#I stared at bruise so long It doesn't look right anymore

[luxheroica]

under your tree (2/3)

Part 2/3 - our Ekko, Jinx, and the tree.

Part one

Also on AO3

---

He drags her off that ledge by stealing seconds and finding the right words, and once he’s pretty sure she won't blow the both of them to smithereens he holds out his hand to her. 

Ekko doesn't think it's possible but Jinx takes it. Holds onto it. Her grip is so slight he thinks she might slip away, but as long as he's holding her hand it means she's still here. 

“Come with me?” he asks. 

She doesn't protest. He isn't sure if it's assent or empty resignation. He's not sure if she knows which one either. 

He doesn't know what's happened to her while he was gone. He hasn't seen her since the fight on the bridge, and the only reason he knew she was still alive was the Enforcers were still looking for her. If she were dead it would have been sung from the rooftops. 

Jinx is… broken. Not in the way she usually is, mad and manic and dangerous and wild and the creature who replaced the girl he once knew. She is silent, and her cheeks are streaked with black tear tracks. 

Ekko takes her to the only place that makes sense. The place that has always represented healing and light for the undercity for him. 

He takes her to the tree. 

Nobody stops him–he’s Ekko, and he’s returned from the dead, and nobody wants to question him– but the other Firelights scatter when he walks in with Jinx. 

This raises the first reaction he's had out of her in their long walk. She snorts. “So, this is your little hideout,” she says, looking around. “Aren't you worried I'll come and blow it up?” 

Ekko looks at her sidelong. Maybe before he left and came back. Maybe before he found her like this, with her eyes bruised and her voice faint. “Nah. That's not gonna happen.” 

That earns the ghost of a smile from her. “Just wait– the day’s still young.” 

He leads her further into the Firelights camp, and she takes it all in with a wide and hungry expression. Her gaze roams over the tree, green and live giving and towering over everything. Her fingers intertwine stronger with his as she takes in the camps all around. 

She stops dead when she sees the memorial wall. 

Ekko can see her tracing each of them with her eyes and her lips. Claggor. Milo. Vander. Benzo. Vi. 

Powder. 

He doesn't say a word, and for a long time she stands there in silence. Just staring and taking it all in. For a moment he wonders if he's sent her on another spiral, if he's going to have to play another game of chicken with a bomb meant to end the both of them. 

“You really think I'm dead, huh?” 

Her voice is light and contemplative and whatever reaction he was expecting it wasn't this. He’s wondering if it would be better to apologize or try to explain, when Jinx blows out a breath. 

Her hair runs away from her exhalation. “Not that I would disagree.” 

“Powder’s gone,” he says. “But you're still here, Jinx. And I'd like you to stay.” 

She hasn't taken her hand from his. Jinx’s fingers curl. “Huh.” 

He’s willing to stay there as long as she needs, hand-in-hand and staring at the memorial wall. He meant it when he said that he gave up on her once, and he isn't going to do it anymore. 

“Would you mind?” she asks at last, looking up at the painted faces. “If I added to it?” 

Ekko is surprised, and reluctant to leave her alone just now– but he nods. “Sure,” he says. His fingers slip from hers and she doesn't move. “Let me go get some paints. Be right back.” 

She doesn't even nod. He's not even sure she's listening. But he goes as fast as he can to gather up his paints and brushes and run back. He's not entirely sure she'll be there when he gets back or whether he’ll find a black scar on the ground. 

Jinx is still standing there transfixed by the wall when he dumps the painting supplies at her feet. 

“Thanks,” she says, and she spends some time picking out the paints she wants and then hoisting herself up and picking an empty spot on the wall and starting to sketch. 

Ekko watches until she turns back to him with a roll of her eyes that's the most normal thing he's seen from her all day. “You can stop hovering like a weirdo, you know. I promise not to blow anything up.” 

Thus (mostly) reassured, Ekko leaves her to her painting. A couple of the other Firelights express concern at her presence, but he talks them down. She's not a threat to them, not like this. 

And it's time he started trusting her. 

Jinx is still painting when exhaustion overtakes him and Ekko at last can't keep his eyes open and longer and he falls into a much needed sleep. 

Hours later he starts awake. He's sure that Jinx is going to be gone when he rushes to the memorial wall, but she's there and sleeping under a thin blanket she scavenged from somewhere. Ekko lets out the breath he's been holding. 

There are two new figures on the tree. Both are drawn in bright colors– clashing and complimenting his realistic style with neons that nearly hurt the eye. Both figures are nonetheless unmistakable. 

One is Silco, and for a moment it feels wrong to see his face on a memorial alongside so many of his victims. But, he thinks, Silco was no less a victim of the undercity. He had hope for a bright future once. Who is this paint depiction hurting? 

The other one is a young girl Ekko doesn't recognize. At first he thinks that it is Powder, that Jinx put herself on the tree– but no, it’s someone else entirely. There's brown mixed in with her violently blue hair, and he never saw Powder wear that helmet. 

He traces her lines, wondering who she was. Why Jinx felt compelled to draw her on the wall. 

“Her name was Isha.” 

Ekko turns around to see Jinx waking up and watching him with wide eyes. He steps away from the wall and towards her. 

“Who was she?” he asks gently. 

At first he thinks she won't answer. That she can't. He won't press her if she doesn't want to. 

“A friend,” she says at last. “Just this kid I knew. She followed me around like… some lost puppy. I ran with her for awhile. Begged me for the blue hair like she wanted to be me, like being me was so great. And then she…” 

Jinx clutches at her wrist, her fingernails digging deep into skin. 

“I'm sorry,” Ekko says, approaching gently. 

“Yeah, well, I shoulda known it was coming. Everyone around me dies, remember?” 

He thinks that she will stop him when he takes her hand and gently prises her fingers from where they are digging deep furrows in her wrist. Instead she just stares, eyes wide. 

“I'm not going anywhere.” 

Jinx looks askance at the time travel device resting on his hip. “Yeah, well it helps when you can cheat.” Then her eyes fix on it like she's really seeing it for the first time, and her gaze narrows. “Who was it, this person who taught you there was something worth building?” 

Ekko chuckles. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” She folds her arms over her chest in open challenge. 

“Sit down,” Ekko says, and to his amazement Jinx obeys by flopping down next to him. He joins her in a cross-legged position as he thinks about what how to begin this story. He hadn’t planned on telling her– there's parts of his journey to that other world that are too personal. “She was you– or, well, another you. From an alternate universe.” 

Jinx snorts. “Yeah right.” 

“I told you you wouldn't believe me.” 

“Oh, I believe you about the alternate universe part. That's just the kind of wild shit that happens in this city. But me, helping you? That's rich.” 

Ekko wonders how to explain that other Jinx who never became Jinx, who still went by Powder, who still had most of her family. “Vi was dead, in that other universe. She died young, before everything that happened. And it changed a lot of stuff– Zaun was finally independent and standing on its own, Vander and Silco made up– they were married and running the bar together.” 

Jinx makes a face. “Eugh.” 

Ekko laughs. “Believe me, it was weird.” 

A ghost of a smile flits across Jinx’s lips. “It makes sense though. Vi created the Jinx, so if she died before she could do that…” 

Ekko doesn't bother untangling whatever's going on in her head. “And you were– happy. Two dads who loved you, and you had friends, and we were all gunning for this science contest. And you were helping me– or well, she was helping the other Ekko, actually– to build an energy device.” 

Jinx tilts her head at him, disbelieving but still listening. “Science contest? And I was in it?” 

“Yeah.” Ekko strokes the edge of his time travel device. “Trying to invent something that would help the world. Milo and Claggor had this plant thing that was cleaning up the air, and the other me wanted to build an energy device, but he couldn't do it without your help. She– you– ended up doing like half of the work.” 

He sees the way her eyes trace him hungrily, like she doesn't quite believe him but desperately wants to. 

“Why'd you leave?” 

Ekko turns to her, surprised. 

“I mean it sounds perfect– other than Vi, I guess. I wouldn’t have wanted to come back to this shitty universe, except I guess I would have probably fucked that one up too.” 

“Because you needed me,” Ekko says. When she raises a skeptical eyebrow he realizes what he said, what it implies. He flushes. “I mean, you all– this universe. And that place, it wasn't mine. I was just borrowing it for a while.” 

“Smooth, brain-boy.” Jinx snorts. Then she rocks back so she's staring up at the murals. “What was she like, the other me?” 

“Like you,” Ekko says, and she blows out a breath in disbelief. “I'm serious. Maybe she was more stable– she had people around, people who loved her– but she liked to mess with people, and she liked bright colors and tinkering with things.” 

“Lucky her.” 

“There was a dance, and she wore all this bright makeup, it was neon blue but then there was like this gradient of colors, and… I couldn't help but think, Jinx would totally wear this, if she ever had an occasion she wanted to dress up for.” 

Jinx levers herself up on her arms. Scornfully asks, “Ok, was I like your date to the dance?”

“Uhh…” 

“Seriously Ekko, what the hell? Did you ask me out in another universe, who does that?” 

“You were my girlfriend so it's not like I had much choice!” Ekko defends himself without thinking. Then he cringes. “I mean she was his– the other Ekko’s– girlfriend.” 

Jinx taps her fingers on the metal of the platform, thinking. She looks at him askance and he can’t tell what’s going on in that head of hers, but he feels like she’s sizing him up. “You don’t say.” 

“I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Ekko says. “I didn’t want you to think I came looking for you only because, well– of her. I came looking for you because it’s you. I gave up on you once, Jinx– I’m not going to do it again.” 

She tilts her head at him. Considers him for a long time. “Would you kiss me like her, Ekko?” she asks, almost too quiet to hear, but the words reverberate in his chest. “Like I’m someone who deserves–”

He cuts her off, surging forward to smash his lips to hers. Jinx is surprised, her eyes wide and her whole body tense. Ekko presses, cradling her face like she’s something precious and hard to hold, and she is– his explosive girl, always slipping through his fingers. 

