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dragoneyes618 · 10 months

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fractured wonder

It is cold, far too cold to withstand; he shivers, ice scraping its way down his throat with every inhale, his fingertips turning blue.

Snow falls from a cloudless green sky, blindingly white, burning where it touches his skin.

The Tumtum tree stood tall and strong among a grove of other Tumtum trees, yet it is empty. Kitty and her mother live here, but they are not here now. No one is here. Where have they gone?

The tree's leaves are a deep, vivid green, so unlike the pale sickening shade the sky is now. As he watches, a single apple grows from amidst the perfectly round leaves, than another, and another, until all the trees are dotted with apples, too fast for nature, too many to count.

An apple falls into his outstretched hand. His fist closes around it, and it crumbles in his palm; rotting from the inside out, with only the thinnest red shell around it, giving it the appearance of a whole, perfect apple, it left a sticky mess in his hand, a horrible-smelling gray-brown rot dotted with scraps of red.

He wipes his hand on the bark of a tree, and the whole tree shudders.

More apples begin to fall as branches begin to break; never meant to carry fruit, their load is too heavy. Every apple smashes against the ground in a spray of gray-brown, or just lands in a mush of itself; every apple is completely rotten on the inside.

The leaves of the trees wither, shrivel, and die; from green to brown in seconds, they fall to the ground in their own macabre snowfall.

The grove is dead. Wonderland is dead.

Bunny checks her watch for the umpteenth time. "We're too late," she whispers.

They are at the gates of the palace, seeking to speak to the Queen of Hearts, to tell her what they have seen. He gently holds an apple he managed to salvage, as proof.

Surely the others should be here, to warn the queen? To tell her what has been going on? Everyone can see the sky and the snow. But the place is deserted. No one is here.

He can't remember the last time he saw the Queen of Hearts, or Lizzie. Why can't he?

Their knuckles are raw with knocking when the door finally grates open. An old hooded crone stands there, like an Ever After witch he once saw in an illustration in one of his mother's books.

"The Queen's unavailable. What do you want?"

The Queen was always available. He was going to be the Alice and she was going to be the White Rabbit. The palace was always open to them. Where was the queen?

He holds out the apple. She takes it, and smiles a smile that chills him to the bone, and crushes the apple in her hand before swinging the door shut.

He is trapped between the hedges, nothing on three sides but thick green leaves and wood and thorns, and in front of him is the Evil Queen, stalking nearer and nearer, her hands glowing with violet magic, smiling that awful smile.

"Little Alice," she hisses. "You are dead now, just like her! With no more Alice, Wonderland will be mine!"

She raises her hands, and his heart throbs in terror at the implications. He scrambles against the bushes, tearing the branches, but all he accomplishes is scrapes and scratches on his skin. He is not fast enough. His tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth; he cannot breathe. He's going to die.

The Evil Queen laughs, high and shrill, and he falls.

He falls, just like his mother did, and her mother did, and her mother did, all the way back to Alice Liddell.

There is dirt in his mouth and roots in his hair; he chokes on soil and lands with a thud on the ground. It is dark; he cannot see anything, but a voice he knows as well as his own says "Alistair, Alistair, are you all right?" A hand grasps his own; Bunny, in her human form. She has saved him.

"The gateway to Ever After is about to close," she says. "We have to hurry."

She pulls him up and runs down the tunnel; stumbling at first, he finds his feet quickly, running as fast as he can in the dark. He cannot see; there is no light, roots brushing his hair, blinking grains of soil out of his eyes, the air cold and damp, tripping over pebbles as he runs, but he trusts Bunny to lead him true, his hand clasped in hers.

They reach the end; the sudden green-tinged light making his eyes water. They need to get out.

He scrambles up, Bunny beside him, clawing themselves over the edge onto the grass. His arms and hands sting with scratches, earth driven deep under his fingernails. Bunny's face is scraped as well; her white hair is caked with earth and her rabbit-eared headband is missing.

There is an explosion of purple light in the distance, and the sound of shattering glass.

They run.

The grass withers beneath their feet, flower stems and vines wrapping around their ankles. Purple clouds cover the sun, moving closer and closer to them. He looks over his shoulder, and the world is in shadow, a dark mass creeping closer and closer. If it reaches them-

"Faster," he tries to will his feet, but he is no Hatter, and has not his mother's power.

In the distance there is a white tear in the fabric of reality, and a black-and-red figure disappears into it - so Lizzie was safe, thank Carroll. Then a purple, half-translucent shape. Then the White Queen, tall, alone, is all but shoved into it by the Mad Hatter, who steps into it himself, reaching out a hand for his daughter.

Maddie turns to see them. "Quickly!"

He hears that terrible laugh again, and turns to see the Evil Queen striding towards them, keeping pace with them easily. "Alice boy!" They are almost at the portal now, just a little closer. "You are mine!"

He throws himself into Maddie, shoving her through the portal. It closes as she falls through, so close that the edge of her shoe is sliced off. The magical heat burns his hands, and he gasps in pain as he hits the ground.

Bunny is beside him, both of them scrambling away from the Evil Queen through the trampled mud as she stalks closer and closer. She will die with him, because she was with him. At least he got Maddie through. At least he wouldn't be bringing another of his friends to his death along with him.

The white scar the portal left in the air hums, then stretches. Then it explodes.

He screams, his throat turned raw from heat. He sees the brilliant white flashes engulf the Evil Queen, a mirror appearing where she had been, with her reflection - no, her - inside it, the mirror shattering into a thousand pieces.

The land is mad, and not in a good way, not in the way it's supposed to be. He knows this, as he watches the Lion and the Unicorn fight each other.

Neither of them are will. Both of them are near-emaciated, yet with swollen muscles and bulging veins that throb green. The fever of their skin can be felt a dozen feet away, and their eyes glow green too. The grass shrivels under their hooves and paws, disintegrating into earth. They bear all the signs of infection; it is obvious. He knows this, everyone knows this, yet no one dares intervene, for fear of being infected next.

The Lion roars. The Unicorn charges. A still-untainted white horn plunges into the Lion's chest, black blood sizzling on the earth.

"You are ill," he says to Lily. "Rest."

The White Princess nods, slowly, dreamily, and settles back on her bed. She is thin, delicate, pale even for someone of her lineage. Even her mother the White Queen was not so chalklike. But then, it's been over a year since he's seen her; perhaps time has softened his memory.

Lily shivers. Her blue veins are all too visible beneath her pallor; her lips are tinged blue as well.

She's young, younger than him. Nine, ten? He remembers being taken by his mother to the celebration held on her third birthday, years ago, to celebrate the only one of the White King and Queen's children to reach that milestone. He remembers walking past the row of little white graves; they are still there now, with a bigger, grander tombstone at the end of the line, marking the resting place of the White King, who met his death only days after his only living daughter reached her third birthday, as though he had traded her wellbeing for his own.

The White Queen, griefstricken over her husband and all her other children, had ruled her section of the realm well. But she was gone now, fled through the portal to Ever After, leaving her Lily and all the others behind.

As though reading his mind, she whispers - he can't remember when she last didn't speak in a whisper, "I miss Mother."

"She waited for you," he says. He knows she did - he knows now why the Mad Hatter had to push her through the portal. She would not have gone regardless. She would have remained there, waiting for Lily, waiting for a daughter who was too frail to make it to the portal in time, and would have been cut down by an Evil Queen determined to vanquish every one of the realm's rulers and their heirs, whatever the cost.

"But she didn't come for me." Lily's eyes are huge and grey, luminous. Dressed in a white that nearly matches her pallor, her face and frame nearly skeletal, he could almost mistake her for a ghost.

"She can't, now," he explains gently, yet again. "The portals are closed. Sealed." It makes him melancholy, to talk of mothers.

"Rest," he says again. "Bunny - your White Rabbit - she's looking for medicine, or a healer. She'll be back soon. I can read to you in the meanwhile, if you want."

Lily nods.

"Which book do you want?" He goes to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, full of colorful volumes. Silence answers him, and he turns to see Lily with her eyes closed. She is breathing; her chest is rising and falling, very faintly. But other than that, she does not move.

He is clutching Bunny, in her rabbit form, in his hands; he can feel her heart thrumming, hummingbird-fast, against his fingers. He can run faster than she can in rabbit form, and right now, they need to move as fast as possible.

The White warren tunnels are tall enough for humans, to accommodate its' members propensity to turn into humans, as well as their human friends. He's never been so glad of it; if the tunnels were even a bit more cramped, he'd be dead.

He runs as fast as possible, like it's the Evil Queen chasing him all over again. He does not look back, but he can hear the growling, the earth churning through claws, feel the hot breath behind him, and he's certain the darkness glows green, even though he's facing the opposite direction.

Bunny trembles in his hands. This is her mother they are running from. But she's not really her mother, not anymore, not with the curse overtaking her mind. A five-foot-tall rabbit, with claws as long as his hand and teeth big enough to bite through his leg; there is no reasoning with her. All they can do is run, and pray she will tire before she catches them.

The White Rabbit tried to hold her off, tried to make her remember who she was, who they were. The White Rabbit lies crumpled on the floor of his burrow, white fur soaked red with blood. He does not know if Bunny's father is alive. All he can do is run.

They only have school, proper school, one day a year. He comes. Everybody comes. Everybody who is still here.

They slip in quietly, nervous pale faces, speaking in hushed voices, taking note of everyone who is here - and everyone who is not.

Whole sections of the school building are silent, deserted, the people who should be here in Ever After or worse. The silence, the emptiness, gives him shudders.

Little learning goes on here. They do not come to learn, not anymore; they come to reunite with old friends, to see who is still here, who has survived another year.

Every year, it gets quieter and quieter. Every year, the faces are less and less.

The throne rooms gleams, red and black and gold. But there is a sense of antiquity within it, like it is very old, unlike the last time he was here. When was the last time he was here?

He can see cobwebs in the corners. When Lizzie was here, there were never cobwebs in the corners.

"We found these two trespassing, Your Majesty," one of the Card Guards say, pushing him and Bunny forward.

He is the Alice. Bunny will be the White Rabbit. They do not trespass on the Queen of Heart's property. They have the right to be there; they are always invited, every member of their families, so how can they be trespassing? The two of them is nothing compared to the Swappersnatch Gyre, after all, and no one was ever punished for that.

But that was before.

"Well!" The Queen of Hearts looks different - paler, older, weary. Not a hint of green around her, thank Carroll. But then she smiles, her eyes lighting up, and he remembers a different smile and shudders; she looks vicious, bloodthirsty, like a macabre version of what Lizzie will look like when she grows up.

"The baby bird flies; the snake, it slithers," she proclaimed. "But the cage holds both, to die…and to wither." Her hand clenches around her scepter; he's sure he hears wood splintering. She laughs at their faces; her meaning is clear.

"What?" he says. She cannot mean this. He is the Alice. And Bunny is the White Rabbit - without her, there will be no Alice story. He had thought the Queen was not infected with the poisonous madness, but was he wrong?

"This is your last warning." She lunges toward them, and they both scramble backward. "Next time my guards catch you exploring..." She pauses, letting the tension build, although they all know what she will say. She is the Queen of Hearts, after all. "...it's off with your heads!" She laughs as they flinch away from her.

The Card Guards escort them out of the palace, past the spikes on the palace walls that used to be decorative but are now stained with red and rust-brown, the gleam of white bone. Bunny gags from the smell, and he does little better.

This is not the queen he knew from his childhood. Not at all. But then, he knew that already.

The sky is blue, but the clouds are tinged with green, and the air is deathly still, oppressive, as he walks down the path to his home. Something is about to happen. Something is wrong.

The door is ajar.

"Mother?" He knocks on the door, then opens it the rest of the way. "Mother, is something happening? Is something wrong?"

The house is shadowed. Mother does not answer.

"Mother?" The feeling of foreboding fills him; the house is silent as the grave. "Mother! Are you here?"

"Alistair." His voice is scratched, raspy, but definitely her. She is in a corner he was sure he looked in, but the relief that floods him is gone almost instantly. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something is very wrong. He feels it. He knows it.

"Mother." His voice is scarcely a whisper, dies in his throat. "Mother, what-"

He has only been gone a few hours, only to the Tea Shoppe for lunch and back. But Mother is different, somehow. She is deathly pale, her complexion tinged with an unhealthy green. Her cheekbones jut out sharply, the hollows beneath her eyes are deep and dark, and her eyes themselves-

They glow green, a sickly deathly green, when her eyes were blue, always blue, just like his.

His lips form her name, but nothing comes out.

"You need to run," Mother says. She steps forward, reaching for him, but jerks back her hand moments before his can touch it. Heat radiates off her skin.

"What do you mean?" he asks. "Run where? What happened?"

"Wonderland is in danger," she says, stepping forward; he is not conscious of stepping back until his shoulder brushes against the doorframe. "Me, you, most of all. You need to hide."

"But you-" he starts, reaching toward her again, but she does not grasp his hand. He does not know what is going on, but he knows one thing. "I'm not going anywhere without you, if we're in danger-"

She shakes her head. "I am gone already. But you - go. Run. Go to the Cheshires, go to the Mad Hatter, go to the White Rabbits. Not the queen - the queen is next."

"What?" he says. He has always loved solving riddles, and Mother gives him a new one to solve every week. But this is nothing like the funny, clever riddles she likes to create. He has never been this confused, never so frightened.

"Beware snow, and glass, and apples," Mother says, stepping forward again. He presses his back against the door, but does not open it. "Go!"

"I will get help," he says. It is all he can think to do. The Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts - someone. Someone who will know what is going on, what this strange sickness is that has overtaken his mother. "I will be back in a minute, Mother, just wait here, sit down and rest - I will get someone to help you."

"Go," she agrees, her eyes unfocused, absently reaching a hand towards the small mirror hanging above the fireplace. He doesn't know if she's heard the rest of what he said. "Get out. Never come back."

He flinches, but steps out the door.

He has only taken a single running step away when he hears from inside the sound of shattering glass.

"Mother!" he shouts, running back in.

The mirror is shattered into dozens of fractured pieces on the stone floor. There is no trace of Mother anywhere.

Something was screaming, and he flailed - he's being attacked, he has to run, where is Bunny, he can't find Bunny - he was covered in cloth, tangled up, he couldn't move, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe-

He tore through it, the sound of cloth ripping; cool air hit his face, and he breathed-

Someone was shouting his name. "Alistair! Alistair!"

Something shook his arm, and he yelled, recoiled, hit back - a grunt of pain; he scrambled backward, nearly falling off the edge of the bed-

The bed.

Wide soft mattress, pale blue sheets, darker blue blanket, ripped nearly in half-

Wait.

He sank his hands deep into the sheets; soft yet scratchy, warm, flimsy beneath his fingers. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of them; his breathing was fast and ragged, his heart still beating audibly in his ears. Ever After. He was in Ever After now. Ever After High, the school. Right. He wasn't in Wonderland anymore.

Well.

"Alistair," the voice said again, and he jumped; Sparrow Hood was on the other side of the room, on his own bed, hair tousled, eyes wide, fumbling to fit an arrow in his bow, which was already pointed at him. "Alistair, you - you okay?"

Alistair scrambled to remember the past few minutes. Mother - no, that was the dream. Tangled up in the blanket, thinking he was being attacked, hitting something - wait.

He struggled to remember how to translate the words from Riddlish; it's harder when he's just woken up, even harder when his mind has just been mired in the Land of Wonder and what it has become. "I'm - good. I'm awake now. Uh. Did I - did I hit you?"

Sparrow relaxed, letting his bow drop a few inches. He did not remove the arrow. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his cheek; it was too dark to tell if there was a mark there, but Alistair could see him wince. "Not too hard, though. I'm fine. You must've been dreaming pretty hard, I guess." The questions of what and why hovered silently after he'd finished speaking, left unsaid.

"I suppose," Alistair said.

Sparrow moved to put the bow on his nighttable. "So if you're sure you won't be shouting and punching in your sleep again...?"

Alistair winced.

Sparrow had had his room to himself until Alistair's unexpected arrival, and had made it clear that he did not appreciate suddenly having a roommate, a Wonderlandian at that. It wasn't that he was unkind to Alistair, he just tended to pretend Alistair wasn't there unless he needed to ask him something. Or wake him up from a nightmare and get punched for it.

Alistair had had nightmares often, even while still in Wonderland. Of Mother and the Evil Queen and the Queen of Hearts and the curse - of everything, really, just like now. They hadn't stopped just because he was safe and free.

He slept in the Grove, a lot. The other Wonderlandians did too. They would curl up beneath Wonder bushes and beside Wonder trees, letting the sights and smells of their homeland lull them to sleep, pretending they were back home.

But the nightmares had visited him there too, and he'd woken up screaming - well, nearly every time, actually. The last time he'd uprooted a young Wondodendron in his panic before he'd fully awoken. Lizzie insisted it was fine, that she could replant it and it'd be good as new, but he still felt guilty for destroying a piece of the tiny scraps of Wonder that was all they had here.

And the smells of the flowers, the shrubs, the trees - it was all exactly like Wonderland. Which was the point, of course; they were Wonderland plants. Sometimes they calmed him, soothed him. Other times....they didn't. He thought they might be contributing to his nightmares, making his sleeping mind think he was back in Wonderland. He'd hoped that, in the dorm, indoors, far away from any Wonderland plants, he might sleep undisturbed for once. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"I'm sorry," he said. That was a simple Ever After phrase he knew.

"I'm fine," Sparrow said again.

"I do not think I will dream again tonight," Alistair assured him. This was true - usually, after one sequence of nightmares, his mind was too exhausted to conjure another one, and he would fall into an uneasy sleep around daybreak or so. "I will probably not sleep again tonight anyway." This was also true; if it wasn't the nightmares, it was having trouble falling asleep in the first place. He'd nearly gotten used to it, the long hours lying awake in the dark. At least that way, if he thought of bad memories, he knew they were only memories.

Sparrow frowned, looking uncharacteristically concerned, but Alistair lay back down, pulling the ripped blanket back over him - he'd have to ask Lizzie and Bunny to help him mend it, tomorrow - and rolled over, facing away from his roommate, staring at the wall.

He missed Wonderland. The real Wonderland, not the twisted travesty it had become in the past few years. They all did, but there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Some parts of Alistair's nightmares of Wonderland are from his diary, to which I've added and dramatized details. Other parts are just things I came up with. Plus there's that one scene from Spring Unsprung.

The thing with Alice - basically I have a headcanon that the reason Alice never appears or is even mentioned in any EAH canon is because the Evil Queen killed or otherwise incapacitated her in the beginning of her attempted takeover of Wonderland. After all, what is Alice? Alice is Wonderland. What's the first thing you think of what someone mentions Wonderland? Alice, of course. Kill Alice, and you have all but defeated Wonderland. She didn't defeat Wonderland, of course, but not for lack of trying.

Also just assume that all conversations in Wonderland took place in Riddlish and were understandable because it was from Alistair's point of view, since I do not know how to translate things into Riddlish.

#ever after high #eah #alistair wonderland #bunny blanc #alice in wonderland #eah alice #sparrow hood #white queen's daughter #lily the white queen's daughter #alison of wonderland #eah wonderland #wonderland #wonderlandians

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

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Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9

Foolish flinched. Qackity’s shouting stopped abruptly. It was warmer (Las Nevadas was surprisingly cold). Foolish slowly opened his eyes. An open grave stood at his feet. His heart jumped into his throat and he stumbled backwards, falling on his back. He stared dumbfounded as a bee flew out from the grave and landed on his knee for a moment before flying away. Quackity was nowhere to be seen.

His breathing slowed and he looked around. He was in a graveyard next to a church. Was he dead? Was this limbo? What had happened? He wasn’t supposed to die… but he had died before. But if he had died just now he still should have had his third life, he should have respawned… maybe he had. Maybe he was still alive… That made more sense. No, wait, he still had all of his stuff, if he had died his inventory should have been empty… Foolish held his head in his hands and stared at the ground.

“You ok there, friend?”

Foolish’s head snapped up. A man with neon green hair stood on the other side of the stone wall surrounding the graveyard. Foolish quickly picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine… um- this may seem like an odd question, but, am I dead?”

The man laughed, “I don’t know, are you? I mean, I assume you're not dead, cause I’m not dead, unless you’re un-dead, if you know what I mean.”

Foolish let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Alright, I’m alive, i'm not dead,” He muttered, staring at the sky.

“You sure you’re fine?” The man asked again, putting air quotes around the ‘fine’. “Cause, you don’t seem fine…”

Foolish shook his head “No, really, don’t worry about me, I was just a bit disoriented, that’s all.”

The man pursed his lips and raised a brow “You asked me if you were dead… not if you had died. Which means you knew there was a chance you might get stuck in a respawn glitch. Have you been messing with server magic?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Foolish scowled and crossed his arms looking down at the man. He wasn’t in his twenty-three foot form but even in this form he stood almost a foot taller than the other man.

The man shook his head “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just dangerous. I mean, I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I condemned people for messing with server magic.”

Foolish didn’t look impressed. “It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I mean, I guess.” The man said rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated Foolish’s words “But no one is stupid enough to mess around long enough to get the practice...” He trailed off as he looked up to see Foolish looking at him with an incredulous look, “Oh.”

Foolish finally relented and his expression softened, “Maybe you're right, I mean, my name is Foolish after all,”

The man chuckled, “Maybe we're both a bit crazy. I’m Joe, Joe Hills. Nice to meet you,” He said, climbing over the low stone wall and reaching out his hand. Foolish smiled and shook it. Joe had a firm grip.

“So you said you have experience with server magic, what can you do?” Foolish asked as the two of them walked out of the graveyard and over to the church. This church was much nicer than church prime. As a builder Foolish could appreciate the detail put into the architecture.

Joe shrugged as he sat down on the steps and leaned back on his elbows looking up at the sky, “I can see better in the dark If I want to. Honestly, I don’t really mess with it much anymore.”

“Why not?” Foolish asked, leaning against the wall.

Joe shrugged but Foolish noticed his grip tighten into a ball. “It wasn’t worth it. A friend of mine got hurt and almost didn’t respawn. Actually, she should be around here somewhere, I wonder where she went?”

---

Cleo stood on a concrete road getting yelled at by an angry man with a scar through his left eye and a blue beanie.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck did you do to Foolish? Where is Foolish.”

“Aaa, Foolish is a Zombie!” another man wearing glasses and green suspenders yelled.

Cleo staggered backwards and summoned a sword from her inventory, “Who am I, what about who are you?”

“You better tell me, right fucking now, what the hell you did to Foolish or I’ll-”

“You’ll do what? Don’t try me, I’ll put this sword through your skull I will,” Cleo bluffed.

The man with the scar summoned an axe. “Charlie, go get Purpled, tell him we have an intruder in Las Nevadas.”

The man in green, presumably Charlie, looked at him perplexed “But, Quackity from Las Nevadas, why are we attacking Zombie Foolish?”

“Damn it Charlie, Just get Purpl-”

Cleo didn’t let him finish. A yell ripped from her lungs as she charged him, sword swinging. Quackity startled and blocked with the shaft of his axe. He shoved her off and she staggered back. Cleo dug her heels in swinging the sword like a club. There was a burst of pain, or more like cold (Pain felt different ever since the undeath) as his axe cut into her shoulder. But he was bleeding too. His axe returned to his inventory as he clutched his arm and staggered back. Cleo gripped her sword tighter, breathing hard, her eyes locked on him.

She felt the impact and another burst of cold as an arrow hit her in the chest. Her head snapped up, there was a kid in purple firing arrows from a crossbow as he ran towards them. He was wearing full netheriet.

Cleo turned and ran.

“Stop her, she fucking did something to Foolish!” Quackity shouted. She didn’t stop running as arrows landed about her feet. Down the road through a tunnel and past a stone fortress. Cleo scrambled off the road, over a hill. She could hear them still behind her. Dodging through the hills she was able to shake them by looping back around behind them as they continued on.

Once they were gone she slowed down. She touched a hand to her shoulder. It was throbbing with a dull ache and it felt cold, a deep cold like ice in her veins. She looked down. The arrow was still in her chest. She needed to do something about that.

She was back at the fortress. Cleo slid down the hill, climbing behind the wall and slumped against the stone. She gritted her teeth and pulled the arrow from her chest with a grunt, dropping it in the grass. A golden apple appeared in her hand and she took a bite, the juice tingling in her mouth as the regen and absorption began to take effect.

The throbbing eased a little and the wounds began to close. She looked up and froze. An enderman stared back at her with mismatched eyes. No wait, not an enderman, at least not quite. Half of his face was white.

“Hey Tubbo, I think I found out what Quackity was shouting about.” The half-enderman kid called over his shoulder.

Cleo staggered to her feet, her sword out. “I won't hesitate to-”

The half-enderman backed up and raised his empty hands “Oh no, we're not with Quackity,” He explained.

Cleo scowled but lowered her sword. “Well isn’t that lovely, someone who doesn’t want to stab me.”

He looked alarmed, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that- I mean, I definitely don’t want to do that.” Now that she got a better look at him he looked kind of young, he was tall but in the lanky teenager kind of way. He looked to be 18 or 19, maybe 17. His suit probably made him look older.

“Oh hey, so what was Big Q so mad about?” Another kid said as he came around the building. He stopped short when he saw Cleo. “Oh…” He was much shorter than the ender-kid. Two horns curled up out of his brown hair and almost every inch of exposed skin was covered in burn scars. Cleo let her sword return to her inventory.

“Big man, why is there a funny looking zombie in our base?” the goat kid said

Cleo bristled, “I’m still a person, thank you.”

The goat kid looked back at Cleo “Ooooh- oops.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and insulted her.”

“I didn’t meeean to, how was I supposed to know?” The goat kid wined.

The two bickered like a married couple. Cleo coughed “Um- would either of you two be able to explain what is going on,”

“Haven’t got a fucking clue,” The goat kid chirped, a little to cheerfully.

Cleo pursed her lips, “Well, could you at least tell me where I am?”

“Um… The road between Las Nevadas and Spawn. Or do you mean here-here. This is our cookie shop.” The ender-kid explained.

Cleo blinked.

“I think she means the server big man,” The goat kid said, “This is the Dream SMP.”

Cleo blinked again. So not Hermitcraft. Shit.

---

The goat kid introduced himself as Tubbo and the ender-kid as Ranboo. Cleo explained what had happened, which made Tubbo laugh. It turned out that the cookie outpost and Las Nevadas were in conflict and Tubbo liked the idea of doing something that would, in his words “Piss off Big Q.”

Cleo tried to return to Hermitcraft but was met with an error message. Tubbo and Ranboo offered to let her stay in Snowchester till she figured things out. They had no idea how she got there but they didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Snowchester was surprisingly far away from what the kids were calling a cookie shop. To Cleo it looked suspiciously like a military outpost but who was she to judge?

Snowchester was a quaint little walled in town, overlooked by a massive mansion worthy of any Hermitcraft base. There was a tower, docs, and a little wheat field mixed in with little log and stone houses. The air was crisp and cold, light snow fell around them landing on her hair and bare arms. Untouched snow coated the steps to most of the houses and closely shuttered windows looked back at her. The ocean lapped against the shore and the sound of a boat bumping against the pier carried up through the town. A single seagull landed on a stone wall. It looked at Cleo and cawed.

Ranboo and Tubbo lead Cleo around a strangely industrial building on a hill in the middle of the town with “Danger, keep out” signs on the doors.

“So what’s in there,” Cleo asked, nodding towards the industrial building.

Ranboo raised his brows and looked at Tubbo. Tubbo pursed his lips “Oh nothing much, that’s just where we do equipment testing. You’re not allowed in there,” he added. There was finality to his tone. Cleo wondered what he was hiding and if it was worth snooping around to find out, but there was a dark conviction in the way that the kid with too many scars said it. The way the ender-kid hovered at his side anxiously watching everything. Maybe she should be careful not to make more enemies.

They lead her to a little house behind the industrial building. “This used to be Foolish’s but he moved out so you can stay here for now,” Tubbo explained opening the door and letting them inside.

