#Cause it takes me months and months to get truly comfortable

[jpitha]

The Long Way

This is an edit of an old one of mine.

"No" Cellmenian's voice rose in pitch. She was trying to hold back the rising tide of panic. "No." Her fur bristled and stood out straight, making her look fluffy. Without knowing why she did it, humans might call it cute. It was not.

The blast had only happened about an hour ago. They were en route from Sol to Parvati, a ferry flight of the Starjumper City of Troy, when three of the four reactors had oversped and exploded. If that wasn't bad enough, they were just about to engage their wormhole generator and link over when it happened. The explosion had caused an overload of power to flow to the wormhole generator, and they mis-linked. THe wormhole generator was sheared in half, with the other half somewhere else in space. Deep in interstellar space, Troy was able to triangulate their location from known pulsars, but that was a small comfort when they calculated how long it would take to cruise to where they could be rescued.

"I'm sorry Celle, It's the only way." Kat said, shrugging. "We're too far from the warp gates; we lost most of the reactors in the blast. Hibernation is the only way to get back. It won't take that long. Maybe a decade."

The humans had explored space for a long time before they found other sapients in the galaxy. Long enough to try out just about every different kind of way they could think of to shrink the distance between stars. Most other sapients think the humans insane for the different ways they made "canned mammal" and flung it into the abyss.

They assumed it was some human thing; a desire to leave their planet by any means necessary. They thought the humans were trying to escape. They were right, but not for the reason they thought. It wasn't escape the humans sought, but exploration. The need to see what was out there with their own eyes. The need to go somewhere new.

Among the more gossiping sapients were whispers that there were still human generation ships, soaring in the interstellar darkness between stars. Ships where whole cities of people grow up, live, love, and die just to be caretakers of their hibernating colonists. Being born, living, loving, creating the next generation, and dying not even knowing that their compatriots back home can now warp between stars in days and (for the truly in a hurry) punch holes in spacetime and link between planets with a wormhole. When asked, the human authorities get quiet and make noises that make it clear that this line of conversation is done.

Only the humans make wormholes, the other sapients shudder at the insanity of it, yet, will still use their systems when they need to be somewhere right away.

"Cellmenian?" It was City of Troy, the ship. "I do not have the printable mass to repair the wormhole generator, and even if I did, the reactor's destruction severely limited my power producing ability. I can thrust towards Parvati, but at this distance, it will be... a while before we get there. I am sorry."

"No!" Cellmenian was screaming now. "You can't consign me to spend however many years it takes for us to get to a place where we can be rescued when I...when I..." She broke down, sobbing. "When I have my family to get home to." She slid down to the deck, sitting rather than passing out, tears streaming from her large eyes. "This was supposed to be a one month trip!" She cried "One month!" Kat couldn't help but notice that the K'laxi cried just like humans did. She didn't mention it though, Celle was going through enough.

Kat sat down next to her friend and said nothing. After a while, she put her arm around the smaller sapient. "I'm sorry Celle." She whispered. "If I could wave a hand and fix it, I would."

They sat in silence together, the gravity of their situation pinning them to the floor.

"What about everyone else?" Celle asked.

"Unfortunately, many of them were caught in the blast." Troy said. "You, Kat, and a few others are all that is left. They are all preparing to enter hibernation as well."

"And you're just okay with this?" Celle's ears and tail were flicking in irritation. "Most of the crew is dead, and you're all being entirely too calm about it."

"Well, for one thing, we've had training." Kat said, gently. "We understand that even though we've been a spacefaring species for a long time, accidents still happen. Any trip we take could be our last, or could take so long that everyone we know is gone by the time we return." Kat sighed. "And for another thing, if we stop, we'll die too, Celle. We will mourn them when we're safe. For now though, we have to put it aside for our own survival."

"A beacon!" Celle stood suddenly, unsteady on her feet. "Why don't we link a beacon to Parvati for help?"

"Our supply of beacons was destroyed in the blast." Troy said. There was a touch of sadness in their voice. "I am making a note to recommend that emergency beacons be placed in other areas of the ship for future revisions."

"So that's it then." Celle said, sitting back down, her eyes welling with tears again. "I spend decades in a box, and when I awake, everyone I know is old or dead."

Kat said nothing, she just sat with Celle.

"Okay." Celle said, with a sniff. "If we're going to go into hibernation, I want to do it now. I want the shortest possible time conscious before I see my... family...again." as she blinked, more tears ran down her cheek.

"Well Troy?" Kat addressed the ship. "Are the hibernation berths printed?"

"Almost, Kat." the ship replied. "Luckily, I had some data from Contact about K'laxi needs in hibernation. You can both hibernate safely for the boost home. You'll climb into the cabinet, close the door, and before you realize what happened, the door will open, and you'll be at Parvati."

"Let's go then. No time like the present."

[herbofgraceandpeace]

not sure my boss knows how to handle that I am. anxious. at all times? So. There’s that

[targaryen-dynasty]

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other. 

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids. 

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting. 

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after. 

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either. 

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for. 

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.  

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men. 

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company. 

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it. 

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North. 

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.” 

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl. 

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more. 

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders. 

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said. 

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words. 

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room. 

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground. 

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace. 

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss. 

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips. 

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence. 

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you. 

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown. 

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately. 

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet. 

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one. 

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing. 

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame. 

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him. 

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat. 

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs. 

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin. 

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady. 

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you. 

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact. 

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl. 

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss. 

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him. 

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time. 

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion. 

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination. 

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back. 

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood. 

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead. 

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you. 

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting. 

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.  

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame. 

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans. 

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.” 

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you. 

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now. 

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more. 

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him. 

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping. 

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return. 

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice. 

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you. 

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face. 

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.  

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence. 

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.  

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

[lxvebun]

if it's okay could you write something about simon asking the reader to stay the night and it will be the first time they sleep over? no pressure ofc!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader. Fluff! i'm yearning for fall/winter so it's written with that in mind. The heat is getting to me🥲 not proofread im nervous. Eng isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

“I should probably go."

It took you an embarrassingly long time to finally get those words out. Every minute ticking by only making you more and more nervous to actually say them. You truly don’t want to leave just yet. Don’t want to pull away from your place next to him, tucked into his side, soft, warm. A strong arm wrapping around you keeping you nice and close to him, occasionally his hand traces invisible heart shapes and silent i love you’s into your skin. 

(a habit that has shifted into his love language. Simon Riley loves quietly, but deeply. And moments where he can get his hands on your skin to spell out his devotion to you, fingertips burning pleasantly, leaving behind a trail of falling stars, is something he makes time for often)

It feels all too safe and domestic to leave just yet, but the colder months are approaching and it’s well into the evening now. The sky has already completely settled into a deep dark blue with clusters of stars and a bright full moon. The streets however are still lively, early sunsets and longer nights having no affect on most people's schedule. People are coming back from a long day at work, couples are running their last errands at the corner store and old grannies are coming back from their weekly bingo night down the street at the community center. Right now, it still feels safe enough to walk back home on your own. Without a doubt, Simon would offer to walk you, but he’s barely made it through your annual movie night and you’d rather not keep him from his much needed and well deserved sleep.

(it would not be your first time walking home alone at night, don’t tell Simon, but you prefer not to. Being so hyper aware of every movement and every sound is tiring and your 15 minute walk back home feels like you just finished a marathon)

He shifts next to you, the haze of sleep laced in his movements, a groan of disagreement falling from his lips as he throws a glance at his watch.

"T’is only eight, sweetheart. You never leave this early. Something wrong?" A twinge of worry coursing through his voice, brows furrowed at the thought of you being uncomfortable. His hand changes from tracing shapes to rubbing comforting circles into your side, albeit a bit frantically.

(he’s so attentive it honestly makes you wanna cry sometimes)

"No, nothings wrong," You begin. Smoothing the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb and placing a gentle kiss to his jawline. "I just don’t want to walk alone at night. Nor do I want to keep you from your sleep"

You’re quick to add the last bit, practically hearing the words "I'll walk you " escape from his mouth already.

He doesn’t make an attempt to remove his hands from your waist, or sit back up straight. On the contrary he’s taken it to melt into you a little more, pull you a little closer and you think he’s doing this to convince you to stay

(it's working)

even months deep into your relationship, every sweet touch and gentle kiss still manages to cause your heart to soar and flutter in your chest.

He takes a moment to just look at you, and it makes you avert your eyes at its heaviness. Too sweet, too piercing, you feel like he’s looking into your mind and soul, breaking it open like a book and taking everything in. Usually, he coaxes you with delicate words and a warm hand on your jaw to keep looking at him but he’ll let you look away for now. You who’s so sweetly tucked into his side, you who feels so warm and peaceful against him it makes him wanna squeeze you to his chest and never let go. How could he possibly let you go when you look so content and so safe in his arms. From the look in your eyes and body language alone he can tell you feel good here, that you want to stay. He’s right but It’s the nerves, the shyness and not being sure where his boundaries lie that make you pull away from this moment

"You could always stay the night." He whispers, honeyed and soothing. Making sure you know there’s no pressure behind his request. It makes something warm curl in your heart

He’s been thinking about it often, what it would be like to wake up next to you. Seeing you first thing when he opens his eyes all angelic and soft in the golden morning sun rays, sleeping in his bed, draped in his sheets. Would you have any special night routines, would you like to use a nightlight or do you prefer complete darkness, do you move around a lot, are you cuddly. It honestly takes over the majority of his thoughts when he goes to bed himself. Finds himself imagining in detail what it would be like and he swears that he sleeps best on those nights. He can only imagine how good he’ll sleep next to you.

Your silence would worry him if he wasn’t able to read you so well. A hitch in your breath, eyes looking everywhere but him, a shy smile tugging on your lips

(you’re so cute)

"I’d like that." Your voice comes out soft, a little vulnerable but you know you’re safe. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You’ve been thinking about it too. Spend many nights imagining what it would be like to curl up in his arms and drift off to sleep. Waking him up with a plethora of kisses to his face. Making your respective morning drinks in the kitchen together, stealing kisses in between sips. Thinking about it always leaves you feeling a little dizzy.

His response comes in the form of a wet kiss to your forehead that trails down to your cheeks, then the corner of your lips before finally pulling you into one. You'll choose to spare him and not comment on the flush on his cheeks, just this once

"I’ll go grab a hoodie and some sweatpants, you can use those to sleep in"

reluctantly, although motivated by the image of you in his clothes, he stands up, warmth slipping away for a moment before it’s contained again by the blanket he drapes over you.

"I’ll grab the clothes, you pick another movie"

With that he makes his way to the bedroom to retrieve said clothes. Before you can pick up the remote to pick a movie however, his voice booms out of the bedroom

"Do not pick twilight. Can’t stand that edward fucker."

Perhaps the Notebook will be more to his taste then:)

thank you for requesting nonnie! and thank you for reading angels!

[leclerc-hs]

do i wanna know? (pt.2) - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions with your brother's best friend OR it was never just sex between you and your brother's best friend warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, badly translated french (prob), angst!!!!, not proofread!! word count: ~2.3k author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTY!!!!!! i am here apologizing for being MIA for so long. if this is SHIT I apologize I just have been struggling with writer's block for months and have been very stressed and busy with work!!! I really tried my best so don't be too mean to me over this lmaooo. I love u all!!! there will be more of them to come ;) also since it's been so long since I've properly written this MIGHT be a little rusty so pls forgive me

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE TRANQUIL MELODY of the waves crashing against the shore is truly a captivating sight. You sat by the water in an oversized t-shirt and bikini bottoms, absorbed in the symphony of nature. So engrossed were you in the soothing sounds, the glistening water, and the caress of the breeze, that Charles’s approach caught you off guard.

“There you are,” his voice resonated like the ocean. You sensed the warmth of his presence as he settled beside you on the sand, propped up on his hands.

Though you didn’t turn to face him, you could feel his gaze fixed on your profile.

“Do you think we’re being stupid?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

“Quoi?” What?

“I just don’t want to hurt Pierre.” You finally turned your head to look at him. “Was it a mistake?”

You didn’t think it was. But the more you sat and thought about it, the more stressed over the situation you became. 

“No.”

You smiled softly, pulling your knees up and resting your head upon them as you truly took in the sight of him. 

“I think we should do it again.”

-

The two of you fell into a pattern quickly.

“Such a dirty fucking slut,” Charles groans out loud as he looked at the sight of you on your knees before him. His cock was heavy in your hand as you slowly start to pump him. Pre-cum leaking from the tip, oozing onto your fingertips. It was a gooey mess.

You stare up at him with a smirk on your lips as you take in his flushed cheeks and his pale knuckles from clenching the countertop so tightly.

“Mmm,” You moan as you bring him to your mouth, swirling your tongue around him slowly. You suck lightly before dragging him in and out of your mouth. 

You swore you could look at him for forever and never get tired of it. You were constantly in the depths of convincing yourself it was nothing but sex. 

“So fucking beautiful.”

“Could stare at you all day, mon ange.”

But is it really?

-

You’re not sure when it changed. But it did.

The gentle warmth of the morning sun seeped through the delicate curtains, causing you to let out a soft groan as you slowly awakened. Shifting in the bed, you squint against the bright light, and eventually force yourself to emerge from the cozy embrace of sleep.

As you turn your head, your attention was instantly met by the striking view of a broad, bare, and muscular back dominating your view. Instantly, a swarm of butterflies fill your stomach.

The early sunlight cast a soft glow on his smooth, tanned skin, accentuating the sculpted contours of his muscles. His breathing was steady and calm, a comforting rhythm that contrasted with the crisp morning air. His hair, slightly messy, fell against the nape of his neck.

The gentle upward curve of your lips was almost instinctive as you reached out toward him, running your fingers through the soft wisps of hair at his neck.

He lets out a small grumble as he shifts around, his face nestled in the pillows. Then, he turns to you, his gentle smile already in place before he opened his eyes. His arm drapes over you almost instantly, tugging you into the warmth of his body and immediately peppering soft kisses to your neck.

“Je pourrais rester ici pour toujours.” Could stay right here for forever. He whispers in between the soft kisses.

You feel the blush form on your cheeks almost instantly.

“Me too,” you respond softly.

“Do you think we could?”

The longing to say yes tugged at your heart, but you resisted, knowing the potential complications it could bring. Instead, you laughed, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts about the chaos and challenges that might follow. For now, it was just the two of you. Just two regular people.

No Pierre. No burdens of the outside world.

It’s been weeks of this. Whatever this was between you. You both found yourself too greedy to give it up. The sex was too good. He was too good.

-

Strong fingers intertwine with the strands of your hair, a delicate tug at the roots sends a tingling sensation cascading across your scalp, igniting a fiery yet exquisite sensation that dances on the edge of pleasure and exhilaration. 

“Nous devons faire attention.” We need to be careful. You softly groan as your bare back becomes flush against the contours of his chest, slightly dampened with sweat. The pace of his hips doesn’t falter as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Pourquoi?” Why? You know he’s teasing you. “Want me to stay hidden, hm?” The one hand that rests against the soft skin of your hips squeezes hard, as if he needed the reminder that you were here and, in his arms, and on his cock. “Ton petit secret sale?” Your dirty little secret?

The words wouldn’t come. Every time you tried to speak, they tangled in your throat, choked by the weight of the situation. You wanted to tell Charles that you didn’t see him that way, that he meant more to you than anyone else. But your brother…his best friend, loomed too large over whatever it was you two were.

You struggled to hide your wince as Charles places a quick but harsh squeeze to your throat. 

“Not even that will shut you up, hm?” He groans in between each thrust. “Pierre is in the room next over. It’s like you want to be caught.”

“Maybe I should just call him in here, hm?” 

You felt yourself pushing back against his thrusts, meeting him in the middle at a feverish pace, needing to remove the ache between your legs.

“Let him see how big of a cock slut you really are.”

You shook your head, soft moans escaping your dampened lips as his arm slips down and presses to your clit.