Jinx responds at last, surging forward and nipping his upper lip with her teeth. He responds by opening his mouth so she can tease him with her tongue. 

At last they break apart, although Ekko doesn’t let go of her face. He only stares at her, amazed that out of every possible universe they’re here. 

“You know, I always kind of liked you,” he admits. 

Jinx smirks. “Did you now?” And she pulls him in for another kiss.

[snufflepup]

I'll hold onto you so tightly, to keep you at my side, even if it means I bruise you in the process.

You'll forgive me won't you, my darling ?

[lesbikaiser]

I LOVED ur recent ness post!! ur writing style is just ugh so good.... do u think u could please do ness with a breeding kink ??

hii nonnie, thanks for the ask!! im so happy you liked it <3

im sorry for taking a bit long to write your request, writing's block got the best of me and i dont really like how this one came out, but didn't want to leave you with nothing... i hope you like it though and it's the way you imagined!

ness has a dirty little secret.

he loves to cum in you. more than that, he loves to think how it could lead to him getting you pregnant.

your belly all round with his kid, breasts swollen and sore, full of milk, and you being so dependent on him – can't do anything without his help. oh, he's on cloud nine imagining it.

and he's so sneaky with it, you could never tell his mind is racing with wild thoughts whenever he gets to fuck you raw, neither how he almost cums on the spot when your legs hug his waist to pull him closer, deeper – at least that's what he thinks.

oh, he would be so ashamed if he found out you already know how much of a pervert he's, how his obsession is so, so obvious. the way he can't take his eyes off of the sticky, white cum leaking out of your hole when he pulls out, or how his dick twitches when you close your legs around his torso because you know what it does to him, and of course, how he's delighted by the idea of cockwarming after sex when you suggest it, to make sure all of his cum is stuffed inside you... oh, he's got such a dirty mind.

and he's so happy you're the one to ask for everything – for him to fuck you raw, to cum inside you and to please stay like this a little longer, lexie... he would never dare to ask you such things, not when there's a risk of making you uncomfortable or worst, making you do something you don't want to just to please him... he could never forgive himself if he made you worry about his needs when all he wants is you to feel good.

but you're so perfect... absolutely divine, heaven's sent really! every single time you two have sex, he insists on asking if you want him to pull out – even if he wants to shove his dick deep inside you and make you take all of his seed, he definitely doesn't want to hear you telling him to pull out – and you won't. every time he asks, the answer is always the same: you begging with that sweet voice of yours for him to please cum inside and wan' you to make a mess of me, ness!

oh, of course he will.

his fingers grab your hips so tightly it might leave bruises, short nails sinking on your flesh as he pumps his cock in and out of you, your velvet walls hugging him so well, clenching around his shaft like they're trying to milk him, he's reaching so deep in your core that he may just be touching your cervix, humping you mindlessly.

it's everything alright, everything is going so well, until it's not anymore. until he gets too carried away and can't hold back his thoughts from spilling through his lips.

"s'good, gonna breed you so well..." it comes out in a low tone, muffled by his own moans even, but you manage to make it out. as soon as he realizes what he said, his pace falters a bit, and he's staring at you with wide eyes. "'m sorry, didn't mean–"

"y-yeah? ple– ngh...! please do it, ness!" you whine, hips bucking up to meet his, your legs wrapping impossibly tighter around his waist as you pull him in for a heated, messy kiss.

are you trying to kill him? because he might just die – worse, his dick is twitching uncontrollably and he swears he's gonna blow his load right then and there.

your pleading makes him go feral, almost folding you in half while holding your thighs higher against his torso, slamming his dick deep into you and moaning against your lips shamelessly before moving to bite on your collarbone, he feels like he's going crazy – like his whole body is about to combust.

"you'll look so pretty... all round with our baby... wan' make you a mommy so bad!"

[x-hotoke]

How would Gojo react to his weak little brother passing away from his illness while he was away? The little brother getting weaker and weaker before they can't even sit up and are just mostly asleep due to their illness.

Weak As They Said

content warnings: abuse, death.

— GOJO SATORU

The following years were hellish for the young Gojo. Your illness has gotten worse year by year and yet the doctors still haven't found a cure yet.

You were hooked up in an IV. You could barely open your mouth to feed yourself anymore so they decided to insert a feeding tube to deliver your nutritions three times a day.

And of course, Satoru.

The man could barely look at your weak form, the edge of his mouth would quirk downwards as he looks at your sleeping form. That's what you have done all day for the past years, sleep, eat, drink your medicine.

You were getting weaker and weaker and he could tell. His six eyes doesn't fail him—yet he doesn't care, you are a liability anyways. What use could you be for the Clan?

Satoru wasn't always there, of course. He is the Strongest after all, he has duties to fulfil. That includes watching thru the CCTVs he placed inside and outside your confinement to keep an eye out for you.

He doesn't care for your wellbeing, he's just being a nice. Right?

Satoru stares at your sleeping form, hands inside his pockets. He looks at the different tubes you were wired up to. “Y/n” he spoke, fixing the lamp beside your bed to distract himself.

“I’ll be going away for a mission.” Satoru added, licking his lips. He didn't understand what he was feeling—he doesn't want to leave but he knows he need to. He let out a sigh, turning to the shoji doors. “Get well soon.”

A couple of weeks passed by and you weren't waking up. The maids refused to go inside your room because of the smell coming from it.

It reeked of rotting flesh.

After Satoru came back from his long mission, he wasn't fazed by it. He knew you would succumb to your illness soon enough.

But did you really?

During the past weeks following up to your death, you were neglected by your caretakers. Not given enough food nor medicine that helps stabilize your health somehow. It went to the point that your health started deteriorating and stopped functioning as well.

They were horrible.

Stealing stuff from your room—knowing that you can't do anything about it nor speak up. It started from that to physically abusing you.

It took weeks and finally an autopsy to confirm how you died. Satoru was stunned and livid when the doctors filled him in, the bruises on your stomach and arms were hidden away from him by your yukata—he didn't even realize it up until now. The swelling of your stomach irked him. It's not like he doesn't see this everyday in his line of work. But it was how they thought they can take advantage of a Gojo that angered him the most.

He held a funeral for you that day.

Your caretakers didn't attend—they resigned after your death. He wouldn't contact them, no. He won't even file a case against them. Anything that involved the police nor any government was a big no. He'll do it in his own way.

Even if it meant hunting each of them down to avenge you—make things right. It's better for them to know not to mess with the strongest sorcerer in modern era.

Everything is possible nowadays.

That furthermore motivated him to find away to resurrect you. Whether you like it or not.

hi! i hope you enjoy this one szisxisjd. I've been busy with school n' stuff 😓

[d0g0r0t]

can I pls have yandere Toby??? pretty please

Yandera Toby

TW:GROSS SHIT!!! Obsession, stalking, violence, sh

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!!!!

He's low-key so pathetic

Seeing how pretty and kind you are he couldn't help but fall... well become obsessed

Your his!.... who the fuck are they? Why aren't you with him your supposed to be with him not them!

Yea no. He's all over the place when it comes to you

He'll sneak into your house, stealing things that smell like you or remind him of you

Stealing your perfume and using that shit like Febreze. He can barely breath in his own room anymore cause he used the whole bottle, reeking the room with your smell

He steals your deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, bodywash. Just to feel a little closer to you

He takes your underwear every now and then. Over time you'll find it on your door step all... sticky and.. what the fuck is that smell?

It's gross.

He takes your worn out shirts ALOT. You always looking threw your closet trying to find that one band tee the just suddenly disappeared

He'll give them back once he has you <3

Leaving you with little hickeys and red bruises on your neck when you sleep

He loves seeing you wake up in the morning confused on why you have these marks on your throat knowing damn well you didn't go out that night

He really does like you. He sees his obsession as a simple crush when it really isnt

He's never had someone he can see romantically so it was weird when he found out he DID love you

He gets emotional. Seeing you with someone else or not by his side

It feels like your betraying him even tho you don't know he exists

He talks about you SO.MUCH

It's like that stupid "hey masky" thing but instead it's "y/n" over and over again

Tim AND Brian have both rocked his shit because he wouldn't shut up

He has so many pictures of you on his walls. Some of you sleep, some of you eating, working, brushing your teeth, bathing. It's insane how many his got of you

He stalks your socials with his victims phones, getting BEN to figure your locations and you WHOLE life story

He knows a little to much about you

"Oh! Y/n order pizza last night at 7:46pm!"

"How... how the fuck do you know that?.."

He knows all of your accounts on and social. He wants to like your stuff but he doesn't want you to know him just yet

He screenshots your stuff and favoring all your videos to the phone

His wallpaper his your face and his password his you name or birthday

His tics slowly started to form around you as well. Him randomly stuttering out your name or something about you

The moment he actually kidnaps you is when he killed everyone you know and love

He's the only one you should love and think about. Just like him!

He holds you in his bed, ropes around you wrists and ankles

He would never put you in some nasty basement your to pretty for something like that

He stares at you for hours. Watching you struggle and squirm as desperate tears stream down your face. His head and arms rested up on the bed as he just watches you

He only keeps you tied you to his bed for a little while

He may be crazy but he's not abusive and wants you to be comfortable... kinda

He never hurts you, or tries not to

The only time he'll hurt you is if you try to leave him

But let's just hope you don't do that

He keeps you locked in his room for God who knows how long

He brings you your favorite goods and drinks and overall treats you well

He knows you won't love him right away but he doesn't want you to hate him

He asks if he can touch you or do certain things

If you say yes he's praising you and thanking you. But if you say no he begs for a bit but understand after a moment

He doesn't want to hurt you, he really doesn't

The idea of you being in pain from his hands reminds him of his father and the way Lyra looked after every beating broke him

He doesn't want to see you like that

He literally BEGS you if he can kiss you. On his hands and knees "PLEASEEEEEEE"

When you do he's shaky and doesn't know where to put his hands. He gets so needy for your lips and becomes a bit aggressive

Biting your lips, shoving his tounge in your mouth. It's wild

He bites at his fingers so much just thinking about you to where he starts bleeding.

