#The contact it's an anchor he needs it to stop the shaking of his hands

[existingingrey]

[oceantornadoo]

ch8 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: dubcon kissing (somnophilia), more pet play dirty talk, multiple holes are used, smut and angst in the same chap bc why not.

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Thankfully, your new boyfriend does not give in to the urge to punch your brother.

“Johnny!” You move out from behind John, in no way afraid of your brother. “You can’t just hit him!” You yell. Johnny’s still as red as a tomato, huffing from the punch he threw. You can tell the captivity took its toll on him, because you’ve never seen him winded from just one punch. Instinct takes over, you and Simon catching Johnny before he stumbles. The doctor from earlier rushes over, telling her radio that they need a wheelchair, stat. The anger slowly drains from Johnny’s face, replaced with a world-weary look. He seems ten years older, a jarring thought since you’re only three minutes apart.

“Johnny, let’s talk about it later, ok?” The wheelchair arrives and you help him into it, Simon fighting off the doctor who’s arguing he needs one too. You try to grab Johnny’s hand but he snatches it back before you can. It’s like a shot to the heart. He avoids eye contact as the doctor wheels him away. Did you just lose your twin?

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” John scoops you up from behind, turning you so you’re against his chest. It’s like a switch has been flipped as the tears flow. You messed up, shouldn’t have let John kiss you in front of your brother. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You wanted to give Johnny time to adjust, time to gain his strength back, before slowly broaching the topic in a controlled manner. You did not want a punch to be thrown at 5 am. It was simply too much to handle. John’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck, anchoring you to the moment. He’s so kind, even though he was just punched, and the thought makes you cry harder. 

-

John’s jaw aches, but not as much as his heart does. It’s hard to handle his sweetheart sobbing in his arms, especially since he hasn’t seen her in weeks. The kiss was not his best move, but he blames it on the early hour and lack of sleep. The mission was absolutely grueling, the kidnappers making themselves almost impossible to track. “Almost” because, well, he did get this job for a reason. But now his team is fucked and his new girlfriend has a broken heart he can’t fix. He couldn’t even blame Johnny because if it was his sister, he would have done the same thing.

Kyle went with the doctor, so now it’s just him and his girl on a godforsaken roof on a dreary London morning. He’s been rubbing circles on her back for a while now and can feel the tears slowly stopping, her breathing becoming even. “Feel better?” She shakes her head ‘no’ and he can’t help but laugh. 

“How’s your face?” She asks, pulling back out of his grasp to inspect it. Her eyes are puffy and there’s a bit of snot on her nose. She’s beautiful. “‘S ok. Not the first time I’ve been punched.” Soft fingers turn his jaw this way and that. She sucks in a breath as she inspects the damage. “You’re gonna bruise, John.” The bruise won’t show through his beard so he shrugs, then starts herding her into the elevator. He desperately wants to shower and tuck her under the covers, then maybe eat her out later if his jaw lets him. Hopefully an orgasm would make her a little less sad. 

Thankfully, John gets his way. He’s not a messy man, his cleanliness only rivaling Garrick’s, but his room is suspiciously much cleaner than how he left it. The floors are practically sparkling. When he asks, his pet mimes a zipper, throwing the key away. John picks her up, ignoring the creak of his joints from sleeping on floors for the past week, and throws her on the bed. “Stay.” She nods, eyes big and wet, and it’s a herculean effort to drag himself away. It’s the quickest shower of his life, a little toothbrushing, and he’s finally where he belongs. With her.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He tugs her on top of him so they’re chest to chest, her cunt on his lower belly. She’s taken off her sweatshirt and shorts, so it’s just two thin layers of fabric that separate them. “I missed you too. You sure you don’t want ice or something? I’m practically best friends with the nurses now, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He rolls them over so he’s between her tits, right at home. “‘M fine. Go t’ sleep.” She finally gets the memo and hums contentedly, fingers scratching at John’s scalp like he’s her cat. He loves it.

-

You wake up to the feeling of something scratching you. Your cat is so annoying.

“Bubbles…stop…” The feeling does stop, but as the fog slowly clears from your brain, you realize your cat is nowhere to be found. John’s beard is the culprit, wet with…spit? He’s pulled your shirt up and from the look of it, has been laving at your tits for a while now. “You mistake me for the cat, sweetheart?” You bite back a smile, shaking your head. “Was dreaming. Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Now that you’re awake, John can start giving you the full treatment. He sucks on one nipple, a callused hand squeezes it like he’s trying to get milk out. Your hips move of their own according, bucking against his hairy chest. The pain feels delicious as he bites and sucks. Your hand threads through his hair, grasping on strands for something to hold. He switches to your other nipple but keeps his hand on your tit, pinching one while sucking another. He’s so loud about it, wet and messy in a way that makes you want to hide your face. Your hips fight gravity as they move, the hair on his chest providing friction as you move up and down. You could come like this.

“John.” He gets the memo, his unoccupied hand gripping your waist and helping you grind against him. “Gonna come, baby?” It’s like a spark to your core, the coil inside you growing exponentially with every grind. He’s leaving marks that might bruise, every bite lighting your nerves on fire. Your cunt is sopping, legs straining with the effort of maintaining your grind. Removing his mouth, he pinches both of your nipples at the same time, the effect of it bringing your right to the edge. 

“Ya like that? Cunny’s all messy, baby.” You can only nod at his words. It’s desperation, your shirt hiked up to your chin, tits shiny with spit, cunt seeping. His beard is soaked, the hair on his chest matting with your slick. Both hands move your hips against his belly and he bites a nipple at the same time, the action sending you over the edge with a whine. Your empty cunt flutters against him, clit puffy from the friction of his hair. “Fuck, John.” He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, eating your face as you come down from the orgasm. 

John drops your hips, letting your cunt envelop his cock, still in his boxers. You whine at the pressure, a pitiful noise. “Lemme eat then come on you, yeah?” You nod vigorously and he chuckles at the sight. 

He licks you from ass to clit, smiling when you jump at the overstimulation. Your body is on the edge of orgasm, an almost continuation of the first. John eats sloppily, tounging the bud of your clit then flattening his tongue over the whole of it. He nearly drags you off the bed so he can be on his knees on the floor, tugging out his cock with one hand while he holds you steady with the other. That hand holding you steady grips the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to somewhere else. He prods at it, looking at you for confirmation. You nod tentatively and he slides a bit of his thumb in, giving your clit a good suck at the same time. There’s so much pressure and despite being empty you feel full, like you’re about to explode. John won’t shut up, speaking in between occupying his mouth.

“Y’r so trusting, pet.”

“Bet you were lonely without me.”

“Jus’ one more, yeah? Then I’ll let you sleep.”

You nod at the last one, feeling on edge. He slides his thumb in to the first knuckle, keeping the same pressure on your clit, and you lose it, walls spasming at his touch. Your second orgasm washes over you, your body flopping against the bed as the coil releases. John crouches up with his thumb still in you. His cock is hard and glistening in his hand, the sheen of precum all over it. You tug your shirt up from where it’s fallen and he smirks, his beard making it more pronounced. 

“That’s a good girl. Good pet f’ me.” His cum is thick and creamy, landing on your sore tits as his thumb slips out, the pressure finally releasing. “Jesus, John.” You're soaked in sweat and cum and slick, courtesy of the man in front of you. He leaves and quickly comes back with a warm washcloth, wiping down your body, then his own. “We can shower later.” You nod, making space for him in the bed. You’re both sweating anyways, so he tugs off the comforter so it’s just you and the fitted sheet. 

“You did so good.” He murmurs as you tuck yourself into him. “I like this boyfriend treatment.” You whisper back. He kisses your forehead softly. “Good, ‘cause yer stuck with me.” You kiss his pec, then snuggle in for a few more hours. John holds you until you’re asleep, then quietly slips out and takes a quick shower. The sight of you in his bed almost makes him stay, but there’s someone he needs to talk to.

-

“Ye here to discharge me?” Soap’s all bravado, but it’s hard to sound intimidating in a hospital gown. John lets him have it, picking his way through the room to sit in the chair near Soap’s bed. “‘m not apologizin’.” Soap mutters. John huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t ‘pect you to, Soap. Glad you’re doin’ better.” 

Severe dehydration. Not starved, but close to it. Bruising on wrists and ankles, likely from cuffs. One bruised rib. That’s what the doctor said before he walked in. Simon got the same treatment and he’s resting in the room over, Kyle keeping him company. The outcome is better than he expected, to be honest. Most captors would love to give Soap a beating for every quip, but John suspects being near Simon calmed him down. Another thing he has to thank the Lieutenant for.

The room is silent. There’s only one thing to be said.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me.” Soap doesn’t answer, focusing his gaze on the door. “We met the night ‘fore she came to base. Would’ve seen her again no matter what. Yer sister or not.” Soap blinks and John takes that as a sign to go ahead.

“I know y’ve got a special connection. ‘M not here to break it. ‘M askin’ for the chance t’ love her too.” John laughs to himself. “Well, not really askin’, Johnny. But you an��� I have got a life bond too and I’m tryin’ to respect it.” It’s the first time John’s ever called him Johnny. Obviously, being around his girl is starting to affect him.

“Ye love her?” Johnny’s voice is gravelly, not at its usual level of honey-coated confidence. “I do.” Johnny gives a nod of approval, a minuscule dip of his head. “Christ, ah tried hookin’ her up with Gaz.” His captain frowns. “So Kyle’s good ‘nough but not me?” Finally, Johnny locks eyes with him. “Gaz wouldn’t break ‘er heart. Ye would.” John gives him a sour smile. “She rejected me right before I left to find you, actually. She’s been sayin’ we couldn’t date for months an’ I’ve had a ring in my drawer the whole time.”

Johnny groans. He tries to cover his eyes but he’s still hooked up to the IV. “Can’t believe you’ll be my brother-in-law, Cap. Yer so old.” John scoffs. “Could hook Gaz up with y’r cousin an’ we’ll all be related.” That’s what breaks the ice. Both of the men laugh and John reaches over to squeeze Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s the only punch I’ll ever let you have, Soap. Keep that in mind next time you have a twin squabble.”

Johnny’s brows furrow at the mention of his twin. “I need t’ talk to the lass.” John squeezes his shoulder one more time, then stands up. “I’ll find ‘er for you.”

It’ll be the most important conversation of their lives.

-

We got john pov! I hope the switches between John and Johnny weren’t too confusing lol.

Just one chapter left…thank u guys for all the kind comments it means the most <3

-

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[goldfades]

Post loss joe fic?

here's a quick blurb for y'all because i've been busy!

The house is quiet, almost unnervingly so. The soft hum of the heater fills the silence, a faint backdrop to the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath your feet. You glance at the clock on the wall—nearly midnight. Joe should’ve been home by now.

You try to keep busy, pacing between the kitchen and the living room, straightening things that don’t need straightening, checking your phone for the fiftieth time. It’s not like him to stay out this late after a game, win or lose. Usually, he comes straight home, his mood either buzzing with energy or subdued and thoughtful. But tonight, after that crushing loss, he hadn’t even texted to say he’d be late.

When the sound of the door unlocking finally breaks the silence, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Joe steps inside, his movements slow and deliberate, as though the weight of the game is still dragging him down. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the back of the couch, his usual precision and neatness abandoned.

“Hey,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him. He glances up at you, and the look in his eyes stops you in your tracks. There’s exhaustion there, sure, but more than that—disappointment, frustration, and something heavier, something unspoken.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken since the post-game interviews. He doesn’t head for the couch this time, though. Instead, he crosses the room in just a few long strides, and before you can say another word, his arms are around you.

The embrace is tight—almost crushing—but you don’t mind. His body is warm and solid against yours, the faint scent of sweat and cold air clinging to him from the night. He doesn’t say anything as he holds you, his chin resting against your shoulder, the weight of him leaning into you like he needs you to keep him grounded. You can feel the tension in his frame, the way his muscles stay taut as though he’s still bracing for impact, even now.

For a few seconds, the world seems to stand still. There’s no sound except the quiet rhythm of his breathing, uneven but slowly calming, and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. His hands press against your back, one sliding up to curl around the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair as if to anchor himself to you. He says nothing, but the way he clings to you speaks louder than words—he’s hurting, and he’s letting himself lean on you in a way he rarely does.

You wrap your arms around him in return, one hand settling between his shoulder blades while the other strokes the back of his neck, your touch as soothing as you can make it. “I’ve got you,” you murmur softly, and you mean it, every word.

Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands staying on your waist, fingers pressing into your sides like he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go. His face is close to yours now, his blue eyes heavy with exhaustion and something deeper—frustration, disappointment, maybe even a little self-doubt.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to bring this home.”

Your brows knit together, and you shake your head gently, your hands coming up to frame his face. “Joe, stop. You don’t have to apologize for being upset. I’m here, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

He exhales deeply, the sound heavy and full of unspoken weight, before nodding almost imperceptibly. His gaze falls to your lips for a fleeting second before he looks away, closing his eyes and letting his forehead rest against yours. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, warm and steady now, and it’s like he’s drawing strength from the contact, the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“I just… I hate this,” he admits after a beat, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate losing, I hate feeling like I’m letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you.” His last word is barely audible, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

“You could never let me down,” you say firmly, your hands sliding to his shoulders, gripping them with just enough pressure to get him to open his eyes and look at you. “You give everything you have out there, Joe. No one can ask for more than that.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but the way his jaw tenses and his eyes search yours tells you he’s taking your words to heart, even if he’s not quite ready to believe them. Finally, he nods again, his hands slipping down to take yours, holding them tightly between you.

“I just—” He pauses, shaking his head as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to shake it off tonight. Feels like it’s all just sitting on my chest.”

“Then let’s not shake it off,” you suggest gently, squeezing his hands. “Let’s just sit with it for a bit. You don’t have to fix everything right now.”

Joe lets out a soft, almost defeated laugh, his lips quirking up into a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You shrug, your own lips lifting into a small smile as you reach up to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just saying the truth. You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Joe. You’re allowed to feel this.”

For the first time since he walked through the door, something in his expression softens. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingers just a little too long, his lips warm against your skin. When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours again, and there’s a flicker of something lighter there—relief, maybe, or gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice steady now, and you can tell he means it.