“No?” He eggs you on. “You’re just my little cockslut, right?”

You nod eagerly, your head lolled back against the crevice of his shoulder and neck for support. 

“Say it.” He demands, his fingers quickening on your clit. “Tell me you’re my little cockslut while you cum all over me.”

“I’m-“ You struggle to get the words out, too caught up in the way his cock slips in and out of you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and the groans escaping past his lips into your ear.

“C’mon mon ange,” He grits. “Make a fucking mess.”

“I’m yours.”

It happened so fast, it was almost a blur as Charles hurriedly pushes you face first into the mattress, hips slamming into you at such a speed, you both went soaring over the edge of your orgasms.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both caught your breath, little laughs and smiles as both of your bodies lie in a tangled mess.

-

“The Gala is coming up,” Charles spoke. His throat burning in anticipation as he waited for you to catch onto what he was implying. He wanted you by his side. Wanted you on his arm. Wanted no one to touch you but him.

“Nous avons déjà discuté de cela.” We’ve discussed this already.

Charles could slowly feel the annoyance building in his chest as he pushed himself up off the bed, dragging his body to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth to clean you up. He wasn’t used to this, to say the least. And he wanted you to himself so fucking badly.

It wasn’t until after his finished cleaning you up, that he spoke again. “Combien de temps?” How long?

You sat up, slipping on whatever article of clothing was closest to you. No doubt, one of Charles’ worn t-shirts that draped to your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side just slightly, encouraging him to continue.

“How long will you avoid telling Pierre?”

-

Giving Charles the silent treatment was probably the worst thing you could’ve done to him. But you didn’t know what else to do. 

Your back was turned to him, the burn of his eyes on the nape of your neck had you on high alert. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet his gaze.

The room felt colder with each passing second, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. A part of you wanted to turn around, to meet his gaze and to find some way to fix whatever this was. But the fear of what you might see in his eyes—hurt, anger, hunger—kept you frozen in place. Well, as frozen as you could be while dancing with another man.

He was proper cute. Tan skin, chocolate eyes, scruffy hair. His name, however, slipped past your mind. You think it was Rob. Or was his name Ryan? Something with an R. You think.

It didn’t help in the slightest bit that Pierre is the entire reason you’re in this situation to begin with. He practically forced you into the arms of Rob. Or is it Ryan?

“You look beautiful tonight,” The man looked down upon you, a small grin on his face as he twirled you around the dance floor. A small blush crept up on your cheeks.

“Merci.” You thanked him. “How do you know my brother?” You needed to keep the conversation going. Anything to take your mind off the stare burning your skin from afar.

He opened his mouth to begin a response but was instantly interrupted as soon as the voice of another was by your side.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Charles began, but he was clearly anything but sorry. His voice was stoic, void of any emotion but annoyance. “I need a word with you.” And before you could put up any argument, his fingers clasped onto your wrist, dragging you away from the dance floor and out of the ballroom.

Despite your protests for him to slow down, he continued at his unrelenting pace, tagging you along without regard to your inability to keep up. Charles then ushered you, if one could call it that, into what appeared to be a cramped coat closet.

The dim lighting obscured the usual green hue of his eyes, leaving you uncertain whether it really was the poor illumination or his evident anger that caused this change.

“Are you crazy?” You half-shout, waving your arms in the air in frustration once you pull your wrist from his grip. “You just made an absolute scene in there!” 

“I made a scene?” He raises his voice in frustration. Like he can’t believe that you have an issue with his behavior when you were the one dancing with another man. “You might as well just go fuck that guy on the dance floor!” 

He knew he was talking in fits of jealousy, and he knows that it’s wrong. But he couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t help but have an outburst over this situation. You didn’t even look at him the entire night.

“It was one dance!”

“I don’t care if it’s just one. It may as well be five hundred!” He sneered while his fists clenched at his sides. “Je ne partage pas.” I don’t share.

“I can’t do this right now.” You pleaded softly.

“Do what, exactly?”

“This.” You silently begged for him not to continue questioning. To not go there.

“And what is this?” or what he really meant is ‘what are we?’.

You both fell into a silence as the weight of the question weighed down on you both. You didn’t want to reach this point. You both knew what it was, but you weren’t ready for the answer. It was supposed to be fun and just sex. Something Pierre would never need to know about.

Charles took your silence as an answer. But he refused to accept it. He made a small step towards you, his green eyes locked onto yours, to which you retreated one back.

“Please don’t come closer,” You begged with a small quiver of your lip. “I need you to stand a step away from me.” You knew the moment he was closer; you were done for. Your resolve would be over.

“I can’t.” He emphasized. “I can’t stay away. Not from you.” He was distraught. Why didn’t you understand? 

“Charles, please.” Your lip quivered just slightly as your hands fell at your sides, your fingers playing with the fabric of your dress.

“Do you think I want to be like this?” He pushed. “Do you think I want to be thinking about my best friend’s sister 24/7?” He could feel his resolve slipping the longer he stared at you. You were beautiful, one of the easiest people to talk to, and he couldn’t not love you.

It was so quick. One second you both were feet apart, the next his lips were pressed against yours as your hands grabbed onto his biceps pulling him closer to you. The feel of his muscles underneath his suit were prominent against your fingertips as you moaned softly into his mouth.

Both hands enveloped your jawline, sprawling onto your neck in a feverish rush. It was a clash of tongue and teeth, and neither of you wanted to stop.

[remlionheart]

“You came.”

“You called.”

✧˚ · .MDNI 18+✧˚ · .

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ WHEWWWW. I had no idea when I first started writing this just how much it was going to suck me in. Sweet/toxic!Megumi had my brain doing fuckin' wheelies. All characters are aged up. 21+. Fem!reader x Megumi. AU where Megumi was raised by Toji and is navigating adulthood while still carrying around those old parental wounds. Hurt comfort / angst / smut. porn with a plot. praise kink girlies, this is for you. 3.6k words. super proud of this, lemme know whatcha think. luv you <3 ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It’d been 4 months since the last time Megumi had seen you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He’d woken up in what used to be your apartment with the taste of liquor from the night before still lingering on his tongue and unwanted snippets of your latest fight still ringing in his ears. He rolled over to see you curled up on your side, as far away from him as you could possibly get while still sharing the same bed. He ran a hand over his face, regret and nausea churning in his stomach while more flashbacks of the argument that had caused the divide between you smashed through his mind.

His footsteps were heavy as he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned the water up as hot as it would go before stripping out of his boxers. He wanted to sweat out the guilt he felt. Wanted to burn away the insults you’d both thrown at each other. Wanted to focus on anything else besides the way he’d made you cry.

He winced when the water made contact with his skin. It was scalding, fanning across his back with vengeance. But it was vengeance that he felt he deserved.

“Why?” His eyes closed, remembering how hard you were trying to keep yourself together despite the obvious pain that was plaguing your small body. The way your lip had quivered and the way your arms had protectively wrapped around your stomach when you looked up at him. “Why can’t you ever just tell me what’s going on with you?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to.

God, he wanted to. To open up. To tell you all of the fucked-up things that went on in his head. To voice his insecurities so that maybe they’d finally stop repeating on the same never-ending loop that they had been stuck on his whole life. To tell you that he didn’t think he was enough. To tell you that he was scared to lose you. That it was something he thought about nearly every day.

But it wasn’t that easy. He was only capable of doing what he knew, and he had absolutely no fucking idea how to deal with his own vulnerability. Let alone express it in a way that wasn't damaging to both of you.

Being raised by Toji had been like taking a master class in emotional avoidance and Megumi was very much his father’s prodigy.

He knew how to argue. He knew how to deflect. He knew how to win a fight. He knew how to manipulate a conversation so that he never had to say more than he wanted to. And he didn’t just know how to do these things, he excelled at them.

It was why he had always been so reserved. It was why he’d beat up all those kids in middle school just for looking at him. It was why at 21, rather than saying “I’m sorry” to resolve an ongoing issue with his girlfriend, he’d opted for, “Then fucking leave" instead.

He stepped out of the shower with red welts decorating his back and sweat dripping down his face. He wiped the steam away from the mirror to reveal blood-shot eyes as he wrapped a towel around his waist. His midnight hair was unusually straight and flat, pressed loosely against his forehead.

He let out an exhale, trading in his introspection for detachment when he heard the bathroom door open.

You observed him quietly, noting his reddened skin and his apparent discomfort at seeing you.

Your head tilted slightly, looking over his clenched jaw and the way his shoulders never truly relaxed. It hurt to see him and it hurt even worse to not see him, but as he stared back at you through hooded eyes, you realized that you had wasted so much time searching for softness in a place you’d never find it.

Megumi Fushiguro was beautifully broken. An intricate stained-glass mural that had been shattered by undeserving hands. Mesmerizing to look at but much too rigid to touch. And though he shined perfectly in the right lighting, your mangled fingertips were begging you to finally put the pieces down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s nothing...” You shook your head, taking in his sharp edges for what you assumed would be the last time. “You just look like him… that’s all.”

His chest tightened, a rare, visible crack forming in his usual cold demeanor as he stared back at you. He’d been able to avoid everything he didn’t want to deal with in life, everything – until he met you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A pint of whiskey loomed back at him from his nightstand as he ran a hand through his spiked hair, lethargically watching the ceiling fan spin above him.

His vision was hazy, his body tired from training all day. He wanted to sleep. Wanted to close his eyes and drift off for a few hours, but he knew his mind wasn’t going to grant him that mercy.

So, he drank.

Light rain tapped against his window as he held the bottle to his lips, letting a comforting burn travel down his throat while he pulled his phone out from under his pillow.

You had become a ghost in his life after that morning. A memory that he kept buried so far down, he’d almost partially convinced himself that you were actually gone. You were a late-night whisper that he’d ignore. A song on the radio that he’d immediately turn off. A stabbing, fleeting thought he’d learned to block out on his way home from work.

He had given up going to his favorite restaurants and shops in fear that you might be there. He had cut all ties with Nobara since you guys were so close, not wanting to hear anything about you. He had isolated himself to work and his apartment, not allowing himself the chance to accidentally bump into you.

He’d taken so many precautions. Did everything he possibly could to not see you. And yet, he was gradually starting to realize that maybe it’d all been in vain. That even with how much his life had changed, he was still somehow doing the exact same thing he’d done when he was with you.

After all this time, he was still running.

With one last swig, he finished off his pint and grabbed his phone again, not allotting himself enough time to backpedal.

Dialing your number was like muscle memory even with how long it'd been since he'd done it. He wasn't sure what he was going to say if you answered. He definitely wasn't sure what he was going to say tomorrow if you didn't answer. All he knew was that he was finally done avoiding you.

“Megumi…?” your voice was warm, familiar, static against his ear.

“You’re up late.”

There was a pause followed by a reluctant, “Yeah… so are you.”

He mentally kicked himself as an unsure silence settled between the two of you. He had so many things he needed to say but quickly realized that he couldn’t say any of them now that he was here.

His feelings were heavy and important and way too repressed to be spilled out over a late-night phone call. “I know it’s raining, and whatever but…” He cleared his throat. “Are you busy…?”

“Right now?” He couldn’t help but smirk at your snarky, half-hearted laugh. “I mean, it’s 1:30 in the morning. So, no. Not really.”

“Good. Come over.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t just –”

But he already had.

He ended the call, abruptly cutting off your flimsy attempt at protesting him before sending you a text with his address and standing up to dig a black t-shirt out of his closet.

His apartment was damn near spotless aside from some empty whiskey bottles littering his nightstand, but he still made compulsive laps back and forth from his bedroom to his kitchen as he threw them away and cracked a couple of windows open to let some fresh air in. It was an odd feeling, knowing that you were going to be standing in the one place that didn’t remind him of you.

He checked his phone while heading into the bathroom. You hadn't said anything, but he knew you well enough to know that you were probably only minutes away by now.

He ran contemplative fingers through his hair, making sure each spike was pointed and curled up to his satisfaction. He hated to admit it, but your words had been haunting his reflection since the morning they left your mouth. He had become painfully aware of how much his eyes, his mannerisms, his facial structure all resembled the man he didn't want to become.

His past may have already been accounted for but as he heard the knock at his front door, he finally began to see something different in the mirror that once taunted him. He watched his stare soften and his shoulders loosen. He noted how much tension his body had let go of at just the thought of you. He was about to let his guard down in the biggest way possible and instead of having a visceral reaction, he felt ready.

With one last glance at himself, he let out a decisive breath and headed down the hall. The future was in his hands and even if he did have his father's features, he knew his grasp was much steadier.

You were in an oversized grey hoodie with your hair thrown into a loose side-bun, your shorts just barely visible and your skin damp from the rain.

Neither one of you said anything, both too busy studying the person in front of you to bother with words. Your eyes trailed over him with warranted skepticism, an internal battle between logic and emotion arising the longer you looked at him.

He could see it; he could feel it - the way you wanted to trust him but couldn't.

"You came." he finally said, his voice gentler than you remembered it being.

You shrugged, almost embarrassed by your own honesty.

"You called."

The two of you exchanged the same somber smile before he nodded for you to follow him.

The smell of his cologne mixed with spring air swirled around you as you walked into his room. His walls were covered in art - framed line work, oil paintings, black and grey portraits. Everything was strategically placed and organized. His bed made neatly with white sheets and a black duvet. It was all very him.

He leaned against the wall in front of you as you took a seat on the edge of his mattress.

“How’ve you been?”

It should've been an easy question and under different circumstances, it probably would've been.

But it was late and you were on his bed and he looked beautiful and you wished he didn't and the weight of the situation was suddenly hitting you all at once.

“I've been alright.” You lied, repositioning yourself. "Just busy with classes and stuff. What about you...?"

He watched the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shorts. The way you shifted your weight as you dangled one leg off of the bed and held the other against your chest.

“Quit.”

You paused, your gaze reluctantly returning to his. “Quit what?”

“Being nervous.” He pushed himself away from the wall and sat down next to you, heeding his own advice. “I just have some stuff I need to say, that's all."

You gave him a slow nod, letting go of the loose piece of thread.

His legs were spread slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs and his chin in his hands as he looked over at you. "You were right."

He had officially gained your attention with that one simple admission.

"I do need to open up more, it's just -" He took a breath, determination flickering through his eyes. "It's just fucking hard, you know? But that's not an excuse. I'm sorry. Truly. I'm sorry for everything I did to you while we were together. I should've said it the last time I saw you. I should've said it months before that. I should've just said it at least a hundred times. But I didn't, so I'm saying it now." His hand was warm as he carefully reached for yours. "I shouldn't have shut you out like I did. You're... the one person I never wanted to push away... I love you."

It felt as though all of the oxygen had been stripped from the room, your heart forgetting how to beat while you looked back at him in awe. Your thoughts were everywhere. The war of logic versus emotion still violently raging on.

His fingers laced into yours and you let them. His grasp felt safe and secure. His eyes were full of a sense of patience and vulnerability that you didn't think you'd ever seen before.

"Don't let him do this to you again." Nobara had warned you on your drive over here. "He might care about you. Hell, he might even really love you, but he doesn't know how and you can't keep making that your problem over and over again. It's not fair."

"Look..." Your breathing was uneven, your voice giving away your internal struggle no matter how hard you tried to conceal it. "I forgive you, but we... can't. I mean, we can't just keep doing this over and over. It's... not fair." It had held so much more conviction when it came from your best friend, but it was the best you could manage.

His hand disappeared from yours, wandering up to your cheek to catch tears that you didn't even realize had fallen. "Okay..." he conceded.

His tone was despondent, but his touch was soft. Light fingertips glided along your jawline, his face only centimeters apart from yours. "Then we won't."

"We won't." You repeated back to him, trying desperately to ignore the way his exhale fanned felicitously across your lips.

"Because..." You swallowed hard, watching his gaze drift carefully across your face. "We shouldn't."

