#just the idea of being able to break down those walls enough for a few seconds

[lanternlightss]

thinking about flustered venti again.

[gotham--fc]

Avergonyit - An Alexia Putellas Imagine

Not requested, just a little idea I had as I emerge from my woho brainrot and get back into woso

R moves to Barcelona and tries to learn Catalan, what happens when she hears her girlfriend Alexia teasing her about her pronunciation with the team?

I don't speak Spanish or Catalan so I apologize if anything's incorrect I did my best

It probably wasn’t the best idea, moving to Barcelona without knowing any Spanish. Y/N hadn’t planned on transferring, but when Barca Femini makes an offer, well, it’s not like Y/N could refuse. It all happened very quickly, the offer coming towards the end of the transfer window, not leaving Y/N much time to prepare. It really was only a few weeks between the offer coming in, and Y/N landing in Barcelona. She’s extremely grateful that the team got everything set up for her in Barcelona, so Y/N didn’t have to worry about trying to find an apartment or any of those things during the whirlwind of packing and moving across the globe to a place she’s never been.

Needless to say, Y/N’s Spanish was very bad, at least at first. It was a challenge, trying to find her way to the training centre, the nearest grocery store, when she’s not able to ask anyone for directions. Add on that most people speak Catalan anyway, any rudimentary Spanish Y/N could muster didn’t do much for her.

It got easier, the longer she’s here. The team speaks a mixture of Spanish and Catalan, but most speak English too, or at least enough English that Y/N can talk to them. She picks up words and phrases, mostly football terms, since that’s what she hears most often. She’s able to understand what the coaches yell at the team on the field, most of the time, and she finds the areas of the city where people speak English and she’s settles in as well as she can.

What really helps her settle in is the team. Y/N bonds with the other non-Spanish players, them being the first ones she could really speak to without needing someone to translate everything. As time goes on, Y/N finds herself gravitating towards Alexia more and more.

Alexia, as captain, took it upon herself to make sure Y/N was settling in well, and the two hang out outside of training as Alexia gives Y/N a tour of the city and takes her out to her favourite restaurants and coffee shops. The more and more they hang out, the more and more it stops feeling like a captain trying to help a new teammate settle in. Y/N isn’t really sure what to make of it, she knows the ways she’s starting to feel about Alexia, but she’s not sure about Alexia’s feelings.

Things really shift after a tough game, a hard fought win, when the team, despite all being exhausted and sore, decide to go out to a club after. Y/N’s having fun, laughing and dancing with her teammates, and she takes a quick break from the dancefloor to get a drink from the bar. She’s sipping her drink, watching her teammates, when a body slides up next to her.

“Hola carinyet,” Alexia says. Y/N smiles as she turns to Alexia. She’s asked before what the nickname means, but Alexia just smiled and told her not to worry about it.

“Hola Ale,” Y/N says.

“Very good,” Alexia says, “Soon you will be speaking Catalan better than me.”

“I just said hello,” Y/N says. She notices suddenly that both her and Alexia have been leaning towards each other and now Y/N can clearly smell the scent of Alexia’s perfume. Y/N’s distracted by it that she misses what Alexia says next. She zones back in as Alexia laughs and places her hand on Y/N’s arm.

“Do you want to get some air?” Alexia asks. Y/N nods. She quickly downs the rest of her drink and follows Alexia outside.

The air is cool, much cooler than it was inside and Y/N shivers involuntarily. Alexia leans casually on the wall, watching Y/N with a look of amusement.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Nothing, ets bonica.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Y/N says.

“Vull fer-te un petó,” Alexia says in response.

“Ale…” Y/N whines, “Stop bullying me, you know I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Alexia takes Y/N’s hand and tugs her closer, “I want to kiss you. Is that okay, carinyet?”

“Oh.” Y/N breathes, surprised. Alexia doesn’t falter, stays where she is, the same easy confident look on her face as Y/N processes her words. “Yeah. Yeah. You can.”

“Bona.”

After that kiss, and the next morning where Y/N woke up with a hangover in Alexia’s bed, they’ve been inseparable. They’ve been dating ever since and Y/N couldn’t be happier. Alexia makes her feel so happy and content and loved. They’ve had a few bumps along the way, but nothing very serious and nothing that isn’t fixed easily.

“Hola lovebirds,” Mapi says as she and Ingrid walk into the locker room. Alexia rolls her eyes and Y/N sticks her tongue out.

“She’s in some kind of mood today,” Ingrid says as she sets her things down in her locker.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it amor,” Mapi says.