You don’t say anything, just nod and take his hand, leading him toward the couch. Tonight might not erase the weight he’s carrying, but at least he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

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

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

[creamhoodie]

You Belong To Me

AN: Short Gojo drabble, he fails at being friends with benefits with you. tags: nsfw, fwb, afab reader, satoru gojo x reader

“What are you doing here with him?” a voice you’d recognize anywhere asks. His fingers run down your bare skin, the open back of your dress giving him easy access. 

You look up at him, his eyes blind folded but you know him well enough to recognize when he seems irritable by the rigid line his mouth formed. 

“I’m on a date, what does it look like, Gojo?” you reply, taking a sip of your shot that the bartender placed in front of you. 

Strobe lights and techno music filled the nightclub making him look more striking as the lights hit his white hair.

“Since when are we back to last name basis?” Satoru chuckles. 

His fingers still grace your back, the brief contact is enough to be electrifying, he knows just as much, seeming almost smug about the effect he has on you. 

“Since you interrogate me about my personal life,” you reply.

You look around, your date had wandered off to the restroom a few minutes ago and should be back soon. 

“Am I not part of your personal life? As I remember you and I were close just a few nights ago,” he teases. 

Your mind flashes back to being tangled in his sheets, him on top of you and you moaning his name as he-

“I remember,” you say, stopping your thoughts in their tracks,”but I also remember the terms of our.. ‘relationship.’”

He laughs. 

“You’re mad at me?” He asks. He bends down so he’s right at your earlobe, nibbling lightly. All the while his fingers stay drawing figures into your skin. 

“I am not mad,” you reply.

A lie. 

Oh yes you knew the terms of your relationship with him well. You had a friends with benefits arrangement with him. He had told you from the beginning ‘I don’t do relationships.’ 

That did nothing to dwindle the chemistry between the two of you and so several nights of the week you’d stay over at his place. You had reminded yourself, just because he laid kisses down your neck,breathed in your scent, and held onto you as if you were the anchor holding him to this Earth it didn’t mean he loved you. 

So it shouldn’t have come as a shock when you saw another woman’s perfume and hygiene items at his place one evening.

“You know what I think,” he places a kiss on your shoulder that sends shivers down your spine,”I think you’re a liar.”

A throat clears making you jump. 

Your date is back. 

He’s the type of man no one wants to see a woman they're involved with accompanied by. He’s muscular with dark cropped hair. You barely knew him, he had only propositioned you by contacting you through your socials.

“Oh Gojo this is my date,” you say.

Satoru takes his time straightening up, his lips remaining on your shoulder as if he’s almost daring your date to say something about it. He doesn’t.

At last Satoru straightens up and outstretches a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. 

Your date goes to shake it but he can’t seem to reach, almost as if there’s a barrier preventing him from touching Satoru. 

“Can you give us a moment alone?” you ask your date. 

He seems flushed from the handshake mishap and obliges.

When he’s out of earshot you turn to Satoru.

“That was mean of you, toying with him like that,” you say. 

Satoru tsks. 

“You’re seriously not gonna go home with that guy right?” he asks tugging at a strand of your hair. 

“And if I do, what business is it of yours?” you counter.

You guzzle the full shot glass now, it burns down your throat. 

“It is my business, because I care about you. Trust me I’m familiar with guys like him and they are no good,” he says. 

“And you’re better?” 

He laughs.

“In more ways than you can imagine.” 

You ask the bartender for another shot but Satoru waves him off.

“Hey-“ 

“You don’t need any more of that. You’re gonna wind up getting drunk,” he says. 

You face him fully now as your annoyance with him is at a peak. You don’t have to see his eyes to know he’s staring at your cleavage.

“Come home with me,” he says, his voice full of heat and lust. 

“I’m on a date,” you remind him. 

He scoffs.

“The nightclub? Some date. He only wants to fuck you.”

“And you don’t? What are you doing here anyways?” Perhaps he was also here with someone, you wouldn’t put it pass him. Maybe he was here with the mysterious woman whose products were back at his place.

“I’m here because you’re here, and you belong to me.”

____

“Mmm, just like that baby,” he whispers, his fingers spread your folds. He relishes your arousal.

His blind fold, long removed, serves as a sort of handcuff for you, tying your hands above your head on his bed frame. 

“Toru.. untie me,” you plead. You long to touch him, his white hair especially which was always so sinfully soft. 

“Not yet. You were a bad girl going out like that,” he says stern.

His fingers push upwards, just enough to soak themselves inside of you. When he retracts them, he brings them up to your lips with the simple demand of “suck.” 

You do, opening your mouth to taste yourself on his thick fingers. He watches, his blue eyes total flames full of lust. 

He pushes his fingers deeper, just down your throat enough to make you gag. He can be so mean when he’s jealous as you’re finding out. 

Pulling back his fingers, he begins to undo his belt.

“Toru my arms hurt,” you beg. 

“And you didn’t think it hurt for me to see you with someone else like that?” he asks, unyielding. 

His pants and boxers have been removed for his big cock to be plopping out, it’s firm already, the tip angry and reddened. 

He shoves it against your lips.

“Open up,” he pants. 

Your lips open around his shaft and you begin to suck him off. His hands go to your head, hands on each side to stabilize you and force you to take him. He helps you, bobbing your head up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat. It burns even more than the shot did and tears begin to stream from your eyes.

“You’re so dumb, you’re so dumb baby were you going to let him fuck you? You don’t need anyone else, you have me.” 

You wanted to remind him that he’s the one who said he doesn’t do relationships, he’s the one who had told you not to expect exclusivity. But he was full of himself; his statement might have been only applicable for himself, and you were full of him, unable to speak, unable to do anything else but moan in muffles as his cock rammed your throat. 

You feel him finish, the saltiness of his fluid running down your throat. He pulls out of your mouth, letting you swallow and recollect yourself. 

“Toru, my arms,” you pant, catching your breath. 

He goes to untie you, and as your hands slip free you reach for him but there’s an invisible barrier..

“Turn it off Satoru, that's not fair!” you cry out. 

“Why should I? You have your little boyfriend to touch don’t you?” he teases. 

He’s enjoying this, making you grovel.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He sent me a DM and asked if I wanted to meet up,” you explain. 

He lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side.

“How romantic,” he sneers. 

“Satoru please. I’m sorry just turn it off,” you beg. You watch as he makes matters worse by removing his shirt, his muscles exposed. He knows that you loved touching them, loved running your hands over his abs and especially his muscled back whilst he was inside you. 

“I’ll turn it off when you answer why you went out with him,” he says. 

You’re frustrated both emotionally and sexually. 

“Because you said we’re not exclusive. You said you don’t do relationships,” you remind him. 

He huffs.

“Never bothered you before,” he says. 

“Well I just think it’s hypocritical that you get to have women over leaving their belongings but god forbid I go out on a date.”

His eyes widen in understanding at your words, followed by a playful twinkle. 

The barrier comes down and he comes up to you, kissing your lips passionately. Your hands run through his hair and he moans. His soft tongue connects with yours and you feel like he may devour you, may swallow you whole. 

Suddenly, he repositions you so you’re laying on your stomach and he pins your hands behind your back all in one swift motion.

He leans down so he can speak right into your ear.

“I know what I said. But you’re mine. You belong to me. What I do or don’t do doesn’t change that. You’ll always be mine when I want you.” 

Then you hear the ripping of your dress as he discards it and your panties off you completely. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, a fact he had noticed all too well when he had been staring at your cleavage in the club. 

You moan as you feel his length drag down your back like a wand all the way down until it was pressed between your wet folds. 

“F-fuck..so fucking tight,” he groans as he shoves his way in from the back. “This is my pussy. All mine. Don’t need some idiot ruining what belongs to me.” 

He’s bottomed out inside of you and your hands grip the bed sheets as he begins to thrust. 

“Satoru.. not so fast,” you moan as you feel his hands gripping your hair. 

But he’s grunting, and not holding back. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he moans delirious. 

The thing about Satoru is he can forget how well endowed he is, well not truly forget he is much too prideful for that, but he fails to understand just how it can feel for you. It’s only when you reach around and grip his wrist that he slows down a bit, laughing. “Sorry baby, I know it can be too much.” 

He slides out of you reluctantly and turns you on your back so you’re facing him. He puts you both in an intimate mating press as he slides into your pussy from the front now. He drives himself in so deep all the way into you until it’s at the base. 

“Mmm.. that’s it. Can you feel me here?” He asks his hand pressing down on your stomach where his thick dick bulges, your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Yes, ‘Toru. I feel you,” you cry out. 

“Good because you’re mine. You understand that? Get that into your pretty little head only I can fuck you here.”

He gives you a sloppy tongue filled kiss while he moves inside you, slowly and deliberately. You feel every ridge, every detail of his flesh and you can feel his pulse inside of you like it’s your own. 

Your hips buck up to meet his thrusts, needing more of him as the two of you kiss. 

You’re breathless as his lips move to your neck and still his strokes are so deliberately slow as if he wants you to memorize how he feels. 

Your hands go to his muscled back now, loving to leave scratches and love marks and he throws his head back and groans. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum, and it’s going right inside of you. I don’t wanna hear any protests, you got it?” He says his eyes are possessive and wild. 

You nod, in the mood he’s in right now you doubt anyone could talk him out of anything. 

His strokes are faster now, the lewd sounds of wet skin against skin along with your shared moans fill the room. 

By the curling of your toes you can feel your own orgasm coming.

“I wanna hear you say you’re mine. Need to hear you say it,” he practically demands.

“I’m yours. All yours Satoru.”

Your grip on him is so tight and he all but explodes into you. It doesn’t seem to stop after the initial burst, a steady stream flowing into you.

“Yeah.. fuck.. milk me,” he moans riding out his high. He’s not selfish in bed however for him true pleasure comes from getting you off so he rides out his orgasm, hitting your sweet gummy spot over and over.

His hands grip your breasts, playing with the sensitive nipples and causing you to gasp in ecstasy. When he leans forward and sucks on your tit that along with his continuous hitting of your sensitive spot causes you to orgasm.

The sensation is like falling off a cliff, a high only he’s been able to consistently bring you to. The two of you lay there for a moment holding onto each other’s sweaty bodies and catching your breath. Of course it is Satoru that breaks the silence.

“Can your little boyfriend make you feel that good?” 

______

After cleaning up, you’re in bed with Satoru. This isn’t new of course, he isn’t the type to kick you out even if it is a friends with benefits situation. 

The difference is before the two of you would watch tv or be on your phones, or he’d roll over and go to sleep.

Tonight is different.

He had held out his arms and told you to “come here.”

So you lay against his chest as he stroked your hair. 

It’s strange at first, but it feels right and so natural.

He clears his throat.

“So listen…will you be seeing that guy again?” he asks, trying to appear nonchalant.

You look up at him.

“No, I won’t.” 

He visibly relaxes.

“Good,” he says, the corner of his mouth slipping upwards into a smile.

“And you?” you ask.

He furrows his brow in confusion.

“What about me?” he asks.

“What about your mystery woman? The ones who has her items here,” you say with resentment in your voice. 

He shakes his head and laughs. 

“I bought those things for you, for when you stay over. I didn’t know what you used so I just bought some luxury brands. I just wanted the place to be stocked in case you ever forgot anything,” he says. 

You blush at his words. The only reason you had even gone out with that guy was because you were under the impression Satoru was entertaining someone else.

“And how do I know you don’t keep the place stocked for other women you bring over?” you ask.

His face darkens and is serious.

“Because there are no other women. Not for me. There’s only you.”

He says it with such sincerity you have to believe him.

“Sounds pretty exclusive…” your voice trails. 

“I want it to be. Tonight made me realize that I minded, no I more than minded seeing you with someone else,” he says. 

“Then how come before you said you don’t do relationships or any of that stuff?” you ask confused. 

He sighs and strokes your hair for a bit before answering.

“I have a habit of loving too hard. I can be suffocating, this you know well. I can be jealous. I can be too much. I just didn’t want to stifle you or scare you away. But I don’t want to leave it open ended anymore because that’s not the solution either. I can’t watch other guys try to swoop in.” 

His blue eyes look a thousand years old for a moment, then they are back to their playful self.

“So where does that leave us?” you ask. 

“It means you are stuck with me forever, baby. Whether you like it or not.”

