#my heart was once so cold and hardened and I am trying to soften it because I choose to believe in love..

[00nutritionalvalue]

It is not time nor space that I fear, for Love transcends them It is not possession of your heart I yearn for, but to fill it with my love and my being It is not the jewels of this world from you I seek, but that of your mind and the tenderness of your touch It is not your freedom I wish to take, but your sovereignty maintain It is not distress, but peace that I pray to descend upon you Only truth do I long to hear, for my ears are  now deafened to the cries of falsehood Only truth do I intend to speak, for my tongue is the sword that will cut the ties of deception Only truth do my eyes now behold, for in it, illusion cannot be Only love it is I wish to give, Only love it is I wish for you to know For only in Love is ecstasy found In the depth of your eyes, destiny I have glimsped In the sweetness of your kiss, intimacy I have known In the beat of your heart, compassion I have heard In the safety of your arms, refuge I have taken In the closeness of our flesh, flames of passion I have fanned If, in my silence, it is solace you have found, then no more words to you from my lips shall part If in my absence it is joy you feel, then far from you I will remain But if in my words you have found resonance, then my truth I will continue to utter If in my company, it is comfort you have felt, then by your side I will always be Do you see now how I love you, Unconditionally Beauty lies in what is real I say to you now, this is real. Faith and hope are the bridge to my love, Would you cross it? Millions of stars watch over you, Shining rays of fortune, Casting out the darkness of fear I pray their Light illuminates each and every step of your way Guiding you night and day Hear my words Deny them if you please But in me, love you will always find Only Love, for you there will be

[goldfades]

PARDON MY EMOTIONS / I SHOULD PROBABLY KEEP IT ALL TO MYSELF ── 𝐉𝐁⁵

❪ requested -> "jude angst to fluff WITH PLOT!" ❫

─ pairing | jude bellingham x fem!reader

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | lots of angst to fluff, miscommunication (kind of), jude being an ASSHOLE but making up for it.

─ ev's notes ! | i'm now in my football kick due to the euros and copa america so please send in requests!!! 🤗🎀

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP with England's star football player had its ups and downs.

You got to be a WAG, enjoying the glamorous lifestyle that came with dating Jude. From attending high-profile matches and exclusive events to traveling the world and mingling with other footballers and celebrities, life was never boring. The media attention was overwhelming at times, but you learned to navigate the spotlight and maintain a sense of normalcy.

However, that was the problem. You longed for a sense of normalcy, that was all you wanted was for your relationship. The glitz and glamour of being a WAG was only fun for a bit, not it seemed like you never got a moment to yourself. This was the root of all your relationships, somehow ─ Jude never understood why you wouldn't like all the media attention.

"It's overwhelming," you muttered as you played with the bottom of your of your coffee cup, the warm ceramic providing little comfort. Jude sat across from you, his expression both of concern and confusion.

"What do you mean, overwhelming?" He replied, his gaze locked on you. "This is part of the life we have. The attention, the media... it's just something we have to deal with."

You sighed, looking out the window at the city outside. "But that's just it, Jude. I never wanted this. I love you, and I support your career, but I miss having a private life. I miss being able to go out without cameras following us or people recognizing us everywhere we go."

"Overwhelming for you?" He sighed, his expression hardening. "How do you think I feel? Look, I'm not asking for much ─ I've given you the best life I can,"

You scoffed, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. "This isn't about you or-or what you've given me. I'm grateful, I really am-"

"Doesn't sound like it," Jude cut you off, his voice rising in frustration. "It sounds like you're not happy with anything I've done."

You felt a surge of anger, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. "That's not fair, Jude," you sighed. "I've been by your side through everything, and all I'm asking for is a little understanding. I need space, I need to feel like my own person, not just an accessory to your life."

Jude stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "So, what? You want me to quit football? Give up everything I've worked for?"

"No!" You stood up as well, your heart pounding. "I don't want you to give up anything. I just want you to see things from my perspective for once. I'm losing myself in all of this, and I feel like an accessory you just get to show off."

"Well, you know that's not true," his eyes softened for a moment, but then the frustration returned. "I thought we were a team. I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're just... giving up."

"I'm not giving up," you said, your voice breaking. "It's hard for me too, like I'm just a pretty face with no dreams or aspirations. That's what they think-"

"Who cares what they think? I know you're more than that, everyone you care about knows that." Jude let out a huff as he glared at you.

"Well it's always just been about you, Jude," you didn't mean it to come out so harsh ─ your tone hard and cold. "Moving to Spain and-and all this, it's hard on me too."

That seemed to hit a nerve because Jude's eyes went wide before he scoffed. "You think this has been easy for me? You think moving to a different country, dealing with the pressure of a new team, and trying to keep us together is all about me?"

You flinched at his words, but your frustration was too strong to back down now. "That's not what I'm saying, Jude. I just want you to see that I'm struggling too. I left everything behind to be with you. My friends, my family, my life — everything."

Jude's face softened slightly, but his jaw was still tight with anger. "I need you to understand that this life comes with sacrifices. We both have to make them, this is what you signed up for."

"I know that, Jude," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you sniffled. "But sometimes it feels like I'm the only one sacrificing. I feel like I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to fix it."

You wiped away a tear before continuing, averting your gaze from Jude. "I just need to feel like I'm more than just your girlfriend. I need to feel like I have my own purpose."

"You are!" Jude snapped, before sighing.

You sent him a glare as you sighed loudly, getting tired of not being heard. "Don't raise your voice!"

"You're being ungrateful, I've given you everything! A nice house, a nice car, you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?"

That was the last straw. Your mouth was slightly agape as you took in his words. Ungrateful? How could he say that after everything you've sacrificed to be with him?

"Fuck," you sighed as you looked up, meeting his gaze. "Is that how low you think of me? Fine, then. Let them have my position, since apparently, you think I'm just here for the perks," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

Jude's face fell, a mixture of regret and panic crossing his features. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just frustrated. I love you, and I want us to be happy."

You shook your head, taking a step back. "That's not enough, Jude. Love isn't just about the nice things or the glamorous life. It's about understanding each other. And right now, I don't feel understood."

"That's not what I meant," Jude sighed as he began rubbing his temple. "Jesus, I need some space from you."

You glared as he grabbed his keys from the counter and you watched him walk out of the room, feeling your stomach twist in anxiety and hurt. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen. Tears streamed down your face as you sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the argument pressing down on you.

You sat there for a while, trying to process everything that had just happened. The love you had for Jude was undeniable, but the constant feeling of being misunderstood was taking its toll. You needed to find a way to reclaim your sense of self, to feel heard in your relationship.

After a few moments, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath. You needed to do something, anything, to clear your mind. You decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help you think more clearly. Grabbing your jacket, you stepped outside and started walking aimlessly through the streets of the city.

As you walked, you reflected on your relationship with Jude. There had been so many beautiful moments, but lately, it seemed like the challenges were overshadowing the good times. You loved him deeply, but you needed to find a way to communicate better, to make him understand how you felt without it turning into a fight.

After a while, you headed back home, feeling a bit more centered. When you entered the apartment, you heard the TV and sighed. You took off your jacket and made your way to the living room, your gaze landing on Jude was too immersed in the show he was watch to realize you'd come home.

He finally met your gaze and instantly muted the TV, the tension palpable as you walked toward him.

"Hey," you whispered as he gave you a small smile.

He tapped to the spot next to him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitated for a moment before joining him on the couch, the silence between you heavy with tension.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I've been thinking about what you said."

You nodded, your heart aching at the sight of his earnest expression. "Me too. I just... I need you to understand how hard this is for me."

Jude took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. "I know I've been incredibly fucking selfish, and I haven't been listening to you. I didn't realize how much you were sacrificing and how it was affecting you until now and... and I'm sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. "I appreciate that, Jude. I love you, but I need to find my own way, to have something that's mine."

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I get that. And I want to help you find that. We can work on this together, maybe you can look into things that interest you here, find something that makes you happy."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I’d like that. And maybe we can set some boundaries with the media, try to keep our private life a bit more private."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jude agreed, his eyes shining with determination. "I'll talk to my manager and see what we can do about that. Your happiness is important to me... you are important to me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of reassurance. "Thank you, Jude. I just want us to be happy together, without all the pressure and stress."

He kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you protectively. "We will, I promise."

"I love you, a lot," Jude continued, his voice soft. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I was just angry. I don't know..." He trailed off, before pausing. "I don't know what I'd do with you, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his brown ones, and you could see the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Jude," you whispered, your heart swelling with emotion.

As you cuddled together on the couch, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you felt a sense of peace.

"How about we start fresh tomorrow?" Jude suggested, his voice gentle. "We can spend the day together, just us. No media, no distractions. Just enjoying each other's company."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "I'd love that. It sounds perfect."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Good. It's a date then."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[otakubimbo]

BAD COMMUNICATION SKILLS

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Profanity, Angst, Anal (f!receiving), Aggressive Sex, Verbal Fighting, Miscommunication DID NOT PROOFREAD

summary: You broke up with your boyfriend Gojo Satoru out of what he thought was no where. He hasn’t heard from you since you took all of your stuff out of his house while he was at work. But now here you were, soaking wet at his house in the middle of the night. Let’s just say, he wasn’t that happy to see your face.

Day 3: Hate Sex

A/n: I’m actually really enjoying making these so I hope y’all are liking them too <3

masterlist

You didn’t even know how you got to his door. Your feet just led you there as if they knew the way. So, here you were knocking on your ex’s door in the middle of the night. Well 1:00 am to be more specific. It was pathetic in a sort of way, especially since you were the one that broke up with him and also because you got caught in the rain. Your freshly done silk press now ruined.

“I know that fucker is awake. Answer the damn door.” You go to bang on the door again when it’s yanked open. Now you’re just standing there like a dumb ass with your fist raised. Gojo Satoru wasn’t wearing his blindfold, shades sitting on the point of his nose. When his face met yours, immediately a scowl fell upon his beautiful lips.

“What the fuck do you —“He paused taking in your appearance. You knew you looked like a drowned rat in running attire. You were even wearing the running shoes he got you for your birthday last year. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just come in.”

He steps out of your way and you carefully make your way past him to get inside. Immediately you remove your water logged shoes, standing with your arms around yourself now in the coolness of his apartment. He left you standing there in the cold until he came back throwing a towel in your direction. You could it, attempting to dry yourself off but you were soaked to the bone.

“I just need to charge my phone and I’ll call an Uber and be out your way.” You mumble attempting to gently squeeze some of the moisture out of your ruined hair.

“What have I told you about going on runs without charging your phone?! Especially in the middle of the night are you crazy?! I’ve told you how dangerous that is.” He scolds you and you simply roll your eyes.

He always thought he knew better.

“I would have been fine if I didn’t get caught in the rain” You spit back avoiding his eye contact trying your best not to freeze. Why the fuck was it so cold in here?

“You think that makes it better?! It’s the middle of the fucking night Y/N! Your house is 10 miles from here! Do you not understand how dangerous that is?! How many times have I told you?!”

You finally met his angry gaze, your face reflecting the same “I can take care of myself! If I didn’t get caught in the rain I wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

Your arms are crosse in front of you, rage was starting to warm the cold out of your bones. You could tell your response pissed him off even more by the glare he had and the way he was aggressively moving toward you.

“Cut the bullshit. It started raining 40 minutes ago which gave you plenty of time to go home. And don’t even try to tell me you were going to run 20 miles in the rain on a fucking Tuesday.”

Yall are face to face at this point as he stands over your. His face is red with annoyance, he always looked so damn hot when he was mad. Yall ended up having a lot of angry sex that way. Not today though because for once you didn’t have any bite back. He was right and you had no idea why you were here. Your face still hardened as you sniffle, your nose trying to run. At that, his face softens and he sighs taking a step back. He didn’t have it in him to be mad at you when you looked like that. His broken heart breaking even more with every sniffle.

“Go take a shower before you get sick”

“I’ll be—“ You start but he cuts you off before you could finish your rebuttal.

“No you won’t, don’t argue with me and just go.”

He always thought he could tell you what to do.

You clamp your mouth shut. There was no point in arguing because you in fact did always get sick this way, then he used to have to take care of you for a week everyday reminding you of how maybe you should listen to him sometimes because he was right. With no further arguing, you made your way to the bathroom. You turn the shower on and strip while you wait for the shower to heat you. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked terrible. Only part of your hair had reverted, the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep made you look ill, overall you looked dreadful.

“What the fuck are you doing here” You question your reflection. You hadn’t seen Satoru’s face since the break-up and it wasn’t a good breakup either. That was mainly your fault though, you just up and left no explanation. Yeah, you had your own place but most of all your things were at his place. You packed your shit, said nothing to him and blocked him. Even though, he only tried coming to your place once. Just once. And that confirmed to yourself that you made the right decision by breaking up with him the way you did. That didn’t stop you from missing the man you hated so much.

You sigh at your reflection before snorting, “You’re so stupid”

The shower was finally hot enough to slide yourself in. Once the hot water hit your skin, you immediately melted into the feeling. The tension from the argument melting away with the heat along with the cold in your bones. You decided to just go ahead and wet the rest of your hair, there was no saving it. Putting your head under the steaming water made you feel even better. You almost forgot that you couldn’t get too comfortable in there, so you quickly finished up your shower using his conditioner to make sure your hair didn’t get knocked putting it into two plats.

Once you step out the shower you see clothes laid out for you on the sink. He must have slipped in when your head was under the water. It was your favorite shirt of his and some shorts you guess you forgot, almost bringing a smile to your face.

You slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you. He wasn’t in his room, thankfully, so you made your way back to the living room. His back was to you as he lounged on the couch. Oh how many times you’ve come out to this sight. The smell of ginger filled your nostrils and you noticed his favorite mug filled with a hot ginger tea, a bottle of whiskey next to it.

He doesn’t turn to you, but acknowledges your presence “That’s for you if you want it. I know you like it when you’re cold.”

It was your favorite., you gladly picked it up placing more than a shot into the warm cup.

He was only thoughtful when he felt like it.

“Thanks.” You say barley above a whisper but you knew he heard you because the room was completely silent besides your soft sniffles.

“No problem. I tried to charge your phone but there’s water in the port so it’s drying out.” He finally turns to you. His eyes always held secrets. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as you nod at his comment going to sit on the opposite side of the couch. You tuck your legs into you to bring yourself some comfort as you sip on your hot tea.

Gojo didn’t know what to say to you. You broke his heart and blocked him. He had no clue why you were here. He had no clue why you even left him. All the sudden he came home, expecting to see the love his life except he came home to an empty cold apartment. You and all your things just up and gone. He tried going to your house but when you didn’t answer knowing that you were home, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was now just alone, again.

You could never read him.

The silence between you hung in the air. It seemed like time was stopped and moving too fast at the same time. Gojo was the one to finally break the silence.

“Why?”

A simple question.

Your head slowly raised to meet his gaze. His eyes were sad, the blue sparkling in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Why what?” You knew what he meant but you didn’t want to just come out and say it. He should fucking know why.

“Don’t piss me off more than you already have.” He scoffs at you, unamused.

“You literally have no reason to be mad” now that really pissed him off. He pushed himself off the couch and stormed over to you, looking you into between his arms on either side of you. You try and sink further into the couch, casually taking a huge swig out of your cup as if you weren’t fazed by his behavior. His eyes looked wild, you hadn’t even noticed he didn’t have his shades on until right then.

“I have no reason to be mad? Me? You took all of your shit out the house and fucking blocked me, Y/N. And now here you are showing up at my door in the middle of the fucking night to play fucking mind games with me”

“I told you –“ You begin getting cut off yet again by him. He usually let you speak your mind but not tonight it seemed.

“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. I fucking hate you, you broke my heart and then just show up like its not a fucking deal. Why the fuck are you here?! To torture me?!” His grip is tighter on the couch.

Your voice is small, “ I don’t know why I’m here. I just went on a run and before I knew it I was here.”

You avoid his gaze as he leans back aggressively running his fingers through his hair. He laughs almost defeatedly.

“Maybe I’m the cursed one instead of the honored one.” He says as he paces in front of you.

“Satoru” You say softly, reaching out to him, your hand moving on its own. He looks at your hand, snorting.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” He finally stopped pacing, standing in front of you. “Just tell me why you left” His voice and eyes pleaded at you. As much as you can see you broke his heart, yours was shattered as well too.

“I heard you”

“What” He says confused as to what the fuck you were talking about.

“With your parents. I heard you on the phone with your parents.” You say as you finally look up to meet his gaze. He still looks confused at you as if there’s no way he knows what’s going on. “Stop acting like youre confused.”

“Because I am confused!”

“You literally agreed when your dad said that you should break up with me! That you were too good for me!” You yell standing up, getting in his face.

You remember it like it was yesterday. You had fell asleep on the couch as you were watching a movie, but were woken up when you heard him talking quietly on the phone in the kitchen. His dad was yelling at him about how he needed to break up with you and that you were no good for him. His response: okay. You had never heard him not argue back with his father but this time? The time that it came to y’all’s relationship he was silent. He had no fight in him for you and you were crushed, you didn’t even know how you didn’t burst into tears right then. So you did what you thought was best and just left the next morning.

“You didn’t even defend me. You just said okay and that was that.” Your voice was cracking, tears threatening to spill out at any second. He looked at you as if you were a fucking idiot.

“For someone so smart you are so fucking stupid. I hate how fucking hardheaded you are.”

Before you could ask what he was talking about his lips crash into yours. Your bodies came together like missing puzzle pieces. You missed him so fucking much. His mouth moved harshly against yours, pushing your further into the couch.

“You never listen to me” He rasps as his mouth moves to your jaw trailing kisses to your ear. His tongue licks around your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You’re panting at this point, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist trying to pull him closer. He bites on your ear making your back arch into him, moaning into his shoulder.

“Fuck ‘toru.” You moan as your hands get tangled into his hair. His mouth licks and sucks on your neck, pulling the most delicious moans out of you. You can feel him growing between your legs as he presses himself into your now wet shorts. Your wetness is seeping through even his own layers of clothes which gets a deep throaty groan out of him.

“At least your pussy missed me, you heartless slut.” He scoffs, grinding more into you grabbing you by your throat. “Broke my heart for no fucking reason because you didn’t want to communicate.”

His grip tightens on your neck and you squirm under him as you feel yourself getting even more spurred on. The hand not occupied around your throat sinks straight into your shorts. His long thick fingers forcing their way into soaked cunt.

“Yeah your pussy really missed me. She wouldn’t have to be so needy for me now if you would of just fucking talked to me. I hate how you always just shut down.” He scolds as he’s aggressively finger fucking you, his thumb just as aggressively circling your clit. You could barely even register all that he was saying, his fingers were hitting the best parts within you. You moan his name over and over again. Your body was so close to reaching it’s climax, it was making you dizzy. Right before you were tipped over the edge, he yanked his fingers out. Before you could even complain about the emptiness in you, he shoves his slick coated fingers in your mouth. You suck on them greedily, loving the taste of yourself on his fingers. He looks darkly down at you as he yanks your shorts off, causing a gasp from you which makes him shove his fingers further down your throat gagging you.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” He asks pulling his dick free from his pants. It was as pretty as you remember, it wasn’t super thick but it was long and had the prettiest curve to it. “That you would think that of me. That you would think I didn’t love you.” He strokes his dick looking down at you, your eyes hooded and filled with love.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to fuck you like I hate you.” He says as he yanks you up, throwing you over the side of the couch so that your back is arched perfectly for him. Satoru doesn’t even give you time to think as he thrusts himself completely inside of you causing you to groan deeply from the sudden and harsh intrusion. He pounded into your relentlessly, hands placed firmly on your hips holding you in place. You didn’t know if you could take much more. He was so deep, ramming into your cervix with every thrust and every so often making your ass which you knew would make it hard for you to sit for days after. Your pussy was squeezing him tightly with every smack.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this huh? You didn’t have to break my fucking heart to get me to fuck you like this.” He growls smugly behind you as one of his hands moves from your hips to your front rubbing your combined juices on his fingers. With his, now wet, thumb he sticks it straight into your asshole that was puckering at him. You throw your head back at the intrusion now feeling overwhelmingly full. He matches the thrust of his fingers with the thrusts of his dick.

“Yes! Satoru! Yes fuck yes. Oh you’re going to make me cum baby.” You babble unable to control any feeling in your body anymore.

“Then come for me.��He commands, using his other hand to grab the back of your neck pulling you back. At that point, your mind was empty except for the feeling of him inside of you. After a few more thrusts, you cum, and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. Your eyes roll in the back of your head and you think they may get stuck like that with the way feel right now. The noises you made were so lewd and the death grip you pussy had on Satorus dick as he was trying to fuck you through your high had him cuming deeply in you.