Or scratching at his skin at the thought of you with someone else

Sad

NSFW

GROSS SHIT!!!_______________________________________

Jerks off to your pictures every night no questions asked

Uses your underwear as a cum rag hints why it's so gross and sticky

He's moaning your name softly as he cums, whimpering and gripping at the sheets just thinking about how gorgeous you are

CAN NOT control himself around you

He has so little sex life he's like a 14 boy who just hit puberty and can't look at a girl in the eyes

He's tenting so bad it looks actually painful

When you catch him staring at your body he turns in a mess apologizing that he was looking at the he didn't mean it like that. And covering his boner...

The thought of YOU and HIM was like a dream that he knew would never happen.

Feeling your soft gummy walls around him is all he thought about

When ever he touches you he gets needy and wanting to touch you even more

If you two are ACTUALLY involved don't be surprised when randomly you get groped aggressively

He loves seeing you squirming and trembling under him. Soft tears streaming down your pink face as he bucks himself balls deep. Heavenly

SORRY ONCE AGAIN SHIT IS TAKING SO LONGGG

Also ik u didn't ask for NSFW I just had to 💀

[syoddeye]

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old. 

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess. 

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you. 

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that. 

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out. 

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying. 

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic. 

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit. 

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

~~

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years." 

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

~~

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

[bothoutsiders]

prompt: tim finding out/being told by jason about bruce's and jason's baterang incident ?

Jason had been on the couch all morning, reading a new novel that he had bought online. He impatiently waited for weeks and now that he finally had it in his hands, he decided to take a break from everything and just enjoy it. The style of the writer, the way they made him explore the world, the dialogue, the relationship between characters... Everything was so nice. So perfect.

He had completely forgotten about the world around him, so immersed in the story that it took him completely by surprise when small and warm hands cupped his face oh so gently. Immediate panic began to rise in his chest and his eyes scanned the other person, trying to understand the situation, trying to connect the dots.

The one kneeling next to him was Tim, his eyebrows drawn together with worry.

"What are-- what happened?"

Tim didn't answer and slowly, as if Jason was a wounded animal that might escape him if he wasn't careful, lifted his face. A gentle, but calloused hand, caressed the left side of his neck.

Jason didn't move an inch, feeling Tim's warm breath on his shoulder and small fingers exploring his neck. The novel was still in his hand, abandoned and forgotten, his full attention on what his boyfriend was doing.

"Who did this to you, Jason?"

His mind went black. He had no idea of what Tim was talking about or what he had there. Could have it been the razor that he used in the morning? A bruise from a fight?

But the repetitive touch on the same place made him realize. Tim was staring and touching a particular scar. A scar that, for a very long time, made him go crazy with anger.

"Why are you interested in that particular scar, baby bird?"

"Tell me who did this to you, Jason." Tim's voice was serious as he cupped his face again and looked him in the eye.

Jason could feel the intensity of it and after a few moments, he released his novel, placing the book on the small table next to him.

"Does it matter?" It wasn't that he wanted to hide this from Tim, but he knew how much his boyfriend admired Bruce.

Yes, he hated Bruce. If that man's life depended on him, he would let him die without a second thought-- but for Tim? For Tim it was different. He still had some attachments to Bruce. He still expected good things, even if they were just crumbs. Jason was past that. Way past that.

"It does to me."

There was silence, both staring at each other, and just when Tim thought Jason wouldn't answer, he did.

"Bruce."

Tim's eyes welled up in just a second. His face was flushed and his chin quivered. He was feeling so many things at the same time. He was furious, sad and so disappointed...

Jason placed a hand on Tim's, caressing it gently. He didn't know what to say anymore and maybe this was the reason why he never mentioned it before. While he hated Bruce, it didn't mean he was going to crush Tim's heart only to have someone else joining his hate club.

He could drown in that nasty, violent feeling, but his love for Tim was way stronger than that. He wouldn't take him down with him.

He wasn't like Bruce.

"I'm so sorry, Jason," Tim was sobbing. Feeling betrayed, guilty, angry. "I didn't know--"

"That's how it should've been. I don't know who told you about it, but you don't have to feel anything on my behalf, Timmy. I learned my lesson. He would choose anyone's life over mine and while it still stings, there's nothing that will change that. I know that. But it also doesn't mean he would treat you the same... Right?"

It was perhaps only lip service, because he was sure to always be ready in case something happened or someone hurt Tim. If something similar were to happen to his baby bird- he would take action. He would choose Tim over the whole world without hesitation.

"But he--"

"Hey, it's fine." Jason pulled him onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. He wasn't going to give Tim much time to think about it. What for? He didn't need Tim hurting himself over a personal beef. Cupping Tim's messy face with a hand, Jason pulled him into a soft kiss. "It's not like whatever is out there would let me die anyway. You're now stuck with me forever, baby bird."

--

hey anon, i hope this was the batarang incident you were talking about. i thought of having tim touching every scar on jason's body and asking for each of them, but i thought this scene would have more emotional weight. hope it's of your liking :)

[mattmurdock-wife24]

From a boy to a men

Author's note: hi sweetie! Hope you like this one, have a good reading ✨️

This was a request

Warning: none, just pure soft and fluff stuff, and kisses

He hears his name shouted, adored, praised. He's never felt better, to be idolized, loved. He was raised for this, to be the sparkle in people's eyes, but all the lying and pretending didn't go down your throat.

You are the princess of the kingdom allied to Kenji's, promised to each other from birth. And you couldn't understand why everyone loved him so much, he's arrogant, petty, careless, a complete idiot and you hated him for it.

Today you'll meet him for dinner at his house, with your parents and his father. Where he'll ask for your hand in marriage, since your 18th birthday was not too long ago.

So you put on your most breathtaking dress, tidy up your wavy hair and put a cute bow in it, and drape a blouse over your dark skin. You enter the castle to be greeted by a warm embrace from the king, Gedde Wanatabe. Your eyes meet Kenji's, which have a wicked, dark glint in them.

The dinner itself was peaceful, but as it drew to a close, everyone became tense, and King Wanatabe handed Kenji a little black velvet box. Everyone got up, and Kenji knelt down in front of you, who were still sitting there in shock - it was really happening. You could hear your heart in your ears and you feared that Kenji would hear it too. The ring fit perfectly on your finger.

Everyone smiles, relieved, and leaves the "bride and groom" alone. You put your hands on your waist, trying to get as far away from Kenji as possible after the wedding, you hear him laugh and you grimace. "Why are you always so fucking mad at me?" He exhales.

"Because you're an idiot "And?" " because you're irresponsible" "And what, princess?"

You get angry and your body makes a sign to leave and he grabs your arm.

"I know you think I'm an idiot, but this idiot here is going to become the king" you sigh, annoyed "Your title doesn't matter, what matters is your heart, if you even have one! " you sigh " if you want to be a good king, a good husband. Become a man first, because all I see here is a bruised, asshole boy."

Your words hurt him in a way he had never felt before, it was like a bucket of cold water. He felt dirty, guilt rising through his body, so he was determined to do better, for you, for the kingdom.

He began to work harder, pulling all-nighters to resolve royal issues. He treated his subordinates with modesty and even his relationship with his father had improved, now all that was left was for you in his hands to love and care for... forever.

The big day had arrived, and you were on edge. You hadn't seen Kenji since that night. You look at yourself in the mirror, watching as the beautiful white lace dress dances down your curves. You're startled by the knock on the door, but you open it anyway.

You meet Kenji, who stares at you in amazement. You see a certain desperation in his voice when he says that you two need to talk.

"What do you want? The ceremony is about to start." "I did everything you asked, I changed, for you, for the crown, for my father. I worked until I couldn't anymore. And you were right, I was a piece of shit" you stare in disbelief at his words, this certainly wasn't the Kenji you knew "please"he whispers in your ear "be mine"

You were at the altar, with Kenji by your side, staring at you with a passionate look, which only made you even more nervous. When the priest said "till death do you part" Kenji grabbed you around the waist and kissed you deeply. Part of you felt embarrassed by the number of people watching, but another part of you just wanted to enjoy the moment, enjoy this new Kenji. "I'm already yours, I always have been" you sigh back into his ear.

hiii lovely soul, hope you liked it!

My requests are open and I write for several characters, and sometimes I can make an exception haha

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 😊✨️

[sherwees]

cuddle-fuck-later-with-a-side-dish

cw : past arguments,dubcon reaching into noncon bcs of the manipulation part of it , mentions of abuse, reader has cuts and scratches previously inflicted on their body, and just straight fucked shit.

Hendery gawked at you and your boyfriend, Eunseok as he shuffled the uno cards in his hands nearly giving himself a paper cut from his aggression.

This was meant to a friends night not a cuddle-fuck-later-with-a-side-dish night.

He didn't care before but now it was getting to his head, he never even realized he was staring too long until he met with Eunseok's glare.

“Do you have a staring problem, Kunhang?” He ended with a laugh and a punch to his shoulder, he wasn't truly irritated until you joined in with your ugly little high pitched scream-like laughter. It sounded really forced, fucking attention seeking bitch.

Eunseok only said his real name for satirical reasons, did he think that he was a joke?

Some type of fucking loser?

You both didn't even see him as a real friend anymore.

“I'm just wondering when you both would talk to me. It was meant to be a group– hangout.” He hung on the word ‘group’ a bit as his crude eyes only met your own, not that same soft brown from when you first met him only 2 years ago.

“Aye, there's no need to be low. You could even join in.” He snickered and attempted to punch your shoulder but you flinched; fuck he was going to get you for that.

Now, you could only stare at Hendery, focused on shuffling the cards with his skilled fingers as you thought about what you did only a few minutes earlier and the future. Your arms crossed against your chest as your back seeked comfort on the couch behind you.

You felt relieved, there was a sudden buzzing beside you from the couch cushion, Eunseok's light brown strands tickle your nose as he reaches over to grab his phone.