AN: I am obsessed with possessive, jealous Gojo so I will be drabbling a lot about that. Also I described the date like Toji on purpose as an Easter Egg :)

[haechanniessgirl]

pretty when you cry part 2 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ y.jw

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

long awaited part 2!!!

summary: you were always sensitive growing up, crying and weeping in your mother's arms over things in a way that few understood, until you met a boy, whose only true goal was to protect you, but failed in doing so as he got overwhelmed by his high school teenage years and left you behind

pairing ✧˚ · . yang jungwon x reader ( some enha members are mentioned )

genre ! established friendship, fluff and angst, arguments, friends to lovers! word count:

AUTHORS NOTE:: sorry for the delay but here is part 2!! i hope you enjoyed! im gonna start taking requests, so please send me anything <3

italic text: flashbacks ( in case of confusion )

fuck , your heart felt like bursting through your chest. sliding down the bathroom stall door, you clutched tightly your bag that has now slid down next to your shaking form. you couldnt breathe, your eyes blurred with tears that continuously slid down your already stained cheeks, your other hand gripping the roots of your hair as you struggled to keep quiet.

the air felt suffocating, the bathroom stall sending you into a claustrophobic frenzy, the lingering bathroom smell making it even harder to breathe. your phone started ringing, but in that moment, you couldnt focus on anything else, other than the fact that you have officially lost your best friend, the only person that felt like home to you, your anchor through hardships in life, your person.

but no matter how hard you tried to ignore the constant buzzing from your phone, the screen illuminating every so often, it almost irritated you. for a moment, you looked boringly at the toilet in front of you, huffing at how pathetic you felt, but the endless stream of messages you were receiving once again lulled you out of your head space, and you hastily wiped your tears and turned over to your phone laid out on the floor. he had texted you, even called you.

you couldnt help but let out a forced laugh, so this is what it takes for him to finally contact you. your feelings were hurt, you felt like your soul had espaced your body, hell even your heart clenched at the mere thought of jungwon, but you had to look at his messages that were left notified on your phone, carefully not opening them in case you werent ready to answer him just yet.

wonie: im so sorry wonie: please, im so sorry wonie: i promise please, ill keep my promise, im not leaving you, ill never do that, im so sorry y/n, please answer wonie: where are you? i need to see you, please let me explain myself wonie: god even if you dont want to see me, please let me make it up to you, im sorry for hurting you, im sorry for ruining us, im so so sorry for fucking up so bad that i lost you 7 missed calls from wonie

you didn't want to continue, you felt incoming tears and stopped reading. he didn't want you anymore, he didnt want to be your person anymore, he didn't want to protect you anymore, and he made that so clear. but why now? why after a month? where you painstakingly waited for him, gave him the benefit of the doubt, continued to love him, despite pushing you away the way he did?

admittedly, you wanted to answer him, but you weren't ready, whatsoever, you needed time, to think this through, and it was your turn to walk away from him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jungwon sat in the cafeteria, legs bouncing, breathing ragged as he prayed and hoped to catch a glimpse of you, even a for a mere second. to desperately beg for your forgiveness, kneel down in front of you, to once again worship the ground you walked on, to love you the way that you deserved to be loved.

he couldnt think straight, his mind constantly replaying the image of you, of how the second those repulsive words left his mouth, you crumbled in front of him, how that being the first time he's ever seen so much despair and hopelessness paint your beautiful face.

he always thought you were beautiful, he admired you from afar so much that thats all he could ever think about, you. the way your eyes sparkle, the way you smile despite the tears running down your reddened cheeks. he loves you, with all his being, and he only now realized how irreplaceable you are. you mean the entire world time, and he's so in love with you, with your whole nature. it has always been you.

jungwon was lost in thought, until a feather-light tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. he turned quickly, hope flaring that it might be you. but it wasn’t. of course it wasn't you. It was jake, looking at him with concern. "hey, you okay?" jake asked gently.

jungwon blinked, finally taking in his surroundings, the table was quiet. his friends were all silently looking at him with worry etched on their faces, almost like they pitied him for looking so miserable. he hadn’t even realized he had been crying until jake pointed it out, by passing him a tissue. "do you need some fresh air?" jake suggested, his voice soft, a small smile on his face. "let’s take a walk."

he nodded numbly, allowing jake and sunghoon to guide him out of the cafeteria. they walked in silence, jungwon in the middle as he looked at the ground, until they reached the quiet of the school courtyard. the clear air helped clear jungwon's mind a little, only for a moment, but the guilt still weighed heavily on him.

sunghoon broke the silence first. "you wanna tell us whats going on between you and y/n? i mean we're worried, we've never seen you like this, and this is the first time we've seen you interact with y/n."

jungwon took a deep breath, feeling the tears well up again. he almost laughed, you, the love of his life, his person, was kept hidden from his friends, the one he cherished the most. it was almost funny to him, how your friendship lasted a decade, yet none of his friends have ever heard about you. he was a screw up.

"y/n and i have been best friends since we were kids." he began, sliding down the brick wall as he kept his gaze on the ground, "she’s... she’s always been there for me, and vice versa, and growing up, we had always promised to be there for each other. but ever since high school started, i’ve been neglecting our friendship, her. i got so caught up with football and everything else that i put her second. and now... now i messed up."

jake and sunghoon couldn't help but exchange confused glances, their concern deepening. "what do you mean" jake asked, mirroring the boy, as he slid down the wall and accompanied jungwon now slumped over his knees.

jungwon wiped at his slowly eyes, trying to steady himself, "she confronted me today, you both saw..." he continued, "and told me how much she missed me, how she felt like she was losing me. and instead of being there for her, reassuring her, i lashed out. i said things... terrible things. i promised to never make her cry, but i did, i made her cry, and she left."

he looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "i love her. i’ve always loved her. but i fucked up, i fucked up so badly" he heaved, his chest so heavy with guilt that he couldn't shake the feeling off, despite finally opening up to his friends, the weight what was supposed to be lifted off his shoulders remained, almost weighing him down and he felt like he could be buried alive at any moment.

the air was tense now, as silence lingered, and for a minute, jungwon thought that he had messed up so badly, this even his friends couldnt help him.

but sunghoon was the first to speak up, momentarily, easing the boy, as he knelt down next to jungwon, a hand on the boy's shoulder to keep himself steady and not fall over, "you messed up, i wont lie to you jungwon, you royally messed up, but recognizing that is the first step. of course you'll need to make things right. if she means that much to you, fight for it" he sighed, " and you know her best, whether she feels like talking to you now or not, give her a day, pull her aside and set things straight. let her know how you feel, how much you love her" he continued, " you have nothing to lose at this point, won, go big or go home" jake chimed in, sending the boy a warm smile. " you can do it yeah?"

jungwon nodded, determination settled down on him, but he had this lingering fear that you wouldn’t forgive him, and it crushed him. he knew that laying it all down on you would give you insight into how he felt, and maybe then you would understand, maybe then you would come back to him. he was willing to wait for however long it would take, as long as he could be back in your world as your person, and you his. he never realized how painful losing you was, until it happened, until you walked out of that classroom, crying because of him.

he was ashamed of himself, looking down at the series of text messages he had left you, expecting you to have opened them, at least read them, but nothing. he was left on delivered and slowly his determination started to crack. but there was so much to fight for, to salvage, and he found himself revolting to even look at.

and for the remainder of the day, he looked lifeless, his body moved faster than his mind could think, going through the day for the sake of perfect attendance. however, he never paid attention in class that day, and sat in the back of the classroom, writing and rewriting his words, trying to find the right way to express his remorse and his love.

almost like how you prepared to confront him earlier that morning.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

you went home after the confrontation, much to your dismay despite hating the fact that you'd have to miss school. but you didnt know if you could handle seeing jungwon, fearing that maybe he'd turn away from you, anger lingering him. you wished you never confronted him, and maybe then things would be okay, maybe you should've been more patient with him. but you told yourself it wasn't entirely your fault, you still had self worth, but for the sake of your heart, you wanted desperately to salvage whatever you had left of your friendship.

upon arriving home, it was about 10:30 am, grinning slightly i have time to go back to bed and tell mom and dad i felt ill and couldn't go to school. and thats exactly what you did, carefully unlocking the door, you made your way inside, and quietly took off your shoes before tip toeing to your room and shutting the door behind you. only then you could breathe, only then you feel serene in the comfort of your room. but that only lasted a second before your mind replayed memories of you and jungwon, in this very room. you felt tears form, but you held it in for the first time that month.

quietly stepping out of your worn clothes, and slid on your pajamas from the night before. you crawled into bed, and closed your eyes. but you couldn't fall asleep despite feeling exhausted from all the crying you did earlier that morning. however you stayed put, refusing to go on your phone, worried that maybe another message from jungwon would appear and all hell would break loose. so you kept your eyes shut, until sleep took over.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was impossible for jungwon to fall asleep, the clock read 2am, and he simply couldnt shut his eyes, tossing and turning, and ever so often opening his chat with you to see if you had read his messages. you have, and you did for the most part. but he didn't know. it was eating him alive, every thought of you sent him spiraling down a rabbit hole, telling himself that this was it tomorrow, or more like today, where he could either win you back or lose it all.

he couldn't wait until morning. every minute felt like an eternity, and the thought of spending another moment without fixing things was unbearable. he knew he had to tell you how he felt, and he had to do it now.

with a sudden burst of energy, jungwon threw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes close by, and slipped out of his house, beelining toward your place. he knew the road by heart, he had taken the same route so many times, and the thought of you being so close by, made him run faster. while the streets were quiet, the world shrouded in the stillness of the early morning, the only sound were of birds, and jungwon's heavy breathing . his heart pounded in his chest from exhaustion and anxiety as he approached your house.

reaching your window, he noticed your night lamp was on, you were awake, he thought. and without a delay, he picked up a few small rocks and began to throw them gently against the glass, hoping to catch your attention without waking your parents. each clink of the rocks echoed in the silence, his breath held as he waited for a sign that you had heard.

inside your dim lit room, you were also wide awake, unable to sleep. the confrontation with jungwon replayed in your mind, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to find solace despite being in the comfort of your room. until you heard the soft tapping at your window, you were initially startled, choosing to ignore it, stupid wind you thought, but the soft clinks never stopped, and frustration took over your body and you jolted out of bed to check. and then you saw him, standing there with a desperate look on his face, close to tears.

your heart skipped a beat, were you imagining things? are you still lucid or was this the result of a fever dream? you reasoned with yourself that maybe you were hallucinating, and that you were just tired. but it looked all to real, the cold night air hitting your face, as your hair blew in the wind. you hesitated for a moment, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. but seeing jungwon like this, so vulnerable and earnest, you couldn’t ignore him.

“jungwon, what are you doing here?” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear, trying to keep your voice low to avoid waking your parents.

“please, y/n,” he said, his voice trembling. “i need to talk to you. i couldn’t wait. not when i havent explained myself, not when ive ruined us, please, let me in.”

his eyes were filled with such raw emotion that you couldn’t turn him away. you frankly yearned for his presence, and despite you telling yourself that you weren't ready, you nodded and quickly ran downstairs, unlocking the back door, letting him in. the exchange was quick "go upstairs quietly first, ill lock the door and get you a glass of water" you hummed, while he nodded and headed upstairs.

you took a minute to breathe, not noticing the fact that you held your breath the second you opened to door, and slowly made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and filling it up. your mind was blank, not a single thought.

while jungwon made it safely to your room without causing any disturbance to your parents' slumber, he noticed small changes to your room, like how your bed was now pushed into the corner, or how you reorganized your shelves. but what remained untouched was the images of you and jungwon, pinned to a cork board. he stepped closer, and looked over the images, memories flooding in, and he felt himself shaking, tears forming once again. funny how he's the one crying despite causing this severance in your friendship.

his thoughts were pulled away from him when you entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind you and setting the glass of water on your nearby vanity.

turning around to meet your gaze, he stepped closer, his hands trembling. he couldn’t hold back any longer. tears streamed freely down his face as he reached for you, pulling you into a tight hug. “i’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry for everything. ive been horrible to you, i never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m so sorry.”

you felt his grip tighten as if he feared you would vanish if he let go. the weight of his apology, the sincerity in his tears, broke down the walls you had built around your heart. you couldnt help but hug him back , your own tears flowing freely.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “i needed you, jungwon. you were all i had" as you gripped his sweater.

“i know,” he replied, his voice filled with regret. “i know I messed up, but i love you. i’ve always loved you, i love you so much, and I was caught up in my own life to see what I was doing. please, forgive me. i’ll do anything to make it right.”

you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, seeing the depth of his remorse and love. “i love you too, jungwon,” you said softly. “i always have. but you hurt me, so so bad.”

“i know,” he said for the nth time that evening, nodding through his tears. “and i’ll wait as long as it takes. i’ll prove to you that you mean the world to me, and i’ll never take you for granted again.”

"i've forgiven you the second i saw you at my window won" " you've always looked so pretty when you cry "

in that moment, you both were overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings. jungwon leaned in, his lips trembling as they brushed against yours in a tender, hesitant kiss. it was a kiss filled with the pain of the past, the promise of the present, and the hope for the future. you responded, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. the kiss deepened, becoming a silent vow of love and forgiveness. when you finally pulled apart for air, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily, tears mingling with smiles.

"stay with me," you whispered, your voice barely audible. " i don't want to lose you again."

"never," Jungwon replied, his voice resolute. "i'll never leave you again."

wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down with him onto your bed. you lay down togethe holding each other tightly, as sleep started to take over. the warmth of his body against yours brought a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a long time, slowly lulling you to sleep.

as he looked over you, your head rested on his chest, he gently stroked your hair, his touch so soothing. "i'm so sorry," he whispered again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"i know," you murmured. "we'll get through this, together."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[justporo]

At a point in time

It's a lazy, stormy night in Baldur's Gate. Astarion and you are just lying in bed cozily. Rain whips and taps against the windows. And wind howls around your cozy little home. Some lit candles throw softly shuddering gold-orange light and some shadows in your room.

Astarion is laying between your legs - his upper body is wrapped around yours, your legs are hooked around his hips and back comfortably. His head is on your chest. His eyes are closed -softly though. He's barely moving at all. You've even stopped talking a long while ago.

You lazily brush through his soft curls with one hand, tugging softly on single strands. Trying to detangle some knots. Carefully letting your fingertips press onto and caress the nape of his neck - right there where you can feel the tension in his spine.

Your other hand is holding his, idly playing with your joint fingers. Tugging on the end of his little finger. Letting your fingers scratch over the palm. Then locking fingers with his and squeezing affectionately.

Astarion feels your warmth. How it blissfully seeps into his own body. With one pointy ear pressed to your chest he can hear and feel your calm, slow heartbeat. The rhythm is steady and sure. He's breathing deeply - a habit he can't seem to shake. And he's come to enjoy the slow rise and fall and how it softly sways his body against yours.

And as he lays there with you, he can feel himself relax - even if just a little. The years of perpetual fight or flight being finally over. Finally, the hope of being able to let his guard down. Removing all the layers of defence that were needed for survival. And the opportunity to hopefully find himself again after the thick walls are torn down.

Some tension is finally dissolving after centuries of being as taut as a bow string. Ready to be set off at every given moment. Ready to cut, to hurt. But the strings loosen now, the arrow's being lowered. At least for this moment in time.

Astarion's shoulders drop, his jaw relaxes. He melts into the skin-on-skin contact, feels how it makes all his spikes he's put up to not let anyone get close, evaporate. He lies in your arms - that demand nothing of him - only provide him with comfort and much needed solace.

And he could just stay right in that moment forever until all of him had blissfully perished in this comfort. Your arms and body wrapped around him being his small piece of heaven.

The safe haven he's yearned an eternity for.

And the anchor, steady in place, he knows he can always come back to if needed should waves lead him astray.