Once both of your bodies stopped shaking, he let you both fall over the side of the couch, his back pressed against you panting hard. He catches his breath and gently pulls out of you, gaining a whimper from you. With a sigh, he picks you up and brings y’all to the bedroom, laying you down gently pulling the covers over your spent body. He slides in on the other side, turning your face to him.

“Are you ready to listen?”He asks gently, cupping your face. Your eyelids were heavy but you nod.

“The reason I didn’t argue with my dad was because I had planned on never talking to him again after we got off the phone, on top of the fact I thought you were sleeping.” Maybe he was more thoughtful than you gave him credit for, but you were still confused. Him and his father argued all of the time, but he wouldn’t ever just cut off contact with him.

“What happened?” You ask softly, now seeing how big you overreacted.

Satoru sighs before placing a kiss on your forehead, deciding on if he wanted to tell you or not. You reach out, stroking his cheek lovingly allowing him to open up on his own time, showing you were listening.

“I told him I wanted to marry you.” He says finally. Your movements immediately still and your eyes widen.

“Huh” You question, blinking several times to make sure you were awake and registering everything properly.

“I let him know I was thinking about proposing to you and when he gave me that reaction, I decided that there was no longer a point in talking to him. I couldn’t have anyone in my life who didn’t see how special you were.”

You felt like you couldn’t breath and you just said the first thing that came to your mind, “I’m an idiot”

You’re trying to hold back tears and he pulls you into an embrace.

“So it seems. But you’re my idiot. Yeah?” He asks rubbing circles into your back. You nod into his chest.

“Next time you think about pulling a disappearing act. Can you just talk to me first?” He asks and you nod again getting a chuckle out of him.

“Still hate you for breaking my heart but I can think of a few ways you can repay me” He says as he pulls you back, capturing your mouth once more. The rest of the night, you did your best to repay him for your lack of communication skills.

The next morning, you woke up wrapped up in your loving man, his head in your chest and your legs thrown over him. Unfortunately for you, you felt like shit. You, indeed, did get sick. Another incident you weren’t going to hear the end of until you got better.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

May I request something something with Aemond being in his study and trying to read a book or write and he gets really engrossed in what he's doing so he doesn't notice his wife sneaking under the table or in front of him if he's sitting by the fireplace because she wants to blow him. If you write this could you please involve a lot of ball sucking? I am obsessed with his balls okay? High life was a blessing🥵

High Life was indeed a blessing. The swinging of those testicles will forever live rent free in my head.

I'm going to go a little off piste with your request, as I think the sneaking under the table trope is old, tired and far beyond the realm of belief, even for fiction; there's no way that would take Aemond by surprise. It kind of reminds of the "I'm stuck" trend in porn. I hope you like what I've done with this though!

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1200

“Aemond, I cannot sleep without you.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, as she lingers in the doorway of her husband’s study.

He sits in an armchair by the fire, one leg crossed over the other, his long fingers splayed across the hardcover of the book he’s reading. His right eye glances up at her and his expression softens.

“Go back to bed, dōnus riñus. I’ll join you soon.” Sweet girl.

“May I wait in here?” She asks with a shy smile. Aemond turns his attention back to his reading. Her fingers fidget awkwardly with the thin cotton of her nightgown. “I’m not trying to hurry you, I just want to be…close.”

Aemond does not look up from his book, though the corners of his mouth curve upwards into a small smile. The hand not holding the large tome beckons her forward with a two-fingered “come hither” motion.

She feels practically giddy with excitement, her heart flutters, and it takes all of her restraint not to run towards him as her bare feet pad quietly across the cold flagstone floor.

He looks at her quizzically, his eyebrow raised when she settles herself by his feet instead of on the chair opposite, but says nothing.

Warmth blooms in her chest as he uncrosses his legs to accommodate her presence. Such a simple gesture, yet it is loaded with significance; acceptance, comfort, love.

She shifts to kneel between his thighs, resting her head against the slim corded muscle of one of them. The heat from the hearth feels pleasant against her back and her eyes flutter closed as she feels Aemond’s free hand upon her head, beginning to stroke through her hair.

She sighs happily, and when she opens her eyes she sees that Aemond’s attention is still focused on his reading, though his fingers continue to absentmindedly card through her tresses.

He is so duty bound, so stoic, and the look of concentration that hardens his already sharpened features, as he focuses on the text in his hand, has her longing to do something for him that is for him alone to enjoy. She wants to give him something that will bring him a moment of respite and pleasure, to ease the burden of his responsibilities.

A wry smile plays upon her lips as the idea strikes her. She lifts her head from where it had leaned against Aemond’s thigh and replaces it with her hand, spreading her fingers with slight pressure and dragging it up the length of it. She mimics the gesture on the opposite side, both her hands coming to rest at the tops of his legs.

Aemond takes an abrupt inhale of breath, his eye flitting quickly to her before back to his book. He is making no move to stop her, so she interprets his silence as permission.

Her hands rub across the lacings of his breeches, a swell of pride invigorating her confidence as she feels him begin to harden beneath her touch. Anticipation causes her fingers to tremble as she works to untie the fastenings. Though her husband’s endowment is now a familiar sight to her – a year of marriage has allowed her to become well acquainted – it is no less enticing, and she is eager to please him.

Once the laces are sufficiently loosened, her hand snakes into the opening, seeking out her prize. Arousal titillates her core as her fingers make contact with the hardened velvety smoothness of his cock, wrapping around it to free it from its confines.

Aemond’s hand has ceased its stroking of her hair, yet remains at the back of her head. He swallows thickly, face still trained on the pages in front of him, though it is clear from the lack of movement in his eye that he has stopped reading.

She marvels at the sight of his member; long, thick, ruddy at the tip in comparison to the paleness of the rest of it, with a prominent vein running along its underside. She takes it in one hand, stroking languidly, while the other tugs insistently at the opening of his breeches, bringing them further down and releasing his stones. The fleshy pouch in which they sit is taut, a subtly darker shade than the rest of his skin. She eyes them curiously as she continues to run her hand up and down the length of him.

“What are you doing, jorrāelītsos?” He asks, a slight strain to his voice. Little love.

“Making you feel good.” She says, leaning forward to deliver a kitten lick to the head of him and humming with delight at the salty taste it leaves behind on her tongue. “Would you like me to stop?”

The smile she offers up to him is nothing short of coquettish and he fights to stifle a groan.

“Gods…no…keep going.”

She grins, diving forward with enthusiasm, taking him into her mouth and cupping his balls, squeezing gently. She massages them as she hollows her cheeks, bobbing her head up and down the length of him.

Aemond’s breathing becomes ragged and she beams with joy as she hears the book he is holding snap shut.

She releases him from her mouth with a wet pop, moving her attentions lower as she suckles one of his stones into his mouth.

The book drops to the floor with a thud and Aemond’s now free hand comes to join the other in her hair, gripping tightly. As she casts a glance upwards she notices that his head is thrown back, eye screwed shut in pleasure and jaw slack.

She moves her focus to the other, drawing it between her lips, as her fist pumps up and down the slick mixture of saliva and his own arousal that coats his hardened member.

She can tell from the way that his hips buck uncontrollably off of the chair that he is close to his peak. Eager to taste his release, she returns the length of him to her mouth, sucking greedily as her hand works to take care of what will not fit inside.

He grunts and for a moment she worries he will tear her roots from her skull with the force of his pulling, but then she tastes it. Hot and distinctive, his seed spills onto her eager tongue and down her throat. She swallows hungrily, not ceasing her movements until he fully relaxes.

She sits back on her haunches, licking her lips and staring up at him doe-eyed.

Aemond looks almost sleepy, all concentration has disappeared from his features; his eye is hooded, his jaw no longer tense, a slight smile plays upon his lips. He regards her with a warmth that she basks in happily.

“Sȳres riñus.” He praises, patting his thigh. “Come here.” Good girl.

She crawls into his lap, curling against his chest as he reaches down to retrieve his book before resuming his earlier reading.

She is about to drift off to sleep when she feels his hand push beneath her nightdress and move to the apex of her thighs. Her head falls back against his shoulder, eliciting a breathy “oh!” as dexterous fingers begin to tease her folds. It is clear he is intent on returning the favour.

[thewordypeach]

Flesh Without Blood

Flesh without Blood (Forbidden Fruit)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, Tommy Miller x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: 18+, smut!, no use of y/n, incest (stepsibling!!!), threesome, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetration x2, little bit of voyeurism, maybe some cuckold, mentions of punishment, implied rape, slight uncaring/cold-hearted... summary: There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. author's note: hello, this is my third story I've posted! and oooof, yeah... it is incest. but between stepsiblings (as if that makes it better??!?) i couldn't help myself okay! i know you want to be sandwiched between Tommy and Joel Miller as much as i do. also, i am sorry that the summary sucks - i'm not very good at them lol. umm, anyways, i hope you enjoy because i might have another incest-y story in the works... ;) xoxo the wordy peach <3

Joel Miller’s rough exterior speaks to the life of survival the three of you’ve endured since the cordyceps outbreak. You watch as his chest expands and his shoulders pull back, making his already physically imposing body even more domineering than before. His face, rugged and weathered, twists into a scowl. Meanwhile, Tommy Miller’s exterior is merciful, exuding a softer, more lenient temper. His body language is casual. Less rigid. But his face is stricken with disappointment.

“I’ll give you a cut of whatever I make!” The contrast between the brothers makes you nervous, and you slowly start backing away. A sense of urgency makes you blurt out a new, better offer, “Whatever I make, I’ll give you a quarter - no! Half!”

Joel remains stoically hardened, but Tommy gives a disarming smile and barks a laugh, “What the hell are we going to do with the money?”

You shrug, “Buy some more guns?”

Tommy laughs again, and his entire face lights up. Tommy’s laid-back nature has always made him the easygoing of the two brothers, and even now, as they confront you about your secret business dealings, he seems to trust that you aren’t a threat. You might be slightly stupid, but you certainly aren’t dangerous.

“Oh, Nic,” Tommy shakes his head, and his face darkens as he approaches you. The sudden change in his demeanour makes you confused, and your body stills, becoming rigid and tense. His hand is quick, clamping down around your throat. Your breath hitches, and you reach up, grabbing his wrist. His hold on you is firm, and you struggle to remove his steellike grip.

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” He hisses, voice full of venom. He doesn’t squeeze, but his fingers flex around your throat, sending the message that he could easily choke you out. Your eyes dart to Joel, who isn’t stopping any of this - in fact, it looks like Joel is enjoying it. 

“Don’t look at him - look at me,” Tommy barks, “I’m the one who has you by the throat,” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy, and you squirm, trying to step back. Tommy glares, spitting out, “Never thought you’d be the one who would betray the family, Nic,”

“I wasn’t -” You grunt, still trying to pry his hand off your throat. By a fraction, Tommy’s grip tightens. “I wasn’t trying to fucking betray you - I was trying to fucking leave this shit hole,” 

At the admission of your actual plan, Tommy stops. His face softens ever so slightly, and his eyes, once hard and emotionless, shift into concern. His brows knit together, and he whispers, “Leave?”

You nod, eyes still panicked as they peer at Tommy. You know he’s the one you want to be bargaining with, but it’s still hard to admit the truth to Tommy. You reply, “I-I-I’m joining the Fireflies,”

Confusion floods Tommy’s face, and he presses, “You need money for that?”

Momentarily, you feel bad. It wasn’t money that you were after, but rather, you were gathering supplies for a mission which just happened to belong to your stepbrothers. You shake your head and bite your lower lip, considering your words, before cautiously speaking, “I needed the supplies for a mission Marlene is sending me on,” 

“Oh, that’s fucking rich, Nic - stealing from your own brothers,”

“Tommy, no - it’s not like that,” You say, voice breaking in the process. Tommy shakes his head, and the muscles in his hand, still holding your throat, flex and shift. 

“Then what’s it like, Nic?” Tommy asks. He sounds hurt; however, his neck is corded with tension and his lips are twisted into a wryly sneer.

“I know neither of you wants me around,” Your voice quivers as you speak, the weight of past rejections and present isolations bearing down on your heart. You know deep down that Tommy and Joel Miller, your brothers only by marriage, have never entirely accepted you as one of their own. 

There has always been a palpable tension that never seems to dissipate; something is always simmering beneath the surface. And now, decades later, that same tension remains in a world ravaged by a deadly fungus. Tears gather in your eyes as you confront the bitter wound that has never fully healed. 

Tommy’s tongue clicks against his teeth, tsking in disapproval, “Poor little Nicky thinks we don’t want her around, Joel….” 

You shake your head, “Tommy - please, don’t,”

Tommy glances at his older brother, “What do you have to say about this, Joel? Do we want little Nicky around?”

From the expression on Joel’s face, you think he is being asked what he thought of the weather because it is so casual, so aloof. Completely unaffected. You watch as Joel’s mouth moves. His voice is cold and detached: “You know what, Tommy? She is stupid for thinking that we don’t want her around, considering all we’ve done for her….”

Joel casually walks over, his brown eyes staring blankly at you. That is until a strange look flickers across his face. It’s a warning - you’ve seen it before. Your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly desperate to escape this situation, so you try to bargain with them, “Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” 

Still holding your neck, Tommy sweeps his thumb along your jaw and strokes little circles into it. It’s almost comforting. His head tilts to the side, and he peers at you, eyes blazing. It’s the lapse of silence that has you panicking again. His face tips down, and he presses his nose into your cheek, his hot breath cascading across your skin. 

“Oh, Nic…” Tommy murmurs, his lips flush against your cheek, “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything we’ve done, we did it for you,”

The implication makes your skin crawl. Lips quivering, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

Tommy’s voice is taut, filled with annoyance, “Stupid bitch doesn’t even know how many men we’ve stopped from ripping her apart -” His hand has moved from your throat to your jaw, holding it tightly between his fingers. He’s gazing at you with expanded pupils. There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. 

That’s when Joel presses his body into your back, and you realize you aren’t going anywhere. Your stomach twists and floods with despair, body submitting to him instantly. With a taunting undertone, Joel says, “Oh, Nicky… how can we convince you that we want you around?”

Tommy disagrees, huffing out, “Speak for yourself, Joel - Nicky has always been a pain in my ass,”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. The energy has shifted. It’s no longer hostile, but something taboo between the two brothers is unfolding. Tommy’s mouth twitches, and he sighs, relenting as Joel recounts a memory: “Remember that one summer when she wore that tiny bikini and paraded her body all around the yard? Like some goddamn peacock.” 

Tommy licks his lips, smirking at the memory. A prickling sensation shoots up your spine, and alarms start going off in the back of your mind. Frantically, you glance around the room. You already know there isn’t a way out of here, and even if there were, Joel and Tommy would never let you go. 

With a gruff voice, Joel asks, “Tommy, how does it feel having your fantasy come true?” 

A dreadful expression crosses your face, but underneath, there’s curiosity as bewilderment floods through you. Thinking of the past and present, searching for the signs of their secret desire - can it really be true? Tommy mumbles, “It only took a decade for it to happen,”

You shake your head, refusing to believe such things, “N-no, no….”

Wickedly, Tommy grins, “What, Nic? Are you trying to tell me that you never thought of us this way?” He cocks his head to the side, entertained by the defiant glare you’re giving him. It reminds him of the times he spent teasing you as a teenager; he had fun bullying you in those days.  

Firmly, you state, “No, I haven’t.” You’re disgusted by his insinuation: “It’s wrong,”

Tommy scoffs, laughing, “So, you didn’t write in your diary about how badly you wanted Joel to take your virginity?”

You stop, eyes blinking with disbelief. Your jaw slackens, mouth opening in shock. Tommy loves this look - he loves how you’re pretending to be all innocent when you are just as dirty as he and Joel. 

“I never wrote that,” You lie. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives you a playful look before his eyes travel down, taking inventory of your body. A possessiveness settles on his face as he hungrily gazes at your chest. He knows you hate wearing a bra, and even now, he can tell you aren’t wearing one. It’s in how your tits bounce and your nipples, perky and erect, poke through the fabric.

Tommy can’t stop himself and just has to reach up and pinch one. The pain is sharp and quick, making you squeal in surprise. You try to twist away, body turning, but Joel’s hands cinch around your waist, and he holds you against his solid body. Your attempt to fight back is futile. Utterly useless. You try to think of ways out of this, but your mind is giving up, and your body is giving in; Joel touching you makes you realize that the infatuation you once felt for him has never really gone away. 

“I…I was young and stupid,” You hastily admit to the secret you’ve been harbouring for decades, “I … I thought it’d be hot to fuck one of you - can you blame me, though? Both of you were constantly bringing girls over to fuck -”

“Aw, Nicky. Were you jealous?” Tommy coos as his finger completes a circle or two around your nipple. The sensation is causing pressure to build in the crest of your crotch, and you hate yourself for it. It’s wrong, totally wrong -

“If I’m being honest, Nic… I was jealous of your little boyfriend - what was his name again? Gregory? Geoff?” 

Joel says, “Garret,”

“Ahh, yeah. Garret. He’s the one who popped your cherry,” Disappointment lines Tommy’s voice, and he pouts, jealous that it wasn’t him. Unhurried, Tommy drags a finger down, down, down and slips his hand underneath your shirt. You inhale sharply as Tommy’s hand dances across your stomach, tickling you. Goosebumps explode across your skin, and you struggle to remain indifferent, but his touch sends mixed signals to your brain. 

Teasingly, Tommy presses, “Whatever happened to Garret? Hmmm, Nic? What happened to him?” 

You bite your lip, trying to remember. Garret was your first boyfriend. Your first love. Or so, that’s what you thought. Teenage boys can be so fickle. “He… he broke my heart - cheated on me with some dumb whore,” 

“Do you regret him being your first? Do you wish it was Joel or me who took your precious little flower?” Tommy circles back to your old diary entry. You refuse to admit it, mouth clamping shut. But it’s the way your body presses into Joel’s body that gives your secret away. Intrigued, Tommy studies your subtle movement. He knows that you’ve always had something for Joel - after all, Joel is the protective older brother who’s reliable and stable. Always has been.

“Well, Nic…” Tommy’s voice fades off. His hand underneath your shirt trails up and cups your breast. It’s soft and pillowy, exactly how he imagined. His voice is low, but his intentions are evident as he speaks: “What if you got the best of both worlds? What if Joel and I take you….” 

He’s massaging your tit, kneading the plump flesh. He tweaks your nipple, softer this time, and a little gasp escapes from your throat, betraying you. Traderous sparks begin to envelop your body. Your breath hitches as you ask, “And what happens if I refuse?” 

You know you won’t be backing out of this because Tommy’s words are true. You’ve been lusting after Joel for years, and if the world hadn’t gone to total shit, you wouldn’t be standing here, considering Tommy’s insane offer. But in this post-apocalyptic world, nothing matters, not even the familial bonds you share with them. Your eyes shutter closed as you try to steady your breathing. The anticipation and nervousness are unbearable. 

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re wondering, darlin’...” Joel assures you in a calm, steady voice. His hands haven’t moved from their spot on your waist. The grip he has on you is gentle, reassuring. It's as if he’s trying to comfort you, and in some weird, fucked up way, it’s working. There’s no aggression or force in his touch, and the proximity of his body makes it hard for you to ignore the bulge pressing into your back. 

“Nothing bad?” You repeat. 

“Nothing bad,” Tommy and Joel say in unison. Their words soothe your nerves, but only a little. You take a deep breath, trying to settle your racing heart. You know that you can trust them and that they won’t hurt you. But still. The idea of being intimate with them is overwhelming - 

“Get on your knees -” Tommy instructs. 

Joel interjects, “Go slow, Tommy - we have all night with her,”

Tommy scowls, annoyed with his brother. However, you are already sliding down to the floor. A smug look flickers over Tommy’s face, and he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. To your surprise, he’s not wearing underwear, and his cock falls out. It’s big, and it points right at you. You peer at it, frozen in shock. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but suddenly, you’re left wondering if Joel is also blessed with a gift of this size. Or maybe, Tommy is the one who lucked out in the genetics department -

“You’ve sucked a cock before, haven’t you, Nic?” Tommy asks as his fingers touch your chin and his thumb swipes across your lower lip, opening your mouth. You nod, and slowly, Tommy’s cock replaces his hand. He makes a soft hissing sound as your lips slide down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Tommy threads his fingers through your hair as you babble around his cock. It’s a bit too deep for your liking, but a switch gets flicked, and all you want to do is prove yourself - you want to prove to your brother that you can suck cock. You hold his hips and bob your head, working your tongue against his arousal. But apparently, it’s not enough for Tommy because he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth, his cock reaching a dangerous depth, which causes your eyes to swell with tears. 

