poor Alhaitham barely noticing until his back landed on the soft mattress of his bed. His eyes were glossed over, clearly in a daze as you pulled away, chuckling at the sight of the infamous stoic scribe who normally looks so put together come undone and become a complete mess with just a simple make out session.

You swiped a thumb over his wet lips, dragging it across his cheek and watched in delight when he slowly gained a bit of clarity.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, ‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham only scoffed, “You kiss so aggressively. A warning would’ve sufficed.”

“Aw c’mon. It’s just a little warmup,” you tugged into the hem of his shirt and he quickly got the hint, helping you take them off. You only watched in fascination as his body came into view. That tight shirt that he always wore doesn’t do his body justice. He was sculpted so perfectly that even you had to pause for a second to take in his beauty.

The scribe wasn’t fond of your ogling however, “…What?”

“Nothing… it’s just…” you couldn’t even resist the way your hands immediately gravitated towards his chest, palms flat against his pecs before steadily moving them to yours, comparing your sizes. “…Wow. You’re bigger than I am.”

“Do I get a trophy for that then?” Alhaitham quipped without missing a beat.

Unfortunately for him, you were quick-witted, cruel, and knew how to show someone a good time. And you gladly indulged his little jest as you bent down, cupping a hand around one chest, thumbing at his hardening nipple while you gave soft kitten licks on his other swollen bud. An electric feeling jolts through Alhaitham’s system and he could feel himself twitch against the restricting fabric of his pants.

You smirked against his skin, teeth grazing his sensitive nipple, making him jolt and grab onto the back of your head. You raised yourself, watching unabashed while Alhaitham tried to cover up his reddening face. Either this situation was embarrassing enough on it’s own or perhaps he was embarrassed that he liked what you did.

“D-Don’t… look at me like that,” came Alhaitham’s weak protest, voice shaking as he tried to avert his gaze.

“Getting all shy now?” You tilted your head, looking at him with so much amusement. You did not have an ounce of regret for offering jokingly in the first place. To see the hardheaded scribe fold like a shy maiden was something you never knew you needed. “Come now, Alhaitham, it’s not something to be ashamed about. Focus up, buddy. You said this is for research.”

“Quit… i— ah~! Quit it—!” He moaned in between hisses as you shifted your position, with one knee pressing up against his erection with much pressure. It was as if the soft spoken yet courageous hero revered across the lands suddenly disappeared — replaced by this mischievous teasing deviant that toyed with him so shamelessly.

“You make it so easy to tease you,” your hands slowly dragged themselves to the waistband of his pants, tugging at the band and snapping it against his skin. “Is this why our scribe— oh, sorry, our Grand Sage has to keep that no nonsense facade? So they won’t know that you’re just an adorable little boy?”

He clutched onto your wrists that threatened to free his cock from its constraint, “It’s Acting Grand Sage… and it’s not a facade— are you always this chatty when having sex with someone?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you,” you flashed him a grin and his grip on you slowly loosened, a wordless green light to finally see all of him. You obliged his little permission, tugging down his pants and stripping them off of him with little effort. Alhaitham made a subconscious effort of trying to shield himself from your prying eyes — never had he felt this vulnerable before, he could feel his entire body heat up just from the way you looked at him.

Meanwhile you were admiring every groove and curve that sculpted itself into this man’s body. You would most definitely be the envy of the entire Sumeru City had they known that you were the first man to have ever seen Alhaitham this way. Suddenly, the Acting Grand Sage’s term of not wanting anyone else to know about this engagement seemed so tempting to break.

You positioned yourself in between his legs, keeping them apart when Alhaitham so much as tried to close his legs on instinct, you cupped a hand around the base of his cock and relished in the tiny little yelp that left Alhaitham’s mouth, his back arching up in surprise.

“Already so hard, you truly are enjoying this,” you taunt, as if you weren’t feeling the same uncomfortable feeling in your tightening pants. With one hand, you dug into the pocket of your trousers, bringing out a packet of slime condensate and tearing it open, squeezing a handful on your fingers. “I think you know what this is for.”

Alhaitham only nodded, suddenly meek as the insinuation made its presence known. He read a lot for the sake of satiating the gnawing anticipation within him the moment he agreed with your little offer. Alhaitham, after all, never did nurture the bad habit of coming into a situation completely clueless and in the dark. But there was something far more dizzying at the feeling of your touches that could make him feverish, overtaking his senses like a fever dream that he could feel the whole way.

He shivered as your fingers pressed against his rim, drenched in cold lubrication. He lifted his hips out of instinct, his body slowly being compliant to your actions, readily following your bold lead. You took note of his actions, watching the way his chest heaved up in a frantic pace, clearly overwhelmed in anticipation.

“Try to relax,” you ought to soothe his anxieties. Sex isn’t something to be afraid of, after all. It’s meant to be enjoyed by the parties involved. He only nodded, a little strained but it was enough.

An uncharacteristic wail leaves Alhaitham’s mouth as you plunged two fingers inside him. He was warm, his walls already clenching around your digits that were barely even halfway inside. He shifted, hips wriggling at the discomfort. You distracted him from the sensation and slowly worked your other hand around his erection, pumping at a gentle pace.

Alhaitham felt breathless, the haze in his mind continuing to muddle any form of coherent thought that he tried to make. He whimpered quietly as the embarrassment slowly flooded in. He could barely gather himself as you’re jerking him off while fucking him with your fingers, any sense of awareness leaving him bit by bit, replaced with the unencumbered lust that you were holding over him with your ministrations.

“Feels good?” Your words barely registered in his usually sharp mind. He nodded frantically, hands clutching the sheets underneath him. It felt all too good, with your precise hands, from the way you prod around his gummy walls to how you teasingly thumb at the slit of his cockhead, it was an overwhelming pleasure that Alhaitham was suddenly being exposed to.

You weren’t any better. Who knew Alhaitham could look so erotic, his body almost close into going in an autopilot as he responded to your touch with little to no shame. The whimpers and cries that echoed in the room were music to your ears, a blessing to indulge yourself in.

It was hard to hold yourself back from just fucking him into oblivion, and your sentiments wee shared as another cry left Alhaitham.

“M-More~” he whined, completely insatiable as he yearned for something bigger. Your fingers weren’t enough. He needs to feel full, something that could stretch him out until he could barely think. He opened his eyes, bleary with lust and carnal need in comparison to yours that were gleaming with concentration and hunger. “M-More please~” he parroted, unable to find any more words to beg you.

You could feel any form of restraint leaving you as his pleading reached you, already shooting straight down to your dick that twitched in anticipation and raw excitement. You immediately pulled your fingers away, shivering at the moan that you drew out of the man underneath you. Your hands quickly worked to free your own cock, hard and throbbing as it slapped against your stomach. There was a sense of satisfaction that washed over you at the way Alhaitham’s eyes grew wide when he saw you, like a cold water drenching him and pulling him back down to reality.

“Is… that even going to fit?” Alhaitham’s sudden reluctance was all the more endearing, making you laugh.

“I prepared you, didn’t I? But hey, the confidence solely lies on you. If you think you can’t handle it, best we quit ahead.”

He swallowed a lump down his throat before looking at you with a much more determined gaze, “I— N-No… I need to see it through.”

“You can hold my hand if you want,” you offered, lending out your own hand. Normally, Alhaitham would swat it away but did otherwise as he held yours, feeling feverish all of a sudden at the intimacy.

He could feel himself shrink as you positioned yourself in between his legs, towering over him with a reassuring smile. His thighs quivered around you while you lined yourself up in his entrance. He shuddered as your cockhead slowly rubbed up against his entrance, making him writhe in anticipation. Alhaitham met your gaze, suddenly considerate in contrast to your teasing self earlier.

“Don’t think too much of it,” you reassured him one last time. “Just ride out everything that you’re feeling.” You said and he nodded, soaking up every word of yours as he took a deep breath.

Alhaitham jolts at the sudden intrusive feeling once you ease yourself inside him inch by inch. He was quick to clench around your cock and you stopped, heaving a shaky sigh as the feeling of his warm walls around you bring you complete and utter bliss.

“Fuck… so tight, ‘Haitham,” you breathed out, a pleased hiss from your lips with every pulsating clench his walls made around your cock.

The scribe could barely process the feeling as he slowly took you in, his hole squeezing your length while you continued to push inside until you’re buried to the hilt. His hand squeezed around yours tightly as he tried to take in your words earlier and ride out any form of sensation that racked through his body. He could already feel the numbing pleasure rake in his system as the overwhelming sensation continued to eat away at his sensibilities.

You stilled yourself as you watched every expression Alhaitham’s pretty face contorted into. You only swept away his fringe away from his forehead that’s already dotted with beads of sweat and continued to observe him. You’ve never been this considerate when it comes to fucking someone, but given the fact that Alhaitham was just far too adorable, you made a conscious effort to be more gentle in his first time.

It didn’t take long before Alhaitham slowly rolled his hips, in terrible need for some more friction, “Y-You can move…” he stammered, still with his hand clutching onto yours so tightly.

You grinned a little before drawing your hips back and giving a testing thrust, pushing out a choked moan from the scribe, to which you greedily indulged in. Leaning in, you only gave a quick kiss on the shell of his ear before whispering;

“Don’t fall in love now.”

Alhaitham merely scoffed at your little taunt.

As if he would.

Miscalculations are rare in Alhaitham’s lifetime. Often times he’s mapped out every single action to consider to ensure a smooth sailing plan that he has to execute. Failure was a rare occurrence in the scribe— sorry, the Acting Grand Sage’s roster. He has yet to achieve a failure so spectacular that it puts his roommate to shame.

However, the way his eyes lingered on your form while you went about your day while you extended your stay in Sumeru was quick to tell him that the very idea of a miscalculation may not be so far-fetched in the first place.

And he absolutely loathed it.

It had been days since his… little research that you aided him in. Days since he felt the wonderful bliss of the mind numbing pleasure that only left his mind completely broken and incoherent. Days since he could feel the way your hands roamed around with such preciseness that every touch you left on him left him completely breathless. It had been days.

So then why? Why does he feel the same exhilaration whenever you were in the vicinity?

Why could he not push the thoughts of that night in the back of his mind? It was a skill he mastered that procured his unbothered persona. But the memories persisted like a parasite, latching onto his poor mind as it replayed the same night over and over again;

“H-Hah~! T-Too much already—!” Poor Alhaitham slurred, words barely able to convey while he held onto your hand for dear life, his eyes rolling at the back of his head while you pounded into him without an ounce of mercy. The bed creaked so violently under your movements, and his body shook in overstimulation.

“Just a little more, baby boy, one more, yeah?” You licked your lips hungrily, a predatory gaze flashing through your eyes as you devoured your prey.

Alhaitham winced as he slowly arched his back, suddenly feeling restless in his usual seat outside of Puspa café. Of all places, why couldn’t you have decided to chat with the nearby vendors. Where he can hear you and bury his mind into a delusion of bliss after hearing those sinful sounds from you when you bedded him that night. It was torture.

It was like a siren’s call, beckoning for him to give into his temptation. Except it was an excruciating thing to experience, drowning in that voice of yours that he could no longer hear normally.

“Oh! Isn’t that Alhaitham there?” He had to hide another grimace as the familiar shrill voice of your traveling companion echoed.

“So it is, let’s go say hi,” you smiled while you walked over to him, inviting yourself in without an ounce of embarrassment, like you didn’t make a mess out of him that particular night. “Been awhile.”

He could only stiffly nod before turning back to his book, “Mhm.”

“Yeesh! You’re just as cold as always! Hmph! Well, whatever. Paimon is going to get some food for herself.”

And just like that, there was silence in both of your company.

“Hey, you look really tense,” you frowned in concern and Alhaitham only continued to read into his book with an absent concentration that only served him to read the first lines of the paragraph over and over again. “I didn’t scare you now, did I?”

Alhaitham shuddered as the feeling of your touch slowly took over when your hands grazed by his shoulder in an attempt to console him. And the hauntingly addicting touches of yours continued to resurface in his mind.

A wanton squeal escapes Alhaitham as your fingers dug deep into the skin of his waist. He had little to no escape with the way you held him, hands completely sinking into his supple flesh to keep him in place. There was a rush of excitement that flooded Alhaitham’s system when you took hold of him in such a manner — possessive and almost desperate.

His already spent dick twitched at the notion, the very idea of you being all over him and wanting no one else but him. He wanted you to feel the same feeling that slowly poisoned his thoughts — that you would enjoy him just as much as he was enjoying you being so deep inside him.

He panted, short huffs leaving his wet lips that you vigorously licked, kissed, and bit until the both of you could taste his blood. He was a mess, from the marks on his collar down to the way even your fingertips made their bruising mark when you manhandled him.

Suddenly those touches burned through his skin, like you left them there just seconds ago. He was slowly feeling feverish. He could still remember which parts of him you touched, the way the uncomfortable feeling of your grip pressing against his soft skin was enough to get him on a state of frenzy.