“Foolish… the guy who Quackity thinks I kidnaped? You’re giving me his house?” Cleo scoffed looking around. A square table and chairs stood off to one side, a counter with a furnace and cabinets lined the back wall and a cactus in a pot sat by the front door.

“Well, it’s not really his house anymore, he hasn’t lived here for months,” Tubbo shrugged.

Cleo sighed, “So long as he won’t mind. Goodness this whole situation is a mess.”

Ranboo gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Welp,” Tubbo clapped his hands. “We’ll let you get settled in. Just don’t go snooping around in people’s homes, we are pretty private people here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cleo said absently, still looking around the room.

Tubbo and Ranboo left, closing the door behind them.

There was a silence and then Cleo jumped at the sound of someone drinking milk. She spun around summoning her sword, freezing as the invisibility melted away to reveal Etho standing in the corner.

“Finally, I thought they were never going to leave,” Etho muttered.

“Etho! What are you doing here?” Cleo bristled.

Etho looked sheepishly off to the side as he rubbed the back of his head. “We’ll, I might have been following you. If you mean here on this server, we don’t really know. Oh yeah, TFC’s here too. We’ve been stuck on this server for about two weeks now. Least, I’ve been, TFC showed up about a week ago.”

“So wait, You're telling me you have been stuck on this server for two weeks?”

Etho nodded “Yup. Come on let's get out of here before they come back. We can talk at my secret base.”

Cleo pulled away “Wait, wait. Why? Why were you sneaking around? Why are we avoiding those kids? I would like a good reason before I turn down their hospitality.”

“This server isn’t what it seems to be. It’s seriously glitched out. Haven’t you noticed how many scars everyone has here, how many hybrids there are.”

Now that Cleo thought about it, even the ender-kid, Ranboo, had scars that looked like tears running down his face. Scars only happened when there was a glitch during respawn so they were pretty rare, the fact that three of the five people she had seen so far had obvious scars was concerning, especially with how bad the scars on that Tubbo kid were. On top of that, Quackity looked like he might be some kind of bird hybrid, with small golden wings, while Tubbo was a goat and Cleo had no idea what Ranboo really was. Hybrids were the result of pretty strong server glitches, and from what Etho was saying those guys weren’t the only ones.

“So the server is glitchy, that doesn't make them bad people,”

“There are places on this server that have been blown up all the way down to bedrock. Those kids who seemed so nice, they have nukes in that building right outside. There is a prison that everyone here is terrified of, seemingly for good reason. The Warden that guards it almost killed me while chasing me and TFC away, and said something about hunting us down and killing us till we were completely dead.”

Cleo blanched “Completely dead… like, they have a way of reliably preventing respawning here.” She remembered what it felt like being stuck in the void unable to respawn. For Joe it had only been a couple of minutes, for her it had felt like hours.

“I don’t know,” Etho shrugged. “I just think it would be best if we all kept a low profile till we can find a way out of here.”

“I… I trust you, Etho. But I don’t want to leave without letting those kids know that I won’t be staying here. They seem like nice kids, I’d rather not just disappear on them.”

Etho hesitated, then nodded “Alright, Just be careful, and take this,” He said handing her two invis pots. “You can find me in the sewers under their shopping district, there is a community center in the middle of a lake, the entrance to the tunnels is underneath it.”

Cleo took the potions and smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll be fiiine.”

“Ok,” Etho nodded and pulled his facemask down. He drank an invis potion before leaving the building.

Cleo sighed. Perma-death hum, would that even work on her? Seeing as she already kinda died before. She didn’t want to have to find out.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hc x dsmp au #foolish gamers #joe hills #zombie cleo #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #charlie slimecicle #purpled #etho #tfc #warden sam

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer.

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes.

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just… two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance.

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind.

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded.

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries.

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them.

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it.

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.”

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening.

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today, no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown.

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round.

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now.

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles.

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye.

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults.

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.”

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told.

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire.

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down.

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?”

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat.

“Fuck!”

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor.

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading.

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife.

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance.

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

“Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal.

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.”

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin.

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain.

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly.

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. .

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest.

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.”

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me.

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees.

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly.

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him.

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…” he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms.

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.”

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again.

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now.

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine.

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name.

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x OFC #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader

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eagehaunting · 3 years

Text

Mystery March 2021 Prompt 1: Healing

It happened way too fast.

One minute, Vivi had skipped out of the bathroom, hair bouncing and freshly curled, her pajamas soft and her skin softer from lotion. She felt clean, happy, hungry, and excited for her and Arthur’s movie night!

They had quite a bit planned. Horror movies, actions, some romantic comedies- something that didn’t feel quite right but Vivi brushed it off, since why should she question Arthurs choice in movies? - next they would drink, play video-games, and if they were up to it after dinner, they’d go on a midnight stroll!

“Arthur~” Vivi halfway called out, skipping into the kitchen, expecting to see him on the phone for pizza and sushi-

Except a man was there. Someone bulky and tall, with bright hair, who looked directly at her with a smile pulling across his face.

All of her muscles seized in alarm, leaving her frozen in the doorway.

The man’s gentle smile fell. He comes closer but there are no footsteps, nothing except for her own racing heartbeat. Getting faster, faster. Where’s Arthur? Who is this? ... why is she scared?

His palms were heavy on her shoulders, his fingers warm brushing the bangs from her forehead, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Vivi’s breath refused to come out, lodged in her throat.

In the next minute, her knees buckle. Her limbs both heavy and light, Vivi’s stomach and heart dropped in tandem. The man grabs her, gasping, shouting out into her house. Then theres racing. A pound of footsteps. A clatter of a book or plate falling. A bark and distant, rushing rhythm of what sounded like a river as Vivi’s senses dim. Her heart slowing, vision darkening, scents, feeling, all fading.

Until she didn’t feel anything.

And then... something cold and wet, smushed against her skin and lapping at the large, fuzzy pulse behind her eyes. Her neck and head aches, and something scratchy and somewhat push presses against her cheek. A soft clammer of sound fizzes in and out of focus. One that’s close, that she can almost feel vibrating against her head, and another that’s far off. She can hardly latch onto the conversation, far too tired to even open her eyes.

A faint smell of pepperoni, mushrooms and garlic swirls in the air and she salivates. Gulping, a smell of citrus and apples also mix in, then earthy... a candle, she’s sure. Arthur... he lit it often when they were on trips... he mentioned before that it helped her reme-

The pulse in her eyes throb, and Vivi can’t stop herself from hissing and pressing her cold, clammy hands against her burning eyelids.

The wet smush sniffles and it’s loud breath makes Vivi flinch. Only there was a heavy weight pinning against her hip, shuffling to keep balance.

Wait.

Vivi opens her eyes with a sharp inhale, eyes wide and stinging from the headache that refused to stop, and a gleam of light that immediately shot into her eye.

“Ow- fuck!” Vivi grits her teeth, covering her eyes. But the weight on her hip and the scratchiness under her chin didn’t stop. Soft fur and hard claws pinch as her side as it scrambles to move, and something large shifts her pillow-

Now shielding her eyes, Vivi forces her eyes open.

Instantly, she’s met with Mystery’s, and he makes a soft noise as he shuffles off her body. She herself was laying on her side on the couch, tucked snuggly into her pillow. The kitchen light was dimmed, and the only specks of light was candles that glowed at the end of the couch and something bright behind her.

“Mystery, c-cmon, be careful! You’re tearing her up.” A voice scolds- scratchy and course and almost annoyed.

Shit. As soon as Mystery slides off her, Vivi props her elbow against the cushion, which bumps against something distinctly hard and what faintly smelled of sweat.

Vivi twists her head, and she squints up at the culprit who had her head pretty much in his lap. Arthur’s elbows were up in surprise, lips tight. A golden halo of light shines around his head- blacking the lamp entirely...

“V-Vivi, cmon lay back down-” he starts, hesitantly letting his hand fall on her head, petting it gently- trying to get her to lay back down.

“S-stop it, I’m up.” Swatting it away, Vivi sucks in her breath and winces, pushing herself up onto her knees- unfortunately also putting her eyes back into the spot light of the lamp. The couch shifts the smallest bit as Arthur relaxes.

“You okay?” he asks in a soft voice, eyes darting from hers to something over her shoulder, probably Mystery.

She opens her mouth, before nodding her head. “Ye-yeah, I’m good.” Her elbows shook, locking up for the most support. “Uh.. mind filling me in on what went down?”

Arthur nods uncertainly, “Your memory kinda... it went kinda fucky-wucky?” He chuckles anxiously and the smile on his face is too tense to fool her. He clears his throat, “but you start. What do you remember?”

Eyes fluttering shut, Vivi leans against the couch and presses her palm against her eye. “I just got dressed, and we had a movie night... I thought I heard you in the kitchen so I went inside and -“ her memory fizzles, refusing to recreate anything more than blurry shapes. Furrowed eyebrows, heavy hands, an imposing mass, purple... hair...?

Vivi’s heart drops, “And I saw Lewis.” Fuck! It was Lewis! Of course it was Lewis, what the fuck-! Breathing quickly, Vivi struggles to twist herself around to get to her feet, even as Arthur jumps to stop her.

His hands grab her shoulders, but it wasn’t what stopped Vivi in her tracks.

Besides the hall entrance, at the foot of the couch, Mystery sat there and watched her. But behind him, peering behind the wall and directly at her, was Lewis.

His face twisted into a miserable frown, eyebrows twisted, but obviously more concerned about her-

“Lewis!” Vivi’s legs launch her forward, and her hand misses the table she expected to be there and she collapses against the rug. All the men gasp and jump up, but Vivi is fast to push herself up and nearly charge the ghost who froze upon realizing that she was diving for him.

“Lew-“ Vivi grips his shirt for support and his arms wrap around her, making up for the shakiness that took hold of her legs. Vivi doesn’t think about it, instead forcing herself to look at his worried, glimmering eyes. “Lewis, I am so sorry.”

”Vivi, it’s okay-“

“No, it’s not!” Her headache thrashes. “I didn’t - I didn’t realize it was you and I’m sorry, I -“ her voice falls short. How could she even apologize? How do she explain sudden terror at the sight of her boyfriend?

“Vivi, hold on.” Arthurs behind her now, his fleshy arm looping behind her back, and together he and Lewis shuffle the three of them to sit on the couch, with Vivi sat in the middle, held steady. Mystery makes his way over and sits between her knees, not saying anything but baracading her in.

Arthur scoots himself so that way he faced both of them better. “Okay, let’s talk, but let’s just be chill, be calm.” He glances from both Lewis to Vivi, but he was the most frazzled, his hand up and trembling lightly as the cogs turn in his head.

Eventually, Lewis leans over and pats his thigh, signaling Arthur to calm down, and the three of them sit quietly for a moment.

Lewis is the first one to break the silence, fingers drifting over hers. ”How are you feeling, Vivi?”

“Like shit.” Vivi winces and mentally kicks herself. It wasn’t a lie by any means, but Jesus she could have said it better. “I-I mean I feel.. fine. I have a headache and feel a bit guilty, you know.” She waves her hand uncommittedly and lets out a sigh, unable to hold his gaze. “Sorry about all that.”

”Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“It feels a bit like it.”

Arthur clears his throat, “that doesn’t change anything. You didn’t choose to have memory issues.”

Frowning, Vivi sinks into the cushion, “like how you didn’t choose to do the... yeah.”

”Exactly. I’m just... glad I caught you.”

Vivi winces, and she lulls her head to look at him.

“So I fainted?”

”Yes. I managed to catch you, but Arthur mainly helped me get you set up.”

“Which was on your lap.” Vivi tried to be the smallest bit humorous, but Arthur takes a moment to return the smile.

“We-well! Lewis asked me to have you there! He..”

”I wanted him to make sure you were still breathing,” Lewis admits, ”I figured it would be better if you saw him there instead of me if you woke up while Mystery... treated you.”

“Oh...” gulping thickly, Vivi nods, “yeah, I get that... thanks. And thanks for the candle.” The smell of apples of earth and citrus was pleasant, allowing a warmth to spread over and cover the receding shame.

”Arthur said it was your favorite.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Vivi shrugs, letting her eyes fall shut, and she hums. “Recovery ritual or not, I like it. Thank you guys.”

The two nod and shuffle close, wrapping Vivi in a hug.

“Of course, Vi’.”

”We’re just happy that you’re okay.”

#mysterymarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #Vivi yukino #lewvithur #eage fanfic #mystery March 2021

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toxophilitis · 3 years

Text

Hot Daughter Peeps cont

CHAPTER THREE

Tracy took another long peek. She kept her body hidden, just in case the man turned and looked her way, and her eyes roamed freely. Now she noticed how much hair he had on his legs and chest and pubic area. And she gazed a long time at the way his fist pumped up and down on his rigid cock. It was a big, thick cock.

It's wet, she said to herself. The top of it was all wet. For some unknown reason, that excited her. Her heart beat faster and harder. Blood rushed in her head. She tried to swallow and she almost choked because her throat was suddenly very dry. She licked her lips as she watched the man jerk his prick.

Her left hand rose to her taut young tits and her fingers toyed with her spiking pink nipples. Her right hand slithered down her belly and her fingers delved into her open, wet pussy. Her knees began to shake and she felt weak all over. The mere sight of Mr. Benson pumping his prick was compelling and very disturbing.

"Ohhhh," she breathed hotly, eyes glued and fingers busy.

The tits she was playing with got as hot as the cunt she was rubbing. Then her whole body got warm and Tracy realized that she was horny, like on the bed. So this is what it's like to get turned on, she thought. Is this how Mom feels with that guy?

Her eyes traveled up to Al Benson's face and she blushed again, as if he could see her peeking. It was hard for her to imagine that that huge cock belonged to nice Mr. Benson. Were all cocks that big? Like in the pictures?

She tweaked a nipple and rubbed her clit. Good feelings ran through her. Then she shuddered a little, remembering that this was the man who had been staring at her lately. He had even invited her into his house just the other day. The invitation had frightened her, and now she wondered just what did he want that day.

Would he have done something to her? Would he have kissed her? Touched her? Felt her up? Did he want to see her naked? These questions filled her young mind as she watched him jerk off. They were burning questions for a young girl who was still a virgin.

She actually found herself thinking about visiting him, and the thought alone scared her half to death. What are you thinking about! she chided herself.

But the more she looked at his cock and the more she diddled her pussy, the less frightening was the idea. After all, he was a nice man. And he seemed to think she was very pretty.

But if she went over there, would he do things she didn't want him to do? Would he have to fuck her? What if they just kissed a little and sort of played with each other? Would he do that? He was a nice man. Maybe he'd even lick her pussy.

Tracy's hot thoughts were interrupted when Al Benson stirred a little on the sofa. She ducked her head back with her heart up in her throat again. What if he saw her peeking!

But when she looked again, he was still in the same position, face forward, fist slowly sliding up and down on his massive prick. It was at that moment that Tracy realized he wouldn't look her way at all. Now she saw that he was actually mesmerized by something. Then it dawned on her. Why, he's watching TV!

But what could be on TV that would make him jerk off like that? Burning with curiosity, she pranced into the living room and turned on the television. She searched the channels and found the six o'clock news on a lot of them. The others revealed nothing either.

How strange, she thought, turning the TV off. She walked back into her bedroom with a puzzled look on her pretty face. Her curiosity had to be satisfied. With that goal in mind, she pulled on a pair of tight jeans and slipped a T-shirt over her head. Barefoot and beautiful, she made her way through the kitchen and out the back door.

She stole quietly over the driveway to the ash cans. She stepped up on one and lifted herself up. Crouching low, she peeked over the sill of her neighbor's window. Holding her breath, she peered inside and saw that Mr. Benson was watching a fuck film on his TV.

Her mouth fell open. Her eyes went wide. Of course! He has a VCR! He's watching dirty movies! Oh, wow!

Her bright eyes glued to the TV screen and her heart raced behind her jutting tits as she watched men and women fuck and suck and moan and groan. It was like having a magazine picture come to life. It was exciting! So exciting that Tracy grabbed her crotch and mauled her pussy through her jeans.

That didn't do it for her, so she stuffed her hand down inside the jeans, then her fingers were able to fondle the hell out of her hot cunt. Staring at the horny action, she pressed her tits against the house and scraped her nipples there while she finger-fucked her pussy.

Over-aroused, Tracy lost all inhibitions and girlish reluctance. Impelled by a hot pussy and headful of sex, she jumped down from her peeking position and walked around the house to Al Benson's back door. She knocked.

She felt like a lamb entering a wolf's den, but the hotness of her cunt was stronger than her fear. She knocked again, breathing rapidly.

Al Benson came to the door finally, in his robe. His eyes lit up when he saw Tracy, with her tits protruding in a tight little T-shirt.

"Well, hello, Tracy," he said with a smile. "Hi, Mr. Benson. Could I borrow a cup of sugar?"

"Sure. Come on in."

She entered his kitchen and closed the door behind her. Al went to a cupboard and got a cup, and filled it with sugar.

Tracy had to deliver her message fast: "My mother won't be home until ten and I thought I'd have a cup of tea with sugar in it, but we ran out of sugar."

Al turned and looked at her, a small version of a big girl, shapely and mouth-watering. His cock hardened a little under his robe. He grit his teeth against the insane urge to deck her and rape the hell out of her young body.

"Here's your sugar," he said thickly.

Tracy took the cup in her small hand and set it on the table. She looked up at him with bright blue eyes and said, "I didn't really come over for sugar."

Al's Adam's apple bobbed. He almost choked on his tongue. "You didn't?"

"Then, why..."

Her hot pussy gave wings to her words. "I've seen how you look at me, Mr. Benson, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking sexy things about me. Huh?"

"Well..."

"You don't have to be embarrassed. It makes me feel pretty, the way you look at me." She flashed him a smile. "And sexy, too. Am I sexy?"

"You're beautiful!" he gasped, afraid to believe his ears. His prick rose up and made a bump in the front of his robe.

Tracy heaved a sigh that made her tits rise up and point sharply. "I peeked in your window," she confessed.

"What? When?"

"Just a little while ago. I saw what you were watching. Can I watch TV with you?"

"Christ!" he groaned, his cock throbbing. "Are you serious?"

"Uh-huh," she smiled, then gave a little giggle that made his prick jump. "But don't get the wrong idea. I mean, I'm not a bad girl. I mean... if I thought you wouldn't..."

"Fuck you?" Al put in boldly.

"Yes. I'm a virgin, and I wouldn't want you to think that I..."

"I won't touch you!" Al blurted hotly. "It would be a pleasure just to have you watch it with me! Come on inside!"

Tracy's head pounded as she perched her cute little ass on Al Benson's sofa. He sat a few feet from her. She kept her eyes on the TV, now showing the news.

"Put it on," she said softly.

"Uhhhh, yeah, sure," Al stammered, still not quite sure what to believe.

He turned the VCR on. The news disappeared, and the fuck film he had been watching filled the screen. He glanced over at pretty Tracy and shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes," Tracy said. "I was just over there looking at some of my mom's naughty magazines. Then I saw what you were watching and I just had to see it!"

God damn! he thought hotly. And here he had been busting his balls to keep from scaring the kid! What an awakening! Sweet Tracy was a horny little bitch! And a virgin!

Tracy watched her first fuck film with the concentration she had used as a kid on cartoons. The males and females, fucking in rhythm with nice modern music, was enough to make her nipples stand up and her clit tingle. She got antsy after several minutes.

Without looking over at Al -- she was a little afraid to be that bold -- she said, "You can take your robe off if you want to."

"You saw that, too?" he choked.

She didn't say anything, just kept her eyes on the screen and the hot action. Al hesitated for a moment, just until he realized that Tracy actually wanted to see his cock. She was a virgin, he told himself, but she was naturally curious. Why not help the kid out?

He opened his robe and threw it wide. He leaned back and his prick stood up, tall and wet and throbbing. Tracy's eyes struggled to stay on the TV, but Al's naked prick was like a magnet. Her eyes darted over and gazed at him.

"Oh, wow!" she breathed.

Al felt more comfortable with her now. He smiled and slid his fist up and down on his hard-on.

"Is this the first cock you've ever seen?"

Tracy nodded slowly, unable to talk, her eyes glued to his swollen cock. To please her eyes, Al slowly jerked on his prick, displaying it for her edification. Having her look at it made it bigger than ever.

"I've never even seen a boy's," she confessed. Al chuckled lewdly. "So this is your night for sex education, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Tracy laughed. "It's been like that all week. The other afternoon, on the way home from school, I saw two dogs doing it. Then my mom went out, and I found her magazines and..."

"And, what?"

Tracy blushed. "Her vibrator."

"You did, huh? And what did you do with it?"

"I'd better not say," Tracy said. "And then you saw me?"

"Yes. I didn't mean to peek, but... well... I... never saw a man do that."

Al slid his fist up his cockshaft to his cockhead. "Does this excite you?"

"Yes."

"It would feel even better if you did it for me," Al told her.

"Oh, I couldn't!"

"Maybe if I got you in the mood," Al said. "What do you mean?"

"Like that man there. See what he's doing to the woman?"

"He's licking her tits," Tracy reported. "Yes. And I'd like to lick yours."

"And that's all?" Tracy asked fearfully. "Promise," Al said.

The promise did it.

"Okay," Tracy said.

Suddenly she hiked her T-shirt up in front. She bunched it up and held it high above her ripe, jutting, pink-tipped tits.

"Jesus!" Al groaned.

He leaned over to her and licked at her pink nipples with his thick tongue. Tracy whimpered immediately, and fed her tits to him. Al snuggled closer and lapped his hot tongue all over her taut, young tits.

"Oh, wow," Tracy breathed and, feeling safer with the nice man, settled back against the arm of the sofa.

Al caressed her naked ribs and sides and rubbed her tits hornily. Then he took a nipple between his teeth, very gently, and nibbled at her. He gave it a suck and Tracy moaned. Knowing then what the kid liked, he sucked the hell out of both nipples until Tracy was a trembling, moaning little nymph.

His mouth grew very wet on her tits and he licked and sucked to his bean's content. These were the tits he had seen grow day by day, week by week, month by month. Tracy's tits had been on his mind a lot lately.

He kissed, licked and sucked them like he loved them, and Tracy got the full benefit of his passion and adoration.

"Golly," she breathed after a while, "I didn't know it would feel that good..."

Her breath grew hotter by the minute and every once in a while her little ass squirmed on the sofa. Al's mouth was getting to her. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she glanced over at the TV.

"He's not licking her tits any more," she panted.

Al took a look at the guy with his face buried in the woman's bushy cunt.

"No," he said. "He's licking her pussy."

He looked at Tracy... breathing hotly and slumped on his sofa. Her hands had replaced his mouth. She had her tight young tits cupped in both hands, feeling them, fingers toying with her spiking pink nipples. His eyes met hers and an incredible heat arose between them.

Silently, slowly, carefully, he hooked his fingers into her jeans with one hand, and with the other he unzipped her. Tracy took a deep breath and waited.

He eased her jeans downward, below her navel. Tracy swallowed hard, nervously, but lifted her ass up off the sofa so he could take her pants off of her.

He peeled the tight jeans down her curvy young thighs and lovely legs. Tracy kicked a little at them as her excitement mounted. They dropped to the floor and she was splendidly naked from tits to toes.

Her eyes burned into him as her growing passion took over. As if she needed it more than anything else in the world, she slowly spread her cute legs and let Al see all of her horny little pussy.

"Want me to lick it for you?" he asked hotly.

"Yes," Tracy said weakly.

She riveted her eyes to the fuck-scenes on TV and surrendered her cunt to a man's hot tongue. The first lick of his tongue made her gasp. Her hands squeezed tightly on her tits and she stretched her leg farther out on the floor to fully expose her hot cunt.

She panted as Al licked his tongue up and down her cunt-crack, and she mowed when he inserted it between her tight pussy-lips. Al breathed hotly into her pussy-hair and shafted his tongue up into her juicy young cunt-hole. "Oh!" she cried.

Her eyes closed in rapture as the man licked all of his tongue into her cunt. This was the cunt Al had dreamed of. Now he attacked it with his lips and tongue and teeth. He foraged in her young crotch and enjoyed himself immensely. It was the youngest pussy he had ever eaten.

Tracy went crazy on the sofa. Her wildest dreams didn't match this overwhelming reality. Al's tongue drove her out of her mind with lust and need and horniness. She came alive for him, clutched her tits, humped her cunt, and begged for more in her sexual delirium.

"More! More!" she gasped hotly, pushing her pussy up at his mouth. "Ohhhh, Mr. Bensonnnn... that's amazing! Eweee, do more, do more! Oh, ohhh, ohhhh, my pussy's so hot and wet! More, more!"

To her horror, Al suddenly raised his face from her churning cunt.

"Oh!" she squealed. "Don't stop now! I'm gonna cum!"

"Will you suck my cock afterwards?" Al wanted to know. "And make me cum?"

Tracy's eyes went wide on the TV screen. A huge, cock was gushing violently, spitting giant wads of cock-cream.

"You mean... like that?" she gasped. "Yes, like that," Al rasped hotly. It was the first prick Tracy had ever seen shoot. It looked ominous.

Al gave her quivering little clit a nice lick. Tracy's ass jumped.

"Will you?" he prodded.

"I'm gonna cum!" Tracy cried after that lick. "Lick it again!"

"Are you going to suck me off later?" he asked.

Tracy hunched her hips and threw her cunt up at him, horny out of her young mind. She needed his tongue in her pussy if she was going to cum good.

"Yes!" she cried.

"Promise?" Al pressed on.

"Yes, yes, yessss! Oh, please, Mr. Benson. Don't tease me! Suck my pussy! Ohhh, make me cummm! I'll suck you, I'll suck you!"

With that promise, Al attacked her hot crotch again and ate her out. He filled her tight little cunt with his tongue and wiggled it until she came like crazy all over his mouth.

Her fingers clawed at her aching tits and she fucked her pussy on his drilling, plunging tongue. She came wetly, hotly, hornily, and then she knew for herself what those magazines and movies were all about.

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littlelovelyspiderling · 3 years

Text

Unmasked

Spider-Man is forced to fight the Sinister Six while he’s sick, which leads to his enemies making unexpected discoveries about their arch nemesis.

Chapter 3

Ow.

That was the first coherent thought that registered in Peter’s brain.

Pain. He was in pain. A lot of it.

It started with the sunlight shining directly in his eyes through the ceiling-high windows. Then there was the sharp ache in his left leg. Then a sting in his shoulder. A cramp in his stomach. A throb in his skull.

And then, everywhere.

Peter was hurting all over. And yet, it was dull, distant, hazy hurt, like he was a ghost floating above his body after it had been run over by a dump truck.

Ugh…

His eyes scrunched into angry lines before fluttering open. His vision was fuzzy, unfocused, and no amount of blinking seemed to fix it. His brain felt like it had been replaced by three tons of bricks.

What…where…

He was…inside someplace. It was bright—way too bright. The ceiling overhead was tall and white. He was lying on a couch that felt like it had never been sat on before.

Am I…dead…?

His muscles were stiff as stone. He feared for a moment he was paralyzed, until he felt his fingers twitch, followed by his toes. It hurt—a lot—but hurt was better than numbness.

Okay. Not paralyzed. Hopefully not dead.

“Mmmgh,” he moaned. Slowly, he slid his hands back and pushed off the couch, lifting himself into a sitting position. “Oh, god…”

His skin was hot and sticky. Every bone, organ, and cell ached. He still felt sick, but now with about seventy extra ailments piled on top of that, which meant he was probably still alive.

Probably.

But how?

The last he remembered, he was getting his ass handed to him by the Sinister Six. For as long as he’d operated as the masked vigilante Spider-Man, he’d never gotten thrashed that badly. How did he get away? Did someone rescue him? Had the Avengers swooped in and saved his dumb, in-over-his-head ass right after he’d blacked out? But how could they have gotten there in time?

And where the hell was he?

Now that he was no longer lying down, the room had started listing a little. Peter reached up to rub his temple and felt something crinkly stuck to his head. He grabbed hold of it and started peeling it off his skin, wincing from the pain. Once he’d torn it free, Peter held the unknown object in front of his eyes. It was a large, bloody bandage.