“I’ve dreamt of this filthy little mouth,” Eyes narrowing into slits, Tommy completely immerses himself into the fantasy. He can’t believe you are here, on your knees, sucking his cock. Joel loves it too, admiring how well you are doing, but he doesn’t like how rough Tommy is - he’s practically yanking your head down his shaft, making you gag and sputter. However, you don’t seem fazed by it. 

Joel can’t help but wonder if you’re genuinely enjoying it, and he knows the answer lies between your thighs. He kneels, hand snaking around your stomach and shoving into the waistband of your pants. You let out a muffled gasp of surprise but continued to gag and sputter around Tommy’s cock. Joel’s fingers are slow, but they move with purpose, and he teasingly presses them into your panties. He whispers into your ear, “You’re so fucking wet… does sucking your brother’s cock turn you on that much?” 

He taunts your clit, fingers circling it but never quite touching it. You’re gasping for air, hot tears tracking down your cheeks. Tommy quickly wipes them away, a tender action that leaves you feeling cared for as he continues to fuck your face. Joel senses your discomfort and tells Tommy to ease off. 

“Fuck, just let me -” Tommy groans, a familiar ache in his balls. He’s so fucking close; the tension is becoming unbearable. However, Tommy has to resign himself because he still wants to fuck you, and hastily, Tommy removes his cock from your mouth, groaning as a trail of spit dangles between your mouth and the tip of his well-sucked cock.

You greedily suck the air back into your lungs, chest heaving. Your eyelids flutter as Joel continues to apply pressure through the fabric of your panties, but you need more. You need him inside. Daringly, you ask: “Can we move this to the bed?” 

Tommy and Joel share a look. It’s so quick that you almost miss it. Joel stands, lifting you in the process. He twirls you around, places his large hands on your hips, and kisses you like a man starved. Joel doesn’t give a damn that you had Tommy’s cock in your mouth because Joel has been waiting for this and doesn’t want to hold back. He gives it all to you, nipping and sucking your lower lip. When Joel’s tongue touches yours, you groan. 

As your heart thrums wildly inside your chest, liquid heat pools in your core. It’s so wrong that it’s right. Any morals you once had are long gone. They don’t exist anymore. Joel cups your ass, gripping the fleshy mounds. You gasp, and Joel smiles before his lips travel down your jaw, planting kisses down to your neck, where his teeth graze your collarbone. His hands move up and play with the hem of your shirt, and in one swift motion, he lifts it off your body and tosses it to the side. 

Joel’s mouth continues to travel downward, and he closes his mouth against your tit. He’s all teeth and tongue with continuous suction — meanwhile, his other hand twists and tweaks your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Little mewls spill forth from your mouth, and your hands are groping Joel’s bulge through his jeans, desperate to feel his cock. 

“Take your pants off, Joel,” You demand, and to your surprise, he obeys. Joel strips and tosses his clothes. Unlike his brother, Joel wears underwear with a humorous pattern of hearts. It’s quite the contrast to his imposing physical ruggedness. It makes you smile and giggle - Joel’s eyebrow lifts quizzically. You shake your head, and the next thing you know, Joel is helping you out of your pants and lowering you down to the mattress where Tommy is already lying, waiting. His clothes have already been discarded. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel murmurs. You watch as the slightest tinge of pink rises to his cheeks. It makes you giddy. Only in your dreams has Joel said such things. Joel hovers, pushing your thighs open with his palms, kneeling between them, sliding lower and lower. He hooks a finger on your panties and glides them off your hips; they join the rest of the forgotten clothes in the room. 

Joel marvels at your glistening pussy that’s so swollen from having been kept in a state of anticipation. His fingertips sink so easily into your folds, parting them and gliding his digits through the slickness of arousal seeping out. Your head tilts back, eyes closing from the pleasure steadily streaming through your body. Joel lowers his face, inhaling your tantalizing scent, which unleashes a throaty moan from his chest. He’s gentle when carving a path through your arousal with his tongue, noting how your thighs twitch ever so slightly when he glides over your throbbing clit. 

“Mmm, how does she taste, Joel?” Tommy asks, voice breaking through the silence between the three of you—Joel answers by grunting. He’s a man of few words, even now. The vibration makes you clench and groan as your hands thread themselves through Joel’s hair because you need something to hold onto. His tongue circles your clit before licking downward and dipping into your wet hole. 

You hiss at the intrusion, “Fuck, Joel,” Never fucking ever did you think your brother would be this fucking good at eating pussy -

“Joel has quite the tongue, doesn’t he, Nic?” Tommy hums as he shifts his body, lying down next to you. His mouth hovers above your shoulder, and his warm breath strews across your skin as he lowers to your breast, tongue flicking your nipple. You groan as your brain goes hazy at the dual pleasure that is coursing through your body.

You don’t know what to focus on: Joel, who is ravaging your pussy, eating it like it's his last meal on earth, or Tommy, who is manhandling your tits, biting, sucking, and marking his territory by breaking your skin’s capillaries. 

Your chest heaves, and your teeth sink into your cheek. Liquid heat blossoms in your core, and your fingers grip Joel’s hair, practically ripping it out as his tongue takes a long, broad stroke up to your clit. You gasp as he sucks it into his mouth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You like that, Nic? You like it when Joel sucks your clit?” Tommy has quite a filthy mouth on him, and you nod, eagerly agreeing with his statement.

“Need more, though,” You murmur, and you watch as Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, yeah? Little Nicky needs more?” Tommy teases before instructing Joel to add a finger or two, and just like that, Joel’s middle finger is circling your tight, wet hole. Tapping at it, applying the lightest pressure before it sinks inside. You’re shifting continuously, trying to adjust and make room - you can't remember the last time someone penetrated you, and Joel’s finger is so thick.  

“Relax, Nicky,” Joel rasps out, “I’m not going to hurt you….”

You order yourself to relax, but Joel can tell it’s still too much for you because he has to hold down your hip, stilling it, with his other hand. Once more, Joel latches his mouth to your clit, and twirls bud tongue around it. When Joel adds a second digit, you give a half-yelp. And when Joel curls his fingers, hooking them inside, pressing against that sweet spongy spot, heat floods your body.

Your hips grind into his face, desperately wanting more - no - needing more. Joel knows you are close to releasing because your walls clench around his fingers, and your moans have become more frequent and erratic. You’re begging, pleading, to cum.

He closes his eyes and plunders his way through, lapping and sucking your every fold. He’s tuning you to a rhythm that has your hips rising to meet his pistoning fingers, and that’s when Joel hits that perfect combination, unleashing a wave that swells and rolls across your body. Your back arches off the mattress, squealing, “Oh, fucking hell, Joeeeeel-” 

Your core tightens, and your toes curl as bright lights burst across your shuttered eyelids. Sticky wetness pours out, covering Joel’s finger and mouth, but he doesn’t stop until you’re thrashing beneath him. Unable to take any more, you gently push him away; otherwise, you know he won’t be stopping anytime soon. 

Having denied his meal, Joel gives you a sullen look with pouty lips that glisten with your nectar. You shudder at the sight and reach for Joel’s body because you need him and his cock. You tug off his boxers, springing free a heavy and lengthy cock, similar to Tommy’s. At the sight of pre-cum dribbling down from his slit, your mouth waters. 

“Like what you see, Nic?” Joel rasps as his hand reaches down, closing his fist around it. He pumps it once, twice, and you swear, it’s bigger than before. Your eyes widen, thinking it’s too big - this is something you haven’t considered before. Your past partners definitely did not measure up to what your brothers are packing. 

“It’s so big….” Your voice trails off, heat blossoming across your cheeks. You feel silly for asking, “Is it even going to fit?”

Joel smirks, “Oh, darlin’... that’s why Tommy goes first -” 

“That’s fucking right,” Tommy growls. Suddenly, Tommy’s hands groped your body, pulling you up the mattress so you’re in its center. Joel sees your disappointment. He knows you want him to be the first, but Joel and Tommy prefer it this way. It’s not only better for them, but it’s also better for you. Tommy’s cock is the perfect starter. Meanwhile, Joel’s cock is the perfect finisher. 

Tommy looks elated as he positions himself between your thighs, cock in his hand as he nudges it through your slick, wet folds. A deep, throaty moan spills out of his mouth, and he pushes his cock into your entrance. Your cunt is pliant now but still not loose enough, he comments, “Ah, what a tight fucking cunt you got, Nic,” 

It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. The type that makes you want more, and so you open your thighs, making room for Tommy. His body vibrates with tension, and he glides his cock forward, sinking into wetness with a sudden thrust. Your mouth falls open, “Shit, Tommy -”

“Fucking hell, Nicky,” He groans, rolling his hips back and snapping them forward as your velvety hole welcomes every inch of him. His throat bobs, sucking in a sharp breath, “Fucking better than I could’ve ever imaged,”

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. You hate to admit it, but dirty-talking Tommy is doing inexplicable things to your body and mind. You need to hear more; his encouragement alone could easily drive you to another orgasm. 

“Yeah, Nic - fucking perfect cunt,” Tommy drops his head against your shoulder, his cock nuzzled deep in your cunt. He’s trying to catch his breath, and he’s trying not to spill his entire load right then and there. But having you in this position, your walls suctioning all around him, is making him disintegrate. 

His stomach flexes, struggling to remain composed - fuck. The lack of pussy has him weak, skirting the edge of an orgasm all too soon. He’s barely even fucked you. He’s disappointed in himself. You feel Tommy’s embarrassment, and you wrap your arms around his torso, whispering into his ear, “C’mon, Tommy… don’t you want to make my pussy feel good?”

You start rocking your hips, needing more friction than what he can give. He hisses at the movement, body trembling against yours, “Fuck me, Tommy - fuck me,” Your legs shift around, locking Tommy in place as your pussy clenches around his cock, coaxing him to move. To do something. 

“You feel so good,” You lick and nip at his earlobe. He hisses in response, his hips slowly bucking to meet yours. He’s trudging forward, head hanging low, trying not to blow his entire load. 

“Mmm, do you like my pussy -”

“No more talking,” Tommy tries to quell you. Eyes closed, jaw straining, “You’re gonna make me cum, talking like that,”

Cockily, you continue to spew filth at him, “Oh, yeah, Tommy? Are you gonna cum in my pussy - are you gonna come in your sister’s pussy?”

Heart pumping wildly inside his chest, Tommy’s body seizes, and his orgasm punches through. A shaky groan, gritty and low, escapes from his chest. The room fills with ragged breathing as he ejaculates his sticky seed in your cunt. As his cock twitches and empties, Tommy shudders and gasps into your shoulder. 

His body presses against yours, needing momentary support as he wrestles with himself, feeling mortified at his lack of stamina. He used to go for hours; hell, girls would line up for a chance with Tommy fucking Miller. So, it takes him an extra moment to convince himself that this was just a one-off. 

“Next time?” He whispers, hoping - what is the likelihood you’ll be down for another round? You plant a tender kiss against his chin, hands sweeping across his sweaty temple, repeating, “Next time,”

His eyes, full of potential, snap to yours. He gives you a sheepish smile. You know you will want more after tonight because what else is there to do in this post-apocalyptic world?

Tommy moves, and as soon as he does, Joel is there to replace his brother. You barely have time to think before Joel is raising your knees, angling them apart.  Joel’s movements are quick and precise. He’s been restlessly watching you get fucked, and he’s relieved that Tommy only took five minutes because now, it’s his turn. Joel feels like he has been waiting his entire life for this moment; now, it’s here. It’s actually happening. 

A giddiness rushes over Joel, and his stomach flutters with anticipation as his eyes hungrily glaze over. He’s ready, so fucking ready to give you what you deserve. Teasingly, Joel glosses the tip of his cock past your poised entrance and rubs it against your delectable wet folds that have unmistakable evidence of Tommy. Your response is a throaty groan, watching Joel mix the precum leaking from his cock with Tommy’s leftovers.

You’re feeling lightheaded, dizzy with desire. Oh, how you’ve craved Joel. You spent decades yearning for him; you went far too long feeling like a depraved little slut for wanting to fuck your step-brother. Your perverted little fantasy is finally coming true - you have him right where you want.

Joel takes the plunge, his cock nudging into your cunt. It’s almost too much. Without Tommy’s cock to start you off, Joel would’ve never fit. You peek at the point of penetration; the sight is better than anything you dreamed of. Except his cock isn’t entirely inside - not even half. Joel definitely has an extra inch or two than Tommy. You wiggle and squirm, breathing out a scattered whimper that exudes impatience.

“Joel,” You mewl, hands groping his neck and chest. You need something to hold onto because he’s starting to push against the resistance. Joel grunts as your tight velvet walls keenly greet his cock, welcoming him inside. He doesn’t stop until he has bottomed out, cock buried to the hilt. Splitting and spreading you open, almost until a breaking point where you’re gasping at being so filled. He barely moves an inch, and your walls automatically clench, sealing around him. 

“Shit, Nic - Tommy’s right. Your cunt is so fucking tight,” Joel pulls out, and his hands slide to the small of your back, lifting into your body as he pushes back into molten wetness. He does this over and over, rubbing against the spot in your velvet channel. Your thighs tremble as a blissful pleasure travels up your spine. However, you ache for more friction. 

Noise pitches from the back of your throat, “Harder, Joel - fuck me harder,” 

And he does. He pushes your knees against your chest and tilts his hips, snapping forward with such force that you cry out, your nails digging into the side of his torso. In a matter of seconds, Joel’s thrusts have become exploratory - going from shallow to deep, reaching a point of no return as he plunders forward.

Your entire body begins pulsating, a feverish wave rolling through. A second climax is upon you, the throes of euphoria building inside your body as Joel swiftly continues, elated that he’s about to give you what you deserve. You are panting incoherent nonsense as Joel relentlessly drives his cock in and out, in and out. 

He slides a hand between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and tweaking it between his finger and thumb. Your pelvis canted upwards to meet his touch. Urgently, you gasp, needing more pressure because it’s insufficient. Joel, somehow an expert in your body, does precisely that.

Joel palms your clit, sending continuous shocks across your core, making it impossible to ignore the building pressure. When you hit the peak, it’s an endless stream of obscenities. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You thrash beneath him, thighs squeezing shut, but Joel rips them open. He charges his hips into yours, riding your orgasm out; he loves how your smooth walls flutter around his cock, milking him. Cock drenched with your juices, Joel plows, his thrusts becoming shallow and rough. He grabs your hips, trying to control them, but you continue to undulate beneath him, desperately trying to meet his rhythm because you want Joel to fill your cunt with his cum. 

“Fill my pussy, Joel, fill it -” You coax him, voice reedy, hitching on the last word. Joel’s eyes shuttered close, his lashes like dark half-moons against his skin. Your pussy is persistent, swallowing his cock without resistance now. 

A rush of ecstasy flits through Joel’s body, and within seconds, the tension of the coil is snapping. He loses control, and his strokes stutter out, cock surging with a powerful load of spunk that paints the inside of your cunt.

“Holy fuck, Nic,” Joel’s head snaps back, his throat shuddering as he tries to calm the carnal rush raging through his body. His cock twitches and convulses as it continues to empty weeks' worth of pent-up frustration. You marvel at the feeling of being stuffed with your brother’s warm seed, legs locking around his waist because you need every single drop. 

As it ends, Joel’s energy drains. The excitement has dulled into the tranquility of release. As he gently pulls out of the warmth, his movements are sluggish. You feel the remnants of your brother's love seeping out of your gaping, used hole. Your taboo appetite has been satiated, and you’re excited about the prospect of what will happen next time. You are thinking of taking both their cocks at the same time when Joel’s voice interrupts the daydream: “Still thinking of leaving us, Nic?”

You give a breathy giggle, "No, I'm thinking about what it feels like to fuck the both of you at the same time,"

[ellievickstar]

His Second Option(Part 2 of 8)

Ship: Eris x reader

Warning: Angst and Fluff towards the end?

Summary: When Azriel visits you at your wedding, would you choose him or the high lord of the Autumn Court?

Read Part 1:

A/N: 2 Posts in a day. Wow.

Months had passed since the Winter’s Solstice. My mind had long forgotten about the dreadful rejection as I focused on plans. First, to kill Beron with Eris, next coronation and wedding plans. Despite Beron’s protest, we added the inner circle to the guest list, Azriel with them.

After Beron’s fall the lady of Autumn had moved between the Day Court and the Autumn court, It was soon revealed that Lucien, Eris’s youngest brother was Helion’s sole heir. For now. Eris was happy for his mother and by extension, so was I.

My sisters visited occasionally, Nesta telling me about how Elain had called off the engagement as soon as she realised how Azriel had broken my heart. Now giving Lucien a chance. Rhysand had spoken to Azriel, but nothing. Azriel regretted nothing giving excuses like: “She’s not soft spoken like Elain” or “she’s just not there”.

At first it hurt to hear the reasons when Feyre showed me the memories but then I remembered the male that was going to be on the Autumn Court’s throne, how he loved me when my mate didn’t. He had proved it multiple times through the months. Whether it was by lying with me after a long day or comforting and letting me sob and cry against him when the feeling got too much, when all I could ask myself was why my own mate could not love me. Wondering if I was good enough for anyone.

I had moved on. Slowly maybe, but I had mended my broken heart and I had made a new one, giving it to the man I was about to marry. Not because of his power but because he had waited for me, maybe months wasn’t long for someone immortal like me but he had waited. As I had cried once the pain hit me, had picked up the pieces for me despite the pain he had experienced watching cry over someone else. He loved me through everything.

Looking in the mirror I jumped as I saw a shadow behind me, it’s hazel eyes gleaming as the male prowled towards me. Sitting up straighter I held his stare as his face hardened. “Azriel,” I greeted, wiling my tone to be icy and cold. “Don’t marry him.” His voice was barely above a whisper, sounding like he was pleading, begging almost, “I made a mistake,” he continued, “Elain realised that she preferred to be with Lucien, her mate and now, please don’t marry Eris,” his face softened. Hearing those words from his mouth, my blood boiled in my veins as I demanded harshly, “Why?” “You know why,” He replied, opening his scarred palms towards me, an offer.

“No,” I rejected, showing his hand away, he shot me a look of pure confusion.

“No. you don’t get to do this to me, Azriel. Not when I spent years loving you, months knowing I am your mate only for you to break my heart! I will not be the female you settle for because you can’t have Elain!” I snapped at him. His face fell as if something had hit him like a ton of bricks. “Y/N/N please I-,” “Don’t call me that,” I hissed, interrupting him as he tried to ask again, dared to try and take a step towards me, “I will say it again, I will not be your second option because you can’t have Elain because she chose someone else. Because if I were to go home with you, what if another female comes along who is better them me. What then? Will you dump me on the side of the road? Pick me up when you need me again? I will never give you another chance,” My tone was firm as I pointed at the door of the room, the message was loud and clear.

Just as Azriel looked as if he wanted to say something again, Feyre, cauldron bless her, came bustling in with Nesta both looking like angels. I had chosen an Autumn themed Wedding (obviously) however, contrasting to the bright red flowers some of the bride’s maids dresses were a lilac colour making Feyre and Nesta look gorgeous. Feyre instantly sent Azriel out before ensuring that I was alright and doing some final checks on my makeup and such. Rhys was at the door trying his best to keep anyone else from getting in after what happened with Azriel. After a few deep breathes, I felt calm again and it was time for the ceremony, my heart fluttered as I finally realised, I was about to marry the love of my life whether or not he was my mate.

As the music began, Feyre walked down the aisle, for once Rhys had finally relented that she wold not wear a crown to the ceremony, Nesta went next and as I finally began walking down the aisle I took down the sight of the small crowd. Eris had invited his mother and his brothers along with Hélion as a thank you for taking care of his mother. Azriel was no where to be seen as I finally spotted Eris and the world slowed. Eris was dressed in a simple two-pieced suit with a red tie. As he spotted me his eyes bleeped with pride. I had adorned a wedding dress with a sweetheart neckline while my bodice was highlighted with a corset that came out into a royal length skirt.