Y/N smiles as she listens to her teammates. She really loves it here and she loves listening to her teammates tease Mapi and Ingrid for being grossly adorable. That, and whenever they tease Mapi they don’t tease Y/N and Alexia.

“Ale?” Y/N says while the team is semi distracted, “What do you want to do, uh, després de la pràctica?”

Since they started dating, Y/N has been trying to learn Catalan. It’s a slow process, but she has managed to pick up a lot of words and phrases and ‘after practice’ is one of them. Y/N speaks Catalan more at home when it’s just her and Alexia, mostly because she’s still not confident in her skills. She’s trying to speak it more with the others, but she still can’t do more than basic sentences.

Before Alexia can answer, Mapi snorts.

“‘Després de la pràctica’” Mapi says, “A pronunciació no és important per a tu, Ale?”

“Està massa ocupada amb altres coses,” Patri says, wagging her eyebrows.

“What are they saying?” Y/N asks Alexia. Alexia hesitates in answering.

“Hey Y/N,” Mapi says, “Can you tell me what this says?” Mapi turns her phone to Y/N, a word, embarbussament, written in her notes app. It’s not a word Y/N has seen before, and not one Alexia has taught her, but she tries. As she stumbles her way through, the snickers around the room get louder.

“Are you sure you’ve been teaching her Catalan?” Patri says. “She’s worse than CGH.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N says. Y/N tries to grab Alexia’s arm, but she doesn’t pay attention as she heads over to where Patri and Mapi are sitting and continues joking with them about Y/N’s pronunciation.

Y/N can feel the embarrassment building. The more the laughter builds, the more Y/N feels like crying. She’s been trying her hardest and Alexia has been, until now, so patient with her. Alexia has always praised Y/N for her Catalan, gently correcting her when needed, but always telling her how proud she is that she’s trying. But now, listening to Alexia laugh at her, Y/N wonders if Alexia really is proud of her, or if she just says that to Y/N’s face, and then makes fun of her behind her back. Along with the embarrassment and humiliation she feels, Y/N also feels betrayed. Alexia knows how nervous she is to speak Catalan in front of the team, terrified of making a mistake. Y/N always thought she would Alexia in her corner, no matter what, but now Y/N realizes that was never true.

***

Y/N stops speaking Catalan after that.

She still wants to learn, but after what happened, she can’t bring herself to try again. Alexia keeps asking if she wants to practice her Catalan, but Y/N says no every time. She’s not going to give Alexia anything else to make fun of her about. Y/N starts to distance herself from Alexia. It’s not intentional and not what she wants, but whenever they’re together, Y/N can’t help but remember how she felt hearing Alexia laugh at her.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head.

“I’m pretty tired, think I’ll just stay home.”

“I don’t mind staying in,” Alexia says, “We can order something or I can cook something for you, carinyet.”

“If you want to go out, then you should go out. I’m sure you can find someone who wants to grab dinner with you. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N…”

“Just drop it Alexia,” Y/N says, “Go have fun with your friends, I don’t care.”

Alexia doesn’t go out, she orders food for them both and they eat in silence. Alexia tries to make conversation, but Y/N stays quiet. After they finish eating and cleaning up, Alexia grabs Y/N before she can go sit by herself.

“What is going on? What’s wrong?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t lie to me. I know something is wrong, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Why?” Y/N mumbles, “So you can go laugh about it with Mapi and Patri later?”

“What?” Alexia says, “What are you talking about? What do they have to do with anything?”

“You were making fun of me!” Y/N says, feeling tears spring to her eyes, “The three of you, you kept making fun of me.”

“When? What are you talking about?”

“You were being mean about how I speak Catalan. You were being mean. I felt so embarrassed,” Y/N can’t stop the tears falling. “I’m trying my best and I know I’m not good and I know I screw up but it’s not like I grew up speaking it like you! You know how nervous I am to speak it and you were mean to me about it.”

“Bebita, we were just teasing. We weren’t trying to be mean.”

“It wasn’t funny!” Y/N takes a shaky breath. “You embarrassed me, Alexia. In front of the whole team. I felt so stupid. I feel so stupid. You keep saying all these things about how proud you are of me and how well I’m doing and then you let everyone make fun of me and you join in yourself!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset,” Alexia says, “I am proud of you and I am impressed by you learning Catalan and I didn’t mean those things I said. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to. I love hearing you speak Catalan, mistakes and all, because it shows how dedicated you are. I love getting to share my language and my city and my culture with you. I’m so, so sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn’t proud of you, or that you are not the most wonderful, and amazing, and caring person I know.”