He shook his head in agreement. "Absolutely shouldn't." He whispered, his hand trailing up to the back of your neck.

"And..." Emotion was putting up the fight of its life, your pupils widening as you stared back at him. "I deserve better."

"So much better." he echoed, leaning in closer, his mouth just barely grazing yours. "You deserve the fucking world."

Your body was betraying every bit of your sentiment, your breath hitching in your throat while his fingers tangled into your hair. "Megumi... you can't..."

"I'm not." his voice was like honey, his lips still ghosting yours. "All you have to do is pull away." His other hand began to slide delicately up your thigh, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. "Pull away and I'll walk you back to your car. We'll act like none of this ever happened."

"Megumi, please." It was a whimper. A pathetic plea that held no real merit. You weren't sure if you were begging for him to touch you or not touch you.

"I won't call you again. Won't see you again." His nails began to dig into the tenderness your inner thigh, his eyes still locked fiercely with yours. "I'll leave you alone for good this time... That's what you want, right?"

Wetness seeped between your legs as he kept on toying with the opening of your shorts. The warmth of his hand so infuriatingly close to where you wanted it and where it shouldn't be. Your already weak resolve was crumbling.

"Tell me to stop."

His forehead pressed against yours, opposite hand still holding your neck in place. "Tell me." He tried again, but all of your words had been stolen by the feeling of his palm roaming up towards your center.

With only a thin layer of fabric separating his fingers from you, he slowly began to spread you apart. If he hadn't been able to see your desperation before, he could certainly feel it now.

He watched every last bit of composure you had vanish as he started to draw soft, heavenly circles around your clit. Drowning in the little yelps and whines that you were trying so hard to bite back.

"Tell me to fucking stop."

There was suddenly no logic left in your brain. No one in control. No way to fight the way he was making you feel. You were a needy, pining mess and your body was practically groveling for him.

You finally let your lips catch his, shamelessly moaning against him while his grip tightened in your hair. "Don't -" You let out between heady breaths. "Don't stop. Please don't ever stop."

You were lost somewhere between his feral ocean eyes and the way his tongue swirled around yours.

He pulled the fabric to the side, plunging two unexpected fingers inside of you, smirking at the surprised squeal it'd gained him.

"Oh, that's my girl." He groaned, watching your eyes double in size.

Your walls were swallowing him, clenching around him shamelessly while more uncontrollable noises filled the room.

His thumb brushed against your clit, rubbing back and forth with precision as his fingers continued to slam into you. The three of them working together in perfect synchronicity. "There you go, that’s it.”

It had been so long. You knew it wouldn't take much, but you still felt pathetic when you realized you were already there. "Megumi- 'm -"

It almost caught both of you off guard how little it took. Your eyes snapped shut, your bottom lip lodged between your teeth as you soaked him. Your hips were thrusting, your pussy unapologetically dripping all over his hand while you mewled and writhed against him.

"Poor thing. Has it really been that long?"

It was somehow sweet, the way he mocked you.

His movements became more urgent, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to your feet so that he could help you out of your clothes. Your hoodie went first, your nipples hardening as you stood in front of him.

"So fucking pretty." He praised, still sitting on the edge of the bed. His hands were warm against your waist, tugging off your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, admiring the shiny slick glistening off of your cunt.

He took a moment to look you over, quietly memorizing every inch before his own pants were tossed aside.

Your legs straddled him as he guided you on top of him, his hands placed firmly on your hips. You drew in a shallow breath, watching him rub his tip against you, wetting himself with your cum before lining his cock up with your entrance.

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, basking in that familiar, heavenly stretch he always provided you with.

“Fuuuck.”

You weren’t sure which one of you had said it, too drunk off of the way he filled you to care.

His hands were still guiding you. Uppp and dowwwnnn, not quite letting you take the full thing just yet but still giving you plenty to keep you satisfied.

You watched his reaction to the way you rode him, smiled when you noticed his eyes starting to roll back. You were grinding against him, drawing out the prettiest sounds from him with your hands clasped behind his neck.

“You’re s’fucking…” he grunted, his words suddenly harder to get out. “tight… Jesus Christ, baby. You really didn’t fuck anyone else for 4 months, did you?”

It wasn’t like you had been trying to hide it, but it was still irritating that your body sold you out before you even had the chance to have that conversation with him.

You shook your head sheepishly, a faint warmth decorating your cheeks. “Didn’t -” he was pulling you down further this time, purposefully going deeper as he watched you struggle to form a proper setence. “Didn’t - want… t- to…”

“Didn’t want anyone else inside of you, huh?” His tone was breathy, condescending almost as he continued to maneuver you to his liking. “Didn’t want anyone else to fill up this tight fucking cunt besides me, is that it baby?”

You shook your head again, this time a bit more feverishly while he continued to force your weight down onto him. Your ass now smacking against his thighs with each pump into you.

“I -” you moaned, unable to hold it together the further down you went. “I just want you. O - only you.”

He kissed you, his tongue gently parting your lips as he slowly eased you down onto his length. “I love you.” He whispered.

You tried to say it back but it was lost entirely by the way he thrusted upward without warning and slammed every last blissful inch of himself into you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open at the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix. You were a dizzy, pouty, leaky mess, looking at him with stars in your eyes as he smirked back at you. "You’re okay, baby. You can take it.”

He had you tilted at just the right angle, lined up beautifully with your g-spot. You were taking in all you could, hips hungrily rocking back and forth against him.

"You're doing so good. Just like that."

You were practically delirious, already teetering on the verge of climax when his thumb found your clit again, creating more featherlight circles and more delicious, hopeless yelps from you.

"Megumi," his name practically echoed across the room, your walls starting to smother him. "I - fuck, baby ‘m -" You tried to bury your face into his shoulder, but he wouldn't let you. His free hand was quickly under your chin, forcing your attention back on him.

"Look at me." his voice was low but thoughtful, his fingers still working relentlessly against you. "Let me fucking see it."

It was enough to break you. To have you suddenly spasming around him as you soaked him. He didn’t stop though no matter how much you squirmed against him. No matter how incredibly loud your cries became. He continued to stretch you, bullying himself into you while still teasing your clit until you were both absolutely shaking.

His lips crashed into yours, hand tangled back into your hair when you felt him start to twitch inside you, filling you up as he groaned against your mouth.

“I love you.” You whispered this time, earning an exhausted smile from him.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, admiring the mess he’d made out of you before kissing you again, lavishly this time as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

It was all so natural, so right. As if no time had passed at all between you two. And maybe you were biased because of where you were currently sitting, but his once rough edges looked pretty smooth from this angle.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[mrpenguinpants]

Look, but don't touch. [ Harbinger Edition ]

— You're the only one who's allowed to touch him. Likewise, he's the only one that's allowed to touch you.

— Childe, Pantalone, Scaramouche, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

Love Language Series | Touch [ Here ] | Actions | Time | Words | Gifts

This is written before the Sumeru quest. Harbingers are their own warning.

This was a fever dream, incredibly self-indulgent, don't talk to me about this ok. Honestly don't even wanna tag people in this (´。＿。｀)

Tartaglia

Childe is friendly but he always keeps himself at arm's distance from anyone who isn't his family. The kind of guy that acts like he loves everyone but he truly doesn't like anyone. Always polite but never kind. He won't be outwardly hostile if one of the cicin mages decides she wants to try her luck and cuddle up to him, he sort of admires her bravery, but the hardened stare and indifferent response are awkward enough for anyone to bail halfway.

So what a surprise to everyone when it's Childe himself that pulls you into him. It's not a friendly hug either, he quite literally drags you into his embrace as soon as he sees you, locks his arms around your waist, and spins you around. Before he catches himself and gently settles you down and pretends as if he didn't boldly announce to everyone that you're special.

He is a harbinger at the end of the day so any intimate relationships he has need to be hidden lest he puts you in danger. That said, he doesn't do a very good job. He gets agitated and fidgety if he can't hold you, longing gazes in your direction even if someone else is speaking to him about something important. Whether it's shooing specks of dust off your shoulder, a tap on the arm, or the brief brush of your fingers against his whenever he hands something to you. He always finds some way to touch you.

It's always the worst and best time to speak with Childe if you happen to be there. On the upside, Childe is more likely to give his approval to whatever his subordinates ask just so they go away and leave you both alone. On the downside, because physical touch somehow makes Childe drowsy and almost drunk, he's useless.

It wasn't always like this. During your first months as something more than friends, not quite lovers, he kept you at an arm's distance just like everyone else. Only the occasional arm over your shoulder or a hand on the small of your back, just enough to show you that you meant something to him. But over time, those touches began to linger until the dynamic shifted and he began to rely on your touches to keep him sated. On particularly stressful days, he'll pull you aside into his office with a rushed excuse to just hold you in his lap. He's recharging, don't make tease him.

But he's not a selfish lover. If you need comfort or just want to be held, he'll gladly throw his plans out the window just to spend time with you. What's wrong? Did someone upset you? Want me to take care of them? He'll offer anything to make you feel better while you're cuddled up to him and it makes his heart flutter when you say you just want to stay beside him. He has a bad habit of resting his entire weight on top of you if you're both ever lying down. All that muscle is heavy but sometimes it's comfortable until his elbow accidentally digs into your side.

Childe can be polite if someone else wants to touch him but he's baring his teeth at anyone that has the audacity to place their hands on you. If someone bumps into you? He's fine, accidents happen. Someone moves you to the side? Whatever he won't throw a fit over that. He believes in the below-the-shoulder, above-the-waist, hands not included, rule. If anyone touches you, it's the only time when Childe will throw his reputation out the window.

Scaramouche likes to compare him to a dog and he'll gladly growl and bark if that's what it takes for people to get the hint and leave you alone. He'll slide his arms around your waist, tilt your chin up, and without any concern about the scene that this will cause, kisses you deeply. All the while sending the nastiest glare to the person that touched you. Look, don't touch. You're his.

Childe likes to believe that he has self-restraint. He's a soldier first and foremost so he has discipline beaten into his bones. But right now he's close to snapping the pen in his hands and hurling it into that bastard's forehead. He can feel Ekaterina's concerned gaze on him, shifting on her feet nervously, as she struggles to push through her explanation of his assignment quickly. Unfortunately, it's all white noise to Childe as all of his attention is on the cicin mage whose being a bit too friendly for his liking.

"Lord Tartaglia?"

Of course, you don't blink twice at it. He's seen how that loud electro pirate dotes on you and is overly physically affectionate herself. Maybe he should also fight her as well after he's done dealing with this cicin mage.

"Childe?" Ekaterina tries one last time, using a more familiar name to see if that would catch her superior's attention but alas, he was too busy glaring daggers into her college. Ekaterina raises a hand to lightly tap on her superior's shoulder to get his attention but just as her fingertips brush against the fabric of his uniform, Childe's death glare is directed at her. She flinches away from the otherwise easy-going Childe, her mask doing little to hide her startled expression.

"Sorry, sorry, not meant for you," Childe blinks away the hate from his ocean eyes, coming to his senses as he runs a hand through his hair, "What were you saying?"

"There is no need to apologize, Lord Tartaglia, I overstepped," Ekaterina, bless her heart, waves off the sudden aggression but takes a step back. Before she can continue, she overhears you saying goodbye to the mage and your footsteps coming closer. A small surprised noise escapes your chest as Childe pulls you into his arms immediately. If she didn't know Childe, she could almost say his expression was a bit cute with how pouty he was being. Although the look in his eyes says otherwise now that she was just on the receiving end. This seems to be a common occurrence because you just giggle and hug him back just as tightly.

"Please don't harm her. She was just being nice," you mumble into his chest.

"I'll think about it," he says, his eyes never leaving the mage.

Pantalone

On the one hand, the banker always carries this prestige that makes most people stay away in awe. No one wants to get on the wrong side of the man who basically funds the country of Snezhnaya. On the other hand, Pantalone has an ethereal beauty that compels people to come closer and touch. To see if the porcelain skin is real, feel if he's muscular or lean under the heavy fabric, or sneak a peek at what colour the banker's eyes are. It makes you kind of giddy knowing that this man belongs to you. That you know the answer to all these speculations.

You aren't sure when it started happening but at some point, he always ends up sort of mindlessly touching him. Placing a hand on his arm or knee, running your fingers through his hair, or gently rubbing away the stress from his shoulders. There wasn't an ulterior motive, Pantalone was just too handsome that you can't help but touch him just to make sure he's real. He thought you were overexaggerating a bit but he seemed deeply pleased at your confession since it was coming from you personally. That egotistical bastard.

But he always reciprocated your touch. Offering an arm for you to hold onto, brushing the hair out of your face, or rubbing small circles into your hand. Small gestures of affection would occasionally lead to more. The fact that Pantalone of all people let you be this close was something you secretly prided in yourself. You couldn't help but rub his newfound privilege in front of anyone that got too close that this elegant man was yours to hold. Look all you want but you're the only one that gets to touch.

You weren't aware of Pantalone's level of aversion to touch until he almost caused a scene at a gathering. It was meant more for looks and reputation, the occasional business talk, but overall a lax evening. One of the ladies thought it would be a good gesture to place her hand against Pantalone's arm. A bit flirty but innocent enough that the sheer disdain that swirled in Pantalone's eyes made her flinch away surprised. He struck her hand away, the sound carrying through the now-silent ballroom as everyone turned to the sound. You were surprised as well that Pantalone of all people, the image of control and ever-smiling, lips turned down into a repulsed scowl. Your feet quickly moved over to him, quietly excusing the woman for her careless act, and ushering her away before anything escalated. No one spoke of that night.

Ever since then you've always kept your hands firmly glued to your sides lest you feel his anger. If you happened to brush against his finger you would splutter out apologies and scamper away. If you felt his hand hover near you, you always assumed you were in the way and quickly moved aside for him. Overall, you acted as if it was you that was uncomfortable with touch. With each passing day that you fled from his hand, the crease in Pantalone's frown grew deeper.

It comes to a head one night when you get to see how Pantalone's aversion to touch applies to you as well. Occasionally some wealthy noble will host a gala and as one of the Tsaritsa Harbingers, Pantalone will be required to be present for at least one of them. Given his status, most of the attendees flock over to him which leaves poor you to meander about and find something to do with the time. Despite being his lover, you're not privy to what goes on with his work and frankly, the business talk and parties bore you. At least these places have food.

He sees you conversing with a man he knows is from Liyue, hoping to find more investors and trade partners here in Snezhnaya. He's already spoken to the man and rejected his offer so that's most likely why he's speaking to you, the banker's partner to garner sympathy. Although from the looks of things, you don't seem that impressed either. You notice his stare, perhaps his expression betrays him because your eyes grow concerned before giving a polite bow and turning to walk away and to him. If that was all then perhaps tonight wouldn't have ended so badly.

The man grabs your arm painfully enough for you to whimper and that's all Pantalone needs. He doesn't even try to hide his expression behind a smile, his lips set into a straight line. He grabs the man's arm tightly, the leather of his gloves crinkling from the force, and he nearly breaks the man's arm. How dare this inferior social climber put his filthy hands on you. You have to plead with him to let the man go, desperately trying to pry his grip away as the businessman begs the Harbinger on his knees that he didn't know.

Pantalone-

Pantalone is pissed.

You've never seen him this angry before. The lady all those nights ago doesn't even compare close to the anger radiating off him. His fingers flex still as he leads you away into an isolated hallway. You're not even sure if he knows where he's going, completely blindsided by rage. So you quickly step closer and throw your arms around him, stopping him in his tracks as you bury your face into the soft fabric of his suit.

"It's okay. I'm okay," you whisper softly into his back. You're not afraid, he won't get angry, not with you. Never with you. But it still pains you to see him this way. You feel more than you hear his deep sigh before slowly turning around and taking you into his arms. "Thank you. I didn't mean to start anything, you just looked displeased and I got worried. Oh, I'm sorry-"

You quickly move to shuffle out of Pantalone's hold but you can barely get two steps back before his touch grows firm and you're trapped. Despite how strong his hold is, he gently tilts your chin up so you can look into his pretty eyes. He really does have a nice eye colour you think in the back of your mind.