Author's note: Wrote a drabble without that even being the intention, I only wanted to set a scene... Then my head wanted to be pretentious and flesh it out more... I actually wanted to work on longer stuff and I only did this while waiting for a parcel...

[himasgod]

Kinich x Reader and Wriothesley x Reader

Where reader struggles with social anxiety

(I loved making this request! As always, not too specific, to suit the reader's taste. If you have social anxiety, remember to be cautious and find your safe place, don't force yourself on others! I hope you enjoy it <3)

Wriothesley

A celebration at Fontaine Court turns into a nightmare for you, but Wriothesley is there to guide you back to calm.

The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. The constant hum of conversations around you filtered through your mind like an endless hum, making you feel like your ears were going to burst. The room was packed with elegant people chatting easily, but for you, being here was like trying to breathe underwater.

You had tried to stay close to your boyfriend, Wriothesley, seeking his reassuring presence in the crowd, but even he was busy talking to some of the court officials. You had moved away so as not to be a burden, trying to blend into the shadows, but the feeling of all eyes on you was suffocating you.

Your breathing became labored. The lump in your throat grew, and your hands began to shake. The heat of the room became unbearable, and the pressure on your chest kept you from breathing.

You needed to get out of there.

Without waiting another second, you slipped through a side door and found yourself in an empty hallway. The cool air hit your face, but you still couldn’t control your breathing. You leaned against the wall, trying to stop the world from spinning, fighting not to fall apart.

It was then that you heard familiar footsteps approaching.

“My love?” Wriothesley’s deep voice cut through the fog in your mind like an anchor. You didn’t look up right away, embarrassed that he saw you like this, so vulnerable. But he didn’t need you to answer; it was enough for him to see the trembling of your hands and the gleam of your panicked eyes.

Without saying anything, he calmly approached you. His presence was like a protective blanket, covering you from the storm raging inside you. Slowly, he reached out a hand towards you, but he didn’t touch you right away. He knew that in these moments, contact could be overwhelming, so he waited for you to be the one to make the first move.

“I’m here,” he murmured quietly, his tone firm and calm. “Breathe with me.”

It took you a moment, but you finally took his hand. His fingers were warm, his grip firm but not tight. At the contact, something inside you broke and you let out a choked sob, your tears rolling uncontrollably.

“That’s it, keep breathing, my love” he said softly. His words weren’t rushed or forced; he was willing to stay there as long as it took.

Slowly, your breathing began to sync with his. The pressure in your chest lessened, and the lump in your throat unraveled. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until you finally looked up at him. Wriothesley was watching you with those dark blue eyes filled with endless patience, not a trace of judgment in his expression.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said before you could apologize. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling that way.”

He wrapped you in a warm hug, his arms around you with the security of a refuge you knew you could always return to. “If you feel overwhelmed again, just let me know,” he whispered close to your ear. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

Gratefully, you clung to him as if he were your only salvation. For a moment, everything else faded away, and the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the sound of his even breathing, and the comforting warmth of his embrace.

You didn’t know how long you spent there, but when you finally pulled away, your hands were no longer shaking, and you could breathe normally.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his tone denoting more affection than concern.

“Yes... thank you,” you replied in a whisper. A small but genuine smile appeared on your face, something he met with a satisfied look.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested, caressing your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You don’t need to linger in places that hurt you.”

You took his hand once more, and this time there was no hesitation.

Because with him, you knew you would always have a safe haven to return to.

Kinich

A crowded Natlan market becomes a challenge for you. Kinich, with his gruff but honest style, helps you calm down.

The sun was blazing down on Natlan's bustling marketplace, where voices rose in ceaseless chaos. The air was filled with the scent of spices and roasted meat, and at every step you were hit by a sea of ​​bodies moving around incessantly. The laughter, the conversation, the shouts of merchants calling for the attention of buyers… it all mixed together in a deafening hum that made your heart beat faster than you could bear.

You had thought you could handle it, that you could accompany your boyfriend Kinich without problems while he gathered supplies for his next commision. But the crowd began to close in around you, and you felt panic seep through your veins, stealing your air little by little. Your hands shook, your legs felt like jelly, and the urge to escape overwhelmed you.

Kinich, who was haggling with a merchant for materials, immediately noticed the change in you. His sharp gaze turned to you, seeing how your eyes were wide, fear reflected in them. He knew what that expression meant; he had seen it before, even if you tried to hide it.

“Mh...” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. Without a second thought, he turned to the merchant and tossed a handful of coins in his direction, leaving the materials uncollected.

He didn’t care at all that he had lost the bargain, not when you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He pushed through the crowd until he reached your side, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with concern disguised as impatience. “Hey, look at me,” he ordered in his deep, but not aggressive voice. His calloused hand caught yours, squeezing it firmly, anchoring you to reality.

You couldn’t find your voice, but you felt the comforting pressure of his hand. Kinich leaned towards you, making a barrier between you and the crowd that continued to move around him as if nothing was happening. “Come on, breathe,” he told you, more gently this time. “Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s not the damn end of the world.”

His words were abrupt, but that didn’t make them any less effective. You knew his style: direct, blunt, but filled with a sincerity that made you feel safe. Focusing on his voice and the warmth radiating from his body, you managed to take a deep breath, though you still felt the lump in your chest.

“That’s it,” Kinich murmured as he saw you starting to regain control. His fingers, though rough, traced a small circle on the back of your hand. It was a gesture he probably didn’t realize he was doing, but it always managed to calm you down.

Seeing your breathing stabilize a little more, Kinich guided you out of the market without another word, keeping you close. He led you down a less-traveled alley and finally stopped in a secluded corner, where the noise was more distant. He let go of your hand just so he could turn you to him, his golden and green eyes staring intently at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?” he asked, his tone still somewhat annoyed, but you knew it was more concern than anything else.

“I didn’t want to bother you… you were busy and…” your words died in your throat as you saw his expression harden.

“Bother me?” he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re more important than a bunch of screaming merchants and their damn arrows. Understood?”

You fell silent, feeling a little foolish for having worried so much about something that, in his eyes, was so simple. But that was what you appreciated most about Kinich. To him, there was no need to complicate things; if you felt bad, he would be there, period. No judgment, no unnecessary questions.

With a sigh, Kinich softened his expression and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The scent of leather and wood that always accompanied him enveloped you, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could truly breathe.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured next to your ear, his voice softer than ever. “But next time… if you feel that way, tell me. You don’t have to face it alone.”

And there, in his arms you allowed yourself to accept his support without reservation.

Because even though Kinich wasn’t the most delicate with his words, he always knew exactly how to make you feel safe in the midst of chaos.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[wiltedflowerpetals]

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Captain John Price's wife, a trained assassin, is about to go on a mission, but she has only one thing on her mind. Her husband. The man who didn't know about her secret job…

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Words: 2850

Warning: fluff, a bit angsty, death (target got killed)

Part 1: Wife Meets Friend | Part 2: (you are reading it) | Part 3: Wife In Danger | Part 4: Husband Saves Wife | Part 5: Husband And Wife

The next morning, you turned in your bed, arm moving towards John’s side, only to find out that he was not in bed. No. By the smell of coffee that lingered in the air, you knew that he was in the kitchen. You dressed quickly and headed downstairs, finding him at the table with a steaming mug in hand, flipping through a newspaper.

“Morning.” He greeted with a warm smile as you entered the kitchen. His eyes brightened as he saw you, and he set the newspaper down to focus on you.

“Morning.” You replied, returning his smile and walking over to pour yourself a cup of your favorite drink. The aroma was comforting, like a small anchor to normalcy after the day you'd had. “You’re up early.”

“Old habits.” John said with a shrug, taking another sip from his mug. “Couldn't sleep much, so I figured I'd get a head start on the day.”

You nodded, though you wondered if his restlessness had anything to do with you. Did he sense that something was off? You tried to push the thought aside. “Any plans today?”

“Nothing much. Thought I’d get some work done, maybe catch up on a bit of paperwork.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “What about you?”

You sipped your hot drink, carefully considering your words. “Just some errands around town, then I might drop by the office for a bit. We’ve got a few deadlines coming up.”

John chuckled, shaking his head. “Always working. You should take a day off sometime, you know? Relax a little.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his concern. “I’ll try to remember that.”

As the day wore on, you found yourself reflecting on the life you’d built with John. Your marriage was strong, built on love and trust… Trust that you were constantly betraying by keeping your true self hidden. Only because you wanted to protect him from your job. The world you operated in was dangerous, filled with secrets and lies, and the less John knew, the safer he would be.

In the afternoon, you decided to step out to run the errands you’d mentioned earlier. You kissed John’s and left, promising to be back soon. As you drove through the streets of your neighborhood, your thoughts drifted back to Kate’s visit. It had gone well, but the pressure was building. How much longer could you keep this up?

You stopped at a small park on your way back home, needing a moment to clear your head. Sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree, you watched as families played with their children, couples walked hand in hand, and joggers passed by with their headphones in. It was a picture of a peaceful and normal life… A life you never had.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You grabbed it and glanced at the screen, seeing a message from an unknown number. You read the brief text: We need to talk. Usual place. 1900.

You frowned, recognizing the message. It was from one of your CIA contacts. You took a deep breath, quickly typing out a response. You were used to it by now, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. You needed to find a way to slip out tonight without raising John’s suspicions.

When you returned home, John was still in his study. You paused at the doorway, watching him for a moment. He looked so peaceful, so content in his element.

“You’re back.” John said, looking up with a smile as he noticed you standing there.

“Yeah, just finished up.” You replied, stepping into the room. “How’s your day going?”

“Not bad.” He said, leaning back in his chair. “Got a lot done. I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, you know, to unwind a bit. What do you think?”

Your heart sank. John rarely suggested going out. But tonight, of all nights, he’d chosen to go on a small little date with you. Great… You couldn’t refuse without arousing suspicion, but you also couldn’t afford to miss the meeting.

“That sounds nice.” You said carefully, already trying to figure out a way to work around it. “But how about we raincheck for tomorrow? I’m a little tired from running around all day.”

John studied you for a moment, eyes filled with concern. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve seemed a bit off since yesterday.”

You stepped closer to him. “I’m fine, really. Just a little worn out. Tomorrow would be better, I think. We could make it a proper date night.”

He reached out, taking your hand and pulling you onto his lap. “Alright, if you’re sure. Tomorrow it is.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Of course you felt guilty, but you had no other choice. “Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his neck softly. “For understanding.”

“Always.” John murmured, holding you close. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You closed your eyes, wishing more than anything that you could tell him the truth, that you didn’t have to hide this part of yourself from the man you loved. But you couldn’t - you wouldn’t - risk his safety for your own peace of mind.

Later that evening, after you’d shared a quiet dinner at home, you waited until John had settled into the living room with a book before making your move. You casually mentioned needing to check on something at the office, using one of your excuses. John offered to come with you, but you gently declined, insisting it wouldn’t take long.

He kissed you goodbye, watching as you left with a small smile, completely unaware of the true nature of your errand.

You drove through the city. The usual place was a parking garage downtown, one of the many locations you used for these kinds of meetings. You arrived a few minutes early, parking in a shadowy corner and waiting.

A black SUV pulled up next to your car shortly after, and a man in a dark suit stepped out, his expression serious. You recognized him immediately - Agent Daniels, one of your primary contacts at the CIA.

“Evening, Mrs. Price.” He greeted you with a curt nod.

“Daniels.” You replied. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a situation.” He said, handing you a slim folder. “A high-value target is back on the grid. We need you to handle it.”

You opened the folder, scanning the information quickly. The target was a known arms dealer with ties to several terrorist organizations - a dangerous man with a long list of enemies. “This is a priority?”

“Top priority.” Daniels confirmed. “He’s planning to move a shipment in the next 48 hours. We need to shut it down before it reaches its destination.”

You nodded, already planning your approach. “What’s the location?”

“He’s holed up in a compound outside of the city. We’ve got a team on standby, but you’ll be leading the operation.”

You closed the folder, meeting his gaze. You sighed, not wanting to lead the operation as it meant that you also had to lead a team. You preferred to work alone, but apparently you had no other choice. “… Understood. I’ll take care of it.”

Daniels gave you a brief, approving nod. “Good. You’ll be briefed on the full details tomorrow morning. Be ready.”

With that, he got back into the SUV and drove off, leaving you alone in the garage. You took a deep breath. This was just another mission, another job to complete. But as you started your car and headed home, you had one thought. Balancing your secret life was becoming harder by the day, and you didn’t know how much longer you could keep the two worlds from colliding.

When you returned home, John was still in the living room, dozing lightly with the book resting on his chest. You paused in the doorway, watching him sleep, heart heavy.

You approached quietly, taking the book from his hands and setting it on the table. He stirred, opening his eyes slightly. “You’re back.” he mumbled, half-asleep.

“Yeah.” You whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “Go to bed, honey.”

He nodded groggily, allowing you to help him up. As you made your way upstairs, you felt the familiar pang of guilt, stronger than ever. You loved him more than anything, and yet, every day you deceived him, kept him in the dark about who you really were.

You two crawled into bed, and John pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he could protect you from the world. But he didn’t know the truth - that it was you who was protecting him, shielding him from the bad guys during his missions.

The next morning, you were up before dawn. You moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake John as you gathered your gear. Today’s mission was critical, and you couldn’t afford any mistakes. As you pulled on your tactical suit, your mind focused on the task ahead. There was no room for doubt or hesitation.

Before leaving, you slipped back into the bedroom, where John was still fast asleep. You stood by the bed for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so unaware of the dangerous things you were doing and going to do. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, whispering, “I love you” before turning to leave.

The drive to the briefing location was uneventful. The compound outside the city was heavily guarded, and the target was known for being ruthless. But you’d faced worse.

When you arrived at the location, Daniels and the rest of the team were already there. They were gathered around a large table covered in maps and surveillance photos. You walked in, nodding to them.

“Glad you could make it.” Daniels said as you approached. “We’re ready to go over the plan.”

You nodded again, stepping up to the table. “Let’s get started.”

The briefing was quick and to the point. The target was using the compound as a staging area for an arms deal that could supply a dangerous faction with enough firepower to destabilize an entire region. The mission was simple in theory: infiltrate, neutralize the target, and destroy the shipment before it could be moved.