“Ah, babe I gotta take this.” He leaves a fleeting peck on your lips, he then fleeted to a vacant room and unintentionally slammed a random door. He hollers a “sorry”, at least.

“Why are you so silent, _______?” His tone seemed slightly sarcastic and held no sort of concern to it, it almost held a secret scorn to it.

“I'm just.. sorry..? For everything I've done." You can't even look him in the eye. You don't even say it as a statement either, it was more of a question. You don't intentionally leave him out, he just doesn't talk. When you even confront him, he just denies it and runs away.

He was very.. passing for a person.

“For all those times, you left me out in the cold for hours because of Eunseok, the times where you would put your anger all against me. Why don't you ever consider my feelings?” His arms slowly wrap around your waist with a uncomfortable squeeze, he laid his chin on your collarbone; his breath fanning your neck. The warmth of his lap brings you a sordid comfort as you laid snug against him, your breath following the rhythm of is.

“But Eu-”

You flinched as he raises a finger to your lips but then places a sudden chaste kiss, causing you to yank your head away.

“I raise a single finger and you could only flinch away from your true love..” His hand lowers to your inner thigh with a sigh, you could only melt into his touch as he raved on and on into your ear about your ‘fucked up’ relationship whilst he feverishly grinds his hot erection on the curvature of your ass.

He might be correct about your own beloved boyfriend..

All those nights that ended with glass shards either stuck in a cut, on the ground, the bruises on your waist from the times he would pound you on your kitchen counter for hours; ignoring your pleas to stop just because you burnt the peas.

“C’mon and I'll treat you right once and for all? You could trust me right?” He reassured in your ear whilst he fiddled with the waistband of his black cargo pants with a lazy smirk.

You could only whimper a weak yes until he slapped your thigh with a bite at your neck, raising your tone into a scream.

“That's more like it..” He manages to tug his pants down as he gracefully lays you down on his white rug, you could feel your jean skirt slightly bunch. A smile tugs at his lips as your hands immediately attempt to cover the nature of the cuts on your thigh. Your eyes gather with tears once more as he traces your half healed scars with his finger; some blood even caked up on his tip.

“Kunhang, stop.” You squeaked but he only continued, a smile accumulating on his face.

You felt the bile raise in your throat once he swirled a crimson heart on your thigh, the disgust urked you enough to slap his hand away. You were quick to maneuver yourself on your elbows, Hendery's expression turned stoic just as quickly once he landed a harsh slap to your face.

“How fucking dare you?” He practically spat in your face.

“You're fucking crazy, Kunhang!” You attempted to yell but it came out as scratchy, it made you seen weaker as always. Managing to stand with the support of the couch, the pain of your scabs shot down your legs.

“Now I understand why he beats your fuckin’ ass, you stubborn little slut.”

His words shot deep into your soul, you felt choked up from the harshness. Your felt the spit accumulate in your mouth, your lips quivered, you couldn't cry..

“Whatever, I'm finding Eunnie, I'll give you a moment.” You attempt to muster a mature tone even though you used his cutesy nickname but it only comes up as a weak whisper when you shove past Hendery. You heard hurried footsteps behind you but you didn't bother as you muttered all types of curses under your breath. I mean what type of friend fucking does that?

You could only wince as you felt a brute force pin your face against the cold wall, you felt the warm bump of Hendery's erection against your lower back.

“Maybe you could muster up a little nickname for me too, yknow?” He tutted, you could imagine the smirk across his face.

He reached for the button of your skirt as he shoved it off once he heard the clean pop of it as you writhed, attempting to escape.

“Sweetheart, your stubbornness is the main reason why males like him beat on ya’, listen to me and it wouldn't be a problem.” You felt him rub his leaking tip against your unexpecting hole, causing a full twitch in your lower region and you could only grip and grab behind you for his shirt for leverage.

You cried out from the sudden stretch of his girthy cock in your clenched hole, you nearly pushed him out with aid of your slick but it only made him push harder.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He huffed into your neck as his hands found refuge around your waist with a squeeze. His member pulsated and stretched your hole out with every pound, his tip constantly hit your cervix as you ached.

Your cries only sounded like a melody to him and it only brought him closer to release. He then craned his neck to leave bites and hickeys along your the supple skin as you squealed and your legs only clenched together attempting to slow his harsh thrusts. Your ears were burning in embarrassment of the sounds that emitted out of you along with the sounds of his balls clapping against your wet heat along with the slick friction of his girth in your hole. You tuned it out but it only made you realize,

Eunseok was only in the other room... finishing his said call from earlier.

Your head wildly snapped back, attempting to blink your tears away, you scream whispered: “Hendery please!” you worried your lip between your teeth. In an attempt to nudge him away with your ass, he stilled for a second; giving you a sense of relief but only for a second once he slapped the back of your thigh.

“You want me so fuckin’ bad princess, m��� close and you're gonna take it all, alright?” His rasp grunt echoed through your empty head as he set an inhumane pace that'll leave your hole sore for who knows how long, his damp bangs feathering your jaw.

You stumbled over your words as you tried to warn him but the only thing you got in return was the feeling of his warm seed infiltrating your hole and the sound of a door opening.

part 2

[princess--af]

Nesting Pt 2 (Felix & Changbin)

... Sorry? I have actually been really busy with uni and work since it's EOFY and everything just goes to shit.... Whoops lol. I have the prequel semi-written but it will take a little bit to flush it out. I am on break from uni until 26 June so should be able to work on it and a few more things as long as life doesn't kick me in the ass :)

Tagging some people: @justayoungandwisefangirl @3rachasninja @bmnyy @licklix @iadorethemskz @nobody3210

Nesting Part 1

You brushed it off as just a noise from downstairs, instead threading your fingers through the soft blonde hair on the nape of his neck, tugging lightly, curious to see what kind of reaction you would get.

You didn’t expect the soft whine Felix let out in response, muffled against your lips, but still clear as day to anyone in the room. “Y/N…” Felix whined, breaking the kiss to tuck his head into your neck, biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulder to muffle his groan when you tugged on his hair harder.

“Felix,” you whined back teasingly. He grumbled something under his breath before resuming his artwork on your neck, sucking almost painful bruises anywhere he could reach. Every time you let out a shaky whine, he would sooth the area with his tongue before moving on, working his way from your jaw, to behind your ear, to the top of your shoulder, down your chest, until your dress stopped him from going further. Huffing, he tried tugging the straps down your arms, determined to get it out of the way so he could keep going.

“Hey, wait, we didn’t talk about-“ you used one hand to cover your rapidly rising and now mostly bare chest, the other instinctively curling around his nape to move him away from your bruised chest. “Felix, you asked to kiss me. I didn’t think we’d be…”

Felix blinked at you slowly, licking his swollen lips, eyes darting from your face to your uncovered chest. You had to be honest with yourself; the way he was looking at you like he was going to devour you whole, made you flustered. And horny. If it weren’t for his body in the way, you would’ve been clenching your thighs together for any kind of friction right now.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, not able to look him in the eyes anymore, instead fixing on his chest, smooth and perfect skin peeking out from his silky shirt.

“Like what?”

You startled slightly. Felix always had a deep voice that contrasted his otherwise angelic appearance, but it was now so deep and grumbly, you wouldn’t have thought it was him except for the barest accent that always followed the Australian-native around.

You cleared your throat, moving your hands so they were both covering your chest now, feeling a little insecure with how intensely he was staring at you. “Like you’re going to eat me,” you replied, braving looking him in the eyes now to see his reaction.

His eyes widened minutely for a moment, before curling into sweet little crescents as he laughed. His hands at your sides started wriggling their way underneath your body until you were completely encased in his arms, Felix now nuzzling his head into your chest, nipping at your fingers until you moved them and stopped covering yourself.

“I’d like to eat you…” 

He caught the fabric of your dress between his teeth, looking up at you through his lashes, innocently blinking up at you as he moved slowly down your body, the flimsy satin of your dress easily sliding along with his movements until it was bunched at your hips. You flicked your hands out of the straps, breathing out shakily at the devilish grin Felix gave you, nimble hands lifting you slightly to slide the dress the rest of the way off, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

He flung the dress behind him carelessly, and any argument you may have had left your mind when he started leaving open mouthed kisses along the insides of your thighs, hands forcing them open when you instinctively tried to close them. “Stay still for me. No closing these.” You nodded, not quite trusting your voice, tightly gripping the soft blankets beneath you. Felix gave you one more cheeky smile before hooking a finger in the crotch of your panties, tugging the flimsy material to the side and licking one long stripe up your cunt. “Fuck, are you always this wet?” Felix growled into you, latching onto your clit and sucking harshly, rolling the bud between his plush lips, a loud squeak leaving you in response.

“Oh go- Felix.” He had barely begun and he was already leaving you more of a mess than any of your past partners had. His tongue switched between soft, teasing figure eights over the swollen bud, and firm flicks up and down, seemingly intent on driving you crazy and leaving you on the cusp of the edge already.

“Do you think you can cum just from my mouth?” He barely took his mouth of you to ask, the vibrations making you whine and throw your head back. “I think you can. I know you can. Pretty girl will give me anything I want, as long as I lick her pretty pussy, hmm?” The only response you gave was a low moan, hips twitching up off the bed when he gave a harsh suck on the swollen bud. Felix moved his hands to your hips, encouraging your gentle movements, his tongue held steady and firm for you to roll your pussy against.

“Felix,” you whimpered, hands cramping from where you were holding the blankets so tight, hips stuttering to a barely there roll against his mouth. “Felix, please.” You pressed down onto his tongue more, letting out a little sob when he sucked your swollen clit between his lips, tongue flicking quickly and harshly against it, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force to prevent you from moving away from his face. “God yes, almost-” You chanced a look down at him, his dark eyes already looking at you, pupils blow down as his mouth brought you to the edge. His teeth scraping lightly against your clit we’re what did it, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your whole body shaking as the pleasure worked its way from your ravaged pussy to the rest of your body, Felix’s tongue not stopping its assault on you until you were bucking out of his hold, whimpering and whining that you were sensitive.