"You've been avoiding me. Care to enlighten me as to why that's the case? Did someone feed your mind with little lies?" Pantalone sounds coy but you can hear the undertone of worry. As if he's done something wrong which you quickly shake your head to.

"W-Well, that incident with the lady from a few weeks ago, the one in the red and black dress, you looked really angry when she touched you so..." you trailed off as your eyes look at anywhere that isn't the man in front of you, nervously twisting the cuff of your sleeve. When you actually hear it back it does sound a bit ridiculous to believe that but you just didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Or make him act a certain way just because you liked physical touch or to uphold appearances.

"And you thought you were comparable to people like that? That I would allow special treatment just because you were mine? That I would reciprocate to anyone but you?"

You fumble a bit at how honest his words are, searching for some way to justify yourself but at the end of the day, you'll knock your head against the wall for how stupid your logic is. So you stand on your tip toes and reach hesitantly up towards his face. Pantalone's face reminds neutral but he slowly leans into his touch, his muscles finally relaxing just by your touch.

Scaramouche

How the hell he tolerates you is anyone's guess. How the hell you tolerate him is Celestia's guess. He has the worst attitude, is quick to anger, flaunts his authority wherever he goes, and is overall a terrible person to be around. Yet every time he looks over his shoulder, you're always one step away from kicking at his heels. Which you have accidentally done before and somehow survived so he must like you a smidge. You tell him it's because it's out of spite that you're still here and spite is a powerful feeling. He of all people should know.

Scaramouche despises anyone being within his personal space, which is already a pretty big range, so the idea of someone touching him is repulsive to him. If he somehow was in danger and someone touched him in order to save his life, he would probably throw a fit and shock them. Their only reward is that he doesn't kill them. It's not like he has to worry too much, no one really wants to be in his presence longer than they have to and any admirers are quickly turned off within the first couple of seconds. Which makes it all the more baffling that you still hang around him and test just how far you can poke his limits.

The first time you touched him was by accident. Someone had bumped into you causing you to fall into Scaramouche. Luckily for you, you managed to put your hands out first and brace yourself against the wall but you had successfully caged the Balladeer between your arms. If you weren't currently fearing for your life you might have laughed at the horrified expression on the Harbinger's face. The only reason you survived that day was that Tartaglia chose that exact moment to waltz in and frankly, he was a far bigger headache than you were.

He's not sure how you managed to worm your warm into his cold non-existent heart but at some point, he got used to your presence in his life. A few words to take care of himself, extra paperwork being filled, or shooing away other soldiers so he could have space. All of these acts of kindness were met with half-baked insults and suspicious looks. Every time he asked you why the hell you were acting like he was some helpless doll you always answered the same, you just felt like it and he looked like he kinda needed it. Which was so baffling to him that you managed to walk away with your head intact.

It started off with small things. Like you're both feral cats that are trying to co-exist in the same alleyway. You always announce your presence, give him enough time to leave, and your touch is barely there. You never do anything close to intimate, never hold his hand or hold his face, and he never reciprocates ever. Although it speaks volumes when he doesn't push you away ever. You're always nearby, sitting close, and you both exist contently.

But just like a feral cat, with enough time and love, even they will begin to grow comfortable and domesticated. The look on his subordinate's face was hilarious when little old you waltzed over to the sixth harbinger, plopped down into his personal space, and literally sprawled yourself over his lap to see what he was looking at. Just to one-up the absurdness, Scaramouche didn't seem bothered in the slightest, only calling you an idiot for not being able to read the document that was right in his hands.

Although there are some downsides to being so close to Scaramouche. He's possessive with the power the enforce his pride. You have to constantly scold him that he can't go frying anyone that comes within two feet of you. It's hardly efficient and it's annoying having to scream just to know what time it is.

The you from years ago would have balked at how casual you were speaking with the infamous Balladeer.

"All I'm saying is you sound like a possessive maniac," you huff, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the sitting man. You doubt he's even paying attention to you because if he isn't throwing spite around then he's filtering you out of his mind. Scaramouche barely acknowledges your words, still fiddling around with the Electro Archon's gnosis. It gives off faint sparks of electro every time he rolls it over his fingers but he doesn't give any signs of pain. Maybe because he's an electro-user? Either way, he's obviously not listening to you. You let out a loud sigh before shrugging and turning on your heel to walk back into the camp. Suddenly, his hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist and he's yanking you down. The you from years ago would have fainted seeing you sprawled over your superior's lap. As your vision tilts to the sky you can't help but think that for such a small body, he sure has a lot of strength. He wears a bored expression, his other hand is cradling his head while his elbow is on his knee, before a nasty smirk makes its way over his face.

"Yeah? So what?" Scaramouch says, his hand stopping to firmly hold the gnosis, though now one of his hands is now settled on your hip. You blink. Huh, you...weren't exactly expecting the ever-prideful Balladeer to blatantly admit that.

"Well, the "what" is that it makes it incredibly inconvenient to talk to anyone. Everyone avoids me like the plague because their scared you're doing to kick down their door and attack them," you pout, grumpily adjusting your head to lay on his knee, "Also you need to eat more. You make a horrible headrest."

"That's fine. You won't need anyone else," he says dismissively.

You open your mouth to say something but the look in his eyes makes you falter. He's serious. A mixture of a past memory, the present moment of you both together, and a far-off dream all dance in his eyes. It's a look you've never seen before on Scaramouche's face despite how long you've worked under him and you can't help but be mesmerized by it. It's likely the first and last time you'll ever see him be honest. But it's quickly over as his eyes morph into snarky glee, his lips pulling into a mean grin.

"You look stupid."

Il Dottore

People are downright terrified to even be in the same room as the infamous doctor. There's never a safe moment and anyone could be the next test subject depending on his mood. It doesn't matter who it is, even his own segments, if someone touches him that means they've just volunteered to be his next experiment. It's suffocating when Dottore is out and not locked in his lab because everyone need's to be hyperaware of where the doctor is located in the room. So to say that Dottore tolerates you is a massive understatement.

He actually quite likes to parade you around, almost like you're his newest addition to his collection. Touch isn't a problem for him if he's the one initiating it given how often he's dragging you around like you're some pet. He's not gentle in the slightest, nearly pulling your arm out in his crazed rush to show you his newest creation. You would joke and say that in moments like these, he's the one that acts like the pet. Too excited to show its owner its newest achievements. But you have a sliver of sanity in your mind so you keep your mouth shut.

Every moment with Dottore is a warped sense of time. You've been with the Doctor for a long time, before he became a Harbinger, and you don't know how your relationship progressed to this stage. You're walking on a tightrope of old colleges that are too intertwined with history to be separated or co-dependent individuals that need death to finally leave each other. So when he touches you softly, affectionally, you stumble and fall off your rope. The mad doctor laughing from above, arms still outstretched from where he's pushed you.

Half of it is madness, and half of it is out of genuine love. Although, to Dottore, madness and love are the same things. His acts of affection are spontaneous and equally as fleeting. One second he's rattling off medical terms and theories, pauses in his rant just to give you a deep kiss no matter who's around you to witness the act, and proceeds as if nothing happens. That's not to say you don't enjoy it when he decides to reward you, you just wished it wasn't in front of so many people. You suspect he does it on purpose.

There's no softness or quiet time aside from the very very few and far between moments Dottore decides to indulge you. He's a busy man, his mind only built for progress, and he has better things to do than to play pretend. But for you, the one who forcibly carved space into his heart, he can make arrangements. Only for a short while. Some days he may hold you as if you'll shatter if he squeezes any harder, other days he'll push your hair away from your eyes quietly, and one day he kisses you as if you're something more.

Unlike Dottore, you don't have an intimidating reputation. People can touch you if they want to. It makes you a bit happy when Childe will pat you on the back or ruffle your hair cheekily. He's also one of the few who can get away with it as well since Dottore can't physically harm him for touching you since he's a fellow Harbinger. Besides, people speak with their eyes more. Since that doesn't qualify as anyone touching you, Dottore won't do anything. So they stare.

They stare at how the Harbinger holds you in a special place. You aren't remarkable, you're the same as the rest of them. Yet you're untouchable and invincible from the man who can change their entire lives. Mistakes occur frequently when Dottore is in the room, the slip of a finger because everyone is too focused on staying out of the Doctor's way. You get to stand beside someone like that.

It's been a hard day. A very hard day. You're absolutely exhausted and ready to curl up into a ball as soon as you get to your room. You aren't even sure what exactly happened. One second you were doing your job and the next your head was on the ground with a pulsing pain on your right cheek. It's not unusual for patients to lash out but under those circumstances, they don't have anything to do with you intimately. You know what people think about your relationship with Dottore. What people who only glimpse into the relationship you have with him think. Usually, they stay silent, only judging you with their eyes but always silent. That is until nearly 10 minutes ago.

"You're late."

You barely react when you hear his voice. Of course, it's him. God, what bad timing. He's the last person you want to see right now, especially in this state. You only give him a nod and mumbled out apologies, stumbling over your feet like a newborn lamb when his hand latches onto your wrist to drag you off again. You think you might have his fingerprints as bruises now. Another thing people can mistakenly think about your relationship. You only know you're crying when you hear the splatter of your tears against the tiled floors and Dottore's footsteps come to a halt. His grip on you has gotten tighter.

You're startled out of your wallowing when warm hands cup your face, brushing your tears away. His gloves are off. When did he take them off? Dottore simply looks at you as you silently cry. You're too tired to apologize, too tired to break down in sobs. Your arms hang uselessly at your sides but you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"Give me their name."

He whispers it softly. You think back at the girl that struck you. You think she's new, she has to be. You know that if you say her name, you won't see her tomorrow. But you're too tired right now. So with no hesitation, you volunteer her to become the next test subject.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Part 1! | Spotify

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[blueywrites]

someday I'll get it

eddie munson x fem!reader eddie comforts you when the lingering memory of your ex brings shame with soaked sheets.

3.1k

cw: 18+. toxic ex, feelings of self-doubt, referenced verbal abuse, hurt/comfort, smut, squirting, first time piv with new partner, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

this is for my fellow infps & all the girlies who fall fast and hard. a bit of a departure from the other naughty nights entries - not as filthy, quite a bit more emotional. I really liked writing it! check out the original ask here.

enjoy xx

Two months after you and David broke up, you downloaded Hinge. Your best friend helped you make your profile, and after some careful crafting over brunch mimosas to soften the flaws you saw in your photos and loosen your lips to make you clever in your bio, you were happy with the facsimile of yourself you’d presented to the dating public. The nerves only crept in during the Uber ride back to your apartment. What if no one liked you? What if what David said— that you’d never find someone that cared about you like he did— turned out to be right? You knew, deep down, that David’s idea of ‘care’ was not what you wanted. But as the weeks went by, your hope began to dwindle; your heart shriveled a little more each time a potential connection faltered and died. And though you kept reminding yourself how bad things were with him, how small he made you feel and how little he truly gave you, you couldn’t help the fragment inside you that hissed in a raspy twang:

Maybe I’m all you’re good enough for. Maybe my love is all you really deserve, and without me, you’ll just end up alone.

And then you found Eddie. 

His was the first conversation that lasted longer than a handful of back-and-forth messages, aside from that one rushed first ‘date’ that turned out just to be an attempt to get some dick’s dick wet. Eddie was chatty, maybe a bit excessively so, but you’d take that over the dry single-sentence replies most guys seemed capable of. It was refreshing not to be the one sending double- and triple-texts for once. And he didn’t do it in an anxious way, either, or one that made you feel you weren’t answering quickly enough. It seemed more that he just wanted to talk to you about whatever popped into his head, and that— along with his pretty brown eyes and smile, his lobe piercings and hand tattoos, and that one blurred photo of him playing guitar on some cramped bar stage, looking all sweaty and alive— piqued your interest in a major way.

Eventually, he took you on a first date, which was followed quickly by a second. And after a full month or so of officially seeing one another, now, following an afternoon spent together, you’re in your bed with him— laid out along your sheets, his weight having dipped the mattress beside you enough times that it’s just starting to feel familiar. 

Looking up at Eddie above you, you’re hit again by how sexy he is, sexier than his Hinge profile would’ve suggested, even though that initial photo made your finger pause in the first place. In it, his hair was tied up at the nape of his neck; it’s loose now, hanging around his pale face in loose tangles ‘cause you’d run your fingers through it while he kissed you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and it is again, except now there’s the pink flush of arousal across his cheeks and a sheen of sweat gleaming off the bulb of his soft nose, visible in the dim light from your lamp. That first time you saw him, Eddie's fingers were wrapped around a tattoo gun, frozen mid-stroke as he carefully etched ink into skin. Now, they’re quite in motion— just as deft and strong, but instead of using them to crawl the needle across the expanse of someone’s back, he’s plunging them into your swollen pussy, winding you up tighter and tighter ‘til you’re writhing on your own sheets.

He’s been at it for a little while now, coaxing your pleasure out with those thrusting fingers and the rough pad of his thumb swiping over your clit. You moan, letting your eyes slip closed as your orgasm starts to rush up, ready to let that wave wash over you before you happily return the favor. But when Eddie presses the heel of his palm firmly into your lower stomach, flicking his thumb faster against your clit as he fingers you, your mounting pleasure twists, thrumming into something more intense. 

Oh, fuck. 

The feeling is ecstasy but beneath it, there’s also panic. Because you know— and dread— what comes next. 

You gasp, choking on the words of warning stuck in your throat, your hand snapping to grip his wrist. You mean to pull it off but you don’t, just clutch him tight in a way he must take as encouragement because he starts to talk you through it. “That’s it, sweetheart, soak my fuckin’ hand—”

It’s inevitable now, so you stop trying to fight it. Like a flipped switch, you release the resistance, leaning into the feeling, which triples in size the moment you do. You seize up, crying out as you cum around Eddie’s fingers— eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open, the gush of fluid against your inner thighs a secondary sensation to the gut-wrenching orgasm wracking your body. When it subsides, your body feels wrung out in the best way, sunken into the mattress, languid and boneless and like you’re so light you might float away if Eddie wasn’t pressing kisses into your neck like praise.

The peace has to break though. It always does. The second you shift and feel the sodden sheets below you, that familiar shame triggers, quick on the heels of a cruel twang bouncing around your skull. 

You draw your legs up, inadvertently kneeing Eddie in the belly. When he pulls back to look at you, you’re curling into yourself, staring up at him so mournfully his heart must twist ‘cause you can see it written on his face.

He searches your face for a moment. Then Eddie’s eyes widen and his face blanches; you see the concern give way to horror. His adam’s apple bobs on a thick swallow. “A-Are you okay?” Eddie croaks, hovering awkwardly now, seemingly stuck between wanting to reach for you and give you space. “Did I hurt you? Did you not want—?”

He looks sick, but you’re quick to shake your head, feeling even sadder now that you’d made him worry. “No, m’sorry,” you say in a small voice. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I didn’t mean to.” You take a breath that hitches in your chest. “I-I made a mess…”

Instantly, Eddie looks relieved. He even huffs a little disbelieving chuckle. "So? You think I care about a little mess?" he asks, squinting as he tips his head at you, aiming for levity. But his attempt to make light of things can't break through to you— not after all the times you've been here before, cowering in your own cooling puddle as David beat you down with his caustic words, leaving you with bruises on the inside of your ribs. 

When your expression crumples further, any amusement slides off Eddie's face, leaving him utterly somber. Quietly, he says your name. "Are you alright?"

Your mouth works soundlessly for a moment before you find your voice. It feels jagged, like it’s been broken apart and splintered back together. “My ex… he used to get really mad when that happened. Said it was gross, that it was my fault now he’d have to wash the sheets.” An ache rises up your throat, and you avert your eyes. “He’d make me do it and change the bed before I could go to sleep.”