You were far too intoxicating.

And without even an ounce of warning, he was suddenly met with your skeptic expression, clear as a day as you drew yourself nearer to his side, with your face a mere inch away from his. He could feel your even breathing, and could see those heavenly eyes of yours that peered through your thick lashes as you continued to put him on the spot with your own form of scrutiny.

“Tell me the truth, I didn’t scare you away from what happened nights ago, did I?”

He resisted the urge to swallow thickly — you may not be as smart as he is, but you were perceptive, already proven by the mere fact that you were quick to guess that his strange actions towards you did indeed stem from that amorous engagement you and him explored. Unable to focus on your minuscule concern, his gaze drifted down to your lips that formed into a frown, with your bottom lip jutting out a little in a very subtle pout.

Those lips. That mouth that often spoke of every proclamation and promise to aid whoever was in need of help, no matter how annoyingly minuscule the requests are.

His ears burned under his noise-cancelling headphones, finding himself completely unable to shut out the loud thrumming of his heart against his chest.

Who would’ve thought that mouth of yours were just as capable of delving into something incredibly lewd — that mouth that spoke valor suddenly speaking in the most flustering taunts that drove him over the edge.

Sobs spilled out from Alhaitham’s quivering lips, tears already flooding his ducts while you rutted into him like a dog in heat. The desperation in your thrusts were pushing up against his nearing release as your cock continued to abuse his prostate.

The overwhelming pleasure didn’t help as you busied yourself on his chest. You couldn’t leave it alone, your mouth already latching onto one of his sensitive and perky buds. Your tongue swirled against his swollen nipple and tore out another loud moan from the scribe. He was helpless against your ministrations. He could feel his stomach stir despite the fact that he was so sure he couldn’t cum anymore.

His hand shakily raked through the back of your head, biting his lip to keep himself composed.

You swiped your tongue against his nipple, looking up at him with a devious smirk, “Are you sure nothing’s coming out of these?”

“‘M… not a woman—” he protests in a weak voice, raspy from all the screams you drew out of him from coaxing orgasm after orgasm from him. “S-Stop saying that…”

“Getting embarrassed again?” You grinned, drawing your hips before snapping back into him, making him whine from the raw pleasure. “Aren’t you just the cutest~”

He isn’t. He’s far from such a description. Alhaitham knows that well. He was the intimidating figure of Akademiya, with his unbothered stoicism that could leave anyone scampering without the intention of screwing him over in the first place. But he hates how you’ve rendered him completely useless with just your words and subtle touches that quickly disarmed his guard that he put up several times already.

He loathes the mere fact that he couldn’t get you out of his head. Surely not all people that go through one night stands invoke such feelings of warm fondness towards someone they aren’t meant to be attached to. He’s not supposed to feel flustered just at the mere sight of you. He’s not supposed to feel vulnerable with your smiles. And he’s not supposed to feel the tempting submission with every touch you left on his body.

Alhaitham was quick to push your face away before running a hand through his own with a begrudging sigh, “…I am currently undergoing through a crisis. Please let me acquire some space for a good few minutes.”

He hates your dichotomy — from your ridiculously odious attitude when you fucked him, to your sudden gentleness when you were done and even the subsequent days after that.

You nodded in understanding (something he’d grown to fondly hate as well) with a patient smile, “Of course. How ‘bout I go get us some baklava? My treat.”

Your offer was oddly reminiscent of your aftercare too.

“Hope you can forgive the roughness. It’s your first time too,” he paid no heed to your apology. In fact, you’ve nothing to apologize for when you’ve granted him such a good fuck for his first time. He only relished in the feeling of your ghostly kisses against the bruises you made on him. “I’ll go get you some water. Need anything else?”

He was already dozing off by then.

He waved you off, more than eager to get you out of the way as the realizations slowly linked themselves in his constantly running mind.

Alhaitham dragged a hand over his face, repressing the urge to groan when he remembered your little taunt before this all happened.

“Don’t fall in love now.”

And damn it did he fall hard.

#i am an idiot #but a simp #anyway #i am very late #but heeeeyyyy better late than never 😭#genshin impact x male reader #alhaitham x male reader #sub genshin impact #sub alhaitham #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #jhuzen’s shameless filth #there’s an hsr post i’m posting minutes after this #tall 2d husbands go brrrr in my gay little head

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 8 months

Text

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 2

Summary: A couple of days after the sketch, things got a bit more complicated than what you expected

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of blood/sex/abuse, bit of violence, Astarion is a bit of a bitch but what's new, physical touch as a love language, first kiss, fluff

A/N: Enjoy the second part of this Astarion fic, here you can find Part 1 <3 (i wanted to post this tomorrow but i don't know how to queue posts correctly so @tripleyeeet @yn-ymn-yln enjoy!)

\_/

The cold light of the moon woke you up. It had slithered into your tent, bathing your pillow —and thus your face— with its silvery shine. You turned around, trying to fall back into your warm slumber, but with no luck.

Your head started roaming, thinking too much about everything. About the last few days and the subtle changes in Astarion’s behavior, his lingering gazes and the tension that stiffened his body every time you happened to tug him playfully or accidentally bump into him.

It was confusing, to say the least; making you rethink everything and pondering twice on every word you said before even uttering it.

With an irritated sigh, you pulled yourself up, sitting on your blankets as you stretched your neck and sore muscles. With another groan, you put on your boots and then walked outside.

The fire had burnt out, leaving behind just a few glowing embers that were bound to soon become cold, lifeless ash. The air stung the bare skin of your arms, colder than what you expected. You soon got used to it, thankful to that chillness for waking you up. Apart from a couple of owls shrieking in the distance and the snoring coming from some of the tents surrounding you, the camp was calm, a small Eden…

A rustling of leaves broke the silence, followed by some muffled swearing. Before you could reach for the dagger in your boot, a figure stumbled out of the woods, barely keeping themselves up. After a couple of unbalanced steps, the silhouette managed to stop, taking a deep breath as he straightened up, passing his hands through his silver hair.

“Astarion?”

“Oh.”

The moment he noticed it was you in the shadows, Astarion quickly passed his hands on his shirt, brushing away the leaves and branches that had stuck on the fabric. Then his signature smile was back on his lips, his grin as smug as ever as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“Hello, darling.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I was performing my duty and keeping watch.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he scanned you, his eyes moving slowly up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged, trying to ignore his piercing gaze. “Too many thoughts.”

“Ah, yes.” He nodded, his focus shifting to his fingers. “I am familiar with the notion.”

You watched closely as he picked his nails. What you first mistook for a nervous fidgeting revealed to be something different, a thorough cleaning that also had to do with the red streaks on his shirt —barely visible in the darkness— and those same scarlet hues that painted his fingers and the corners of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes, putting both of your hands on your hips; in the same way your mother used to when she found out you had done something that was against her rules.

“Why were you lurking in the forest?”

He chuckled, showing the tip of his canines and his teeth, still blood stained. “Lurking… such an evil word. I’m almost flattered.”

Astarion looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to indulge him in his jokes the same way you often did since you had become… friends? Close acquaintances? Occasional lovers? The label on your relationship —if you could even call it that— seemed to change with every new dawn.

Whatever you two could be considered, you stared unimpressed at him with your hands glued to your hips.

“I was just having a midnight snack,” he explained with a shrug, his head tilting backwards against the tree but without ever leaving your eyes. “You can stop torturing that pretty brain of yours now.”

“I thought we had an agreement.” You took a step forward as you frowned in confusion. “I feed you so you can stay strong and defend us.”

Defend me.

“That was the deal,” you continued, ignoring those few words stuck in your throat.

“Indeed it was.”

Astarion was still looking at you, staring into your eyes as he always did —with a grin plastered to his face— but there was something different in them this time. A dark glimmer you had only seen when he was on the battlefield. The look he reserved only to his enemies.

Your entire body crumbled in confusion, your face losing its frown, your arms falling on your sides in defeat. “Then why didn’t you ask?”

You hated how your voice almost cracked at the end of that sentence. How small you felt, how desperate as you begged for an explanation, and all of this, because of that softness near the fire.

After that night and the sudden indifference that followed, you had wondered many times if you had misunderstood that look in his eyes. If that tenderness you felt in his touch had never been there in the first place but created by your delusional mind, always craving for something more. Something real.

Or worse, if he had faked it so well that you had fallen for it.

Astarion’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he moved from the tree and stepped in front of you. You cursed mentally when your breath caught in your throat.

“You were sleeping too peacefully for me to disturb you,” he murmured, taking your chin in his fingers. His nails grazed your skin but you bit down a yelp of discomfort.

“But I’m glad to see that you’re as eager to help as always.” With a flick of his wrist, Astarion hit the bottom of your chin. “That’s what I like about you.”

It didn’t hurt, you had endured much worse treatments in your lifetime, but you knew it was not meant to. Not physically at least. You felt the strike tear into your belittled pride, his condescending tone ripping through it like teeth in the flesh.

“You didn’t want to disturb my sleep,” you repeated, your voice almost trembling in anger.

He took a step back, his arms open as he shrugged with a smirk until his back met the bark of the tree once again. “That is what I said, darling.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Like that’s stopped you before.”

As you waited for a sassy retort that didn’t come, Astarion remained silent as he crossed his arms. His eyes wandered away from yours to the deeper and darkest parts of the forest where the light of the moon couldn’t get past the thick canopy. You couldn’t tell if his elven ears had sensed something you were physically incapable to, or if he was just ignoring you like he did the past few days.

Before you could stop it, your tadpole squirmed behind your eye, reaching for Astarion. Searching for answers he wasn’t willing to give you with his own mouth. You managed to get only a glimpse of that darkness behind his eyes —an anger that he was barely able to contain— before your conscience smacked against a wall.

At the same time, Astarion’s head snapped towards you. “Did you really try to slither into my mind?”

An irritated surprise dripped from his voice, but you caught the flash of betrayal that crossed his face.

“I’m sorry.”

You pressed your palms to your eyeballs, trying to get rid of the prickly sensation of blooming tears. You took that moment in the black void to put your thoughts back into place; to calm your racing heart and give some sense to the storm raging in your head. “I just want to understand what’s going on, if I did something-”

“Why do you even care if I feed on you or not?”

Another wave of confusion washed over you as your hands fell to your sides. “What?”

“It sure must be draining for you,” —with a smooth movement, he pushed himself away from the tree— “letting me drink your blood every other day. Yet you always come through.” He smiled, his teeth poking through his grin almost menacingly. “So zealous and happy to please.”

He started circling you, like a murder of crows over a carcass. A sense of unease started creeping up on you, sending shivers down your spine as you followed closely his movements. You didn’t think he wanted to kill you, but if he put his mind to it, he probably could.

“But the question remains…” He took a step towards you, close enough for you to smell the blood stuck on his clothes. You moved backwards, immediately hitting a tree in your way. Astarion stood in front of you, his eyes almost piercing your soul. “Why do you do it?”

“You said it yourself,” you said calmly even though the blood in your veins had never pumped so quickly, “you’re stronger when you drink-”

He chuckled, clapping once his hands together. “I fear my point is not really coming across, so I’ll rephrase my question. What do you gain from that?”

“I… I don’t think I-”

Your words were cut when Astarion’s hand wrapped around your neck. He leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin and waking up a desire that was entirely uncalled for while you stared into the eyes of a predator.

“Sex, darling.” His whisper ran down your spine, shaking you to your core. “That’s what you gain from it.”

Memories flowed in your brain and you couldn’t tell if it was you who brought them up or Astarion. The digging of teeth in your throat and the metallic scent of your own blood stuffing the air around hit you harder than a sledgehammer. You were back on the ground, pinned down between him and the dirt. His hands held you down as he drank, roaming over your clothes, unclasping buckles and grasping handful of flesh.

There was the aching between your legs and the release that followed when his undivided attention moved from your neck to the rest of your body. And above all else, the pleasure of being wanted.

“That was not in the deal.” You shook your head as much as you could while your neck was still in his grip. “It’s something between us and you also gain from it.”

“I gain nothing from it.”

His grip tightened around around your throat as he hissed in your face, his nails digging a little too deep into your skin. Your tadpole squirmed, anticipating a wave of disgust and shame that shook every nerve and cell in your brain. You squeezed your eyes, almost overwhelmed by the revulsion pouring into you.

“You started it.”

You still remembered the first time it happened, a week or two into your agreement. Slightly light-headed from the blood loss, when Astarion moved away from your neck it took you a second to realize that he hadn’t left. He was still there, looking down on you with blood still dripping from his mouth.

“I could ease your pain, if you want. Just this one time.” His hand accompanied his words, slowly gliding down your chest and along your thighs. “But you have to ask first.”

Then it happened again. And again. And again. And then there was not one time when he fed on you that he didn’t eat twice.