“It didn’t feel good,” Y/N says, “It made me feel like crap. My girlfriend being so mean to me to her friends, it doesn’t feel good, Ale.”

“I’m sorry,” The longer the conversation goes on, the more distressed Alexia looks. “Please, por favor, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”

Y/N shrugs. She doesn’t know.

“I promise that I will never make you feel like that again. Every minute of every day I will tell you how amazing you are, and I will never make you feel like you’re not the most incredible person. Te amo, carinyet, t'estimo tant.”

“I really want to believe you,” Y/N says, “I want to move on from this whole thing and forget about it, but I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry, I feel terrible. I hate that I hurt you. I mean it when I say I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I promise I will.”

“I know Ale.”

Y/N finally allows herself to fall into Alexia’s arms, lets her wipe away her tears. She lets Alexia hold her and comfort her and whisper apologies and comforting words in her ear. Y/N doesn’t know how they’ll fix this, but she does know that Alexia will never stop trying to make it right.

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity) Masterlist

Nanami Kento is entering his first year of university...as a virgin. Between having to deal with curses and the loss of his best friend, he just never found the time to make a meaningful connection with someone. Now that he's met you, he thinks you could be the one. His one problem? He's a virgin and you're not.

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

Nanami meets you in a few of his classes. After a few weeks of hanging out, you come to find out that he's a virgin...and he's desperate to have a lot of his first experiences with you. You teach him to kiss.

Chapter Two: A Little More Touch Me

You and Nanami hang out during the first night of the holiday break after a few weeks since the kiss. You two decide to play Two Truths And A Lie, which ends with Nanami dropping a bomb about his past. Still, he finds himself wanting to be close to you and feels needy. Things escalate quickly...and end even quicker.

Chapter Three: Les Sucettes

You and Nanami finally have a chance to hang out since the last time, which is much needed after the exams. You can't stop thinking about how things ended last time, and though you want to fool around, an unwanted visitor makes a visit. You make the best of things...and you show him just how talented you can be with your mouth.

Chapter Four: The Honeypot

You and Nanami go on your first official date, and he shows you just how funny and sweet he truly is once he pulls down those walls. Despite him trying to prepare himself for returning the favour for the last time, he finds himself so entranced by pulling all the pleasure from you.

Chapter Five: Drink Water To Cry Better

You two are teetering on the edge of casual and relationship when the both of you get invited to a frat house party. Kento would rather stay home, but he makes an effort just for you. He wants to show you just how much you mean to him, but somehow things just seem to fall apart.

Chapter Six: Telephone Call

Thinking nothing could fix the rift between you two, Kento surprises you with words you never thought you'd hear. Instead of being able to reply, you are pulled away from him by your friends towards a sun soaked summer vacation. The summer vacation where you have your first try at phone sex.

a/n: Inspired by conversations with the lovely @benkeibear and @kenpachisbrat. I can never thank you both enough for this wonderful idea and for the inspiration and friendship. I'll be making a taglist for this fic specifically in the days to come. Please note that if you are in my taglist for JJK, you can choose to opt out of this. Just let me know.

[drefear]

Reader thinks Miguel is cheating idea I had.

Miguel x reader (angst)

TW: (sorta) cheating, anxiety, panic attack.

Miguel?

A pain shot through your chest as he stood there through the window, hands shaky as your eyes welled with tears while you watched him hold her arm and pull her close. How could he? Your hands grabbed at your throat, as if the oxygen was burning your esophagus. HIs eyes bore into her as he pleaded with her about something and you stepped backwards, about to dash for safety and privacy, but your movement must have caught his attention as he made eye contact with you. That was it, your webs shot towards the tallest building you could see and you swung through Nueva York, ignoring how he pushed towards the window you saw him through as you ran, water blurring your vision as you avoided cars.

“Cariño!” Your nickname from Miguel was heard around the city as his voice found your sensitive hearing, the distant hiss of his webs also following you. Glancing behind you, his body moved fast as he trailed! “It’s-”

You swung a hard right through the alleys and snuck through a small alcove, running into an abandoned hospital and hiding into one of the rooms. You sat on the bed and huffed, catching your breath as your emotions were drowned by the adrenaline of being chased. You pushed a button and lowered your mask, then putting it back on as you heard footsteps from a distance away.

Footsteps you knew all too well.