When I finally reached the dias the priestess begun. As it finally reached the vows, Eris was first, “Y/N Arcelia Archeron. Did you know that your middle name means treasure? It is a wonder that I managed to catch you from the vast sea when you honestly could have any male you want. I admire your resilience, you everlasting kindness because as those make you. You, Y/N, are my greatest treasure among all the troves in the Autumn Court. I love you and I promise through everything, always for a thousand years and more. I vow to protect and provide for you for the rest of our immortal lives,”

Tears slipped out of my eyes as I gazed into the eyes of the male I loved. Swallowing, I started my own vows, “Eris Vanserra, I cannot say how much I love you. Words you do me no justice, I love you for your patience, your love for me. Why? I know you waited for me through my pain you loved me through it all. I vow to reign the Autumn Court with you, I will piss you off and annoy you for the rest of eternity because we have that together, to whatever end,” Eris looked like he was about to cry but was trying not to. Emphasis on trying.

The priestess, to her credit, kept her composure as she proceeded to complete the ceremony, “If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Silence. One second, another, and as the priestess was about to speak once more, a voice rang out, clear as day as the owner of the voice stood.

“I object!”

Part 3 is out now!

[4dtk]

hello, i hope you’re doing well! can I request holding hands 13, hugs 34, kiss 7 & 31, and touching 38 with johnny? the plot could revolve them finally deciding that it’s time they’re ready to try for kids since they just moved into a new place! thank you <

got carried away. enjoy LMAO

hand-holding, 13: linking hands together during sex

hugs, 34: hugging while grabbing butt

kisses, 7 & 31: passionate kisses, gentle stroking of cheeks

touching, 38: stroking their leg

warnings/tags: dom!johnny, sub!reader, fem!reader, breeding/impregnation kink, daddy kink, brief cockwarming, cunnilingus/oral (f receiving), fingering, missionary, mating press, vaginal penetration

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!!!

"how’d you like the place, mrs. suh?" you can’t help but let out a smile at the honorific, leaning into his side at the stunning place you’d manage to get. taking inspiration from pinterest, the array of options for you was blinding, but soon you settled on a style that you could both agree on along with the carefully crafted furnishings you’ve chosen.

"it’s so sexy," you whisper with a laugh, looking around at the pristine kitchen counters and overhead lighting. you’re saying it half as invitation, and you smile knowingly when johnny turns it around to compliment you.

"ya know what else is sexy?" rolling your eyes, you turn to face him to see a lazy smirk stretch across his face. johnny says nothing more and leans in gently, taking your lips with his in a sensual kiss that shows no matter how cheeky he is with you, the love that’s gotten him wrapped around your finger is undeniably unconditional. in a way, it was literal, too where the silver band wraps around your fourth finger as a reminder of your shared love.

your husband pulls away just for a second, "for how many times i’ve came in you, i was sure i would’ve knocked you up by now." johnny has the pleasure to witness the malfunction of your brain, unable to form any words at the casual sentence he drops about fucking impregnating you. he coos and lets out a giggle when you try to pull away from him in embarrassment.

"you-! you’re really not shy saying those kinds of things?!" playfully you push him away, ignoring the turn in your stomach when he had murmured with a low voice. his apology came in the form of kisses along your forehead right up to your lips where you melt once again into his chilling embrace, fingertips as cold as the arctic while his body emanated warmth. you never understood his body temperature, but you couldn’t care much when his touches leave traces of electricity along your skin.

johnny walks you back, feeling around for the kitchen counter that he accidentally bumps you against. with a muttered apology said in haste, your lover captures your lips with his even more hungrily, using the strength in him to prop you up onto the counter. reluctantly, he pulls away again.

"aren’t you an eager one?" his hand strokes the legs that accommodate him, spread to hold him as close to you while his forehead rests on yours.

"how can i not? you’re so tempting without even knowing it…"

you sigh affectionately, "is it also as tempting as kids running around in our new house?"

johnny jerks back in surprise. "you… you want to try, now?"

with a hesitant smile, you reply, "i mean, why not?" you’re afraid you’ve said the wrong thing when johnny’s surprised look doesn’t let up, but soon you’re met with his contagious laugh, looking at you like you were the only thing to exist in his world. his heart’s never felt so warm before looking at you as it does right now and he has to hold himself back from taking you then and there.

"now who’s the eager one?"

you fail to shove him away, a grin plastered on your face as your cheeks flare up completely now, "bitch, you were the one who made the lewd joke!"

"it was a fact," you roll your eyes for the second time that night, pulling him in anyway to smash your lips with his. you're needy, unable to keep your hands off of him even when your skin is stinging from the cold temperature of the marble counters. johnny groans softly into your mouth, pushing onto your hips more and more to feel any form of friction with you.

he picks you off the counters effortlessly with a tight arm wound around your middle and lazy pecks placed onto your neck.

"do you think we'll get a noise complaint tomorrow?"

pursing your lips and shrugging was your answer, impatient with the countless questions and quips johnny liked to do during your sessions. "okay, okay, i'll shut up." johnny knows you like the back of his hand. it's an obvious feat, certainly, since you decided to say yes to his private proposal on the top of an observatory. under the stars, where they had given their blessing.

johnny knows you like the back of his hand in that way, too. and you forgot how fucking skilful he could be when duty calls.

you find your brows furrowed and your hand clutching onto the sheets for dear life while johnny's tongue relentlessly flicks against your clit. he eats like it's his last meal, both hands holding your thighs open. the warmth of his tongue makes you shiver, already feeling your slick leaking in between your cheeks.

obscene noises bounce off the walls of the new place, sheets already messy from your constant thrashing although everything else — the cupboards, the bedside table, the vanity — looked untouched. at least now you know this innerspring mattress was a good choice.

"you- fuck, johnny!" your moans only fuel your lover more, who settles into a more comfortable position, suctioning your bud into his mouth. your body twitches so much that you can feel the tightening of his grasp on your thighs, stilling you into a thrilling sensation of oversensitivity even before he's got himself buried in you.

"argh- fuck, fuuuck, mhnh-!" johnny swears his eyes roll back at the way you groan out multiple please's, which merges with the whimpers for him to go faster and deeper just as he sticks a finger in. your cunt clasps around the digit easily, mouth now speechless from how deep he reaches into you. "oh my god, j-johnny!"

johnny slips in a second finger, and a second later, a third which you easily welcome with your sopping pussy. he pumps all three into you at an agonisingly slow pace, half focusing on the lewd noises coming from below him and half licking up the arousal that lingers around his lips.

the hooded lids of his eyes stare up at you like prey, lowering his tongue back onto your clit. the combination makes you unravel, little mewls escaping your lips that contribute to the heat of the room.

"johnny- please fuck- please- can you fuck me now? c-can't-"

he shuts you up by sucking harder, causing your thighs to close in around his head. your pleas is not lost to him, but you're more focused now on chasing your high selfishly with how fucking good he's working his tongue despite the slow speed of his fingers.

"impatient." lick. "little." lick. "bitch." lick. he's loving every second where he doesn't give into you. "plus, you're gonna have to do more than that, honey."

"i-i need your cock, please, johnny!"

tut tut. "wrong name, baby." you whimper when his fingers slowly slip out, teasing your gummy walls by rubbing at your hole. you hardly can form any words, but you try your best anyway.

"c-cock, daddy- want your cock so fucking bad-"

"again."

sinking further into the delirious feeling of pleasure, you're willing to let go of any dignity just to have him deep in you, shooting loads and loads of his seed where there's no room for you to not get pregnant. "ah- d-daddy, please- i need your cock to split me open!"

"n-need your cum." the fingers halt, johnny's eyes are filled with you splitting your legs wider and wider. your hole is begging for him, clenching around nothing as it leaks more and more.

he hardly can contain his excitement, pants shimmied down to reveal his tight boxers. it's straining against his already hardened length, and he sighs in relief when he finally pulls the last remaining fabric down showing his tip that's angrily red, aching to be in you just by a few pumps of his hand. "all for you, pretty girl."

the name elicits a bashful smile from you, "need a suck, daddy?"

johnny caresses your sensitive sex gently, "'s okay, just wanna be deep in you. ain't that right, babygirl?"

you can taste him on your lips as he kisses you softly, a hand reaching up to stroke your cheek with a ghost of a touch. his eyes soften just a little before he nudges it into you, playing with your cunt just a little that deliciously clasps around the intrusion. a long groan leaves his lips when he finally gets deep into you, bottoming out in no time. smoothly, he slips an arm around your waist, supporting your arching back that grinds to feel more of him.

"that's right, baby, just like that. moan for me." his thrusts start out slow and you want to cum just from those few movements, his shaft brushing up against your walls so obscenely. your moans are like music to him, lips occasionally lingering at his ears where your repeated calls of daddy, daddy makes his thighs shake and his hips stutter.

you're certain you're drooling by now, trapping the man with your legs. his hips move quicker now, muttering praises that has your pussy fluttering around him and arms curling more around his neck. the line blurs more and more and all that's residing in your head is how good he feels in you paired with the wet pap, pap, pap of his hips meeting your cunt. gradually, the knot deep in your tummy tights like a coil, aching for release.

"god! j-johnny... you're so fucking deeep... hah-" with a tongue lolled out, you can only mumble short sentences, sometimes choked out in a sad attempt to call out to your lover. "ah- i am, a-aren't i? can't wait to- fuck- pump you full of my cum. want you filled to the brim, you'd like that, yeah?"

like a broken record, there's a chorus of yes's that leave you, at the thought of seeing your pussy struggling to take the many loads of johnny's seed as you whine and thrash at the way he'd push it back into you. and that's exactly what he plans to do.

he grunts when you tighten around him, jerking and transitioning into shorter, quicker strokes, desperate for release until he finally bursts. head buried in your neck, hot breaths littering your skin. you're not far behind, toes curling at the immense pleasure you're experiencing that when it comes, you shiver at the way you come undone, relishing in the way johnny spurts the warm liquid into you.

you're left to rest for a minute, his cock still buried in you. he can't get enough of you, he can never get enough of you. that's why he finds himself fucking into you again, the amount of rest not doing much for your sensitive body. it overwhelms you so much that you can't help but let your wanton moans fill the room, riddled with not a single thought.

"you feel so good around me, baby." johnny takes your legs, lifting them up from the previous missionary position. his cock delves deeper the same time he presses them into your chest, eliciting a shameless cry from you, begging him to move. "just to be certain, hm? gotta be sure that you're full of my cum — so i'd have the pleasure of seeing your belly swell up with my baby, your boobs full with milk."

"plus, i'm gonna need to be sure that i'm gonna become a daddy." using an arm to hold your legs down, the free hand grasps onto yours that's holding onto the headboard. he misses the first time, but catches your fingers in time with his thrusts.

"daddy... hah- please, you're filling me up so g-- so good!"

johnny groans, impaling you with his dick with a speed faster by the thousands compared to the previous round. with your legs tucked snugly to your chest, you can do nothing but plead with your eyes for any sort of relief.

"cum- cumming! cumming! jo- johnnyyy..." with a scream of his name, you're gushing around his length, head making a terrible indent into the softness of your pillows. your mouth grows lax, drool leaking from all sides of your mouth before the other's thrusts falter bit by bit. you take his cock to the hilt, balls twitching from releasing into you.

"fuck, baby, take it- take all of it in your pussy." he shoots another load deep into your cunt and you feel sticky all of a sudden, coming down from the intense high of the dizzying state you were always put in whenever johnny was in you. with a kiss to your twined hands, johnny murmurs out i love you to your fingers, planting another kiss on the silver ring that you donned.

weakly, you reply. "love you too, so much." although, you're confused when the other doesn't pull out.

"it's a plug. so i don't have to worry about you not getting a positive on that pregnancy test." you giggle at that. giving into him even when your legs return to their natural state. tenderly, johnny manoeuvres you onto your side, his still hard length resting in you and his hands move to your ass, squeezing it that makes you squeal softly. "it's a win-win. i get a baby, and you won't have to clean the sheets."

"oh my god," your words are littered with laughter, exchanging small talk with the slowly darkening sky with the promise of a little one and a lifetime with johnny suh, the man who'd given you the stars and the moon if you'd asked.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

erode

Neil x Reader

summary: this is what happens when you try to cope with immense heat for way too long  plot what plot 

warnings: 18+ and I mean it, nsfw, teasing, temperature play (listen, I don’t even know, blame it on the weather)

author’s note: I wanted to make it short. They had other ideas. Result? Basically 2,9k words.

I started writing with no particular duo in mind. And at some point I stopped and smiled. 

Hello you two, it’s been a while.

(f!Reader)

The song for this fic is TENDER - Erode

Anyway, enjoy!  ...and let me know what you think, please?

---

“This heat is absurd,” you huff as you flip the pillow to the other side, hoping to find even a degree cooler fabric there.

The cold shower you’ve taken half an hour ago feels like a distant dream, and you’re already drenched in sweat, trying to position yourself strategically to get the most of the small fan placed near the bed. With those crazy temperatures, the chance of getting a stiff neck on the next day seems like a risk worth taking.

“I think I was supposed to kick you in the shin for complaining about warmth,” chuckles Neil and puts down a glass of water on the nightstand, the ice cubes clinking softly. “You're lucky it’s too hot to do so.”

You knit your brows together. It takes you a moment to remember, but then it hits you and you groan. Of course, he brings back something you said during that painfully long stakeout on a freezing December night.

“Why can’t it be just pleasantly warm instead of a variation on The Song of Ice and Fire,” you sigh, taking off the t-shirt. “Fuck climate change deniers, there’s nothing temperate about this climate we’re living in anymore.” You fall back on the pillow, limbs in disarray, longing for a shred of comfort.

With the corner of your eye, you see Neil’s gaze flitting through your body, focusing on the only article of clothing for a second longer.

“You’re one sexy creature.”

His words carry an amused smile and you glance at him, scoffing in disbelief.

“Even when I’m spread out like that?”

“Especially when you’re spread out like that,” he says, moving closer. “Giving me all sorts of ideas”

He leans in for a kiss, but you place a hand on his bare chest, stopping him an inch away.

“Too hot.”

Neil stifles a giggle.“Hot damn?” he chokes out, and you glare at him, but your lips twitch in a smile of their own accord.

“When the temperature drops, I’m gonna give you that hallelujah, or so help me-”

“Promises, promises.” He beams. “I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to give that little sauna fantasy a test run.”

The sole thought of a sauna threatens your sanity right now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” A wicked grin creeps on his face. “Or let me just--”

Neil turns away and reaches for the water again, then finishes it with one swig. He nibbles on the bottom lip, clearly excited, as his long fingers fish out a single ice cube from the glass. The blue eyes light up with roguish sparks when he looks at you. Neil quirks a brow in a silent question, and you nod as your pulse picks up the pace.

He closes his hand on the ice for a moment, then slides the cube to his other palm. You sigh with relief as he runs cold and wet fingers across your forehead, then lets them comb your hair, keeping the wild strands away from your face. A soft smile taints his lips as he moves a bit closer, keeping enough distance so the almost feverish warmth of your bodies wouldn’t override everything else. He steals a quick kiss and then he smirks, rolling to the side and propping the head on his knuckles. His darkened gaze glides over your features, taking in the views and inevitably plotting your demise at the same time.

You swallow with effort as the shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

The ice cube touches the tip of your nose playfully. You are about to huff, but then Neil moves his hand lower and starts slowly tracing the outline of your parted lips, and you can only gasp. Your heat-hazed mind is defenseless, so you close your eyes, allowing yourself to focus solely on the sensation. The dissolving ice trickles down your cheek, the cold droplet tickles and makes you yelp, but when it reaches the neck, Neil shifts and his warmth floods you. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he licks off the wet trail and sucks on that little spot right under your ear. You whine and inhale sharply, ready to protest the sudden closeness, but you hesitate, torn between getting closer to your personal melting point and already craving for more.

Before you can make up your mind, Neil moves away, a smug smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. A tip of his tongue darts through his lips as he catches the exasperation in your stare.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he purrs and shushes your comeback by simply gliding the ice cube to your chin and down your throat.

Your head arches back and you draw a shaky breath, but the cold point travels lower, skates between your breasts, through your stomach, around your belly button, and moves back up. You glance down, transfixed on the slender fingers holding the glimmering cube.

“All right?”

The husky question commands your attention back to his face. Neil studies your expression closely and a flash of fondness strikes your racing heart.

You smile and your hand flies to cup his cheek, “Yeah, it’s -- oh god,” you groan as the ice flicks your nipple. Neil chuckles and props himself on the elbow so he can pin your hand over your head in one swift move. “Concern as a distraction? How sneaky of you,” you pant, glaring at the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It worked, innit?” he says and the mischievous lights dance in the blue eyes as they drop back to your chest. You follow them just to see him cruising the ice cube through your breasts, how your nipples harden when it circles them, again and again until you tremble and squeeze your thighs together, biting back a needy moan. “Look at you, squirming already,” he murmurs, amused.

It’s hard to think, let alone form a coherent sentence, so you just glower and grit your teeth. Neil interlocks his fingers with yours, inching closer, and places a small, reassuring kiss on your shoulder. Then, he palms over the cube and carries on. The warmth and pressure of his hand mix with the coldness of the melting ice, and you sigh and lean into his touch, not mindful of the water dribbling down your sides to the sheets.

He traces the curves and flats of your body. Unhurriedly, but persistently moving lower. Grazes the hip bones, then slides along the hem of your panties. You close your eyes as your thighs come together again, trying to control the bucking hips.

He tightens the hold on you as his hand bearing the ice cube moves to your knee.

Neil’s warmth envelops you once again and he whispers into your ear. “Open for me.”

The request wiping any resolve left in your brain and rushing to your pulsing core. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and comply, earning a pleased hum from Neil.

“Good girl,” he rasps as his hand continues its journey upwards.

“Neil--”

Your weak plea only evokes a throaty chuckle, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He knows what he’s doing. What praise like that can do to you. You see it in his predatory gaze, how he enjoys watching you fall apart. And he still is about to touch you where you need him most.

Neil smacks his tongue. “Not so patient today, are we, my love?” he teases, guiding his large hand up and down your inner thighs slowly.

You want to groan in frustration. You want to shut him up with a hungry kiss. You want him. But instead, you muster some of the strength you have left to control yourself, not willing to give him too much satisfaction. Not yet anyway.

He catches the determined look in your eyes and raises a brow. A corner of his mouth curls and you know that the game is on.

Neil hooks his thumb over a band of your underwear. “May I?”

“By all means,” you breathe out and he lets go of your hand so he can pull your panties down and position himself between your legs.

“Christ, how I adore this view.” He flashes his teeth in a brief smile, his features soften when his gaze meets yours. The extent of love and admiration you see there makes your stomach do a somersault. “You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly and the heart sings in your chest. Then, just when you let your guard down, the blue eyes get dark and yearning. “And mine,” he adds as his knuckles resume the caress.

The pure whiplash from his actions shuts your brain down. You whimper and your whole body tenses when the sleek cube glides over your folds. The cold water joins your own wetness. Your head falls back. The heat that is rushing through your veins has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, but it pearls your temple with sweat just the same. A short pause forces you to look down and you catch the wicked grin forming on Neil’s lips. Your end is inescapable.

You watch as Neil puts the ice cube in his mouth and your eyes widen in sudden realization. He dips his head and then swirls his tongue around your clit and you almost cry out, clenching your fists on the sheets. Hot. Cold. Both at the same time. The pulse pounds in your ears as you walk the line, bold strokes and quick flicks driving you to the edge of sanity. His hand moves up your body, partly to hold you in place. But also to add the fuel to the fire that slowly consumes you. You melt into his touch. You moan. And then he slides his finger inside you and reality begins to crumble.

“Oh yes--” you whine, pushing against his hand. “Please.”

You feel him smile against you and the second finger enters you, then they curl slightly and set the rhythm. You roll your hips and reach down to tug at the golden strands, the only praise you’re capable of right now. Neil’s groan vibrates through you, pushing you to the brink of resolution. And then his mouth envelopes you and he sucks on your clit. The pleasure sears your every nerve, tipping you over, and you arch your back and come with a loud moan. You ride out your high, trembling underneath him, digging your fingers into his arms and then pulling on them, driven by a different kind of need. Neil understands and crawls back up to you, licking your wetness off his lips on the way.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing his knuckles against your cheek tenderly and falls on the pillow next to you.

You nod, still incapable of putting words together. Placing the hand on the back of his neck, you urge him closer and kiss him, grunting softly. It’s hard to level your breath like this, making that act of devotion somewhat sloppy. Neil strokes your hair, deepening the kiss just barely. Fixed on bringing you comfort, first and foremost.

And when you pull back, it’s the eyes that betray him. Full of fondness, yes, but also overcast with desire.

How fortunate you already have an idea how to repay him. Not that he expects it - he would never. But he was so rude, teasing you like that.

And you want payback.

You smile and push him back on the mattress to reach over him to his nightstand. You fish out the biggest of the leftover ice cubes from the glass.