You swallowed the memory, your throat barely moving in his grip. “If you didn’t want it then why-”

“Manipulation, sweetheart!” Astarion widened his arms, posing dramatically and thankfully freeing your neck. “I saw an opportunity to bring you to my side and I took it. It was instinctive, really,” he continued with a shrug as you massaged your sore neck, “almost too easy creating a connection between pain and pleasure so you’d feed me willingly.”

A crease appeared between his eyebrows while his face crumpled in a pained expression. “It didn’t matter what it took to achieve it as long as it served me and my safety.”

Despite the fear still screaming inside, despite every survival instinct left in you, you stretched out your hand to him. Your fingertips brushed his bare forearm for a mere moment before he pulled away, his face distorted by an angry smile.

“But you have outplayed me.” He clapped slowly, loud enough for an animal nearby to scatter away in fear. “Bravo to you.”

You shook your head, even more lost than before. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you truly think me so foolish?”

His scream left his mouth like a curse, raw and jagged at the edges as his hand clenched his shirt right above his heart. The smug facade had crumbled, leaving behind a boiling anger that contorted his face. You heard more scattering in the forest: a rustling of leaves, flutters of wings, terrified chirps and squeaks as all the creatures in the surrounding area ran away.

Not you though. Immobile as the tree you were pressed against, you stood where you were, looking Astarion straight into his eyes as he pointed his finger to your face.

“You hide behind words of selflessness but you’re playing with me just as all the others before you. Always wanting,” he hissed, despair slowly filling his eyes as he lowered his hand and raised his chin, “always pushing for more.”

You clenched your jaw as the lump in your throat grew with every new arrow that Astarion aimed at your heart. “You’re painting me as someone I’m not.”

He scoffed again, as if your words were the mere whining of a spoiled kid. Taking another step closer to you, you could almost feel his anger blurring the air around him, its heat tingling on your skin.

“Then what was that? That desire next to the fire?” He tilted his head as his index moved up along your neck. “For a moment there, when I looked at the portrait you made, I thought you actually cared,” —his lips trembled with ache— “that I wasn’t just the pleasure I pushed you to want… but then I touched you and I saw it.” Astarion grabbed your chin tightly, making you impossible to look away. “That craving in your eyes.”

He leaned even closer, until your faces were barely apart.

“What did you want so badly?”

Finally all the pieces of the puzzle that you’d been gathering in the last few days finally snapped together. The blur in your head cleared and everything —or at least, most of it— started making sense once again. Sighing shakily your relief, your fingers slowly reached for the steel hand clawing to your chin

“I just wanted that,” you whispered as your fingertips brushed the pale skin of his hand. “That soft, kind touch.”

His muscles tensed under your touch, but this time Astarion didn’t jolt away. Inhaling sharply, he let you encase his fingers in yours, gradually loosening his grip around your face.

“The interest that you showed in me, the pleasure you gave me,” you shook your head, your gaze lowered on your joined hands. “It was flattering and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but I always knew it wasn’t entirely genuine. However, that closeness,” —your thumb moved almost instinctively as it caressed the back of his hand— “that softness you showed me…”

Your gaze snapped back up to him as you tried to breathe in as much air as you could. “I just wanted more of that intimacy.”

Astarion remained silent for a while, looking into your eyes as if —by not breaking eye contact with you— he would be able to catch a crack in your act.

When your tadpole squirmed, sensing Astarion’s doubt as he searched for more reassurance than just your words, you didn’t oppose any resistance. You pushed down the tiny ache of knowing that he still didn’t trust you completely and let your truest emotions come to the surface.

The moment the realization hit him, the anger on his face disappeared into thin air like smoke after a fire; all that was left behind was a broken relief. Astarion took a few steps back, letting go of your hand as he turned his back to you. He threw his head back and took a deep breath in, his hands planted on his slender waist.

As you followed him from a distance, you noticed a movement coming from one of the tents. Wyll was looking at you, his eyebrows creasing in worry as they keep darting from your face to Astarion, who was now pacing back and forth on the grass.

You wondered how long he had been standing there. How much he had seen. The mere thought made you feel extremely exposed, as though your clothes had suddenly became invisible to the naked eye. You silently reassured Wyll, your tadpole squirming even more behind your eyes while connecting to the warlock’s. You waved quickly at him, responding to his small smile, before he disappeared back into his tent.

You exhaled slowly, moving your gaze back to Astarion. He was still giving you his back, however he stood still under the moonlight, his hair almost reflecting the silvery rays. He looked like the moon itself: so beautiful, and yet so unreadable.

A sudden thought crossed your mind, the question that had been bugging you since the start of that entire ordeal, and to which you hadn’t got an answer yet. You took a deep as you got ready to utter those words, terrified of what the answer was going to be. Scared that the response would break your heart.

“Was it real, that kindness?”

Your voice trembled, barely able to contain the worry that threatened to spill from your eyes. “Or was it just another ruse of yours?”

Astarion turned around. His face was scarred by hurting despite the smile that was pulling his face.

“Of course it was real.” He held out his hands, almost trying to grasp the words he needed, before his arms fell back to his sides. “Otherwise, it would’ve made keeping you away much less painful to bear.”

You had never seen him look so helpless, so defenseless as he stared at you. Your heart broke at seeing him like, but there was still joy gushing through the cracks as you moved towards him. Taking those last few steps that kept you apart, you stopped only when your bodies were just a breath away.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Moving carefully, you pushed your fingers forth until they gently brushed his hand. Once more, he tensed under your touch but didn’t move away.

“I’m not like you, darling.” His smug smile made a brief appearance before it split into an aching wince. “I don’t open up easily.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, which gained you a raised eyebrow from him. “It took me over a month to bring myself to sketch in front of anyone else. Honestly, I might be more mysterious than you are.”

Astarion scoffed playfully. “Darling, I am a riddle in vampire form: forever unknowable.” As you softly chuckled, his fingers moved and hooked onto yours. “However, I must admit that your secrecy is… very intriguing.”

“There’s nothing that interesting about my life,” you admitted softly, lowering your gaze. “It’s been a pretty boring existence before meeting you and the others.”

A second later, two fingers moved your chin up until your eyes were back into Astarion’s. Your breath stopped for a second when they moved along your jaw before gently cupping your cheek.

“There is —and never will be— nothing boring about you, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your cheek as you stood still, too scared that he would take it back to move even the smallest muscle. “And even if there was, I’d be happy to hear all the tedious details. And perhaps contribute with some exciting tales if things do get too boring.”

You shook your head with a chuckle, gently tugging his hand. “I expected nothing less from you.”

He grinned, his hand moving down your neck and then brushing along your arm. “Am I already becoming so predictable?”

Before you could answer, Astarion wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his face. He placed your palm on his cheek and leaned into it. You immediately felt the tension in his clenched jaw, the sharp breath he took in and the way his fingers tightened around your hand.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” you whispered softly.

“Trust me, I do.” He closed his eyes as he leaned more into your touch. “I want to feel your fingers trace my features and remind me of their existence. I’m just…” —he inhaled and exhaled shakily, before a small grin appeared on his face, “adjusting to it, you know?”

You nodded with a smile. You understood completely as your palm adapted to the edges of Astarion’s face, to his heat —slightly lower than yours— and to the way your cheeks were also flushing as you watched Astarion slowly relax into your touch.

Freeing your other hand from his grip, you cupped his face and gently pulled him with you as you sat on the grass beneath. The ground was moist, the due dotting the stems slightly dampening your pants, but that was the last thing that could bother you in that moment.

When Astarion sat in front of you, you leaned forward, kneeling as you pointed at his crossed legs with a nod. “Can I sit there?”

A mischievous glint shone in his eyes, something you should’ve expected, but you shook your head, your serious frown never leaving your face. “And feel free to tell me to go fuck myself if you don’t want to, because I will.”

His hands had moved to your hips before you were finished, pulling you in his lap as his smirk grew even wider. “Oh, I’m sure you gladly would, wouldn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head and biting your lower lip as your cheeks started burning up. “Shut up.”

Then your thumbs moved, circling on his cheekbones. Astarion closed his eyes for a moment, his eyelids shuddering at every brush of your fingertips. His fingers dug slightly into your hips when the warmth of your hands left his cheeks to the chill air of the night; when your fingers started wandering on the rest of his face. You traced his eyebrows and then moved your fingertips along his nose and back up, always under Astarion’s scarlet gaze. When you passed them on his forehead, the tension in his face disappeared under your touch. It was almost like a spell, some secret magic that your hands had always possessed but kept hidden from everyone, even from you.

While your fingers moved almost on their own along those features you knew like the back of your hand, you studied those smaller details that you couldn’t make out from a distance. The wrinkles and circles around his eyes, the small imperfections in his otherwise flawless skin.

“See anything you like?”

You smiled, mirroring his grin, as your indexes followed his smile lines until they brushed the corner of his lips. “What’s there not to like.”

“Good answer.” His smirk grew wider as his hand cupped your face. “Please, don’t hold any compliment back.”

Your thumb brushed over his lips, pulling down ever so slightly his bottom lip. “The same goes for you, fangs.”

Astarion cocked his eyebrow. “Fangs, really?”

“It’s cute, don’t you think?” You passed a hand through his hair, noticing the way his lips slightly fell open when you did. “Just like you.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I would never use that word to describe me, darling. Not in a thousand years.”

His hands left your hips and moved to your face, caressing your cheeks before gliding to the back of your head. Your breath hung in your throat as he stroked your hair; as he pulled your face closer to his until your foreheads touched.

“But I have to admit, it sounds quite nice when you pronounce it.” His whisper hit your skin, warm and intoxicating, setting your face —your entire body— aflame. His fingers traced your mouth, a feather touch that you were not expecting.

“Perhaps,” he breathed again, even closer than before, “your lips could transform any monster in a docile and submissive creature.”

“Is that a request?”

“More a suggestion. For another time, perhaps. ” His fingers moved along your jaws, dreadfully slow. “But I wouldn’t mind a taste.”

His other hand, still wrapped on the back of your hand, pulled you in but your lips didn’t meet. Your fingers, that you had moved on his mouth, were keeping him away. When he moved back, eyes narrowed in confusion, Astarion was met with a mischievous grin.

“You should ask more nicely, fangs.”

His confusion was soon replaced by a pleased glimmer in his eyes. He snorted before cupping your cheek with his hand, his half-lidded gaze on you.

“May I taste your lips, darling?”

The low growl in his voice sent shivers down your spine, stirring your insides like a boiling stew, but you weren’t done. Not yet. You leaned in, stopping inches away from his face as your thumbs kept stroking his cheeks.

“I said nicely, fangs.”

Under your eyes, Astarion swallowed, his tongue darting in between his teeth and licking quickly his lips before he grinned.

“Please?”

“Very good.”

Your whisper brushed against his mouth a second before yours pressed softly on it, in a kiss so different from the rawness you were used to with him. So sweet and calm, even when he kissed you back, slowly opening and closing his lips on yours. He was in no rush as his hands stroked your hair, as they tentatively moved on your shoulders and along your bare arms —sending shivers alone your spine as he did so— until they covered yours. His fingers were almost trembling as they intertwined with yours.

You gently pulled back, gasping for air as you looked him in the eyes. They were still studying you, scarlet pools reading into the darkest depths of your soul and seeing things that they couldn’t understand yet. You weren’t used to that emotional closeness, to someone else being able to see you and wanting to know more.

It was terrifying, no denying that; but also kind of exhilarating.

Astarion smiled, almost as if he had just read your mind —and maybe, he really had. Nudging his nose against your cheek, he squeezed your hands in his.

“I believe you will truly ruin me, my dear.”

“For good or for worse?”

He kissed your lips again, a quick kiss but somehow deeper than before that left your head spinning even when he pulled back and shrugged. “That’s still to be determined.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd #astarion ancunin #astarion fic

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diejager · 2 months

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Cw DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, dark cbf!Johnny, smut, manipulation, kissing, groping, teasing, tell me if I missed any. Since tumblr removed this post a few minutes ago, I’m reporting it! I’m not sure if it was removed because someone reported it or the AI found it or smt, but I always have a back up :)

Your mother had always cooed at how close you were with Johnny, an unbroken and loyal friendship that she hoped would keep even when you grew older, changing schools and moving to find work. She thought it an innocent thing, adorable and cherishable in every sense knowing that Johnny was a strong and aspiring man, he would be able to protect you and help you in your time of need. And he did, Johnny was glued to you by the hip, following you everywhere you went and stared at you with devoted and desperate eyes. You could trust Johnny with everything, even your deepest and darkest secrets.