Huh.

Peter’s eyes dropped to his lap. A thin blanket was draped over his body. When he lifted it away, he cringed.

His torso was a gruesome patchwork of Frankenstein-style stitches and bandages. He counted three sets of sutures on his upper body alone, plus four other cuts and scrapes held together with butterfly tape. His entire chest looked like one gigantic bruise. Plus, the burns—some from scraping across coarse concrete, others from actual fire. Every small movement sent waves of pain rippling across his body.

Yeesh, he thought, poking gingerly at the bandages on his shoulder. Well, someone friendly had to patch me up. But who?

Peter let the blanket slip from his fingers. Grimacing, he swung his legs off the couch and carefully placed his feet on the floor. Sweat slipped off his brow and dripped onto his knee.

“Okay,” he breathed. Peter inhaled sharply, then threw his weight forward, standing upright for an instant. Then he collapsed, gasping. Dizzying agony blossomed in his left leg and thumped like a second heartbeat.

“Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. He glanced back and saw his shin had been fashioned with a makeshift splint: two metal rods and ass-load of packing tape.

Right. Broken leg. The sound of the bone cracking in half reignited in his memories, sending a shudder down his spine.

Peter used the sofa to pull himself off the ground. This time, he placed all his weight on his right foot, using his left only for balance. His body ached and trembled with the effort it took to stand, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Ouch. Ugh. Okay. Yeah. That’s a start. The fuzz in his vision was starting to dissipate, but the fog in his brain clung like fungus. It felt like he’d been inhaling a bunch of that laughing gas stuff his dentist had given him back in the 6th grade when he had to get a tooth pulled. His head was heavy and light at the same time.

The room was a lounge area with stiff furniture and minimal decor. A wilted fern sat in the corner alongside a weird, tall block with a piece of metal sticking out of the top that Peter assumed was some form of modern art. The walls were entirely bare except for a small landscape painting that looked like it belonged in a motel bathroom. There were two other chairs across from the couch, a coffee table, a gray rug, and that was basically it.

Beside the fern, a pair of double doors stood wide and closed. When Peter strained his sensitive ears, muffled voices could be heard conversing in the other room. Curiosity plucked at his chest.

“Um…hello?” he called, voice raspy. He approached the doors, hopping more than walking, gritting his teeth as his injuries burned and throbbed, heat radiating feverishly off his skin. By the time he transversed the room, he was out of breath, lightheaded. He leaned against the wall for a minute and cycled slow gulps of oxygen through his lungs.

Once he’d somewhat recovered, Peter limped in front of the large doors. The voices were louder now, but not loud enough to be recognizable. They sounded mostly male. Peter took a deep breath, reached out his arm, and cracked the door open just a hair to peek inside.

It was a kitchen—that was the first thing he saw. A man stood at the island with his back to the doors. Across from him was a round dining table with a bowl of fruit in the middle.

“How is he?” the man asked, biting into an apple. His voice was definitely familiar.

“Still hasn’t woken up, right?” another responded.

Maybe this is another one of Clint’s safe houses, Peter thought. Or an Avengers’ base I’ve never been to before. Or a secret sitting room in some tragically decorated S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Or—

Seconds before Peter opened his mouth to say hello again, the man eating the apple turned around. When Peter saw his face, his heart jumped out of his chest and splattered at his feet.

“I don’t know,” Herman Shultz said over a mouthful of fruit. “Has he?”

The oxygen around Peter vanished in an instant. It’s Shocker! The guy who broke my leg! W-what the hell? What is he doing here?

“Not from what I’ve heard,” the second voice continued. Another man entered his narrow line of vision, this one lit up like a neon sign, and Peter’s throat seized.

“You’re not being very helpful, Maxwell.”

“I told you not to call me that! I’m Electro!”

Shocker held up his hands. “Right, right, sorry. Electro, then. You’re not being helpful.”

What the shit, what the shit, what the actual, living shi—

“Don’t ask me about these things. Ask the doc.” He lifted his head and grinned. “Look—here he comes now.”

Clank, clank, clank. Heavy, metallic footsteps rang in Peter’s ears and shook the floor beneath him. Horror and disbelief flooded his veins as the eight-limbed scientist stepped in front of him, hardly three feet away, pushing a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Ask me about what?” Doctor Octopus said.

Peter leapt back from the door, clamping both hands over his mouth.

Oh…my god. It’s them.

“I just wanted to know how he was doing.”

They’re here. They found me. They came to finish the job.

Half of the super villains that had just wrecked his shit were standing in the neighboring room. Hell, maybe all of them were. They’d probably taken whoever had helped him hostage, or perhaps the poor soul was already dead. He wouldn’t stand a chance like this. He didn’t have his suit, his webs, nothing. He’d tried his best to fight them when he was just sick with the stomach bug, and look how well that had turned out for him. If they attacked him now, one solid hit was all it would take to knock him out. Or, if he was being fully honest, kill him.

Peter’s eyes darted frantically around the room. I have to get out of here! He hobbled toward the wall of windows and placed his hands against the glass. It was at least four inches thick; probably bulletproof. But it was his only option. With a shivery grunt, Peter hoisted himself off the floor and crawled toward the ceiling, every step piercing him with flashes of pain.

Okay. Launch off the ceiling, kick through the glass, make a run for it. In his loopy, concussed mind, the plan sounded foolproof. The voices of his enemies were growing louder; Doc Oc’s footsteps were approaching rapidly. It was now or never.

Hanging off the upside-down surface, balancing on his good foot, heart racing, head dizzy and faint, Peter threw himself at the window. He hit the glass with a loud thunk, bouncing off like a bug on a windshield, then crashed on top of the weird modern art piece, shattering the mahogany box into wood chips.

Peter lay sprawled in a heap in the wake of his failure, groaning and dazed. As he forced himself upright, gripping his head in his hand, the doors behind him burst open.

“What the hell?” Doc Oc exclaimed, alarm caked across his expression. When his gaze landed on the young superhero floundering in the splintered remains of his college art project, stunned and disheveled but now awake and wide-eyed, his muscles relaxed slightly. “Spider-Man?”

“Holy shit, he’s awake,” Electro said.

“And he destroyed your favorite sculpture,” Shocker added.

Peter’s eyes dashed between the three men, wild and afraid. He’d been unmasked by his absolute worst enemies—but that seemed the least of his troubles. I’m toast, he thought. Tiny pieces of wood clung to his hair, face, and back. Seeing him conscious for the first time sent a spark of relief through Doc Oc, though he hadn’t expected him to wake up for at least another day; the combination of pain meds he’d given him was pretty strong. When Octavius moved an inch closer to him, Peter scrambled to his feet and backed away, tripping over himself in the process and heavily favoring his right leg.

“Spider-Man—” he began, trying to keep his voice level. Spider-Man picked up a chunk of the destroyed box and chucked it at him.

“S-stay back!” he shouted. His voice was shrill and cracked at the end of the demand. Damn, Otto thought. The evidence of Spider-Man’s youthfulness was clear as day to him now—how had none of them noticed it before? Perhaps they had simply chosen not to notice.

Doc Oc dodged the projectile with ease. “Spider-Man, listen to me—”

Peter made a break for it, gunning for the opposite side of the room. He’d hardly made it two uncoordinated strides before three more figures emerged from a door behind the couch, blocking his escape path: Scorpion, Sandman, and Rhino. He skidded to a stop with a gasp.

“Whoa,” Rhino exclaimed, towering over the half-naked hero. “Would you look at that. Tiny spider is alive.”

Shit! Peter screamed internally. He whipped his gaze in every direction and realized he was surrounded.

“He needs to stop moving,” Otto said, knowing there was no way to accomplish that with words. He raised his tentacles above his head, the pincers snapping hungrily. “Grab him.”

Rhino made the first move, reaching out with his meaty hands to snag the kid by the arm. But Spider-Man ducked and rolled out of the way, moving surprisingly fast despite all of his injuries, though it was obvious the exertion was hurting him. Scorpion and Sandman tried next, lunging for his legs, but Peter hopped right over them and flipped backwards, wincing and staggering once his feet hit the floor and banging into the window.

“You’re going to reopen your wounds,” Octavius warned him. He thrust two tentacles at his torso, but Spider-Man flinched out of their grasp. Otto launched the other two arms at him, and Peter skirted between them, springing on to the wall. The exhaustion and terror in his face were evident. Otto felt bad for scaring him so much, but this was for his own good.

“Spider-Man—please,” he groused. His mechanical arms grabbed and snapped at the air, barely missing the slippery little hero every time. “Just—stay—still!”

Peter wasn’t listening to a word he said. All he knew was that he couldn’t let himself be caught. Every inch of him was screaming in agony. When the tentacles pounced on him all at once, Spider-Man shrunk small and dove underneath them, somersaulting past Doc Oc’s legs and popping up behind him. Peter bolted blindly for the double doors, only to ram straight into Rhino’s giant leg and fall flat on his ass. Three metal prongs clamped around his midsection before he could regather himself, pinning him to the floor.

“Agh!” Peter yelped, tugging uselessly at the claw’s strong teeth. “Let me go!”

Otto lifted Spider-Man off the ground. He continued to strain and squirm, kicking his legs and grappling with the mechanical pincers gripping his waist. The rest of the Sinister Six gathered around the frightened hero, forming a circle with him in the middle. He looked so small against the looming backdrop of super villains. His young face beamed with all the emotions his mask typically concealed—most prominently, fear.

“Spider-Man,” Octavius repeated, holding his hands out tentatively. “Calm down.”

“I’ll pass, thanks!” Peter quipped, betrayed by the tremble in his voice.

“Okay, it’s definitely him,” Electro groaned amusedly.

“I know you’re scared,” Doc Oc continued. “And you have every right to be. But if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to injure yourself further.”

“And if I don’t keep moving, you’re going to injure me further!” He thrashed and twisted valiantly, but it was evident he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His movements were slowing down, his attempts to escape growing more and more pathetic. Otto waited for him to burn himself out, crossing his arms against his chest. It didn’t take long.

“Are you quite done now?”

Peter hung his head, breathless and shivery, gripping the prongs around his torso less to try to escape and more to hold himself upright. Perhaps his impromptu acrobatics display hadn’t been his smartest idea. All that leaping and flipping and bouncing around had sapped the last whispers of energy from his bones.

“Ugh…room’s…s-spinning,” he murmured. Otto took that as a “yes.” He held Spider-Man closer and frowned at a red spot on his ribs.

“And now look what you’ve done, you idiot. You’ve torn your stitches. I tried to warn you. Half an hour’s worth of sewing, down the drain because of your recklessness.”

“What are you…what…what’s…?” Spider-Man slurred. He was suddenly seeing double of everything. He dropped his gaze to his midriff and watched two blurry lines of blood slip down his side.

“I sutured you up, and you ruined it,” Octavius explained. Peter slowly lifted his head and wrinkled his brow.

“You…” he said, blinking repeatedly. “What?”

“Told you we gave him brain damage,” Rhino whispered. Peter looked at him over his shoulder, then swept his gaze around the circle, making eye contact with every member of the Sinister Six. They saw him. After all this time, his face was finally exposed to his enemies. No disguise, no secret identity, no mask. He felt so naked without it. Not having a shirt or pants on didn’t help either. Strangely, their expressions lacked their typical thirst for spider blood. It dawned on him that over a minute had passed, and none of them had tried to kill him. And so far, they still weren’t trying.

“I’m…confusion,” he stammered. “What—what’s happening right now?”

It was somewhat amusing to see Spider-Man so delirious and out of his element. Doctor Octopus lowered him to the ground but didn’t let go of his torso. Peter was almost glad he didn’t; he doubted he could stand on his own right now.

“I tended to your wounds while you were unconscious,” Octavius said. “It’s not a perfect patch job, but I did the best I could.”

Peter shook his head slowly, his big, brown Bambi eyes wide and puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

“I also gave you some pain killers, which might be making your head a bit fuzzy.”

“But…why?” he scoffed. “You did this to me. You’re the ones who…beat me up. You love beating me up. You—you hate me. You want me dead. You’ve tried to make me dead a million times.” Peter jolted suddenly, a cramp shooting through his broken leg. If he was on painkillers, they were doing a pretty piss-poor job. Everything hurt and was too confusing to comprehend. He closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands, moaning. “Oh god…I’ve gotta be trapped in some crazy fever dream right now. Or maybe…I’m dead. Am I dead? None of this makes any sense…”

“You’re not dead, Peter,” Otto said, stifling a chuckle.

A shudder rippled through the teenager. He lowered his hands, revealing the colorless face behind them.

“How…how do you know my…?”

Shit, Doc Oc thought. It was a careless slip of the tongue. He had meant to keep his knowledge of Spider-Man’s alter ego a secret so as to not frighten him further, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag.

Peter’s gaze shifted anxiously between the six super villains again. Fresh fear clouded over his glassy eyes, and he went back to squirming against Octavius’ hold.

“Now what are you trying to do?” Otto asked, exasperated.

“G-get the hell out of here,” Peter answered. He yanked at the claw around his torso, grunting with effort. “I know what this is. This is—one of those—hrgg—P-Princess Bride situations, isn’t it?”

The team of villains exchanged bemused glances with each other. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—mmneh—when the bad guys—c-catch Wesley, then heal him—just so the life-sucky torture machine thing is—m-more torturous? That’s what this is, right?” His face was flushing red, and more of his sutures were starting to leach blood.

Scorpion threw up his hands. “What’s the brat trying to say?”

“I think he’s saying we only doctored his wounds so that when we kill him, it’ll be all the more slow and painful,” Electro clarified with a shrug. “Which honestly sounds pretty in character for most of us.”

“See? This guy gets it.” Peter pushed at the prongs with all his might. Even as a half-dead, half-conscious mess, the kid couldn’t stop himself from being a smartass.

“I’m just impressed he made a reference to a movie that came out before he was a concept,” Rhino said. “You know, instead of, like, Finding Nemo?”

Otto could see the strain Spider-Man was putting himself through in his pitiful attempts to escape, so he decided to see what would happen if he succeeded. When Spider-Man shoved at his metal pincers again, he let them snap open. Surprise flashed across Peter’s face as he dropped to the ground and wobbled on his feet, followed by weary triumph.

“Ha! See? T-told you I would…I could…”

He faltered and swayed, staggering backwards. Sandman enlarged his hand and caught him before he could hit the floor. Peter sat limply in his palm, breathing heavy, frail and febrile and injured and exhausted. He looked down at the sand-hand that had stopped him from falling, then back up at the surrounding circle of villains, fear and confusion stinging in the corners of his eyes.

“W-why aren’t you...trying to kill me?”

The room dipped into nervous silence. Spider-Man’s gaze continued to jump between them, searching for answers.

“Why did you treat the wounds you gave me?” he continued weakly. With every word that passed his lips, the shake in his voice increased. “W-what do you want from me? Are you trying to…turn me to the dark side or something?”

Shocker stroked his chin. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea…”

“No,” Sandman answered pointedly, shooting Shocker a sideways glare.

“Then what?” Peter snapped. “What’s going on? Why am I here? Why aren’t I dead yet?” Spider-Man dragged himself back to his feet, grimacing harshly. “T-tell me what you’re planning to do with me, or I’ll—I’ll…”

His scowl dropped suddenly, replaced by a look of panic. His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched.

“Or you’ll what?” Scorpion asked in a mocking tone.

When Peter didn’t answer him, Octavius took a step closer. “Spider-Man? What’s wrong?”

Gradually, the terror in his face gave way to dread. Peter sucked in a gasp and cupped his hand over his mouth.

“I think…I’m gonna puke.”

Otto blinked. “Oh,” he said. That was not the response he was expecting, but it didn’t look like the kid was joking. He lurched forward, stifling a gag, making everyone exclaim and leap back. His pale face hinted a sickly shade of green.

“Oh,” Octavius repeated, animated by a new sense of urgency. He glanced around frantically until he spotted the fern in the corner of the room. He seized it with one of his tentacles, dumped the plant and the soil onto the floor, then slid the empty pot in front of Spider-Man. “Uh, here.”

Peter moaned in defeat before doubling over the pot and retching violently. The Sinister Six turned away in disgust, fighting to keep their own lunches down. There was hardly anything inside him to upchuck in the first place, but his body continued to dry heave for another half-minute. Once the bout passed, Peter was left wheezing and trembling with his head held low. His throat burned and tears were slipping from his eyes faster than he could wipe them away.

“Forgot about the stomach flu,” Electro said, sticking out his tongue. “Blech.”

Peter wanted to ask how the hell they knew he had a stomach bug, among many other things, but he was too fatigued to form words.

Octavius turned back to him squeamishly. The poor kid looked so small, hurt, and sick. It amazed him how quickly his hate for Spider-Man had transformed into a tentative fondness. He felt the need to comfort him somehow, the way adults were supposed to comfort young ones when they weren’t feeling well. But he had no idea how.

Instead, he grabbed a roll of paper towels and a cup of water from the kitchen and placed them both by his side. “Here,” he said awkwardly.

Peter eyed the items and whimpered softly. With miserable, lethargic movements, Peter washed out his mouth and wiped his face, every breath aching in his chest. Shame and fever radiated off him in waves. When he was finished, he just sat there, panting and shivery. Too weak to move.

“I think you ought to lay back down, Spidey,” Sandman said, plucking the hero off the floor between two massive fingers. He returned him to the couch with delicate care, guiding his head to the pillow and draping the blanket over his body.

“No…” Peter mumbled languidly, trying to sit up. When he closed his eyes, he couldn’t get them to open again. “Just…tell me…why…”

Something cold and wet pressed against his forehead, gently pushing him back down. Octavius had grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen and soaked it in ice water. The cool touch against his skin was soothing and unexpectedly soporific. Slowly, his muscles went lax. His tumultuous thoughts faded into sleepy nothingness.

“We will,” Otto lied. “But for now, rest.”

It was almost endearing how quickly Spider-Man drifted back to sleep. Octavius left the towel on his forehead and watched as his breathing eased to a steady rhythm.

“Damn,” Shocker sighed. “Poor kid.”

“We really beat him senseless,” Rhino said.

Electro stood over the slumbering hero with his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side. “Is it just me, or is Spider-Man, like…kind of adorable?”

Scorpion snorted. “Adorable?”

“You know! In that, like, puppy-dog, dumb little kid kind of way. I mean, look at him! Does no one else think so?”

Sandman shrugged, fighting back a smile. “I mean, maybe. Sorta.” His expression gradually hardened, and he looked at Doc Oc. “So…is what you said before true? Is he really, like, an orphan?”

Otto lowered his gaze. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was a toddler, and he was adopted by his aunt and uncle, who became like parents to him. But then his uncle was killed last year, so now it’s just him and his aunt. He hasn’t had a particularly easy life.”

“And we certainly haven’t helped on that front,” Rhino added.

“It’s insane to me that at his age, this is what he chose to do with his powers. If I’d gotten his abilities when I was fifteen and gone through all that loss, I’d have been robbing every store on 5th Avenue.”

Shocker smirked. “I hate to say it, but...he’s kind of a good kid. Even if he is an obnoxious little dumbass.”

Amidst the conversation, Octavius’ face remained stoic, unreadable. He waited a while before clearing his throat. “I…wanted to let you all know. I, um, spoke to Tombstone this morning.”

All eyes turned to him, alarmed.

“He saw footage of us capturing Spider-Man on the news,” he explained. “He’s offering us two million each in exchange for the kid.”

Rhino’s jaw dropped. “Two million dollars? For each of us?”

“Holy shit,” Sandman breathed.

“What the hell?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“And he just wants the kid?” Shocker exclaimed. "That’s it?”

Otto nodded slowly. “Alive, but yes. That’s all he wants.” He swallowed and looked at the floor. “He’s given us until the end of the week to accept his offer.”

Excitement and dismay swept across everyone’s expressions. Each person waited for someone to speak up, for someone else to say no, we can’t. But it was just too tempting a proposition to dismiss out of hand. They could finally be free to do what they wanted. Free to live as they pleased, villainous or otherwise. Free to punish this city the way it had punished them, if they so choose. Turning over the kid was all it would take. One quick transaction. Hand over their nemesis, their sworn enemy, and it was done. They’d be rich.

“What the hell does he plan to do with him?” Sandman whispered uneasily.

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Doc Oc clarified. “I just wanted to make you aware of the opportunity. We can discuss it more later.”

An air of tentative relief settled over the room. Electro puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms against his chest.

“In that case, what are we going to tell him when he wakes up again? That we want to sell him to some psychopath so we can all be millionaires? That we think he’s cute and want to keep him as a pet?”

Doctor Octopus shook his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. He turned back to his team. “I’ll keep monitoring him and re-treat the wounds he opened. I think it’s best we always have a pair of eyes on him to prevent another incident involving the destruction of my art pieces.”

The rest of the Sinister Six agreed, scattering throughout the complex, the proposition weighing heavily on all of their minds. Otto put on some classical music and began mopping the fresh blood off Peter’s torso.

#spiderman #spider-man #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spider-man: far from home #sick fic #marvel #mcu #peter parker #spiderman ffh

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

THE HUNGER OF MY HEART

//PROLOGUE// //PART ONE// PART TWO

PART THREE

For easier reading here’s the link for ao3 (X)

Jamie stepped into the Lallybroch stables and whistled melodically through his teeth. A wide-browed grey horse poked his head out from the corner stall, hitching his ears forward as he blew excitedly through his nostrils.

"Cobhar, ciamar a tha thu?" Said Jamie fondly, firmly patting the long dappled neck of the horse and scratching behind his ears. "Di' ye miss me, my wee laddie?"

Nothing was wee about Cobhar. He was a good-tempered, but spirited 14-hand gelding that had been the first foal that Jamie's father let him care for when he was a lad, still mourning his mother and needing distraction.

Cobhar's big head came down and mouthed affectionately at Jamie's curls then cheeks in greeting, as he always had done, then descended down to his knuckles, eager for the sweet treat he could smell hiding in his palm.

"Och, ye miss being spoilt is all then? Didn'a think of me once while I was gone, di' ye?"

Cobhar huffed impatiently and nudged his head against Jamie's chest, nibbling at the buttons, while swishing his dirt-blonde tail side to side.

"A'right, laddie," Jamie chuckled, patting him again. "Here ye go. No need to knock me over." The stallion's soft velvet lips plucked the whole apple from out his opened palm and devoured it in one loud and juicy crunch.

"Fattening auld Cobhar a'ready, Jamie?"

Jamie grinned ear to ear as he looked aside to see his best friend, and now brother-in-law, Ian, amble up beside him. He was tall and whipcord lean and strong, with an honest, good-natured face about him that had captured his sister, Jenny's heart when they were naught but bairns.

"Ye're one to talk, Ian. My sister didn'a get big as a house on her own, di' she?"

Face a rich blush, Ian laughed and bashfully scratched his nose, crooked from when Jamie broke it years before, having found him and Jenny in the most compromising of ways.

"Still a wee shite, Fraser. And still redder than a roosters arse," said Ian, as he playfully smacked the back of Jamie's head.

As had everyone else in the family since he arrived back home. His uncle's, aunties and brutally by his beloved godfather, Murtagh, for being away from Lallybroch for so long. But the real blackening had come from Jenny, a feat for a pregnant woman who had once been no bigger than his thumb. Thank Christ, he had a skull made of solid stone (though as predicted she had embraced soon after and kissed him more than what was decent for a sister to).

Rubbing the multitude of throbbing black and blue bumps on his head (but after having given Ian a hard punch to his shoulder), Jamie spotted what looked to be an envelope under his brother-in-law's arm.

"Plan on feeling the bills to the white sow, Ian?"

Ian looked at him quizzically before making an "O" with his mouth and pulled the envelope out.

"It came yesterday, before you di'," said Ian, handing it over to Jamie, who curiously flipped it over.

It was a letter actually. He grinned, almost laughing, as it was addressed to James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser and had been tied thoughtfully with twine and a sprig of greenery embedded (accidentally?) in its bow that he brushed a blunt forefinger to.

It was from Claire.

Jamie glanced up to see Ian smirking at him and felt his ears blush hot.

"Ye're damn lucky I saw that before yer sister di'. She'd be holding it up to the light and steaming the seams open."

"She'd do no such thing," Jamie retorted, with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Yer wife would tear it open wi' her teeth and wave it in my face."

"That she would," Ian agreed with a chest shaking chuckle. "But our lass is a bloodhound and will find out sooner than not about the puir lass that ye've set yer heart upon."

The last was said almost in question. A hope that maybe Jamie had found a way to balm his wearied heart, knowing that his travels were not just a simple bout of wanderlust and the outlandish reason why. He had the look of a man now awakened, as if he'd been reborn. Something Ian himself had experienced the day Janet Fraser gave him his first kiss at the tender age of six and had never recovered from.

Nor had his nose.

Jamie met Ian's hazel eyed gaze.

"Her name's Claire," he beamed, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice that rivaled the reverence of a prayer to the creator above. "I met her in London a week ago. Spent every second I could wi' her."

And leaving the woman of his dreams had been like having his heart cleaved in two.

"Then you'll have to write to me," Claire had said, beneath her gates woven green with ivy, having clasped her fingers to his, while her other hand held his arm as if to draw him back to her marvelous world.

"Letters, ye mean?" He gulped, having felt himself sway to her power.

She nodded. "I prefer it. I can't stand the ringing and pinging of a telephone. Will you, Jamie?" Her voice had sounded unsure as if it were indeed possible he could ever refuse her.

"Who do I address it to?" He had smiled, while grazing a tentative thumb to the back of her palm. "The funny house no one can see at the end of nowhere street?"

"You're a smart one." She pulled her hand away to tap his nose but had let her caress linger innocently, cluelessly, down his ginger stubbled cheek as he shivered with desire, wanting to kiss the base of her thumb, count her freckles with his mouth. "Address it to this empty lot and your letter will find me. Just don't be forever."

Jamie had pressed his hand over hers, not knowing if he could ever let her go, feeling his breath stitch tight.

"Then until I see ye again, Sassenach."

She glowed at the name he'd given her the day they'd met. Had told him before it suited her better than even her given one.

Jamie hadn't agreed with that at all and wanted to tell her what Claire was in the Ghàidhlig.

One day he would.

Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart.

Tha gaol agam ort

But apparently a day had been far too long for her.

"I think she's the one," Jamie continued on, in almost startling disbelief as he grinned like the lovesick fool he was. "The one that's been calling for me all these years."

"Christ, man! She's real?!" Ian gripped his shoulder, matching his excitement. "Should we be expecting yer Claire for hogmanay with a wee one of yer own?"

Before Jamie could stutter a heart racing answer to that query, the two were interrupted by Jenny hollering for them.

“D’ye two want yer dinner, or shall I feed it to the dogs!?”

Said dogs, Luke and Elphin, Mars and auld Bran, howled in answer while Jamie groaned at his sister's impeccable timing.

Ian slapped his back though and gave his dearest friend and bràthair an encouraging smile and waggle of his dark brows. "Read the damn letter, man. I'll take care of yer sister. Just remember when yer wean's born to name him after me, aye?"

After watching Ian depart with a wink, Jamie threw a long leg over Cobhar's stall door (shushing the nosey beast with a promise of sugar cubes) and settled himself low in the hay.

After pocketing the bit of green to his breast pocket with a delicate hand, he carefully untied the twine and opened Claire's letter. The sweet fragrance of elderflowers and chamomile kissed the page where a simple request was written that had Jamie hopping over the stall door and running towards Lallybroch, with his pack of dogs yapping at his heels.

My Dear Jamie,

At the end of the week I'll be in Edinburgh.

Join me?

"Are ye ever going to tell me what's in this thing, Sassenach?"

Up and down the winding streets of Edinburgh, past the many sloping buildings and cafes and bitty book shops stacked beside one another, Jamie had been carrying a heavy and ornate wooden chest for Claire as she walked ahead of him, looking for the shop to deliver it to.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and her young apprentice, Elias, beside him, who'd taken quite a shine to the older Scotsman. He too had been tasked with carrying a package. It was strapped to his back, a long leather cylinder that could've held anything from mundane documents to a treasure map. Jamie wasn't sure at all.