Neil shifts upwards slightly, leaning back on his elbows. His mouth parts as he spots your impish grin.

“Oh.”

“Come on, you really thought I’d let that slide?” you say as you straddle him, batting the eyelashes. You look at the glimmering crystal in your hand, then back at him, raising a brow. “Actually--”

You close your fist and move it over Neil’s chest, and he squirms as the cold droplets fall on his skin. You stare at the way his muscles tense when the water trickles down his toned stomach, and a new wave of excitement washes over you.

You lean on to lay a kiss on his lips, this time a more eager one. Neil sighs when your tongue glides against his and you giggle, breaking the contact. Your noses brush together as you exchange greedy looks, barely containing the animalistic need slowly clouding your minds.

“Not so patient, indeed,” you hum, tipping his chin up with your finger so you can suck on his jaw, letting the hand with the cube ghost over the same spot on the other side. Neil shivers and groans in a way that only boosts your confidence. Your mouth travels down his neck, continuing to play a hot-and-cold mirror game with your hand. You pull back as your eyes follow the wet trails again. Your tongue meets the next one halfway and moves up the chest until it lands on the source of the mess. You look up and you see the blue eyes trained on you, so you smirk, hiding the piece of ice in your mouth the same way Neil did not long ago.

The cube pokes from between your lips as they venture across the body you know so well, but rediscover as you learn its reaction to the new sensation. The goosebumps. The way it trembles. The grunts and gasps that follow. You stop just to get rid of the navy boxer briefs on your way.

The sight ever so gratifying.

Neil’s chest heaves as you start stroking him lightly, but it is when you take his tip in your mouth when Neil moans, sending your heart racing again. You taste and tease him until you hear a stifled curse. Then you drop the ice cube into your hand and you rub it up and down slowly, going back to twirling your tongue over him at the same time. Neil jerks, inhaling sharply and lets out a guttural groan.

“How’s that for a payback?” you ask smugly, enjoying how it takes a moment for him to focus his sight on you.

You recognize the predatory gaze a second too late.

Neil shifts and the next thing you know you end up pinned to the bed.

“Wanna play like that?” he rasps, hovering over you with a sinister grin.

You roll your hips against him, eyes lighting up at the sound of a growl building in his throat.

“Just take me already.”

He crashes his lips on yours and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly. Then, he flips you to your side so you're facing the running fan and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing himself to your back. The moving air against your body helps, but you're way past caring about overheating now.

Neil brushes your hair away so he can kiss the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, his other hand travels south, and you hook one leg over his, squirming impatiently.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathes into your ear, but before you can assure him how mutual the feeling is, he thrusts into you and you moan together, melting further into each other.

But instead of setting a pace, the reckless fingertips trail between your legs again to rub small circles against your clit, and soon enough you whimper as you clench around him. More. Neil bites on your shoulder and groans, finally giving you what you need. What he needed, too. You bury your fingers in the blonde mane. Tugs urging a quicker pace. You close your eyes, climbing the peak again. His touch roams through your body, and then his rhythm falters, and you take his hand in yours and press it to your chest, lacing your fingers together.

I’ve got you.

Neil tenses and hides his face in your neck, gasping frantically, pulling you as close as he can. His high pushes you over the edge and you join him in the rhapsodic release, losing yourself in the pleasure. In the strong embrace. In him.

When reality regains its sharpness, you shift in Neil’s arms to face him. The warmth of affection spreads through you when you meet the hazed gaze. You smile softly as your fingers trace his features. Parted lips. Sharp jawline. The brows, still knitted together. Your heart aches from fondness when you fix the golden strands stuck to his forehead. 

Happy lights dance in the blue eyes and Neil chuckles, panting lightly. You kiss him, then hug him tightly, not mindful of the heat. Of the sweat. There’s only a heavy heartbeat against your cheek. His scent, ingrained deeply in your mind. The slow, calming strokes on your back. Bliss.

“At least with a sauna we’d have a barrel with icy water, you know,” Neil points out casually. “Or even better - a pile of snow.”

“Oh my god,” you snort, pulling back to look at him. “Imagine that,” you sigh as the heat suddenly hits your senses twice as hard.

He grins, taking you by the hand, and places a small kiss on your knuckles. “May I interest you in a very cold shower instead?”

The corner of your lips twitch.

“Lead the way.”

[ncitygirls]

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn’t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

[jeonggukookies]

too young || five

summary: you learn about jungkook’s past, and jungkook and his daughter aren’t too happy about that

word count: 4,116

genre: parent!au, single dad!jungkook angst

one || two || three || four || five

As long as you could remember, Valentine’s Day was your favorite holiday. You just loved making cute valentine’s cards, colored paper hearts and making little mailboxes to put your candy in. Not only that, but you just loved your parents spoiling each other on that day whether it was doing cute things spontaneously or putting love poems on sticky notes every where around the house.  

Valentine’s Day was just the day you wanted to be in love, but for the most part, you and your short term boyfriends never made it that long, so it was just mainly you working at schools, doing arts and crafts with the kiddos, spreading the love to them. 

Today was different. 

You invited all parents to come and help their child decorate their mailboxes, and you rescheduled any tasks or meetings that day as you wanted to spend the whole day visiting each classroom to see everyone’s progress and give candy out. 

Wanting to spend the most time with Jules, you visited her classroom last. Her classroom was well decorated for the holiday. The color pink and red along with messages and puns about love and hearts were found everywhere. 

Standing under the doorway, a smile appeared on your face once you saw Jules in Jungkook’s lap. She was laughing with her head tilted back as Jungkook traced his hand onto the cardboard mailbox. “Jungkook, why are you putting a hand turkey on our mailbox?!”

You talked to every student and parent in the class before taking a seat next to Jungkook. “I love the mailbox.” 

“Do you want to put your handprint on it?” Jules asked as she put a heart shape lollypop in her mouth and snuck one into your pocket. “Me and Jungkook have more for you later, but don’t tell anyone.” 

You smiled and grabbed a red marker from the table. “I would love to put my hand on the mailbox.”

“So I have some news,” Jungkook said as you pushed the marker lid off. “I have to leave a day early next week.” 

Jungkook was going on a business trip overseas for a week, and during that week, Jules was going to stay with you. At first you didn’t understand why Jungkook was telling you, but once you realized it, you dropped the marker abruptly. “Wait, that means you won’t be able to be there with me when I meet the girls.”

“I’m sorry, but I promise Jin is going to make sure it all runs smoothly,” Jungkook reassured you, picking up the marker off the table. “We can wait till after you come back if you want.”

You shook your head, not wanting to wait any longer to meet them. It was bound to happen whether you liked it or not. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

“I promise.” 

After school, you spent the rest of Valentine’s Day making blanket forts and watching movies with Jungkook and Jules, and you knew that you could never get tired of this. 

___________

“Uncle Jin!” Jules excitedly jumped up and down as Jin bent down and wrapped her arms around her. “I missed you!” 

“It’s not as if I didn’t see you a day ago.” Jin pulled away, smiling. “Your cousin is waiting for you in her room.” 

Jules hurried off to take off her jacket and rushed upstairs. “So you’re first meeting Taehyung’s wife first, then Jimin’s and then mine,” Jin quietly explained as he took your jacket along with Jules to put it on the coat rack. “Tae dropped her off first, so you can warm up to her. Jimin’s on his way to drop off Seo-yeon, and Su-ji is still at work and has to pick up tonight’s dinner.” 

He gestured behind him with his eyes where Tae’s wife, Ji-Ho was. You were surprised by her appearance. She looked like a normal human being when the boys had described her similar to the evil queen from Snow White.

"She doesn’t look scary at all,” you whispered in a hushed voice. “Why did you guys try to scare me?”

“Ji-Ho, this is Y/N, Jungkook’s girlfriend. Ji-Ho came early, and we’re just talking about a book idea she has,” Jin said in his normal tone, ignoring the comment you made. “She wants to write a book about being able to forgive and forget.” 

Sitting next to Jin on his white loveseat, you looked and smiled at Ji-Ho who was on the white sofa across from you two, staring at carpet, not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t know you wrote books. Why do you want to write a book about that?”

“The world is a cruel place where people hold grudges over trivial and dumb things. They say they forgive, but never forget. Teaching others and helping them learn to do that will make it seem like you’re mature and able to have peace with yourself,” she explained, now playing with her hands in her lap. “Why hold grudges when you can move on and not give them the power to think about them?”

“I suppose that you can be happier just living your own life when you focus on yourself and forget and forgive.” Jin shrugged his shoulders. 

“Do you think that people who can’t forgive and forget are unhappy people?” You asked. 

“Excuse me?” Ji-Ho asked, finally looking at you. 

“I think what she meant to say is-” You cut Jin off.

“Personally, I think you only need to forgive someone and come to terms that not everyone or everything is going to work out in your favor. Forgetting it is like running away from your problems. It’s not going to go away just because you ignore or forget the feeling; you just will experience it again.” You shrugged your shoulders as Jin muttered an ‘oh god we’re dead’ under his breath. He was shaking in fear, worried about what you were going to say next and afraid of Ji-Ho’s reaction.

Ji-Ho scoffed. “What do you think about forgiving and forgetting then? You think we shouldn’t forgive and we shouldn’t forget?” 

“No, I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying that you’re wrong either because I don’t think we should hold grudges,” you said slowly. “But maybe you can forgive and accept, but you can’t forget, so you can be able to learn and overcome obstacles like that to be a better version of oneself.  Does that make sense?” 

Ji-Ho scoffed, but this time, she smiled at you and looked at you with interest in her eyes. “What is your name again?” 

“Y/N.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She released a laugh, which startled Jin. “I think we’re going to get along perfectly fine.” 

Ji-Ho did open up to you right away, talking about her interests and asking all about you as if she wanted to know every single detail. She was a lot like Taehyung, and you realized they truly were a perfect match for each other. They were both kind, observant and funny without even trying. 

After twenty minutes, Seo-yeon and Su-ji arrived at the same time. Su-ji immediately went into the kitchen with some grocery bags as Seo-yeon took a seat next to Ji-Ho, smiling. 

“Hi, how are you?” She asked, not giving you anytime to think or respond before talking again. “We heard so many great things about you, and I am so happy for Jungkook. It’s about time he finally found someone and that we’re able to meet her.” 

Not knowing what to say, you laughed as your cheeks reddened. You weren’t really good at accepting compliments, but a part of you felt happy, knowing Jungkook was surrounded by people who loved him and wanted what was best for him.

“I got a charcuterie board for all of us,” Su-ji said out of breath, coming out of the kitchen. She placed the large plate on the coffee table in front of everyone and took a seat in between the other wives. “Hi, Y/N.” 

Most of the dinner went well. It was basically like an interview where they were trying to see your strengths and weaknesses, but you still felt comfortable with them, talking to them.

“Can we see pictures of you and Jungkook?” Ji-Ho asked. You unlocked your phone and passed it to Jin’s wife as she sat in the middle and could show them. “It really sounds like you two are both happy and comfortable with each other.” 

“It was really nice to meet you all,” you said as most of the plate was gone. 

“You don’t have to lie to them,” Jin joked. “I know my presence is enough for you to enjoy.” 

“No, I do mean it,” you reassured them just in case they didn’t take you seriously. “Jungkook talks about Jules and his support system all the time, and it warms my heart that you guys were there for both of them when they were struggling especially after their loss.” 

“Oh?” The look of displacement was written all over Su-ji’s face. “You know about Sarah?” 

“Yes,” you answered. “Is that a problem?”

“If you want me to be honest, I never thought Jungkook would see anyone after Sarah’s passing,” Jin’s wife absentmindedly said, thinking it was a compliment. In the corner of your eye, you can tell Jin was giving her a warning glare as if he didn’t want her to say anything else to you.

“Excuse me?” If she was trying to make you feel better about yourself, she was surely doing the opposite, but you hardened your face, so she couldn’t see that her words affected you. You knew that’s what she wanted, for you to be hurt. She wanted a reaction out of you, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of getting it. 

“You know, Y/N, from the way you talked about it, your relationship with Jungkook reminds me of Sarah and Jungkook’s relationship,” Su-ji said once she saw the picture Jules took of you and Jungkook laying down, cuddling in the blanket fort during New Years. 

Although hearing the name of Jules’s mother made your heart drop, you kept your poker face on and continued to act like everything was okay. With confidence, you raised your eyebrows. “I’m not sure what that means.” 

“Jin and I actually grew up with Sarah and Jungkook. We always went on lunch dates together while we were still in school,” Su-ji explained with a murderous smile on her face. “Kook’s a romantic, isn’t he? Opening the doors, cooking home-cooked meal, giving his jacket when it’s cold, and writing songs and poems weekly? He did that all the time for girls when we were younger. He did that for Sarah too.” 

Your face softened at what Su-ji listed. They were all things he had never done for you, and you couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. Did he want to do something new and fresh with you? Or did he just not put in effort and care? 

Most of it wasn’t a big deal. There was nothing wrong with opening the door yourself and being prepared for cold weather. You could have easily just asked Jungkook for a piece of his clothing if you had wanted to. But the thing that bothered you the most was in a span of months, Jungkook has never written anything for you.

He was a songwriter, but somehow, he didn’t have any words for you. 

You knew Su-ji was hurting your pride on purpose, but for some reason, you let her continue and listened to every word she had to say. She stared at the pictures on your phone. “The way he looks at you is almost identical to the way he looked at Sarah.” 

“Su-ji...” Jin warned. “Stop now.”

"It’s almost as if you were Sarah.” Her sharp words cut like a knife. If it weren’t your phone that started ringing in her hands, you would have cried on the spot. You felt a little better seeing Jungkook’s name on your screen. “Oh speak of the devil.”

“Why don’t we call it a night? I’m sure Y/N needs some rest.” Jin suggested as you stared at your phone. “How about you girls go clean, I’ll go get the kids, and Y/N, stays here to talk to Jungkook?” 

The girls, one by one, got up from the couch with their plates, heading towards the direction of the kitchen. As they left, each one of them gave you a look. Jin’s wife gave you a look of resentment, Jimin’s wife gave you a look of pity, and Tae’s wife gave you a look of worry.

You slid your thumb on the screen and answered Jungkook’s call. “Hey. What’s up?” 

“How are you, darling?” His honey voice made you want to cry. All you wanted was to cry your heart out and have his voice and touch comfort you, but he was the reason why you wanted to cry. “Doing okay?” 

“Yeah, the dinner went terrific. I really liked tonight,” you lied, trying not to let your voice crack. “I’m actually not feeling so well, so I’m leaving early with Jules in like five minutes.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? It sounds like you want to cry?” He could read you so easily. “Is something wrong? If something is wrong, I can take the next flight and be back with you as soon-” 

“Everything is fine. Jules and I are fine.” Lie once again. “Please don’t worry.” 

Jules came down the stairs, holding hands with Jin. She ran towards you with a smile on your face, cheering you up a little bit. “Is that Jungkook?” 

“Do you want to talk to him?” You asked, and she shook her head. “Kook, I’m going to help Jules get ready to go home, and I’ll call you back once we’re there. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Drive home safely, okay? I miss you.” 

“I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up the phone. 

Jules put her arms out once she saw you grab her red winter coat from the armchair. As you helped her put her jacket on, you hear distant arguing. 

“What were you thinking, Su-ji?! You had no right to do that! That behavior was unacceptable and immature of you.” Jin whispered as he scolded her. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Talking about Sarah and Jungkook like that! Making Y/N feel bad when she did absolutely nothing to you. He paused. “Sarah might have been your best friend, but she would have been extremely disappointed in how you treated Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you, Jin,” Su-ji snapped. “I personally do not think I do anything wrong!”

“I wouldn’t even be having one if you had behaved like an adult!” He argued back. “Even Ji-Ho didn’t say anything degrading about her. She actually liked Y/N and she usually hates everybody at first.”

 “Don’t you think she deserved to know? All I did was tell her the truth!”

“You didn’t help her!” Helping Jules put her black hat on, you tried to listen to more of their conversation. “You’re unbelievable. I am furious with you.” 

“Sleep on the couch then if you just want to defend her instead of me.”

“If something happens between them because of this, I will never forgive you.” 

It doesn’t take long for Jin to come back to the living room with a forced smile on his face. He went closer to where you and Jules were at, bent down, grabbed the white gloves and helped Jules put them on her hands.

“Jules, honey, aren’t you going to say bye to your favorite Uncle Jin?” You asked. “Thank him too.” 

“Thank you Uncle Jinnie for the food and hugs.” She wrapped her arms around him, instantly, making him smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetie.” He let go of Jules and stood up, making eye contact with you as you put your jacket on. “I’ll walk you out.” 

____

[seokjin]

i want to apologize for su-ji’s behavior. i should have stopped her, and i am sorry. you didn’t deserve that. i know you’re going to tell me that it’s okay, but save it. it really was not okay

you know what su-ji said isn’t true right? 

jungkook only loved sarah as a sister

he didn’t love her like he loves you

i promise

It took you a while to respond to Jin’s text. You wanted to believe his words because he knew Jungkook better than anyone, but his wife’s words kept repeating in your head. 

It’s almost as if you’re Sarah.

did he tell you that? 

that he loved me differently than sarah? 

He didn’t respond, and what you’ve learned in the past is that sometimes no answer is an answer.

___

"Why do you like me?” Jungkook was coming back tomorrow, and before his flight, you called him randomly. “Why me? Out of all people? I’m nothing special.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asked. “Don’t say things like that. That’s not true.” 

“I mean, come on, when you got to know me, I didn’t have a rough upbringing or had a special talent that made me stand out from others. I was just an ordinary person with parents and a few friends.” 

As you waited for an answer, you opened your laptop and went onto a social networking website. Sighing, you looked up the one person that was on your mind lately ever since the dinner at Jin’s. 

“You talk about how I’m so passionate about my dream and how I’m so amazing for growing up and taking care of Jules, but I think about you like that.” 

“How so?” You breathed out, barely audible. 

“Like I know it’s your job to take care of the kids and to make sure everyone is learning, but you take the time to connect with others and strive to make everything better is amazing.” 

Sarah’s profile finally loaded onto your screen. Her profile picture was her and Jules, smiling on a park bench. Scrolling down, almost all her public and tagged pictures were with Su-ji and Jin’s family, celebrating almost every little occasion together. “Really?”

“And I know you want to take care of everyone and you’re okay with being by yourself, but I hope you know that there are people in the world who do care about you and will care about you.” His comforting words made you want to cry. “I care about you.” 

Before you could say anything, the last picture you stumbled across on was a picture of Sarah and Jungkook together at her graduation. Sarah was wearing her cap and gown, holding a bouquet of roses in her hand. She had the biggest smile on her face as she looked up at Jungkook, who was in the middle of laughing. Although this picture of old, Jungkook almost looked the same and had the same features. The only difference was that he never looked quite as happy with you.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, bringing you back to reality. “What’s up?

Clearing your throat, you answered, “Yeah. I just was thinking.”

“I also love everything about you, you know? I love how you have a different, but such an understanding perspective about literally anything,” he said. “You’re special.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m going to sleep now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” You hung up the phone without saying anything, still staring at the picture of Jungkook and Sarah.

“What are you doing?” A gasp came out of your mouth as you shut the laptop lid as quickly as you could and turned your head to see Jules behind you. The look of confusion was all over her face along with heartache. “Why were you looking at pictures of my mom?” 

“I’m not!” You denied, putting the laptop onto the table. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“You were.” She ignored your question, wanting actual answers. “I saw you.” 

She took a seat next to you, looked at your for a long time and looked down at her fingers in her lap. “I know it’s been a long time, but I know what my mom looks like, and I know you were looking at her.”

“Honey-” Jules ran up the stairs, not hearing your explanation or excuse. 

__

“I missed you so much.” The moment Jungkook saw you in the airport, he ran as fast as he could with his silver carry on suitcase, wrapping his arms around you. It was the tightest hug you’ve ever received, and you never wanted to let go. “I missed Jules too, but I really missed you.” 

He pulled away and saw the tiny red bag in your left hand. “I got you a gift for White Day.” 

“You didn’t have to.” Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you two walked slowly towards the exit. “Is this really for White Day?” 

“What else would it be for?” 

“A gift for being insecure?” 

You stopped in your tracks, and he took it as a sign to let go of you. “What?” 

“Well, I don’t know what to think when you asked me things I liked about you, and then Jules telling me you were looking up Sarah.” Not wanting to meet his stare, you continued looking down at the ground at your feet. Once you looked back up, he saw the guilt in your eyes. He scoffed and rubbed under his nose in disbelief, taking your silence as his answer. His tone of voice changed. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why does it bother you, Jungkook? Maybe I was just curious. Is that so wrong?” 