A severe wrinkle forms between Eddie’s brows— confusion, indignation, maybe both. “Wait, but— couldn’t he feel it coming? It feels different inside when a girl’s gonna squirt. Why would he keep doing it if he didn’t want you to?” He’s plain, as direct as he always is, and in the face of such a bald question, you have nothing to reply with but the barest shrug of shoulders weighed heavy under a burden you haven’t yet been able to shed.

When some seconds pass in silence, Eddie realizes you aren’t going to elaborate. He softens. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth, sex is supposed to be messy. And I really wanted to make you feel good. I’m glad I did.”

You can’t see them, but you can feel his fingertips brush against your ankle. When you nudge into the touch, he places a tentative hand on your foot, letting his thumb press into the center just below your toes. He raises his eyebrows, looking something like a puppy dog. “D’you wanna take a break? Can I get you some water?”

You shake your head, then open your hands to him— not quite able to extend your arms out for a hug, feeling too brittle and pathetic to make your wanting so obvious. You find with relief that Eddie is perceptive enough to know what the gesture means. Carefully, he leans over you and plants his palms beside your upper arms, sliding them under to fold you in. When he goes to lower himself in a slant on top of you, you let your knees fall open in a silent invitation instead. You’re very happy you did when, after some mutual shifting and shimmying to make yourselves comfortable, Eddie’s weight slots against you— your collarbone to his chest, his lap held in the cradle of your thighs, your arms wound underneath his to clutch his bare back as he presses you into a comforting embrace.

You focus on the feeling of Eddie on top of you— his belly expanding and contracting against your navel, his heat seeping into you head-to-toe, his herb-musk scent clinging to his shoulder when you tuck your face there, slowly letting him ease you. For a while, you breathe into him like that, letting yourself sink into the intimacy of all his bare skin against yours until the physical sensations swallow up that hissing voice, and it finally falls silent. With a heavy sigh of relief, the last of the lingering tension from the memory of David leaves you. 

Finding you now relaxed, Eddie hums against your hair, a rumble that sounds like satisfaction with himself that he was able to bring you comfort. He untucks one of his hands from beneath you then, shifts his arm along your sheets so his forearm frames your head. You pull your face from his hot skin, letting your head thump back against the mattress as the final surrender to your recovery. 

Eddie’s thumb strokes along your hairline as he looks down at you, his hips cradled by yours, his flagging but still present erection pressed intimately against the crease of your thigh behind his boxers. Quickly, you realize how much easier it was to be embraced like this when he wasn’t looking at you. Under his gaze, you feel exposed, almost too much to bear-- too vulnerable, your soft underbelly revealed for him to sink his teeth into. But he doesn't. Maybe, you think, Eddie never would. Where David had fangs, Eddie's teeth are blunted; capable of damage if he were to try hard enough, but more suited to playful nips, which is all he ever seems to care for anyways, at least for how little long you've known him. He's still new, and you're still learning how it feels for him to see you and decide what he'll do with what he finds. 

It's thrilling and downright scary to let him, but you let him. You blink up at Eddie, deliberately resisting the urge to master your expression and hide from him. Your heart thuds and squirms as he observes you for a long moment, still stroking your forehead with his thumb like you're a skittish rabbit, kept only from fleeing by a gentle, hypnotizing touch. 

After a long moment, Eddie's features ease. One corner of his lips tugs up into a crooked, dimpled smile. "Pretty girl," he murmurs, and something releases inside you. Your hands skate down the hot plain of his back, skimming slowly over its topography-- the elegant jut of his shoulder blades, the solid strength of his lats, the low, curved dip just before the hill of his covered cheeks. Those you spread your fingers over, gently pulling him in closer to you, and you flutter at the shaky breath he exhales over your lips as his shaft presses tighter between your bodies.

"You want to?" he whispers, his eyes flitting between yours. You know what he’s asking. In the month you’ve been together, you’ve done pretty much everything but gone all the way with him. You weren’t waiting for anything in particular, more just a sense that it would feel right to connect with him that way.

You feel that now.

So you respond with a kiss— firm, decisive, one that Eddie opens his mouth instantly to. His tongue finds yours eagerly, slick muscle against slick muscle, and the wet sounds of you meeting and parting have your arousal stirring up into a flurry of excitement and desire. Your fingertips ease beneath the waistband of his boxers, pushing the fabric down to bare him, and you crane your neck to keep kissing him until eventually you can’t reach any lower. Eddie helps you shimmy them off then, his lips falling still as he concentrates on wiggling his hips and kicking his legs to get them down to his ankles. You feel him kick one final time, followed by the faint shlump of fabric hitting the ground before he’s suddenly propped on his elbows and his hands are cupping your cheeks, tilting your face to kiss you so thoroughly it steals your breath away.

And you think— expect, maybe— that now that you’re about to have sex, the energy between you and Eddie will keep escalating until you’re caught up in a rush: both panting, desperate, fervent in your need for completion. But it doesn’t happen like that. Instead, your kisses slow, turning into lingering, open-mouthed presses, a sensual ebb and flow of lips and tongue and teeth— deep, savoring, as if the pleasure of what you’ll both feel when he joins with you is so certain, there’s no need to hurry it along. You raise your knee to open yourself up, and with a nudge of Eddie’s narrow hips, his shaft nestles into the slick wetness between your puffy lips. You press up to meet him, grinding slowly in time with your kisses until your abundant arousal coats him thoroughly, easing the way for you to reach down and guide his tip to catch at your entrance. And when you lift your legs, joining your ankles at the back of his thighs, you feel Eddie enter you for the first time.

There’s no resistance. It’s just a slip, a glide, and an exquisite stretch as he sinks inside, splitting you with his thickness. Eddie moans low as his cockhead meets the deepest part of you. It’s a gravelly sound, one that rumbles against your breasts when you twine your limbs tighter around him, already covetous of the feeling of him touching every bit of you he possibly can. Your pussy flexes and flutters, testing the welcome intrusion, preening when she elicits an answering twitch from his length before he draws just slightly back and rocks in again. You sigh softly, smiling as your eyes slip closed when you feel Eddie’s curved lips press to your temple. 

The rhythm you find together is natural, if rather shallow— shallow because your hands are clutching at his back and his arms are wrapped tight around you, keeping you close as can be. He can’t pull even halfway out; his hips rock in the barest gap that remains as if neither of you can stand even that much distance. There’s no lack of enthusiasm, though, no lack of passion as he pushes in so tight that the pressure has your swollen clit jolting with a delicious spark on every thrust. The heat between you grows, turning you sticky and damp with sweat down the length of your bodies. The pleasure grows too, quickly for you with all the stimulation until you’re panting against his shoulder. It grows unimpeded until Eddie nestles his face down further toward you, inadvertently feeding you a mouthful of his hair.

You turn your cheek and try to spit it out, but the thick, dry strands stick stubbornly to your lips until you have to enlist his help. "Your hair's everywhere, Eddie,” you murmur, more amused than anything.

"Ah, shit.” You have to hide a smile against his jaw at how put out he sounds. “Sorry." He tries to shake it away from you, craning his neck back but unwilling to stop embracing you.

"S' okay." Gently, you extract your arms from under his, huffing a little chuckle at the tiny whine of protest that rumbles in his throat. He props himself up so you can carefully clear his face: nudging his bangs out of his eyes, then pushing back the bulk of his curls, tucking them tenderly behind his ears. 

"There," you say, sweet and warm, your smile growing at the way the hair almost springs right out again. Unable to be contained, a lot like Eddie. 

A lot like the way you feel about him. 

"I love your hair," you tell him suddenly, your heart twisting at the way he lights up in response. Eddie rubs the very tip of his nose against yours, smiling boyish and wide, and emotion wells up inside you-- potent and poignant like the sting of happy tears, sweet like coming home and tender like a bruise all at once. 

And it’s like the second you say it, you can’t stop thinking about what words really want to spring from your lips. But it's too soon, far too soon, so you cup his face, draw your thumb along his cheek, and kiss him instead, keeping yourself occupied so those words will stay inside.

You kiss him until he’s moving steadily within you again; kiss him until you’re squirming beneath him, whining into his mouth. Kiss him as he drives you over the edge of bliss and then follows you, groaning when he throbs and spills inside. You kiss Eddie until the pleasure fades into contentment, until you both are sated, until those kisses gradually slow and gentle and turn to chaste presses of swollen, love-bitten lips.

Your mouths finally part. And when you see the way Eddie’s looking at you— the curl at the corner of his lips, the subtle tilt of his brow, the warmth in his deep brown eyes— you remember what David told you before you made him leave.

You’ll never find someone who cares about you the way I do.

You knew he was wrong then. But now, you know it.

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[patscorner]

Hey, idk if your taking requests rn but could you do an Emily Engstler x chubby reader fic where reader is in her feelings about a personal subject of your choice and they end up arguing over it? Idk just some angst and fluff please?

I don't really like how this turned out, but here you gooo

Butterflies

Summary: When you receive hate, instead of getting the calm, gentle response from your girlfriend, you get an unexpected reaction.

wc: 1,099

Contains: talks of insecurities, two kisses, that's all

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You sigh as you put your car in park. Finally, after a day in hell(at work), you were home. For some reason, everyone and their mom decided to test you today. Ranging from customers cussing you out, to Emily being cranky before you left for work, the day seemed to be giving you a break.

Even though you and your girlfriend had bickered all morning, right now, you wanted nothing more than to be in her arms. But before you do, you decide to open instagram. Bad idea. There were multiple hate comments on your post about how you looked in a bathing suit. You weren't the biggest person in the world, but you also weren't the skinniest. You've never been skinny, and you were often judged for that rather than your cheerful personality. So, like most bigger kids, you were bullied when you were younger, causing you to have low self confidence and self esteem.

Eventually, you grow to love your body, and it only gets better when you start to date Emily. She thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, and she made sure you knew that.

Of course, it wasn't always smooth, and you had your days. Like now.

The post was from a month ago, when Emily surprised you with a trip to Mexico. Normally, they wouldn't affect you, but after the day you had, the words displayed on your screen found cracks in your armor and buried itself there, finding its way under your skin and into your heart.

You sigh heavily, blinking back tears as you get out of the car and locking it behind you. You take a deep breath as you unlock the door to your shared apartment with Emily.

You hear her yelling from the bedroom as you place your keys on the counter. You make your way into the room and see she's on the game with a couple of her teammates. “Hi, baby.” She mumbles, glancing at you before she draws her attention to the screen.

You don't say anything back, just grab your clothes and go to the bathroom to change. This sets alarms off in Emily's head, but unfortunately, the game she's playing has already put her emotions on ten and her patience on zero.

“What the fuck?” You hear her mumble. You roll your eyes, before changing and walking back out into the room. She's not on the game anymore, instead, she's sat on the end of the bed, with her arms crossed. You close your eyes and sigh when you see her, you truly don't have the patience.

“What the fuck is your problem? You came home pissed, and didn't even say hi to me.” She squinted her eyes at you.

You don't say anything, and just sit down next to her, hoping she'd relax at the sight of your need for comfort. She doesn't.

“I'm sorry. I’m not feeling the best, I was on Instagram and there were comments an-” Emily cuts you off with a laugh as she stands up.

“Are you serious? I told you to stay out of the comment sections. You're asking for it at this point.” She scoffs.

The statement takes you by surprise. Your normally gentle girlfriend was standing in front of you, her anger directed at you. “I'm ‘asking for it’?”

Then it clicks for Emily, as her eyes soften and she tries to take her statement back. “That's not what I me-”

Now it's your turn to cut her off. “Bullshit, you meant it. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to look like this, and I didn't ask to be treated like this either.” You stand up, a move towards the door, tears streaming down your face. You stop before you close the door and lock eyes with Emily.

Her eyes are guilty, looking down at her feet. “I'm sleeping on the couch.” You sigh. She looks up like she wants to say something, but closes her mouth instead.

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you too.” You respond before going into the living room.

You stir in your sleep, feeling yourself being lifted from the couch. You open your eyes and look up to see Emily carrying you bridal style back to your room. “Shh, go back to sleep, ma.” She whispers, kissing your head.

You groan as she gently puts you down on your side of the bed. She mimics your actions, laying down next to you, wrapping her arms around you, so you're facing her. Sleep has left you now, and you're both just staring at each other.

“What're you doing?” You whisper. Emily's heart breaks as she takes in your features. Your eyes are red and puffy, and your hair is disheveled from the amount of times you ran your hand through it.

“Couldn't sleep.” She mumbled, pulling you closer. You melt into her arms, finally getting the embrace you needed earlier.

“I'm so sorry, baby. What I said was fucked up. I was still hype from the game, and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.” She places an apologetic kiss on your lips, so light it was almost ghostlike.

“ ‘s okay.” You mutter.

“No it's not. I'll do better, I promise. It'll never happen again.” She said, forcing your eyes on hers. The words you read earlier flash through your mind, and your breathing hitches as you close your eyes, attempting to stop the tears, but it's no use.

She sighs as she watches you break down, and she can't help but feel like she caused some of it. She pulls you closer, her tattooed hand rubbing circles up and down your back.

“They're wrong. You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and I'm not gonna stop telling you, not until you believe it. And even then, I'll continue to tell you. Because it's true. Those motherfuckers don't know you. Not like I do, and they never will. “

She pauses to wipe your tears, kissing your cheeks gently. “I love you so much, and no matter what they say, I always will. D’you understand?” her eyes locked with yours, waiting for your response.

You sniffle, nodding slowly. Emily shakes her head. “Words, baby.” She whispers.

You feel your cheeks heat up, and by the way Emily tries to bite back a smirk, you know she did it on purpose. “I understand. I love you too.”

With that she pulls you into a passionate kiss, lips interlocking as she takes your insecurities away, replacing them with butterflies.

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taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

[jinnie-ret]

9th member whos family is extremely unsupportive of their career choices, skz do their best to cheer them up after a loud argument that the boys overhear. their family is rude and downright mean to their 9th member and they cant let them be put down by their family so they remind her that theyre her family. love your writing.

family is complicated

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: emotionally abusive parents

word count: 1.6k

summary: after your troubling phone call is overhead by all of the boys, they comfort you and reassure you that they are your true family

Thank you sm for your request!! I hope you enjoy this one too :)))

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"Y/Nnie! Lunch is ready," Chan called the maknae into the kitchen, plating up some food for her. Although they lived in different dorms now, Y/N staying with 3RACHA and Hyunjin, and Lee Know and Felix staying with VocalRACHA, they decided to do a whole group meal today.

Everyone was sat waiting at the table, before a sluggish looking Y/N padded into the kitchen, wiping sleep away from her eyes.

"Aw bless her, she looks exhausted," Felix whispered and frowned to Han, who nodded along.

"It's her mum and dad again, don't mention them yeah?" Han quietly replied, offering a light smile to Y/N when she plonked herself down into the chair opposite him.

"Mmm, what's for breakfast?" Y/N blinked her eyes rapidly, where redness could be seen around the lids. After an endless streams of texts from her parents last night, she cried herself to sleep, the boys doing their best to comfort her before she allowed herself to break down.

"It's lunch time, silly," Hyunjin fondly giggled as he ruffled her hair and placed a cup of tea down in front of her. "Here, peppermint tea, I know it's your favourite."

"Thanks Jinnie," Y/N tilted her head upwards and he smiled and scrunched his nose at her in response.

"It's nice having lunch together like this, I feel like we haven't done it in a while," Jeongin commented, twirling some ramen with his chopsticks.

"We had fried chicken at the company like two days ago," Changbin pointed out and laughed.

"Yeah but it's different being sat around the table with a home cooked meal," Lee Know nodded and agreed with Jeongin.

"It's different now, like sometimes I get a facetime and just have Seungmin staring at me whilst he eats like," Han starts laughing, and mimics the face the puppy like member of the group would pull.

"What do you think about eating on your own, Seungmin? Now that we've split into different dorms," Chan asked curiously from one end of the table.