"It's not for me to say. Besides it would only worry your dreams."

"That doesna make me feel any better," Jamie murmured, staring warily at what he held in his arms which amused Claire greatly enough to bite her posey lush lips from laughing.

"Then pretend it's a cake box."

Elias snorted, catching Jamie's attention.

"Ye ken what's in this thing don't ye, mo charaid?"

"Aye - I mean yes. But -" Elias flicked his round eyes to his mistress's straight back then cupped his hand to his round cheek. "I'll tell you later. It's downright awful and I nearly lost my -"

"You know I can hear you both? I'm not that old."

"And how old is that?" Jamie asked half teasing, half with genuine curiosity, while Elias pinked, snorting loudly once more.

Claire stopped in her tracks and spun on her heels, cutting a look at the younger lad who quickly cowered behind the much taller man.

"I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria but not the Bonnie Prince. Is that enough for you?" She replied flatly, crossing her arms.

Jamie went a bit bug-eyed, mentally counting the decades since the little Queen's reign. Then his wide mouth twitched.

"And ye say ye're no' a witch?"

Claire rolled her eyes and continued walking but a smile had peeked on her lips that encouraged Jamie to tease her more.

"Ye ken," he began, walking beside her now and shifting the weight of the chest as he did so. "There are auld highland tales that say curls wild as yers are the mark of a Ban-druidh, and that the crows favor them to make their nests."

She tugged at her dark locks and watched as they bounced back on release with utter disdain written on her face.

"They're more of a tumbleweed curse if you ask me," she frowned, making Jamie quickly regret his words.

"I didna mean it that way, Sassenach. Truly. Yer curls are lovely. They're like the ripples in a burn when the rain and leaves fall upon it. Luminous as the sky rich in twilight. And yer eyes, Christ, they're. . ."

Jamie's voice trailed off when he realized they'd stopped walking and had the wide-eyed attention of both Elias and Claire.

As well as everyone else on the street alongside them.

How loudly had he been blabbering?

But then a smile of pure delight broke across Claire's face, reflecting brightly in her eyes, as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, only for another far more impetuous to take its place.

"How has no one snatched up a charmer like you, Jamie?"

One had. A very oblivious one.

Jamie sheepishly shrugged and found unparalleled interest in the engravings of the wooden box he carried as his face blazed the very color of his beating heart. He looked very much like a schoolboy.

Unnoticed by them though was dear Elias, whose sea-grey eyes darted between them both, grinning sweet as pie.

Walking down another street, Claire finally announced they had arrived, and the men, sore footed and muscle strained, sighed in relief.

The shop exterior was hard wood and painted coal black while the door was a dark and flaking green. And written in gold on the long framed window beside the door, Jamie read to himself

THE WITHERED BONE

Potions // Trinkets // Antiques

The Finest Biscuits This Side of the Black Realm

"Biscuits?" Jamie murmured, knotting his brow. "What kind of shop is this? Like yers, Sassenach?"

"Not necessarily," she said, hand hesitant on the brass doorknob. "For one it's in plain sight. But if you want to call anyone a witch the three who own this place would fit the bill. I think they even have a cauldron."

"They do. I saw it with - uh, nevermind," Elias choked at the last, blushing beet red.

Claire arched her brow. "Now Elias -"

"I know, ma'am," he drawled, fiddling with the strap over his chest. "Stay away from Ms. Annalise and keep to your side."

"And Jamie -"

He looked at her smiling wryly. "Ms. Annalise?"

"Shut up," she said, playfully swatting his arm. "You stay at the front of the shop. There's nothing there that can bite your nose off."

Claire then ushered them both through the door.

Inside, it was a cluttered jumble of anything and everything. An elaborate display of lost treasures from Africa to France and most prominently the Jacobite resistance in all its doomed glory. There was an array of vintage costume jewelry, stacked stop tables against the walls and racks of overflowing clothing a group of young girls were pawing through, where one in particular, all flaxen hair and big doe eyes, was swaying to the melancholy chords of a record that crackled softly in the background.

What makes you think love will end?

When you know that my whole life depends

On you

It was a tune Jamie remembered his parents dancing to. His mother had been wrapped in his father's arms as he nuzzled her cheek, softly mouthing the words against her skin. The young girl hummed it too as she gazed dreamily at a dress in her hands.

Overhead hung a simple iron chandelier that seemed to have been ripped straight from a castle's dungeon, dripping hot candle wax to a metal bowl placed on the hardwood floors. One burning drop fell down Jamie's neck as he walked beneath them, that had him cursing underbreath as he scrunched his shoulders and knocked his knee into a table, rattling the knickknacks.

"Ye break it ye buy it, laddie," came a voice from the front of the shop. "I'll take cash and the blood of yer first born."

"Oh, Geilie," said Claire and crossed over to the counter, leaning over the glass display of dirks and sgian dhu (with a cookie jar atop) to kiss a rather wicked to the bone looking redhead's cheek. "You are terrible."

"It wasn'a as if I lied," Geilie snickered, turning her attention first to young Elias who flinched under her unnerving gaze then to Jamie, blatantly raking over his physique before Claire stepped into her view.

"Who's the clumsy stag ye've brought wi' ye, Claire?"

"A friend who I very much like as he is. No twitching your nose or feeding him your biscuits." She then mumbled to Jamie at her shoulder. "Hansel and Gretel, remember?"

"Ye're never any fun," she pouted, then pointed her chin. "Have ye a name, stag?"

"Jamie," he replied simply, not at all trusting the unsettling woman before him with more than that.

"Weel then, Jamie, ye can leave that in the corner there and you," she looked at Elias with a devilish grin as she propped her chin on her hand and drummed her fingers to her cheek. "Louise will be waiting downstairs fer ye, Annalise too. But ye kent that aye?"

While the young lad experienced a sudden shortness of breath, Jamie set the delivery down and rather dumbly asked, "What's downstairs?"

Geilie's eyes shimmered like the feral beast whose blood she probably bathed in, chilling Jamie down to his bones.

"Why? Are ye needin' an ill-wish like the wee lasses over there." She gestured over to the girls taking their leave. "Mebbe something far more entertaining and lethal like a summoning? Those require a blood sacrifice, ken. Nothing so tender as yer sweet lass here wi' her trade of bits and bobs.

She wasn't kidding.

Jamie glanced at the doorway that led downstairs, carved with cabbalistic symbols. A faint whiff of bitter herbs wafted through a pigeon blood red curtain that shadowed it, mingling with a coppery tang he could taste on his tongue, tainting the air. It churned his wame with sick.

"Or are ye wantin' - Oh!" She quickly shot a strange and startled look over to Claire.

"Leave him be, Geilie," Claire chided, unaware of the questions in her sometimes friend's eyes as she threw all her attention on Jamie.

"We'll only be a minute," she assured him with a hand running down his arm, sending a shock of steadying warmth through him that he knew came from someplace bewitching within her. "And don't worry about Geilie, she won't touch a hair on your head when she knows I can shrivel hers like a prune."

Jamie smiled at his own Ban-druidh. Must've whispered it too, to deserve the pinch she gave him before leaving with Elias downstairs to the witch's grisly lair.

"I ken what yer after, mo bhalaich," came Geilie's voice, softly speaking to him as if he were a friend. "I can see it festering in ye like hemlock, yer love fer the Sassenach."

Jamie nervously glanced over to the doorway. "I dinna ken what yer on about, woman."

"Dinna bother hidin' it, no' like she can see it anyhow. She hasn't the heart fer it, ye see. Hers was taken by her old master, the wee frog, who lived in that house of hers before she di'. She hasn'a a clue where it is, doesn'a even ken it's missin', and wi'out it she canna love ye back."

"Why - Why should I believe you?" Jamie asked haltingly, for his throat was being strangled by his heart, ripped from beneath his ribs.

"Why would I lie, ye puir wee fool? Save yerself, getaway, or that love ye carry will swallow ye whole, heart and soul and breath."

Only when she touched the tender spot on his chest did Jamie realize he was bent over the counter a hair's breadth away from the witch, close enough to see the harsh and earnest truth pooling in her eyes.

Then she pushed him away.

"All done," said Claire, coming through the curtain, and cast her gaze between the two in front of her.

"What have you two been doing?" She waved a finger at them both.

"Oh, a little talking is all. Nothing more," grinned Geilie, face a mask of perfect innocence.

Claire hummed, believing otherwise and tried to make light of whatever she saw troubling Jamie's face. "You should know whatever Geilie told you, it's probably only half as bad or twice as worst,"

"Och, I'm sure of it, Sassenach. Shall we go?" Jamie said hurriedly, not meeting her eye. Trying to forget what the witch had said.

She slowly nodded, her face lined with concern, but tucked her slender arm through his and gave Geilie a half-hearted goodbye. Immediately, Jamie felt the blood in his veins flow to his heart now beating in its proper place and air return to his lungs.

But somewhere deep inside himself, Jamie could feel the beginnings of a rotting ache bloom and take root. He was already too far gone.

"You didn't eat the biscuits did you."

He managed a weak chuckle and swallowed. "No lass." But then he swiveled his head. "Where's the wee lad?"

In five seconds flat, Claire had Elias by his arm like a child, his face a burning fever red and eyes bowed to the ground with Ms. Annalise leaning at the doorway, a beguiling smile on her face.

No time is wasted that makes two people friends

THANK YOU to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!!

!!MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Now Author Notes

*First off sorry for all the messy mistakes and eye gouging writing

*Thanks to @soinspiredbyyou/ @mo-nighean-rouge for help with the line tweaking "Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart." Although hers was actually better "Perhaps preceded by a phrase stirring in his heart" but preceded sounded too smart and too good for my dummy words.

*The descriptions of Cobhar are from the book cause I don't know anything about horses.

*The song is Never My Love

*I may come back and fiddle with this chapter but I really wanted to get this done before Christmas.

*Next chapter will be the last

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

lune-hime · 3 years

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 7

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa esperanto ~ A tulip whose flaming petals sprout from a lush green base, signaling growth and the washing away of lingering burdens.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Thank you both for waiting! I’m just about done.” Felicia chimed from the stove as Levi entered the house. The pleasant smell of fried bread and pork mingled with the freshness of the tulips to create a scent he could only describe as being homey.

“We had no choice but to be occupied.” Oma grumbled from the dining room, one of the spaces Levi had yet to explore. He wandered into the kitchen after removing his shoes and observed Felicia’s bustling and extremely organized methodology. The pan bopped to the rhythm of her wrist while the kettle whistled in melodic time.

“It’s a shame we didn’t have time for tea. We’ll do it after we eat, then.” Oma called, leaning on the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room. Levi nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as he awkwardly lingered on the sidelines of the culinary bustle. His languid gaze drifted to the many framed photos that hung on the only wall not covered with ornate gold trinkets or the weaving vines of plants. His eyebrows furrowed as he observed a common theme.

So many of these photos of you were with that hard headed, horse-faced pain in the ass. From what you had told Levi, you had no memory of life without Jean. That he, Oma, and Felicia had been the only constant presences in your life since you were a child. Why did he feel a pang of jealousy? That was a petty emotion.

Oma had placed delicate plaques at the bottom of each frame that accompanied the memory. Levi wouldn’t have pegged her as someone so sentimental.

First Day of Kindergarten

“We’re going to be late, mommy!!” You wailed as your legs jittered like an excited shore bird. Jean stood beside you and rolled his eyes as your anticipation made your connected arms wiggle like a cooked noodle.

“Yes, yes I know. If I could just get this thing-okay, all set, smile big cuties!” Your mother’s gentle voice sang as she clicked the shutter. Jean immediately got over his minor annoyance and the two of you beamed at the camera.

“Lumine, the school bell’s ringing.” Oma chided lightly at her daughter in law.

Levi adored how your wide grin looked too big to be contained by your tiny cheeks.

Noel

“Jean are you even eating in the corps? You look like a twig when you need to be looking like a sturdy branch.” Oma chided as she shuttled more spaetzle onto Jean’s plate. Jean breathed a nervous laugh at her blunt comment.

“Well their food isn’t as good as yours is, Oma.” Jean replied as he gratefully took the plate. You shuffled past the two of them in the busy kitchen to pour yourself a glass of spiced wine.

“Get on my level, noodle-boy.” You teased, bringing your free arm up and flexing your defined muscles as the other held the ladle of wine. Jean threw an arm around your shoulder and squeezed, demonstrating that his noodle arms held more power than they let on.

Felicia had clicked the shutter just as laughter bloomed on your faces and your glass looked dangerously close to spilling over in festive happiness.

Apple Picking

“Freyr, move a little over to the left.” Oma instructed her son. Freyr took a step sideways and bounced, causing you to fly upwards in glee from your resting place on his shoulders. You grasped the sides of his chin as you both grinned at the camera. Crows flew from the canopy of the lush apple orchard behind you.

Levi drank in the features of your father as if he was studying a work of art. He was very tall, strongly built, and had a charisma about him that Levi wagered is why he was so popular in the capital. He resembled more of a lumberjack than a government official. His jawline was hard, like it was curvetted by a steel knife. But his eyes held a softness just like your own.

When Levi’s eyes drifted to the last photo in the row, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He gulped as he let the contents of the picturesque scene sink in. The four individuals looked lively and ecstatic as they proudly showed off their record breaking salmon catch. Your father, Freyr, stood on the far right holding the fish’s head with a confident smirk. You, having to be around 12, stood next to him inwards. Your weak grip was feigning your support of the giant creature’s weight. To the far left your uncle Rall stood perched with the tail held to his chest as he wore a more modest smile than his brother-in-law. Levi felt his arteries clench around his throbbing heart when he gazed upon the girl only a few years older than you at your side. The sweetness of her expression poured icy flames onto Levi’s conscience.

Petra and Y/N’s Catch

Levi felt as if he were the fish in your hands; milky eyed and cold scaled. He was momentarily sent spiraling into his guilt.

“Jean has grown quite handsome now hasn’t he...” Felicia chirped. Levi blinked at the proximity of her bubbly comment as it punched him from his daze. She appeared at his side with their shoulders centimeters from touching.

“You’ve always liked younger men, haven't you?” Oma snickered as she rummaged through the cupboard.

“Hey! I’m not that old Frau Vogel.” Felicia justified with a playful pout. She turned on her heels to grab the dishes from Oma’s hold but was gently slapped away by the determined old woman.

“Yes but you’ve known the boy since he was fresh out of diapers.” Oma quipped back. “Now if you’re done viewing the art gallery of my life, we have dinner to eat.”

The dining room seemed to glow amber. The walls were dressed with a deep cherry wood, carved with grand scenes of folklore that Levi wasn’t familiar with. The table and chairs were no less intricately carved and were birthed of that same rich wood. The table was fit for a family of high standing, its length providing the space to entertain many guests.

Felicia had set the table so that the three of you were sitting close together, leaving a vast empty space for ghosts to join. Levi wondered what kinds of people used to sit there. He let his mind be tempted with that notion as he gradually checked out of the conversation.

If she used to sit there.

After their meal, Levi was left with that satisfactory warmth he felt the day before. He gave his shoulder a good stretch when Oma returned from clearing the dishes.

“How about sitting down with an old woman for tea now?” She said with a small smile.

“Sure.” Levi responded softly. Oma hummed and faded back into the kitchen.

“Felicia went to go check on Y/N and insisted on doing housework.” Oma explained as she gathered the tea time materials.

“So we have a bit of peace-and-quiet time.” She added as she placed two cups of beautiful ivory china on the tea tray next to the tin of Queen Mary leaves.

Oma led the way to the living room which, to his fading surprise, was just as intricately decorated as the rest of the house. Arched windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling displayed the forest to the back of the estate while a grand fireplace framed with pale brick lay in front of the opposite wall. Artwork, photos, and momentos painted all the walls to give it a cozy atmosphere that Levi was still getting used to. Oma placed the tea tray on the coffee table and sat down on one of the long, plush settees. She patted the cushion and Levi joined her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

An arid silence passed by them as Oma delicately poured the tea into each cup. He was hyper aware now of his past choice during that expedition. Whether it was a mistake or not. He was painfully cognizant of his absence. Sure Levi was curt, at times off putting, and cautiously intense with people. But his immense guilt for what happened to his squad was an underlying and consistent fuel for his awkwardness around your grandmother. It remained attached to him like a fifth limb, a presence that was always lurking even at the smallest intensities. Your love helped, eventually filling the gaping hole that had been carved there. But a hole is still a hole, forever a crevasse that would be a permanent addition to his soul.

He was deeply afraid to bring it up. Afraid of digging into old wounds, afraid of facing more of her family, afraid that your grandmother would deem him unfit to protect you. To call it an elephant in the room was a severe understatement. The unspoken truth was more the size of a beached whale. He had stopped seeing their ghosts in his own shadow. But even now seeing the familial resemblance of her in Oma he suddenly couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

“I don’t blame you, Levi.” She said as softly as the clank of the teapot returning to the tray. Levi’s insides seized but he maintained his composure. She leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. When she craned her head to meet his eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the lone tea cup on the tray.

“For Petra.” Her name fell off Oma’s lips with a delicateness that made Levi’s throat itch with impending shame. “I saw you looking at her photo.”

The itch expanded to an inflation that embedded his incoming breath into the folds of his esophagus.

↞♞♘↠

Your body shivered in the remnants of your hysterical cries. You wished the sadness could have been swept up in the powerful current of your tears but it clung to you like a jagged rock resting just under the rippling water’s surface. Her absence felt like a vital organ had been forcibly taken from your body and the thief hadn’t bothered to stitch you up properly.

“Levi-” You breathed, voice heavy with the aftermath of your latest breakdown. It felt like a tiring journey from the empty bedroom to his office.

Earlier you had held each other, wept with one another, and began grieving together. But as the hours grew on Levi had drawn more reclusive. He had evicted himself from the bed in your fatigue and had resigned to his office chair. The form that occupied the space you almost didn't recognize. He sat deeply reclined in the chair and allowed the material to swallow him. His head dangled limply off his right shoulder, clouded eyes looking at nothing and everything at once. The only sign of vitality in this lifeless shell was the small puffs of air that left his nose.

It was fresh. Painfully fresh. Like a band aid that had ripped off multiple layers of skin. But you needed him right now and you knew he needed you too. The sudden loss of Petra was boring into you. You couldn’t imagine that loss times three that he was experiencing.

“Please we need to talk.” You whimpered as you slowly padded towards his crumpled stature. His swollen eyes and bloodshot whites betrayed his marbled features. He was hesitant to reach for you, to hold you, to touch you. He was sure a part of you must have despised him. Through his own pulsations of pain he could see your own distress. He desperately wanted to be there for you, to wipe away all that ailed you. But how could he do that when he couldn’t even wipe the pain from himself? Especially when he had a hand in inflicting such devastation onto you.

He could never forgive himself for that. For what he did to any of you.

Yet when you unfurled his limbs, climbed into his lap, and encircled yourself into his embrace he exhaled and held you right back.

“Don’t hide from me.” You said with an insatiable quiver. You felt Levi’s arms loosen and begin to pull away as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.

“Please...don’t.” You pleaded, desperate for his comfort. You quickly grabbed his wrists and placed them back along your spine. Levi breathed in frustration but didn’t move to withdraw himself again.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring them back.” He stated with a hopeless gravel.

“I know.” You replied weakly. Levi’s shoulder tingled with fresh tears. He squeezed his eyes shut in self disdain when he began to feel your shaking.

“You must deteste me.” He hummed dryly as the obsessive images of his fallen squad drew more tears from him once more. Each time he thought he was done crying their lifeless bodies bombarded him with more waterworks.

“Levi-” You cried as a sob raked your body.

“How could you even stand to be around me after what I did?” Levi bitterly pushed out as he tasted the salty flow of droplets.

“Shut up!” You coughed, sitting straight up in his lap to look him in the eyes. Your emotions were short circuiting and your patience was running thin for his blame but you hadn’t intended for your reply to come out so aggressive.

Your hands pushed down on his chest as your eyes fluttered shut. You took a moment to take in a deep, albeit ragged, breath. When your eyes opened Levi was fixated on the floor. You grasped his head between your hands and rectified his deflated body.

Your movement forced him to look at you, the two of you exchanging expressions beaten-down by sadness and frustration.

Thinking of the words you were about to formulate spurred more pressure behind your eyes before you articulated them. What was left of Levi's composure fractured as he began to drown in your sorrowful orbs.

You brushed his cheek to keep the both of you from floating away like paper lanterns. You could have lost each other out there today as well as your many comrades and the smoothness of his skin against your thumb kept you in this reality.

This was not the time for conversation, you had already had that. Already had assured him that their passing wasn’t his fault. That, sure if he was there maybe things would have been different but that his actions didn’t dictate their deaths. Telling him again would only be beating a dead horse and cause you both more anguish. The two of you were too weak for that right now.

“You trust me.” You uttered those words as a statement without a hint of question.

Levi nodded instantly. The motion was anamatronic-esque as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I’m here.” You stated softly, taking his hand and placing it directly over your overworked heart. A wave of calm washed over him as he watched his palm move with the deep rhythm of your breathing.

“You’re here.” You continued with a sniffle. You placed your hand on his chest, sighing in comfort as he breathed life into your palm.

“And if we focus on the what if’s we’re going to be hopeless forever.” You spoke the words with vulnerability that betrayed their prowess.

That shattered him.

You watched as his face scrunched with all the emotion he had hid this morning. His brow sloped into his quivering lip and he let out a helpless yelp. He was always trying to not feel. But he could only feign numbness until it embedded itself into everything he did. The void he was carrying now overflowed with singeing emotion that he needed to feel.

For them.

For you.

For himself.

Seeing him so broken caused you to crack too. But for Levi, the gruesome scenes that were replaying on a brutal loop were dulled by the warmth of your hand on his chest, the welcome pressure of your thighs against his, and perhaps the most by your beautiful eyes that despite being ravaged by tears were like a shining beacon in the turbulent storm.

He removed your hand from his chest and took them into his own. He raised your hands to his lips and pressed salted kisses to them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He croaked and intertwined his fingers with yours with such a force that his knuckles grew white. He begged for your forgiveness, bathed in your light to douse his sinful acts. For you must have been a saint to not have casted him out by now.

He kept apologizing because there was nothing else he could do. He lamented that he wasn’t quick enough. That their last moments were spent in agony and terror. That their deaths not only affected him but you as well.

Your limbs were entangled and foreheads were buried in shoulders for an uncountable amount of time. The two of you slowly dragged one another out of the suffocating mud of the expedition and into the present moment. When tears had dried and embraces grown less feverous, you spoke up.

“Erwin is allowing me to go home for a few days.” You announced with a sad smile.

Levi hummed weakly as he ghosted his fingers along your scalp.

“Do you want to come with me?” Your invite hung on the air as Levi contemplated. He felt bad denying you but there was no way he would be able to face your family right now. That may have been selfish of him, but he just couldn’t.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you craned your neck to regard him. You understood his silence and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Okay.” You kissed at the spot where his neck met his collarbone.

↞♞♘↠

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Was all that Levi could manage to say. He didn’t know how to make any apology enough for her grandchild’s absence. He felt disgust rise like bile in this throat all over again.

Oma nodded at his condolences and hid her lingering sadness behind seasoned professionalism.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to you too. You lost her just like the rest of us.” She responded with a mature kindness that made Levi want to poke his eyes out with self-loathing. If the loss hurt him beyond belief, he would never be able to know the extent of Oma’s pain, your pain, and Petra’s parents’ pain.

“I can see that you blame yourself.” Oma inferred with a caring tone. Levi’s hardened gaze remained on the table.

“I know what it’s like to lead a squadron. I know the helpless feeling of someone slipping through your fingers too quickly to catch them.” Oma consoled with a genuine seriousness that made Levi’s eyes flick up to hers. She sighed and placed her tea cup down.

Levi didn’t move as she scooched closer to place a hand over his. His fingers twitched at the calloused pads of her withered hand encircled his.

“It was one year into my promotion to a unit captain. I remember that day so vividly; the bitter smell of the canon smoke mixing with Hannes’ ripe gin, the way the wind gently rocked the trees just over wall Maria, the remnants of my throbbing hangover from the previous night’s excursions."

“I had ordered my unit to scale along the wall and raise the new cannons that had been provided the day prior while I joined Pixis at the guard post. We were having our daily banter when a thunderous quaking assaulted our ears and gave us whiplash with how fast we turned towards the wall. A hoard of titans, many of them abnormals, were rushing towards Wall Maria.”

“We had never experienced an attack so fierce, so alarmingly abrupt. My legs couldn’t carry me quickly enough to my unit before the fuckers started hurling themselves at the wall. The clash of skulls against the structure was deafening. Some of my soldiers decided to ascend, to fight them atop the wall and blast their brains out with the cannons. Others decided to take their chances at slashing their necks. However, the ladder couldn’t compete with the assault and soon their screams morphed into stains on stone.”

“After the attack, I too bashed my skull with guilt and regret. If only I had just waited to assign them to that job. What if instead, I told them to take care of the already positioned cannons. But would it have really made any difference? I’ve come to realize I couldn’t have ever anticipated a horror like that.” Oma’s eyes glazed over in sour memory.

“My point is, you can’t dwell on the what-ifs because that’s not how life went or ever will. You have to live with what life gives-and takes-from you.” Oma continued, holding Levi’s stare with one elderly compassion.

“You led them and inspired them to take action. Their sacrifices were just that; sacrifices they were willing to take for something they believed in.”

As she spoke, acute darts dripped in his squad’s long dried blood threatened to pierce the shield he had built up to their intrusions. But her kind words warded them off almost immediately and Levi felt more relieved than he could ever express to hear her sympathy.

“I’m sure you know it never truly goes away. But forgiving yourself for something that was out of your control dulls the sharpness of that blade.” She smiled flatly with soft eyes.

Listening to her story and feeling her presence sparked an understanding in Levi so deep that it felt foreign to him. It wasn’t the surface level sympathy usually set unto him by his comrades. Nor the solace and empathy you provided him. With Oma it was raw, unaltered. She had seemed to mine his soul and recover a luminous diamond out of the charcoal.

She brewed this sensation within him that peeled away the murky veil of his role of a steely captain. Underneath resided a more youthful soldier who still had much to conquer and learn. He realized he wasn’t actually as aged as he was required to act.

The hectic scenarios that had wracked his mind since he arrived at her doorstep were blown away with the gentle breath of her rapport. He squeezed her hand, instantly feeling her squeeze back.

“Thank you. That...means a lot.” He said as the ice on his brow melted. Oma grinned at his instant brightness, clearly pleased that she had managed to crack through his shell.

“What is it?” She asked with a wispy chuckle as she observed Levi’s minute crescent smile.

“Y/N gave me similar advice after it happened.” He confessed, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“Well, good. Means I raised her well.” Oma smirked fondly. She let go of his hand to uptake her tea cup once again.

“I would never let anything happen to Y/N.” Levi professed as he finally grabbed his tea as well. His grip tightened on his cup as if holding it sturdily cemented his promise. Oma’s grin widened at his dedication as they locked eyes once more.

“We are all responsible for ourselves, and all we can do for others is try our best to protect them. You have done just that, son.” She said after a hearty swig of her drink.

“You’ve been so good to both my girls, whether you see it or not. That’s all I could ever dream of in a superior officer, a friend, and a partner.”

Her heartwarming comment did exactly that to Levi. Except instead of blanketing him with a gentle heat it burned his chest all at once. The fire was so powerful that Levi couldn’t subdue the genuine smile that infiltrated his features. It widened his cheeks and parted his chapped lips in a beautiful display of appreciation.

Oma’s eyes widened and she coughed as her sip of tea almost slid down the wrong pipe.

“It’s a shame Y/N only gets to see those smiles.” Her wheeze was followed by a cackle. Her teasing made him roll his eyes but his smile didn’t diminish.

“Don’t tell her or she’ll think I’ve gone soft.” He chuckled himself as rich as the umber liquid in his cup. Oma winked as she took another sip.