“Except you weren’t! You and I both know that!” His voice grew louder with each word he said. It was the first time he was raising his voice at you, and it was a surprise. He was always the one who always kept calm in the most heated situations. “I told you everything about Sarah.” 

“Not the fact that she was head over heels for you!” You cried.

“Oh my god. Is this what this is about? You wanted to see if Sarah was in love with me?” He shook his head. This wasn’t the Jungkook you knew; he was acting different. “Who even told you that?”

“Does it really matter?” You stared at him. “I was bound to find out sooner or later.”

He shook his head. “No one looks pictures of dead strangers unless they want to know something.” 

“Fine! I just wanted to know if what the girls said was true. They said that you two were madly in love. They said I was practically a replacement for Sarah.  I just had to find out if it was true.” You paused when Jungkook looked away, not wanting to look at you. Not only that, but you noticed there were tears that were about to fall from his eyes. “She was beautiful and looked so happy with you. You looked happy with her too.” 

Silence.

“Seokjin told me that you didn’t love her.” 

Silence. 

“Is that true?”

Silence once again. 

“Jungkook, I can’t compete with her.” 

He finally looked back at you and grabbed your hands. “I’m not asking you to.” 

“I can’t do this,” you cried, pulling away. “I want to be with you and want you to want me because you love me. Not because I remind you of the girl who isn’t here anymore.”

���Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Don’t say that.” 

“Do you realize how badly it hurt when they told me that?” Sobbing, you covered your mouth holding back any ugly sounds you were going to produce. “I was humiliated and felt like I would never measure up.” 

“You are more than good enough.” 

“What am I supposed to think when they told me that?” 

“Believe me and Seokjin when I say that I have feelings for you.” You knew he was trying to comfort you, but you noticed that he didn’t straight out admit that he didn’t have feelings for Sarah. 

“You’ve never written me a song,” The color drained out of his face as he heard your voice crack; you got your answer. There were tears falling down your face, but he didn’t wipe them like he always did when you cried after watching sad movies. “You have never written me anything.”

He let go of your hands. 

You walked away, and he didn’t even come after you. __ 

lowkey not proofread but i really just want to continue this hehe thanks for reading

[write-ur-wrongs]

A/N: Hello! Being on vacation has done wonders for my creativity and I am literally having so much fun writing these prompts. Here is a short fic requested by an extremely sweet anon, for Jaskier x female reader with the prompt: “don’t ever let anyone make you doubt your worth.” From this list of extremely soft prompts. This baby is about 1000 words and, as always, not proofread so I apologize for the typos you might find below the line! 

_________________________________________________________

Today sucked. It was truly and completely horrible. Not only did you get your ass handed to you by a group of ghouls, but you were ruthlessly chewed out for your mistakes; in public no less. You knew Geralt could be rough, especially in the afterglow of battle, but knowing this did nothing to soften the blow of his targeted assault.  

He didn’t even give you a chance to stand up before he started wailing on you, berating you for your lack of skill in battle, reminding you none-too-kindly that your hesitation with your sword could have cost someone their life. The memory of his face, red and contorted in anger as he yelled burned behind your eyelids every time you closed your eyes.

Now, fat, furious tears blurred your vision as you stomped your way up the stairs of the inn, desperate to lock yourself away from everyone’s looks of pity and contempt. Your boots, heavy with mud and congealed blood, were squelching disgustingly with each step you took; another reminder of your recent failings.

You reached your room just as you lost your battle with the tears pooling in your eyes, and let out a strangled sob as you tried to kick off your boots. Despite your best efforts, it seemed that they were in no rush to be discarded and resisted your attempts to wretch them off with your opposite foot. Groaning loudly, you threw your bag off your shoulder and bent over to pull the boot off by force.

However, as the tears kept coming, you struggled to keep your balance and felt yourself start to fall. You hopped pathetically on the one leg, still trying to free yourself of your footwear, when a strong pair of hands closed around your elbow. Agitated and confused, you fought against the support momentarily, but allowed yourself to be held when you finally registered the voice that was softly murmuring in your ears.

Now fully sobbing, you collapsed into Jaskier’s arms, your legs folding beneath your weight. Your sobs shook through your body freely as you felt the cold, wetness of your boots seeping through your pants. You felt like a pathetic rain-soaked child clinging to the warmth of the bard’s chest, burying your face into his neck.

Jaskier, to his immense credit, treated you with far more tenderness than you felt you deserved. He didn’t rush you out of your low and only shushed and coo-ed in response to your attempts to apologize for the scene.

Only once your breathing slowed down, giving way to sniffs and hiccups, did Jaskier pull away, brushing the hair out of your face. “I’ve got a bath ready in my room,” he whispered, giving your temple a kiss, “it’s all yours if you want it.”

“Jask,” you breathed shakily, “I can’t let you-”

“Hush you, I want you to have it. I can leave you, give you privacy? Or,” he sputtered, a light blush creeping up his cheeks, “I can help you? Get some of this gunk out of your hair?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tried, but when your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but let a teary laugh bubble out of you. Giving into his pleading look, you leaned back on your palms and let him remove your disgusting boots before accepting his hand and getting up on your feet. “You are far too sweet to me, Jaskier.”

“Nonsense, my angel, you are far too hard on yourself.”

*

The pair of you walked, hands held, across the narrow hallway to his room in silence. To your great pleasure, Jaskier had been serious when he joked that he’d requested a bath so hot it could scald you; the lavender-scented water was still steaming when you gently lowered yourselves into it.

You were just about to fall asleep, leaning back onto Jaskier’s chest, his chin resting atop your head, when he spoke up – his deep voice vibrating against your back.

“Don’t worry too much about Geralt’s fit today,” he said, drawing circles on your arms, “he only yells like that because he worries.”

“Sure,” you hummed, not wanting to discuss the day’s affairs just yet.

“I’m serious, my love. Trust me, this is how he shows he cares. H-how he communicates his concern. It’s brutish but that’s Geralt.”

“You weren’t there during the battle, Jaskier. Or no, sorry, ‘attack’ would be more appropriate,” you spat, self-hatred bubbling back up to the surface. “I’m a drain on this little operation. I’ve been thinking it might be better if I… stayed back. Left you to your heroics.”

“What?! No, no, no, I will not accept this!” He gasped, pulling his legs back behind you so that you could turn and face him in the tub. His wide, grey eyes were fixed on yours so intensely you couldn’t help but bite your lip in a feeble attempt to slow the blush from taking over your features. Upon seeing your expression, Jaskier softened his own; taking it from stern to supportive in a flash.

“You are not a drain, okay? You’re – you’re incredible! You’re so brave, and kind, and caring. Don’t ever let anyone doubt your worth; especially not you! Hey… look at me. There she is,” he breathed, “there’s my girl. Give us a smile?”

“Don’t push your luck, Jaskier,” you warned, albeit playfully, as you felt a smile pull at the corners of your lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughed bashfully, before lacing his hands under your knees to guide them over his legs and around his waist, securing you on his lap so he could cup your face tenderly. “But I was being serious, yeah? You are, so incredibly valuable to us, to me. Don’t you dare harden your spirit to accommodate him. We need a heart like yours on our team.”

You looked at him fondly then, pulling your arms and legs around him tightly before leaning in to kiss him slowly, deeply, and sweetly.

“I love you,” you murmured, pulling away briefly to catch your breath.

“I love you more,” he replied, pulling you back in, with no intention of ever letting you go.

[mintjamsblog]

Does Alfie ever demand that Tommy calls him Sir?

Okay, this is so late, (I'm sorry, I have sat on this answer for literally weeks). It also answers another ask I seem to have lost/deleted, which simply said 'sub-drop?' So, here you go, it turned into 1600 words of smut, I'm afraid. (Set in my Mistakes AU, but can be read without that background).

Subdrop

"How many fingers Tommy?"

Tommy lifts his head but it drops back immediately.

"Tommy, love, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Ten," Tommy says, without even looking. "Everyone has ten."

"Alright, love, up we come."

It's no wonder, really, Alfie has toyed with him mercilessly for — he checks his watch — fuck, well over two hours, has brought him to the brink of orgasm over and over again, watched his face flush and his thighs tremble and his stomach contract in anticipation of the release he's repeatedly been denied.

Tommy's so fucking pretty when he lets himself go (when he's made to let go) and Alfie, well, he's always been a sucker for pretty things, ain't he? Beautiful things.

Tommy finds it so hard to relax that once Alfie gets him loose, persuades him into handcuffs or a spreader-bar or, immobilises him somehow, his inclination is to make the most of the situation, to wring him out like a wet towel, count every last drop of resistance as it splashes onto the floor — a puddle to be licked up and savoured (metaphorically speaking, of course, there's no way Tommy's licking anything off any floors with his arms and legs fastened securely to the straps of a leather sling).

The silly boy still approaches these scenes as if they're a test of his fortitude rather than a willing exchange of power and trust. And that's fine, mostly. A click of his fingers or a safeword could end it all, but Tommy'd far rather grit his teeth and pretend he don't want this at all. Alfie can allow that for a while, can give him something to bite down on until he's too far gone to care about giving a voice to his plight.

Usually it takes some impact to get Tommy to give up his sounds. He needs to be pushed past some physical threshold. A firm hand, a paddle, a whip — they each make him sing different notes, eventually, but always the same fuckin' undertone. Anger. Whether Tommy's angry at Alfie (likely) or at himself for needing this (even more likely) is neither here nor there. Tommy has plenty to be angry at; the world ain't always been kind to him and he's even less kind to himself.

But anger, well, it's corrosive innit? Useful when controlled, maybe, when mastered effectively and released into the world in small bursts that serve a purpose; to warn or threaten or reinforce the hierarchy. But not when it seethes in your blood, pumps through your heart and into each artery like slow-acting poison that seeps through veins and capillaries, reaches the tip of every extremity, hides beneath every thought. That sort of anger, the sort Tommy lives with, that anger needs to be let. Like blood.

Not that Alfie's some antiquated physician restoring balance to the humors. Nah, he fancies his particular form of therapy's far more effective, even if his tools are barely less crude than the old-timers' scalpels and leeches. Alfie prefers to mix things up, to intersperse the blows of a bullwhip with the soft, wet heat of his tongue; to lash Tommy with a folded belt, then hold his cock like a delicate creature he's trying to stroke back to life. He'll pinch and tease and whip and probe until Tommy rails and rages, fists balled, teeth bared, every muscle pulled taut as tension wire. Eventually he'll scream at Alfie, at himself, at the universe, then let the breath shudder out in increasingly shaky increments, like he's tumbling down the stairs.

The journey to that point is best travelled slow. Given time, Tommy's tight grunts and growls always soften into something looser, gentler, pain still evident in the pitch of his voice, but threaded through with desire and resignation and something else entirely ... an underlying need to give up or give in. To please, Alfie flatters himself.

That medley of sounds, the unwinding trajectory of 'em, awakens some possessive creature in Alfie. He can feel it uncoiling inside him, muscles sliding and flexing as he drives Tommy towards an apex neither of 'em can see — a pinnacle of endurance or restraint beyond which Tommy simply is. Or maybe isn't. Beyond which he is merely a consciousness, untethered from any worldly woes and oblivious to the sensations of his own flesh. Or perhaps oblivious to anything but the sensations of his own flesh. Either way, Alfie knows to watch when the sounds turn animalistic, when the groans are so low and feral that they peter out into breaths. Into nothing. Into rolled-back eyes and gaping mouth and climaxes so molten they look more like pain than pleasure.

"Come on love, that's it, down we come."

It's a struggle getting Tommy out of the sling, he's too exhausted to cooperate, to untangle his own limbs from the leather, so Alfie releases the two lower straps and pours him out like water. Like water he slips through Alfie's waiting arms and pools at his feet on the floor.

"Up you get," Alfie says, hoisting him under the arms, and up Tommy comes, unsteady but obedient in his altered state of mind.  Alfie braces him for a moment, waits for Tommy's body to harden, for a flicker of conceit to return to those down-cast eyes. Now is when Tommy should swipe a hand down his face, curse under his breath and huff an almost laugh, a poor disguise for self-consciousness, but a sign he's aware at least.

But Tommy offers no such reassurance, regains none of the control that usually washes back as soon as he's up on his feet. He's deep, Alfie realises. Deeper than usual.

He whispers into Tommy's ear, small praises that have no place in any moment other than one such as this. His fingers run down Tommy's back, tracing small paths through sweat that's turned cold, an attempt to distract and reassure, but already he knows it's too late. He's left it too late. He can feel the distant vibrations and knows they'll soon take Tommy's legs.

By the time Alfie gets him onto the bed, onto his side, the trembling has tipped into shivering, a violent reflex that even the finest goose-down duvet fails to subdue. Alfie curses himself for missing the cues, for pushing Tommy too hard. "S'okay," he whispers, "you were beautiful."

But Tommy is straining against the hold, against Alfie's leg wrapped over his own. "I need ... I'm gonna be sick," he says, and throws himself into a sitting position with a violent retching sound. The purge that follows isn't from his stomach, it pours down his face in scalding tears that drench Alfie's waiting hands. Tommy throws his arm up and buries his eyes in the crook of his elbow, taking frightening gasps after every few breaths.

"Come on, now," Alfie says, entirely at a loss. Sure, he pushed Tommy hard tonight, but it seemed like what they both wanted. Needed. "Please, don't," he whispers, hands searching beneath Tommy's forearm to thumb away some of the tears. He wants to tell Tommy he doesn't mind, he can cry as much as he likes. Alfie don't see this as victory; Alfie's not him. But he says nothing, afraid of dredging up ghosts as he coaxes Tommy back down to the mattress, runs fingers through his hair, holds him tight against his chest and lets him cry himself out till the tap runs mercifully dry.

"Why?" Tommy says, eventually.

Fucks sake, why what? Why anything? Why do they do what they do to each other? Why does Tommy allow it? Allow Alfie to pull the meat from his preverbial bones? Alfie's asked himself the same question often enough. Not why does he do this, exactly, he's well past shame over that, but why did he get this lucky? Why does he get to do this with Tommy? To see what no one else sees?  Why did he push him so hard tonight? Why did he think Tommy could take it?

"Why did you spend so long ... you know ..." Tommy sniffs, "when there's nothing in it for you?"

Alfie pulls Tommy out from his chest enough to look him in the eye. "Nothing in it for me? Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy?"

"You didn't even come," Tommy says.

At that, Alfie grabs Tommy's arm, fumbling to open the top button of his jeans and force Tommy's hand inside. "There," he says, in his sternest voice. "Nothing in it for me, hmm?"

"Oh!" Tommy says in surprise.

"Yeah, oh, you blithering idiot. Twice. No fuckin' hands."

He watches Tommy swallow, feels fingers flex through the undeniable evidence soaked right through Alfie's boxers.

"Why?" Tommy asks again.

"Why what Tommy? Why does God allow famine and pestilence? Why do good people die? Why didn't I meet you ten years ago, hmm?"

"Why did you fucking come?"

"Because you’re sexy as all burning hell, aren't you? Turn me on like a switch."

Tommy curls into him tighter, buries his face again, and it dawns on Alfie that he really and truly doesn't get it, does he?

"The first time, right, you wouldn't lay back." He keeps his voice low, strokes Tommy's perfect little ear. "I'd fingered you till you were leaking all over your stomach, all over the marks I'd left with the flogger. You should've been way past defiance by then, but you just kept trying to sit up ... your mouth hanging open, like you were trying to fuckin' kiss me." Tommy burrows further still. "So I slapped you," Alfie continues. Maybe that was a bit cruel. "And you only tried even harder. Lay your sinful tongue on your lower lip and strained up out of the sling." Alfie's hardening again at the recollection, at the way he'd thought Tommy was acting, playing the little minx, struggling to reach forward with his wrists and ankles bound to the straps above him. Only Tommy'd never appear so needy, not in his rightful mind, wouldn't chase Alfie's mouth like a newborn pup seeking out its mother's teet. And he'd gazed at Alfie through half-lidded eyes, in that way he had no right to do, like Alfie was the only face he knew in the entire unholy world, like Alfie could fuckin' save him, reach inside his body and take all the pain away, maybe, or make it ten times worse. Like whichever option Alfie chose Tommy'd fucking let 'im.

"And?" Tommy says, when Alfie falls silent. God, he really doesn’t remember, does he?

"And I leant down and kissed you, you silly boy. And I came in my pants, like a teenager."

Tommy makes a wet sound that could be a huff, or could just as easily be more tears.

"Weren't my fault," Alfie adds, defensively. "Your mouth was so fuckin' soft, despite what I'd done to you. And you. You mewled like a Siamese kitten..."

Tommy squeezes him, through his pants, seemingly soothed by the hard line he's holding, proof, perhaps, that Alfie is part of this.

"And the second time ... the second time ... fucking hell. Right at the very end. The last time you came. You looked so fucking fucked-out, love," Alfie's hands are roaming now, sliding over the marks he's left all over Tommy's skin. He seeks out the curve of Tommy's throat, presses kisses there. "All the fight gone out of you. Covered in sweat and welts and come, so exhausted you were trembling ... and please, you kept saying please." He cups the back of Tommy’s head, pulls him closer still. "And I didn't know what for. And I kept asking you, please, what, Tom? but you wouldn't answer. Couldn't, maybe. Too far gone to know." He bites gently on Tommy's ear, at the little crease where it joins his jaw, the tiniest sign of age on his otherwise youthful face.

Tommy's hand is working now, struggling to find its way beneath the fabric of Alfie's underwear. "Then what?" he breathes into Alfie's ear.

"And then you said please, Sir."

Tommy's hand stops dead at that.

"I ... I didn't--"

"S'alright, love, you were under, weren’t you? Too fuckin' deep to know." And there might be a tiny part of Alfie that wishes that weren't the case, that would like to hear that word on Tommy's lips again, but not at the risk of a drop. Hurts too much to see Tommy so upset.

He removes Tommy's hand from his trousers and laces their fingers together, pulls them up high enough he can kiss every sticky knuckle.

"You want me to clean you up, love? Tommy barely shakes his head; his fingers clench around Alfie's hip. "Okay, in a little while then."

Ain't right to feel so tender about being stuck to someone with come. To like the smell of their sweat so much you don't wanna wash it off. Hell, he'd sleep like this all night, in jeans and boots an'all, if it gives Tommy the reassurance he'll so surely claim he don't need.

[catxsnow]

MOTHER DOESN’T KNOW BEST D.W.

Request: Would it be possible to request a Damian one shot abt him protecting you from Talia? Like she dosent like you at all so she tries to either kill you or manipulate you into breaking up with Damian.

Warning: Violence, angst, Talia being a b i t c h, mentions of blood. 

A/N: Take two people. Never trusting mobile to post ever again. Anyways, I hope you enjoy rather than getting just the title lol

Word Count: 4.1k 

Damian didn't like Gotham at first. It was cold, gross, the city was filled with those who didn't understand the greatness outside of the city walls. He hated being away from his mother and grandfather, as well as the strict rule that his father had given him. He was no prince there, he was nothing but a rich man's son.

It seemed at first that Bruce was doing everything in his power to suppress everything that Damian grew up with. No killing, no servants, even hiding him in the shadows with the assumption that his mother was going to take him back. It made Damian feel like this was never meant to be his home.

Even when moving to the Titan Tower, he still didn't feel at home. The people there were childish, irresponsible, he didn't fit in there as well. He didn't fit in anywhere until he met you.

You had joined the Teen Titans just a week after Damian had arrived. A broken upbringing with nothing but your mentors trying to get you to succeed where they never could. You had skills, too many not to put them to use. So, when Kori found you, she welcomed you with open arms - a home that would treat you right.

Much like Damian, you were cold and cut off. Maybe that was what attracted him to you, or maybe it was your skills that put him up for a challenge. Either way, Damian felt flustered around you and he hated it. Lucky for him, you were much the same way.

One long night of sparring with him - an endless battle that neither of you would admit defeat - you had finally broke him down. Damian had you pinned, and as much as he didn't want to let his guard down, he couldn't stop himself from leaning in to kiss you. He never acted like this, like a hormonal teenage boy.

Late night patrols, early morning training, as many hours throughout the day you would spend together. Your teammates - Beast Boy in particular - continuously felt left out whenever you and Damian were together. Only Dick was happy to see that the two of you were spending so much time together.

You were good for Damian. He was less harsh, more willing to accept others, hell he even said thank you more often. It wasn't like you had meant to change him - he just thrived to be a better person because of you. You were everything to him.