Felix gently lowered you back onto the blankets, giving you one last teasing kiss on your mound before perking up onto his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good?”

You giggle weakly, nodding your head, arms held up for the boy to dive into. Felix tucked his head into your neck, careful not to rest too heavily on your sensitive lower half. It was only then that you noticed the two creamy coloured ears poking out of his blonde hair, tickling your jaw. “Oh, your ears?” Felix simply hummed, and you noticed a flicking in the corner of your eye. “And tail. Am I ignorant or have they not been here the whole time?”

You didn’t get a response from the boy. You began carding your fingers through his hair, scratching tentatively at the base of one of his ears, the soft purring giving away how much he seem to like it.

“They only come out at certain times. Usually when he’s happy.”

The shriek that came out of you was unholy, jumping so violently that Felix fell of you and into the blanket mound next to you. Standing just inside the door, leaning leisurely on the wall, was Changbin.

“I feel very happy when I get to pleasure someone.” Felix stretched out on the blanket next to you, throwing one of your mostly naked body when he saw how surprised you were. “Don’t worry, he’s not angry. He’s probably just jealous.”

Changbin scoffed, but didn’t exactly deny it, pushing off the wall and making his way over to the nest, kneeling on the floor just outside of it. You were curious why he didn’t just get in, but held your tongue. “Did you have fun?”

It was silent for a moment before you realised he had directed the question at you, eyes curious and mouth twitching into a smirk. You glanced at Felix, the hybrid blinking sleepily at you.

“I did. Felix is… quite talented with his mouth,” you whispered the last bit, still a little embarrassed to have been caught. Changbin barked out a laugh, reaching out to ruffle Felix’s hair, ignoring the whine of annoyance as he messed up his hair. “He said you were okay with this.”

“Yeah, I am. I can’t deny him anything he wants, and he’s certain he wants you,” Changbin shrugged, a fond look on his face as he watched Felix struggle to fix his fluffed up hair. You could see how much he loved and adored the young hybrid, and you weren’t sure if you were jealous of Felix for having someone love him so dearly, or of Changbin for being able to love so deeply without consequence. “As long as you don’t let it affect your work, I don’t really care what you do together. You’re both adults, and I trust you’ll both be safe.”

Felix wiggled happily next to you, finally forgetting his hair to launch himself at Changbin and pull him into the nest, rolling around until Felix was tucked between you both, lying on his side, making Changbin curl behind him, the hybrid facing you with a sneaky grin on his face. You copied his position, blanket still hiding your body, lying on your side with your hands tucked in front of you. “Can we play when you’re here, Binnie?”

“Felix!” Both you and Changbin yelled at the same time, Changbin giving a warning tug on Felix’s tail, you simply settling for a glare. It didn’t deter the boy a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t know if you know this, but being part cat means I can smell and hear a hell of a lot more than humans can,” Felix started, batting away Changbin’s hands when he tried to cover the hybrids mouth to silence him. “At first I thought it was just nervousness from being around your boss, but you’re awfully close to each other now, and your heart still flutters whenever Binnie is close-by, and not to weird you out but I can kind of smell when you get turned on…”

Well. You didn’t fucking know he could do all that.

“Binnie also talks A LOT when he drinks, and I know he thinks you’re hot and wouldn’t mind sharing…”

Changbin let out a loud groan, burying his face into the back of Felix’s neck. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but the gasp Felix let out made you think he had bit the boy. They certainly had a thing for biting. “You’re a menace.”

“What do you say, Y/N? He doesn’t have to touch you if it’s weird, but I like sharing, and I want to share these moments,” Felix put on of his hands on your hip, squeezing gently. He began kneading again, squeezing and pulling, almost like he was trying to entice you and pull you closer, but playing it off like it was innocent.

Yeah it was kind of fucking weird, being intimate with your boss watching. All you had to really do was get the idea that he was your boss out of your head, and you would probably really fucking enjoy whatever the pair had to offer you, even if it was only just for a short while.

You let out a sigh before you wiggled closer to Felix, catching Changbin’s eyes from where he was peeking out from behind Felix. You could tell he was smiling, even if you couldn’t see the rest of his face; the sweet crinkles around his eyes gave way to his obvious excitement.

Felix perked up instantly, curling his arm the rest of the way around you so he could pull you flush against his front. His hand gripped the blanket covering you, pulling it away slowly so as to give you a chance to back out. You gripped his shirt between your shaking hands to stop you from pulling it back, feeling awfully more insecure now that there were two of them looking at you.

Sensing you weren’t going to stop him, Felix flung it off the rest of the way, gripping your thigh almost possessively in one hand and pulling it up around his hip, exposing your lower half.

“I’m still a bit sensitive,” you whispered, twitching when his fingers gently circled your clit over your panties. It was a weird sensation; you weren’t used to multiple orgasms to close together, most of your previous partners usually just giving you one as an afterthought after they had already cum. It was a tad painful, but Felix was gentle as he drew light circles on the bud, the pain faded into an almost calming oversensitivity that made your body tingle. You didn’t flinch when you felt another hand tug the soaked material down over the swell of your ass, instead helping to shimmy it down and kicking the material off somewhere with the rest of your belongings. This hand was rougher than Felix’s, but was still soft as it held your leg up so Felix could continue to play, fingers dipping lower until he was teasing your entrance.

“Be gentle, baby,” you heard Changbin mumble into Felix’s neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your thigh where he was holding it up. It was all Felix needed to push a finger into you, shushing you softly when you let out a little whimper. You had to remind yourself to relax your body around the intrusion, letting out shaky breaths as Felix thrust his finger in and out, experimentally curling it slightly more each time until he felt you tense up and moan out softly.

“There we go,” Felix giggled, pushing a second finger in to join the first in rubbing against your spot every second thrust into you, leaving you panting in his chest and clenching your body so tightly to try keep his fingers inside that you thought you would cramp up. You growled in frustration at his slow pace, pushing your hips down to chase his fingers whenever they pulled out; as much as you could with Changbin gripping your thigh so hard you could barely move your lower body.

“Please go faster.” You thumped his chest lightly, not even feeling embarrassed at the little laughs that came from the two men.

Felix shifted slightly, getting more comfortable before he really started, arm tensed and shaking violently as he fingered you, pressing against your most sensitive spot almost brutally every time his fingers pushed back into you knuckle deep. You moaned in relief, trailing a hand down to Changbin’s, loosing his grip and leading his hand to your neglected clit. You caught his eye over Felix’s shoulder, shooting him a pleading look.

You could’ve squealed in delight when he began circling your clit, the roughness of his fingers sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“You gonna cum for us, pretty girl?”

You could barely hear Felix over the obscene wet sounds your pussy was making, growing louder when Felix somehow sped up even more, Changbin matching the speed with the circles he was abusing your clit with.

“Fuck yes.” You threw your head back onto the pillows, baring your throat for Felix to latch onto, the hybrid biting down on your neck and sending you over the edge. You cried out, a mix between moans and whines and genuine sobs as the boys worked you through your second orgasm of the night, your body trembling at the oversensitivity but not wanting to push them away. You could barely feel anything, not even twitching when Felix pulled his fingers out of you, only watching through blurred eyes as he sucked the wetness from his fingers with a smirk, turning his head to give Changbin a heated kiss. If your body wasn’t already depleted of energy for the night, the sight of them kissing would be enough to get you going again. It took you a minute to realise they had stopped, now both levelling you with heated looks.

Felix ducked back into your neck and licked over the wound he had created, Changbin’s hand reaching over Felix to cup the other side of your neck, pressing his fingers into the bruises Felix had created earlier until you were whining out.

“We’re definitely sharing you from now on.”

[americas-ass-writing]

Drunken Nights

Steve Rogers

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A bet has unforeseen consequences that drive Bucky Barnes insane.

Warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, mention of abortion rights, this is such a crack fic I'm sorry, reader insert mention at the end

Author's Note: This is my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza I used the prompt: "You are such a fucking menace.” and kinda sneaked it in because I've been sitting on this fic for at least a year 😅 The idea sparked because @rogerswifesblog and me had a conversation about this 🤭

Divider by @saradika-graphics

It started out as a joke. It started with the Avengers discussing what kind of drunk Steve would be. Tony firmly believed he would be embarrassing, he would spill all the secrets he kept. Natasha thought he would pass out after two drinks. Clint was adamant that Steve would be a very touchy drunk. Thor believed that his friend would be as normal as ever. And Bruce honestly didn't have an opinion but after some pressing said Steve would be a dance machine when drunk. After a while Sam and Bucky were pulled into the discussion. As his best friends they had to know but they didn't. Bucky saw him drunk once, in the 40s, before the serum. And Steve honestly was just paranoid his mom would find out they drank a whole bottle of gin.

Steve was so annoyed with the topic and bets about his drunken state that he didn't say anything for the entire two hours this was passionately discussed. But he did agree on testing the theory. He hasn't been drunk since that one time Bucky mentioned and he was honestly intrigued. He had so many things he wanted to forget, even if it was for just a few hours. An empty brain for once, wouldn't that be nice?

Which is what brought him here. An Avengers party organised by Tony with a shit ton of guests. Three bottles of Asgardian liquor in front of him and his friends staring. The first bottle left a slight buzz. Steve could feel the effects of the alcohol but his brain was still functioning normal. The second bottle made him forget his worries. He had an easy smile on his face as his friends all surrounded him. The third bottle? He took along after his friends got distracted. They left him alone for a few moments too long. The senator he was verbally fighting before stood at the bar alone and Bucky's brain brought back an alarming feeling he hadn't had for a long time. "Fuck... We gotta find Steve!" He said, his voice panicked as he looked at the group of Avengers.

It was a quick search but they were fairly sure Steve wasn't here anymore. "Friday?" Tony's voice quibbed, all of the others’ eyes were on the brown haired man. "Captain Rogers has left the building with a tall male, identified as Jason Smith, bodyguard of senator Ernst, about five minutes ago." The AIs voice gave back, without even being asked the question.