“You know, I would have liked to have met you at Petra’s funeral but there wasn’t one. Her mother insisted on keeping things private.” Oma explained with a long exhale. Levi did recall you talking to him about that. Petra’s parents lived quite a distance away from you and Oma and became more private as the two of you grew up.

Levi nodded and pursed his lips. He definitely wouldn’t have been in the right mental space for that. Oma noted his silence and as if afraid he was going to creep back into his iron guard, sighed in contentment.

“I was so proud that she joined your squad.” She was basked in a lovely nostalgic glow as she mused.

“She looked delicate and slight but Petra had a fire in her like I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

“She did.” Levi agreed. His eyes fell to the fireplace as he traced his finger along the ivory rim of his cup. “She was one of the most skilled soldiers I’ve known.”

Oma hummed in agreement.

“Petra spoke so highly of you, you were truly her role model. She was ecstatic when you and Y/N got together. Couldn’t think of a better person for her little cousin.” Oma praised with the enthusiasm of a proud relative.

Levi let out an awkward huff and shook his head lightly as he brought his cup to his lips.

“You know she’s the reason Y/N wanted to join the corps?”

↞♞♘↠

The sun hung low in the sky when Levi’s squad found themselves lazily lounging at one of the picnic tables that framed the sparring area.

“The cadets are going to arrive next week.” Gunther commented idly.

“Yes! My younger cousin is going to be joining the 104th class.” Petra beamed, clearly proud of her relative.

“Another cadet with your same beautiful genes? I can’t wait.” Oluo winked and Petra pursed her lips in unamusement.

“Keep it in your pants, Oluo. Or are you hitting on girls you haven’t even met yet?” Eld chided with a smirk.

“How do you feel about her joining, Petra?” Eld asked more seriously.

“While I’m a bit bittersweet about it, I couldn’t think of another person more capable to be a new recruit.” Petra smiled sadly yet her eyes held excitement at being reunited with her kin.

“Hm, seems like the military runs in your family.” Levi commented, rolling his head against his shoulders to offer a loud crack.

“Yeah, Oma hated it when I joined so I bet she despised it when Y/N decided to fly the nest too.” Petra giggled with the lightness of a sparrow taking flight. A boisterous boom followed by an aggressive order caused the party to direct their attention to the arena.

“And so the hellscape is raised once again.” Gunther nodded to where Shadis was noisily instructing soldiers on where to place the cadet training equipment.

“The stick that’s within his ass imbeds itself deeper each year.” Eld yawned and stretched.

“I’ll be there to fight for her if he takes it too far.” Petra boasted in determination. Her declaration was fiery but her delicate features softened the promise. The special operations squad knew all too well, though, not to underestimate the strength that resided under that cute exterior.

“Hazing is part of the cadet experience.” Gunther shrugged.

“Need to get the nerves burning hot somehow.” Eld added.

“Oh come on, you guys are horrible!” Petra huffed.

“I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of-” Oluo passionately interjected.

“That’s not necessary.” Petra cut him off with a jab to the ribs.

“You’ll back me up, right Levi?” She looked to their captain expectantly while Oluo's groans grew in pitch.

Levi shrugged in indifference. However the way Petra’s eyes glinted with eagerness made him more inclined to agree.

“If she’s not a brat.”

Petra threw him a pout as the crew’s light-hearted jokes floated up to meet the chromatic tendrils of the evening sky.

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #AoT #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin #levi/reader #hange zoe #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 4 years

Text

absolution, a oneshot

Yeah, not my usual content, but I wrote this a while ago and I figured it was short enough that I crosspost it from Ao3 to tumblr. ‘Twas inspired by a Dead Apple prompt on the Chaos Cult Discord server: What if when Dazai died (for a little bit ofc) he got to see Oda again one last time and Oda got to see who Dazai became? -- -- -- --

In the top floor of a tall, abandoned building, there are three figures all wearing white in some strange facsimile of purity and innocence. Innocence, for these three, is as far away a dream (a nightmare?) as flight is for a dog. They exist somewhere out of time, displaced entirely.

The demon, the sinner, and a corpse. The demon is smiling as he fingers the knife in his pocket, hidden from view. He knows that his plans are unlikely to bear any fruit, but he bites from the apple of knowledge anyway and revels in the taste. He is God, after all. What was forbidden for Adam and Eve is his to create and his to take.

The sinner looks on with a cold, dead gaze, because he is not surprised. He is never surprised. The world ticks on, every second that passes takes him closer to his story’s inevitable conclusion. Perhaps he has forgotten where he came from, but he could never forget where he is going. After all, he lives on borrowed time.

How funny that the man who considered himself least human, of the three, is the one with the most humanity.

“How could you?” Dazai asks, his eyes starting to close, but the question is entirely rhetorical. He has expected this ever since he made his last move, sitting in a bar surrounded by ghosts. His plans are out of his hands now, and it’s not up to him anymore. All he can do is trust, but if he dies here, it will have been worth it.

Odasaku, was I a good man?

The roaring in his ears is getting louder but he can barely feel the knife in his back. The floor presses into his cheek, and it’s as cold and unforgiving as the darkness that sweeps over him. He murmurs what he knows might be his last words.

“This feels great.”

He is smiling.

—

Dazai is sitting in a dimly lit bar. The amber paneling of the walls are dusty and scarred, but in the end, it contributes to the overall aesthetic. The bartender is in the corner as he usually is, wiping absently at a glass in his hand. The air is dry and still.

He looks at the clock on the wall. The time is 10:32, and the hands of the clock are not moving. He realizes that he’s wearing his tan coat, and the bandages wrapped around his wrists are a familiar comfort. Something about this feels wrong. Shouldn’t he be in white?

What an odd thought. He never wears white. He’s at the Bar Lupin, so he should be in black. Why isn’t he in black, and why has the clock stopped ticking?

“Dazai.”

He whips his head around to the right, and his eyes widen. “Odasaku,” he says, smiling. His colleague is sitting a couple stools away from him, wearing his usual beige blazer and dark button down. He has a glass of whiskey in his hand and he swirls it gently. He takes a sip.

There is a matching glass of whiskey in front of him, Dazai realizes. Has it always been there? He feels slow and stupid, as if his brain is moving through molasses. It’s an uncomfortable thought. “Ango’s late,” he finds himself saying, and Odasaku sets his drink down. He stares at something far away.

“Ango’s not coming.”

The words echo strangely in Dazai’s ears, and he lifts his glass of whiskey. The light refracting through the amber and the cut glass casts liquid shadows on the bar top. “I see,” he says, though he really doesn’t. He wants to ask why Ango isn’t coming, and why the clock has stopped ticking, and where his black coat has gone. But something stops him, and there is an odd feeling rising in his chest. His mouth suddenly tastes like fear. He puts his glass down, the bottom of the glass making a hollow noise against the bar.

Instead of asking any of the questions on his tongue, he makes a humming noise and drums his fingers against the bar. His fingertips make small pattering noises against the wood.

His hand is covered in blood.

No, it isn’t. Dazai blinks down at his hand, and it looks normal again. He turns to Odasaku, who is sipping at his whiskey. “Where’s Ango?” he asks finally, and while Odasaku’s face doesn’t change, he imagines that something in it becomes sadder. “I figured you’d ask that,” he says, and Dazai turns toward him.

“The clock,” he says. “The clock and my coat and Ango.”

Odasaku nods. For a moment, he isn’t wearing his usual work uniform. Instead, he has his pistol holsters hanging empty at his sides. There is blood on his clothes, and somehow, Dazai knows it’s his own.

“You remember, don’t you?” he asks, and Dazai does. His hand fists uselessly on the bar top, and he looks away. There is a well of directionless fury inside of him and he does not know what to do with it. “I remember,” he replies. Something makes him open his mouth again. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he can’t remember the last time he said that to anyone. But hasn’t Odasaku seen the worst of him already?

He remembers stained glass, a sunset, and a deep river of loss to drown in.

“Don’t be,” says Odasaku, and Dazai lifts his head to look at his coworker—no, his friend—in surprise. He is smiling, quiet and fond. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“You died,” Dazai says, and it takes all of his considerable willpower to keep his voice from shaking. He feels eighteen again, irresponsibly young and so, so stupid. Stupid enough to believe that Odasaku would be spared. That the optimal solution Mori found didn’t involve getting rid of an annoying mafia member, one with something as foolish as principles. His hands are covered in Oda’s blood because Dazai should have protected him.

“So did you,” Odasaku points out mildly, and suddenly Dazai remembers why he should be wearing white.

His hand twitches. He wants to grab at his back, pull out the knife whose ghost he can still feel, but it’s a phantom pain. Here, in the bar with its dim lighting and still air, there is no fruit knife. There is no demon with flashing eyes. There is no Tatsuhiko Shibusawa, whose pain and misery can be felt just by occupying the same room as him.

There is only the bartender, Odasaku, and himself.

He takes a sip of his whiskey to give his hands and mouth something to do. He hates the taste and the burn of the alcohol as it goes down, hates the feeling of glass between his teeth. It’s why he’s always refused to drink anything he ordered when he went out drinking with Ango and Odasaku. That, and alcohol makes him slow.

Back then, he couldn’t afford to be slow. He can’t even afford to be slow now, but something about this place forces stillness upon him. The bar calms his ever-whirring mind and beating heart, as quick as the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, to something more normal. More human.

Dazai hates the irony.

“Did I fail, then?” he asks, turning to Odasaku. “Has Yokohama burned to the ground?”

Odasaku takes another sip and makes a negative sound. “Not yet, at least,” he adds, and the revelation causes panic to rise inside him.

“Then what am I doing here?” he demands, and he’d forgotten how grating it is to be the petitioner. Dazai doesn’t make a habit of being the one asking, instead of the one answering. The loss of control is almost enough to make him shatter his whiskey glass. He can’t remember the last time he had let himself just be carried along by the currents of someone else’s agenda.

No, he could. A reminder of the consequences was sitting two seats down from him, drinking his whiskey as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re dead,” Odasaku reminds him, and something in his face softens. “For now, anyway.”

Dazai nods. While he had suspected as much, there had been enough uncertainty to throw his entire thought process into disarray. With that out of the way, the storm inside him quieted momentarily.

“Nakahara-san, was it?” Odasaku murmurs. “He’ll come through.”

Dazai smiles a little. “He always does,” he says, and Odasaku smiles back at him.

The two of them sip at their whiskey in companionable silence. It’s almost comforting until, after what could have been minutes or hours, Dazai feels a tug. As if a small child has latched onto the hem of his coat and is pulling at it to get his attention. He looks down, but there is nobody there.

“Your time’s up, Dazai,” says Odasaku, and the simple phrase hits him with the force of a sledgehammer. He lifts his head to look at his friend, and Odasaku is still smiling. It’s not even a sad smile, like Dazai expected. Is that...pride?

“I do check on you, every now and again,” Odasaku admits. “Because I’m curious, and it can get boring here.”

Dazai can’t speak around the lump in his throat, and he doesn’t even try. Odasaku gets up from his stool and walks over, hands in his pockets, before reaching out. He ruffles Dazai’s hair. “The answer to your question,” Odasaku says, “is yes.”

That single word is absolution and penitence and everything he has been running towards since he threw off his black coat. Dazai opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he is ripped away from the bar and back to the living world with a punch to the jaw that sends him reeling. He is wearing white, and he is floating. Above him, Chuuya floats with his fist outstretched and a savage snarl twisting his face. Part of him is disappointed, and the other part of him is relieved.

He can still feel the wound in his back, which throbs with every passing second, but he also sees the droplets of blood hanging suspended in the air like tears. He lifts up a hand then, even though it hurts, and touches Chuuya’s cheek. The activation of his ability feels like a cool wind rushing through him.

“You used Corruption, believing in me?” he asks, though it’s a herculean effort to speak. His tongue feels like lead and his head is still spinning from being yanked unceremoniously back to consciousness. But he has enough energy to smile wryly and say, “How beautiful.”

“Yeah, I did,” says Chuuya, as blunt as he always is. “I believed in your disgusting vitality and craftiness.”

The words sting a little, but it’s nothing more than he deserves. It is, after all, his disgusting vitality and craftiness that keeps him from drinking whiskey with Odasaku, in a bar removed from time. The thought doesn’t depress him like it should.

Because it will annoy Chuuya, he widens his smile. “That was a somewhat violent way of waking Snow White.”

There is violence in the tension of Chuuya’s shoulders and his narrowed eyes, but he just used Corruption. Dazai figures he can barely speak in his current state, let alone move. His jaw throbs anyway, because Chuuya hadn’t pulled his last punch at all.

When he gets to the ground, with Chuuya collapsed on his thigh, Dazai allows himself to close his eyes for slightly longer than a blink. He leans against the rubble and tilts his head up to the sky. His hand is on Chuuya’s head, fingers resting lightly on his hair. He’s exhausted, but he cards his fingers gently through Chuuya’s hair anyway.

“Ne, Odasaku,” he murmurs, and fancies that wherever he is, his friend can hear him. “You were right. You always were.”

With his face still tipped up to the sky and fingers still combing through Chuuya’s hair, he smiles. “I even forgot to say thank you.”

—

“Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, become a good man. Save the weak, and protect the orphans. Neither good nor evil means much to you, I know…but that'd make you at least a little bit better…”

“How do you know?”

“Of course I know. I know better than anyone. Because…I am your friend.”

-- -- -- -- A link if you want to join the server: https://discord.gg/wGfPdaV

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han-shinsuke · 3 years

Text

Nanami Kento x You x Gojo Satoru

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

warning: 18+, manipulation, overstimulation,

///

Your face is red while staring at his sharp jaw down to his throbbing adam's apple as he carefully maneuver the car backwards. You told the man in his 40's that you'll be fine sitting at the backseat but he insisted you to sit on the passenger's seat because people might mistook him for a personal driver. You timidly smiled at him moments ago when he helped you got inside his car. At this hour, you two are heading to the nearest motel after grabbing some meals on the way back to his ranch. Nanami has been driving for five hours straight now after picking you up at the airport. He's your forty three years old boyfriend you met a year ago in an online platform and since then, you've been dying to see him. You're already twenty six years old so your parents allowed you to meet him for the first time. Now, you are certain that he's tired and he needed some rest to continue driving. Nanami drives for another hour before stopping in front of an old tudor mansion along the way. You questioned him for pulling over and he said it was his friend's house and you two can rest there for the time being. He opens the door on your side, hand waiting to help you go down from the car. At the huge porch, a tall man with glowing cerulean eyes stands on the front door, smiling. He welcomes you in his home and you noticed that he's a touchy type of person when he squeezed your neck and shoulder softly.

"Bedroom is ready, Nanami," the man named Gojo Satoru says, smiling.

Your boyfriend nodded at him before leading you upstairs, up to the bedroom the man downstairs had mentioned. Nanami squander no time and immediately pulls you in for a rough and noisy kiss once you two stepped inside the room. You can feel his hunger for you with the way his lips and tongue glides on yours. You let out a throaty groan when Nanami tug your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Nan–Nanami!" his teeth grazing against the width of your lip when you called his name.

"fxck! I'm gonna rail you so bad honey!" he says while snatching your thin summer dress away from your body.

Nanami, too, is in a hurry when he removed his own clothes and then, he knocks you down on the edge of the bed, splaying your legs straight as he looks straight on your rosy womanhood that for a fact is still untouched. You lift your head a little and stare directly at Nanami's eyes fixed on your cunt. You won't deny it, the view makes you shivers. Your head dropped on the soft mattress when Nanami licks your slit with pressure, making your cunt's crevice to open, almost revealing the tiny and pinkish bud between the gash.

"Aaahhh~ Nanamiii~" You moaned his name when he repeated the action but this time, he was using his two fingers to separate your soft folds as he licks you there, coating your flesh with his saliva.

"Shxt, Nanami!" You cursed, feeling Nanami's fore finger poking your barricaded entrance.

"Still a virgin eh? Want daddy's cxck to break this wall?" His voice is alluringly good in your ears so you nodded in response to his. You felt him smirk on your now dripping hole when he french kiss you there for minutes.

Unnoticed, you didn't realized you are groping your own breast and alternately pinching your nipple while your other hand is on your clit, rubbing there hard while Nanami is still devouring your pusxy.

"Nanamiii aaaahhh~ your tongue feels so good~" You have no idea how your simple moans and praises arouses his pulsating libido. Nanami is getting impatient! He wants to break you so bad that it could make you feel so good at the same time but he must wait for his cue. He has a signed agreement with his sorcerer friend.

"fuxk honey! you're dripping nonstop!" Nanami says between his licks and kisses.

"Pleaseee aaahhh! Nanamiii! Wreck me hard and deep~" Such dirty pleas! You thought!

For one moment, you feel you heart stops when you looked down. There are now two naked men kneeling on the floor. Nanami holding your right leg while the other is being held by Gojo Satoru! Your mind and body started panicking due to unknown lips and tongue licking and nibbling your legs up to your thigh.

"Wh–what are you doing, Go–Gojo aaah!" You can't let this happen! You are not sharing your private moments with a stranger! "Stop!" You tried to pull your leg from him but Gojo and Nanami hold you still.

"Relax honey, we'll take good care of you," Nanami says, arms in sync with Gojo's in pleasuring your two holes down there.

Your back arching, fingers fisting on the bed sheet as the two men increases their speed. Nanami's lapping your folds, Gojo's biting your skin.

"I'm not your girl, Mr. Satoru aah!"

"Earlier you aren't but since you're inside my territory, that only means you are mine now too."

With that, Gojo Satoru pulled Nanami on his feet and communicates through their eyes.

"We need to be gentle, she's a virgin." Nanami informed his friend and the latter can help but grin devilishly upon hearing it from him.

Gojo climbs on the bed, positioning his body behind Nanami's girl. He lifted you from the mattress to place your naked body on top of him as he lays his lower body firmly, his back against the cushioned headboard. You are in doubt and still against the idea of being fuxked up by two men at the same time but Nanami's eyes are pleading, ensuring a good spot in heaven if you only let them toy with your body.

"Nanami," your voice comes out like a whisper. Gojo Satoru locked you with his huge frame. Your boyfriend had his eyes fixated on your face. You watched him walk towards near a cabinet and from there, he took out a navy blue eyes cover and a bottle of oil. Your breath hitched in your throat. Are they planning to go hard and rough on you? Ah, you cannot imagine yourself being pounded by these two.

Nanami joins you and Gojo on the bed, shushing your upcoming protests by pecking a soft kiss from your lips.

"Don't be scared honey, I'm here," Nanami put the blindfold on your eyes, kissing you slowly while he's wrapping the cloth around your head.

Gojo sits under you in silence, lips humming an unfamiliar tune. You felt his arms loosened his tight hold and now he's squeezing your waist, fingers crawling up to your unattended mounds. Just when you are about to moan after sharing hot kisses with Nanami, Gojo covers your mouth with his right palm. He chuckles upon hearing you gulping your moans down to your larynx.

Seems like Gojo Satoru likes rough sexcs.

Your heart pounds when you can no longer see anyone and anything. Darkness, that's all you can see. Pants and shuffling noises, that's all you can hear.

"I–I can't do this," Your voice stammering as you says this. You tried to remove the cloth from your eyes but a pair of fast hands clasps itself on your small ones, fingers intertwining. You know it's your man, Nanami because you can still feel Gojo's touch on your mounds as he fondles your nipplesx.

"Yes, you can honey, I'm here, I will take care of you," Nanami's words aren't enough to calm your nerves. Not until there's someone other than your boyfriend who can freely have his way to your innocence.

You are scared of him. Scared of Gojo Satoru's approaching attacks.

"I can sense your fear, Y/N, try to calm your breathing, okay?" calm he says. How to do that in this kind of situations?!

Gojo removed a hand on your breast as his other one remains playing with your bud. A cold and thick liquid pours on your slit, down to the tiny hole of your buttx.

"I'll go first." You heard your boyfriend says. Another air hitches in your throat. Nanami sprawls your legs while you are sitting on Gojo's lap, your back against his muscled abdomen and erected shaft.

"Aaahnnoo, no, no, Nanami we–wait aah ghad!" how rude and unmannerly way of claiming you! Nanami Kento already pushed deep and fast into you at first try, tearing down the muscle that proves your innocence!

"What the fxck, Nanami?! Didn't you tell me to take her gently? Look at her! You definitely inflicted bruises with that thrust!" Gojo laughs as he marvels his orbs on your contorted face. He can see your pain as you struggles to adjust your body with his size.

"You're good honey ssshhh~ you'll get used to it later," Nanami tells you comforting words as you breathe heavily, your lips are parted and you can feel him brushing his againt yours.

"My turn," your body starts shaking from fear when you heard Gojo's voice.

Nanami moves a little and you could tell he's lifting you up while his cxck is placed deep inside your clamping core.

"Oh ghad! No, no, no, no, stop! Ghad oh ghad Nanami! Stop him aah!" for a moment, it almost feels like you lost your soul from that laceration on your buttholexx. Your body is trembling hastily as if you're having a seizure. He was big and long! As well as Nanami! You badly needed a way out!

"Aah, Nanami!" you are sobbing while embracing your boyfriend who is now pushing you and Gojo on the mattress.

He sets you both flat on the bed with Gojo underneath you, his coxck resting in your anuxsx.

"We're both straight, dude! Pound your girl not me, okay?"

"Shut up, Satoru! This is your idea! You'll get pounded as well since you're under her.,"

You cannot believe what you are hearing! These men!

"Just bite on my skin honey, first set will be a bit painful."

"Hwuaa–wait Nan–Nanami oh ghad!"

Nanami is right. First dive is painful! One. He dives deep, almost reaching your bottom wall. Two. He pulls out, leaving his cxckheadx between the rim. Three. A smooth but deep thrust. Gojo moans under you. He's also getting pounded and his coxck is bouncing inside your anuxsx. You can feel it throbbing. You swore! Four. He pulls out fast and shoves fast his way back into you, balls almost making its' way as well.

Gasping for air. That's all you can do. Nanami's deep and rough thrusts can really make you speechless.

Your mind went blank. You can't think straight and reason out. Gojo resumes playing with your nipples with only one hand, the other one sliding down your clitorixxs and joins Nanami's coxxck.

Gojo rubbing your clxt while Nanami is pounding you hard. If it's other woman, do you think she can still make it out alive? But wait. They're just getting started, aren't they?

"come on, Nanami, let me have my kind of fun, too," Gojo says, grinning. Nanami stops pounding your creaming pusxy. He withdrawn his dxck and help Gojo settled you the way he wanted to.

Nanami steadies your knees and arms on the bed. Gojo is readying himself behind you. You sprawled there like a puppy, cream dripping from your pusxy and flows down your thighs.

Something thick and long poked your upper lip. It's his! You are sure of it!

"It's me honey~ can you suxk my cxck?"

"Yes aahh daddyhhmmpp!"

Gojo spanks your asxs. Then there's Nanami sliding his length into your mouth. His thing tastes like a sweet kind of salt. It's your juice on his shaft.

Gojo stretches your drenched hole as he slowly inserts his thing in your pusxy.

Your world starts shaking when the two men rails you fast and hard. Their hips pushing their shaftsx in and out from your mouth and cunt.

"fuxck! So tight aahh! come on little one~ cum for daddy Gojo hhngghh~"

"that's good honey, you are doing good. Daddy loves your lips~ suck daddy's cxck hmm hnnnghhh~"

Muscles in your stomach starts contracting. Something is building up and any moment from now that pressure will explode. And you're not mistaken. Gojo fxck you so hard from behind that his coxck serves as a prick on that ball of pressure. Your legs shakes while your inner core pumps out your own juice, creaming Gojo's hard one.

Nanami pulls out his shaftx from your mouth and you can hear him stroking near your face.

Gojo on the other hand also pulls out his member, he flips you down on your back as he strokes his coxck as well.

"Ah shxt!" You whispered when Gojo unloads his jizz on your stomach and thighs.

"Aah~ you are soo fuxcking good babe~" that's the last thing you heard from him before you finally given a chance to experience light.

Gojo disappears after giving you a smile. Now, it's only you and Nanami.

"let's enjoy ourselves honey," Nanami once again, climbs on the bed, joining you.

"what the fuxck just happened, Nanami?" You asked, mind still drifting.

"You just got railed by two hot men honey~" he states simply, lying behind you. "Allow me to spoon you. All you have to do is moan."

"You gotta be good at it, Nanami, or else I might jump over your friend's lap and volunteer to be his doll."

"We'll see honey. One thing for sure, you'll end up begging for more after this," Nanami isn't lying when he said those words.

You found yourself writhing from pleasure while Nanami has your leg atop of his waist. His thick thigh between your legs as he keeps drilling your wet cunt from behind. He's spooning you deep while his hands are busy groping your breast and his fingers rubbing your clxt.

While being pounded fast, you pulled Nanami's face down to your lips and it was you who initiates for a sloppy kiss.

"Fuxck honey~ I'm cumming hmmmppp," You crave for his lips that much that you almost bit his tongue while sucking it, good thing, you avoided it.

"Cumx inside me aaahhh Nanami~ I want your juice inside meee~ I'm thirsty for your coxck and juice pleaaseee aahhhh daddyyy~"

And just like that, Nanami hammers you good from behind, his coxxk spooning your mixed cream as he moves fast while making sure all of his xcum will be planted in your cunt.

"that was so fuxcking good honey hmmm~" Nanami ended the breeding session with his hand wraps around your neck as he kisses you torridly.

It is pure luck that you are still alive after getting railed by two massive shaftsx. You thought.

////

#smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento #18+

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atiny-piratequeen · 5 years

Text

𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒏 𝑴𝒆 𝑪𝒉. 𝟑/𝟒

Pairing: Poly OT8 (Yeosang Focused)

Genre: Smut, PWP

Word Count: 8k

Rating: 18+

Tags: Smut, Established Poly Relationship, Self Esteem Issues, Everyone’s a Switch, First Times, Cum Sharing, Blow Jobs, Biting, Gangbang, Fingersucking, etc

Summary: Yeosang is a very shy man. Everyone knows this.But he’s fed up of his shyness and insecurities being the reason he’s left out of sexual activities from the others. He wants them to look at him like they look at each other

AO3

Chapter One| Chapter Two| Chapter Three| Chapter Four

Taglist: @readbeneaththelines @kwonnansi @vvnte

"-and then he just...walked away." Yeosang finished explaining, having nearly paced a hole through the floor as he recapped the previous night's events to Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung.

Also known as: the trio that he's actually done sexual things with.

Wooyoung hummed, his head in Hongjoong's lap as their leader idly ran his fingers through his hair. Jongho was situated on the floor, a small amused smile playing on the maknae's face as he watched the fourth oldest hyung panic.

"From the sounds of it, we've opened Pandora's box. San's gonna eat you alive, Yeosangie." Wooyoung finally mused, subtly nuzzling his head closer to Hongjoong when he scratched a certain area of his scalp.

"What does that mean?!" Yeosang snapped, pivoting on his heel to point at his blonde boyfriend.

"He means San's now got his focus on you. Which is good for you. Or bad, if you don't have a lot of stamina." Jongho tried to elaborate, but his response only drew a wide eyed stare from Yeosang.

"Here, let me try and help-" Hongjoong cut in, waving his hand until the three men looked at him.

"San is a bit more...predatory when it comes to sex. Not in a bad way, though. But while Woo-ya or Mingi-ya are more straightforward with what they want and when they want it-" Hongjoong trailed off, tapping his chin as he looked for the words. He snapped his fingers after a moment, sending Yeosang a smile.

"San likes to seduce. He loves cat and mouse games when it comes to sex. It usually starts with some innocent back hugs and typical skinship-which he loves Wooyoung the most in that department-but then it goes to subtle grinding, groping, and stuff like that. San likes to drive us crazy so we'll come to him instead of him coming to us and presenting himself, if that makes sense." The blue-haired rapper explained.

Yeosang felt his heart skip.

San was going to make him approach him? Would he even have the backbone for that?

"Don't worry, Yeosangie! You've experienced a lot the past few days and if last night as anything to go by, you’ll do fine when it comes to putting San in his place.” Wooyoung grinned, smiling wide at Yeosang. The older man felt heat creep up to his ears as Hongjoong and Jongho exchanged a look with one another before smiling.