“Cariño, please listen to me.” His voice was far away, but not far enough. You glanced around. The window was broken, but you’d fit through the hole and you weren’t ready to face him because you knew that you would just break down once he looked at you with those beautiful red eyes. The thought of those rubies staring at you made your lungs burn and stomach lurch.

The feeling of something grabbing your wrist broke you from your thoughts, halfway out of the window when you were pulled into something hard and warm.

“Stop running from me!” He begged and his arms wrapped around you as your body began to wrack with sobs, hiccupping. You needed to be away from him, to process everything you were thinking and feeling, everything you saw.

Shoving him backwards, his claws made thick shreds into your costume and a few even made gashes in your skin, hearing him clatter into the hospital bed and tables as you jumped from the window. You swung once more into the brisk air of the city and gulped down the harsh cries that flooded you.

Jumping into the headquarters, you gathered yourself briefly as you walked past the crowds of spider-people and rushed to the anomaly correction room. Seeing everyone working, you found an empty room and hit a few buttons on your watch. As you were about to send yourself home, your watch shut off.

“No, no, no!” You chidded and hit it a few times, trying more as you panicked. “Lyla!” You shouted and the little hologram appeared. “What is happening-”

“He told me to.” She shrugged, “Why? What’s wrong? Are you bleeding?” Her voice made you practically dizzy with anxiety.

“He’s cheating on me! Let me go home!” You screamed and ran your fingers against your mask, seeing her horrified expression.

“I can’t- Ok, hold on.” She watched you pace and your watch turned back on, but it was too late.

“Lyla, off.” His voice made you freeze as you choked from the feeling of him behind you. His footsteps were deafening as your body shook gently, not moving a muscle. Once you felt the heat radiating off of him, a sound stuttered through your lips like a broken, wounded animal. He reached to grab your waist, but your hand caught his and you spun to face him, hardening your face to be able to look at him straight before snatching his hands away from you. Webbing his hands to the wall near him, you fell backwards over a chair as he stared down at your hurt features.

Tapping your wrist, you opened a portal back to your universe and ran through. “Please!” He begged, as you disappeared.

Once you were gone, he snapped his hand out of your webbing, shaking it off. Lyla appeared next to his face, arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat. I was talking to someone about my daughter.” He sighed, “But she got the wrong idea and made a move.” Lyla shifted and dropped her imposing stance, then glanced behind them where the portal closed.

“Why not go after her?”

“I think she made it clear she’s not ready to talk to me yet…”

His shoulders sagged as he sat in a chair near the conference table, running a hand through his hair.

“Mierda.”

[semisolidmind]

i know it's all about the lion's den AU rn and as usual I am FEASTING on the content (excuse the crumbs) but there's an idea that won't leave me alone-

what if Peaches was not human, but an immortal from the beginning? How much would change? I know the whole appeal of these AUs - I mean, that's why I love them and I absolutely love this lil corner of the fandom. but I've been kinda diving into the whole immortality biz in Chinese myths for my oc, so now I'm curious.

Peaches could be someone cultivating and practicing Xian (i hope I'm using that right) for years, or consumed pills/elixir of immortality somehow, or a demon who is oddly very kind and empathetic - would the bois still love her just as much? How different is the dynamic now even if Peaches retains her core personality traits?

love your work! and hydrate before ya diedrate

ive been thinking about this, and i kinda like the idea of immortal reader being an attendant of the heavenly peach orchard.

not super high up the ladder, but not at the bottom either. her powers are limited to helping plants grow just a little bit, creating temporary barriers, and being able to float the way all celestials can. the higher-ups figure that since no one is bold or stupid enough to steal from heaven, they don’t need any extra security in the immortal peach groves.

you can take a guess as to how reader meets the monkeys.

they show up to the orchards, ready to fight their way to the peaches, but instead of some overpowered celestial soldiers guarding the orchard, it's....one immortal maiden. just the one. but she doesn't seem all that powerful, soooooo...