"I love it so much," Seungmin genuinely and joyfully says, causing everyone to break out into laugh, Hyunjin's iconic cackle sticking out amongst them all. Even Y/N, in a tired quiet mood, broke out into a smile.

But that happy mood, was torn in half by the ringtone that blared from Y/N's phone. She picked up her phone and sighed when she saw the contact name, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Are you ok, Y/N?" Minho queried gently from next to her, making his tone more caring and comforting like he always did when he spoke to her. She was similar to Felix in that she had a sensitive heart.

"I'm f-fine, umm, I've got to take this," Y/N scoots out of her chair from the dining table, and walks round the corner from the kitchen into the hallway that followed down to their individual bedrooms.

"I'm worried about her," Jeongin spoke up, a frown tugging on his features, the corners of his mouth pulled downwards.

"I swear if that's her parents-" Changbin gritted his teeth.

"When will you come home and leave that useless job behind you?"

"Mum, why do you always do this to me? I'm doing something that I truly love and you always dismiss it!"

"I don't care about what you enjoy doing. You're not thinking about your family. How could you leave us like this? It's disrespectful. You've betrayed us!"

"I send money to you every month! I support you! I do everything I can, mum!"

"Your everything isn't good enough, Y/N. You're an embarrassment to the whole family."

"Mum don't say that!"

Then there was the sound of the phone call being hung up on, and Y/N quickly dashed past the opening of the hallway to rush into the bathroom.

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, girl. I thought you may have changed your mind after my wise words last night, but I can see you're still as stupid and ignorant as ever."

"Y/N-" Han stood up to stop her and grab her attention, but she had already slammed the door.

"Have they always been that bad?" Seungmin questioned, appalled at the phone call they all overheard.

In her tired state, Y/N must have put the call on loudspeaker, and not realised that the boys had heard it too.

"I knew they were bad but... hearing her own mother yell at her like that... I thought the texts were bad," Chan sighed and shook his head. His hands rested on the table and he cracked his knuckles together.

"Why, what happened with the texts? Hannie said just to act normal but..." Felix brought up what he had said earlier.

"Yesterday she got some threatening texts from her dad, telling her he'd fly over to Seoul and personally drag her back home, and if she didn't 'comply and obey him' he'd make sure that she'd 'pay for it'," Hyunjin sighed, quoting the exact words he read from Y/N's phone himself.

"That bastard threatened violence?!" Lee Know exclaimed in disbelief, his fist clenched tightly around the edge of the table.

"We should check on her," Jeongin got up as he shook his head, walking round to the bathroom and knocking on the door. "Y/Nnie? Do you want to talk about what happened, love? We all heard," he added onto the end.

"No, it's fine, Innie. I'm ok, please don't come in," Y/N's voice cracked. "I just want some time to myself," she whimpered from the cold bathroom floor, rocking back and forth as she tried to process the words her own mother threw at her once more. Her mind was frantically pulling her in all sorts of different directions, saying 'what if' a thousand times.

"Sweetheart, please talk to us, we're worried about you," Felix's deep voice came from the other side of the door.

"I'm fine," Y/N sniffled, shakily standing up as her head pounded from all of the stress.

"You're not, we can hear it in your voice, Y/Nnie," Lee Know said firmly, a hint of frustration in his voice but only because he cared about her so much.

"Please open the door, Y/N," Jeongin tried again, hand resting against the door.

"She's not going to, mate," Bang Chan sighed, slumping down into the sofa, stretching out his neck and body. "She said she wants to be alone."

But then, the lock to the bathroom door clicked, revealing an exhausted looking Y/N who had tear streams down her face, as well as red eyes and a red nose.

"I don't want to talk about it," Y/N could barely look up at the three members that had been stood outside of the bathroom waiting for her.

"That's fine, just come sit with us, yeah?" Felix grabbed her hand gently.

"Don't shut us out, please," Lee Know ducked his head down to look into her eyes, and the girl nodded, still looking down at her feet. He rested his hand on her lower back as they encouraged her to head through to the lounge.

"Come here," Hyunjin opened his arms immediately as soon as she entered the room and just like that she was glued to his side.

"Y/N, I know you won't want to talk about it, but let us talk to you, ok?" Changbin started, "The way you have been treated by your parents, is by all means, not ok."

"And we want you to know, because we heard what your mum said, you are enough for us," Seungmin added on.

Their kind words caused her to let out a sob, and she heard coos and hushes around her of 'oh, Y/N!'.

"Darling, please don't get upset," Han crouched down in front of Y/N and wiped her tears away, and Hyunjin's arms tightened around her.

"I-it's just, it's-" Y/N couldn't get her words out before another sob ripped from her throat.

"Y/Nnie, breathe, it's ok love, take your time," Chan gently spoke up, causing her to listen to his words and actively take some deep breaths.

"We won't let you feel down ever again from the things they had said or done to you," Lee Know promised.

"We're your family, Y/Nnie," Jeongin cracked a small smile, eyes glistening with tears of his own.

"I wish you had been my family from the start. I feel like I've wasted so much of my life already," Y/N cried out, her hands digging into her legs.

"Oh, if we could have been a group from the start I'm sure we would have. Just think this, you've got us now. I know it's easier said then done, but don't worry about the past. Let's just think about our future, ok?" Changbin said from next to her on the sofa, gently pulling her hands away from her lap to prevent her from causing more harm.

"But what if-" Y/N stuttered and stopped herself from continuing once more.

"There are no what ifs with us, Y/N," Hyunjin rubbed circles into her shoulders.

"Yeah, you're stuck with us now," Han joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked.

For a few more moments you revelled in the comfort of being with your members, your family before going on with the rest of your day. And if anyone asked Chan if he blocked your mum and dad's phone numbers, he'd say no, of course. If they were really worried, they had other ways of getting in contact. It wouldn't hurt anyone. Just make your lives easier as a family.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky

[thebestofoneshots]

tastes | Marauders x Reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, oral (male receiving), P in V, lots of praise (especially from Remus), Sirius gets all the love he deserves, consent is sexy, lusty!boys, сreаm piе, they literally can't take their eyes off you.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of taste. Reader has a very strong gag reflex, so the boys have never asked you to blow them, and you love them for it. But today, you want to taste them.

tastes is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand-alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

18+ readers only (smut under the cut)

Cum Feel The Noize

You had always had pretty strong gag reflex, just brushing your tongue while you brushed your teeth made you want to puкe sometimes, it wasn’t ideal, but it was what you were born with so you settled. 

The boys knew, you’d been friends with them long before you started dating, and you had been pretty vocal about it, really, you were just so comfortable with them around that you didn’t mind talking about those things.

“What about sucking a dicк?” Sirius asked, half teasingly, half because he’d been genuinenly curious. He got elbowed by James after asking, but you just laughed.   

“Nah, it’s fine,” you told James dismissively “In truth, I’ve never done that.” 

“Never, ever? Not even the tip?” Asked James impressed, now curious as well. You shook your head as an answer.

“Not even when you dated that stupid Harland boy?” asked Remus. They all hated Harland because they all liked you, even then, a few months before you started all dating each other.

“Harland?” you asked in disbelief “Hell no! He asked a couple of times but, I just couldn’t do it,” you admitted “I really didn’t want to puкe all over his dicк.” 

“Understandable,” Remus nodded. 

“Yeah, you’d think. That’s why we broke up tho.” 

“What? Shut up!” James said, almost standing straigther.

“No, it’s true!” you said with a nod “He said there were plenty other girls in the market, and that most of them would die just to get the chance to suck him off.”

“And what did you tell him?” Sirius asked. 

“To fuck off,” you said with a laugh “didn’t even like him that much anyway,” you said with a sight, “But he’s so petty, he asked me to go see him in one of the abandoned classrooms to give me back some of my stuff, but he had just gotten a girl to blow him there. So when I arrived–” 

James gasped, he had his mouth open wide, completely shocked.

“–Poor girl, she was so embarrassed ‘cause she thought we were still dating. Which in hindsight, probably makes is worse. Anyway, he tried to go after me and jinxed him.” 

“We thought you stopped dating because he moved away.” 

“Nope, he moved away because the girl told all her friends about it and gave him the worst reputation.” 

Fast forward to now, you had been dating them for almost a year, and they had, never once, asked you to suck them off, not even by accident, which only made you love them even more, making you realize they truly listened, the difference abysmal between them and Harland, who’d asked hundreds of times, and your boys, who actually cared about you and your limits. And since they also had each other to have fun with it, neither of them missed out on getting blowjobs all that often either. Benefits of being in a poly relationship. 

But the boys were always so caring, and so giving, both in and outside of the bedroom, that you really wanted to give back to them. In fact, seeing the way James sucked Remus once, made you want to test it yourself, mouth watering at the thought. You had done your research too, asked your friends about their techniques and paid a lot more attention when they were doing each other, making mental notes of the things they clearly liked and the things they didn’t. For the first time in your life, you actually wanted to try. 

So, on Sirius’ birthday, you thought it’d be your chance. The boy had asked Peter for the room and he happily left the three of them to do their thing while going to bunk with his own girlfriend. Remus had been the one to pick you up at your room with the invisibility cloak that day. 

“You ready luv?” he asked tenderly when you got out of your room, quickly enveloping you in the cloak as he stood behind you.

“Very ready,” you said with a little smirk, which had Remus raise one of his eyebrows. Did you plan something? That’s definitely your “I’ve planned something” tone.

He dipped his head in the crook of your neck and gave it a short whiff “You’re wearing Sirius’ favourite perfume,” he mouthed, you could feel his lips brushing against your skin, already sending warmth to your core. “What else?” 

 You smiled mischievously “Nothing else,” you admitted. 

A rush of blood went straight to his cock when he heard you say that so confidently, and he finally peaked from his spot in your neck, looking through the thin white shirt you were wearing, he could see your nipple perking underneath the fabric, marking it ever so slightly. “Fuck, dove you’re such a tease.” 

You shrugged, turning to press a kiss to his cheek, realizing how blown out his pupils were already, “You know how much Sirius loves it.” 

He slid his hands under your skirt, only feeling the outside of your tight, all the way to your waist, as if trying to feel if you really had nothing underneath at the bottom. “Yeah, he’s not the only one,” he grunted, digging his digits a little, just below your pelvis. You pressed yourself to him a little more, realizing he was already getting turned on, even from such a short interaction, which only fueled you even more, turning completely around you wrapped your fingers on his neck and brought him down for a kiss. He complied, pushing you against a nearby wall as he kissed back, hands still extended above his head to keep the cloak covering the two of you. When you finally separated, you were both panting, his lips were already pink from the stimulation, and he brought one of his hands down to accommodate his pants, they were already making him uncomfortable. 

“Come on handsome,” you told him with a smile, butting your bottom lip for a mere second and pulling at his bicep ever so slightly, “Why don’t we continue the party inside?” 

When you arrived at their room, Sirius was on his bed, sketching something in his notebook while James was setting up the record player. After all the initial plan had been to just chill and listen to music together. But you all knew that wasn’t going to be the end of the story from the moment the suggestion left Remus’ lips. 

You went straight to Siri, pressing a chaste kiss over his mouth as you laid down next to him “Happy birthday Puppy!” 

“That’s like the 10th time today you say that,” James teased. 

“It’s probably just an excuse to snog him,” added Remus. 

You shrugged and leaned in again, pressing another short kiss to Sirius’ soft lips “Happy birthday,” you whispered again. 

Sirius just smiled, he loved when you showered him with attention, he had always had a knack for being the center of it, but when he was the center of yours, it made him soar, “You can snog me without wishing me happy birthday kitten, in fact, you can snog me whenever the hell you want.” 

You laughed at the suggestive little smirk he made and searched with your hand to grab his. Sirius would definitely go crazy with how much attention you were all about to give him. He leaned in a little closer, dipping his head in the crook of your neck as he turned  “You smell nice,” he whispered. 

James almost jumped to the bed, placing the top half of his body over the bottom half of yours, his head looking at you from above your belly, “Don’t act like we aren’t in the room,” he said with a pout, placing a hand over your bare leg. 

“We weren’t,” Sirius said, still from the crook of your neck “We were just giving you a show,” he added in the end, you could feel the smirk in his tone. Remus laughed, still standing in the middle of the room as he took off his sweater, passing it over his head, slowly, Remus was the most patient of the three; unless you were close to the moon.

You took a deep breath, feeling James’ forearm press against your belly as you did, he leaned down over them and noticed. “You’re not wearing a bra today,” he said as he raised just the edge of your shirt to get a peak. 

“And it’s not the only thing I didn’t put on,” you said teasingly. 

Sirius turned to you shocked “Shut up.” 

“Why don’t you see it for yourself,” you said with a smirk. Sirius didn’t think twice as he dipped his hand under your skirt. Unlike Remus, he went straight to your slick, feeling how wet you already were. 

“Bloody hell kitten, you’re soaked,” he said, now his own eyes blown out in lust “Wait, why are you so…?” he turned to Remus, who just shrugged in response, a cheeky smile playing on his face. He narrowed his eyes at him and turned back to you, “fine then… my turn,” he said, lightly pushing James off you as he grabbed you by the waist and placed you on top of him, you were now straddling him, each leg to the side of his. The friction of his pants in your core, only making you all the more turned on, you ground yourself against him, which had him moan, if ever so lightly. James had placed one hand over your tight as he moved to kiss Sirius’ neck. Today was his day, after all. 

You smiled, slowly grinding yourself against the boy one more time before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. Remus was sitting on the bed beside yours, lousily looking at the three of you as he patted himself. After a couple more kisses, you reached your hand under Sirius’ shirt, and both you and James pulled Sirius on a sitting position so you could completely remove it, gently passing it over his head. James didn’t leave him lay back down though, he pressed himself behind him to gain better access to his neck instead. 

You smiled, still kissing Sirius as you fumbled your fingers over the button of his trousers. “Someone’s thirsty,” he teased. 

“You wouldn’t know how much,” you whispered enigmatically. There it is again, Remus thought, she’s onto something. With the help of James, you managed to remove Sirius’ pants too. Playing with the hem of his trousers as you continued to grind onto his leg. Now it was your turn, moving in tandem with James, the two of you managed to lay Sirius back, over James’ chest, who rubbed soft circles on his arms as he watched you grind onto his boyfriend. Sirius was malleable, in fact, at this point, he would let you do whatever the hell you wanted with him, he wasn’t sure he was even still on earth. 

Finally, you pulled his boxers down, pulling back just a little when his thick cock sprang out, pressing against his stomach from the force of the release. You licked your lips but stood back straight, taking your time to throw the boxers somewhere. Remus smiled, you were being fast tonight, maybe he’ll get his turn faster than– 

He lost his train of thought, you had dropped kisses all over Sirius’ stomach and your face was dangerously close to his cock. It wasn’t unusual that you played and rubbed their cocks with your hands, but you usually kept your head a little further away from them. 

He almost completely lost it when he noticed you playing with Sirius’ tights, pressing kisses against them as you spread them a little with your hands. That was a move he knew all too well, he’d done it several times. Finally, when you leaned down and pressed your lips against Sirius’ cock, it was he who jumped out of James’ grasp, Remus crossing the distance that there was in between the two of you with two long strides. 

“Kitten what are you–” Sirius asked, his throat dry. 

“–what do you think?” you said, motioning to his cock. 

“But your gag reflex sweetheart,” James said, he was peering through Sirius’ shoulders. 

Your heart warmth at the boys’ concern, “I wanna try,” you added. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do it… If you feel pressured into it because it’s my birthday then–” 

“–It’s not that,” you cut him off “I want to try.”  

“Are you very sure luv?” Remus asked, he had leaned down near the bed to level his head with yours. 

You nodded “Positive.” 

“Sirius can be a little desperate sometimes,” James added “We can help you hold him in place so he doesn’t accidentally jerk too hard into your throat, How does that sound?” 