When years passed and it was time came for him to move back to Gotham, you had come with him. Damian wouldn't dare to leave you again. Not when he swore that he found - as many would say - his soulmate. You loved Damian, more than anyone ever had his whole life. The feeling for him was new, but he couldn't get enough of it.

It was the first time you were in Gotham. Just like the rumors, the city was horrifying. Crime was everywhere, people dying in the streets, you didn't know how Damian lived there for so long. This wasn't your home, but Damian was. Wherever he wanted to go, you were there with him.

Damian grabbed your hand from across the seat. He was you worried as you looked out the windows. Bruce's home was far nicer than anything you had seen so far, but the drive was still far enough away. You smiled as Damian kissed the back of your hand, a small gesture that made your heart flutter every time.

"You could have stayed, I would have come visit you often," Damian offered to you. A joking smile was on his face. He knew damn well that you weren't going to just stay with the Titans when he was across the country. You loved him too much to have that distance.

"Damian Wayne, if you think I'm gonna let you out of my sight you're mistaken," you half joked. Of course you trusted him with every fiber of your being, but you also knew how damn reckless he was. Bruce would have his back, but he needed a partner, not a leader. "Besides I know you don't sleep well at night."

Damian rolled his eyes. He had told you once that he slept better with you in his arms and you hadn't let him live it down since. You meant this in the best way, you loved to be the reason that Damian felt at peace. However, being in this city, you weren't sure how much peace you would have.

The gates of the Manor finally pulled into sight. You couldn't get over how massive his home was. Damian squeezed your hand as your mouth dropped in shock. You knew how rich Bruce Wayne was, but this? This was crazy. His home was larger than any home that you had ever seen.

Damian's excitement for you quickly changed. Instead of the empty drive way that he had expected, a singular person stood by the door. You watched as his nerves grew tense. It was a woman, dark skin and long hair. She stood as if she expected the world to bow at her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"My mother." You suddenly understood why he was so worried. Damian's mother was cruel, unloving, and only craved power. It had been years since she had dropped Damian off in Gotham and the same amount of time since he had seen her last. Whatever Talia was here for, it couldn't have been good.

The car barely stopped before Damian jumped out. His fists were tight at his sides as he approached his mother. Although you were sure he wished for you to stay in the car, you couldn't just wait. Talia looked less than pleased to see you stepping out of the same vehicle as her son.

Damian joined his mother's gaze. The grim look on his face softened as he saw you. As much as he didn't want you meeting his mother, he was glad that you were there to support him. Unlike usual, he didn't grab your hand, nor did you make the move to. Talia was not the kind of lady you wanted to make a bad first impression on.

It didn't seem to matter though. You hadn't said, or done anything, and she was already glaring at you. To her surprise, you only shot her the same look back. Bad impression or not, you were going to stand up for yourself. Damian would keep you safe, even if it was against his own mother.

"Who is this, Damian?" She asked. Talia acted as if you weren't even there. Damian had told you about her, but you never expected her to be this bad within the first five minutes of meeting her. Moving to Gotham, you were worried enough about meeting Bruce without his cape and cowl, you didn't think you would have to see her as well.

"This is (Y/N)," Damian told her. "A valued teammate, as well as... my beloved," he confessed while grabbing onto your hand for the first time since leaving the car. Talia's eyes narrowed at you - of course she had known everything about you. She kept eyes on Damian, and when you popped up, she learned everything there was to know.

Which meant that she already knew of your relationship. And, if you were to guess correctly, she knew of your departure to Gotham alongside her son. The whole reason she was in Gotham was to see you, or more so to analyze you. Damian should have been with royal blood, not a street scum like you.

"I want you to come home, Damian," Talia suddenly announced. While you only looked up in shock, Damian's face hardened. This was so like her - the second that he was happy and finally feeling at home she had to come in and ruin it. This time, he wouldn't allow it. She didn't control him anymore, no one did. Not even Bruce.

"No," he disagreed. His grip on your hand tightened - whether in frustration or a reminder that you were there - you weren't sure. "I am home. Gotham, the Titans, with (Y/N), this is my home now. I'm not leaving here, not now, not ever. Father is my legal guardian now, not you. You made sure of that when you left me stranded here."

"Damian you belong with me, you belong in the League," Talia's voice was tight. She was obviously trying not to take him by force, not while you were there. Damian was her son, and she would get him back by any means necessary. "Take your grandfather's place, this was what you were meant to do."

"I meant to be Robin," Damian argued. He had done great things under his new alias. So many lives saved, he had learned so much from being there. He learned from Bruce, Dick, his friends, you. He learned so much from you - he learned to love, not to fight. "I'm staying."

"I think it's time for you to go," You spoke up for the first time. If Talia's looks could kill, you would have been dead ten times over. No one ever talked back to her like that, and for someone as lowly as you? She couldn't accept it. If it wasn't for Damian stepping between the two of you, you swore that she would have made an attempt on your life right there.

Without another word, Talia left the Manor. You didn't realize how tight your grip on Damian was until he placed his other hand over yours. You loosened your hold, and as soon as his mother was out of sight, collapsed into his arms. Damian held you tight, though he wasn't sure if it was for your assurance or his.

"It's okay, my love," Damian whispered. He kissed the top of your head, your forehead, and finally your lips. "She won't be an issue for us, not while we're with my father."

"I trust you, Damian. Always."

><

It had been weeks since you were in Gotham. Bruce had taken you under his wing for the time being. Damian was protective of you as always, he wouldn't let you leave without him. To be honest you were happy that he was at you side. Gotham wasn't the kind of place you wanted to venture on your own.

It was different without your teammates watching you back. You only had Damian to have your six and sometimes that lead to some close calls. In the end, he always kept you safe. No matter the situation, he would protect you at all costs.

On that cold night, Damian had gone out with his father, leaving you home alone. Your wrist ached from your previous night, and although you promised that you were fine to go out, Damian insisted that you stayed in. So, with your wrist wrapped and a movie playing, you felt more relaxed than you had in weeks.

Damian left you that evening with a firm kiss and a promise that he would be back before you knew it. As always, you melted into his hold, never wanting to let him leave you. He left with promises to you of making up for it in anyway he could. Damian just wanted you happy while he was home.

He thrived every day to see you smile. Seeing you happy was the only thing that he cared about anymore. So, seeing your pout as he hopped into the Batmobile beside his father nearly convinced him to stay with you. Alfred was gone for the night which meant that you would be truly alone for the first time since you had joined the Titans. The silence would be tranquil.

Unfortunately for you, that peace didn't last long.

After training to be a hero your whole life, you could feel when someone was sneaking up on you. At first, you assumed it to be a robbery; Bruce was rich. But as Batman? His security was near impossible to get into. Whoever this was, they were good. Really good. Your phone buzzed beside you, but you didn't have the time to check what it was.

The blade of a sword sliced through the air, narrowly missing you. You had been just quick enough to roll out of the way. The intruder wore a mask covering the lower half of their face, but you had known instantly who this was. Talia Al Ghul.

You assumed she had come alone. If she saw you as nothing but a low-life hero from the streets, then she assumed that she could handle you by herself. Truth be told, you had never gone against someone as skilled as her, she could easily handle you on your own, especially with your weakened wrist.

You ran through the room and towards the kitchen. It was far closer than the entrance of the cave - and you were sure that she knew where it was as well. Talia ran after you. She ducked the second she ran into the kitchen - you had thrown the closest frying pan towards her head. Thankfully it distracted her enough to grab some sort of weapon - a knife.

It was much shorter than her sword and it felt awkward in your opposite hand. You hoped that Damian and Bruce were already on their way back, that it was him texting you earlier, but you knew not to get your hopes up. Alfred was gone for the night and you were truly alone in the house.

Talia twirled the blade around before lunging at you. She did attack after attack, each one barely being blocked by your knife. You needed to get to the cave, at least then you stood a chance with some actual weapons. Unfortunately, you weren't quick enough to block her next shot.

Talia's sword sliced through your shirt and into your arm. Blood soaked your skin as you cried out in pain. You knew that she didn't like you, but to go as far as to assassinate you within her son's home? That was pushing far past being a terrible mother.

Glass shattered as you ducked from her next shot. The lights above you sparked as she broke though them. The room had become pitch black and you only hoped to use that as an advantage. You knew this house far better than she did.

As long as you could get a head start to the cave, you would be fine. Silently, you slipped past her, hoping to avoid the crunch of broken glass on the floor. Talia was a trained assassin, sneaking around her would be impossible - and it was. The second she heard your footsteps, she had blindly attacked.

The tip of her sword nicked your cheek, but it was enough to let her know exactly where you were. Without caution anymore, you ran full speed to the entrance of the cave. Thankfully, you had made it before her.

You grabbed the first weapon you could see - Damian's backup sword. It felt heavy in your opposite hand, but as soon as you tried to hold it in your dominant, you nearly cried out in pain. Damian was right, you were too hurt to go out that night; then again maybe it would have been safer if you had. Talia must have been waiting for the opportunity that you were alone.

Talia stood before you, her mask still up. "What's wrong, Talia?" You asked, her eyes narrowed as you said her name. "Jealous that your son loves me more than you? Or maybe that Bruce cares for me more than he did you? This isn't about Damian not coming home, this is more personal than that, isn't it?"

"Damian belongs with royalty," Talia ripped off her mask. You knew that you were riling her up, but you only hoped that it would waste enough time for Damian to come, if he was coming. This was a fight you could not win alone, you knew that. "You're nothing but filth off the streets."

"So what, you're gonna kill me?" You backed away from her. Your heart rate was erratic from fear. Damian was a damn good fighter, but his mother? She was deadly. "How're you going to explain that one to him? How do you think he's going to react when he finds out that you killed the person he loves? He'll never want to see you again."

"He's never going to know it was me!" Talia raised her voice. She charged towards you, bringing her weapon down towards you. You just barely blocked it. The sword was extremely uncomfortable in your hold but you it was far better than a measly kitchen knife. She could tell you were weak from it.

Talia pushed down harder, the edge of her sword coming dangerously close to your face. In the blink of an eye, she pulled away and grabbed your weakened wrist. Talia slammed it into her knee, making you scream in agony. You dropped your weapon to grab your now broken wrist, falling right into her palm of her hands.

A forceful kick was placed against your ribs, knocking you down and making you completely at her mercy. Your body screamed in unbearable pain. Blood soaked your clothes, your bones broken or cracked. Talia had taken you down in a mere matter of minutes. You never stood a chance against someone like her.

To your surprise, Talia dropped her sword as well. There was no way that she had suddenly changed her mind or decided to give up, she had you right where she wanted you. The smirk on her face, knowing that she had defeated you so easily, was etched into your brain. Whatever she was planning, she had already won.

Talia pulled out the gun strapped to her thigh. You hadn't even noticed it until this moment. There was no way that you would ever dodge a bullet, not at this range. With a last chance of hope, you reached out for you sword once more - but she was too quick. A bullet shot rang out as it bounced off the floor inched from your hand.

You retracted back to your place, looking up at her with a grim look. There was no chance you were about to plead for you life. Talia had the gun pointed directly at your forehead. "You'll never have my son."

"Neither will you." Blood dripped down your face. You gripped onto your wrist, and tried to steady your breathing. You refused to look away from Talia's murderous eyes. Death awaited you - that was something you had to accept. Talia had no mercy.

Suddenly, a light blinded Talia's face. Her gaze was averted, but that wasn't what caused you to falter. A loud shot echoed through the cave, followed by a searing pain. In her brief moment of loss of attention, Talia had pulled the trigger. She had missed her hopeful target, instead the bullet and pierced your shoulder, creating a sickening crack as it went through bone.

"NO!" You knew this to be Damian's voice. He hovered above you, panic written all over. His hands pressed into your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. He could hear the battle of his mother and father but all that mattered was you. He was petrified for you. Your eyes wavered, wanting so desperately to fall asleep.

"You're going to be okay. I promise, stay with me. Beloved, you're gonna be fine. Stay awake, please. Please I need you. I need you to stay with me." He was the last thing you saw as darkness clouded over you.

><

Talia had done a lot of damage to you. The cut on your arm, and your cheek needed stitched. Your collar bone practically shattered and you would need to wear a brace for months before it was healed. The wrist she had snapped would heal like any other broken wrist would. Cracked ribs and a broken ego. You were benched for a long time to come.

Damian wouldn't leave you side. He was there if you needed anything or if you were in pain. Guilt clouded him, he should have known that his mother would do something like this. He was a fool to leave you alone like that. Never again.

"Be careful, beloved."

You liked the attention from him. Damian was at your side more than he ever was before. In private, he was constantly covering you in kisses. He showed a side of himself that you or anyone else had never seen before. It was nice to see him so... normal.

Damian spent every spare moment with you. Whether it was helping you with simple tasks that you were yet to be able to accomplish or be there to give you a kiss when you were feeling down. The last thing he wanted to see was for you to fall into a funk because of his mother. He tried his best to keep your spirits up but this was hard. Harder than anything you had done.

Years of being the one to save people and now you were the one that needed to be saved. It was unbearable. You hated the feeling of constantly needing help. Damian made sure to not suffocate you, he knew what it was like to hate feeling pitied.

Evenings were spent trying to get you back on your feet. Nights spent with Alfred, watching of your boyfriend and his father. Damian coming home to smoother you with attention the second that you were alone in his room. That was your favourite part of the days.

Everyone hoped your recovery to be speedy - even your teammates went out of their way to visit you. It was nice to see all your friends together again, as well as the rest of Damian's family that you had finally met. It seemed that everyone had gained a vendetta against Talia that night.

"Damian, I can do this, you just have to give me some space."

When you finally got the cast on your wrist off, you had gone straight back into training. Much to Damian's dismay - as well as your doctor's. The sling was still on your shoulder, and would be for several more weeks. However, you were tired of sitting around like this. You felt weak from the lack of training.

Damian watched as you stood under the pull up bar. You eyed it, curious as to if you really could do this or not. In one swift motion, you jumped up and grabbed the bar with your single hand. Holding yourself up wasn't the issue, it was a matter of if you could pull yourself up with only one hand like you used to.

With all the strength you could muster, you attempted to do a chin up. You had almost made it before your arm gave out on you. Your hand slipped from the bar and you barely landed on both feet. Damian was by your side in a second, though he could see how frustrated you were at this. He understood not being able to achieve what he wanted most.

"You don't have to prove your strength to me, beloved," Damian assured. He cupped your cheeks with both hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss. However, as the pad of this thumb swiped across the scar that his mother left he frowned. Even after all this time he still blamed himself of this.

"And you don't have to feel guilty for what happened," You countered. You placed your palm over top of his a small smile on your lips. "You came and saved me, that's what matters. Like you, Bruce, everyone, said, I'll get back to where I was eventually. Things like this happen, I can't let it stop me."

"You're too brave," Damian shook his head. Always pushing your limits, defying your odds. As much as he admired it, he wished that you wouldn't. Damian wanted you safe, and sometimes he questioned if that was ever going to be found while you were with him. However, he wasn't willing to lose you to test it. You were by his side, always.

"I learned it from you, my love."

[kojinnie]

Dream Me Home: Before Shiganshina

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Reader (gender neutral)

Tags: angst, mild fluff, established relationship (implied), canon universe. Reader is one of the Veterans. spoiler alert if you haven’t gone through anime S3

Summary: Moments shared with Erwin Smith leading up to his timely death. A three-chapter story, surrounding moments before and after the Battle of Shiganshina.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Set after Levi tried to convince Erwin not to head for Battle of Shiganshina.

This will be a trilogy, with the next two parts coming up soon! All the time set before, during and after Battle of Shiganshina. Hope you enjoy this!

There was an evident pain in the eyes of Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe as they stepped out of Erwin’s office, and you could feel the weight of their stares immediately fell to the floor when they met your eyes.

Your steps were heavy as you approached them, but it was obvious that they had no intention to making a stop at you. Just Hange passing sympathy to you, patting your shoulder in consolation and Levi, the ever so quiet soldier, murmuring with regret, “We couldn’t change his mind. Sorry.” 

And then they both strived on. Leaving the hallway leading to Erwin’s office as quiet as it was before.

You could feel the stonewall of Mitras grew cold at your touch as you leaned to it, as you gathered what’s left of your heart. You had been anxiously pacing outside Erwin’s office for hours, wishing that there was enough power in Hange and Levi’s words in convincing Erwin to turn away from the eyes of war. You had been wishing, that if your solemn plea did not get to Erwin’s heart, at least his camaraderie with Levi and Hange would. As it happened, it all turned out to be nothing but a wishful thinking.

The afternoon sunrays dispersed through the columns of Mitras, and they made a beautiful gleam of warmth on the hallway steps leading to Erwin’s office. There’s beauty in living, you thought to yourself and it saddened you because you did not understand why Erwin would want to leave this all behind.

You racked your brain, trying to gather all the things you would reason to him with. All the beauties in the living he could see: The glimmer of Trost’s cobblestones underneath the street lamps; the joyful shriek of kids basking in the summer heat; the piercing cold of winter expedition outside the wall; or even, the mundane military briefing with the odd bore that Darius Zackly was, where Erwin would steal a glance at you across the room. And then the smile you faintly threw back at him, or the butterflies within your guts as you saw him rose from his seat, laying out his battle strategy before the eyes of the Wall’s most important men. Would those be enough reasons to soften the hardened heart of Erwin Smith?

He knew you had been lingering outside his office, evident by his call to you just now. His deep voice seeped through the door that wasn’t fully closed, “You can come in now.”

You knew what it was not to cry, to dismiss your emotion for it was the worst weakness a soldier could ever possess. Battle-born and inured, you had no privilege of being fragile when it comes to the fate of all human: death.

So, you remained stoic, as you walked in to his office.

“Commander.”

“Captain.”

Your eyes met, and the look of agony was apparent in the skies of his eyes that had grown cold and tired. He averted his eyes from you, quickly to the paper works laid out on the desk in front of him. Your heart broke to see the struggle he had writing down simple notes, slowly and carefully by each alphabet, as he was still trying to make use of his left arm.

You closed the door behind you and made your way to him, repossessing all the self-restraint you had, “You’re a difficult man to sway.”

Once the door was closed, and there were only the two of you, you could feel warmth started to grew in Erwin. Something unbeknownst to other soldiers but you, “I am,” He said with a dim smile, “Unfortunately.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” there was a bitterness in your statement that you masked by pacing around Erwin’s office, staring afar at the view of the afternoon through his windows.

“I would, if I still had my right arm,” Erwin laid out a large parchment, and reached for the ruler, staring at the squad formation that he had strategized, “and not be a dead weight to my soldiers—do you mind?”

You quickly helped to hold the parchment and the ruler in place, as Erwin drew formation lines with his left hand. Shaky, he messed his inked.

He gruntled in annoyance and threw a new parchment on the table, signaling you to take over instead. You had become acquainted of Erwin Smith’s thoughts and ideas, and without much direction you drew the formation he was meaning to draw.

“I will lead the cavalry here,” he pointed at the forefront of the formation, motioning for you to draw accordingly, “the rear will be packed with new recruits. Unfortunately, it will be our most susceptible point. I’ll have Levi there.” You drew an x with red ink on the places he’d pointed at, a mark signifying the position of humanity’s strongest soldier.

“Where Hange and the kids will be?”

“They’re not kids anymore,” he retorted in dismay, there was almost a pain in the way he spoke, “not since the wall broke.”

He had grown to care for the kids, you came to realize. The 104th Cadets who got so deep in the crossfire of humanity’s last effort to survive, and now they’re at the front-line of it. Retaking Wall Maria was the mission, and Shiganshina was the destination. This was the city decimated by the might of the Colossal and Armored Titan years ago, the beginning of a prolonged dark sequence in a life that was already a living hell. And now they were to return, at the same place it started, facing the same Titans.

You remembered it, fighting for survival through the hurdles of cobbles and rubbles, as houses and buildings of Shiganshina flew like debris across your head. The uncanny stench of guts and blood, as you made your best effort to keep anyone alive from the wrath of the giant devils.

The way your Scout uniform latched on to your skin, dampened by the blood of mothers and daughters – is a memory forever ingrained deep within your mind. You were there, and the fear never left you. That’s why you left the Scout and joined the Garrison, “serve where you may” were the words that Erwin uttered the day you announced your repositioning, as you coped with the possibility of losing Erwin, each time he braced another expedition outside the wall. No longer with you close to him, or in any position where you may give aid whenever danger bruised him. You were selfish, but Erwin understood your decision.

“Is this the formation you’re going to use against the Beast Titan?” you asked. There was an immediate scare creeping through your spine as you mentioned the devil’s name. You had heard of this newly emerging titan; a creature of horror, one that was so menacing with capability beyond compare. The one that took Miche, and the one that Erwin had to face now.