When you confessed to Johnny that you watched your friends kiss, the naked love in their eyes shining through, and felt a slight twinge of curiosity and envy in your heart, he showed you how it felt to kiss with love. Johnny hid you in his room, fingers curled around your hair and pulling you forwards, his lips warm and soft against yours. He kissed you with intent, a hot and churning love that had you whimpering and clinging onto him, melting in his arms while he moved your lips to his beat. It took your breath away, instilling a burning fire in your heart, the young embers of a bonfire that would light up your heart with a booming throb. Despite you gasps and shortness of breath, you sought Johnny for a second and a third kiss, leaning towards him with pouted lips.

You were only 13 when you gave your first kiss to the perfectly plumps lips of your best friend.

When you caught boys groping their girlfriends in public areas, unabashed about their affection being perceived as lewd or inappropriate for the public, and gossiped with Johnny about how weird it was to grope someone - even a lover - in public was and that it should be kept indoors, especially when one would moan or yelp, Johnny explained it to you with his body. You were left in your house’s living room, parents off to work and leaving you two alone at home, he groped you, his rougher fingers kneading your pubescent body. Johnny squeezed the curve of your hips, trailing down your plush thighs and up your ass until you gasped in shock before it turned into mewls, little, breathy sounds that encouraged Johnny to do more. He slid his hand beneath your shirt and pinched your perked nipples, rolling your little nubs between his thumb and index while you arched, writhing so much that Johnny had to straddle you to keep you from moving too much.

You were only shy of 15 when you felt the first dribble of slick down your ass from your childhood best friend’s hands.

When you shared to Johnny all the stories of your friends losing their virginity - the V-card, they called it, as if it were something worth losing or giving without much though - and all the brutish and callous ways they spoke of it, you edged on shock and apprehension about such a thing, Johnny promised he would show you how important it was to give it to someone worth your time and heart —him.

“Ye trust me, dinnae ye,” he whispered your name so reverently, his breath tickling your nape as he pressed himself into you.

You do, your trust Johnny with your whole life, but you were still unsure about it. You were nervous with how optimistic Johnny was about taking your virginity as much as he was to give you his, and yet, despite your fears, you still gave yourself to him because he was your trusted, childhood best friend. Johnny fucked you amaturish but devoted snaps of his hips, rocking into you until you cried out his name whenever he bumped into something gummy and sensitive inside of you. You bled, but the pain never persisted, it was quickly swallowed by pleasure, waves of drowning ecstasy that numbed your mind and wracked your body with tremors. You saw the appeal in losing your virginity, to succumb to the pleasure of sex and give yourself to someone you truly loved and trusted.

You were only 17 when you felt the uncut and hard cock of your childhood best friend.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @rainbowsabre @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x reader smut #Dark childhood best friend!Johnny #cbf!soap #tw: dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #tw: dub con #tw: non con #tw: manipulation

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thesunisatangerine · 4 months

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playing for keeps – preview

alexia putellas x childhoodfriend!barçaplayer!reader

warning: light angst

status: work in progress

(a/n in the tags) [parts: preview]

The car ride was deafening in its silence.

In Alexia’s defense, she’d done everything she could to fill it: she’d tried asking you about your flight and when that didn’t work, she started talking football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt; inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning back to Barça–solicited for the reason that made you inclined to come back. Heck, she even tried to get you talking by mentioning things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now.

For every question, you’d given her the same kind of nothing. A yes, a no, or a hum. There was a weight in your chest that exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a seemingly impossible task for the tiredness in your bones, your soul. So you excused yourself, told her it was the jet lag, and you saw the way the light in her eyes dimmed with disappointment, training them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line of silence.

You still knew the language of her face and body–how could you not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–to perceive that she wasn’t entirely convinced with what you just said because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar. The thought provided little comfort, made your chest heavier with guilt even, another stone dropped into the pitcher.

The feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew, ‘Way to treat the person who took time out of their precious night to drive you to your apartment when she could be using that time to rest for tomorrow’s practice. How nice.’

And then, another.

‘Just like how you treated Olivia, right?’

The reminder made you close your eyes from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from its place in a wound newly closed, and you tried to prevent the tears’ impending arrival but the darkness that followed served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer, the words ever louder.

“I’m so stupid! So stupid…”

“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”

A touch on your arm startled you back to the present, the jostle from the gasp you let out just enough to make a tear fall, and you found Alexia with her eyes on you, concern and a question reflected in their light.

The car had stopped, parked outside of your apartment complex.

“What’s wrong?” Soft was the way she spoke the words but the look she laid upon you was even more gentle. Your heart lurched–away or towards her, you weren’t sure–and you ached, and for what exactly, you didn’t know but the question made you reminisce about the old times, back to when you used to tell each other everything.

But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained in your chest, glowing and waiting patiently as an ember in the night, waiting for the wind to call her name–to set her aflame again?

You casted your eyes aside and turned your head away so you could wipe the tear that fell, before you met her eyes again. You said with a small smile, apologetic.

“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

Alexia regarded you for another moment, eyes tracing some invisible path along your face, long enough that you considered she’d ask you more about why you cried just then. Instead, she said with a half-smile, teasing, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?”

Your shoulders eased down a bit.

“Still a smart-mouth, I see. Indeed, what else is new?”

At your response, the both of you chuckled but the pressing silence returned.

“How long has it been since we’ve played together?”

Alexia whispered with a wistful tone, brows knitting together at her question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her arms behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt to reveal the tattoo under her arm.

You turned your gaze away, to the unlit window of your apartment.

“Too long.”

“Two years too long.” Alexia corrected you and then she shook her head, “I know you already explained it but I still don’t understand why you went to the States out of all places. Out of all your options, you had to choose the furthest one.”

You shrugged, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs.

“You knew I’ve always wanted to see what the league is like there.”

“Right,” Alexia drawled in a tone that told you she was, in fact, aware that she didn’t know–that what you said was a load of bullshit. “So, what’s the verdict?”

‘It wasn’t like home.’

“I can hear your judgment all over your tone.” You replied drily then added, “It was great, thank you very much.”

Alexia laughed and strands of her hair fell to her face which she brushed back with a finger before she sank further into her seat.

“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. Surely, you must have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’

Still you answered her in your mind, ‘I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.’

“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”

‘I went away because of you.’

“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.

Alexia laughed along. “Just tell me anything then.”

‘Distance didn’t work. You still have my heart.’

You hummed, thinking of a story, easing back in your seat finally and then you began.

“Well…”

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n:#the poll winner is what im currently working on rn #still far from having a solid outline but just figured id give you guys something to hold on to for the time being #also this scene may be subject to minor/major changes in the final copy ✌️#let me know what you guys think <3

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orphicrose · 3 months

Text

The co-host (Alastor x Femreader) III < >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

☙I’m very thankful for everyone who has left nice comments on the other parts so thank you<3

I’ve started a taglist so do let me know if anyone is interested

@cannibalcoyote

—————————————𖤐

The king of wraith was up y/n’s ass with the lack of souls coming in this month. Usually they were at least in the thousands. But they had dropped to hundreds. She was the only one who could claim them, so it was difficult for one person to visit all those people in one day. It was exhausting.

On top of that, a new evil was lurking around every corner. Watching her at every moment and kept her on her toes. Now she had gone face to face with this thing, she was almost certain he was more powerful than her. But how. She had the gift from Satan. Who was more powerful than him? A lot, actually. But none of them as remotely accessible. Lucifer? No way. Lilith? No one knew where she was. Perhaps he made a deal with one of the sins? It was a mystery. But all she knew is she had a reason to be scared.

“I don’t know Zestial, I really don’t. He was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. His body grew, like, bigger. And he seemed like a deer?” Y/n questioned herself, trying to recall everything she had seen that night.

“A wendigo?” He asked, trying to see her image.

“Yes! Yes a wendigo.”

Zestial had grown worried when she didn’t show up, and decided it would be best if he visited her the following day. Her home was the definition of humble and cozy. A simple house outside the city. Where the streets didn’t bother her sleep and she could feel a sense of security.

“Do you have any reason to believe he may come after you again?” He questioned

“Well, he didn’t chase me. Though It was dark, there’s the chance he couldn’t see me and decided against it”

”Please, keep safe tonight dear friend. And do contact me in the morning.”

Few more words were said before his departure. And with that, she was alone again. In a more safe destination but, nonetheless, alone. How was a being as gifted as her feeling fear, was it because she didn't really like it coming down to a fight? Did she truly value her life? Who knew. The only thing she could do was focus on her work, and distract herself. Overthinking was not a good game plan. Her bricked fireplace was letting off embers into her living room, her walls portrayed images of their shadows dancing along to the flames of the small fire. Warm feet resting on a velvet ottoman as she gracefully flicked through this weeks paperwork. The numbers really have dropped, what was she going to tell the boss? He wasn't exactly the forgiving type. The amber light gave her face a beautiful glow as her eyes showed the focus she had been needing for weeks.

Three distinct knocks erupted her from her mind. Each equal lengths of time apart from one another. Maybe it was the wind, or her imagination. Afterall, she had been through a lot of stress recently. Eyes flickered down the hall to where the front door sat, her chair angled perfectly so she could see it. Though, there were no windows to warn her what was on the other side. There it was again, the exact three knocks. It can't be mistaken for anything other than a living being anymore. Her feet landed in her slippers, warmed by the fire, and her hands brought up in front of her ready for anything. The door got closer and closer, her fear tying a knot in her stomach. Suck it up y/n, she thought, Satan wouldn't let anything happen to you.

Without letting her logic control her anymore, the door swung open. "Hel-", he began before she swiftly shut the door again. It was him, has at her house, at her front door, while she's in her pajamas. What a way to go. Again, she opened the door "-lo" he continued as if nothing happened. "Did your mother not teach you how to properly welcome a guest?" he fended offense, before setting his microphone in front of his feet and leaning on it. Teeth bearing a blood thirsty grin, similar to their first encounter, but definitely not holding as much of a desire for murder in his eyes.

"She taught me not to talk to strangers", she in fact did not do this, but she did teach her how to make origami swans!

"Oh, but she must have! Such a smart woman your mother was!" He treaded lightly, or so he thought to himself. He was certain that the both of you were thinking the same thing, but that was not the case.

"And what is it that makes you think you know my mother?" Her tone more brave this time. Was this some manipulation tactic to gain her trust? What exactly was he playing at. He seemed like the type to play with his prey, but not in this way.

"Because i did know her, dear. Have you not caught on yet?" That look in her eyes was too painfully familiar to not have been her. It was her, but it didn't seem like she knew that yet. He was becoming frustrated, maybe he should have shown her he wasn't a threat. Not to her anyway. Or maybe he could have showed up in a more public space, in the light of day. "No, you haven't caught on yet." A sadder tone flashed through him, without his smile failing to give him away.

"I don't appreciate you taunting me before you attempt to hurt me." Y/n bit back, trying to shut the door again. Something stopping the door from closing. She looked down to find his cane wedged between, forcing an opening for him to peek his head through.

"You don't seem to understand. I've already had my meal today y/n, I'm just here to have a civilized conversation with you" His use of her name struck even more fear into her

"And... how do i know you wont turn on me"

"Maybe because we both know you're more powerful than you think. Or maybe because i know your full name, miss y/n m/n l/n"

She was more than a little creeped out at his point. There wasn't a single memory of her doing it, but at some point she must have invited him inside. Because he was sitting in the lounge chair opposite her now, appreciating the fire as if he wasn't some crazed serial killer. She didn't dare look away, mapping every little change in his expression. What was she even doing. He tried to make her his dinner about 24 hours ago. And now he's sitting in the place where she eats hers. Something in her just told her that this was where she was supposed to be in this moment. Whether fate was setting her up for her inevitable second death, or something bigger.

"You have a very cozy home, y/n" His voice became softer, never lacking in the static undertone he carried with him.

"That's Miss L/n to you" Not a second was hesitated before she bit back.

"Of course, miss L/n" Alastor hummed, initiating a brief silence they used to be accustomed to. "I am going to assume you don't remember me" Sarcasm complimented his voice nicely.

"Remember you? From yesterday when you attempted to send me to my second fate? Uhm, yes." Eyes still locked onto his face.

"And i am deeply sorry for that... misunderstanding" He replied, receiving a scoff from Y/N. "But i was talking about years prior to yesterday"

She didn't respond with words, just a confused look in his direction. "years?". She truly didn't understand what he was getting at. If he wanted to kill her, she didn't doubt it would have happened by now. So what else could he possibly want. By this point, he knew she wasn't just messing with him. Something was truly wrong. It was wrong enough that she was down here in the first place, but to own a business dedicated to retrieving souls and being an overlord? Not his Y/n, never. He was looking for purpose, and he found it.

"I see. Well..." his crimson eyes displaced signs of genuine disappointment. "I see you need time to recover from our little encounter yesterday. But you will be seeing me again" and with that, his body faded into the shadows of the carpet. Similar to how he appeared the first time they met. There she was, left with more questions than one person needed. She definitely wasn't sleeping tonight.

#hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust

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whoistartaglia · 1 year

Text

“are you single?”

cyno x gn!reader

you tilt your head at the question. are you single?

“i don’t know,” you decide.

“you don’t know?” the guy asks.

you give a sidelong glance to the man on your left. cyno stands a little bit aways, leaning against the bar with your group of friends. they’re talking about something, and those his eyes don’t stray, you know all he’s listening to is you.

“well, i’m not sure,” you say, letting a hint of flirtatiousness creep into your voice. you give this man, this stranger at the bar, an arch smile. “why are you asking?”

“i was watching you from across the man,” he confesses. “can i buy you a drink?”

“i don’t think the guy i came with here would like that very much.”

it’s then that you feel a hand on your waist, a chest behind your back. you turn around and look up at a displeased cyno. whether he’s annoyed at you, at the random stranger in front of you, you don’t know. maybe both.

“they’re right. i don’t.” his voice is needles and thorns. the man opens his mouth to respond, but cyno cuts him off with a sharp, “leave us.”

the looks down at you, and you shrug. “sorry.”

he leaves, muttering obscenities under his breath. cyno watches him until he’s out the door, and then turns his piercing stare on you. it softens a fraction.

“what are you doing?”

“what am i doing?” you ask, swiveling in your chair to face him. he leans back and crosses his arms. “what are you doing?”

“well, i was having a lovely conversation before you interrupted it.”

“i did not,” you defend yourself. “in fact, i was having a lovely conversation as well.”

“oh, i’m sure,” cyno drawls. he sighs and covers his face with a hand. “we really need to stop doing this.”

“doing what?”

he removes the hand to look at you. “you know what.”

“no,” you shake your head. “i don’t.” you look over at your friends engrossed in their own conversations, at the bartender wiping the counter, the bard strumming softly in the corner. no one is paying attention to you and cyno. it’s just you and him right now. you continue in a softer voice, “i don’t know why we keeping running in circles, you after me until it’s me after you.”

“it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“but it is,” you respond. “you only looked at me tonight when that guy started showing interest.” you clasp your hands together, and fidget with your rings and bracelets while you wait for cyno’s response.

“that’s the one i gave you.”

you look up. “what?”

cyno takes you hand, and turns it over. the bracelet he got you on your most recent birthday catches in the firelight.

“oh, yes,” you say. “it’s the nicest piece of jewelry i own.”

cyno stares at it, twists it over as he thinks.

“if someone asked you who got it for, what would you say?”

“i don’t know.” you repeat the words that started this chain of events, now in a whispered hush than a coy tone. “i’m not sure.” you let dangerous words fall from your tongue. “what do you want me to say?”

a pause, a pause, a pause. the entire tavern is filled with laughter and chitchat, neither one louder than the silence betwen you and cyno.

“i’d prefer boyfriend,” he says at last.

“well. so you would i,” you admit. “but i can’t call you that unless you start acting like to actually want to be my boyfriend, and stop just telling me.”

you look down at your wrist, at cyno’s hand on it, so close yet so far, anything but his sharp stare. you can picture him walking away, going back to your friends, or even out the door and away from this tavern and town forever. the desert is large, and if cyno wanted to leave, he had only a few steps to take.

“okay.” you look up. a second later, stronger, “okay.” he draws up your other hand and sandwiches both of them between his own. “every day, i’ll show you.”

you nod faintly, praying to whatever archon will listen that he promise hold true. you think the conversation is over then. cyno’s friends wait for him, the bard is asleep, the fireplace is embers, and soon you will be rushed out for the night. but cyno turns and gestures to the bartender instead. two drinks, he orders.

one for him. one for you.

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sashaisready · 14 days

Text

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 5 - I feel numb

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bucky is a dick in this one. Angst! Jealousy! Idiots who don't communicate!! But I’m loving Steve...He’s moving in a different direction than planned but I’m enjoying it.

Surprise chapter drop! This came outta nowhere lol. Thanks again for all your reblogs and comments, I truly can’t emphasise enough how much they mean to me.

You had whiplash after the kiss with Bucky in the office. It all happened so fast, so fast you didn’t even really think about it. Not that you needed to, your body thought and spoke for you. Every feeling you had for him was poured into that kiss. Every stolen glance, every secret second of pining. Kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if you were meant to be doing this. A tiny part of you had almost hoped that if you ever did manage to kiss him, that it would be bad…or worse - uneventful. Then maybe the mediocrity would snap you out of your infatuation and allow you to move forward, finally stop you crushing on a man who you knew would be no good for you.

Alas, no. It had only stoked the embers, the fire for him burning brighter than ever before.

That night you had driven home, Clint riding alongside you on his bike until you were safely behind the front door. That was sweet. You had insisted you were fine and apologised to him for the waste of gas, but he was nonplussed. A loyal soldier doing his duty.

You had laid awake in Granny’s old bed that night, wondering what exactly had led Bucky to make a move. Yes, there had been a bit of flirtation between you both, but you’d got the impression he was like that with women generally – especially if his interactions with Amber and co were anything to go by. You’d met many flirts in your time, and you knew better than to pin hopes and feelings on a bit of banter. Some flirts treated it like a sport, getting girls to fall for them with a few sweet words and well-timed winks just to see if they could. Others just did it to pass the time, enjoying the buzz of the exchanges but never really intending it to go further. You didn’t know which category Bucky fell into, but you were smart enough to keep your wits about you. Or at least try to...

He seemed genuinely shaken up by the incident with the customer, angry that he hadn’t been there to save the day and keep his employees out of harm’s way. Was he worried about you? Or was it a bit of a macho display to save face in front of the MC? Someone had caused trouble on his turf, after all. You didn’t know. Why had he even hired you? Did he like you, or were you just a bit of fun that he knew had an expiration date when you sold the house? Did he feel the same way you did, or just think you were a good time girl who would serve him beer and maybe let him into your pants for a few quickies after hours? You didn’t know. But a glimmer of optimism was blooming.

And just how far would the kiss have gone if Sam hadn’t interrupted? You definitely didn’t know that. All you knew was the dizzying feeling you’d felt when he’d kissed you…and just how down bad you were.

Ugh.

To your disappointment, and possibly helping to confirm where Bucky stood, you didn’t hear from him over the next few days. Only a cursory text from Steve to confirm your next shift. You weren’t sure what you expected, but making out with your boss in the back office wasn’t a regular work activity for you – you at least thought he’d text or something. But maybe that’s where you were going wrong. Maybe that was a typical Sunday night at the bar for him.

You pulled up into the parking lot of The Snake Pit on Wednesday evening to begin your shift. As you wandered in, various members of the MC greeted you and asked about your injuries. You smiled and amiably chatted back, reassuring them all was fine. Nat gave you a wave over by the jukebox before berating Sam about his song choice. Just another regular shift. If anyone knew about your little tryst with Bucky, nobody gave anything away to suggest it.

As you got to the bar, Steve was leaning across it and meticulously inspecting a CCTV camera he must’ve unscrewed from the ceiling. You said hi to Tom who was already working, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he acknowledged you while very carefully cutting up some lemons.

“Still playing up, huh?” you asked Steve as you started putting clean glasses away.

“Yep,” he replied without looking up. “I thought the connection was loose, but I can’t see any problems with it – so I think it’s something with the individual cameras”.

A couple of the cameras had been on the blink for a week or so, leaving surveillance blindspots in the bar. Bucky was very blasé about it all, but Steve was clearly nervous.

“Want me to call the repair guy?” you asked as you worked around him.

Steve grimaced. “Not yet…I’m just gonna have a play around and see if I can figure it out”.

You poured him a beer as he pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and began opening up the camera’s case.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as you placed the glass in front of him. He hadn’t looked up at you the whole time you’d been there. It would’ve bothered you when you first started here, but you knew now that was just how he was.

“How’s the arm?” he asked suddenly, his eyes still locked on the task in front of him.

“All good, thanks. Bandage was off the next day”.

“Good. And the head?”

“Also good. Just had a bit of a fetching goose egg on my head for a few days”.

“Eh, a look you pulled off, I’m sure”.

You smiled. Steve may have been a man of few words, but he did listen. He did care.

“And don’t worry about that guy. He wouldn’t dream of coming back here. Trust me”.

“Thanks, Steve”.

“Mmm. Y‘welcome” he muttered.

He went quiet again, and you knew that meant the conversation was finished for now so you continued working.

You were just re-stocking the bottle fridges when you realised you hadn’t seen Bucky around yet. You did a quick scan of the room when the front door suddenly flew open.

You couldn’t help the wave of nausea that rushed through as you watched Bucky sweep into the bar, Amber glued to his side as she giggled hysterically at whatever he’d just said. He’d never been that funny, you thought.

Some of the MC members called out to him and he hollered back. Amber was clinging to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He dashed by the bar and his eyes caught yours as he walked. He seemed to give you a double take as he stopped.

“You’re working tonight?” he asked, pointing at you accusingly. “I thought you were in tomorrow”.

“Well, hello to you too,” you mumbled back, a little grouchier than planned. But you couldn’t deny that you were expecting a warmer reception.

“I scheduled her,” Steve replied gruffly. “You know those guys from the manufacturing plant are in here Wednesday nights after their shift. We need all hands on deck”.

As if on cue, Tom stumbled behind you and nearly dropped the liquor bottles he was holding.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“Buuuucky,” wailed Amber as she tugged on his kutte. “C’moooon…”

Bucky huffed. “Alright…”

He looked at you for a split second, but then they moved over to the other side of the bar. You finally exhaled. You felt stupid. What did you expect? He was going to sweep you up and continue kissing you in front of everyone? You hadn’t even heard from him. God, you thought you’d grown out of this type of thing. Your embarrassment curdled into anger.

As you seethed silently, Steve spoke up again. Well, it was more like a growl than anything as you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I said,” and his blue eyes flickered to finally look at you, “Don’t believe everything you see”.

You frowned. “Cryptic…”

“You heard me”.

You watched as he turned and pointedly looked over at Bucky and Amber. Bucky was chatting away to Nat as Amber held onto his metal arm with a vice grip, holding court with the other girls. She was showing Bucky off like a prize.

You felt your face flush. Did…he know? Did Bucky tell him about what happened between the two of you? And what was he inferring about Bucky and Amber?

You went to question him further, but he slipped off the bar stool without another word, zipping off across the room to reattach the CCTV camera.

The shift was a particularly painful one. You had to stand and watch as Amber was all over Bucky like a bad rash. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating her attention – moving through the group drinking, chatting, but equally he wasn’t shaking her off, either. He seemed perfectly happy to have an Amber-shaped appendage, occasionally giving her breadcrumbs in the form of a smile or a wink which she happily devoured. He hadn’t acknowledged you since his admission of surprise that you were here.

Ugh.

Fortunately for you, Steve’s prediction about the plant guys keeping things busy was entirely correct. You and Tom would have bursts of activity as the group all seemed to go in for another round at once, then moments of quiet as they guzzled their drinks back at the tables. You were grateful for the distraction.

The hours clicked by towards the end of the night, and you were tired. Tired of being on your feet all evening. Tired of picking up the slack for Tom. Tired of keeping up with the plant guys who seemed to have bottomless pits inside them that no amount of beer could fill. Tired of how embarrassed you felt by Bucky’s rejection. Tired, tired. Your tank was empty.

The bar had emptied out with only a few stragglers left alongside the MC, so you started cleaning up and closing. You were just stacking some dirty glasses when the high-pitched giggle cut through the air.

You and Tom both turned to see Amber sitting rather unashamedly in Bucky’s lap, giggling as she ran her finger across his chin. He looked back at her with amusement, grinning like a fool.

You squeezed the glass you were holding so tightly that it was a miracle it didn’t break. All the feelings you’d been suppressing suddenly bubbled up, your stomach a nauseating soup of fatigue and hurt. And some rage thrown in for good measure.

“Oh man, she’s so hot…” Tom practically drooled.

That didn’t help.

“I’m just gonna change the Bud barrel,” you muttered in reply, your voice monotonous.

You slipped out through the door behind the bar and quickly rushed down the stairs to the quiet basement where the barrels and stock were kept. Grateful for the privacy, you threw your hands flat against the concrete wall and bent your head towards the floor, exhaling. It took you a moment, but you managed to compose yourself. God, you were stupid.

You unhooked the old barrel and got to work replacing it with the new one, relieved to be doing something with your hands. You berated yourself for getting to this point. A brief make-out session with your boss was hardly a binding contract. It didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Bucky probably got up to more mayhem before 10am most weekdays with his little harem of women. You were just another skirt to him. Jesus. How silly you’d been. You realised maybe you’d let yourself to be caught up in this crush to distract yourself from your Granny and the house. And it was a welcome distraction. But here you were, hiding in the basement at your job and feeling like a high schooler whose crush had invited someone else to prom.

Enough.

You inhaled and finished the task, standing back up and wiping your hands on your jeans.