"Told you he'd be very touchy." Clint says with a shrug and a grin. Natasha rolled her eyes at that but didn't seem that bothered. "No... No no no." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. "fucking hell. He's gonna start a fight. He probably went outside with the bodyguard to start a fight in an alleyway." He grumbles. This couldn't be happening to him. Weren't all those years he had to pull Steve's asthmatic ass out of fights enough?

"Are we talking about the same Steve Rogers? He has a stick so far up his ass he even shook Rosses hand with a smile on his face." Tony quibbed. "He's just reverting to the idiot that couldn't stand back from a fight. I'm telling you." Bucky gave back, throwing his hands up in the air. "No way. Capsicle wouldn't. Even when shit faced drunk he's too righteous." Tony crossed his arms.

"Boys... I really hate to interrupt your little banter here but Smith is back... And... He doesn't look like he had a fun time with Steve." Natasha quirked an eyebrow as she took in the senators bodyguard. Bloody nose, already forming bruise under his eye and a limp in his step that hasn't been there before. "Fuck" both brunettes let out at the same time.

"Hey Captain. Maybe you wanna lay off the liquor?" the tall man's voice interrupted Steve's rant about abortion rights. "Leave this discussion with senator Ernst for another time huh? We don't wanna run into any problems do we?" Steve's eyes took in the man in front of him. He's a professional sure but Steve had fought fucking aliens before. "Wanna take this outside?" It slipped out before he could even think about it. The bodyguard laughed, one hand landing on Steve's shoulder as if it was a joke. Funny banter. But Steve was serious. He was in the middle of telling senator asshat why abortion rights are important. Why women deserve the option to be safe and protected and to choose for their own bodies. Why his fucking religion has nothing to do with an uterus. And this guy has the nerve to think Steve's invitation for a fight is a joke? "I'm serious. Let's take this outside. If I win, senator a... Ernst changes his vote." Steve's voice was dangerous. If Smith hadn't seen him down two and a half bottles of liquor he'd believe he was sober. "Captain... By all means I'm working. I can't just go outside and start a fight over silly little matters." That got Steve's blood boiling. Of course that guy was also stupid. "Ah yes of course..." Steve gave back dryly. His hand moves to shove the senator next to them just a nodge. "And now? Now you gotta do your job and protect senator asshat. I can do so much worse than that." His blue eyes flickered, a smirk on his lips. Just a few minutes later Steve had handed Smiths ass to himself in an alleyway close by.

While Smith stomped off, fuming, Steve downed the rest of the bottle and threw it into a bin. He's drunk, he starts fights but he'll still recycle. Taking a deep breath he looks back to the tower. He couldn't be bothered to go back there. Maybe he could go for a walk? Maybe he could let out all this pent up anger and frustration and do something good with it. This is New York. There were enough criminals for him to use as punching bags right?

"Captain Rogers. Can you please give us a statement as to how you took down this robbery all by yourself?" The blonde in front of him asked, holding the mic a bit too close to his face. He still pleasantly smiled. "Oh uh... I was just in the area and saw it happen... So I swooped in?" He explains, that stupid smile still on his face. As the women asks the next question he just starts to giggle. He runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry... Sorry... It's a serious topic but man Bucky is gonna be so mad at me" he giggles again.

"Damn right I will." Bucky mutters at his phone. There had been several reports of Captain America stopping crime in the last hour and every time one of the team got just a little closer to Steve's apparent location he somehow ended up in a different part of Manhattan. Bucky doesn't even want to know how many fights Steve had started tonight. Never again, he swears. Never again he'll let him get drunk.

After another hour Bucky finally had the blonde in front of him. He was yet again sucked into an interview and passionately ranted about how racism and Nazis suck when Bucky managed to approach. His arms were crossed, his face was stern.

"I think it's important that we show racists... Oh my gosh Bucky is gonna be so mad at me... Uh that we show racists that they're not welcome." Steve says before his eyes find his friend. "Shit." He curses, eyes wide before he runs off. Bucky lets out a sigh and follows him.

To everyone's surprise Natasha managed to lure Steve back to the tower just two hours after Bucky had initially found him. She sets him up with the hangover necessities and leaves him to sleep the alcohol off. Tomorrow would be a big day of fixing whatever mess Steve got into. But that never came. Surprising to everyone Steve did a damn good job and the only 'scandal' that came off this was him saying shit on national TV. Which quickly became a meme.

"I don't regret it. And to be fair this is all of your fault. You wanted to see me drunk and then you invited senator Ernst? You know I hate that guy." Steve said, his arms crossed, his face pouty like a toddler. "Steve you can't just... You ran off and fought people on the street!" Bucky threw his hands in the air. "You shoved the senator so his bodyguard would fight you!" He adds, hoping his friend would see how crazy this was. "I'd do it again." Steve mumbles and looks away from his friends. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are such a fucking menace.” He mutters to his best friend who proudly smiles, before addressing the group. “We can never let him get drunk again."

"I don't know, jelly shot Cap seems to be very effective. Maybe we should get him drunk before the next hydra base raid." Tony shrugs, clearly amused by the situation. "No!" Bucky groans. "No. No. No." His frustration is filling the room.

"We can be lucky that this is all he got into. Now let's stop whatever this is and get brunch." Clint suggests, sunglasses on his face, clearly hungover. Steve is very thankful for that. 'Yes Clint. Let's stop this, get brunch and I'll buy you 5 packs of premium coffee beans.' he thinks to himself. Just a few minutes longer and he'd spill what else he got into last night. And he doesn't need the jokes. He doesn't need the judgement. And he certainly doesn't want to share the cute tattoo artist with them -just yet.

[lovesick-joey]

Dragon Eyes

The aroma of Alfred's chamomile tea filled Bruce's nostrils, and he took a sip of it, feeling it warming him up from the inside. He felt calmer and at ease. It's been a while since he had felt that.

Placing the cup down, he watched Alfred cleaning the counters before turning his gaze towards Dick. His son sat with his legs crossed atop of his chair, his long hair neatly tied into a ponytail. His focus was on his phone, and with the way his brows were knitting, Bruce knew he had something on his mind.

"What are you looking at?" Bruce decided to ask.

Dick's head immediately snapped up to meet his eyes. He gave him a small smile. "Oh, typical," He says. "social media."

Bruce nodded reluctantly, sensing something amiss. He didn't question him further, though. He took another sip of his tea and picked up a newspaper.

Dick was still looking at him from the corner of his eye, and with sheer discomfort Bruce couldn't focus on reading anymore. He looked at him again, raising a brow.

The young man grinned sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sorry. Didn't mean to stare.." He spoke halfheartedly. "..It's just.."

The more that Bruce looked at him, the more he realized Dick wasn't making eye-contact with him—he was looking at his cheek.

He was looking at the bruise that is most likely visible on his pale face.

Did he really hit me that hard?

Bruce stiffens and raised his hand to graze the purple patch just below his right eye.

"..Is it really visible?"

"Yeah, kinda."

Bruce sighs, turning his head to the newspaper. "I'll try to cover it up with makeup. The public won't know any better."

Dick was still watching him, but Bruce didn't make a move to engage in conversation. He really didn't want this right now.

Nevertheless, Dick pursued. "Bruce," The way his voice sounded made Bruce's shoulders tense, even more than before. He heard Dick put his phone down on the table. "I want you to talk to me."

Bruce let out another sigh. Folding his newspaper, he looked over at Dick. His son wore a solemn expression.

When he didn't speak, Dick did.

"I heard you and Eugene.. arguing, last night." He murmured. Here we go, Bruce bit back a groan that threatened to escape his lips. "Like, when I passed by your room.." Dick continued, twiddling with his thumbs, "..I heard him say.. fuck, I don't know, B. I didn't know he had such a mouth. I mean, I did know, but.. not to that extent.."

Bruce and Eugene had come home from patrolling Gotham City. It wasn't a good patrol at all—They dealt with arrogant street thugs and gang members and Bruce had to prevent Eugene from beating all of them until they were standing at God's doorstep. Their patrol was mostly them bickering with each other, and with the way Eugene is, Bruce knew he would meet the man's cold treatment later on when they got home.

And cold treatment he got.

Bruce could still remember Eugene's yelling in the back of his head. It never goes away. Nothing about Eugene goes away. Bruce might even say he'd get a lobotomy just so his thoughts would stop being plagued by him, but that's just an overdramatic response.

The punch still stung. Still hurt.

"..We had a bad time during our patrol last night." Bruce eventually replied, pausing to take a sip of his tea. The beverage didn't taste comforting anymore. He cleared his throat after putting his cup down. "You know how Eugene is. He's not good at handling his emotions."

Dick frowned a bit. "He's what, forty-seven years old? You'd think he would get his shit together by now."

Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "..We don't know what he's been through, Dick. He clearly has some trauma that he probably garnered growing up.. it would make sense why he's like that."

"Trauma doesn't justify abuse.." He heard Dick mutter under his breath, but decides not to speak on it.

"I must say, Sir," Alfred chimed in while simultaneously wiping the dishes dry. "Mister Amsel better get his act straight. Unlike you, I cannot tolerate his recent behavior."

Bruce remembered that time when Alfred kicked Eugene out of the manor. The old butler had caught him belittling Bruce in the Batcave, and after the 'hard R' was dropped from his mouth, Alfred had enough. He made Eugene sleep in the yard for two nights. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn't too happy about it.

"He'll learn with time." Bruce said. "He still has room to grow."

He wasn't sure if he believed himself.

Alfred subtly shakes his head while Dick's face hardened.

Bruce looked back at the newspaper in his hands. The paper creased under his tight grip.

TGCS ¦ Good Job. ‣ Mr. Hermit I won't be posting more TGCS content on tumblr anymore and will instead be continuing on ao3.