He did not say a word, only a nod.

“Have you fought him before?” The wariness in your voice was getting apparent, as emotions started to defeat your trained restraint, “how do you know your standard formation would work on him?”

The Commander sighed, validating your fear. Ever since he lost an arm, his balance had been quite compromised. He put his hand on the surface of his working desk for support, as he sat himself down on his leather-bound chair.

“You don’t.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Erwin paused for a moment, and slowly tilted his head up to look at you towering over him. It was a foreign sight, to see him wounded and fragile as he had always been the shield of courage to your feeble heart, “I do not. I want you to know that.”

“What will happen then?”

Erwin looked down, his right hand reached to where his left arm used to be, massaging it softly. You knew he had not coped well with his injury, the sleepless nights, the ghostly itch, the deprecation he inflicted towards himself. Erwin Smith was not used to being looked down and pitied, and it frustrated him to no end. When the news broke that he would be heading for the mission, everyone thought the same, ‘He is going to die’, but no one had enough guts to tell him directly to his face but Levi and you. Everyone thought that Erwin was oblivious to this possibility, but only the two of you knew that Erwin already anticipated the possible lethal end for him, and still, it would not dissuade his choice. Erwin had made his decision.

Erwin reached for the ruler and pointed the lines and crosses you had drawn, elaborating the plan of capturing both Colossal and Armored Titan with the explosive device that Hange had invented. He talked about the prospect of retaking Wall Maria, its details and strategies, and it was upsetting that at times Erwin would treat you like you were only his soldier, not someone who had been close to his heart for years.

You softly put down the ruler in his hand to the desk, as your eyes fell on his, “Erwin, what will happen to you?” The Commander in Erwin dissipated in your presence, and you could feel his eyes started to display the vulnerability he had sworn to disguise to no end, “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“That’s true.” He muttered, holding the hand you had on his ruler. His thumb softly caressed the skin on your knuckles as he dragged his stare away from your eyes – gazing afar at the afternoon skies that had turned warmly tinted as the sun fell, “Levi was adamant that I’d return as a corpse if I go.”

The coil in your guts grew tighter as you gulped your despair down with the pretense of a toughened comrade, “I share his foresight.”

“You do?”

“Erwin, I do.”

The words hung in your throat like a tumor. You realized, death has countless faces, and you have encountered many of them, yet Erwin’s would be the one death you may never recover from.

Erwin smiled, taking your hand to his lips and kissed it long, closing his eyes with an odd serene look on his face, “In another world, you would say those words in a completely different circumstance, you know?”

You cackled, because you had no better response to that, but even trying to humorize the predicament you were in only pain your heart further, “Yes, I know.”

The tears finally broke soundlessly, it seeped through the crack of your broken heart, and cascaded down your face to Erwin’s relief, as he realized he still held what’s left of your heart, “What will become of me then?” you asked, “Without you?”

He stood up and pulled you closer, cupping your face with his coarse hand and kissed the eyelid where the tear had fallen from, as he said softly, “I want you to listen carefully.”

You nodded, and peeled your face away from his hand. Listening like an obedient soldier that you were.

“If I don’t make it, Hange will lead on as the Commander. Levi, he will make it out alive. He must.” Erwin eyes didn’t leave yours, “Many of us will not be returning home. If I be one of them… I want you to take me home. Whatever left of me. I want you to be the one to recover my body, and lay me next to my father.”

“My soldiers will need your help. If the time comes and a messenger has been dispatched to confirm that we have won the battle, I want you to bring your Garrison squad to Shiganshina, to help the wounded, and bring the bodies home – to peace that they have died for."

You nodded, although his words swarmed your mind like piercing knives. But you nodded, because you wanted to be strong even when the strength that you always leaned yourself on was to depart and never return.

You looked once again at the divine blue irises that taught you all about duty and tenacity, and imagined the life you could live on if Erwin and you weren’t born in the lap of despair that you called home. In another life, you would hear music of peace and pride, not somber wail of war and wrath. But for now, you chose to live and savor the painful taste of goodbye.

“I’ll be close behind, Commander,” you said with a faint smile, dusting yourself up, “you can count on me.”

Erwin passed a solemn nod as he pulled you in closer to the last embrace you would have with him, and whispered, “Dream me home, my darling. Dream me home when I’m no longer here.”

Hey guys! Thanks for reading it. So far, this is still one of the works that I enjoyed writing the most, so glad if you happen to like it!

ADD-ON: Anyway, if you like this and wonder how Levi x Reader version the night before the battle would be like, @weepinglevi wrote Levi's conversation with his S/O the night before the battle. And I really love her works so much, you can check hers here.

Hope you have a nice day and remember: Erwin loves you.

Or you can check my Masterlist here!

[the-last-kenobi]

With anyone from the disaster trio or duo! (sorry I realized I didn’t say characters in the last ask!)

@badthingshappenbingo

Tripwire

(TW for panic attacks and minor and unintentional emotional abuse. This is emotional crisis in the middle of a war. Nobody in this story is at their best.)

••

Ahsoka sometimes thought that her Master never had rough days.

Oh, he had days when his temper was high - and those days were more frequent as the war went on and on and on - and days when he was more tired, more sad.

But he never seemed to have days where he just wanted to sit in a small, dark space like the far corner of his room or the dusty storage cabinet near the engines and hold himself together with his own two hands and just cry himself to exhaustion.

She tried to ask him, once, on a day when he seemed brighter and calmer.

“Master?” she began.

Then she stopped. Tilted her head to one side, listening with her montrals to the happy rhythm of his heart.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Snips?”

He was glowing with happiness, so excited just from his phone call home. She wasn’t stupid. Like the rest of the 501st - and 212th - and hells, maybe even the entire Order - she knew that her Master and Senator Amidala were... a thing.

Whatever that was, exactly.

Maybe, she contemplated, not noticing that she had begun to hunch in on herself a little, shoulders drawing in, maybe that’s what Anakin had that was different. Rex had Cody and the rest of his brothers, Anakin had Senator Amidala.

Ahsoka was just by herself.

“Hey,” Anakin said, sounding a little concerned. “Ahsoka? What’s up?”

The togruta shrugged, casually sliding back into her normal relaxed and confident self, the bravado she’d created years ago when she first began to suspect that nobody would choose her as a Padawan, and then built up again when she was assigned and dropped into the middle of open warfare.

And now again, struggling always with that urge to flee somewhere warm and small and safe.

“Nothing, Master. Sheesh. I was just wondering about the next class rotation. I really don’t want to retake Galactic History level 240 just yet...”

They moved on to other subjects.

••

She tried again, a few months later, shaken after a crushing campaign that stripped the 501st of some of their best and very, very many of their newest. The shiniest shinies.

Ahsoka searched the encampment they had pitched on the darkened moor, but she could sense Anakin from a mile off.

It was just harder for her, the closer she got to that epicenter of muted rage she could sense coming off him like heatwaves off sand.

But... they could help each other.

He didn’t have Padmé Amidala here today.

Today, right now, they had each other.

Ahsoka crept up to the dimming fire, set several meters away from the outer circle of tents, and saw the dark silhouette of Anakin Skywalker sitting on a low outcropping of rock, gazing into the flames. The red glow outlined him in faintest fire, sharpening the edges that darkness had softened into shadow.

“...Master?”

He didn’t seem to hear.

“Master... Anakin?” Ahsoka stepped a little nearer.

His head turned very slightly.

She froze, suddenly a little frightened, suddenly wishing she’d found her own warm safe place to be — because the ember-lit outline of Anakin’s face were neither safe nor warm.

He looked enraged.

“Anakin?” she whispered.

“Now isn’t the best time, Ahsoka,” he said slowly. Holding back. For her.

Giving her a chance to run.

From him.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not Anakin. “But, Anakin... I think...” she took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, crouching down to place one of her hands gently on his arm. He trembled. “I think we should be together right now. Help each other.”

He shook.

There was a long pause.

Then: “Go away, Ahsoka.”

Her heart fell like a stone.

What was she supposed to do? Fleeing to a dark corner felt so wrong, so un-Jedi like, so weak — and now, to abandon her Master when he was so hurt? It felt like a double sin. She couldn’t do it. It would be wrong (but it was so tempting—)

“Master...”

“Go, Padawan! Now!” He turned to face her fully, his teeth bared in a predatory sneer that made her own sharpened fangs and hunters blood quail. A wall of blunt rage slammed into her like a blast of hot wind and Ahsoka fell back, catching herself on her palms in the cold grass.

A flash of something like guilt crossed his face, not much older than her own, but then hardened again.

“Jedi do not feel these things, Ahsoka,” he lectured. “Much less act on them. Go eat your meal and then get some sleep. Wallowing won’t help.”

Do as I say and not as I do?

Ahsoka sprang to her feet and gave in to the wild pounding of her heart and the icy fear clawing at her lungs — and she fled.

••

Ahsoka felt like she was falling.

She could feel her feet thudding against the dewy ground, could feel her montrals trembling as they picked up noises all around her, but all she could see was darkness and it felt like she was running in midair, held up by nothing.

Shadows rushed past her and her breaths came rapid and out of control.

She was dying.

She had to be.

This felt awful, terrible, there was no control —

She was just going to lose her breath and lose her senses until she died here - wherever here was -

Was she crying?

Maybe.

She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find her way in the dark.

Ahsoka crashed.

Blindly she crawled her way into what she could sense was some sort of corner.

It was warm here.

Dark.

Safe.

The feeling of walls and a floor and some sort of low ceiling pressing in all around her small form made her feel better, not worse. She could feel where she began and the shadows ended.

Slowly... slowly... slowly, Ahsoka Tano felt her soul begin to settle back in her flesh.

She could understand her surroundings better now.

She had shoved herself under cot in somebody’s tent. It really was warm here. Soft. It smelled familiar, the smell of the armor-polish-stale-soap-homemade-brew-standard-woolen-blankets and that something other that was just their men. Their boys.

Ahsoka could feel now how tightly she was curled up, how hard she was gripping her own limbs, still shaking.

Her throat felt raw.

Had she screamed? Cried? Or just gasped too much for air that hadn’t been coming?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know a lot right now.

Does this make me a bad Jedi?

Or just a bad solider?

Which one am I, anyway?

“Padawan?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t —

“Ahsoka?”

She took a shuddering gasp, then another.

She just wanted some answers.

For once, some answers.

No “do or do not,” no cultural languages she couldn’t understand, no envy of what Anakin had in his Senator, the forbidden things she didn’t understand and didn’t know she really even wanted.

She just wanted to know if she was wrong for this.

She had to be.

No real Jedi cried in a corner because someone reminded them they needed to be strong.

“Ahsoka.”

Finally she looked up.

“Master?”

It was Anakin she longed to see - the Master who hadn’t wanted her but had taken her anyways, the friend she’d always needed, the teacher she could never have dreamed of.

But it wasn’t Anakin.

It was Obi-Wan.

He looked down at her, and his eyes were so compassionate that she felt her own begin to well with tears again and her throat close up painfully.

Angrily, she swiped away a tear and hid her face in her arms.

There were soft sounds that told her that Obi-Wan was kneeling in front of her now.

He didn’t do anything.

Didn’t encroach, didn’t speak.

He just breathed.

And breathed.

And breathed.

Steadily in and out, and unconsciously Ahsoka began to mirror him, taking calm and even breaths.

Eventually it was just the two of them breathing together, the Master kneeling, the Padawan still hiding from the world.

“...Master Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka asked in a small voice. She lifted her head, and was struck again by how sad and tender her grandmaster’s blue eyes were. He looked so soft and comfortable, contrasted in her head with the memory of Anakin and his fiery outline and clenched jaw.

“Anakin...” she struggled to say. “I thought he... I hoped... why...” her voice broke again.

Unable to help it, Ahsoka pitched forward, sobbing again. She had already cried so much that her throat burned in protest, but cry she did, and this time she found herself wrapped in Obi-Wan’s arms.

She had never pictured this. He had always seemed so... aloof. What Jedi were meant to be. What she was not. What Anakin was not.

“I know,” he said slowly, his voice rumbling against her striped montrals. “Our teachers are not always what we want or need them to be. But we love them anyway, Ahsoka. Don’t we.”

She nodded as she cried, letting him hold her.

“I — thought — I — how am — does — d-does this — am I a — am...” it was utter nonsense coming out, but somehow he seemed to understand.

“You,” he said, “are a student. A very young student, despite how tall you may feel some days. War is hard on everyone, Ahsoka. You deserve better. It’s all right to have times like these.”

“You... you don’t,” she sobbed.

“Oh,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “Oh. Yes I do. Of course I do. I work my way through with meditation and tea. Anakin needs to be alone, and then he needs to vent. Normally he vents to me, or to — others. But it’s not your job to handle his outbursts. When you’re hurting, you go where you need to go.”

“Even if it’s a dark corner?” Ahsoka mumbled into his tunics.

She felt him chuckle slightly. “Even then. Especially then. We’re all dealing, Padawan. I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about this, before this happened.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka muttered.

What she meant was: isn’t it my Master’s job to guide me? Isn’t it Anakin’s job? Am I too weak for him?

“We’ll do better,” Obi-Wan promised.

She had a feeling he meant: I’ll try to make Anakin do better. And when he doesn’t, I will.

And there was an overwhelming flood of emotions with that.

Thank the Force for Obi-Wan. But why not Anakin? Was this forever? Was this why her Master and Master Kenobi didn’t always get along? Because they were emotionally different? Would they shun her eventually too, if she turned out different from them both?

...But for the moment, Ahsoka took comfort.

Anakin would be back to normal in the morning.

And Obi-Wan’s arms were warm, and dark, and safe.

fin

[peoniarose]

Worry

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader

Word count: 1429

Rating/Warning: Angst, slight fluff (hopefully it came off that way, if not sorry)

Summary: As a last-ditch effort, the reader tries to voice her worries about Bucky seeing Zemo again, but her words don’t seem to make it out of her mouth. However, that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make its way to Bucky.

Author’s Note: This entered my mind not too long ago upon watching the latest episode of TFATWS. I plan to expand upon this scene but wanted to get a feel about how you all feel about this. Also, the reader’s codename is Sparrow. (ALSO, if you read this before you will notice that there have been some changes. Nothing big just the usage of you, your, and Y/N. I haven’t written with these in use, so let me know if this is okay and if you jive with it. I wanted to try this out. I am thinking of making an OC for this seeing as my plans for this does include some last names. Let me know what you think.)

                        _________________________________

Before he could walk any further to the man who caused him so much pain, you reached for him. His gloved clad hand was being held firm within your grasp. You didn’t mean to, but your hand seemed to instinctively reach out to him.

Bucky turned to stare at you. He had to do this. He had to talk to Zemo in order to get the information they needed and your vice like grip on his hand wasn’t helping him achieve his goal. He tried tugging his hand back, but your grip only got tighter. His jaw tightened and his eyes hardened as he once again tried to pull away from you. He saw your eyes twitch as your grip didn’t let up.

You didn’t dare to let go. You couldn’t, wouldn’t. You saw the disaster of what happened last time. The hurt and pain that Zemo had caused Bucky. Zemo framed and manipulated Bucky to meet his end goal in destroying the Avengers. The thought of him doing anything to hurt Buck in any way again made your heart squeeze. You didn’t want him to go through that again. Your mouth opened ever so slightly as you tried to voice your worries and concerns. You knew Sam tried to last night, but maybe you could somehow miraculously pull them away from this dreaded place. They were on the tip of your tongue, wanting to sneak pass your lips, but when you caught another glimpse at his hard-set eyes you faltered.

“Let me go.” Bucky bit out, harder than what he intended. You flinched ever so slightly at those three words as well as his tone, hoping that no one noticed your subtle movement, but Bucky saw it and more importantly Sam saw it. Your hand slowly peeled away from his and found its new home on your opposing arm’s elbow. Your eyes found a peeling line segment on the ground and focused on that. You didn’t want to meet his harsh glare.

Sam’s jaw set as his gaze on Bucky made imaginary holes into his head. It was bad enough that they had to go to one of the worst villains they had gone up against, but making you upset because you were worried made Sam even more displeased. And he hoped Bucky could feel it.

Bucky knew he was in the shithouse when he felt a set of eyes boring holes into his skull. He didn’t mean to be harsh; he just didn’t know how else to tell you that he will be fine. That he can handle this, hopefully. He didn’t need you to hold his hand. His fist tightened for just a moment. Upon hearing the leather glove squeeze, he let out a sigh and let his shoulders drop.

Ultimately, he was fortunate with your kindness, your graciousness, your overall being. But how does he even voice that? How does he show it? He didn’t know how to fully process it. In the past he only had Steve worrying and caring for him, but then he lost him, and everything was up in the air. Having others show even remotely the same kindness and emotions as Steve did left Bucky off kilter. Who would want to do that for him? This is what made him unable to properly respond. This is what made him not answer about 98 percent of your messages that you had sent him.

Bucky struggled with wanting to try to do something to attempt to soothe you and wanting to continue his trek to Zemo’s cell. Looking over at you once again he decided that the latter was best. Turing around he made it not even two steps when he stopped. A vision of you smiling and gently squeezing his hand in reassurance in Wakanda suddenly entered his mind, and he wanted to kick himself. You had shown him nothing but your absolute best and he was acting like a world class jerk. Bucky let out another sigh and turned around. He could see the worry on your face even though it was trained to the floor. Why were you sticking with him? He knew it was nothing out of pity. You were a genuinely nice person who did things out of the goodness of your heart, and yet he still often times found himself questioning you.

At this point he wanted to pull his hair out. He needed to make up his mind at the moment and stick with it. They needed to get things done and he didn’t need his confused emotions getting in the way. Before he could turn away again, he allowed his eyes to soften ever so slightly and untightened the imaginary screws in his jaw.

You still had your eyes glued to the floor as you felt a set of eyes on you. You wanted to kick yourself. You often prided yourself in showing your emotions to your friends. It’s what made you feel settled and relaxed. You relished in this because you couldn’t do this around your parents when you were growing up. The thought of making Bucky uncomfortable enters your mind and your grip on your elbow gets tighter. You didn’t think your actions made Bucky feel uncomfortable, but it probably does, and you should have thought of that before.

“I’ll be fine, Sparrow,” Bucky said in a softer tone. Your name slipping his lips in a gentle manner. You snap your head up to him, unfamiliar with his tone. Bucky somehow managed to pull off having a stiff, tough exterior with eyes that have considerably softened only for you. A small intake of breath and slightly reddened cheeks later, you cut a glance towards Sam to see if you were hearing things. The Falcon had found a letter and number combo that was slightly peeling on the wall to suddenly be the most interesting thing in the world, which told you that you didn’t imagine Bucky’s words or his gentle tone. Your eyes met Bucky’s once again as the right side of your lips quirked up. To you the smile felt pathetic and too small, but to Bucky it filled his heart with a warmth that he hadn’t felt since Steve.

He wanted to reach out and grab your hand, but he felt that it would be too much. Besides the small smirk on Sam’s face let him know that he would most definitely get an earful later when you weren’t in their presence. He settled on a tiny smile that he hoped got his point across. Bucky turned around and this time stayed on his path to Zemo.

His point indeed did get across. His smile dampened some of the worry that wormed its way into your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel it getting tighter and tighter with each step that Bucky made, getting closer to Zemo. Your hands clenched in a fists near your hips as you thought about him talking to that man.

Sam picked up on your anxiousness and worry. It oozed from you in a way that he hadn’t seen since they went up against Stark at the airport. He sometimes still can’t believe how you manage to remain stoic and calm in front of an enemy or in the face of battle, but within the confines of your friends you let your walls come crumbling down and openly display your emotions. He remembers, from their time on the run, you mention that your parents, father in particular, were cold and closed off. It made you feel alone and in despair. Your parents’ attitude made you not want to make others feel what your parents made you feel. You wouldn’t even wish it upon your worst enemy. You genuinely believe that if villains had a great enough support system, then they wouldn’t turn into villains. Your heart bleeds for everyone which is why Sam has been so protective over you ever since you met. Sam would gladly bandage and guard your heart no matter what came your way.

You feel a gentle squeeze over your fist, breaking you from your thoughts. Looking down you sees Sam’s hand coaxing your hand from its balled-up fist form. His hand holds yours, giving it another gentle, reassuring squeeze.

You meet his soothing brown eyes and a sense of calm washes over you. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in releases and your shoulders ease ever so slightly. A small smile works its way over your lips, and you squeeze back, silently thanking him for his reassurance.