You peered to look at him through your lashes, Sirius thought you’d never looked more stunning “If Sirius is all right with that.” 

The boy in question nodded excitedly, and James leaned a little to the side, pressing one of his legs, while Remus held him from the other side. 

“We’re ready,” Remus said with a short nod. 

You nodded in response, taking a deep breath, and leaned back down pressing little kisses on Sirius’ soft abdomen before placing your hand over his balls. You’d seen James do it, and Sirius seemed to like it when he did. 

Judging by the way he moaned, he also enjoyed it when you did. After kneading them a little more, and rubbing circles over his tight with your other hand, you placed your hand around his cock, pumping it a couple of times before finally leaning down, placing a light kiss over his tip. The sound Sirius emitted was so sinful, you felt your arousal dripping from your cunt. 

James had moved over the bed, one hand still over Sirius’ leg, the other on his cock, he was watching mouth dry as you leaned down on Sirius. He had only dreamed of you doing such a thing, never daring to ask for it. 

You took a deep breath, and went for a long lick, all the way from shaft to the end. Remus smirked, such a tease, he thought. 

Sirius moaned again, head plopping back into the pillows James had placed when he moved to the side.

Remus hummed “Stop teasing him so much sweetheart,” he said as he placed a hand on the side of Sirius’ face, brushing lightly from his temple to his neck all the while looking tenderly at the boy, “He might just combust in flames if you keep it up.” 

You stroked Sirius one more time, brushing your thumb over his tip the way you knew he liked so much and then you leaned down again, this time wrapping your mouth around his tip. You didn’t go down too deep at first, only really staying around the tip, making sure to test how much you could actually fit into your mouth without it getting uncomfortable. 

You started moving your tongue around his tip, nipping and teasing. Another moan escaped from Sirius’ mouth, James didn’t know where to look as he touched himself, either at you or Sirius’ pleasure-driven face. At some point, you felt a slight buckle of Sirius’ hips, or at least an attempt of it, since both James and Remus had managed to restrain him from moving too much. 

“Please,” he begged. You knew exactly what he wanted. When he got all whinny like that, it was because he wanted you to pick up the pace, either by stroking him faster or bobbing your hips up and down his length. You squeezed slightly with your hand since you knew how much he liked it when you clenched your “tight little pussy” around him. And finally, you started to bob your head up and down, slowly, taking in very little of him in your mouth at first. Testing the waters.

Sirius emitted the kind of groan you only heard of him when he was so deep into you, he couldn’t think of anything else. You then felt Remus’ hand, the one he wasn’t using to hold Sirius’s hip, moving under your skirt. Slowly moving up until he reached the tender flesh of the inside of your tight. And then he went further up, tracing your slit with his long finger. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Pads, if you could feel how wet she is at this point… she’s practically dripping.”

Remus knew exactly what he was doing, Sirius was as much into physical pleasure as emotional, much like you were, and Remus was well aware knowing such a thing would set his boyfriend on fire, he wasn’t wrong, you could feel his hips trying to buckle into your mouth again, only to be stopped by the boys’ strong hands.  

Remus did not remove his hand either, he kept playing around your slit, slowly parting with two fingers as you perked your ass just a bit more for easier access, which just had him grin. You moaned when he placed one of his fingers over your clit and started rubbing, Remus had the most confident grip when it came to finger fucking you, and he always delivered. 

You started taking in a bit more of Sirius, forcing yourself a little over what you’d consider your comfort zone. Every moan his noises and Remus’ hands pulled from you, reverberating across his cock and bringing him closer. 

“Sweethea… aaaah, fuck.” Sirius was trying to tell you something, but the way his moans sounded, you knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

Regardless, it was James who took his hand away from his own cock and bought it to caress your back, “Kitten…” he said softly, you eyed him, not stopping the way you moved your mouth around Sirius, which almost got him to lose his train of thought, “Kitten, Sirius is about to come,” he informed. 

You hummed in response, being aware of it already. You knew. Finally, that brought Remus back into the conversation “Wait, luv, does that mean you’re going to…” you hummed again. 

“fuck,” you heard him whisper. She’s gonna swallow, he thought, not being able to keep his eyes off you. 

Sirius was just as impressed, even if he wasn’t thinking much at this point, he had brought his hand down, and he toyed with your hair before settling it just over the back of your neck, he wasn’t pushing though, he was rubbing soft circles with his thumb, even amongst all the madness you’d brought to him, he was still thinking of your comfort. 

You drove your head up and down three more times, and then you felt it, warm and a little salty, spurring into your mouth. And as you had planned you swallowed it all, helping Sirius ride through his orgasm by still bobbing your head a couple of times. 

“It’s ok sweetheart,” you heard James, he still had his hand on your back “He’s done, you can stop.” 

You did, slowly taking your mouth out and letting your head fall over Sirius’ belly, making sure to keep your ass up so Remus wouldn’t stop toying with your pussy, which he wasn’t planning on either way. Sirius looked at you, breath heavy as he wrapped his hand over your cheek, “That was incredible sweets, and for your first time.” 

You pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his stomach, and then turned your eyes back to him “I’d been observing you…” you said. Being stoped by your own moan as Remus drove a finger inside of you “taking notes of what each of my boys likes best.” 

“fuck you’re so tight,” the boy whispered, only James heard, you and Sirius were too wrapped in your own little bubble. 

“Have you now?” he said with a teasing smile, “you might become the best of the three,” he whispered, it earned him a smack from James, who had been attentively watching the way Remus finger fucked you, imagining how it would look like without the skirt. 

“Next time you beg for me to blow you after a game I’ll tell you to go beg elsewhere,” he teased. Which earned a chuckle from you and Sirius. 

“I want to see,” Sirius added, motioning to Remus’ hand under your skirt. 

“That makes two of us,” James said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a sitting position, you whined in response, almost crying at the loss of Remus’ expert fingers. 

“It’s ok baby, we’re just gonna reposition,” James cooed, and he started to unbutton your shirt as Remus got on the bed, taking off his shirt in one swift motion before helping James remove yours. The boys moved in tandem, smoothly as if they knew exactly what the other was about to do next, which perhaps they did, since they knew each other so well. Once the shirt was off, you felt the cold air perk your nipples, giving both boys sitting in front of you their own little show. While that was going on, Remus was the one to unbutton and unzip your skirt, lifting you up towards him as James pulled it off. 

Remus placed you in between his legs, enjoying the feeling of the soft bare skin of your back flushing against his torso. He hadn’t yet removed his pants, but you could feel how hard he was under them, so hard it’s gotta be painful.

But Remus had only two moods, either being patient or being desperate; today he was the first one, so when you rocked your hips back, trying to get a reaction, he just held you down “Steady on sweetheart, let us enjoy you first.” 

And they were going to enjoy you, while Remus spread you wide open, carefully passing your feet over his legs so they would stay in position, James had leaned in to spread soft kisses on your neck. All of you facing Sirius, who was just smiling darkly at the sight. 

Remus was slow at first, passing a hand over your inner tight, massaging the soft skin before getting closer to your slit. Even then, he just massaged around it “Remus!” you whined, which only earned him a chuckle. 

“What is it luv?” he asked, playing dumb. 

“Yeah, what is it?” James asked, unlaching his lips from your neck and turning to you, joining the teasing. 

“Please!” you added, grabbing onto Remus’ hand and placing it on your slit. 

Finally, he complied, tracing his strong fingers over your slit, still impossibly wet. James had already moved on to kiss one of your nipples, nipping and teasing the tender skin. Sucking it into peaks before laying it back with his tongue. One of his hands had been placed in the small of your neck, and the other on your other breast, making sure not to let it skip on the fun. 

“How are you three so goddamned beautiful?” you heard Sirius mumble as he enjoyed the view. 

This time around, after toying with your clit once more, Remus placed two fingers inside instead of one, which had you gasp, but he just smiled devilishly as he thrusted them in and out, eliciting one of his favourite sounds in the world, your moans. While lost in bliss, you felt James’ cock brush against your skin, which made you remember how forgotten you had left him tonight, so you reached out and brushed your hand around it, brushing your thumb over the tip a couple of times, earning a couple of moans from him. 

“Yes, please,” he whispered, and you complied, finally starting to stroke him. James did not stop the kissing as you continued to move your hand up and down his length, only moaning your name a couple of times, and squeezing your breast a little tighter when he was close. 

You were just as close, you realized Remus had been not only finger fucking you, but preparing you as well, slowly stretching you out with the help of his two fingers. Remus was big, and without stretching, he just didn’t fit in. And if he was stretching you out, then it meant he knew he’d get your wet little cunt tonight and it only fueled him more and turned you on even more in return. You buckled your hips against his fingers a couple of times, and his pace became faster. Just like your stroking around James’ cock. 

James came first, thrusting into your hand as his cum dripped all over it, finally unlatching himself from your nipples and breathing heavily as he stared dumbly at you and Remus, lips parted and slightly red, just the sight of it made you buckle your hips against Remus’ hand once again. He was about to take his wand to clean your hand with it, when Remus used his free hand to bring it over to his mouth and ran his tongue from your wrist bone to your fingers, licking most James’ cum along, which James swore made his cock twitch again. 

And then Remus turned to you, not slowing down the pace on your pussy, but looking as calm as unbothered as if he were a teacher asking a student for an answer “Do you want to taste him too, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, and he pushed your hand towards your mouth, carefully placing the soft section between your thumb and your wrist right over your lips, it was the only section still covered with James’ cum, and you slowly brought your lips around it, sucking carefully on your hand and letting your lips slowly go back to their place as Remus’ pulled your hand out. James was a little saltier than Sirius, but also relatively sweet.

“fuck… i’m gonna end up getting hard again,” you heard James’ groan, which had Sirius chuckle as he pulled the boy towards him. 

“Come Prongs, enjoy the show with me,” he said with a smile. James leaned in and gave Sirius a short kiss before leaning on his shoulder. 

“All right sweetheart, your turn,” Remus said as he brought his index finger from the other hand to your clit, you leaned your head back on his shoulder, buckling your hips against him with more conviction now that you weren’t distracted by anything else. 

His pace quickened and you moaned and whined under his expert hands “Hmmm… please Rem, I’m about to…” 

“It’s ok baby, be good and come all over my fingers,” he cooed, and you did, harshly pulling your head back as you allowed him to finger fuck you to oblivion. “There we go, such a good girl for me, isn’t that right?” he praised, as he brought his hand, still wet with your slick over to his mouth and sucked sinfully over the two fingers that were inside of you, moaning as he tasted your juices. He then turned back to you again. “Now, are you gonna allow me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours tonight or do you feel too tired already?” 

You wanted nothing more than for Remus to stretch you up just right, so you nodded, head still a little foggy from the high, “Please Remus,” you added for good measure, moving your hips back just to feel him press against you one more time. 

Finally, you moved to the side, allowing the boy to take both his pants and underwear off before he laid down on the bed, Remus knew it was easier for you to be the one to ride him, at least at first –and when he was the first one– since that way you had a little more control over how big he was, and he was always more than happy to let you do it, in fact, he quite enjoyed the way your breast bounced as you bobbed up and down his length. And he knew the boys liked it just as much, so he strategically laid in a way so that they would get a good view of you. 

You slowly straddled him, placing both knees on each side of his hip before rubbing yourself against his cock a couple of times, causing him to moan this time. You were still so fucking wet.

Eventually, you lifted yourself up and lined him with your entrance. He placed both of his hands around your hips, to help hold you up as you slowly pushed yourself down, moaning as you went as deep as you could. Remus had responded to your tightness with a grunt, truth be told he’d been dreaming of it from the moment he went to pick you up. 

You started bobbing up and down his length, slow at first, but picking up that pace as your walls got used to his size. Remus had his hands on your waist, helping you move easily as he started to thrust up into you, reaching the right spot. “fuck… yes,” you said breathily as he continued thrusting.

“So fucking tight,” Remus breathed as he helped you ride him, completely focused on you, on your parted lips, your soft huffs and moans; you were absolutely entrancing in the way you moved your hips on him, “You’re taking me in so well sweetheart…” 

You moaned, and clenched around him, which just caused him to buckle against you even harder. That got you to whimper and you brought both of your palms to lay over his shoulders, to hold yourself better as you continued to rock your hips on the boy, “Baby… if you keep that up I’m not gonna last,” he added, and just to tease him, you clenched again, eliciting a moan from the boy so sinful, it fueled you to keep moving, faster this time around.

“So beautiful, aren’t they Prongs?” you heard Sirius say, almost not quite registering it with the way Remus’ cock trusted into you right after. The other boy hummed in response, not able to take his eyes off the way you were moving. 

When Remus was close, he switched the two of you around, laying you flat on the bed as he brought one of his hands over to your clit, “Be a good girl and come for me one last time sweetheart,” he said as he continued to thrust. Holding back his own orgasm, he wanted to hear you moan his name as he came. 

And after a few more flicks and circles of his thumb, with his pace quickening, you came, “hmm Remus…” you whispered as he continued to thrust inside of you, the way your walls clenched around tipping the boy over the edge, he had hold it back so long, he practically grunted into your ear and spiled inside of you.

Eventually, he pulled back, staring at your pussy as he panted, you knew what he wanted and so you squeezed, allowing the thick white liquid to spill from your inside, dripping from your entrance to the back of your ass. Remus really liked to see the evidence of fucking you, somehow satisfying his most primal desires, or so he’d told you once. 

Remus brought one of his hands back to your cunt, you shivered with the contact since you were still slightly overstimulated, but he didn’t budge, using his middle and index to gather some of your combined juices, he angled his head cockily, “Are you gonna taste me tonight as well sweetheart?” he asked. 

You smiled wickedly, using your elbows to prop yourself up and leaning in towards the boy’s hand, not bothering to answer as you opened your mouth and wrapped it around both of his fingers, making sure to let your lips pull as you slowly hollowed your mouth and pulled yourself back, licking your lips as you completely separated from the boy. Remus had not been expecting that, his cocky demeanour faltering as his mouth dried. Remus was the sweetest of the three. 

A/N: this is the third piece of smut I’ve written so far, and omg this definitely got out of hand. Regardless… I do feel like I’m getting the hang of it. Maybe? A little bit? At least I don’t feel the cringe, anymore. Saying that, I do still stop myself every now and then and wonder “what the hell am I writing?” In a “I’d be burned in the stake for imagining these things” sort of way haha! Either way, I’m having fun, and that’s what matters!

The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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[reverie-starlight]

{beautiful liar- m. atsumu}

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. highly suggestive at the end <3

it’s my birthday month, would you expect anyone other than atsumu to be the main focus?

atsumu thinks you’re beautiful when you lie to him.

the subtle strain of your facial features as you try to keep your expression neutral makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

he can’t help but feel fondness for you, even as you stand before him with the blood still on your hands. even after you’ve hurt him beyond repair, he can’t help but admire your quirks and tells and how hard you fight to keep his trust.

he places his hands on the countertop and lets the coolness of the marble bring him back to reality.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he tries again, silently pleading with you to have mercy on him and finally cut him down from your web of lies.

“baby, do you know where my gym bag is or not?”

he watches as your expression cracks just a bit. you’re trying so hard not to break as you shake your head.

he thinks you’re absolutely stunning when you tilt your head down to hide the smile that finally cuts through.

“angel…” he warns, like he’s trying to keep a child from doing something they shouldn’t be. “look at me, please.”

he can’t help but laugh a little when your eyes meet his again and he sees that you’re tearing up from the effort.

it’s a known fact that you’re not a good liar unless the situation is… dire. you wear your heart on your sleeve, and that’s an admirable quality. atsumu has the same one, and he’s learned to like it on himself a bit more since loving it on you.

but he still grew up a twin, and even if he can’t hide his stronger emotions, he is most definitely a better liar than you.

(something he never lets you forget when he exploits your horrible poker face. like right now.)