...maybe she'd agree to let them take a few without too much trouble?

the monkey bros go the "oh don't mind us we're just a couple of cute lil monkeys, here to cause adorable and harmless mischief" route in their approach to getting reader to let her gaurd down.

they approach her while she takes a break from pruning some dead branches. she's understandably surprised and suspicious about these two seemingly normal monkeys who've snuck in, but... they are pretty cute. and tame; they let her pet them and give them scritches. perhaps they're one of the heavenly official's pets. reader supposes that they can stay for a while.

wukong and macaque play their parts, get reader's guard down, and steal a couple dozen peaches each. reader notices, but there's not much she can do beyond shooing the monkeys out with a broom (and her soft heart barely allows her to do that). she knows that if she reports it, those cute lil monkeys will be hunted down and killed.

she supposes she could put in a request for higher walls around the grove, or more barriers (she still wonders how the boys managed to get through the first ones), but with how slowly things get done in the bureaucracy...it'd be a very, very long time until it was even brought up in court.

besides, even then....they're monkeys. animals. she won't place blame on them for being what they are. those little cuties probably had no idea that the immortal peaches were any different from the ones on earth.

she could never stay mad at their adorable lil faces anyways.

---

reader, despite what you might think, has a pretty laid back job. once all her chores for the day have been completed (those magic trees don't really need much beyond the essentials to do their thing), she has a good amount of free time to sit and, you guessed it—read.

macaque (because of course, he has to be the first one to fall in every au) decides, on a bored whim, to go visit that nice attendant they stole from not too long ago. perhaps he'll collect some intel while he's up there.

he finds her after a bit of searching. reader sits in a secluded corner of the grove, leisurely turning pages and enjoying the shade. macaque, still disguised, sidles up to her. reader notices, seeming surprised to see him before her face morphs into... a rather adorable pout. perhaps she thinks she's being intimidating.

'damn, no wonder the bureaucracy didn't think they needed any more security,' macaque thinks sarcastically. such a fearsome maiden they've chosen to guard the immortal peaches.

while reader takes a minute to admonish him about stealing, it isn't long before she sighs and gives up on her lecture in favor of scratching him gently behind his ears. he churrs low in his chest. her whole demeanor is as soft and sweet as the peaches she guards (her hands as well, he notes, pressing into them).

macaque laughs internally. a fearsome maiden, indeed.

macaque manages to wiggle his way into reader's lap, pulling her attention from her book. she knows she should be trying to scare him off, but...just—just look at him! he's so cute, and she's too pulled in by how cute he is to notice the oddly powerful aura he seems to exude (far too powerful to be a normal monkey). he enjoys her touch for a while longer before he hears the far-off call of his annoying brother, wondering where he is. he bumps his head into reader's hand by way of goodbye before running off to shadow away more secretively.

reader watches him go, sighing. she really should shoo him away next time.

---

macaque keeps coming back. and reader continues to be unable to kick him out.

with very few visitors and no one else to talk to, reader begins to tell him everything that she overhears during the day; the officials don't think anyone is listening when they air out their gossip as they walk by the orchard. she doesn’t know it, but she’s saving macaque the energy of using his powers to gather this intel on his own.

the six-eared demon makes a habit of showing up to the grove to laze around with his favorite maiden and listen to her read, using “spying” as the excuse he gives his brother for why he's been running off so often. reader seems to have accepted that he won't be leaving her alone any time soon, and he takes full advantage. macaque comes to think of reader and the secluded corner of the grove as his own little peice of heaven.

of course, sooner or later, wukong joins in. he's a bit angry that macaque didn't just say he was visiting the peach orchard and it's attendant; he wouldn't have minded, he would've come with! macaque doesn't bother trying to explain that he didn't want to share.

but share he does, seeing as wukong greedily takes all the attention from reader he can get. the monkey king finds himself enamored with the maiden who's hands and heart are as soft as the fruits she tends to. he won't admit it (it may hurt his carefully crafted "ruthless demon king" image if he did), but wukong is a cuddle bug when it comes to reader. everything about her is just so soft, and she's so kind, and she always smells like peaches—he could spend hours laying on her chest as she reads.

he just feels so...peaceful, with her.

the boys are entangled in reader's life, visiting whenever they can and butting into whatever she happens to be doing. they see her day to day happiness (brief conversations with the lower maids she's friends with), and her struggles (the two monkeys bore witness to the officials taking their anger out on reader over something trivial, their rage towards heaven growing stronger). the two grow more and more attached to her as time goes on.

and so they begin to work a small abduction into the grander scheme of their plan.