You straightened up your back and shook your limbs out as you climbed back up the stairs. Time to do what you did best. After all, the only way is through.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

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ackermanbloodline · 7 months

Text

The Breaking Point (Part III) - Levi Ackerman x Female Reader

Read Part I Read Part II

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Sexual content (18+/MDNI). Angst. Season four spoilers.

Author's Note: I decided to combine this final part of The Breaking Point with an anonymous request I received since this was my plan anyway. Thank you, Anon, for sending it in.

* * *

“Levi?”

He runs a hand through his slicked-back hair, drips of rain dropping from the ends of it. He’s shivering. His eyes are so bloodshot it looks like he needs medical attention.

“I d-didn’t know where else to g-go… c-can I come in?”

You grab his arm and pull him inside rather than say anything. You close the door again and turn around to face him.

“Listen, I’m s-sorry for coming in here a-and dripping all–all over your floor, but I-I-I wanted to talk–”

“I hate to interrupt, but before you go any further, you need to take a shower and get these wet clothes off. Like now.”

He doesn’t fight you. He looks at the floor and gives you a small nod. You lead him to the bathroom and turn on the shower to the warmest setting, your remembrance that he likes scalding hot showers coming in handy now. You also leave a towel for him on the sink, as well as the candle so he’s able to see.

He walks into the bathroom, stands by the shower, and looks at you.

“Give me your clothes,” you say. “I’ll wring them out and hang them up to dry.”

His eyes widen a little. He takes off his jacket and hands it to you. The thing is so heavy with water and dripping all over the place. You drape it over your forearm but away from your body so it doesn’t drip onto you or your robe. His muscles glisten in the light of the flame as he works to take his shirt off. You see a few new scars on his lower torso.

One by one, until it comes down to him taking off his pants. He looks at you. You don’t catch on immediately but you quickly turn on your heel, away from him, to give him privacy.

“Right. Sorry.”

Once he takes everything else off and hands it to you, you exit the bathroom and call out to him.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

You close the door. You are suddenly grateful for his habit of long showering times. It’ll give you time to think. You sigh deeply and throw your head back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, and curse the universe at this cruel trick it’s playing on you. It was worse enough breaking Levi’s heart, now he’s showing up unannounced at your door in the middle of the night? God.

You pad to the kitchen and place the clothes in the sink. One by one, you wring them all out the best you can. But no matter how much you work to do so, water keeps coming out. By the time you’re done, your hands are sore and red. You look over to the fireplace to find just dull embers glowing. Shouldn’t be too difficult to start a fire again.

Once you get that done, you take the clothes and place them near the fire. After that, it’s mopping the floors of the rain Levi trekked in. Then, it’s making some tea. You know he’s going to want it. But you decide to not give him his favorite black tea. But rather opting for peppermint tea as it doesn’t have any caffeine. And it looks like he’s been awake for a week straight.

You sit patiently on the couch waiting for Levi to emerge from his shower. And after about 45 minutes, you hear the water shut off. Anxiety brews in your chest uneasily, though you can’t quite figure out why. He’s the one who barged in here.

Eventually, you hear footsteps approach you. You look at him, only clad in a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. You look away quickly.

“Apologies for the indecency,” he murmurs.

“All good, your clothes aren’t dry yet.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch from you. The silence is so awkward that you just want to run away and hide. You take a few breaths before you speak, desperately trying to get the small talk out of the way to make room for the big talk.

“Are you warmed up now?”

“Yes, much better now.”

“Good.”

“This is a nice place,” he looks around slowly. “You did well.”

“Thank you. It’s cozy. I like it here.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

A silence fills the air for a few moments. You nervously twiddle your thumbs.

“So… you’re probably wondering why I came here.”

You nod your head, staring ahead at the flames, “Yeah.”

“I… came here to ask if… if there’s any chance of us getting back together,” he says your name cautiously.

The ball of anxiety that’s been growing for the past hour in your chest pops.

“I know I’m not good at this sort of thing. But the last few weeks have been hell, and that’s putting it lightly. I should’ve treated you better, listened to you when you voiced concerns about our relationship instead of shutting down. I know that now. And I’m willing to do better, to be better. I have not been able to sleep more than an hour per night because all I see when I close my eyes is you. I still love you and I need you.”

Your breathing has become erratic but you force it to be quiet and not noticeable so Levi doesn’t see. You close your eyes and lean back on the sofa, not knowing what to say for a moment.

He whispers, “Please say something.”

“Did you even hear yourself just now?”

The question comes out more bitter than you would like. Levi stays silent, waiting for you to continue. You glare at him.

“You still don’t get it, even after all this time. All the discussions we had. Pretty much all of what you said only concerned you and your well-being. What about me?”

He nods.

“Levi, being with you was so fucking hard. Even on days when we had even a few hours to spend together uninterrupted, I was only thinking about the next time you were going to leave. You were gone more than you were with me. That takes a toll on anybody. Imagine if the situation was reversed. How long could you take that before you decided that enough is enough?”

“I understand your perspective. I thought that when we got together, you knew about all this. I told you that being with me wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I thought I could handle it,” you shrug. “But turns out, being with you was harder than I could’ve ever expected. Especially on days when I needed you and you weren’t here.”

“The government is falling. The Jaegerists are taking over everything. I don’t know if you realize this, but everything I do is to protect humanity, which includes you. And I made a promise to Commander Erwin.”

“Of course. And who am I to get in the way of that?”

“The only person who can.”

You look toward him and his gaze is fixed on the fire, the orange and yellow flames lighting his cold blue irises up in the most unusual way. After a second, they revert to yours.

“Answer me just one thing: was being with me really that terrible?”

“Of course not,” you answer without any hesitation. “There were many moments in our relationship I loved and still love. I was just thinking about this earlier, but how you used to come home with those beautiful blue flowers or the bread for dinner. Those small gestures are what they are, small, but they meant a lot to me.”

“Yeah.”

“Waking up next to you was one of the biggest reliefs, too. Knowing you were there to keep me safe. And when we made love.”

“I like those memories, too. But I knew there was something wrong when you couldn’t get pregnant, no matter how far we went.”

You recall the doctor’s visit with Levi. That fateful day they told him that due to his low sperm count, he was infertile. Which, you didn’t quite know how that was possible due to the… size of his loads. But the doctor said that, in rare cases, being severely depressed or stressed can cause infertility in men. And that wasn’t too far off the mark.

You look to the ground and recall how distant he was after that for a few days. Neither of you was too fond of the idea of having kids, but knowing that the option wasn't even there dealt a blow to the both of you. There were times when you daydreamed about what it would be like to have a little Levi running through the house. The biggest obstacle that you faced about the idea is the state of the world. If you had a choice, you would’ve chosen to not be born. The constant fear of living under the tyranny of the titans was a miserable existence.

Thankfully though in the past few years, with the Scout Regiment exploring beyond the walls and reaching the sea, humanity was finally free from that tyranny.

Levi calls your name. You look at him, snapping out of your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I go back to my original question: is there any chance of us getting back together?”

You take a deep breath. You have known your answer from the start.

“No, there isn’t.”

You almost hear Levi lose his breath. He sits up on the sofa and leans over, putting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head towards the floor.

“I’m sorry Levi, but… I’m happier now.”

“Is there somebody else?”

“What? No.”

He’s quiet for a moment. The silence is almost unbearable. It’s so tense you could cut it with a knife.

“If that’s truly how you feel… can I ask one more thing of you before I leave your life for good?”

“What?”

“Make love to me one last time.”

You’re taken aback by his answer. You thought maybe he was asking you to be safe in your day-to-day life, but this was entirely unexpected. He lifts his head up and looks in your direction through the dark tendrils of his hair.

“Levi, I–”

“I know. I would just like for us to enjoy one another one last time. But only if you want to, too.”

You sigh. You definitely don’t feel pressured by his words but just conflicted. He was always intensely respectful when it came to sex with you. Always asking if it was okay, even years into the relationship. It was never pressured from you. In fact, if anything, it was the other way around. Always wanting him. You could never quite get enough.

You remembered the last time you two fucked. Months ago. Never in a million years would you have thought that it was going to be the last. Perhaps this is a good way to get closure for the both of you; to finally sever the tie.

He looks at you in a pleading way.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans back on the sofa and opens his arms, “Then come here.”

His hand reaches for yours and you look at it for a moment. You’re not sure if this is the greatest idea, but Levi was always a man of his word. Once this is done, he’s leaving your life. For good. After breaking his heart, you could give him this one last thing for him to close this chapter in his life and move on.

Your hand reaches for his and his fingers close around yours and tugs you in gently. The space between you two on the couch closes and he brings his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. You do the same as he places a hand on the side of your face. His thumb slowly strokes the flesh of your cheek. You can feel his heartbeat raging in his chest against yours.

After three breaths, Levi pulls away and plants his lips softly on your hairline and lingers for a moment. You feel a stinging in your eyes intensify as he does this. You would most definitely miss this soft side of him, this vulnerable side of him. But you can’t afford to think about it now. This is your decision and your decision alone.

Levi pulls his mouth away from your forehead and looks at you again, drinking the sight of you in the glow of the fireplace.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Before you have the chance to even respond, his lips land on yours in a desperate but delicate way. You lean into the kiss and push back into him. And reality hits: you remember that this is going to be the very last time you two do this together. You savor every moment. You give your all in each and every kiss, every touch. And he seemingly does the same.

You retreat from his face and get up from the couch.

“Come on.”

When you two are in your room, his touch almost instantly becomes needier. He pants in between open-mouthed kisses where his tongue is desperate to feel yours. Low groans rip from his throat with almost every exhale. His length, concealed behind the white towel that still hangs from his hips, strains against your leg to be freed. His fingers slither across your waist and his arm gently wraps around your back to lower you onto the bed comforter.

He lays in between your legs and everything slows down again. His kisses are so tender and loving. He deviates and goes to your cheeks, your jawline, your neck, your hairline. You know in his mind that he’s savoring every last kiss. It’s almost as if he’s treating you like a fragile item that’s going to break with the slightest touch.

Your fingertips gently trace along the strong muscles of his back when his tongue makes a long stripe along your collarbone. Your back arches up toward him and you run a hand through his hair. His palm reaches up and kneads your right breast methodically, taking your hard nipple in between his fingers through your robe. Your eyes close.

“Levi…”

“May I take it off?”

“Yes.”

He sits up and takes the belt of your robe in his hands and gently pulls it toward him. The bust immediately falls open. His veiny hands run up your body from your hips and to your shoulders, diving into the fabric to push it all the way off of your torso. He tosses it to the floor. He stares at you from above and drinks your entire body in. His tongue runs over his lips.

“What a sight…” he murmurs, whisping his fingertips over your naked belly and sternum methodically. “I’ve never seen anyone, or anything, quite as breathtaking as you.”

Your cheeks heat up as you give him a small smile. He chuckles weakly and shakes his head.

“I know I never will.”

You fight the feeling of your eyes stinging behind your lids as he lowers his lips to yours and works to remove his towel. Levi has always been a man of few words. But he’s never told you these things before. Why now? Why at a time like this?

The both of you are now completely naked against one another. The feeling of his warm chest on yours is something you’ve missed. In the moment, it feels like you two are one. The world has stopped. You place your hands on the side of his face and he grabs your wrist and holds onto it. His tongue delicately explores your mouth again, slipping against yours with ease and softness.

His mouth makes its way south to the corner of your lips, your chin, your jaw, your neck. His tongue runs over one of your perked nipples with an elongated lick. He grabs your breast and begins to suck, taking his time to carefully wrap his lips around it. As the sound of his licking echoes in your ears, your arm wraps around his head and pushes him into your chest further. His other hand massages your other breast and he switches between the two. He does this for a few minutes. At one point, he licks one just once and then goes to the other.

By the time he goes further down your body, your nipples are reddened and slightly swollen from his assault. He pecks, licks, and kisses your ribs, making you squirm underneath his touch with such need that you haven’t felt in months. On his way further down, his tongue circles your belly button. He tenderly places both of your legs up on the rounds of his shoulders and settles in between your legs.

He presses a kiss on the lips of your pussy. In his mind, this is the wettest you’ve ever been for him. In your mind, you think the same. Your fingertips find his hair and gently stroke through it. He bobs his head slowly up and down as his tongue slides up and down your cunt and produces waves of pleasure that radiate through your pelvis. You throw your head back and close your eyes, relishing the feeling of him in between your thighs.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he praises with a muffled voice and intertwines a set of your fingers in his. “Enjoy yourself.”

Your hips rut up against his lips. You simply cannot help it. And Levi doesn’t stop you, either. In fact, he likes it. Low groans emit from his mouth and vibrate into your sex. It feels so good. He always loves pleasing you and making you feel good. So much so that a lot of the time, he was perfectly content not getting himself off. Getting you off was getting him off. And you adored him for that.