"Yeah, you can always tease him, too. Beat him at his own game. It works like a charm when I do it." Hongjoong cooed, chuckling when Wooyoung kissed at his wrist.

Yeosang bit his lip before he began his pacing once more.

Beat him at his own game, huh? --

Yeosang stared up at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. The singer had declined going out with the others today as they all scattered to go on their own little dates to close out the last few days before comeback.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa left to the label so their leader could work on some beats in the studio. No doubt, Seonghwa tagged along to make sure Hongjoong didn’t exhaust himself in there.

Wooyoung, San, and Mingi eagerly departed to watch a scary movie that had just hit the theaters. Or, rather, San and Wooyoung dragged the tall rapper to the theater to watch the movie, knowing full well how it would turn out. Yeosang was tempted to come along, but he knew he’d be just as bad as Mingi when it came to jumpscares and other scary things.

Yunho headed to the internet cafe to play games and while Yeosang did enjoy playing, he couldn’t quite keep up with the older man.

Jongho left with his gym bag around his shoulder, and everyone knew better than to try and accompany the maknae when he did personal training. He’d push them to the limit and Yeosang wanted nothing to do with the soreness that would come from the workout.

Now a different type of soreness…

Yeosang squirmed, feeling heat creep up to his face before he glanced at his phone. San had sent the group chat a picture of him, Wooyoung, and Mingi grinning and holding their tickets up before they went in.

Mini Hong: Just make sure you don’t do anything inappropriate when the lights go out.

Shiber’s Dad: I have no idea what you mean.

Angry Bird: Really? Because last time we went to the movies, your hand kept finding its way onto my cock, San.

Apple Butcher: Not to mention the time Wooyoung-hyung gave me a blowjob during one of those rom coms.

Elmo’s Giggle: Yah! Don’t bring me into this! You enjoyed it, anyway!

Shiber’s Dad: Oh no, look at the time, we gotta go, byeeeeee.

Mini Hong: Convenient.

Yeosang blushed as the others went back and forth, the thought of San palming and stroking him during a movie and him trying to keep quiet riling him up more than he expected. Biting his lip, he opened the chat once more, pulling up the folder that kept all the pictures, gifs, and videos in it.

It didn’t take much scrolling for him to find the nudes the boys had dropped in the chat. The most recent being San’s video from the other day with Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi. Yeosang bit his lip and started the video, watching the confidence roll off the younger vocalist in waves. By the end of the video, Yeosang was throbbing in his pants, and he decided to go further down the rabbit hole.

He was alone, there was no reason to be shy.

Yeosang scrolled down, finding a video of Mingi recording himself, eyes barely open as he pressed a buzzing vibrator deeper into himself. He groaned, the lower octave of his voice reverberating through Yeosang’s head. The brunette whined, watching Mingi spread his legs wider for the video, eyes nearly rolling back as he came minutes later, cum shooting upwards and covering his fist.

The next video was Seonghwa pinning Yunho to the bed, kissing his shoulder as he rolled his hips sharply, fucking the taller idol as he looked into the camera. Yunho’s thighs shook as he bowed his head down, muttering incoherently as Seonghwa rocked into him, purring into his ear.

“God, you’re clenching me so tight, Yunho. Were you waiting for this?” He cooed, kissing the shell of Yunho’s ear. Yunho whined in his grip, panting as he clearly creeped closer to his climax. Seonghwa continued his sultry sweet nothings until Yunho fell apart in his arms, his bleary eyes looking up at the camera Seonghwa had set up in front of them, making eye contact as he moaned. The older idol came soon after, muttering something about Yunho taking every drop before that video ended.

Yeosang was so hard it hurt. He peeled off his shirt, suddenly feeling like it was much too tight. He shimmied his hips, easing his pants down his body before he kicked them aside. Yeosang pulled his lip between his teeth as he looked for more videos and images that were dropped in the chat. He wrapped his free hand around his cock, mewling as he stroked himself, eyes fixed on his phone screen.

He found everything between Hongjoong fucking Wooyoung against a wall to Jongho recording himself sucking San’s cock.

It didn’t take long before he was whimpering to himself, on his fifth short video when it suddenly dawned on him.

He could take his own.

Yeosang’s hand stilled as he mulled the idea over. He’d never sent anything of his own to the chat besides some selcas, pictures of food, or pictures he took with his drone. Whenever he interacted with the chat when the others were being dirty, it was only a few flustered comments here and there.

Yeosang swallowed thickly, rolling up to his knees as he found a place to put the phone, shuffling back after he switched it to front-facing and hit record. He glanced at the screen a few times, blushing as he saw himself.

The brunette bit his lip, spreading his legs once he was comfortable against his pillows and pulled up sheets. The brunette wrapped his hand around his cock, resuming his languid, leisurely pace from before. Slowly, he allowed himself to get more into the feeling, freeing his lip from his teeth to let his soft moans fall from his lips.

"D-do I look good for you? Would you hurry home for me?" He whispered, glancing at the camera as he stroked his cock faster. His heart was hammering in his chest, though he couldn't help the extra edge of excitement ran up his spine. The other boys were all out in public, how would they react once he hit send?

That thought alone made Yeosang's hand work faster, a trembling moan bouncing off the walls in his room.

"H-hurry, someone come play with me, too." He whined, hips jolting as his thumb rolled over his head, smearing precum from the action. His head fell back, fist pumping faster as he imagined the boys' hands all over him.

Mingi's low voice growling in his ear, fingers laced in his hair. Seonghwa dragging his nails down his thighs. Wooyoung pressing butterfly kisses to his face and cheeks. Hongjoong leaving those nipping kisses across the cream-colored canvas of his ass. San's skilled lips wrapped around his cock, those intense eyes locked on his. Jongho dragging his teeth over his dark nipples. Yunho buried deep inside of him, fully seating him on his cock.

"Oh my god."Yeosang moaned, lifting his hips as he felt fire ignite in the pit of his stomach. The thought of all of them on him, on each other, at the same time was something he never thought about in great detail.

But god, was his mind fixated on it now.

"More, more, more~" he mewled, thighs trembling as he gave one of his nipples an experimental pinch. The keen that left his lips was downright dirty as he continued pinching and rolling the small nub.

So immersed in his playing and how close he was creeping to release, he missed the sound of the front door opening in the dorm.

"I-I'm gonna cum...o-ohh~" he groaned loud, stroking himself fast, eyes nearly rolling back.

Later, when reflecting, he'd realize he was a lot more vocal than expected.

"So close, so close. P-please watch well, okay?" He mewled, not even realizing all of the embarrassment and hesitation from earlier had melted away the more he thought about the others doing this with him. Their eyes all on his body, growling and cooing sweet nothings and pure filth to him. Treating him with gentle hands at times, but groping and clawing at him roughly at others.

Yeosang let out a soft moan that caught in his throat as his hips tensed, cumming after a few more pumps of his cock, lips parted in a soft 'o'. He stroked himself through his orgasm, whining in delight at the mess all over his hand. He made a show of licking his own fingers, purring at the sweet taste of his own cum before he scooted over to the camera, picking it up to send a shy smile and a wink into it.

"Let's play together soon, okay?" He proposed, ending the recording quickly afterwards and pressing send before he could try and back out of it. As soon as it was sent, he let out a small scream, flailing into his pillow.

"I can't believe I did that, oh my god-"

"I can't believe it, either. But it was unbelievably hot." Came a voice from his door.

Yeosang jolted, head snapping towards the direction of the door to find Yunho standing with a small bag from the convenience store down the block.

"H-hyung! I thought you were at the internet cafe…" Yeosang trailed off, swallowing thickly as Yunho eyed him, a kind smile on his face, but undeniable lust in his eyes.

"The cafe is closed for today because of the electrical issues in the area while some kind of construction goes on, so I came home. I felt bad about you being alone so I bought sweets for you." He explained, holding up the bag slightly. Yeosang nodded slowly, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from Yunho.

"How long h-have you been...in the doorway?"

Yunho thought about it for a moment.

"I heard moaning when I came in. It looked like you were playing for a while. You said something about watching well and I couldn't take my eyes off you." He admitted.

Yeosang bit his lip, feeling that fire from before spread through his body. He was being watched and he loved it. The vocalist suddenly remembered their maknae's advice from yesterday.

"If you want someone to fuck you, go to Yunho-hyung first. He's the gentlest."

Yeosang wanted more.

"Yunho-ya...Can you fuck me?" He inquired, loving the way Yunho's eyes darkened.

"I can." Yunho nodded, suddenly feeling like his throat was dry.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Yeosang followed up, crawling to the edge of his bunk to look down at Yunho, feeling a sense of power at the way Yunho not-so-subtly adjusted himself. He set the bag with the sweets down and shrugged off his jacket, cocking his head to the left.

“Why don’t you come down here and find out the answer?” He urged, crooking his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. Yeosang nodded, making his way down the ladder until he was standing before the taller performer.

“I came, are you gonna show me?” Yeosang inquired, his voice quiet, but coy. Yunho leaned down into his space, kissing him slowly, growling at the taste of Yeosang's cum, still faint against his tongue. Yeosang loosely wrapped his arms around Yunho's neck, pressing his body against the taller man's.

"Mm…come with me to my room. I doubt Woo-ya would appreciate us fucking on his bed." Yunho panted slightly after breaking the kiss. Yeosang snorted quietly before nodding, allowing the taller performer to take his wrist, pulling him out of the room after he picked the bag of sweets up once more.

Yeosang pressed closer to Yunho’s side, realizing a bit too late that he was still buck naked and the October chill creeping through their dorm wasn’t helping. Yunho kissed the top of his head as he pulled the smaller idol into he and San’s shared room.

“Lay down, baby. I’ll warm you up.” Yunho cooed, the warm, honey-like tone of his voice making the hair on the back of Yeosang’s neck stand on end. Yeosang shuffled over quickly, sinking into the plush comforter on Yunho’s bed, self consciously closing his legs so he wasn’t as exposed.

Yunho made quick work of his shirt, reaching for a drawer situated in the corner of the room. He pulled out a small bottle of lube, making his way back over to Yeosang. The bed dipped as he slid onto it, his body eclipsing Yeosang’s once more. He ran a hand up the side of Yeosang’s thighs, moving his hand inwards to gently push them apart.

“Relax, Yeo-ya. Let me take care of you.”

There it was again. That honey-sweet voice.

Yeosang nodded, immediately spreading his legs apart so Yunho could see him fully. The blonde rewarded him with a kiss, taking his time as he wrapped his hand around Yeosang’s half hard cock. He smiled against his lips at the gasp that followed shortly after, but continued stroking until Yeosang began to whimper against his lips, lifting his hips up ever so slightly to thrust into his fist.

Yunho chuckled, nipping at his bottom lip before he pulled back, reaching for the lube. Yeosang watched his every move, swallowing thickly.

“Yunho-ya, I just want you to know I’ve never...done this before. Uh, been on the receiving end, I mean.” He fumbled his words, frowning at how much of a fool he sounded like. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, popping the cap open to coat his fingers before he kissed Yeosang’s temple.

“It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.” he promised, pressing one cool finger against Yeosang’s hole. The brunette bit his lip in anticipation, sighing when he felt one of Yunho’s long fingers slide into him. He felt less discomfort than he did before when Jongho fingered him, though he noticed a particular tingle running up and down his spine the more Yunho worked his finger in and out of him.

“W-what is that? It feels...ah!” He gasped, a moan slipping past his lips when Yunho slid another finger in to accompany the first, scissoring them apart as he did so. Yunho smiled from above him, lips close to Yeosang’s ear as he spoke.

“The lube warms up after a little bit. Does it feel good, Yeosangie?” He cooed, his voice a low rumble as he curled his fingers, listening closely to every hitch of Yeosang's breath. Yeosang nodded, spreading his legs wider.

“Hyung, more, please.” He whimpered, sighing against Yunho’s neck when he was rewarded with the third finger. Yunho’s free hand trailed down Yeosang’s body wrapping around his cock once more to stroke him languidly in time with his fingers. The brunette vocalist arched his back, grabbing Yunho’s shoulders tight, soft moans falling from his lips as his precum leaked over Yunho’s long fingers.

“M-More, Yunho-ya, more more more-” He begged, looking up at Yunho with his brows knitted up, a wanton and desperate expression on his face. Yunho bit back a curse and nodded, curling his fingers apart a few more times for good measure before he pulled away.

The blonde fumbled with his belt for a moment or two before he slid it out of the loops. He popped the button on his jeans open before shimmying them down his hips with his boxers, kicking them off carelessly to the side. San would probably kill him later for the mess he was creating in their room, but that was something he could deal with when the time arose.

“Oh my god.”

Yeosang’s voice brought his attention forward, and Yunho noticed the way Yeosang’s eyes were fixated on his cock, looking slightly intimidated and aroused at the same time.

“Jongho told me you were gentle, he didn’t mention you were hung like a fucking horse.”

Yunho didn’t mean to laugh as hard as he did, honestly. But the snort that left his lips and the flush that crept up to his ears were inevitable. Yeosang was a shy man, but he also was the bluntest of all of them, and it stroked Yunho’s ego to hear the lewd compliment.

“I’ll be sure to thank him later. For now, I’ll be sure to show you what he means.” He sent Yeosang a wink before mentioning something about finding a condom. Yeosang nodded and watched Yunho head back towards the same drawer where he pulled the lube out of. When he returned, he settled himself between Yeosang’s legs, rolling the condom onto his cock before adding lube to both himself and Yeosang’s quivering entrance.

“C-cold…”

“It won’t be for long. Hold onto me.” Yunho instructed, pressing his palms at either side of Yeosang’s head, holding himself up over the smaller idol. Yeosang nodded, wrapping his arms around Yunho’s torso, trembling slightly. Yunho noticed and kissed over his birthmark, his cheek, all the way to his lips.

“If it’s too much or I’m hurting you, let me know, alright?” He instructed, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Yeosang nodded, sending him a small smile before he felt the older idol slowly push into him.

Yeosang tensed at first, his breath hitching up and his nails digging slightly into Yunho’s back. The blonde stopped when he was halfway, pressing their heads together to steady himself.

“Fuck, you’re tight, Yeo. Are you okay?” He whispered, looking down at Yeosang in concern. The smaller man had his eyes closed, his fingers flexing slightly against Yunho’s back as he adjusted to the intrusion, slowly relaxing.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just...different.” He admitted, cracking his eyes open. Yunho held his gaze, giving his hips an experimental roll to test the waters. Yeosang gasped beneath him and he repeated the action, slowly thrusting shallowly into the brunette.

Yeosang was quiet at first, only a few whines and groans here and there, but Yunho noticed him adjusting with each thrust. He sunk further and further into the other idol until he was fully seated inside of him and Yeosang began to whimper.

“D-don’t stop, Hyung. I can f-feel it warming up.” He whined, hiding his face below him. Yunho smiled, kissing his knuckles persistently until Yeosang peeked from between his fingers, looking up at him.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I want to see your face.” He cooed, rolling his hips faster. Yeosang moaned, one hand finding its way to Yunho’s arm, and the other balling up in the sheets. Encouraged by the positive reaction, Yunho gave Yeosang an experimental hard thrust, a pleased smile gracing his face when he heard the trembling mewl that left Yeosang’s lips.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy. And you were worried, hm?” Yunho chuckled, cutting off whatever remark Yeosang had to say with a firm kiss, changing his pace from the slow, deep ones, to faster, harder ones. The bed shifted from the sudden change, and Yeosang could’ve sworn one or two of San’s plushies toppled from the top bunk as Yunho rocked into him. He didn’t care much to investigate, choosing to lace his fingers into the Gwangju native’s hair, pulling as he moaned against his lips.

“Feels good, Yunho-ya. H-harder, please!" Yeosang gasped, body arching up when he felt Yunho's cock slam into him just right. Yunho let out a small sound that suspiciously close to a growl as he sat up, moving his hands to hold Yeosang's hips. He watched the younger man, admiring every inch of his flushed and slightly sweaty body.

He must have stilled his thrusts as he did so, from the pleading look Yeosang sent up to him.

"H-hyung? Please…"

"God, you look beautiful, Yeosangie. I can't take my eyes off you." Yunho admitted, licking his lips as he picked back up, his balls slapping against Yeosang's ass with every thrust. Yeosang's half lidded and hazy eyes widened in an instant, a loud cry leaving his lips as Yunho slammed right into the same delicious spot Jongho had teased with his fingers the day prior.

"Hyung! Right there, Hyung please, ahhn~!" Yeosang pleaded, unable to move with Yunho's hands holding him down.

"Mm...you look like you're close, Yeosang. Do you wanna cum?" Yunho's voice is a teasing purr as he ran one of his hands over Yeosang's clenching abdomen, all the way down to his pelvis, before skipping completely over his cock to caress his sweaty and trembling thigh.

"Please? I can't hold back, Yunho-ya. It feels good, it f-feels so good-" Yeosang let out another broken moan, bringing his hand up to his mouth to cover it as higher pitched whimpers left his lips. Yunho pried it away almost instantly, shaking his head.

"No, let me hear you. Look at me, baby boy. I want to watch you as you cum for me." He panted, feeling himself coming close, as well. Yeosang groaned and rolled his hips down, looking Yunho in the eyes as he moaned for him.

"C-cum with me, Hyung. I can't h-hold it anymore." He stammered, one of his legs wrapping around Yunho's waist. The taller man nodded, wrapping his hand around Yeosang's cock to stroke him to completion.

"I got you, baby. Let go for me." Yunho purred, pleased at the absolute wrecked expression on Yeosang's face. The smaller man came soon after, a long, drawn out moan leaving his lips as he spilled all over Yunho's fist. Yunho kept his pace, rolling his hips until he came himself, pressing their foreheads together as he let the aftershocks roll over him.

Yeosang cupped his cheeks gently, and he cracked his eyes open, his heart stuttering at the blissed out look on the smaller singer's face.

"Thank you, Yunho." He whispered, caressing his cheek with the most gentle touch. Yunho sent him an enamored smile, nuzzling their noses together before he kissed him, slowly pulling out of him. He frowned when Yeosang let out a sound of protest.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" He inquired as soon as Yeosang whined. The brunette shook his head.

"Ah, no. I...I liked it better when I felt full." Yeosang admitted, biting his lip. Yunho bit his lip and shook his head, rolling his tongue over his cum-covered fingers, winking at Yeosang when he blushed.

"You're a dangerous man, Kang Yeosang. Here, sit still. I'll clean us up." Yunho offered, getting up to discard of the condom first before he left the room, coming back with two warm rags. He gently wiped away any remaining sweat and cum from Yeosang's body, leaving a kiss to his temple before he went to his closet, coming back with two bundles of clothes.

"Yunho, I can just get up and grab my own-"

"Or you could wear mine and cuddle with me."

They stared at each other, with Yeosang cracking a smile after Yunho arched a brow. Yunho's nose crinkled up as he smiled back, watching as Yeosang slid the much too big shirt over his head. He snickered when he noticed it pretty much fell past his ass, effectively being more of a dress than a shirt. He waved off the pants Yunho offered him, knowing those wouldn't stay in place, regardless.

Instead, he scooted further into Yunho's bed, beckoning him over with a tilt of his head.

"Hurry up and cuddle me, then." He sassed. Yunho sent him a small chuckle, pulling his own clothes on before making his way into his bed, moving past Yeosang so he was behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Yeosang giggled as Yunho pulled him flush against him, lacing their fingers together as Yunho kissed his cheek.

"You did well today, Yeosang." Yunho mused after a moment or two of the comfortable silence. Yeosang smiled and squeezed his hands.

"Thank you, Hyung. I love you." Yeosang yawned, feeling sleep pulling at him. Yunho flushed from behind him, but he kissed the top of his head in response.

"I love you too, Yeosangie."

"H-hurry. Someone come play with me, too."

San burst into the dorm like a bat out of hell no later than an hour after Yeosang's video set off everyone's kakaotalk chats. Mingi and Wooyoung followed close behind, with the former looking as feral as San, while Wooyoung looked impressed.

Aroused, but impressed.

He hadn't expected his friend to gather his courage that fast, and he was sure Yeosang would love the fact that he had gotten under San's skin in so little time.

"Yah! Kang Yeo-"

"Ah ah, hold it right there."

San's voice was cut off by their leader as Hongjoong strolled out of the kitchen, pointing in his direction with a pair of chopsticks. It appeared like the rapper had started cooking dinner for them all.

"No yelling. Yeosang is already asleep. Yunho, too." He informed them, sending a sympathetic look their way at the way Mingi and San's shoulders slumped.

"Ah, dammit. If only we weren't at the movie…" Mingi trailed off. Wooyoung couldn't help the small snicker that left his lips as he watched San huff.

Yeosang had nearly beat him at his own game in record time, and all he'd done was send a single video.

"That's too bad. Maybe we can play instead, Sannie~" Wooyoung winked, a satisfied smirk on his face at the way San's dark eyes flickered over to him.

"Make sure you all go to your room then, Woo-ya. Yeosang is sleeping in Yunho and San's room." Seonghwa informed them.

San twitched, making his way to his room to check. Wooyoung and Mingi followed, all three of them noticing the smell of sex still lingering in the room while Yunho and Yeosang cuddled with one another.

Yeosang looked like a small angel, tucked in Yunho's protective arms as he slept, his lips slightly parted as a gentle snore left them.

San wanted to wreck him.

Closing the door, he pointed to both Mingi and Wooyoung, the arousal practically rolling off him in waves.

"Both of you. Let's go." He ordered, stomping in the direction of Yeosang and Wooyoung's room.

The two younger members exchanged a look before grinning, hastily rushing down the hall so they didn't keep San waiting.

“Hyung, can I ask you something?”

Hongjoong looked up from his laptop to see Yeosang standing in his doorway, looking troubled. The leader read his body language and nodded, closing his laptop.

“Yeah, of course. What’s wrong?” he inquired, beckoning Yeosang into the room. Yeosang shuffled in and sat down beside him, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with the right words. Hongjoong gave him the time, feeling the situation was oddly familiar.

“I...I want to do something special for Mingi-ya. He’s really upset he can’t perform and I know it’s eating him up inside. I’ve never done it, though…” he trailed off, cheeks hot. Hongjoong arched his cut brow, clearly not following.

“So you need my help with doing...what exactly?”

Yeosang pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek subtly.

“Oh! Oh, I understand.” the leader chuckled, nodding once. “You want me to teach you how to give blowjobs?”

If the way Yeosang’s cheeks darkened was anything to go by, he hit the nail on the head.

“Mingi’s joints are in pain and I don’t want to try anything...too active because he’s supposed to be resting.” Yeosang explained, rubbing his arm. Hongjoong’s face softened.

Their comeback was a few days ago, with all of them taking the stage and owning it. Unfortunately, Mingi wasn’t able to continue with the rest after the first few performances since he was having severe joint pain.

A small cloud loomed over the group every time they had to go out without their second rapper and Yeosang wanted to do something.

Hongjoong pushed himself up out of his bed, making his way over to the younger idol. He tossed an arm over Yeosang’s shoulder, ushering him out of the room and down the hall. The bluenette tapped the back of his knuckles against the door, tightening his grip on Yeosang when the younger man moved to hide behind him.

“Where’s the confidence from before?”

“What am I supposed to do? ‘Hi, I know you’re sad about not being able to perform, may I interest you in a blowjob?!’” Yeosang hissed back in a whisper as someone shuffled around in the room. Hongjoong snorted, smiling as Jongho opened the door, sending them a smile.

“Ah, hi hyungs. What’s up?”

“Yeosang wants to give Mingi a blowjob to make him feel better.” Hongjoong answered without missing a beat. Yeosang’s eyes widened and he slapped his leader’s arm, squawking in embarrassment. Jongho’s brows went up in interest, looking at the brunette before he leaned against the doorframe.

“Oh? Am I supposed to leave the hyungs to do naughty things in my room, then?” He taunted, but Hongjoong only shrugged one shoulder, sending him a grin in response.

“You’re more than welcome to stay. The more, the merrier, right?” He winked, barely holding back laughter bubbling up in his throat at the way Jongho perked in interest. The maknae stepped aside, letting the duo in. Yeosang smiled at Mingi when the rapper looked away from his phone, sending them a half smile.

“Hyungs. What’s up?” He inquired, tossing his phone aside in favor of giving them his full attention. Yeosang’s gaze softened as he walked to the redhead, kneeling on the bed to kiss his head. Mingi smiled wide, wrapping his arms around his body to bring him down into his lap.

“I wanted to check up on you.” Yeosang told him, his knees situated at either side of Mingi’s waist. Mingi hummed, putting his chin on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

“I’m alright. It sucks, but I’ll be sure to take care of myself so I can perform.” He promised. Yeosang nodded, idly running his fingers through Mingi’s hair, the cogs in his mind turning. After a moment or two, he bit his lip, pulling Mingi away so he could fix him with a stare. Mingi blinked, tilting his head at the sudden change in Yeosang’s expression.

“What’s wrong, Hyung?”

“I want...to do something for you. To make you feel a bit better. If that’s okay. If not, it’s-”Yeosang cut himself off when Hongjoong placed a supportive hand on his back. The older man didn’t say a word, but Yeosang relaxed, anyway, looking into Mingi’s eyes as he spoke again.

“I wanted to try giving you a b-blowjob and Hong-ah said he would help. If that’s okay. If not, we can like, cuddle or something.” He mumbled, lowering his gaze. Mingi’s lips parted in surprise and he looked up at the brunette. His gaze flickered over to Hongjoong and Jongho, but they only arched a brow at him, waiting.

“Y-Yeah, of course, Hyung. If you don’t mind…” He trailed off, though Yeosang could tell by the subtle press against his ass that the younger idol was very much interested. Pleased, Hongjoong pushed Jongho to sit beside Mingi, sliding to his knees smoothly. He ran a hand up Yeosang’s spine, motioning to the floor when he looked down at him.

“Now that we’ve gotten that settled, let me show you how it’s done, baby boy.” he cooed. Yeosang blushed and nodded, scooting himself out of Mingi’s lap in order to kneel beside Hongjoong on the floor.

“Good. Now could you two do us a favor and get rid of those pants?” Hongjoong instructed, turning his gaze back over to the younger two idols. Mingi and Jongho nodded quickly, slightly fumbling as they pushed their pajama pants down past their hips.

Yeosang noticed Mingi’s lack of underwear underneath, but held back the teasing remark that was right on the tip of his tongue. It seemed a lot of them had a habit of sleeping with no underwear.

He supposed with a dorm full of sexually frustrated idols, he could understand not wanting to waste time fumbling with extra clothing.

Hongjoong’s voice made him snap back to reality as he addressed him, wrapping one hand around Jongho’s cock.

“Everyone’s different, so you may have to test the waters a bit when it comes to your partner, Yeosangie. If you do a little teasing before, they may be fully hard when you get on your knees, if not, a few strokes and kisses will do just fine~” He chirped, slowly pumping his hand. There was something about the way he paid Jongho no mind as he squirmed in his grip that made Yeosang shift from his spot, feeling himself harden.

He turned his gaze to Mingi, who was watching him in anticipation. Yeosang scooted closer to the rapper, pushing his thighs apart so he could settle between them, following Hongjoong’s lead.

He wrapped his fingers around Mingi’s dick, noticing he was...quite girthy. The small, satisfied hum that left the rapper’s throat as Yeosang stroked him made his face hot, but he focused more on watching his half hard cock fully pulse to life. He heard gentle kisses from his right, and remembered Hongjoong’s advice.

Yeosang’s eyes flickered up to Mingi’s face, watching his expression as he pressed soft kisses to the head of his cock. The redhead exhaled, licking his lips.

“Roll your tongue around the head, Sangie. Then slowly ease down. Take your time, Mingi-ya will be patient today, right? No wild face fucking?” Hongjoong directed the question at the other rapper, but all three of the younger idols shuddered in arousal from the slightly threatening tone.

“A-ah, yes. I won’t do anything.” Mingi nodded.