---

sooner or later, the monkey warlords properly raid heaven. they and their demon army storm the jade palace, murdering servants, footsoldiers, and as many officials as they can. the monkey king and the six-eared macaque lead a massacre so bloody it stains the palace walls red. wukong especially holds back none of his rage, getting caught up in his hatred for heaven and zealously continuing to shed as much celestial blood as he can.

during a lull in the chaos, macaque, covered in vicera, makes his way to the immortal peach grove. with the battle coming to a close and the demon forces being driven back, now is as good a time as ever to snatch up a special “peach” for himself and his brother.

he finds said peach preoccupied with a gallant attempt at protecting herself and a few lower maids from a demon soldier, using a series of barriers. the soldier breaks the barriers almost as fast as reader can make them, rapidly pushing her and her companions into a corner. reader puts up a brave fight, but she's a celestial attendant, not a celestial warrior.

macaque calls out to the soldier, halting their attack and telling them to regroup with the others and prepare to move out. the soldier complies, crassly assuring the women that they’re about to be nothing more than bloody pulp on the garden wall. no one has ever gone against the shadow general of the demon army and lived.

macaque waits until the soldier is out of sight before leisurely approaching the still quivering group of maids and their determined, but exhausted looking guard. reader tenses as he steps closer. she feels a horrible sense of dread crawl down her spine when she gets a good look at him.

the dark fur, the shape of the mask marking on his face...reader feels tears start to bead at the corners of her eyes.

this entire time, she'd been petting and coddling the six-eared macaque. the second in command of the dreaded demon army has been sitting right in front of her and she had no idea. reader can barely keep her breathing steady.

and if this is her dark-furred companion, then the lighter-furred one must be…oh stars.

…she let the monkey king in.

she practically threw open the doors for him. she didn’t report them when she should have, she knew there was something strange about them but she was so sure they were just normal animals—oh stars above, if the jade emperor ever discovered this, she’d be executed.

but…but reader steels herself. she can deal with that later. her friends are counting on her.

now, she’s certainly not expecting the blood-covered demon general across from her to be open to bargaining (he could just kill all of them now, but reader gets the feeling he wouldn't be merciful enough to end it quickly). and he knows exactly what leverage he has over her, she can see it in the smug look on his face.

but she tries anyways.

“let them go, please,” she begs breathlessly, arms shaking from the strain of maintaining her magic. the least she can do is buy her friends a moment more. “do whatever you want with me, but they are blameless.”

macaque chuckles, the sound reverberating lowly between the trees. whatever he wants, huh? oh, sweet peach. she should know better than to give him so much leeway.

“that is tempting. if that’s the case, then perhaps you’ll go with me willingly,” he muses, tail swaying slowly. his fangs glint dangerously when he smirks.

“don’t fight, and no harm will come to them. that, and your secret will be safe with me. honest."

reader doesn’t believe him. she can’t, but she and her friends are so low priority that calling for help would be useless. if the demon army has been as effective as the screaming would lead her to believe, the celestial host has much bigger problems than rescuing a gardener and some lowly maidservants. and with the chance that she’ll be seen through and blamed for every gory death that's happened beyond the walls of the peach groves...

she doesn’t have a choice.

reader slowly, cautiously lowers her barriers, despite the worried cries of the maids behind her. they cower closer together as reader takes a slow step closer to macaque.

with a flick of his wrist, reader is struck by a sleeping spell so potent she falls into macaque's waiting arms like a lead weight. the demon gathers his beloved into his hold with a gentleness that doesn't fit his gory visage.

he sinks into a shadow, leaving the maids to clutch each other and cry at the loss of reader and the near loss of their own lives.

---

reader wakes up days later in the royal bedchambers of the stone palace. she startles at seeing the monkey king and the six-eared macaque laying on either side of her, stripped to just a loose pair of pants each. she herself has been changed to a comfortable silk robe, her own clothing nowhere to be seen.

reader feels a cold sludge in her gut. she scrambles out of the pillow pit, kicking a few into the face of one of her captors as she goes. she checks herself over, looking for bite marks, claw marks, anything to indicate the two demons sharing a bed with her had violated her in any way. she looks, and breathes a heavy sigh.

she finds nothing.

"we figured we'd wait until you were awake to start marking territory," the tired, yet still somehow smug voice of the monkey king chimes from behind her. reader turns to see the demon leveling an amorous look her way. his gold and crimson eyes burn like fire in the low light.

reader ignores him in favor of falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. now that she has a moment to think, her failure has decided to take centerstage; she was the one who let the monkey king into the jade palace, she let him steal the immortal peaches, she's the one who carelessly shared all the gossip that told them when the best time to attack would be, she's to blame for all the lives lost—

"hey. y'know we would've raided heaven even if we hadn't met you, right? it's not your fault," macaque says, propping his head in his hand to look at her. he doesn't have the decency to hide how he's sizing her up, poison purple eyes glowing whilst tracing her curves. reader shrinks into herself a bit more.