Just when there’s enough of his spit and your arousal to drip down into the comforter, he takes one of his fingers in his mouth, circles it against your entrance, and slowly pushes it in. The feeling makes you whine loudly. Your pussy clamps down on his digit and Levi swears in his mind that you’ve somehow gotten tighter. He can’t wait to slide his cock into it again and feel just how good you are.

He hooks his finger up into your G-spot.

“Shit, Levi, fuck, yes.”

“Feeling good?” his breath fans on your cunt but his finger continues.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says as he shoves another finger in. “I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head as you gasp out, unable to form a proper verbal response to his plea.

“You always make me so proud, you know,” he says in between kissing, sucking, and licking. “So smart. So passionate. So obedient. So goddamn gorgeous...”

The combination of the praising, his mouth, and his fingers is enough to get you to the edge very quickly. When his tongue slides up and down and back and forth across your clit again, you stop moaning and even stop breathing. It feels too good. Your legs stiffen on Levi’s shoulders. You begin to shake.

“Levi, I’m… I’m close.”

“That’s it, thaaat’s it…” he coaxes as your clit is sucked. “Give it to me. I want it. I want every drop of my pretty girl’s cum down my throat. Please, baby.”

His pleading is so desperate and needy. It pushes you over.

“I’m cumming, Levi, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming…”

Your hips rock up against his mouth again and you grip Levi’s hand in yours so harshly that your knuckles turn white. He continues to moan against your pussy. Initially, you don’t make a sound. Your orgasm just absolutely rips through you so hard that you can’t even make a sound. Once you can actually inhale, you scream out Levi’s name over and over again. It’s all you can register. He continues his actions as you go through the motions of your orgasm. You squirm and have to physically push his head away to get him to stop as your clit becomes too sensitive to touch.

You pant heavily. Your eyes remain closed. Mouth agape. He comes up to your mouth and kisses you. When his tongue plays with yours again, you taste yourself on him. You moan out quietly in response. You two stay like that for a few minutes as you get a bearing on your surroundings again. Your palm plants itself against Levi’s chest and pushes him down onto the bed. He complies.

You turn around to grab a hair tie from the drawer of your nightstand. You push it down your wrist and climb over Levi’s waist so you straddle him from above. He looks up at you as you tie up your hair. He reaches up and grabs your breasts, kneading them in his hands just like before. Your hips grind back and forth so your pussy lazily slides up and down on his cock. Your cum covers his length. He reaches down and uses his thumb to stroke your wetness up to the underside of his swollen head.

When your hair is up, you lean over and kiss him. His hands immediately land on your waist. They run up and down the length of your body. You feel him tilt his hips up into yours with want. You work your way down his body, just like he did. When you reach his nipples and take them in your mouth, he groans loudly. You know that’s one of his more sensitive spots.

“Shit, that feels good.”

Your mouth works one nipple, your thumb works the other. He’s panting so loud and fast that it sounds like he’s just run a marathon. He’s squirming and jerking slightly. He buries a hand in the lower half of your tied-up hair and tightens his grip on it. You love how easily it was to break down Humanity’s Strongest with just a flick or two of your tongue.

When you decide that he’s had enough, you move down to his strong stomach, kissing every muscle and scar there. He watches you like a hawk and presses his length up against your body to get some relief, as well as to encourage you to move faster. Instead, you latch your mouth to his skin to make dark hickies all over his lower torso. This is something you’ve never done to him before. He moans quietly as you do so. The mix of dull pain and intense pleasure is something that he could definitely tolerate.

Over the course of a few minutes, you successfully manage to leave three dark purple marks with speckles of red along the skin of his hips. You press your lips to each one and Levi’s dick twitches against your collarbone. He looks down at the marks you’ve made and a smirk spreads across his features. You know he likes it.

You shift downward so his length is right in front of your face. You wrap a hand around his dick, around its base, and a strained hiss leaves his lips. He shifts his hips up into your grip. The head is just absolutely glistening with precum and even a couple of translucent drips have traveled down to his balls.

Eagerly, you make one giant stripe with the flat of your tongue up the underside of his entire cock. The groan he lets out sounds like one of relief. Still, his intense gaze on you doesn’t waiver. His taste dances across your mouth. You lick your lips. Always tastes so good.

“Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, princess. Let’s see that tongue.”

You follow his orders and he grabs at the base of his length to slap the head of himself against your tongue over and over again, producing a wet, muted slapping sound. When he can’t take it anymore, he gently pushes his cock into your mouth. He plants a soft grip on your scalp and uses it to guide your entire head up and down on him. He’s so gentle with it. He throws his head back and his entire body twitches with pleasure. His muscles move and contract deliciously in the light.

It is moments like these where you relish Levi’s vulnerability. How he felt comfortable enough with you to let go. To let down his guard and focus on something other than his title and trauma. In your mind, you’ve always been thankful that’s something you can give to him.

“Fuck, baby, fuck … I love fucking your mouth like this, could do it for hours … Only you can make this dick cum so hard and fast … You’re such a good girl, my good girl … Yes, yes, yes.”

Each praise, each word that leaves his mouth leaves your pussy dripping with lust. He sounds so unhinged and needy that it’s actually making your cunt ache. All you can focus on is how sexy he looks as he continues to fuck your mouth to his heart’s desire. When you hear his moans get higher in pitch and his grip get slightly tighter in your hair, you know he’s close. He looks down at you every now and again, needing to see your eyes as you take him as well as you do. Your lashes batting at him is enough to drive him insane.

Soon enough, he slows his rhythm in your mouth and pulls you off. His cock leaves your mouth a pop sound. He cups your face and pulls you up to him, then leans you both over so he’s hovering over top of you again. His lips are slow and passionate on yours and wrap around your tongue to suck on it. You both moan.

“I’m going to slide it in now, baby.”

“Please do.”

“Please?” he raises an eyebrow and his tone evolves into one of teasing. “Are you begging?”

“Maybe…”

“I like it.”

“Well in that case… please fuck me, Levi. Please fuck this pussy. Your pussy.”

His eyes slightly widen but he’s quick to react. His hand guides his rock-hard length against your soaking slit in an up-and-down motion. The head rubs up against your swollen clit again and again. You bite your lip and shift your pussy back against him. He hums in satisfaction when he looks down and sees himself coated in you.

He taps the head against your clit twice and pushes himself in. Both of you gasp. You instinctively cling onto his body, nails digging into his back, and he buries his face in your neck. He goes slow. Not slow to the point where it’s unbearable, but slow enough. You know he’s savoring you. It feels as though every inch of him is exploring every inch of you in a relaxed way. It feels nice. Unexpectedly nice.

“I know I’ve said this a million times before,” he begins, slightly straining as he continues to roll his hips into yours. “But you feel so fucking good, baby. That pussy feels so good. So tight.”

You moan and respond by kissing his neck. His cock continues to slide in and out of you at a slower pace. It feels like this is the deepest he’s ever been. He slides all the way in, balls deep, then all the way out, to his tip. As he does this, your G-spot is hit. You fidget against his body, wanting a better angle.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks, stopping and looking at you. “Here, let’s put a pillow underneath you.”

He folds a nearby pillow in half and uses his arm to lift your lower back up off the mattress. Swiftly, he puts the pillow beneath it. There’s a tension relieved from your upper back. He lowers you back down. All of this while he’s still inside.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

He resumes thrusting and this time, he places a hand on your lower stomach and softly pushes down. This, in combination with the pillow, is a much better angle and feeling than before, even with how slow he’s going. It’s almost as if he read your mind. Maybe he just knows you that well.

“Oh,” you moan. “This feels… nice.”

“Good. Always want to make you feel good.”

You press your lips to his as he proceeds to fuck you softly and slowly. It feels so intimate. So different from the past couple of months. It doesn’t take either of you long before you’re wanting to cum. When he picks up his pace slightly, you feel more pleasure in your pelvis as that spot inside you gets hit over and over again. The familiar sound of skin-on-skin slapping fills the room. Your cunt is gripping Levi’s dick with such force that, in his mind, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last. You’re in the same boat. Levi almost gets embarrassed, but then he remembers that it’s been a while since you two made love.

“I’m almost there,” he whispers against your neck.

“Me too.”

“Cum with me, sweetheart.”

“Mhm, okay.”

“Can I… can I cum inside you?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Fuck, good.”

A few minutes later, you and Levi orgasm at the same time. Your walls flutter around his dick as you cum and he pulses inside of you, covering every last inch of your pussy with ropes of his cum. You two moan out each other’s names so loudly that you’re slightly worried that the neighbors can possibly hear. He continues to fuck you through your orgasms before slowing down and eventually coming to a complete stop.

He lays on top of you for a while. You run your hand through his hair and it nearly puts him to sleep. Both of you relish the post-coitus glow.

But then reality hits and that glow vanishes with a snap of the fingers.

* * *

Once you’re up and dressed again, you fetch Levi’s clothes as he sits on the bed in his boxer briefs. To your relief, the clothes are finally dry. Once you fold them, you pad back towards the bedroom and open the door. You walk over to Levi and place them beside him when he’s unresponsive to your presence.

“Thanks,” he mutters quietly.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you alone to get dressed.”

“Appreciate it.”

You sit on the couch and wait for him to appear. Your mind is racing with a million questions and a million thoughts. Truth be told, you’re questioning your well-thought-out decision that changed both of your lives just a few short weeks ago. Nights like these were the highlight of your relationship, no doubt. But they were far and few in between.

I cannot let one night cloud my judgment and allow it to question my decision, you think to yourself. What we did just now was for closure purposes, Levi said it himself.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear him call your name. He sits down on the couch next to you.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, eyes staring into yours.

“Good! Feeling good. How about you?”

“I’m doing well, too.”

“Good, glad to hear it.”

“I should probably head back to HQ. Sun is rising soon and you’re probably very tired.”

“I’m not too tired, actually. But are you sure you wanna head back now? It’s still pouring rain out.”

“Yes. Everyone is going to wonder where I am.”

{🎵 Backroads (Redux) - Lonely The Brave}

It’s at this moment that you realize that your decision was the right one to make.

The sucker punch you feel in your gut tells you that nothing is going to change. Not right now, anyway. There’s a part of you that will always love him, that will always be loyal to him. And who knows… maybe in the future things might be different, and you two can give things another shot. The future is unpredictable.

But, for right now… you have to let him go. Not for only your sake, but his, too.

You can’t fight the tears forming in your eyes. They cloud your vision and spill over your eyelids. He notices immediately and concern takes over his countenance. He takes your face in his hands and wipes away the tears making streaks down your cheeks.

“I never wanted to let you go, Levi,” you say in a strained voice. “I still don’t want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” he pleads. “Don’t let me go. Please. We can figure this out.”

“We can’t… we just can’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because as long as you’re Captain Levi Ackerman, this will keep happening. I deserve someone who puts me first and you deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel bad about your title. Who is okay with loneliness. I’m just… I’m not that person.”

Levi’s eyes start to water, too. And something in them lights up. Like he’s come to a realization or experienced an epiphany. His voice becomes shaky.

“You’re right. I never saw it that way before now. I’ve been so damn selfish. You deserve so much more than I’ve been giving you. So much more than I can provide.”

You can’t hold back anymore. You begin to sob and Levi quickly takes you in his arms. He holds onto you like you’re the last molecule of oxygen in a gas chamber. You do the same. He’s squeezing you so hard that it’s almost hard to breathe. You hear him softly cry into your shoulder, too.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with your name in between sharp breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you hear me?”

He doesn’t respond. He continues to cry silently.

“We’re just on different paths in life right now, a-and that’s okay,” you assure him. “I still had fun with you, and I don’t regret anything.”

“Me neither.”

You look up at the ceiling, at whatever god or higher power that may exist, and silently pray that both of you can survive this heartbreak. You pray for Levi’s healing. You pray for your healing. You pray that he remains safe on his missions. You pray that he will always return. And you pray that someday, you two have another opportunity to be together.

You have a feeling that your prayers fall on deaf ears.

You pull apart from the hug and his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks are blotchy. You reach out a hand and mirror his actions by wiping away the tears falling down his face.

“Okay,” he grabs a tissue from your coffee table and wipes his nose. “I should head out.”

“Okay.”

You walk him to the door and once he slips on his shoes and prepares himself for a walk in the rain by putting his hood up and securing his jacket, he looks at you. Tears threaten to break from your eyes once more.

“This doesn’t mean goodbye, you know,” his voice is still shaky as if he’s unsure of the words himself. “I’m still going to be around. If you ever need anything, you stop by HQ and ask for me. Or send me a letter. I promise I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

“Come here.”

You share another hug. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and neck. His wrap around your chest and under your arms. You wish, in your mind, that you could stay like this. Forever. You two stay like this for a long time. You hear him struggling to rein in his sobs. He talks again. Muffled by your clothing.