[ineffectualdemon]

Wait no wait! The "Who did this to you!?" Trope but with Bingliu and it doesn't follow the script:

Luo Binghe grit his teeth before answering the door. As much as he hated any intrusion into their home he promised Shizun he'd play nicely with others.

Besides it was probably either the sect leader or Mobei's rat and he had reasons not to be rude to either.

He was not prepared for what he saw when he opened the door.

Liu Qingge leaned heavily against the doorframe, his left eye was swollen, a cut was on the cheek below and there was blood matted in his hair. As Binghe trailed his eyes down he saw how Liu Qingge was shaking as he tried to stay on his feet, blood soaking his robes from various wounds.

Binghe felt like a thick dark syrup was climbing up his throat and filling his chest.

"Who did this to you." He asked in a flat cold voice.

Liu Qingge, his good eye struggling to focus, tilted his head to see him better.

"Huh? I don't know, some demon assholes. They jumped me from behind. It was only like 20 or so. Look is Qingqiu here? I need a lift to Qian Cao." The admission cost him, his cheeks coloured slightly under the bruising.

"I'll kill them" Luo Binghe heard himself saying even as he reached for the remade Zheng Yang.

"What? No you won't- what are you doing!?"

But despite Liu Qingge's protests he already had him in a princess hold.

"Shizun is out at the moment teaching a class and I don't wish to disturb him. I'll take you myself." Luo Binghe explained as they lifted into the air.

(It had taken a long time for him to regain flying privileges.)

"Why can't I kill them?" He pressed on.

"Because I already killed them you idiot!" Liu Qingge shouted as he looked away from the other man. They both thought they knew he was only sitting obediently in Binghe's arms because Shen Qingqiu had also asked him to play nice.

But under the bruising the blush was brighter...

Binghe didn't like Liu Qingge's answer. It did nothing to quell the turmoil of thick black syrup that has filled him with deep desire to leave a claim or a mark on Liu Qingge or to murder violently anyone who touched him.

Trying to sort out that feeling kept him there as he waited for his rival's wounds to be patched up.

Once he was all fixed Luo Binghe couldn't help it anymore and walked over, standing over Liu Qingge on the bed and trying to show how strong and capable he was.

Liu Qingge just looked confused.

"You fight me." Is what Luo Binghe eventually said.

Liu Qingge looked puzzled.

"Yes..." Liu Qingge replied cautiously.

"You only fight me." Luo Binghe said more firmly.

"What the-" Liu Qingge started only to be immediately cut off.

Luo Binghe leaned forward until their faces were so close he could feel Liu Qingge's warm breath on his own lips.

"You don't need other demons." Luo Binghe attempted to explain, "you have me."

His words were cold and intense and the light from his heavenly demon mark shone bright for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a hard, hungry, kiss on man in front of him.

"Do NOT forget it!" He snarled.

He was halfway back home before the realisation of his actions nearly made him fall off his sword.

Meanwhile back on Qian Cao Liu Qingge stared blankly at the wall for 5 minutes before deciding this wasn't a reality he wanted to deal with right then and went to sleep.

[starshower1215]

Post-War Levihan Idea [No. 4]

TW: Suicidal thoughts, gaslighting (self-gaslighting)

Levi didn't look when Hange left. He wouldn't meet their eyes, he just touched his fist to their heart and gave them his forgiveness for leaving. He never quite said farewell, not to them, at least, nor did he see what it was that his squad was crying about as the plane took off. Eyes downcast, he said only this: "So long, Hange. Watch over us."

Levihan lenses on. Let's investigate, shall we? Levi doesn't know how Hange died. He never saw them fight, never saw them burn, he has no idea of their last words. In the depths of his wildest nightmares, Hange dies over and over and over. In thousands of ways. Crushed beneath the feet of the titans, knocked into the ocean where they drowned, shredded to bits by their hands, roasted and charred alive as they had been. Had they cried? Had they felt alone in that last flicker of life? Had they smiled, or had they screamed? What had his squad seen, for them to be reacting like that? Levi jolts awake every morning, brittle and half-crumbling beneath the weight of the responses that his mind provides.

But then again, Levi has no clue how Hange died. He didn't see their wounds, didn't watch the light flicker from their eyes. He didn't see the pain. Their last moments in his mind? Unconfirmed. And how does Captain Levi Ackerman document soldiers who are unconfirmed to be alive or dead?

Missing in action.

So Levi is wheelchair-bound, broken, exhausted, falling apart, and alone save for this single soul who went missing. Well, what was it again that everyone kept telling him? Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie. Even Onyankapon, now. Oh, yes: "You've done enough to help us, Captain. Rest now, and live for yourself."

So he does. And he chooses to spend his life searching for his lost friend, his Hange.

In the initial idea, Levi was hallucinating once again (this account has been over his hallucinations, but it's not done yet). He's sad and depressed and has nothing to live for anymore, so his Monkey Brain has to design something to keep him going.

He lays in bed some nights, unable to fall asleep, even after Falco came by and made him tea. Even after Onyankapon embarrassed them both by trying to set him to sleep with a story. Even after Gabi sang, albeit terribly, to try to soothe him. He just pretends at that point, afraid to be a burden, until they go away and his eyes pop right back open. The thoughts run rampant, then, when his mind conjures up the ghosts of his loved ones, their bloodied and bruises corpses staring back with empty eyes.

"Wouldn't it be better if I just died, right here? Nobody would have to come by anymore, or see me in this pathetic state, pushing myself in a wheelchair because I can't stand for even a half hour. I wouldn't have to wake up anymore, go to physical therapy, try to feel happy when there's nothing for me to be happy about. We made it to the end, didn't we? Why can't I rest?"

"Why would you rest?" He sees for the first time that Hange isn't there. The voice is a hush in his ear, but still it overtakes the volume of his thoughts. "Hange is missing from you. Where is Hange, Levi?"

He stiffens. "Hange is gone."

"Gone where?"

"Gone..." Levi is baffled into a scowl. He really, really doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't want to cry himself to sleep. "Just gone. Shut up and let me sleep."

But he swears he hears their voice, low and deep in the air. "I haven't been gone that long, clean freak. Don't you remember me?"

Levi jolts, wide awake.

Where is it coming from? The curtains billow, as though disturbed by the sky's cold breath, yet he feels no breeze. Hange's voice comes again. "What have I been trying to teach you this whole time?"

Lightning flashes outside his balcony, then the night is invading. Pressing into his bedroom from every crack in the walls, from the balcony, the slit beneath the door, rushing in like water. It's a typhoon of indigo, speckled with light, and it twists and whirls until it's sunken into the shapes and curves of Hange's body.

He's been here before. "The paths," Levi and Hange both say.

Hange grins. "I didn't know how else to find you."

"But you found me." Levi blinks several times, shakes his head like a dog, but they're there. Hidden in a cloak of night, but they're there. He feels his eyes welling up and he swipes at them quickly. He wants to see.

"I don't think I can stay for long." Their voice reverbrates in the cavern of the bedroom. "But we'll see each other again, won't we? You'll come find me. You always do."

"That's not possible. You're gone."

Hange's gaze softens. "I'm right here, Levi."

A tear slips down his cheek. He can't believe they're making him say it out loud, and he hates how helpless it makes him sound. How small he feels when it's out in the open. "You're gone."

Hange regards him, quiet for once. "You don't believe that. I refuse to believe that I didn't rub off on you. You have more hope than that, Levi. Even in this hopeless world." Their fingers brush his, and he's shocked by the flush of warmth their touch brings. "I know it. I came all this way to find you, didn't I?

"The least you could do is find me, too."

Levi jolts, wide awake.

He stares at his ceiling in a cold sweat. He feels as though he's being torn in two directions. On one hand, Hange was gone. They had to be gone. He'd gone through all this pain, knowing they were gone. To delve back into the past was to undo all he'd fought for since they'd left.

But what if they weren't gone? What if they really were out there, broken bodied and half-alive, but alive? It was difficult to think about either way, but could there be a possibility?

Levi recalls their voice, their touch, their reminder. He turns over his thoughts in his mind one last time, then pulls himself out of bed. He can't stay for long, after all.

Hange is waiting.

-----

At some point, I transitioned into fictional writing. Hopefully that made sense. Anyway:

So, deep down, he knows himself well enough to trick himself. He's always been a hero. He can get up if it means he'll be someone's hero, because Captain Levi is Captain Levi, and who is Levi, if not the person who feeds others when he's still hungry himself?

And to be Hange's hero, when they've saved him so much? When they came to him, warm as a hearth and inviting as a home, like no one ever had before? It isn't even up for discussion. He'll do it.

After all, what did he dedicate his heart to?

End Note: I think in some languages, the verb "to miss" is kind of translated directly like "You are missing from me." The source was likely a delusion, but that in mind, this may just be Levi missing Hange to a big, big extent.

[cherryjuicegf]

He sees her last. After the blood and the gloom and the despair that plagued his sight, after the death and the wails and the pleas that teared at his chest, he sees her last.

Chaos, he thinks, has never looked more serene.

In another place, at another time, it would be beautiful.

Now Yennefer meets his eyes from across the hall and a sudden jolt shakes her whole and she runs, gods, she runs to him with such helplessness and relief that he knows he will welcome the most bruising hug, if it means it will keep her afloat. There is a weeping beauty in sadness, but not for her eyes. Never for her eyes.

As she buries her head in his shoulder, he feels her heart digging a hole in his chest. He holds her tight.

"Thank the gods," she whispers, as though to herself, "thank the gods you're alive."

In another place, at another time, he would make a joke, perhaps about the feeling not being mutual, just to steal a smile and a banter from her lips.

But he has no heart for that now. Not even for that.

He only has a chain clenched tight around his heart and gutting his voice in shame every time he opens his mouth to speak. "Yennefer, I–"

At once, she looks at him. "No words." As though she knows what he would say, as though she knows all he hasn't done, and mourns him anyway. She shakes her head, eyes huge and dark and pleading. "You can't stay here, it's dangerous. You have to go. You have to find Geralt."