"yep. don't feel too bad, peaches. i was never gonna spare any of those bureaucrats in the first place," wukong adds. "and besides, none of those guys cared about you anyway, so why feel bad?"

reader sobs, pressing her hands to her eyes. she knows. she knows how callous the officials could be, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die. it doesn't mean the servants and foot soldiers who were only following orders deserved their fates.

she hears movement, then feels a set of strong, furred arms wrap around her. wukong rests his head on her shoulder. he nuzzles his nose against her neck. she feels his warm breath and the glance of deadly sharp fangs when he speaks.

"they didn't deserve the mercy you seem to think they did."

---

wukong places a seal on reader's powers. what little defense she had against them is gone with the placement of a brand-like marking in between her shoulder blades (and a few more along her shoulders made with his teeth).

reader can't do anything. wukong won't let her leave, and even if she could, the heavenly court will have her executed if she goes back. so, she remains on the monkey king's mountain.

she didn't think she'd share a fate with the precious fruit she'd failed to protect.

[subskz]

RINNIE I’ve got an idea…

Punishing Lino or Hannie with numbing cream.

Like jerking them off with numbing cream, so it’ll feel so good at first since the cream will work as lube, and lubed handjobs are <33 But the cream slowly kicks in and the can’t feel a thing in their precious dicks anymore :(( Then you take your gloves off (bc you obviously don’t want the cream to numb your hands) and you put on a condom for them so the cream doesn’t transfer to you as you ride them. It would be so tortuous for them to see you bouncing on their cock but not being able to feel a single thing! Tease them and tell them how good it feels, and how much you’re clenching down on them, and watch them get frustrated that they can’t feel you. The only thing that’s keeping them hard despite not feeling a thing is the visual, because it’s just so, so hot.

Hannie would absolutely be the first to break down and cry out of the two. He’s pitifully bucking up into you as if that’s gonna help him feel something. He’s gonna be crying his little heart out, telling you that “you’re so mean!” for making him endure this torture. He’ll beg and beg for you to wash the numbing cream off so that he can feel you wrapped around him. But you don’t relent, because this is his punishment after all. He’ll even try to rub his nipples for stimulation or reach behind you to finger himself, but you’re always one step ahead since you already added numbing cream to those areas as well (since you knew he’ll start touching those parts), which makes him cry even harder. But it turns him on so, so much as well, since now he’s really just a dildo for you <33

Lino would be so, so stubborn. He’ll act as if this doesn’t bother him at all. But in just a few more minutes, he’ll start whining, which embarrasses the hell out of him, but at this point, he doesn’t care. Exaggerate your moans a bit so he really gets needy. Like Hannie, he’ll also try bucking up into you, but in the end, it’s futile. Make him watch you use his cock to bring yourself to several orgasms, then after that, you start cleaning up. Was it over already? But he didn’t even get to cum yet! He’ll start protesting and all that for you to come back and help him out, telling you that it was rather rude for you to leave him like this. But you just simply ignore him and go wash yourself up. You’ll probably come out of the bathroom to find the kitty trying to finger himself for some sort of relief, but he just can’t! It doesn’t nearly feel as good as when you do it for him :(

oh this is pure insanity 😵‍💫 what a perfect punishment both of their reactions would be priceless for different reasons. hannie being the easiest to break and lino being one of the hardest to break…but in the end they’re still both reduced to a helpless, whining mess hehe. jerking them off using the cream is so clever too, you let him feel just enough pleasure to bring him close to the edge as you spread the cream w lazy, slippery strokes, then suddenly the numbness begins to kick in and any build into his climax fizzles out. the fun’s over for him but just starting for you~

the sight of jisung working so hard to try and get himself to feel something, thrusting like an animal w the most adorable, frustrated, look on his face and watery eyes would be to die for 😽 the most agonizing part abt it is that the numbing cream doesn’t completely leave him senseless, but it’s just effective enough that he can’t get any real pleasure from it…there’s none of your wetness or softness that he aches for, all he can feel is the faint clench of your walls around his numb dick that tells him how good you’re feeling using him like a toy. and if that isn’t enough, the way you exaggerate your moans to taunt him makes him so crazy with need, he’d absolutely start crying ): esp after trying to get himself off w his nipples as a last resort, only for it to break him down further bc he just feels so pathetic and helpless doing everything he csn without gaining any relief. he babbles out apologies through all his sobbing, but at that point it’s too late! all he can do now is take his punishment like a good boy and watch at your mercy as you ride him w tears streaming down his face. and maybeee if he behaves enough, you’ll cup his wet cheeks and give him some kisses, murmuring to him that he should he thankful that he gets to make you feel so good <3