But as with all things in your line of work, the reality would be far more complex. The compound was well-fortified, with multiple layers of security and heavily armed guards. The risk was high, but so were the stakes.

“I’ll lead the assault team.” You said as you went through the details. “We’ll go in at night, under the cover of darkness. We’ll need to move quickly and quietly.”

Daniels nodded. “Agreed. We can’t afford to tip them off before we’re in position.”

The team spent the rest of the day preparing, double-checking equipment, and going over the plan until everyone knew their roles by heart. You kept your mind focused on the mission, pushing aside any thoughts of John and the life you’d have to return to after this was over. Now was not the time to think about it. You couldn't afford distractions. The mission required your full attention.

As night fell, the team geared up and prepared to move out. You stood with your team, your expression calm and composed. This was the part of your life you had to keep separate from John, the part he could never know about.

“Alright, everyone.” You said. “We go in fast and quiet. Stick to your roles, and we’ll get this done. Let’s move.”

The team moved out in silence; their vehicles drove them towards the compound. The tension in the air was palpable. This was what you were trained for, what you were good at. Every detail of the mission played out in your head as you approached your target.

When you arrived at the outskirts of the compound, the team disembarked, moving swiftly into position. You led the way, your movements precise. You reached the perimeter, where you signaled for the team to hold. From their vantage point, you could see the guards patrolling the area, their weapons at the ready.

“Snipers, take out the perimeter guards on my mark.” You whispered into your comm. “We move in as soon as they’re down.”

There was a tense silence as you waited for the right moment. You counted the seconds in your head, timing their approach perfectly. Then, with a single command, the silence was shattered by the sound of sniper rifles. The guards dropped one by one.

“Move.” You ordered, and the team advanced, slipping through the shadows as you made your way deeper into the compound.

The mission unfolded with ruthless efficiency. The team moved like a well-oiled machine, each member playing their part flawlessly. You encountered resistance as you closed in on the target, but you were relentless.

As you breached the main building, you found the target in a makeshift command center, surrounded by his most trusted men. The firefight that ensued was intense, but you were unstoppable. In a matter of minutes, the room was cleared, and the target lay dead at your feet.

“Target neutralized.” You reported, your voice steady as you stood over the body.

“Good work.” Daniels replied over the comms. “Proceed with the secondary objective.”

You and your team quickly moved to the storage area, where you found the shipment of weapons. It was an impressive cache, enough to equip a small army. You planted the charges, setting the timer to ensure you had enough time to get clear.

“Charges set.” You confirmed. “We’re heading out.”

The team made their way back to the extraction point, the sound of distant explosions rumbling behind them as the charges detonated. The mission had been a success, but there was no time for celebration. You had to get out of the area before any reinforcements arrived.

As you reached the extraction point, sighed in relief. The mission was over, and soon you would be back home with John, back to the life you were desperately trying to protect.

The ride back was quiet, the team too exhausted to talk. You leaned your head back against the seat, closing your eyes for a moment. You thought of John, wondering if he was still up, if he was waiting for you. You couldn’t wait to see him, to feel his arms around you, after this mission.

When you finally returned to the base, you debriefed with Daniels and the rest of the team. As soon as the formalities were over, you took a shower fast and changed your clothes, before you headed straight for your car.

The drive home was a fast. All you could think about was John and your bed. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that the lights were still on in the house. John was still up, waiting for you. Your heart swelled with emotion as you stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door.

When you walked inside, you found John in the living room, sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as you entered, a relieved smile spreading across his face.

“You’re back.” He said, standing up to greet you.

You smiled, feeling the weight of the day’s events start to lift as she crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him. “I’m back.”

John held you close, his embrace warm and comforting. “I was starting to worry. Everything alright at the office?”

“Yeah.” You lied smoothly, pulling back to look at him. “Just some last-minute issues, but it’s all sorted now.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “You sure you’re okay? You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine.” You tried to assure him. “Just tired, that’s all.”

John nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Come on, let’s go to bed. You need to rest.”

He kissed your forehead and smelled your hair for a second. “Did you shower?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, there was a small smoothie incident at work. It was everywhere.” You lied at him, walking with him upstairs as he chuckled.

You changed into your pajamas and crawled into bed beside him. John pulled you close, his presence reminding you of what you were fighting for.

As you lay there in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing. The mission was over, and you were lucky that he wasn’t suspicious of any of your lies. But the fear still lingered in the back of your mind. The fear, that one day, John would find out the truth, and everything you’d worked so hard to protect would come crashing down.

But for tonight, you allowed to savor the warmth of John’s embrace and the quiet peace of your home. Tomorrow, you would face whatever challenges came your way. But tonight, you were just (Y/N) Price, the woman who loved her husband more than anything in the world.

And that was enough.

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[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ…"

Word count: 5,000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

RELEASE — 13. Her.

Their lips met with an increasing frequency, each kiss more insistent than the last, like an unquenchable flame demanded to be further stoked. Yet, just as the desire to surrender swelled like a tide ready to break, he would always pull back, extinguishing the moment. The frustration coiled tightly in her chest, a painful knot that throbbed with each missed connection.

She found herself adrift in uncertainty, grappling with the reasons behind his withdrawal. It gnawed at her, this need to understand and break through the obstacle that held them in this painful limbo. He seemed to revel in her company as much as she did, then a shadow would flicker across his expression, and he would retreat, an unseen force compelling him to do so. 

Was she simply too demanding? The thought lingered. Perhaps her expectations were the invisible walls. 

Usually, in those instances, she said nothing. Instead, she offered him a gentle kiss on the forehead before turning away, her back facing him. She would close her eyes, desperately trying to block out the unrelieved pressure that would keep her on edge as the night wore on and inevitably shadow her thoughts the following day. 

For him, that did not seem sufficient; he had begun to evade contact even in sleep, placing a pillow between them as if it could somehow contain the tempest of emotions swirling in the air. He believed himself subtle in this maneuver, convinced that she remained oblivious in her slumber. On more than one occasion, that act had elicited an amused chuckle from her. 

One particular night, they had surrendered to kisses that left their lips red and swollen, their breaths ragged and their hearts racing. Driven by desire, she attempted to slide her leg over his hip, seeking a more intimate contact, but he pulled away once more, maintaining that chivalrous gentleness that she so longed to shatter.

For her, it was a titanic effort to hold back. Her entire body, rebellious and restless, screamed for resolution, a warmth coursed through her from head to toe.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she distanced herself, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them. He, with his eyes closed and jaw clenched, buried his head in the pillow.

“What troubles you?” she inquired, barely breaking the stillness. “What is it that holds you back?” It was the first time she dared to voice that question.

He was rigid beneath her touch; she could feel the strain under her hand as she gently cupped his face, coaxing him to meet her gaze. He obeyed reluctantly.

“What holds me back is the certainty that if I continue, I shall not be able to stop” he confessed, each word laced with raw sincerity. Her breath caught in her lungs.

Though she wanted to dismiss it, she knew he was right; someone had to be the anchor, the steady force that kept them afloat. Her mind, intoxicated by desire, struggled to think clearly, and she realized that if they didn’t find a way to slow down, they could plunge into an abyss that would ruin the delicate order they were meant to uphold. But, gods, how she longed to abandon all caution and lose herself completely in him.

She merely nodded, her throat tight and parched. In the depths of her thoughts, she mused that if he wished to stem the tide, his words didn’t quite fulfill their intention. For that night, she couldn’t shake the dream of persuading him to surrender fully and to intertwine so completely that there was no trace of where one ended and the other began.

The corridors of the castle hummed with frenetic activity, buzzing with a level of commotion far beyond the ordinary. The upcoming celebration in honor of the King had ignited a whirlwind of anticipation and hustle. Servants scurried about, their footsteps a rhythmic clatter on the stone floors, while emissaries from the most powerful lords mingled, their conversations filled with hushed politics

She moved with a determined stride, her mind set on a single destination: finding the one person she knew could offer the guidance she needed in these… delicate matters. Their interactions since their arrival had been fleeting, limited to brief exchanges during meals—a great contrast to the time they used to spend together in Dragonstone, where constant proximity was the norm.

Upon reaching the room, she noticed the door slightly ajar. Even so, she announced her presence, feeling a slight flutter of nervous anticipation in her stomach.

Baela, hearing the knock, spun around with a beaming smile. “Sister, how great it is to see you!” she exclaimed. She was dressed in her riding attire, adjusting her leather gloves. “I was just about to take Moondancer for a little flight. She has been so restless since we arrived. Come join me! We need to escape this madness for a bit” she added with a laugh.

“Yes, I would love to” she replied, though her tone carried a touch of seriousness. Clearing her throat, she added, “However, I came here to talk to you about something.”

Baela’s curiosity was immediately piqued. Her eyebrows shot up in interest as she motioned for her to enter. The door closed softly behind her as she made her way to one of the room’s armchairs. Baela soon joined her, her demeanor shifting to a more serious, concerned expression.

Before she could ask any questions, she blurted out the words in an excited rush, her voice rising higher than was prudent: “I am with a man.”

Baela’s eyes widened in astonishment, her face lighting up with a gleam of excitement. She sprang to her feet, her energy bubbling over. “This calls for wine!” she declared, heading towards the door with the same determination one might use to conquer a battlefield.

Upon returning, she tossed her gloves disdainfully, letting them fall into the floor and sank back into her chair, taking her hands into her own. Her hands reached out and clasped hers, her eyes alight with eager curiosity. “Pray, tell me everything” she implored. An alleviated chuckle escaped her lips as she nestled into the intimate atmosphere.

“Who is he? A lord? A knight? Or perhaps a mysterious stranger?” She couldn’t help but smile at the hunger for details. “Is it… casual?”

“He is courting me.” 

“Then he must be someone of significance” Baela exclaimed. “Do not leave me in suspense. Who is he? At least provide me with a clue. Is he from court?”

“It is quite complicated” she murmured, wrestling to withhold too much information.

Baela frowned, her tone shifting to one of persuasion, as if she were unearthing a buried treasure. “Complicated? You cannot drop such a bombshell and then just remain silent. Do I know him?”

The directness of the question made her bite her lip, caught between the impulse to confide and her loyalty to Aemond, who had requested discretion. The truth burned in her chest, eager to be released, but breaking his trust was a boundary she was unwilling to cross.

“He wishes to keep it a secret, at least for the time being.”

Her eyes watched every small gesture attentively, searching for a clue, anything that might betray her. “Come now, you are not going to keep this from me, are you?” Baela exhaled with playful exasperation, her fingers drumming impatiently. “This is torturous.”

“I cannot, Baela” she insisted, pleading for understanding, even as her smile betrayed her longing to share. “I promised not to.”

“Oh, by the Gods.” Baela reclined dramatically against the back of the chair, feigning frustration, though her face still shone with excitement. “What if I were to uncover it myself? You know I excel at these things” she said with a confident grin, certain that she would unravel the puzzle sooner or later.

“Then that would not be my fault.” She let out a small laugh, well aware of her sister’s determination. “But everything in its own time.”

“At least tell me this. Does he treat you well? Does he make you happy?” 

She took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of those memories to envelop her. “Yes, Baela. He treats me wonderfully, and yes, he makes me happy. Truly happy.”

“That sounds magnificent” Baela responded, gently. “And what was it you wished to discuss specifically?” she sought, taking on a knowing mischief.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a rosy flush creep onto her cheeks at the mere thought. “Well,” she began, intertwining her hands and playing with her fingers, searching for a way to start without giving too much away, “I have been spending a few nights in his company” she confessed, drifting into a dreamy tone.

“Do not tell me you have shared a bed with him?” Baela looked at her, her mouth slightly agape, a glint in her eyes. “This is getting better and better!”

Suddenly, firm knocks echoed, and Baela dashed toward it, almost running with the speed of someone unwilling to miss a single word. The tray waiting at the threshold was deftly received. “Do not stop speaking!” she exclaimed, as she closed the door.

With swift and assured movements, she placed the tray on the table beside them, the delicate clink of crystal glasses punctuating the air as she filled them with white wine, their favored choice. “I have long awaited this moment” she remarked, her laughter filling the room.

Her words rang true, and were far from exaggeration. In the past, Baela had queried numerous times about those certain topics, but she had never been able to provide the satisfying answers she was hoping for. Even on more than one occasion, Baela had introduced her to various lords. Although they seemed kind, none managed to awaken in her an interest beyond courtesy.

“The truth is, he is a gentleman, Baela, truly” she asserted. “And while I am grateful for it, I find myself immensely frustrated” she added, lowering her voice slightly as she savored a sip of wine, the liquid emboldening her spirit. “I am at a loss as to how to encourage him to relax. We have only kissed, as he will not even allow me to touch him.”

“Well, I understand that it can be quite complicated to halt once you have begun” Baela replied, leaning forward with keen interest. “Sometimes, a touch of patience and a dash of cunning can lead you further than you might expect.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, charged with a new energy as she continued, her tone blending wisdom with a frolicsome charm, as if she were sharing an enchanting secret. “However, it is not always necessary to delve to the depths right away. There are many ways to explore the waters before taking that final leap. Although I am certain your mysterious man is aware of that. Perhaps he simply wishes to proceed with caution, or he is waiting for your signal.”

“I doubt that is the case, for he must be just as unfamiliar with this as I am.” She recognized the unlikelihood of him seeking counsel, given his reserved nature. As Baela regarded her with a sidelong glance, as if demanding more insight, she continued. “He has awaited for me, just as I have for him.”

“Has he?” Baela mused, brimming with astonishment. “That is a rare find indeed. Men typically do not place the same significance on the first time as we do” she remarked, amazed. A smile blossomed on her face, pleased to have further confirmation of his exceptional nature.

“He is unlike any of the others” she asserted, confidence radiating from her as thoughts of Aemond illuminated her features.

Baela returned the smile, her look warm with affection. “You deserve someone like that” she said earnestly. “Now, would you care to know more, or can you guess what occupies my thoughts?” she teased, pouring more wine into their glasses, the golden liquid sparkling in the light.

She let out a soft laugh, relishing the thrilling direction their conversation was taking. “I can surmise a few things, but I suspect you will guide me better than my imagination” she replied.