Yeosang watched Hongjoong send the younger rapper a pleased smile before he turned his attention to Jongho’s cock, his lips stretching around the maknae’s dick. Yeosang turned his gaze back to Mingi’s formidably sized cock in his hand, pumping him a few more times before flicking his tongue out to catch a pearl of precum that rolled out. He slid Mingi’s cock into his mouth about half way down, bracing one hand on one of Mingi’s thick thighs.

Yeosang was tentative at first, rolling his tongue over the tip of Mingi’s dick before slowly bobbing his head. He watched Hongjoong out of the corner of his eye, cheeks flushed as the blue haired rapper worked Jongho's cock in and out of his mouth, stroking half of it leisurely while tilting his head.

Yeosang copied him, slightly hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked harder, pumping his hand.

Mingi sighed from above him, drawing his attention. The redhead had his eyes trained on Yeosang. He clearly wanted to do something with his hands, if the way they kept clenching and unclenching in the sheets was anything to go by.

"Mmm, you should tease the spot just under the head of his cock, Yeo. Mingi's very sensitive there~" Hongjoong purred from his left. Yeosang followed the instruction, running his tongue up the underside of Mingi's cock until he was just below the tip.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Mingi's face, Yeosang pressed his tongue firmly against the sensitive area.

"Fuck." Mingi breathed, hips twitching upwards. Yeosang smiled around his cock, getting bolder as he alternated between caressing that spot with his tongue and bobbing his head. There was spit running past the corner of his lips the more he sucked, but Yeosang didn't mind.

Mingi's hand found his way onto the top of his head, his voice an octave lower than usual and thick with lust.

"Hyung you look so good like this. You're moaning around my dick, too. Do you like giving me head? Are you getting off from this?" Mingi growled. Yeosang felt a chill run down his spine, looking up into his eyes. He felt small and vulnerable like this, with half of Mingi's cock heavy on his tongue as he nodded.

In all honesty, he was aching in his basketball shorts and he could feel the telltale wetness of his own precum smeared against the cotton of his boxers.

"Mm...mhm." was all the brunette could manage with his mouth full. The hum leaving his throat made Mingi growl once more, and the hand atop Yeosang's head tightened into a fist, pulling slightly.

"I wish I could fuck that pretty little face, Yeosangie. You'd probably cum from that alone, huh?"

Yeosang whimpered. The thought of Mingi using him roughly, pulling him down and making him swallow more of his cock, taking control completely, was getting to him a lot more than he originally thought. His mind was so hazy, he hardly noticed Hongjoong shifting beside him until there was a new hand on his head, gently brushing away Mingi's.

"There you go, baby. Breathe through your nose, you can take him deeper." He cooed, his fingers gentle, but firm in his scalp. Yeosang moaned in response and followed his instructions, letting the older idol bob his head, pushing him further down on Mingi's dick.

Mingi groaned, hips rolling up subtly once or twice before he was slightly distracted by Jongho kissing him, letting Hongjoong and Yeosang do all the work.

"Look at you, Sangie. First time sucking cock and you're already more than half way down Mingi's cock. You sure you haven't been practicing?" Hongjoong teased. Yeosang shook his head, blushing as he slurped loudly around Mingi's cock. He could hear the younger idol whining against Jongho's lips, with his cock pulsing hot and heavy on his tongue.

Was he close? Would he cum?

Yeosang hadn't even realized Hongjoong had removed his hand at some point. The smaller of the two rappers sat back, watching in satisfaction as Yeosang bobbed his own head, hands gripping and kneading the skin and muscle of Mingi's thighs.

"Yeosang, fuck….don't stop." Mingi pleaded, breaking his kiss with their maknae in order to look back down. Jongho pulled out his phone, biting his lip as he started recording.

The others needed to see this.

The sounds leaving Yeosang's mouth were downright filthy, between the muffled moans and soft whines, to the obscene slurping and occasional gagging. Encouraged by Mingi's increasing volume as he got close and Hongjoong's encouraging voice, Yeosang pushed himself down as far as he could, tears welling up slightly as he pushed back a gag.

"Oh my fucking God, Hyung-" Mingi pulled the sheets by his own hips, feeling himself getting close. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum, Hyung." He warned, jaw clenching.

Yeosang watched his expression closely, clearly showing no intention of pulling off.

"Wah, look at that~ Yeosangie-hyung wants to swallow it, doesn't he?" Jongho mused. Yeosang finally noticed he was being recorded, but his shyness from earlier had melted away. He sent Jongho's phone a heated, half-lidded stare as he tilted his head, never slowing his pace as he sucked Mingi off.

"Fuck, that's hot." Hongjoong cursed, palming himself as he watched Yeosang like a hawk.

"Hyung-" was all Mingi could manage before his lower body tensed, cock twitching in Yeosang's mouth before he came.

Yeosang mewled from between Mingi's thighs, making sure he continued sucking until he had every last drop of Mingi's cum in his mouth. He slid the younger idol's dick out of his mouth slowly, smiling deviously at the curse that fell from both Mingi and Jongho's lips at the action.

Those light brown eyes moved to Jongho's camera before he stuck his tongue out, smirking slightly at the way the younger member's breath hitched.

"Look at him, showing off Mingi's cum like a prize. I helped you tonight, so you wouldn't mind sharing, right?" Hongjoong teased, sliding up beside Yeosang to tilt his head, stealing a kiss from him.

It was sloppy, their tongues rolling against one another as they shared Mingi's cum.

"Oh that's just unfair." Jongho shook his head, unconsciously stroking his own cock to relieve some of the tension. Yeosang was breathless by time Hongjoong broke the kiss, unconsciously chasing his lips for more.

"Now now, baby." Hongjoong chuckled and motioned to Jongho. "We can kiss later. We should make sure everyone's satisfied. You up for taking care of Jongho and I?" He inquired, petting Yeosang's head. The younger man nodded, scooting over to Jongho.

He didn't hesitate, taking the maknae in his mouth. Jongho was similar in size to Mingi, both of them being on the girthier side. It made Yeosang's head fuzzy thinking of the wild, energetic way Mingi would thrust into him or the sheer power behind Jongho's thrusts if either of them were to fuck him.

"Look at that, all blissed out for us and we haven't even touched you, baby. Were you that eager to please? We definitely should've played with you sooner." Hongjoong cooed from somewhere behind Yeosang. The compliment went straight to his cock, and Yeosang couldn't help the way his hand drifted downwards, dipping into his shorts and boxers to stroke himself.

The three of them were watching him, growling and groaning filthy compliments to him while Jongho recorded. The others would see this soon.

Perfect.

It didn't take long for Jongho to cum, filling Yeosang's mouth. Hongjoong had turned his head shortly after that, making him stick out his tongue as he stroked himself to completion, a couple ropes of cum landing against his lips messily. He made a point to lick them slowly, fixing Hongjoong with a heated stare.

"I'm next, hyung. Are you gonna blow me?" Yeosang challenged, tilting his chin upwards. Hongjoong tutted, impressed by the confidence coming from the normally timid man.

"We'll take care of you. Get that cute ass up on this bed. You can ditch the shorts. You don't need em." Hongjoong ordered, motioning for Mingi and Jongho to move to make space. The boys shuffled out of the way, letting Yeosang climb up to Mingi's bed after he had wiggled out of his boxers and shorts.

"On your back. Spread your legs, babe."

Yeosang bit his lip and obeyed, spreading his legs wide for the three of them. Mingi's lips parted slightly, clearly drinking him in like he was a meal laid out for him. Jongho ran his fingers up Yeosang's thigh, dragging them inward and over the length of his straining cock.

"How did I not notice the beauty mark before?" He mused. Yeosang blushed, remembering Hongjoong making a similar observation days ago.

"Probably because you were eating my ass?" He offered, not expecting the way all three of their eyes darkened.

"Why is that so hot coming from you?" Jongho growled. Mingi nodded in agreement, unable to keep himself from eyeing up Yeosang's ass.

"I can fuck him, right? It should be fine-"

"Don't strain yourself, Mingi-ya. You'll have plenty of opportunities to fuck Yeosang once you've recovered." Hongjoong cut in, leaning down to drag his tongue over the left side of Yeosang's dick. Jongho did the same to the right side, purring as he met Hongjoong at Yeosang's tip, kissing sloppily over it.

"O-oh-" Yeosang gasped, watching them with wide eyes as they repeated the action, sucking and kissing at his cock while meeting at the head often, sharing sloppy French kisses with him in the middle. Mingi slid to the floor while the other two focused on Yeosang's cock. He helped himself to Yeo's ass, spitting on his hole lewdly before pushing his tongue inside.

"N-ngh, oh my god-" Yeosang panted, eyes rolling from the sensation. Jongho had began to cup and play with his balls while he and Hongjoong shared his cock. All while Mingi muttered sweet nothings about how he would fuck him into the mattress as soon as he was at 100% health.

Yeosang knew he wouldn't last long. He was already dangerously close when they'd started focusing on him, and minutes later, his lithe body tensed as he arched up, cuming on both Jongho and Hongjoong's faces.

The two didn't seem to mind as they grinned at one another, moving to clean off their faces, leaving Mingi and Yeosang alone for a moment. Yeosang was panting, eyes unfocused and fixed on the underside of Jongho's bunk as he stared upwards, trying to collect himself. Mingi gently rubbed his thigh, peeking down at him.

"Hyung?"

"Mmm?"

"You still with me?"

"I feel euphoric, but I'm still down on earth, I promise."

Mingi chuckled and kissed his head.

"Thank you, Yeosangie. I feel a lot better. I'll be sure to recover quickly, okay? I've gotta fully repay you for today." He chirped. Yeosang smiled at him as Hongjoong and Jongho returned.

"Okay. I'll hold you to that."

Seonghwa's eyes followed San's every move as the man paced in front of him. He looked like a coil wound much too tight, ready to spring at any moment.

Yeosang had really gotten to him, huh?

"So, you called me outside at midnight when we're supposed to be sleeping for our performance tomorrow because…?" He started, watching San pivot on his heel as soon as he addressed him, stopping in front of him.

"Kang Yeosang."

The way San's voice was dripping with lust made Seonghwa stand up straighter, watching the younger man in interest. San was their beloved schemer and Seonghwa had heard that tone many times before.

Whatever it is San was planning, Yeosang was in for a wild ride.

"He's been with everyone except us, right? Maybe we should help him out and meet him halfway?" San purred standing in Seonghwa's personal space. The older singer didn't mind, instead cocking his head to the left.

"You have a plan, I'm assuming?"

"Absolutely."

"And you want me to help you out with this?"

"You'd let the chance to have our precious boyfriend moaning in pleasure underneath you slip away?" San shot back, arching a brow. Seonghwa's jaw ticked as he thought about the videos he'd seen. The moans, gasps, and whines he'd heard through his headphones that drove him crazy.

"I'm in."

San licked his lips.

"Excellent."

#fie writes #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez ot8 fic #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #member x member

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personasintro · 5 years

Text

Hope World | 05 [jhs]

synopsis; You’ve decided to try dancing class, but the one who teaches you how to dance actually hates you.

words count: 5.3k

warnings: strong language

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

masterlist link

The beads of sweat are rolling down your forehead but even that doesn’t stop you from moving. You push your body from the ground, following the right steps of the choreography Hoseok showed you the last time. Your lungs are hurting making it harder for you to breath, but you ignore all of it — pushing it off the side focusing on your body movements. The song ends, yours and Hoseok’s heavy breathing filling the dance practice.

“Again.” You tell him, already getting into the position your choreography starts.

“Don’t you want to drink some water and have some rest?” He asks through his heavy breathing as he tries to breathe properly. His brows are furrowed as he’s trying to catch his own breath watching you do the same.

“No.” You answer almost immediately, impatiently waiting for him to turn the damn music on. He watches you for a moment, his hands holding his one hip. Even he’s tired after doing the same choreography without any break for god knows how long. He reaches for his water bottle beside his sport bag. You watch him as he opens the bottle, drinking the water inside of it while his Adam’s apple bobs. Wow, he’s thirsty. You think as he almost drinks the whole bottle. When he’s done, he’s handing it to you waiting for you to take it. But with a small shake of your head, you mutter ‘I’m good’ before looking at yourself in the mirror. You want to scrunch your face in disgust when your whole body glistens with sweat and you’re sure you can smell it mostly in your armpits. Your whole face is red with exhaustion while your whole body aches. But even that doesn’t push you to sit down for a bit. Not when you’ve those words in your head.

“I think you should take a break. You haven’t drink anything ever since you came here.” Hoseok says, pulling you out of your thoughts causing you to look away from your reflection. His dark brown fridge is wet with his own sweat, sticking to his own forehead as he wipes it off with his towel. He throws is back onto the floor closing his eyes for a moment, trying to slow down his breathing.

“No, I’m good.” You tell him again, really starting to feel impatient. He sighs, not telling you anything even though you could see him open his mouth for a second. He stands beside you, listening to the melody as the song starts. You hear him count and on his clue you start to dance the choreography once again. Your whole body aches but you still push yourself to do better, ignoring that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like you’re going to throw up anytime soon from the exhaustion. To be honest, you haven’t feel this kind of exhaustion in a very long time. It’s the time of the body roll, the whole move is supposed to be fast and you’re trying your best. But your whole head spins following with what seems like someone punched your brain, causing you to catch yourself onto the floor. You shut your eyes in displeasure, hearing the music stop.

“That’s enough,” Hoseok’s loud and authoritative voice echoes in the room causing you to open your eyes. You breathe heavily slowly standing onto your feet feeling your head to shake once again. “Drink some water and take a break.” He tells you, not asking you this time. He watches you with his sharp eyes ready for you to obey him.

You lick your dry lips, trying to moisturize them but you barely have any saliva to do that. “I’m fine.” You tell him through your teeth, ignoring your headache and your whole body ache. You look away, staring at your own reflection which seems to be somehow blurry.

“No, you’re not,” He tells you through gritted teeth, his loud voice surprising you a bit but you don’t react. “You’re probably dehydrated and on verge of fainting.” He states with firm tone in his voice, showing his dominance over you as your dance instructor.

“Seriously, I—“ This time he doesn’t let you finish, a huge scowl covering his whole face as he look genuinely furious at you. He hates when someone is overworking themselves, he knows it best of all the people. He hates when he sees his clients like this — despite of their history with him. He won’t allow to anything bad happen through his dance class. Even if he has to deal with stubborn people like you. He’ll gladly put you into your own place.

“Take a break and that’s final.” He snaps at you, turning around grabbing his phone harshly. You stand there dumbfounded, his eyes snapping to yours as he sends daggers your way. You growl, turning around to your own stuff grabbing the unopened water bottle. You don’t realize how thirsty you really are until you finish the whole bottle, a desperate sigh leaving your dehydrated lips. You stand there, watching Hoseok as he taps into his phone. You wait for him to continue with this dance class, you’ve only your last twenty minutes and you want to make the most of it. But he ignores you causing you to sigh knowing he meant the break very seriously. You plump onto your butt, annoyingly sighing. However, your body is thanking you for the rest. Your muscles aches as the proof of your hard work. You throw your head back, leaning it against white wall causing you to shut your eyes. You feel your heart in your throat as it beats quickly.

“I think we should end it here for today.” Hoseok’s voice jolts you awake, without you realizing you stayed like this for a few minutes. You stand up almost immediately ignoring the throb in your head.

“What? We still have,” You look at your phone, seeing you still have thirteen minutes. Perfectly fine to go through the choreography at least three times. “Thirteen minutes. I took my break, I’m fine.” You assure him, your voice louder sounding almost desperate.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I think you’ve had enough for today. You’ve worked hard.” In some other moments you’d appreciate the little praise he just gave you but all you can hear is his ‘you’ve had enough for today’ and that doesn’t set with you well.

“B-but I’m perfectly fine!” You exclaim, not in the mood for fighting but if it’s all it takes for him to move his ass and do his actual job, you’ll do it. And he sees the determination on your face, but that doesn’t stop him.

“Is this because of what your mother told you?” He asks straightforwardly, scowling at you as you gape at him with opened mouth. You’re shocked for a moment before you close your mouth adverting your eyes from his confident ones. He’s not looking away from you, stubbornly keeping his eyes on you watching you every facial expression you make. He knows he hit the nail at the way your throat bobs.

“You know nothing.” You murmur, hating how exposed you feel right now. Well, because he’s right. Ever since your mother so kindly embarrassed you in front of him, her words has been replaying in your mind ever since. You can’t get her words it off your mind when you look at yourself in the mirror. It’s not that you’re fat, you can see your stomach not being completely flat and you were always fine with it. Until your mother told you otherwise. You’re aware of your stretch marks on your thighs, the cause of your growing up and your body enveloping into a woman. You had to deal with this body changes ever since you’ve become woman and it’s been tough — not because you thought it. But because your mother made you think about it like that.

“Actually, I think I know it pretty well.” You hate how confident he sounds when he says it. You roll your eyes your hands self consciously covering your stomach as you feel suddenly fat under his dark eyes. You’re not stupid. Hoseok’s body is perfect. He isn’t overly full of abs but you can still see the glimpse of it every time he sweats a little or wears slightly translucent T-shirts. He is quite tall with broad shoulders and thick thighs. His whole body is a proof of his hard work. And you know with what kind of girls he’s hanging out with. He never gave you a one reason to feel self conscious but you still do, remembering his date. She was perfect. A tall, skinny girl. And you wish you’d look like her. Maybe your mother would let you live after that.

“We still have thirteen minutes, well eleven now but doesn’t matter. I’m paying you.” You decide to ignore him mentioning your mother, not really in the mood of talking about her. Not when she’s the reason why you’re like this. Why you aren’t comfortable in your own skin. You raise your brow at him, not in a rude way but show him you’re indeed, paying him for doing his work. Not caring about your personal matters or life.

“I’ll gladly give you the money back,” He bites, furrowing his brows at you even more. You never thought it’s even possible, but he does it. “I’m not going to continue. Not when you’re fucking exhausted like this.” He isn’t screaming, but his harsh words are making your throat to feel tight as you bite into your lip. You’re desperate. You need to move and do something with yourself. And he’s here standing not helping you.

“Fine.” You snap, turning around grabbing your sport bag rather harshly but you don’t care. You know it may look like you’re overreacting and maybe you’ll be embarrassed about this later, but you can’t deal with all those emotions inside of you. You want nothing more than to eat ice cream and cry at the unfair life but you can practically see your mother scolding you. For the ice cream part, of course.

“Y/N, come on. Stop overreacting.” You hear Hoseok say as you’re making your way to the door ignoring him. But what you don’t expect is for him to catch up to you, his hand slapping against the door not allowing you to open it. You unwillingly look at him, giving him a nasty glare in return but he doesn’t back down. He’s not intimidated. Not when all he sees is broken girl.

“Let me go. You said it yourself, Hoseok. This is enough for today.” You tell him confidently despite your voice shivering a little bit. All you want to do is wrap yourself in your fluffiest blanket, away from this awful world.

“Y/N,” He calls to you, challenging you to look at him. You can feel his breath hitting your face and the smell of his deodorant and sweat mixed. It’s weird, but you like his smell even though he’s probably all sweaty like you. You only hope he can’t smell your sweat because there’s nothing worse than stink to someone. Not someone so handsome. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly causing you to shut your eyes. They sting as you feel tears forming in them and you know once you’ll open them, he’ll see.

“No,” You tell him stubbornly but he still stands there. You can feel his presence beside you, his hand not moving from the door. “I just want to go home.” You add weakly, almost pleading him to let you go. This is the last thing you need to feel — embarrassed in front of him once again. You hate that he even sees you being this vulnerable.

“At least let me take you home.” He says, surprising you. You slowly open your eyes, mentally thanking that your tears hasn’t fall. But you know he sees your glossy eyes when his brows furrow in worry.

“I can walk.” You murmur not really in the mood staying with him for another second. Even though you’d like that, but not under this circumstances. Not when he’s doing this because he pities you. He’ll probably laugh at you the next time you both will bicker. And you hate showing someone your weak side.

“Woman, you’re so stubborn.” He chuckles causing your lips to twitch in amusement, but it’s still enough to show some of your nonexistent happiness. Something about him calling you woman put some ease on you. Somehow, you appreciate it even though he didn’t think about his words that much.

“Thank you, but I’m gonna walk. I’ll see you next week.” You tell him quietly. From the corner of your eyes you see him hesitating. But at the end, he sighs slowly letting his hand slide against the door. He steps back giving you some space.

“Okay. Bye.” He murmurs, watching you open the door and disappear after the door closes. He stands in the practice room all alone, sighing before taking his own stuff.

“What’s taking him so long?” Yoongi exclaims annoyingly, slouched on the comfortable chair as usual not letting anyone else sit there, despite it’s not even his chair. A glass of red wine in his hand as he purses his lips in annoyance.

“Calm down, Jin is bringing that new guy he met.” Hoseok answers bringing dried sea weed in huge bowl. Jungguk immediately reaches down for it, taking a handful of it throwing it right into his mouth. He munches happily as Yoongi scoffs at him sipping his wine.

“Hyung, stop giving me that look.” Jungguk tells him, reaching for it again.

This time Hoseok slaps his hand making Jungguk pout. “Leave something for the guest.” He scolds him like some little kid he is.

“I can’t believe you’re teaching boxing others. You’re still a kid.” Yoongi comments causing Jungguk his scowl at him. He knows Yoongi is just being Yoongi, not being totally serious. He sees the small smirk on his hyung‘s lips.

“I’m not a kid, I can kick your ass.” Jungguk tells him all smugly causing Hoseok to snort at his younger brother.

Yoongi narrows his sharp eyes at him. “I can still slap you across your face.” He tells him shutting Jungguk up as he burries himself into the couch. There’s a ring bell following right after, ‘Thank god’ leaving Hoseok’s mouth as Jungguk stands up to open the door.

“Be nice.” Hoseok points his finger at Yoongi in warning when there can be heard loud voices, especially Jin’s voice. Yoongi purses his lips at Hoseok.

“I’m always nice.” He shrugs in response.

Soon enough, he is finally here and the long wait is over. Hoseok sees Jungguk, Jin slowly trailing behind him as he searches for the new guy they’ve been waiting for. But his eyes widens when he sees tall blonde man with dimple in his cheek, greeting everyone. It’s not just any guy. This guy is your friend he saw couple of times. His own eyes widens when he sees Yoongi remembering him from the party. Yoongi seems taken back as well masking it with taking a gulp of his red wine. But Namjoon’s eyes widen even more when he sees Hoseok staring at him with opened mouth.

“You?”

“Hoseok?”

They all say at the same time, causing Jungguk and Jin look at them all confused. “You know each other?” Jin asks, eyeing the both of them as Namjoon slowly nods.

“Kind of.” Namjoon mutters, clearly confused by the outcome of this night. He never thought Hoseok or Yoongi would be here. He never thought these are Jin’s friends.

Jin wants to ask more but he sees the sudden awkwardness in the air so he claps his hands loudly gaining everyone’s attention. “So, for those who don’t know Namjoon, this is Namjoon. My new... friend.” He says not clearly convinced, his ears getting little bit red.

“I think we all know him by now, Jin.” Yoongi mutters adding even more fuel to the fire, or awkwardness more like.

Thankfully, the awkwardness is soon gone as they start to play a lot of games full of Jin’s loud laughter and Jungguk’s competitive personality. Even Hoseok and Namjoon laughs at the same time, briefly chatting every now and then. Hoseok is filling another bowl of dried sea weed, Namjoon helping him with grabbing some bottles of soju.

“So, Yoongi is your friend, huh?” Namjoon asks as he opens the fridge, pulling out cans of Coca-Cola.

“Yeah.” Hoseok answers simply, throwing out the empty package.

“So, you’re the one who called Yoongi to look out for Y/N?” He asks, causing Hoseok to freeze for a moment. How the hell did the find out? He doesn’t realize he asked the question aloud until Namjoon chuckles. “I kind of figured. Y/N told me she called you while being drunk and then when I saw Yoongi here, I put two and two together.” Namjoon answers and in that moment, Hoseok thinks ‘Fuck, he’s smart’.

There’s nothing Hoseok can do, he can’t deny it so he simply nods. “Yeah, I did that,” He mutters under his breath. “But don’t tell Y/N.” He adds quickly.

Namjoon puts the cans onto the kitchen counter crossing arms over his chest. “Why not?” He asks confused watching as Hoseok sighs.

He leans onto the kitchen counter shrugging his shoulders. “Why does she has to know?” He asks back. Namjoon can see that for some reason Hoseok doesn’t want you to know the truth. Or it doesn’t even matter. What would it change? Your opinion about him? Probably not since he spent his entire morning calling with you. You complained about Hoseok how he didn’t want to continue with his practice because you were supposedly ‘tired’. You knew Hoseok was right, everything he told you. You were exhausting yourself and you could feel it. But you had to focus your anger at something and this is how you’ve dealt with it.

Namjoon sighs, not understanding the both of you since the both of you are confusing him. But he still nods, straightening his posture as he looks at Hoseok. “Well, thank you for saving her ass. She was pretty drunk.” He chuckles causing Hoseok to do the same.

“Yeah, I could hear that,” He says amusingly at the memory of your drunk voice. What have you called him? It was something about him being annoying with perfect body. “How is she?” He asks suddenly, his amusement fading as he looks at Namjoon.

“What do you mean? She’s fine,” Namjoon answers confusingly. That’s when Hoseok realize he doesn’t know about your recent behavior. You didn’t tell him. “Did something happen?” He asks, his overly protective side stepping out.

“No, I’m just asking.” Hoseok answers but Namjoon doesn’t buy it. He knows something.

“Is this about you not letting her finish her practice? Did you guys fight?” He asks remembering you calling Hoseok ‘jerk’ and ‘idiot with perfect body’ but he never thought it’s that deep.

“What? How do you know?” Hoseok exclaims loudly not believing his own ears. You already bad mouthed him again?

“She was pretty angry about it. What did you do to her?” Namjoon asks, not liking the thought of Hoseok mistreating you. You’re his best friend after all. He doesn’t care Hoseok is Jin’s friend. He can kick his ass no matter what even if he isn’t really a type of guy to do that.

“Me?” Hoseok exclaims almost angrily, Namjoon’s eyes widening for a bit. He’s scary when he’s angry. Now he knows what you talked about him being angry. “She was dehydrated refusing to take a break and she almost fainted. I’ve never seen her so pale and exhausted. Believe me, I know pretty well when someone needs rest.” Hoseok tells him through his teeth, angry that Namjoon even assumed he did something to you. Yeah, you annoyed him most of the time but he’d never purposely hurt you. At least not like this.

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N at all. Why would she do something like that?” Namjoon mutters not believing Hoseok’s words. But his whole face is filled with honesty and Namjoon can see how riled up he got. He obviously isn’t lying. And if he is, he’s pretty good at it.

“Because— I don’t know.” Hoseok catches himself not to spill the truth. You didn’t tell Namjoon, that means you don’t want him to know. And Hoseok doesn’t want to be the one to tell him. It’s not his place to do so.

Namjoon seems deep in thought before he simply sighs. “Well... thanks for not letting her to continue. She’s really stubborn sometimes.”

“It’s my job.” Hoseok mutters as he grabs the bowl helping Namjoon with a few bottles of soju as they both join their group of friends.

“Is he going to be there?” You ask grumpily. Would it be weird if you’d just jump back into Namjoon’s car and disappear so you could avoid this awkward meeting?

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” Namjoon shakes his head at you in disapproval. He told you he went to see Jin’s friends and funnily enough, mind the sarcasm, Hoseok is apparently very close to Jin. So after avoiding Namjoon the whole week, drowning yourself in depression, he picked you up from your sofa and gave you an hour to get ready. Apparently he wanted you to introduce Jin and his friends.

“No?” You ask unsure with your answer. Of course it matters! You haven’t talked to him ever since you practically escaped from the studio, too embarrassed to even think about it. You were preparing to meet him next week, not expecting to see him way sooner. But maybe, just maybe he won’t be here. “I’m not even hungry. What am I doing here?” You grumble, ignoring the stare Namjoon gave you.