"Yennefer, Yen– I know." His fingers dig into her arms and he can't bear to loosen his hold, he can't bear to let her go. Not yet. He smiles, soft. Leans to search for her eyes, for just a moment of peace in their turbulent current. "I just wanted to see my darling witch."

Yennefer stares at him for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, she huffs a laugh. Her expression softens, almost crumbles.

He feels her hands shaking where she holds him and the corners of her lips tremble as though with all the unspoken screams of the sea trapped into a single shell, wailing and weeping and waiting to be heard. He only wishes he had time to put her heart to his ear.

Her voice is quivering as she speaks. "I don't know where Ciri is," she says and it sounds like the complaint of a mother and a child crushed into one, like the world's cruelest crime, the earth's deepest regret, choked in swallowed tears. "I don't know where she is, I don't–"

She doesn't let her face break, as if she knows that when the bottle cracks, there will be no end or beginning, as if she knows he will only have to stay there, and hold her through it. And he cannot stay here between death's teeth.

She can't afford this too.

But he knows terror when he sees it in her eyes, for it is not frequent, and floods them with a different kind of darkness. It breaks his heart.

She looks at him for a moment deeply, in thought. Then she lets out a sharp breath. Quiet, exhausted. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm losing everything all over again. And then," she nods at him from tip to toe and laughs again, as though she finds it absurd, "here you are. Here you always are."

Maybe it sounds painful, because she winces.

Maybe she cannot bear looking at him, maybe in hope it will hurt less if she loses him. But Jaskier doesn't abandon her eyes, only stays there, because their violet melts just like then, just like that other time she was all bereft and scared and he got to see it, and knew. Yet again, a familiar kind of despair.

But, gods. What else could one make out of shared pain, except for love?

A tear flows down her cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before it shatters. He holds her face. "Hey. You are not in this fight alone." He swallows, voice thick, hand firm as though to caress the love on her skin and right into her. "Not anymore."

Oh, she has been alone for so long. So long that her first instinct is to disbelieve him, doubt him, squint. But it is only for a moment.

Because his thumb is still stroking her cheek clean of stray tears and her brows can only twitch in desperate acceptance as she slowly covers his hand with hers and leans into his touch, closes her eyes. Presses on, as though to memorize the shape of his palm when it's missing, as though asking of him to remember her shape.

Jaskier can't hear her, but feels her own voice in his head as he prays they don't become no more than a memory.

"We'll meet again." She looks at him again and now her voice is steadier.

It makes him smile. He will miss this. Offering a hand for her to lean into every now and then. Watching as she rises again, indelible.

A chuckle, as the curtain threatens to rise. "Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides," he speaks softer now, like a lullaby, like a confession, "I could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg."

A promise.

And Yennefer smiles, through the tears, and shakes her head. How strange, how comforting. To fight so hard for a purpose, and to know the purpose is willing, at last, to fight back for you.

With a deep sigh, she raises her head. And there she is again. Solid, seething, like a burning hill. "Don't leave Geralt alone."

"You know I won't." Then, pleading. "Be strong."

He knows she will be. It's mostly to remind himself.

Slowly, their hands drop away, and he hopes the warmth of her touch lingers on his hand for a while.

"Be brave," she replies, but she knows too. "I won't be there to save you this time." Jaskier huffs, mostly to hold back tears. "Well, then," she continues, and her voice is suddenly strained in a half-laugh, half-sob, an attempt perhaps, to seal the promise back. "Goodbye. Good luck–"

Only, she can't.

Her voice dies in her throat, and she presses her lips together, in refusal, in grief. Her eyes are wet again.

Jaskier lets out a silent gasp and shakes his head, pulling her close one last time, tighter than before. This is too much. He can't ask for too much. So he only lets her steal some breaths from his chest before he lets her go, and places a kiss on her head.

He feels her holding her breath, or his, as she pulls back and silently looks at him one last time.

And then, like a cord snapping in two, she turns around and walks outside the room. She doesn't look back.

And Jaskier watches numb. Her form disappears behind the walls and he stands wrecked, a sob threatening to rip his throat apart.

Broken, trembling, he smiles at her remaining memory, and decides to seal her promise himself. "Good riddance."

His voice echoes back to him in the empty hall.

[pavlovianfuckery]

literally just a blowjob so calm down

MASTERLIST

Linky for those more AO3-ly inclined:https://archiveofourown.org/works/41618340

at this point this is OLD but i'm going to post on here as well from now on i think? and probably try to fix the fucky formatting while i'm at it if i can.

this took way too long and i’m still not happy but fuck it, have 1200 words of garbage about giving dream head, bone apple tea you gremlins

Dreams have always been a place of comfort and escape, the more dissatisfied you were, the more vivid they would get. Settling in for another night of restless slumber, it doesn't take long for the dream to turn a bit steamy, as they often do. Your imaginary lovers are usually faceless and you never remember much in the morning. At least it's better than nothing, or the unsatisfying encounters you've previously had, at any rate. This time is different though. Before you're ready to wake up, the dream simply dissolves around you, leaving you confused and frustrated in the non-descript room.

"You mortals really are simple creatures." The smooth voice startles you but it wouldn't be the first time a dream changed on you by its own volition, so you don't really question the presence of the man leaning against the wall behind you, a haughty look on his face.  "Though it is not often I encounter dreams of such...singular focus."

Being shamed by your own dream, that's new. But then so is he. He seems sharper somehow, more real. His dark clothes makes him stand out like an inkblot against the wall, though the voluminous coat does little to disguise the slim lines of his body. 

"Perhaps we might be of use to one another." Though his voice betrays no emotion, it's pretty clear what he's implying. His gaze has an almost hypnotic quality to it, reeling you in like a fish on a line until you're standing in front of him. He's even more beautiful up close and you can't help but stare, which doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest. "Serve me, and I will grant you release."

Or not so much implying, then. But why not go along? Dreams have never hurt you before, after all. The crude suggestion sounds more appealing from his pretty mouth than it has any right to, tempting you.  Hands itching to touch you hesitate, unsure how to proceed. Before you can decide on a course of action, his lips are on yours. They're softer than you expected. It's brief, barely more than a brush, testing the waters.

"If this is not what you want, you should leave now." The next time he kisses you it's with more urgency, a soft grip on your jaw and you respond in kind. Daring to touch him now, you sneak your hands under the hem of his shirt, marveling at the softness of his skin. Deepening the kiss as you explore a bit more, skimming your hands over the contours of his ribs makes him almost melt into your touch, breath speeding up ever so slightly. From one blink of the eye to the next, there are no clothes separating you anymore. As you start questioning how that happened he puts two of his fingers in your mouth, pressing your tongue down, making you drool.

"Hush now, you do not need to speak." Lightheaded already, his hand at your shoulder makes your knees fold all too willingly, not bothering to deny that you need this. You both do. Kneeling between his legs, his pale skin is just begging to be bruised. The thought of marking him with your teeth makes your mind reel with possibilities. You nuzzle his thigh, teeth and tongue, the smoothness of his cock heavy against your cheek as you pull his scent deep into your lungs. He only humours you for a few moments before urging you closer, his fingers cradling the back of your skull. "Go on, surely you do not mean to keep me waiting?"

Betrayed by the breathy edge to his voice, the need to be touched all but bleed from his words as his facade starts to crack. Before guiding him into your mouth you drag your tongue over his length, making him gasp as you taste him before sliding home. Every suck and swipe of the tongue is almost reverent. "Look at me." You watch him watching you, his eyes dark and lips parted. He's almost swaying on his feet, breath hitching. Your knees hurt, but you try to concentrate on the feel of his cock in your mouth, you want to be good. Every groan and murmur of appreciation spurs you on, you're doing something right, he likes. His grip on your shoulder is nearly bruising as he pushes you away for a moment, chest heaving.

"I will not be able to last," he has to force the words out, his body tense like the bow of a violin. "I do not wish to disappoint you." Any assurances you might have given die in your throat as he guides you onto the floor before finally straddling your chest, pinning you down. You start to protest, but he simply hushes you again.

"Grant me this much," he murmurs as he leans back, sinking his fingers inside you, thumb pressed to your clit. "I promise I will not leave you wanting."

Thighs trembling and slick, you can feel your juices sliding down and out of you as he works you, the practiced movements of his fingers making it feel like he has touched you hundreds of times before, knowing every spot to drive you wild.

  "Open nice and wide for me." His voice is husky, almost fraying at the edges, you can tell he's getting close and all you want is to obey. He makes it so easy, tracing your lips with his tip, all but begging to be devoured, worshipped.  It feels almost like a competition, to see who will give in first. Torn between wanting to come with him in your mouth and not wanting to lose, you redouble your efforts. Even as he thrusts into your mouth, nearly gagging you, he never stops picking you apart with his fingers, driving you ever closer to the edge.  In the end you're the one to break first, clamping down around his fingers like a vice, the waves of pleasure making you falter as you moan around his cock.

  "Yes, come for me, let me feel you." He draws your orgasm out with experienced ease, dragging it out until you nearly try to buck him off of you, his touch relentless. Feeling him swell in your mouth, a few more swirls of the tongue is all it takes to bring him off, making him pulse as he fills your mouth. He surprises you by pulling out, some of his come hitting your chin. As he milks his cock and covers your neck and breasts in it, the sound he makes is close to a whimper.  Finally spent he rolls off of you, settling in pressed close to you, one leg slung over yours, seeking contact. Still out of breath he drags his fingers lazily through the puddles cooling on your skin, painting you with it. Admiring his handiwork through half lidded eyes as he marks you.

"You absolutely stunning creature," he murmurs, capturing your mouth with his in a sloppy kiss. It's a languid, boneless thing and he sighs contentedly against your lips. "Would you see me again, some other night perhaps?" The look he gives you through dark lashes is almost coy, his cheeks softly dusted with colour. "I should like to make my shameful performance up to you, if you would let me."

You would. Waking up you feel more relaxed than you recall feeling in a long time. And as you go about your day, you can't help looking forward to bed time just a little bit more than usual.