“Thank you for everything.”

He pulls away and looks at you with bloodshot eyes again. He leans over, turns the door handle, and opens the door. It’s cold, rainy, and windy. It sends goosebumps up your spine.

“See you…” he says your name before he disappears into the night.

“Goodbye.”

* * *

End

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five-rivers · 29 days

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 14

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“I do not believe you have amnesia,” said Ember. “I do not believe you have amnesia. How are you so freaking–”

Phantom beaned Ember in the face with a seat cushion. It might have been soft, but Ember didn’t exactly check to make sure that no one put gum under them after concerts.

“LESS TALKING MORE SINGING!” Technus shrieked electronically. “NANOBOT ATTACK!”

“No!” said Skulker. “Not the freaking–”

A swarm of robots descended from vents in the ceiling. Toy robots. Brightly colored, with rounded edges. They had lasers. Ones that stung.

“Ouch!” said Phantom.

“Augh!” squeaked Ember.

“Goddamn–” shouted Skulker before being borne under the colorful swarm.

“BEHOLD, MY ROBOT ARMY!”

Freaking Leeroy-Jenkins-looking–

Phantom shoved them to the sides of the room with a wave of ecto-energy.

“Hey, speaking of that, do you know Vlad?”

“Speaking of what?” demanded Ember, pulling gum out of her hair. She was going to kill him for that. “Freaking robot armies? Are you going to tell us that Plasmius has a robot army?”

“AND HE DIDN’T BUY IT FROM ME?”

“Of course he wouldn’t! Ol’ Plaz is a loser but he knows about malware.”

“No, I mean, like, I learned that move from him,” said Phantom. “And, like, it does seem like all of you guys know each other, yeah? I’m the point of contact, probably, but still–”

“Actually, no,” said Ember. “Skulker’s been working for Plasmius for ages.” Skulker had also clawed his way out of the robots and was now sneaking up on Phantom rather effectively.

Except, suddenly, it wasn’t so effective. Phantom twisted, reached back, hooked his fingers under the edge of Skulker’s helmet and heaved. Skulker’s head popped off cleanly before soaring across the auditorium.

Phantom stared after it for a moment, then shrieked, loudly. “His head! Oh, gosh, his head.”

Okay, maybe the dipstick did have amnesia.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to– His head came off. His head. Is he– He’s already dead, is he– I didn’t mean to hurt– to end–” The main part of Skulker’s armor fell over with a clatter.

“Oh my god,” said Ember, flying over to Skulker. The actual Skulker. In the pilot’s seat in the helmet. Usually she wouldn’t do this, but Phantom looked like he was about to cry. She picked him up and yanked him out of the helmet. “This is Skulker. He just likes to stomp around in a suit of armor, ‘cause he’s compensating for something.”

“Hey!” squealed Skulker.

“It’s a mecha!” chimed in Technus, proudly. “My own design!”

“That’s… actually pretty cool,” said Phantom. “But I think– I think I need to– Go home. And lie down or something. Have a, um, a good one. We’ll hang out later. Or fight. Yeah.” He hit a button on his weird necklace pocketwatch and disappeared.

“Well,” said Ember. “That was anticlimactic.”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of was.”

“Wanna keep fighting?” she asked.

“YES!”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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sscamanderr · 1 month

Text

Gods Above, Devils Below

Raphael x reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, bit of dub/con

Near-blistering air carried with it smoldering embers and the faintest hint of cherries. The House was his domain, the very pores in the rock filled with his scent, meant to overwhelm and lay claim to all those who enter and all those who would never leave. Despite this control Raphael had over his hellish home, it was steadily dwindling in the presence of the creature before him. Her scent was all that surrounded him. Her face that clouded his dreams. Her, the darling who bartered her soul so that her friends could be heroes and save her home of Baldur’s Gate. An honorable act had earned her a fool’s fate.

How the gods above should see her now, playing servant at his side on one of his castle’s many balconies with stoicism etched into her expressions, stray hairs whipped about her face by hell-wind. A golden tray with an ancient bottle of wine and a single goblet rested atop her upturned palms. Her eyes were frozen at a point ahead on the jagged and ashen landscape of his palace safely tucked away in his slice of Avernus. The darling dared not look at him—dared not spare him a glance that would hold him over through the night.

His lips curled in annoyance and he swore the woman braced herself. The slightest puff of her chest, the stiffening of her back already pin-straight. Raphael could not deny the swell of devious pride that just his change in attention caused such a reaction in her. She had been seeing him even without looking.

“Do pretend to be happy, little mouse. I could have you scoured away in my dungeons in Hope’s place, should you keep up your display of disrespect,”

He reveled in the way the delicate muscle under her eye twitched.

“Hope is a much better prize than I, devil, but do what you wish.”

Raphael let out a spirited sound from his chest. “Ha! What I wish for is a little appreciation for your current arrangement,” his eyes trailed down the woman’s body, the gossamer gown the color of the surrounding barren landscape leaving little to the imagination if he were to squint, “I allow you almost entirely free reign of the palace, meals, baths, music—“

“And endless poetry from yours truly?” She quipped. Her stoney stature finally broke. Raphael’s way to rejoice was to grace her with a slowly creeping smile.

“You’re such wonderful inspiration. Prayers ignored by the gods, forgotten by friends you risked your soul for,” the devil clenched a fist, “A little darling in the clutches of a fiend forevermore,”

Her gaze soured. The tray in her hands wobbled dangerously. “I know what I’ve done. That does not mean I have to enjoy it,”

“Ah, but it’s such a delight to try. Who knew lending fine treatment only leads to your torture instead?”

“‘Fine treatment’? I’m a servant,”

“My servant, yes,” Raphael stood, noting the way her eyes followed his form. He wondered if it would always be fear behind her fierce gaze or if he could see it change to awe. Or desire. Then he wondered again if he preferred the fear a little too much. “That’s what your contract says, dear one,”

“I know what it says!” She snapped. With a breath strained with anger she set the tray with his wine down on the small round side table nearby before it toppled completely. She stormed away from him, towards devils know where. Raphael remained quiet as he followed close behind—Oh how he loved to rile his little pet. He admired the glimpse of supple thigh as the material of her dress whipped around her legs in her movements of fury.

“Something burdens you,” Raphael gave no warning as his hand shot out to grip her wrist. The woman came to an abrupt halt at the threshold of his balcony. The golden bracer adorning her wrist clinked softly. “I gave your friends the solution they’d been fighting for, the happy ending you felt they so deserved. Yet you feel they don’t deserve it, right?”

Her jaw worked around her stuttered reply. “O-Of course they do.”

“Then what still burns so harshly in that brave heart of yours?” Raphael’s insides sang at the roll of her eyes.

“Do I really have to answer that?” She asked the air in front of her. Raphael gave but a small tug that had her spinning to face him.

His voice took a darker pitch. “Oh, I command it,”

This glorious creature of his stood shorter than he but perfected the act of looking down her nose at him nonetheless.

“Release me, devil,”

“That was not negotiable,” his grip tightened and the woman winced. She looked into his eyes, looking upon how they blazed in her presence. “And do call me Raphael,”

“Just yesterday you told me ‘it’s master to you’,”

“Answer,” he warned, and the woman squirmed. Her nostrils flared, that fire in her heart spread; Raphael basked in the heat.

“I regret every second,” she spat. “I called them friends. I held them. I even shared in their kisses. But they allow me to sell myself to help their cause. They left me down here to rot in a devil’s prison,”

Raphael inhaled deeply, audibly. “Your bitterness becomes you, darling. The taste of it is marvelous,”

The woman flinched, and he did not know if it came from his words or disbelief of her own. Raphael answered for her. “There it is. The truth you've been denying yourself of for all the time you’ve been in my domain,”

His little mouse’s fire doused. Raphael opened his fingers and she tucked her hand away. She hugged her arms across her chest, silky fabric catching gently on the gold bracer. “I did what I thought was right. I can only blame myself.”

“That is what I find most fascinating about you, dear one,” Raphael held her gaze and stepped closer, causing his delightful dear to maintain the distance with a hasty step backward.

“What’s fascinating?” Her question dripped with wariness though she refused to shrink away from him as he neared once again.

“Your loyalty to those most cruel to you. So-called friends wouldn’t leave you here this long without at least an attempt of rescue,” Raphael began, watching the woman’s nose crinkle, “The gods didn’t listen to you,”

“As you love to point out, devil,”

“Raphael,” he stated; a repeat reminder. “Let me finish now, pet.” He stalked forward until the woman had nowhere to run, nowhere to flee. Her back pressed against the stone railing behind her and her mouth pinched in helpless frustration. “The gods didn’t listen to you…” Raphael brought his knuckle under her chin and tipped it up so he could gaze upon the face that brought him such delicious turmoil, “but I will,”

Pretty lips parted and breath hitched. The struggle with realization danced behind her eyes. Her chin jerked back and away from his touch. What terrible games she played.

“There is nothing you can offer me,” she swallowed; Raphael watched her throat move and wanted to wrap his hand around it.

“On the contrary, my darling,” he pressed closer, sliding a leg between her own and finding now resistance. Her shock was evident, but she quickly gathered her wits and bared her teeth.

“You have Haarlep for your filthy needs,” The bite of her words left no marks.

“What of your filthy needs?” Raphael felt a smirk pull at his lips. “We are bound, dear one. I feel your loneliness—the ache it bears on you. You miss the affection of your companions. Look to me to remedy that,”

“I hate even looking upon your face, devil,” her palms pushed on his chest only to find him immovable. He took her hands in his and maneuvered her to face away. She yelped as her stomach pressed against the railing.

“Then don’t,” Raphael hissed in her ear from behind; he heard her swear in response. His hands released hers and they trailed up her arms. She dared not move. Gently as he wished, they slid over her trembling shoulders. Down her sides, to her hips.

Rage pooled around her, mixed with something else.

“You said you’d listen to me,” her statement sounded more like a question, asked with a sigh. Resignation. That’s what he detected.

“Yes, pet,”

Her hands gripped the stone she pressed against, “I want to see what my sacrifice helped,” she breathed unevenly, “That’s all I ask. I want to know exactly what I was worth,”

Raphael summoned a shimmering visage of the world above, of a healing Faerûn. Not free of conflict, but not at war; not under threat of the Elderbrain. Raphael felt the woman in his arms shake against his front but she held her head high.

“Thank you.” The statement was whispered but it echoed through him with all the strength it took her to say it.

“I am a man of my word, dear one,” he bowed his head and kissed the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. Another shudder ran through her. This time she did not resist.

“Make it quick,” she said. Her words were edged with malice.

“You ask impossible things of me,” Raphael nipped at her earlobe. It earned him a growl. He drank it in as his hands crawled over the front of her thin gown. The piece draped in front lifted with weightless ease. His darling shifted, making the curve of her ass press against his hips.

She remained wordless as he grazed the bare plane of her belly with his fingertips. He brought himself closer against her, molding around her body and gliding his mouth over her neck. “I want to touch you, dear one. I will touch you, in all the ways we both need,” She inhaled sharply as his hand sank further down her torso and his middle finger found the slit of her. Heat pulsed from her swollen bud under the pad of his finger. Raphael let out a deep purr.

His darling bit back a moan. “Damn it, devil…”

He chuckled darkly as collected her wetness and began to rub rhythmic circles. Her jaw opened soundlessly beneath his lips. Raphael parted from her enough to watch her eyes flutter closed. Fingers joined together and applied more pressure. She whined. Music to his ears. The devil played her sensitive body like organ keys. Her back bowed. In arching her back she became a crescent moon. Glowing and pure in his world of darkness. Just a little sliver of her could make him howl. And he heard it.

“Raphael…” she pleaded. He could have crashed into his own climax with the brush of a hand. His name cried from her lips brought the old devil halfway to salvation.

His fingers curled and pumped inside her tight heat, slick dripping between them. She came undone with her head thrown back against his shoulder, knees weakening enough to make him hold her up with his own body. His darling collapsed into him, knuckles white from her grip around the stone railing. His chin nuzzled her hair and lips planted a kiss to her temple. Embers and cherries scented the air. Teeth grazed her neck, begging to sink in and claim her.

There was no need. Her soul already his. Now her body too. Maybe now she would come to welcome him enthusiastically, to let him make her forget the shared moments of intimacy with her companions. Maybe now she would look upon him without fuss, and with reverence as he tasted more and more of her. The possibilities made his fiendish heart race.

As he panted into her skin, he thought of the numerous deals he refused made by her friends for her release. Some more tempting than others: ascension, a throne, a crown. Raphael found it all too easy to resist. He’d gotten what he’d desired and he’d tell her one day about her friends’ attempts at being heroes again. Only when he was sure they could both laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it. Only when he was sure she would choose nothing else than to be at his side. Raphael could taste the delight of that future on his tongue. He would have it one day. They had eternity together, after all.

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