With a twinkle in her eye, Baela began to outline a series of possibilities that had never crossed her mind. Each word she spoke drew her in deeper, and as the hours slipped away, they delved into the topic with fervor. Their lunch transformed into a delightful symphony of laughter and wine, with Baela sharing her insights and past escapades, imparting wisdom she had gathered along the way.

“I understand now why you fought so fiercely to prevent Daemon from cutting off that cook’s hand” she said, recalling a past incident.

“It would have been a crime to lose those hands” Baela burst into laughter at the memory, biting her lip with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “But back to you. Do you wish to go further with him, or would you prefer to wait?” 

“Unlike him, I cannot think so coldly” she responded with a soft chuckle. “If it were up to me, we would have crossed that bridge the very day I arrived. The only thing restraining me back is, well, the consequences that follow.”

“In that case, I shall tell you that as long as you take the proper precautions, there is no reason not to indulge yourself” Baela explained. Noticing the confusion on her face, she continued, “We live in a world where men hold precedence, deemed superior and untouchable. They can enjoy and not face repercussions or lose their prestige.” Her pitch grew sharper with discontent.

She listened, surprised by the depth. She had never reflected so deeply on such matters before.

“There are truths that neither the maesters nor the septas dare to share with us” Baela continued, her tone energetic. “Because if we yield to temptation, just as they do, we shall bear a lifetime mark. We will be branded, lose our worth, and be judged mercilessly. Is that not a dreadful injustice?” She nodded fervently, her frown reflecting their shared indignation.

Then Baela smiled, relaxing a bit as she said, “Well, I apologize, I can be rather passionate about these topics at times.”

“There are ways to avoid such fates—tricks discovered by and for women to prevent unwanted consequences and to enjoy ourselves just as they do” Baela continued, in a conspiratorial whisper. “You must pay heed to the signs of your body and the cycles of your moon. You see, it is crucial that,” she paused briefly, allowing her words to linger in the air, fostering understanding without the need for explicit explanation, “that must occur outside. And if, in the heat of the moment, things spiral out of control, there are certain teas one can consume to ensure no remnants remain.”

Her advice was clear and precise. Then, a new doubt crept into her mind. “The septa always claims that before a wedding, a maester will… examine us to ensure we are still pure.”

Baela frowned for a moment, her expression thoughtful before she replied, “Yes, that is true. But do not fret too much, it is not as common as it once was” she reassured her. “If it comes to it, you can always claim you lost it while riding, no one would be able to verify such a tale” she added with a roguish grin. She nodded, appreciating the logic and irony behind her words.

“Is it as painful as they say it is?” she questioned, feeling a twinge of apprehension.

“That is merely a rumor, spread by those wishing to scare us into submission, to deter us from pursuing our desires. I am certain of it” Baela said, dismantling her fears with confidence. “Or perhaps by someone who has not been with a partner who knows how to treat them. Personally, I did not suffer at all. It all hinges on preparation.”

“Thank you for this, I truly needed it.”

Baela threw her arms around her, rocking her back and forth. “Thank you” she said between giggles, “you cannot fathom how long I have been waiting for us to finally speak about this.”

“Let us toast!” Baela exclaimed, raising her glass with enthusiasm. “To us, to you two.”

After the evening's revelry, she staggered towards her room, each step feeling heavier under the weight of the wine. As she reached her chambers, she crumpled onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness with a sigh of relief. As her head met the pillow, an unrelenting tide of fatigue swept over her, pulling her into the depths of slumber with a fierce, unyielding force. And, in the realm of her dreams, Aemond appeared once more as the central figure, just like he always did.

The next night, after a dinner that seemed to stretch endlessly, she sought solace in a soothing bath to calm her frayed nerves. Lyra, her ever-loyal companion, moved with practiced ease, adding a few drops of fragrant rose oil to the steaming water and tenderly massaging the lather into her hair. 

As the steam curled around them with the delicate scent, the room filled with a determination, as calming as invigorating. She longed to unleash every detail of her conversation with Baela and the recent developments with Aemond, but she was well aware that such revelations would compel her lady-in-waiting to remain vigilantly at her side until dawn. Lyra’s watchful presence, akin to that of a protective elder sister, would ensure that no indiscretions slipped through the cracks.

She couldn’t fault Lyra for her vigilant demeanor; her innate caution was a virtue she greatly valued. It was the tether that kept her grounded in moments of temptation. Yet, in that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to cast aside prudence, to indulge in reckless abandon, and to surrender to her impulses, regardless of where they might lead.

Once she bid farewell to Lyra, she secured the door, as if the simple act could seal away any swirling fears. With a flutter of anticipation in her chest, she prepared to change her attire. She stipped off her usual comfortable nightgown, replacing it with a more revealing garment that clung to her figure like a second skin, each seam accentuating her curves. Her still-damp hair cascaded in soft waves over her chest, leaving glistening trails of moisture on the fabric, creating an almost translucent effect that hinted at the secrets hidden beneath.

As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, a gesture of satisfaction appeared on her face. She mused that if Aemond could withstand her tonight, his strength of will would surely merit accolades, destined to be celebrated as a remarkable triumph.

A soft knock at the back door made her heart skip a beat, quickening with the anticipation she had nurtured throughout the day. She wrapped herself in a cloak, concealing her figure like a precious gift, enhancing the element of surprise. Besides, she knew he wouldn’t allow her to traverse the halls without it.

The previous day and part of this one had been spent apart from him, and she hoped that the distance would work in her favor, making him yearn for her in her absence, allowing desire to blossom with the wait.

Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady herself, she opened the door. Aemond’s expression upon seeing her was enough to affirm her choice, relief washing over him, illuminating his face as if she were his guiding beacon. He took her hand gently, and she allowed him to lead her.

Once inside, and after closing the door, the stillness embraced them, as if all the words he might have spoken were left outside. She slowly removed the cloak in front of the window, allowing the moonlight to caress her skin. For a few moments, her eyes wandered over the vast night landscape, feeling the heat of Aemond's attention on her back. A confident smile tugged at her lips, but she masked it before turning to face him.

He was watching her, utterly absorbed. Letting the cloak fall gracefully onto the armchair, she advanced toward him with measured, deliberate steps, her stare locked on him. Her face wore a calm expression that belied the bubbling excitement within, waiting for the perfect moment to overflow.

When she stood before him, Aemond lifted his gaze, appraising her body with a burning intensity that placed a blush across his own cheeks. She was entranced by the warmth spreading through his skin, as if his emotions were laid bare before her—vulnerable and sincere.

Without uttering a word, she turned away and glided toward the bed, presenting her back to him once more. She settled in the center, extending her legs to one side, partially veiled by the delicate fabric, leaning on one arm.

He followed her, moving carefully until he positioned himself beside her. She watched him, quiet, allowing the tension to fill the space between them, tangible and warm.

“Are you upset with me?” Aemond’s voice emerged as an unexpected whisper, laden with uncertainty that contrasted with the confidence his presence always exuded. She furrowed her brow slightly, taken aback by the inquiry, her confusion evident in the slight tilt of her head.

“Why would I be?” she replied, with confusion and tenderness, wanting to understand the root of his fears.

He opened his mouth, but words did not immediately follow, creating a hesitant silence. After a brief pause, he finally expressed, “You have not wanted to see me all of yesterday, nor this afternoon.” There was a trace of fragility in him, and she felt a sharp pang of guilt for having kept him waiting, her heart constricting with remorse. She resolved to set aside any notion of repeating the plan.

She hurried to shake her head, offering a small smile that aimed to reassure him. “I spent the other day with Baela; as soon as I arrived in my room, I collapsed from exhaustion. Today, I was with my family, but do not believe that you were not on my mind” she explained, and he nodded slowly, relief easing his features.

She extended her free hand and gently caressed his face, her fingers brushing his skin with love. Aemond closed his eyes at the touch, leaning his cheek into her palm and seeking solace in her warmth. “I have missed you” he confessed.

“I have missed you as well” she replied, her smile reflecting the sincerity of her words. 

“I feared I caused you discomfort with what I said the other night” he added in a subdued tone, as if alarmed about having ventured onto forbidden ground; yet, those very boundaries he feared were precisely what she yearned to blur within his arms.

“That did not cause me discomfort.” A cheeky smile curling on her lips, the spark in her semblant showing her true feelings. “In fact, it was quite the contrary.”

Aemond regarded her with a flicker of surprise and relief as she continued, her tone seemingly indifferent yet heavy with intention. “Yesterday, when I spoke with Baela, I asked her some questions.” There was an undertone in her words, an unspoken invitation to explore the topic that now hung tantalizingly between them, waiting to be uncovered.

The fitted dress she wore restricted her movements, so, without breaking eye contact, she directed her hands to the hem, slowly lifting it. Her thumb and index finger grasped the silk, while the rest of her fingers glided over her skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Aemond’s intense look returned, shedding any remnants of vulnerability, as if her actions had reignited his desire in an instant.

“Questions?” He seemed torn, wanting to focus on her conversation, but his eyes roamed to the mesmerizing play of her hand, capturing every subtle movement.

She slid her hand over her knee, then paused when the dress creased against her thighs. “I thought she could guide us.” Aemond's eye locked onto hers, concern passing through his face. “I did not mention your name” she clarified. He nodded gently, returning to the observation of her legs, this time with deliberate intent. A slight smile graced her lips, reveling in the attention. “She told me a few things.”

“What did she say?” he wondered, unable to tear his mind from the exposed skin that beckoned for touch.

“That there are certain pleasures we can explore before taking the big step” she breathed, letting her words hang in the air like a fragrant invitation. “But if we so desired, we could let ourselves go.”

She sat up, leaning toward him, parting her legs. Sliding one over his, she settled herself atop him, wrapping her arms around him. Her face nestled against the crook of his neck, her warm breath caressing his ear.

“And I have been thinking about this, about us, repeatedly” she confessed, her fingers tangling gently in his long hair while the other hand traced the taut muscles in his back. “I do not want you to stop” she uttered. “Do you want to stop?” Her voice a blend of uncertainty and desire that made him shiver. His answer came swiftly, charged with raw emotion: he shook her head, breathing heavily, as if on the brink of diving into the void.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Aemond sliced through the quiet like a dagger, rough and filled with deep sorrow. “Wait.”

She froze at his hesitation, the moment stretching taut between them. With a compassionate softness, she said, “We do not have to continue if you are not ready.”

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, hiding his face as his body slumped inward, a silent testament to his isolation. The sense of confinement was palpable, as though he were ensnared in a labyrinth with no escape.

“Aemond, what is it?” A murmur, an attempt to clear the clouds of uncertainty surrounding him. Yet he remained silent, as if each potential answer would only deepen his anguish. “Would you prefer me to leave?” She tried to offer space and time.

“No” he murmured, his voice muffled and low, softened by his hidden head. “I am afraid.”

“I am a little scared as well” she admitted, her fear transforming into empathy. She tried to lighten the weight that he carried with a small soft laugh.

“Not of that” Hh corrected, almost inaudible, and the air thickened, as if a silent storm was brewing. “I must tell you something” he finally said, the urgency in his tone making her grasp the magnitude of what was to come. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she nodded, her fingers brushing his neck with a delicacy that sought not to rush him.

After an eternity of hush, Aemond lifted his head, his face a silent plea for understanding. His expression was a painful portrait of fear and desolation. His troubled eye met hers, and that was enough for her to move her hands to his face, feeling a wave of concern crash over her.

“You can trust me” she reassured him, a soothing promise of the safe space between them.

“I” he began, trembling, “I have laid with another woman.” The words slipped from his lips like a sigh, a feather descending slowly through the air. Yet, despite the soft delivery, they fell on her with the force of a thunderclap.

She remained motionless for a moment, her hands still on his face, as if trying to steady herself amid the crumbling world crumbled around her. Her heart, once beating with feverish intensity, faltered and stopped for an unbearable instant. Confusion engulfed her, as if a dense, opaque fog had descended, darkening the truth she thought she knew and held dear.

“What... what are you saying?” Her voice a fragile thread, disbelief etched into her eyes.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, and once it settled in her mind, a chilling clarity turned the warmth she had felt into unfeeling ice. The cold spread from her core to the tips of her fingers. Her breathing grew erratic, each heartbeat a drum resonating with the fury of her emotions, and her denial was evident in every involuntary tremor of her body, every shake of her head. 

“No, that cannot be true” she murmured, as though saying the denial aloud would somehow make his words less real. She sprang to her feet, desperate to flee the new reality.

“Wait” he called out, reaching for her hand, but she recoiled with a speed that seemed to accelerate with each passing heartbeat.

“Did you... were you with someone else?” she demanded, the words escaping her lips like a strangled cry, full of deep disappointment. The chasm that opened between them felt insurmountable, a void threatening to swallow everything they had.

“I can explain.” With his face twisted in a grimace of desperation, he tried to approach her again, but she moved farther away, her rejection clear and emphatic.

“Do not dare touch me” she warned, choking with a mix of anger and sadness as she frantically searched for her shoes. Her body trembled, not solely from the cold.

“I did not wish for it to happen” he explained.

She let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Did she force you?” she spat rhetorically, disbelief biting through her tone. She quickly donned her shoes and made her way to the door, unwilling to listen to another word.

The certainty that the separation had been a sharing agony was crumbling in the face of the fact that he had been there, savoring the company and touch of another woman, while she had languished alone. Her breathing grew more labored, the storm of pain and rage becoming an uncontrollable tempest beyond her control.

“Please, stay” he begged, desperation in his manner as he reached out to grasp the remnants of what was slipping away. “Let me explain.”

But she didn’t heed his pleas. With hurried strides and a heart fractured into a mosaic of pain, she moved towards the back door, each step widening the rupture between them. He trailed behind, his desperate calls fading into a distant echo as she reached her room. With a resounding thud, she slammed the door, plunging him into the darkness, left alone with nothing but his supposed regrets.

@callsignwidow @helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @fossface @truly-abysmal @congenialcat @that-girl-named-alex @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark

The next one is the best I have written so far, I can't wait to upload it 🥹

[mochiwrites]

an isal drabble based on @isjasz and @kunehokki's au and this ask ( content warning for blood and death <3 )

(Someone is screaming. You realize it’s your own voice.) 