“yes, ‘tsum?”

he shakes his head and smiles. “don’t ‘‘tsum’ me. I know ya hid my bag. don’t even try to lie to me, ya literally can’t.”

you finally let out a laugh of your own and he wonders if there are stars in his eyes making you shine this way, or if you’re just like that.

the butterflies in his stomach start fluttering again when you get up from the bar stool and walk to his side of the kitchen island.

you wrap your arms around his neck and he doesn’t think twice before letting his hands settle on your hips.

“I guess I can tell you where your bag is for a small fee.”

he raises an eyebrow. “oh can ya? how generous.”

you blow some air in his eye at his remark. “the fee is a kiss.”

“hmm, I don’t know if you deserve one after lying to me for a full ten minutes. well-“ he stops to correct himself. “attempting to lie to me.”

you gasp, but he knows you’re still being playful. “excuse me? never mind, I take it back, you’re not getting that bag today.”

“sweetheart~” he holds you tighter against him when you start to pull away and starts peppering kisses against your cheek.

“don’t you start sweet talking me, miya. it won’t work.”

he sighs and throws his head back. he’s not truly annoyed- he makes that clear with the easy, lovesick expression on his face- but he at least wants to know why you’re trying so hard to keep him home.

“baby. what’s going on with ya? is everything okay?”

you nod a little and he hates that his words cause you to frown. if his hands weren’t so comfortable on your hips, he’d bring one up to smooth out your forehead. “yeah… I’m sorry I’m making you late, I just miss you.”

his eyes widen. the new season has just started, so he’s been trying to get back into the swing of things. he loves going to practice, and he loves the new beginnings every start of the season brings, really he does.

but he hates the transition period between spending most of his time with you to having to find a healthy balance again.

of course you always reassure him that you understand it takes a minute to adjust, but that doesn’t mean he feels good about the unintentional neglect that can come from it.

he rubs his nose against your cheek. “baby, I’m sorry,” he starts. “ya know I don’t like being away for too long.”

your bottom lip juts out the tiniest bit and he leans in to kiss it. “I know… and I also know it’s selfish to keep you here because I’m feeling lonely… guess I’ve just been a little needier than usual lately.”

he thinks back to how you’ve practically been hanging off of him this whole week. he was a little confused by it, sure, but more so he’s been eating up all the attention and indulging you as much as possible.

taking in a deep breath, he makes a split second decision that will definitely have consequences later- good or bad, he won’t know until they come to pass.

but he knows whatever the outcome, it’ll be more than worth it just because he gets to see you smile now while carrying you to the sofa.

“atsumu! what are you doing?!“

“screw the gym bag, I’m staying here with you today.”

you gasp at his words and a panicked look washes over your face. “wait, no, that’s not what I was getting at-“

he shushes you. “no no, listen. it’s early in the season. we don’t have any games scheduled for a long while, yet and I stayed late last night. one day off won’t hurt, I’ll just go in earlier tomorrow.”

if his younger self could hear him now, he’d probably throw a fit, but he’s older and wiser and his angel needs him, so this is obviously the only logical solution.

your eyes gloss over with adoration, and there’s no room left inside of him for the guilt from skipping a day that he’s been building up for years.

he feels good about his decision to make you a priority. he felt good about it years ago when he asked you out and he gets the feeling he’ll feel good about it twenty years from now, wherever the both of you are by that point.

nothing could ever make him regret making you his top priority. you’ve given him so much, it’s only right that he does the same for you.

“thank you, ‘tsum,” you say after a while of just existing together on the couch.

he nuzzles into your neck and lets the warmth spread through his body at the feel of your torso against his. “‘course, sweetheart. but I’m still curious-“

he lifts himself up just enough that his face is hovering over yours. “where did you hide my gym bag?”

your peaceful expression twists into a smirk. “still not telling~” you sing.

he snorts. “alright, keep your secrets. we both know I have other methods of getting it out of ya. we’ve done this dance too many times, baby.”

you giggle and shake your head fondly. “oh ‘tsum, you couldn’t torture this information out of me. it’s too much fun for me to have something over you.”

his grin is wolfish as he takes in your words. “alright, sure, keep digging yourself into a deeper hole and see how fun it’ll be for ya later.”

“aww, you’re all bark no bi- hey!” you shriek as he playfully bites your nose.

“yeah, yeah, we’ll see if ya still think that when I’m done with ya.”

you don’t put up a fight when he slings you over his shoulder and carries you back to your bedroom.

BONUS:

you take the water bottle he offers you and gulp down half of it in one go.

he takes it from you and sets it off to the side before laying down beside you, equally spent. he feels you looking at him, so he raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

he knows that look- you’re not completely ready to back down yet. just like when you lie, he thinks you look stunning when you refuse to give in.

“I hid it in the laundry room.”

he sits up a bit and looks down at you with narrowed eyes. “oh really?”

“uh huh.”

“and why’s that?”

the look on your face is lit up with sinister mischief, like you know your words will strike a chord inside of him. “needed to make sure it was in a place you don’t go very often.”

it’s obviously a jab with no real malicious intent (he’s very good about doing his laundry), but it has him playfully growling and pinning you beneath him once more.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be today, hm?”

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

ahem. anyway. he is my everything and I would absolutely hide his things to keep him with me longer. inspired by me bc I have a horrible poker face. cannot lie without laughing to save my life.

@rrairey since this is the fic that one WIP came from I thought I’d tag you, hope that’s okay :3

@emmyrosee 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hope you enjoyed!

[tightjeansjavi]

common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

[lunasfics]

Found Family - Under the Blossoms

summary: You’re new to that concept, it’s one thing you have yet to fully adjust to. The concept of people actively choosing to love you as you are, people who care if you disappear without a trace, people who see your flaws and shortcomings and still choose to see the good in you. 

this is sort of a continuation to found family! read here

pairings: Batfam x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 2k

request: "I neeeeeeed more Wayne-Kent daughter stuff. Your first post was truly amazing. Can I request a fic gets really upset about something and she hasn’t been home in a couple days. Everyone is looking for her but she’s hiding somewhere far away, maybe in Japan surrounded by cherry blossoms and a koi pond in the forest. Clark finds her and brings Bruce with him to see if she’s okay. You can change anything that you want but just the premise of the reader missing. Thank you!!! " requested by @ashdoctor

a/n: hi! i would first and foremost like to thank the sender of this request because I have had the worst writers block and this kind pulled me out of it :).also this not not proofread so sorry in advance for any typos,,,, anyway, this is kinda focused a bit on bruce and y/n's relationship cause they're both like. fucked up and complicated lolol but yeah I hope you like it! ALSO! i based the old japanese couple on a haikyuu character kita shinsuke, cause why not i thought it'd be fun

“Shit.” 

“Well I’ve flown through all of Gotham and Metropolis twice, and did a once-over around the country, not a trace. I’m getting really worried.” 

“She has to be somewhere, how long have we been searching?” 

“Going on day 3.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I’ve checked every landmark I’ve taken her to see during our training, I haven’t seen her once.” 

“We’ll keep looking.” 

The comms have been flooded for the past two days with nervous chatter and consistent but pointless updates in regards to your unknown whereabouts. Clark and Connor have been doing the physical searching while Bruce has hacked into any and every surveillance camera he could in hopes of the system picking up your face somewhere, anywhere.

Your siblings have taken over Gotham patrols, Barbara occasionally taking over the online search while Alfred forces Bruce to get some sleep. 

You’ve been living with him for well over six months now, adjustment has gotten easier for you, and you’d gotten more comfortable in going off on your own to explore. Now, Clark never has a problem with this, encouraging you to explore as much as you could, “The world has so much to offer, soon you’ll understand why we care so much for keeping it safe” he’d say. 

Bruce however felt it was reckless to use your powers so casually, you shouldn’t depend on them the way you do, that it's a liability to your civilian life. It’s not something you should be so careless about, “Your safety and well-being is not someone you should take lightly.” 

Naturally, you are too stubborn to see this was purely out of worry, that he actually cares for you. You’re new to that concept, it’s one thing you have yet to fully adjust to. The concept of people actively choosing to love you as you are, people who care if you disappear without a trace, people who see your flaws and shortcomings and still choose to see the good in you. 

Maybe that’s why you reacted the way you did during your last conversation with Bruce. The seething anger that heated your bones, the dense lump that formed in your throat as you spoke. The unpleasant pit in your stomach as you slammed the cave door behind you, the sweaty palms and the inexplicable reflex within you that told you to keep yourself guarded. To not let these people close enough to stab you in the back, to protect yourself and your skills. Do not allow yourself to be held back.  

So now here you are, on some farmland in a tiny town in Japan. You weren’t sure this town has had access to any recent tech for at least the past ten years. It was a refreshing change, it reminded you of all your favorite things about Smallville. The smell of the crops and the way the cherry blossoms bloomed along the outskirts of the fields in the spring. The pink of the petals was soft and peaceful, the wind blowing softly through them released a pleasant floral smell that made you feel at peace. 

Arriving there was an experience, you just flew and flew until you found yourself in a field at the crack of dawn, opening your eyes to an elderly Japanese couple standing over you, concern etched into their aged faces, confusion was evident in the way they spoke to you, but so was kindness. 

Mr and Mrs Kita were kind people, taking you in without question because they knew you were in need. They told you their story, about their grandson and how he goes to school in the city.

And so they invited you in and were delighted to find that you speak Japanese, although their dialect was different from yours, they welcomed you with open arms. You’ve worked in their fields the past two days, finding peace within yourself, and as nice as it was, you missed your family. 

Back in the house, the couple observes you as they do everyday, you pay no mind as you continue to harvest crops. 

“She’s a bit of an odd one, isn't she?”

“I quite like her, honest worker, though she seems as though she carries a heavy burden.” 

“Yes, I noticed that. She's quite adorable, she almost reminds me of our Shinsuke.”

“I do see it Dear, perhaps they’ll meet when he visits for the summer.” 

“I do hope so.”

“I’ve got something.” Bruce stood in his seat, gloved hands clicking away relentlessly as the batcomputer, pulling up a global map of movements that have broken the sound barrier within the past week.  

Clark stood behind him, eyeing the screen that was littered with red lines, the United States being full to the brim given their recent search. There were more streaks around the world leading to the landmarks, all which Clark could recall making. However there was one that stood out to him, a singular streak that abruptly stops in the middle of Hyogo, Japan. 

“What could she possibly be doing in the middle of Japan” 

“I really don’t know Clark but we need to go now. Wait for me outside, I’ll update the others.” 

All that was going through Bruce’s mind was seeing you again, having a rational, calm conversation where he isn’t so wound up from a failed mission and where you don’t feel so backed into a corner. 

Bruce Wayne isn’t very much a man of expressing feelings, granted, over time he has improved immensely, but he is nowhere near perfect and neither are you. You’re two people, a father and his daughter who are trying their best to be better for each other and for those you love. 

Bruce is a man who at times tends to lack patience, there are not many things he isn’t good at, unfortunately being emotionally vulnerable is one of the things he could use improvement on. 

That’s probably why he let you go that night instead of chasing after you, and it’s probably why he stayed silent while Lois was telling him off when he first told her and Clark that you were missing. 

If he’s learned anything in his time as a father, it’s that he’d do better, and he will continue to be a better father today than he was yesterday. 

Regardless, he knew he needed to get his daughter.

For one hour every day, at one o’ clock, you went and sat under the cherry blossoms, inhaling the comforting floral fumes, feeling the defined rays of sunlight peak through the branches of the tree and onto your soft skin. 

You knew the soft breeze by heart now, the way it felt softly dancing through your hair, the cool sensation of it against your hairline as it kissed away the beads of sweat formed by the day of work in the sun. You had decided last night that today you would go home, as peaceful as it was there you missed your family. You missed your dads and brothers and sisters, you missed the civilians you’d help on patrol. You missed helping people, but more than that you missed your family. You missed baking for them and laughing with them, learning about life and society with them by your side every step of the way. You had decided that today at sundown. you would leave everything in order and organized for the Kitas and bid your farewells, of course you would visit soon, they’re  kind people who took care of you when you needed it. 

You immediately knew something was off when you felt a sudden gust of air, uncharacteristic for the climate in this area. You knew for certain something was off when you heard the familiar swoosh of that cape. 

You turned slowly and sure enough, you saw Bruce, walking towards you in long powerful strides, Clark not far behind him. 

His steps are aggressive, almost sloppy, his strides large and powerful, his walk having more purpose than you’d ever seen it. 

You prepared yourself for the lecture, the mental image of his condescending glare as he breaded you for your lack of self preservation, your recklessness, how this could have compromised your identity, how you're stupid, so so stupid. How you don’t think. How you’re not worth it, a lost cause-

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around you before you knew what was happening. The scent of cologne and the faint smell of metal filling your senses, why isn’t he yelling at me? 

“I was so worried. We all were. Please, don’t do that again, we’ll talk it through next time. I’m sorry.” His voice was gentle, not what you were expecting, his voice was kind, so much so that you felt your eyes glaze over, a wet sensation making its way down your cheek. . You were crying. There was that puddle of warmth pooling in your chest, that sense of security and safety. Clark came up behind you and held you tight, the feeling intensified. 

Ah. Now it made sense. His steps weren't aggressive, they were nervous, emotional.

“You really had us scared there, kiddo. Next time, come to Metropolis, or Smallville, or the tower, anywhere with anyone, but talk to us. We’re always going to be here for you because that’s what family is.” 

Tears fell from your eyes, though you didn't understand why, tears were typically for sadness, but you weren’t sad. These were tears of disbelief, of joy, of love. How funny it is that you never, not once thought you could possibly be cared for like this, that you could ever obtain a proper family like the kinds you learned about. You decided then and there that you would be damned if you ever lost them, if you ever left this. 

“I’m sorry I left, I shouldn’t have. I was going to go back today– the people. The people here have been taking care of me, I was going to help them and say goodbye.” 

Clark shook his head, “You don’t need to apologize, it’s okay, Y/n. Why don’t you go say goodbye, and we can have dinner with Ma and Pa. Sound good?” 

You nodded gingerly, feeling like a small child, you never got a childhood, you didn’t get coddled nor did you get spoken to in a loving manner. You were never reassured nor were you truly shown kindness until the night they saved you from that lab. 

The world is a cold and scary place. You’d seen some of humanity's worst, you were created by them, you were intended to be one of them. You’ve found that within the world there’s kindness, there’s love, there’s peace. 

You pulled away from them and made your way through the field and into the house, smiling at Mr and Mrs Kita sitting at the dinner table playing a game of chess, Mrs. Kita stood and smiled at you, as if she already knew. 

“I want to thank you both sincerely for your hospitality, I can’t thank you enough for the kindness you have shown me,” your voice shook but you continued, “I promise to visit again soon, and anything you need, please let me know and I will give it to you.” 

Mr. Kita laughed and shook his head, “You owe us nothing, if anything we owe you, the fields look better than I’ve ever seen them, you’re always welcome here.” 

Mrs. Kita smacked his arm lightly, and smiled and pulled you in for a hug, “That isn’t the only reason, what he means is we will always welcome you here with open arms, Dear, be safe.” 

You hugged them and retreated back to your dads, joining them on their way back to Kansas, where your loving family was already waiting.

Bonus!

“My goodness! Did you see that scary man in the cape outside? How cold he looked.” Mrs. Kita shuddered as she laid next to her husband. 

“Yes, I did, and my, that bulky fellow in the blue? He could do without the leggings.” 

“I think they do him quite a service… from behind at least.”

“My goodness Yumie, have some class Dear.” He shook his head.

She laughed, “Well, you don’t have it like you used to, old man. I’d like something to look at every so often, why don't you go buy yourself some leggings?” 

He scoffed, “Not happening, Woman. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. They best not keep Y/n from visiting or I’ll fly to the states and get her myself.” 

The room erupted into giggles and laughter, it was peaceful in the small farm in Hyogo that night.

Taglist! Went ahead and just reused the one from the first chapter! If you'd like to be removed, send an ask to let me know!

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag @biadoll21 @blublock404