The truth is, you’re really hungry. You haven’t eaten ever since this morning, minus the small apple you ate. Your stomach is basically screaming for you to give it some food and needed nutrition. And of course, you’re going to have Korean barbecue. Your stomach is growling just at the sight of the place you’re going to. “You don’t have to eat then. You’re here to meet Jin and get your ass out of your small apartment.” He tells you as he opens the door for you, letting you to be the first one to come in.

You thank him but still frown at him. “Leave my apartment alone.” You scold him, pointing a warning finger at him.

“Then stop complaining.” He grumbles, his hand on your lower back slowly guiding you through the tables.

“Stop complaining? What? You little—“

“You came!” Someone’s loud voice cuts you off, fortunately for Namjoon and you look at the tall man hovering over you. He’s beautiful. He wears a nice baby blue sweater hugging his broad shoulders. What a shoulders. His plump lips stretches into a kind smirk as he stretches his hand towards you. “You must be Y/N.” He says with buttery voice causing you to blush as you take his hand.

“Yeah, hi. You must be.. Jin?” You ask shyly, ignoring the others eyes on you. You still haven’t look towards their table, Jin’s presence completely distracting you. He’s very familiar to you since you’ve seen him that night in the club, but this time there’s no shitty lighting and you’ve pretty much good view at him.

“Yes, that’s me,” He laughs, smiling at Namjoon as you smirk seeing Namjoon’s red cheeks. “Please, meet my friends.” He says motioning for you to sit and also towards the three pair of eyes looking at you.

And maybe it’s karma or whatever you want to call it — but you automatically meet with powerful deep brown eyes looking straight through you. Hoseok.

“What’s with your eyes guys? Do you know each other?” Jin asks as all of you sit down, noticing the strange look you’re exchanging with Hoseok.

“Yeah, Y/N is in my class.” Hoseok mumbles in response, sipping something which seems like soju.

“Ah, isn’t this great?” Jin exclaims happily, completely obvious to the awkward atmosphere in the room. He’s quick to start talking, mostly telling some dad jokes which you must admit are funny. It’s just one guy in the corner staring at him, shaking his head disapprovingly when he tells another of one of his jokes. What was his name? He hasn’t introduced himself to you and Jin forgot when he realized you and Hoseok know each other. Jungguk was the only one who actually shook your hand with polite smile, introducing himself. As if he can feel your eyes, his eyes adverts to you. His look full of confidence as he raises on brow in question. He’s familiar.

“Have we met before?” You ask him, thankfully the rest of the boys too deep in some conversation to acknowledge you and him.

“We did.” He answers casually making you cock your head in question at him.

“What was your name again?” You ask trying to put puzzle pieces together. You swear you’ve seen him somewhere but it’s all blurry.

“I should be offended that you don’t remember me,” He chuckles amusingly causing you to chuckle back. “Yoongi.” He answers, introducing himself meanwhile Jin is putting the pork belly on the grill. At least this conversation distracts you from the amazing smell.

“I’m—“

“Y/N, yeah I know.” He smiles letting you know, that he really does know you. You’re opening your mouth to question him — where did you met, but Jin’s loud voice startles you as he’s doing a wrap with pork belly putting kimchi, spring onion and different kinds of side dish in it. When he’s finally done, he holds it out for you. You eye his hand, your stomach begging to take it and eat it.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” You tell him, politely declining him as he pouts. Although he doesn’t pressure you, passing the wrap into Namjoon’s mouth who takes it more than happily. You ignore the look across the table Hoseok’s giving you. You avoid his eyes sipping on your water with ice.

“Hey, you okay?” Hoseok asks across the table, the sound of boy’s conversation and frying meat doesn’t make his voice stand out too much.

You look at him, noticing his knowing look. Of course he won’t let go what happened earlier. You knew he’d treat you differently. “I am.” You nod, smiling somehow weirdly at him thinking that’ll convince him. His expression is neutral and he doesn’t push you into anything, simply nodding reaching for a lettuce to make him own wrap. You watch him putting all kinds of side dishes into it, your stomach grumbling. You quickly touch it praying no one heard it, your hands already comforting it. You watch him as he’s done preparing it making it as a big wrap. You wait for him to eat it but you’re surprised when he doesn’t open his mouth and hands it to you instead.

You eye the wrap, a pork belly with kimchi peeking out of it causing you to unconsciously lick your lips. God, you’re hungry. “I’m not hungry.” You mumble but you’re met with his stubborn eyes as he narrows them at you.

“I can see the drools in the corner of your lips.” He says and you automatically go and reach for it, just to find your lips dry. He got you. You roll your eyes at him as he looks at you with his ‘I know you’re bluffing’ look.

“I told you that I’m not hungry.” You tell him annoyed. He sighs, eating the wrap himself while he rolls his eyes at you. Great, now both of you are annoyed.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Namjoon asks you once the two of you are alone, away from the amazing and delicious smell of different kinds of meal. It was awkward to hang out with Hoseok when he spent the rest of the night giving you glances. It felt like he’s checking your every move and you had the feeling that he knows much more than you think he does. It almost felt like he’s exposing you and reading you like an opened book.

“Mhm..” You mumble not really agreeing with him. Well, Jin and Jungguk were really nice, making laugh everyone in the group. Yoongi was mostly quiet and looked somehow mysterious. “Hey, do you know that Yoongi guy?” You ask before he Namjoon can scold you for your previous answer. Obviously, he had a lot of fun with the guys, especially with Jin. You caught them whispering something to each other couple of times.

“I don’t really know him, but I’ve seen him before.” He answers somehow unsurely, checking your face before quickly adverting his eyes elsewhere. And in that moment you know that he’s hiding something.

“Where?” You ask, scowling at him letting him know he better not lie and tell you the truth. Namjoon sighs, knowing if Hoseok know he’d probably flip out since he didn’t want you to know.

“That night in the club where I met Jin. Yoongi was there. He’s the owner of the club I think.” He answers and you open your mouth.

“Okay and how does he know me? I don’t really remember talking with him. But he does look very familiar.” You state with puzzled look.

“He’s the one who found you when you went outside. If he didn’t find you I don’t know what would happen to you,” He explains honestly. You stay quiet and he can practically sees the wheels working in your head. He sighs dramatically causing you to look at him. “Okay. Hoseok is the one who called Yoongi to get you.” He spills so quickly, you’re unsure if you’ve heard him correctly.

“Wait? What? Hoseok?” You almost screech wondering if Namjoon is bluffing or something, but he isn’t.

“Yeah. You called him while you were drunk, remember? Well, I think he probably asked you where you were and when he figured out you’re at his friend’s bar he called him to get you. Thank god, he did that.” He explains and you scrunch your face in confusion.

“Why would he do something like that?” You ask much more to yourself. Ever since you’ve known Hoseok he hasn’t been very fond of you and the same thing goes for you. Despite you knowing that, your heart unwillingly flatters at the new information.

“He isn’t that bad, you know?” Namjoon chirps somehow careful in case you’d snap at him.

“Are you telling I lied to you?” You exclaim making your best friend shrug his head. When you gave him your nastiest face he quickly goes to defend himself.

“No, I just think the thing both of you are having is completely unnecessary. Hoseok is really a great guy.” You open your mouth at him, hearing him defending the devil itself. Yeah, it’s a nice feeling knowing what he has done for you. But why does he keeps treating you like that? But you can’t help and think about your latest dance practice when he genuinely looked concerned with you. He put your rivalry or whatever the two of you have, aside and made sure you’re okay. The same thing happened when he defended you in front of your mother. Why are you realizing this just now?

“You don’t know him the way I do...” Is the only thing you say to him, too deep in your thoughts as the realization slowly hits you. Maybe Hoseok isn’t that bad after all.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Namjoon says quietly but you ignore him — too deep in your thoughts to realize what he actually meant.

#bts smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jung hoseok au #bts fluff #bts angst #personasintro #bts au #bts scenario #bts request

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op-peccatori · 5 years

Text

just your friendly neighbourhood demon | Incubus?Lucien (MLQC)

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Incubus?Lucien/Witch!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: explicit sex, semi-public sex, sex with demons, magical adjustments

Summary: You’ve barely left your apartment since your breakup a month ago. To get you back in the game and your mind off your disappointing relationship, your friends decide to enlist some help – the demonic kind.

a/n: can u tell I just finished the second season of the chilling adventures of Sabrina? it's heavily inspired by the show.

music:

Animals by Maroon 5

Fetish by Selena Gomez

You stand still amongst the crowd, bodies clothed in silk and lace twirling around you, the chatter a muted sound in the background when you see him.

A feeling of trepidation crawls up your belly and the bodice of your gown feels suffocating all of a sudden. You glance around the great hall wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friends, the ones who dragged you here with promises of unholy merriment and daiquiris. The ceiling, enchanted to reflect a cloudless midnight sky, bathes the room in soft moonlight, adding to the shadowy and mystifying atmosphere of the room. All you see are masks, framing intoxicated eyes, some of them reflecting the faux hellfire hovering within antique lanterns.

You don’t see your friends, but do you manage to lock eyes with the source of your panic who, despite the delicate mask covering your face that clearly wasn’t doing its job, recognizes you at once. He turns to say something to the girl next to him and as they both look at you, you turn around and half-sprint towards the nearest hallway.

‘Vivienne. She’s from the Eastern Coven.’

It stings, even though it’s been weeks since your relationship ended. It’s the ball of hurt and bitterness swirling in your stomach, that prevents you from turning around at the call of your name, that has your fingers twitching with the urge to hex the person you know is following you.

His voice is getting nearer, and you can’t help but turn around to check if he’s really coming after you – he is, but he’s struggling to move past the dancing couples and as you turn around with your heart in your throat, you manage to run into a wall. You're startled by the sudden appearance of a dead-end, but slender fingers curl around your forearm to let you know it’s not a wall that stopped your escape in its tracks.

“Ah, forgive me. Are you alright?” A voice richer than vintage vine at your ear, and cologne that reminds you distinctly of rain, and smoke are the first things that register. Warm eyes like amethysts, framed by inky bangs and black lace are next. You’re aware that he’s waiting for a response, his gentle smile slipping into something quizzical at your gaping. This is not someone you've seen before.

“Hey, ___!”

Oh no. The man in front of you glances at the one behind you before returning his gaze to your now resigned expression. You turn around with a grimace, hoping your reluctance to talk to him isn’t too obvious, even if it's to be expected.

“Oh, hi, Kyle,” you say, defeated. “Sorry, I was-“

“In a hurry to find me,” the stranger cuts in with a disarming smile aimed at your ex-boyfriend, whose eager expression fades at the sight of your unexpected companion. Kyle’s eyes follow the other man's arm as it slides loosely around your waist. "We were in the middle of a game."

“Oh. Right. And you are?” Everyone knows what kind of games people play here.

“Um, this is-“

“Lucien.” You’re weak with gratitude when the stranger, Lucien, introduces himself and offers a hand to Kyle, who takes it with mild reluctance. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise. I’m Kyle,” he says before glancing at you as if expecting you to add something, which you're certainly not obligated to do. He tugs at the high collar of his cape when all you do is lean into Lucien’s side with a smile. “Um, yeah, I just wanted to say hi. Enjoy the party. And your game, I guess.”

‘I guess?’ You watch him leave with silently, knowing he's bothered by you coming here with someone. You marvel at how oblivious he can be, to be so baffled by it when he could be seen with different witches even just a week after you ended things for good. And you know that there was a time when the slight slouch in his back could tip you off to his bad mood and have you running around trying to fix whatever had him in a sulk. You had made countless comforting charms, helped him with ridiculous missions and saved his ass from being eviscerated that one time he pissed off your High Priestess – only to get an 'I don't think we're compatible' the one time you didn't show up to watch his band play.

Ugh, warlocks.

“Charming man,” Lucien comments when Kyle is out of hearing range, skulking back to the girl he’d been talking to earlier. You can’t help but laugh a little self-deprecatingly.

“Yes, well, I certainly thought so, until a few weeks back,” you admit with a sigh. Then, realising you’re still leaning into him as if you haven’t just met him, you step away hastily. He looks disappointed at that, and you're quick to change the subject. “Oh, yes, thank you. I really didn’t want to face him on my own." The warmth in his smile tugs at your withered heart-strings.

"I think he should be the one saying that, but I suppose it is usually the ignorant ones who are brimming with false confidence."

"I really owe you one, huh?" You're startled by the shyness in your own smile. Something about him feels overwhelming, as if it's being kept at bay so he can blend in. With the sleek grey suit he's wearing, you think he never had a chance. Talk about tall, dark and wicked. Kiki's going to flip when she sees him.

“I’m honoured to have gotten the chance to come to your aid. And, to be honest, I can't help but be glad your former lover is an idiot. He did chase you into my arms after all." The curve of his mouth is sly as he watches the way your cheeks flush. "I’m Lucien, by the way.”

“I’m ___.” You offer him your hand, but you don’t expect the way he maintains eye contact as he ducks his head to press his lips to the top of your hand, his half-lidded gaze doing funny things to you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he cast a spell on you. Your heart throbs to an unsteady rhythm as he lifts his hand to skin a finger along the edge of your mask.

"I like your mask."

"I like your mask too," you tell him, your smile hinting at mischief. "It's quite...infernal."

His low chuckle, accompanied by the crook of his arm offered to you, makes you fight the urge to check for hexes. “Well, ___, since I’m supposed to be your plus one...can I get you a drink?”

As you blush and say yes, curling your arm around his, you miss the two witches watching you both with triumphant grins. Willow clamps a hand over Kiki’s mouth as you pass by the pillar behind which they’ve concealed themselves, biting back her own squeal when Lucien looks straight at them and winks. They undo the concealment spell and school their expressions into something more innocent than smug as their High Priestess raises a brow at their antics.

"But Willow, how did you get him to make a deal without payment?" Kiki asks curiously, pouring them both some toxic punch. Willow shrugs a bit uneasily, glancing back at at the bar where you're standing next to your new friend, an easy smile she hasn't seen in weeks lighting up your face.

"He just said there's no need for it, and that he'll take care of her." They both look at each other at that.

"Is that...safe?" Kiki watches as Kyle continues to glance at you, looking grumpier with each look. "I think this could be good."

"I hope so. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Three poison apple cocktails have you pleasantly buzzed, tucked away in one of the several alcoves with your unexpected date, giggling helplessly as he whispers awful things in your ears; secrets about the High Priests/Priestesses leave his mouth with no trace of fear, and when you ask if he isn't scared they'll hear him, the laugh that tears from his throat has you shivering under his arm. The window seat is big enough for four people, but with the way he's stretched out over the cushion, with you hidden away in his arms - it's clear there's no room for anyone else. The thick velvet curtains at the entryway are drawn to ensure others know not to disturb the occupants.

“No, darling, I don’t...fear your leaders," he finally answers as he nuzzles your neck. You take his hand in your own, playing with his fingers as you think. Witches and Warlocks are taught to fear their leaders, to respect them above all others, regardless of how undeserving they may be.

Your head tilts as you study him carefully. There is a single lantern in this corner, the hellfire burning softly as if in response to the intimate atmosphere. “You’re not from any of the covens, are you?”

“What do you think?” he asks, his breath cool against your cheek, mouth quirking up at the burning curiosity in your eyes.

A nonconformist. An independent warlock? Clearly held in high enough regard for no one to bat an eyelid at his presence here, but still. For him to also be familiar enough with the coven leaders to know their dirty secrets - he's no simple loner. His fingers trace unknown patterns at the base of your spine, brushing kisses like feathers on your temple.

“I don’t think you fear anyone in this room,” you say honestly, and when he presses his mouth to yours, it’s with a laugh that sinks into your bones like fire a glyph.

You're not sure how much time passes, but when you finally surface with a breathless the party has settled into a low chatter and you're vaguely surprised no one came to find you. Your mouth feels numb, and when you glance at your hazy reflection in the window, your lips are bitten a bright red, and blushing bruises decorate the tender spots below your jaw and along your neck. You feel as if you're just waking up, spotting your mask on the floor and feeling a cool breeze on your shoulders where the straps have been pulled down.

Lucien watches you as you take note of everything, including his abandoned topcoat, half-unbuttoned shirt and - the crinkles by his eyes as he smiles at you and the high, sculpted cheekbones you remembered kissing. His mask is off and with it, the protective shield of hidden faces and identities. You feel it - the strange tingling of your senses, the barely caught flashes in his eyes whenever you moaned as he was kissing you. It's all coming together in a picture you're not sure what to make of.

"What are you?" you ask shakily, mostly because of your own throbbing arousal that hasn't ebbed with your dawning suspicion. Thrilling fear curls around the base of your spine, edged with excitement. You don't feel like you're in danger, even if Lucien kisses with the intent to devour.

He smirks knowingly at your attempt to sound wary, when it's clear you're trying to keep from continuing your slow, delicious grind along his crotch. You're not sure what broke you out of the daze, and you're not sure if you're thankful for it.

"What do you think I am?"

You scrunch up your nose, yelping when he tries to nip at it. "My first guess would be...incubus?" You're not alarmed - dalliances with the so-called sex demons were not unheard of. They usually don't bother with witches or their counterparts because they never get a proper meal out of it, just a light snack at most, as your magic makes you resistant to their lure and traps. Questionable at the moment, but you're pretty sure you remember everything that happened despite the drugged feeling.

"I see."

You wait for him to continue but he only tilts his head with an innocent smile, his thumb tracing soft patterns on the inside of your wrist, your pulse fluttering under his touch. "Well? Am I right?" you ask, trying not to huff. Sex addicts or not, they're still powerful demons.

He shrugs. "Sure, let's go with incubus." Before you can express fully your outrage at his non-committal tone, he pulls you back into a loose embrace, making you stumble into his chest. "I believe the more important question is - will you allow me to make love to you tonight?" His words are blunt, delivered with a lascivious smile and a soft kiss below your ear. "Will you let me taste you?"

"Wh-what?" you ask, admittedly dumbly, not expecting him to want to continue where you left off. You brace your hand against his abdomen, feeling the muscle ripple as he continues to pull you closer. "But I'm a witch."

"A beautiful one," he agrees.

"You won't get anything out of it," you can't help but point out, lips parting when you feel his mouth on your skin, wet and wanting.

"On the contrary, darling," he whispers as he licks at the marks he'd sucked into your skin so fervently. "I think I might cry if you deny me."

You take a moment to weigh your options. On the one hand, dealing with demons always has some kind of consequences. You're not sure which one this is, how dangerous, how revered. On the other hand - he is very attractive, a fantastic kisser and clearly wants to take you to bed. You don't know anyone who's taken a demon as a lover personally but the one thing everyone agrees on is that you can't top sex with an incubus. They will show you a good time or they will take up unreasonable amounts of time trying.

And now that you're no longer with the man, you can admit to yourself that sex with Kyle was mediocre at best. Looking at it that way- you haven't had a good fuck in years.

"What if I choose to send you away?" you ask carefully. He stills at your question, his eyes burning violently as they meet yours. The air between you grows heavy, tense with his magic and yours as if dreading an explosion. He wants you, badly. And you’re confused at the strength of his desire, but flattered all the same.

"Then I will leave you here in peace," he answers slowly. The curl of his mouth is anything but pleased. "And hope that your fingers can give you at least a quarter of the pleasure that I can." You relax at his words, knowing that you won't be spending the night with your fingers buried in you. Not unless that's something he likes.

"And if we continue...will I get into trouble?" you ask, your answer evident by the way you move back into straddling his hips. He tugs at the zipper of your dress, unzipping it smoothly, caressing your smooth skin worshipfully.

"Only the good kind,” he promises. His eyes are fixated on the slow reveal of your breasts, and a string of unintelligible words leave his mouth when the top of your dress is bunched around your waist, leaving you half-exposed to his wolfish stare. The moment his mouth is on you, you know you won't be leaving this corner anytime soon. Struggling to tilt your head back as his tongue flicks at a taut nipple, you lift your hand towards the slim entryway, throwing every privacy spell you know at it. You feel the way Lucien smiles against your skin.

"Don't worry, darling. No one will be disturbing us - unlike some of my friends, I don't share." The last words are said in a growl that sends arousal thrumming within your bones, before he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh above your breast. You let your head fall back with a groan, uncaring of anything except his mouth and the friction provided by your sex grinding on his. He kisses you again and again until you're drunk on desire, moaning and writhing in his hold as two of his fingers push into you, sliding in and out easily within your slick walls while his tongue dances across your breasts, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

Lucien tugs at the hem of your dress, pulling it up to your hips before he pushes you down onto the seat. He kneels between your legs, admiring the flimsy lace of your thong as he presses cool kisses behind your knees, over them, curling your thighs over his shoulders. He bends over to tug at the edge of your underwear with his teeth before he rips it off, dropping it on the floor so he can finally, finally begin to lick into your dripping cunt, his actions akin to a starved man given access to a feast. The drag of his tongue along your slit feels odd for a moment, too wide, too rough, as if it's not...

Oh.

You lean up onto your elbows, your breath suspended in your lungs, and he looks at you from beneath lowered lashes - what little you see of his eyes is a bright, violent red, glazed over at the taste of your arousal. The curve of his mouth widens and, sure enough, you feel his chilly tongue much further in than it should be, curving within you to stroke sensitive spots and you fall back with a startled cry as your orgasm washes upon you unexpectedly.

He laps at you hungrily, his shoulders trembling with want, with his frayed control. He slides his mouth to your fleshy thighs, sucking and rubbing his cheek into your warm skin as you take a moment to breathe. And then his mouth closes around your swollen clit, a sharp tooth scraping against it and you scream as jolt after jolt of pleasure assaults your body again, throwing your head back and digging your feet into the wide expanse of his back against the wild pleasure.

You try to squirm out of his hold, whimpering at how sensitive it feels, but his hold is iron around you, keeping you spread open for him to consume.

"You taste better than I imagined, darling," he croons, rising up to return to his kneeling position, letting you glimpse his mouth, glistening with your essence and his teeth, sharper than before and you're impressed at the lack of injuries where they just were. "But I think there are too many layers between us."

"I - can't argue with that." And you're quick to finish unbuttoning his silk shirt, mouthing at his collarbone as you work, licking up the slender slope of his neck before he catches your mouth in another kiss, which you barely break as you help him slip you out of your dress and unbutton his pants. "Oh...fuck."

He laughs at your response to his sizable cock, but you're not nearly as amused. You've heard what people say about them, but this? "This is not going to fit." It's pale and much larger than the average, normal cock.

"It will," he assures you with a devilish smile. "And you're going to enjoy it. Don’t worry – I’m going to fuck you real good, darling.” He rubs the length of his cock along your entrance for emphasis, coating it with your wetness as he nudges your legs so you wrap them around his waist. “You like it slow, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Then show me,” you gasp as his length rubs against your clit. He smiles at your demand, sweeping your hair away from your forehead.

“As you wish.” With that, he pushes into you, and your breath freezes at the feel of his wide head entering you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever felt in your heat and for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll break you. It feels colder than flesh, as it stretches your slick folds open. “Look at me, ___.”

His strain is shown in the bulging vein at his neck, the way the purple-grey of his eyes has once again given way to a savage red, and in the way he fights to keep from snarling at how vulnerable you look, with his cock about to spear you.

“Good girl – don’t look away, there, keep looking at me,” he murmurs, voice cracking as he pushes deeper with shallow thrusts. And it burns, you feel fuller the deeper he slides in, as if you’re going to come apart at the seams, and still – you want more. Until you can’t take any more without shattering. You whimper, moan and buck your hips, with Lucien drinking it all in with a smile that slowly edges into something feral. “Breathe.”

Over half of his thick length is in, your walls clamping down tightly with the force of your helplessness. Your hands dig into the seat. “Lu-Lucien, I don’t think I can take anymore.”

His lips press into the hollow of your throat, humming a soft, broken tune before the words come out, in the same indecipherable language from before a cool whisper against your skin. He keeps pushing and pushing, and your heart seizes in your throat before you realize the discomfort has eased. He slides the rest of the way in, sheathing himself in your silky heat, and you’re not entirely sure how he’s fit himself, what spell he used, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you push up into him. You meet his gaze with a slow grin, squeezing your walls around him as tightly as you can.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest, bordering on a purr, as his thumbs press into the crease of your hips, leaning forward until your legs are bent on either side of you, thighs nearly touching the cushion under you. He grinds into you until your skin meets his, transitioning into delicate thrusts, gauging your reaction, testing angles, noting what makes your eyes roll back, what makes you plead, what makes your hips buck up despite his tight hold on your legs.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even Lilith herself would kill to get a taste of you,” he groans, static energy crackling in the air, and your own blood sings as it rises to the surface to respond, in a song it's never sung before, one you didn't know it could sing. The lantern vibrates as the fire it holds surges to life, barely contained by the protective glass, trying to break free and curl around your fingertips. Lucien is fixated on what he sees in your eyes, stilling his thrusts as he stares down at you. You bite back a sound of frustration, something inside you curling inwards at how he studies it through the shield of your flesh.

“Lilith won’t have me.” Your hand winds around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a long kiss with clashing teeth and tongue. “And I need you to fuck me.”

He pulls out halfway in response, before snapping his hips into yours, repeating the motion until your hold on him falters, and there are tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. It’s a slow ascent, the force of his thrusts getting harder and harder until you’re sure he’s going to break you in half. His arms curl around you and pull you flush against his body, and the slow drag of his skin against your overstimulated bundle of nerves makes you come with a sob, and he fucks you through that too.

This might be why they say it takes some time to recover from intercourse with demons.

He shows no sign of stopping even as he sits back into his knees, with you clinging onto him for dear life as he thrusts up from a new angle, repeatedly impaling you on his cock. His eyes are wild, reverent, hinting at obsession. You won’t last too long, you know that. Already, things are getting blurry as another orgasm creeps upon you, and you know this one will end you.

“Lucien...” you croak, your head lolling back and your chest heaving. You meet his gaze and it’s as if something takes a hold of you, slithering between your ribs to give you the strength to push your hips down, circling them with his every thrust and reaching down to work your clit until everything is awash in bright light, making you wonder if the unholy one has come for you – then you feel how he throbs in you, painting your furiously fluttering walls, filling you up with his seed until it’s dripping from your cunt down his cock. “I...”

“We’re not done yet, darling,” he breathes into your hair, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes. It's as if a mask has fallen away from his face, leaving behind the untamed parts that could burn if you aren't careful. “Focus on your home. I’m taking us there.”

You do so with your head tucked under his chin, while he grabs your clothes and undoes the privacy ward. And then, with a blink, you’re in your bedroom, with your messy bed and scattered knickknacks. The moon is bright outside your massive window, and Lucien is transfixed by the way you glow in the silvery light, your eyes fighting to stay open and your limbs shaking with strain. You fall onto your familiar, soft mattress with a sigh, drifting contentedly as Lucien presses soft kisses into the dimples in your back. The frenzied air between you seems to have settled for the moment, letting you breathe and appreciate the way he touches you in the silence, like you're art, a sculpture he's allowed to touch after an eternity of being denied.

“I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admit with a defeated sigh, rolling over onto your back and watching in amusement as his eyes light up at the sight of your bare breasts. He begins to nuzzle them instantly, lying down beside you and slipping a leg between yours, pulling you closer.

“That’s fine, I can wait until you recover,” Lucien says readily. He vanishes the cool, thick seed still drying on your skin with a wave of his hand and reaches for the thin blanket folded at the end of the bed. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

You pause, surprised that he’s not leaving, and by the way he clings to you. “I didn’t know demons like to cuddle.”

“We fuck. We cuddle. We’re not all that different.” He says it casually, but he’s got to be joking. He’s a fantastic lover, but you haven’t forgotten the fact that he’s an immortal being capable of erasing you with a snap of his fingers.

'Maybe it's because I'm not a mortal?'

Said immortal being is currently planting soft kisses in the valley of your breasts, making it hard to hold onto your previous notions of awe and terror. As your mind fades into the darkness, he begins to hum the same broken tune from before, and you wonder what magic he’s weaving now. His eyes, now a dim red as they watch you intensely, are the last thing you see before a numbing sleep steals you away.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc xu mo

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