His head hurts, it aches as if it were splitting in two, his throat feels raw, blood spills on his chin. But he can’t stop, he can’t. He’s so close, he’s almost there. He can’t give up now, can’t allow the name of his home to slip away from him once again and leave him a wanderer with no anchor. 

The King is right here, he can help. Together they can say the name of their home, they can–

(Your country!!! Your home!!! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!!!)

He can’t lose it, he needs to grasp it. 

(You’ve never screamed this much before. So much of you hurts. Does any of it even matter?)

It was his. It was his!

(But you can’t even say it’s name. You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you–)

A sound breaks through the chaos of noise in his head, breaks through the agony gripping his body. It breaks through like some sort of light spilling in through dark storm clouds, just before the sun comes through. 

Something, someone touches him. They grab him by the shoulders, and their hands burn – and yet they do not. Pleasant and gentle, calming and warm, but the contact makes Grian want to tear himself away. He thrashes and wriggles in their grip, yelling some unintelligible thing. It hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsiTHURTSITHURTSITHURTS!

There’s a pressure against his cheek, one that causes Grian to still entirely. His head is still aching, still leaving him heaving with dry breaths from pain. His throat hurts, jaw aching from strain. But ever so slowly does he come back to himself, and it’s all because of the weight on his cheek. He leaves his country behind, lets it truly slip past his fingers like grains of sand, as he locks gazes with gentle looking eyes. He abandons ownership of his home in order to find his place in the lightless depths before him. 

It’s Scar. 

Scar’s hand is pressing into Grian’s cheek, holding it still. 

(He’s… touching you? He’s willingly touching you?) 

The other is looking at him with gentle eyes, the edges of his lips strained in a struggling smile. His thumb brushes along Grian’s cheekbone, “There you are, G.” His voice is soft, like a soothing melody. 

(But…)

(Wait.)

There’s a trail of blood dripping down Scar’s chin. 

Eye going wide, Grian slowly drags his stare down. He finds the front of Scar’s shirt bloody and slightly torn. What he also finds… is his dagger embedded in the other’s chest, his hand on the handle. Panic shoots down his spine, and it feels like the air in his lungs is being squeezed out. He trembles, but he can’t pull his hand away, can’t remove the dagger that’s actively causing Scar to bleed. 

Scar, sweet Scar, tries to play it off, tries to smile at Grian like he isn’t dying from a stab to the heart. Like he isn’t dying at Grian’s hand. He laughs, a dribble of blood spilling over his lips, “Yeah, not m-my brightest moment, huh? Should’ve m-made sure you wouldn’t go swinging at me while f-freaking out.” 

Grian can’t look away from him, family and enemy fading away from him. He hurt Scar. 

“‘s alright though, G, I-I know you didn’t mean it.” Scar pulls his hand away from Grian’s cheek, and some disgusting part of Grian’s mind wants to cry for Scar to put it back, to touch him again. 

Yet all he can manage to respond with a stutter, “S-Scar…” 

“R-Really, it is!” Scar smiles, even as he wobbles forward. “I’d… rather it be the person I love… dealing the last blow…” He slumps over, head landing right on Grian’s shoulder, and Grian can feel the warm blood dropping on his hand. He uses his other arm to catch Scar, as if it’ll do much to help besides keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Scar..?” he slowly asks, breath speeding up as it hitches roughly. “S-Scar?” 

(You killed him.)

Did Scar… say he loved him? “Ah.” He shakes. He trembles. His breath is coming in too fast, too sharp, he can’t breathe. His hands tremor, he lets go of the dagger but it remains in Scar’s chest. Scar loved him. Scar loved him. Scar loved him and Grian killed him. 

(You hear the raw scream that sounds from your voice.)

[xuchiya]

"Quick Reaction" || kang yeosang || one-shot

| genre: non!idol ateez. fluff. slice of life | mentions: teasing. fainting. jewelry gift. | This is literally my high school delusions. My old school is literally an 'old school' school like no phones and computers, being in a relationship is not allowed, and big ass windows as our source of fans--- i mean we do have electric fans and ceiling fans but with the weather and a very old, close to dying, e-fans? We really have to depend on the wind from our windows. Anyways, this list is basically a true experience. My personal favorite? Song Mingi's.

You were bored out of your mind, wishing you could have brought your book or your drawing pad to pass time, although everything seemed to be going smoothly—until your professor called you to the faculty room. "You're missing an assignment," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice as she added, "and so is your classmate, Kang Yeosang."

Anything but that. You cried, stomping your foot to the ground out of frustration. You sighed internally, mentally retracing your steps to figure out which assignment had slipped through the cracks. As you walked to the faculty room, carrying your notebook and pen, you bumped into Yeosang, who had the same expression of concern on his face. You both exchanged knowing glances, resigned to your fate.

“You lost your assignment?” Yeosang asks. You shake your head, “I’m not sure either but I know I wrote it and had a perfect score. What about you?”

Yeosang shrugs, “I guess I was cutting class when it was given.” Both of you giggling knowing that is farfetched. He never does and never will, most especially his mom is your math adviser. Besides, there are guards blocking the two entrances of your school gates, so there is no point in cutting class unless you decide to fake ‘sickness’ to not attend school.

Standing outside the faculty room, you could hear your professor bustling about. "Alright, since you two are here, I’ll dictate the assignment instead, but since students aren’t allowed inside, I’ll give you the answers too. Be quick, though—it needs to be passed immediately and the head will not be happy to have students inside."

You pouted, “We could just work inside the classroom.” 

“Oh … you’re right. You may go but I hope to get this one before dismissal and ask one of your classmates to dictate some of the homeworks you both are missing.”

And that’s how you found yourself inside your classroom. Yeosang stays at the other but you both agree to stay at your classroom instead. You pulled out your notebook, your pen poised to capture every word. Years of training as a news anchor for your upcoming college years had honed your ability to take notes swiftly and efficiently. Yeosang, however, wasn’t faring as well. As your classmate, Hongjoong rattled off the questions and answers, you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, struggling to keep up. His eyes darted from his notebook to yours, then back again, frustration clear on his face.

"Hey, hey, what’s this..." he whispered urgently, tapping you on the shoulder to grab your attention, leaning over your shoulder. It wasn’t until you leaned back to check on him that both of you realized how close you were. Your faces stopped just inches apart, your breath brushing against his lips. Yeosang froze, his gaze trailing over your features, taking in every detail. His heart pounded in his chest as he noticed every imperfection—each one making him feel something unfamiliar yet undeniably warm.

"Hey, if you two are gonna kiss, let me turn around first!" Hongjoong teased, breaking the moment.

Startled, you both pulled away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You quickly handed your notebook to Yeosang, avoiding eye contact as you nervously fiddled with your pen. Meanwhile, he hid his face behind your notebook, furiously scribbling down the remaining answers, trying to ignore the heat still lingering on his cheeks.

As both of you finished the assignment, he took your notebook and he handed the assignment to Hongjoong who insisted on bringing them to your professor since he will be passing by the faculty room and towards the auditorium. After thanking Hongjoong, Yeosang glanced at you, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You met his gaze for a brief moment, sharing a silent understanding, before both of you looked away, the air between you filled with unspoken words and the beginnings of something new.

[sacredwrath]

P8. A little extra suffering as a treat

Torture, stress position, salt in the wounds, suicidal ideation, death wish, medical inaccuracies, confusion/ delirium, dissociation, surrealism, touch starvation

The man leaves him there. Adrian tries to not fall apart immediately. He tries to acclimate to the pain. Feel it as just another sensation in his body.

"It's just pain," he mutters to himself "just pain, just pain... you can deal with pain" but he can't. He never can.

Before long he's whimpering, trying to hold in sobs, but not for vanity's sake this time. Every tiny movement sends sharp crystals burrowing into his wounds, aggravating the burned flesh. If he lets himself cry now he won't be able to handle the pain of it.

He can't take anymore

Since when has that mattered?

Can't do anything to make it worse.

Uncaring tears slip down his cheeks despite himself

His muscles ache. It's only been what? Like five minutes? He has no idea. He'll start shaking soon, jerking as his muscles cramp up. Cracks, now fissures in his composure, let in ice cold panic. It rises, choking off his air. Pathetic, powerless, helpless-

Stop

Where is he?

Brick walls, cracked cement, he digs the sharp edge of his chipped molar into his tongue

It's been an eternity, or maybe an hour? Less? How long is the man going to leave him like this? Part of him shouts in his head, warning him how unsafe this is. It's too far, too far for a stress position, he can't plan to leave him like this for long. Can he? But the man doesn't know what he's doing, he's new to this, and doesn't care if Adrian dies.

For the first time since coming here, he wishes he'd just thrown himself off the bridge. What's wrong with him? He knew this would happen. Of course it would. He needed it to. It hurts.

Agony throbs in time with the beating of his heart, pulling his focus back to his body. His muscles are trembling now, salt crystals tearing into the ruined flesh of his knees and shins. He can feel the crystals disolving in blood.

He tries to pull away, to escape it even if just for a second, heaving himself into the air. The relief is minimal, and soon the strain on his battered ribs force him to relax.

As his knees make contact with the salt again he can't suppress the noise that claws its way from his throat. He wishes the man would've just shot him in the street.

Soon, he's trembling in earnest, salt shredding his resistance like wet tissue paper, turning his whimpers to tortured sobs. It's not real crying. He knows that by now, but he lets his body have its release anyway.

He loses himself in screams.

Shrieking in mad, useless abandon, flaying his throat raw.

Another eternity passes before he realizes he's no longer choking on sobs. He's just choking. Air burns his lungs and his vocal cords refuse to cooperate. Each breath wheezes in and out of him in quick rapid gasps. He tries to slow down, but it feels like there isn't enough air in the room.

"Thank you," He whimpers soundlessly "thank you, thank you, thank you..." the familiar light headed feeling of his body giving up soothes him into black oblivion.

...

He's lost again.

Where is he?

Wandering somewhere dark. It burns.

It hurts.

But it always hurts

Please! He begs silently. Please, please...

He doesn't know who he's begging or for what, but he lets the word form a mantra in his head, chanting it over and over between bouts of obliterating agony.

Each wave unmakes him anew, leaving him raw and spinning

Where is he?

He can't find it. But what was he looking for again?

He desperately snatches at fragments of thought, but they slip through his fingers, burning him even as they dissolve to mist

He's slipping again.

He must be.

It hurts

Consciousness eludes him, but so does peaceful nothingness. He floats somewhere in between, expelled and anchored to himself by pain.

Please-

Where is he?

He can't find it.

Centuries pass.

He feels cool hands. He follows them

There's a voice too, but it speaks an unintelligible language. He tries to listen, but only meaningless noises filter down to his hell

It hurts the closer he gets

But the hands become arms and he feels himself pressed against another body.

It hurts

He clings to it

Please...

The arms leave him, and he cries out

A cool hand against his burning forehead.

Soothing, almost gentle

Then it's gone too, leaving him alone again in the dark with his pain.

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Tag list: @whumpacabra @turn-the-tables-on-them @kiichu @whatwhump

[pfhwrittes]

https://www.tumblr.com/pfhwrittes/739087985055809536/a-quick-little-something-for-dealing-drugs-and

Could you add to this at all?

I’m not sure if you do anons but if you do and If it’s available could I be- 🐙?

(I’m 19 years old)

hi anon, of course you can be 🐙 (also thank you for specifying your age, that's very sweet of you but not necessary. i'm going to trust my anons that they're over 18)

gosh lets see what i can pull up as a follow up for this post. i'll have to dig into my murky memories to see if i can remember where it was going (or maybe to drag up some inspiration).

TW: unspecified intoxication, nausea mention (but no vomit), dubcon touching (johnny doesn't ask before touching the reader character, and the reader character can't consent anyway).

pairing: john mactavish x female reader --

you're sat on the kitchen floor, cool tiles bleeding the slightly feverish heat from your body, propping yourself up against the cabinet behind you. you stomach roils and you take a careful breath through your nose.

"y'alright there, hen?"

you blink open your eyes hazily, not entirely sure when they dropped closed, to look up at one of the men from the living room. did he follow you? where's your friend? you swallow and shake your head carefully. the kitchen blurs and spins around you so you close your eyes again.

"easy, easy. don't want ye makin' yerself sick now."

you feel two calloused palms cradle your face, a thumb strokes your cheekbone lightly sending a burst of heat and static up into your temple.

"m'gonna be sick." you manage to slur out through numb lips but the hands don't pull away.

"naw, yer no'. just need a drink of water is all, hen." one of the hands moves away from your hot face and you feel something cool and smooth nudge your lower lip. you blink your rolling eyes open so you can focus on the glass of water - is it water? - under your nose.

the man tilts your head back slightly and you sip carefully. the water washes away the slightly sour taste in your mouth and you hum to let this helpful stranger know you're done for now.

"good girl, well done." your helpful stranger practically purrs at you as he removes the glass from your lips. you feel his thumb swipe at a bead of water in the corner of your mouth and your world tilts slightly on its axis again. maybe you should ask him to stop touching you now, but you feel like you'll shatter into pieces without the anchor of his palm on your cheek and the thumb that's now resting on your bottom lip.

"is that right?" he asks sounding amused. oh, you must've mumbled some of that out loud. you blink at your stranger, wondering if his eyes really are that blue. who is he anyway? did he follow you? where's your friend?

"'m johnny. i saw you go out into the kitchen. your friend..." he pauses briefly and you're fascinated by the way his lips twitch as he contemplates the words he wants to say. you want to touch the stubble on his jaw. "is a wee bit busy at the moment. so i thought i'd better check on you."

you hum, you know what busy means. and oh, you must've asked him your questions out loud again. you don't know if that's a good thing so you close your heavy eyelids again. maybe that will help you keep your thoughts inside your head.

"hey, c'mon hen. you cannae fall asleep here." johnny taps your lip to get your attention. "let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

you mumble something half formed and garbled about not wanting to see whatever it is your friend is doing with the other men in the living room and johnny huffs a quiet laugh.

"naw, naw. c'mon i'll put you up in my room, how does that sound?"

that sounds pretty good. so you let johnny manoeuvre your uncooperative body upwards and trust him to guide you out of the kitchen in your haze.

you miss whatever he says to the hulking figure in the doorway as you focus on keeping your feet in contact with the floor but you're very aware of the way his hand on your waist burns like a brand.

somewhere in the back of your mind a tiny shrill voice warns you about something before it gets washed away. maybe you'll remember after having a lie down.

-- taglist: @kaadaaan

[wingedquill]

notes on survival (a preview)

so i blacked out and wrote like 4K words of a new fic concept. I don't think I'll be posting it on ao3 until it's entirely done (really do not need another currently-updating WIP) but wanted to share the first little bit on here with y'all (CW: kidnapping, violence against children) ---

Here’s how it starts, for Steve:

He’s ten.

He’s riding his bike. It’s a bit late in the day, but not that late, not nearly his curfew. The sun is still high in the sky, and he can hear kids shrieking with laughter a few streets over. They’d invited him to play with them, but he’d turned them down cause he wanted to check on the tadpoles he’d found in the pond last weekend.

He gets to a stop sign. A car pulls up next to him: old, gray, forgettable. The windows are down, but it’s summer. It’s normal. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

A bang. A scream. 

“Help!” a voice shouts from the trunk. “Someone help!”

The driver looks over. Makes direct eye contact with Steve.

He knows, even as he starts pedaling, that he’s not gonna be fast enough.

***

Steve can’t really remember a time when he’d been un-messed-up. Not clearly, at least. He has the vague, stretched-summer memories of baking cookies with his mom, of somersaulting off the diving board at the public pool and getting yelled at by a lifeguard, of hiding in the woods simply because it was the best way to avoid his chores.

They’re nice memories, he thinks. Part of him wants to put them in a box and never touch them again. But they’re nice.

He’s good at pretending they’re all he’s made of.

But now he’s here. Walking through the woods. He’s not avoiding his chores but he’s also not hiding, and that’s probably the only reason why he’s not vomiting into the underbrush. Nancy’s hand is cold in his, and it’s enough of an anchor.

He’s not alone.

“Will!” he yells, his lungs burning with the force of the yell. “Will!”

He wonders if he got a search party like this.

***

They’re bumping down a road that’s more potholes than asphalt. The other boy won’t stop hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone apologizes. You’re supposed to accept it. 

He doesn’t even know what the boy is apologizing for, not really. He isn’t a kidnapper. He hadn’t tied Steve up and stuffed him in the trunk. He had only screamed for help. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

“I’m Steve,” he says. It’s important that the other boy knows his name. Vitally so. The man who took them isn’t gonna care, and he needs one person here who cares about him.

The other boy sniffles against Steve’s shirt.

“Ed,” he chokes. “I’m Ed.”

***

He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s gasping for air and his sides are on fire. 

Second verse, same as the first.

“We gotta get your shirt off,” Robin’s telling him. “We need to, Steve, your dirty, lake-gunk sweater is embedded in those wounds, I don’t want you getting a massive infection on top of rabies. That’s like, for sure definite dead.”

He drags himself out of the hunting shack and into the Upside Down. Eddie and Nancy are huddled together by a fallen tree, Nancy giving him a quick rundown of how the hivemind works. Neither of them are looking.

“I can’t,” he chokes anyway. “They’ll see–they’ll know.”

Cross your heart and hope to die.

She bites her lip. She looks like his mom had, when she’d told him he wouldn’t be seeing Ed again. Like she’s cutting off one of his limbs to save the rest of him.

“Steve, they won’t care,” she lies.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll chance the infection,” he says. “I mean it Robin.”

She closes her eyes. Scoots around to the other side of him, putting herself between him and Eddie-and-Nancy.

“I’ll dress the wounds quick,” she says. “And give you my overshirt. That okay?”

He takes a deep breath. Hunches in on himself. He’s always been a bit too good at making himself unseen. A bit better than he would like.

“Okay,” he agrees.

***

“They’re looking for us,” he whispers. 

He tucks his face into Ed’s shoulder, wishes they could hug. A hug would make this better, he thinks, if he could just get his arms around to the front. If he could just hug, and be hugged, he’d wake up. They’d both wake up.

They’d both be at home in their beds. They’d be safe. Mom would make him hot chocolate like she always does after nightmares, and he’d check to see if the robin’s eggs outside his window had hatched, and he’d be okay.

“Yeah,” Ed whispers back. “Yeah, they are.”

Around them, the car’s engine roars.

[eyesaremosaiics]

to know that you're mine.

Travis is a rude asshole, except when someone shuts him up by making him cry. And of course, who else should do that besides his pretty girlfriend? — afab reader, pretty much just smut.

“Come on, I didn’t think you'd get upset! I was just pointing out the obvious.” Travis’s voice breaks through the thick tension in his room, his face still morphed into a scowl from how you tugged him away from the rest of the group.

Walking towards him angrily, your arm twitches with the desire to smack him. However, you somehow manage to stop yourself from doing so. Instead, you merely sigh. “Just…stop talking. Okay?” He obviously wants to say something else, but decides not to when he sees you getting ready for a 'nap'. He nods silently, waiting for you to tell him what to do.

"Come on, lay down." Noticing his patient silence, you give him what he wants. Instructions. Following your order, he begins by removing his coat, then his outer pants, before moving to his scarf. His face is already flushed by the time that he sits down on the bed in his boxers and turtleneck, looking up at you awaiting your next command.

After changing out of your own outer layers, you turn to where you think Travis is laying, only to see that he's still sitting up. "Babe, lay down."

His eyes flicker up to yours, nodding as he remembers your instructions. With a small nod, he lays back, his head resting on the pillows. "I'm sorry." His voice is barely a whimper, looking up at you, admiring how your body looks in your own turtleneck and sweatpants.

Climbing onto the bed in order to straddle him, you see how nervous Travis looks. The sight is pitiful, him looking so sad when you're upset with him. "Don't look at me like that." Your voice is mocking, hiding how adorable you find him when he acts like this.

"'m sorry." His voice cracks.

"Stop apologizing." You move forward on his lap, feeling the outline of his length through his boxers, smiling softly at how his lips part to form an 'o' from the stimulation. The sight only makes you reach a hand down, tracing his tip through the thin material as you hold eye contact with him.

Travis lets out a breathy moan, trying his best to keep himself under control for you. His brows knit together as he watches you begin to unzip his fly, your painted nails easily unbuttoning the top. His hands move to hold your hips, wanting any sort of anchor to ground him, but you quickly swat his hands away with a stern expression on your face.

"No touching," Sliding his belt off of Travis's hips, you buckle his wrists together above his head, though not to the headboard. He doesn't need to be that uncomfortable. A small chuckle escapes your throat as you finally notice tears welling in his doe-like eyes.

Without saying a word, you reach a hand into the fly of his boxers, his tip already poking out before you even wrap your hand around him. Pressing a hand to his chest so he doesn't squirm, you slowly expose his aching dick to the cold air of the room. Travis's breathing is loud, letting out whines and whimpers no matter if you're touching him or not.

Tears finally begin to fall from his eyes as you allow his erection to just be there, not touching it whatsoever, just looking at him expectantly. "Please.." It's a whine, a plea for help, and it's just too cute to ignore. Placing a thumb on his tip with gentle care, you begin spreading the precum all over his cock. Once it's fully coated, your fist slowly moves.

You continue the movements until he moans exactly what you want to hear, "Please—I'm almost there." Stopping your fist as soon as the words leave his mouth. You don't want him to come so early, it's not time yet. With a small shake of your head, you let go of it, only making him cry more out of desperation.

"We've done this before, you know the rules." The response is simple, making Travis all the more frustrated with the lack of release. After a moment, you go back to touching him, running your hand up and down his dick. The movements stop again as soon as it's clear he's about to come.

Three times this process repeats, the head of his cock now an angry red while his face is streaming with tears. Taking pity on him, you lean down and kiss him gently as a motivator. "Aw, babe, you've lasted so long!" While the praise is genuine, it holds mockery in it, making fun of Travis for typically coming too fast. You reach behind him, letting his hands free from the belt.

"Thank you, thank you—fuck, please just let me... please? You said I was doing good just now, come on." He immediately starts begging, only stopping when you get off the bed to remove your pants. His chest heaves with ragged breaths when he sees you, sitting up as he watches you move carefully. He knows the routine just like he knows the rules. His aching need is at the back of his mind now, only being able to focus on you in front of him.

You take his place where he previously lay, your knees pressed against your chest while you watch Travis hurriedly remove his jeans, pulling one of the blankets on the bed over his hips to keep you both warm. Crawling back towards you, he can't help but suck hickeys into your neck, his tears now making your skin wet.

"Thank you, babe. Thank you—I love you. Do we have any, uh.." He trails off, unable to ignore the painful throbbing between his legs. He glances around the bed, searching for the condoms he got from Coach Ben. When he doesn't see the pack, he turns to you for instructions.

"It's fine, we don't need them." You shake your head, leaving no room for him to question your statement. Instead, he leaves a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling the crotch of your underwear to the side, letting out small whimpers as he lines his tip up. As soon as he's sheathed completely inside, the warm squeeze makes him unable to control himself, already coming inside of you.

More tears stream from his eyes as he apologizes like it's a prayer, saying your name as a mantra while he begs for forgiveness. "Just keep going for me, Travis." Your hand cups his cheek, sitting up so your lips meet his in a passionate kiss. Somehow, it's enough to make him ignore his embarrassment. Slowly, he begins thrusting in and out.

You can only hope that he'll soon be able to last more than a few minutes with you.

a/n—I fear this took litedral days. thank you to the gc for all of the inspiration, and be ready for many more fics on the way.

[lillylvjy]

Butterfly (fly away)

A/n/// hi so this is a small angst blurb I literally wrote 10 mins ago! So enjoy and please read the warnings! Also this can be looked at as a villain au or just like an au of anything really!

Warnings// main character death, crying, hitting, blood mentioned once, reader has a kid with Wilbur but gender isn’t specified, please tell me if I missed anything!

Edited: not really.

“Oh- thank god! What took you guys so long?! Where’s Wil?” You asked, getting up from the dining room with a relieved smile on your face. But once everyone was through the door, monotone and deep, long expression painted their face, you knew something was up. “Hmm? Where is he?!”

“Y/n-“ Tom choked on his words before he could get the rest out. You looked over at James and finally saw it. All the blood.

“That’s- That’s someone else’s blood! Right? Now- please guys! Where’s my husband?” You ask again, placing your hands on your hips and smiling at them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Wilbur- Y/n you have to understand the situation-“

“No. No no no. He’s not gone. It’s Wilbur! He’s fine. He’s always fine. Where is he? Where is Wilbur?” You asked, raising your voice as you hold back tears, looking around the room, hoping for someone to answer.

As you looked around the room, you made eye contact with Tommy, who was also holding back tears, you saw him shake his head as his bottom lip wobbled.

That’s when you knew.

That’s when you knew your husband was dead.

“N-No. No! God no- please!” You cried as you held onto the counter you were leaning on, keeping yourself from collapsing on the floor. You kept wailing, begging that someone or something up there would give you a sign that he was alive and well and this was just a sick fucking joke. You watched the front door as you cried, waiting for him to come in through those doors, looking at you with the smile of his and arms open wide for you.

But after a couple minutes nothing happened.

No one came.

Wilbur didn’t come.

“Y/n, sit down please-“ James started to grab your arms to move you but you quickly got out of his grasp and turned towards him.

“No! Don’t touch me! You were supposed to protect him. You promise, goddamnit! All of you did! You were supposed to stop him. You were supposed to pull him back and tell him I couldn’t lose him. That I need him-“ You yelled and cried at James, slamming your fist into his chest with little effort. James quickly grabbed your hands and placed his hand on the back of your head, bringing it to rest on his chest as you sobbed and screamed.

A couple second later, you felt arms wrap around your waist and a head drop onto yours. Looking at the culprit with a blurry vision you could make out that it was Tom. He was crying as well. You leant into James once more and held Toms hands that were interlaces around your stomach.

You couldn’t be possibly able to live life without him. He was your rock. Your anchor. Your husband.

Your everything.

*****************

“Ok, come along dear! You have the flowers?” You asked the small girl next to you.

“Mhm! I picked them out just for dada!” Your daughter giggled and took your hand in hers.

“Good job, Willow! Alright- ready to see dad?” You asked the small girl with a smirk.

“Yay!” Willow shouted and pulled you along with her. As you walked to the tree that was on top of a hill behind your house, you quickly take a moment to appreciate the scenery in front of you. The tree has beautiful flowers decorating it, top to bottom. The slight wind making the tree dance freely.

“Ok remember what I told you, ok?” You carefully let her hand go as she took off towards the tree. Willow slowed down as she got closer to the tree, walking to the side and gently laying it fine in front of it.

“Hi daddy!” The little girl said as she plopped down in front of the tree and looked back at you as a way to say “hurry up!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Hey Wil.” You said as you sat down next to Willow, looking up at the words carved into the tree.

In loving memory,

William Gold.

“Wanna tell him about your week or want me to tell you another story?” You asked the girl as she looked up at the tree, as if it was speaking to her. She quickly giggled and said, “story first, then tell him about my week!”

You looked up at where she was staring at to see a cat. A grey one to be exact- but. It looked quite nice. And it was just looking at you both, its tail slowly moving side to side like it was waiting for you to do something.

Just like Wilbur would.

You smiled up at the cat as it licked its mouth and stayed seated. “Ok darling. Come here!” You patted your lap for her to sit in. She quickly scurried to sit in your lap, playing with your hands as you settled in. “What do you want to know now?”

“Hmm how did you guys meet?!” Willow asked with a confused look on her face, not remembering if you told her or not.

“Ahh, are you sure you’re big enough for this?” You joked as you tickled her sides, her giggles spreading through the fields.

“Yes! Yes mama! Pleaseeee!” Willow begged as she jumped up and down in excitement in your lap .

You laughed as you nodded and looked up at the tree.

“Ok- so it all started in a simple little coffee shop-“