a punishment where lino feels nothing at all would be his absolute nightmare…no pain or pleasure, just being used like a pretty little plaything for your satisfaction~ he’s so stubborn but at the same time so impatient. at first he tries playing it off by mocking you bc how is fucking him a punishment? he watches w the cheekiest grin as you pump his dick, but he can only act smug for so long before it sets in that you’re 100% set on not letting this spoiled brat get off today <3 his whines would be so pretty…starting off kinda quiet and soft like “are you serious? this isn’t fair” w the hopes that’ll be enough to win you over, but his voice gets progressively needier the more you grind your hips down against him, rolling your body in a way that he knows would make his mind melt if only he could feel it. and degrading him on top of that bc unlike jisung, he refuses to apologize…taunting him for only being able to last this long when his dick is numb, saying he’s only useful as your fucktoy <3 he’d definitely get defiant and try thrusting up into you, but it just adds to the humiliation more when he doesn’t get an ounce of stimulation from it. catching him trying to finger himself afterwards would be so hot hehe poor kitty isn’t used to having to do it all himself…depending on how far gone he is you might just get to watch him push his fingers in an out of himself pitifully as he begs so sweetly for you to help him out

[lavendertales]

this is me formally asking for a size difference joel x reader drabble because i am short and this might make my brain break if i read it but in the best wayyyyyyyy

ohhhh babe I got you! I hope this is more or less what you had in mind🙈🥰

shameless—Joel Miller x f!reader**

word count: 593

warnings: smut, size difference as requested (no other description of reader other than the fact she's shorter than Joel, Joel has BDE. literally.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @joelmjller

One thing about Joel Miller, he’s a determined man.

Once he sets his mind to something, he’ll achieve it no matter what.

Being with you is no different. There’s something inherently thrilling about the way he’s all over you, the way he’s so protective of you and the way he goes absolutely feral knowing that on his darkest days, when he barely feels like himself, he gets to come home to you and how you allow him to consume you in all the ways his heart desires.

Sometimes he’s sweet and tender, going down on your for hours, praising you endlessly as he worships your body’s beauty, and sometimes he’s rough and wild, kneading your flesh between his calloused fingers as he mercilessly pounded into you till your cheeks were all red.

You liked both sides of him, and you couldn’t decide which one was your favorite. Joel himself was your favorite thing overall. That much you could tell.

And you could tell that one of Joel’s favorite things was the way he towered over you, the way you fit in his arms with such ease, the way your body seemed to compliment his in so many ways.

Tonight it’s one of those times when he takes his time, though he may be impatient. He’s just made you come in his mouth and on his fingers already, twice, and he knows you’re more than ready to take him in. But even with all that preparation, the first push in, that first slide of his cock inside you, it’s going to be a tight fit no matter what.

Just the idea alone makes him feral, nearly blinded by desire.

You can barely keep your moans and gasps under control, your eyes lustfully watching as he strokes and guides himself to your entrance. You hold your breath, gulping in anticipation, and then the earth-shattering moment of him giving that first thrust finally arriving and overwhelming you both.

“Oh shit,” you gasp.

The more Joel pushes past your warm, slick walls, the more ecstasy washes over you. Your head falls backwards against the pillow as Joel watches, absolutely mesmerized, the way you take him in. all of him, as he is, thick and girthy and oh, so full with you.

 “You’re doing good, darlin’,” he breathes, throat dry and yet oddly enough, mouth filled with saliva. “You’re doing so good, takin’ all of me in.”

“Fuck, Joel…”

He gives a few experimental thrusts, rolling his hips at just the right angle. It’s a wonder he can still breathe, honestly; you always manage to knock the air out of his lungs with every sound you make, every touch, every gaze of yours, each one deadlier and sultrier than the last.

 Then he starts to really move; he simply plows into you, holding your legs over his shoulders – even if your feet barely touch them. He watches in a trance the way your tits bounce, the way your swollen pussy swallows his cock whole, and he nearly chokes on thin air and his own saliva.

“Pretty darlin’ –“he mutters. “So fuckin’ pretty – when you take me like this – s’good for me – “

After a while, words flee from your mind and mouth alike, the sole one you’re able to produce is Joel. You chant his name repeatedly when you come all over him and squeeze his cock trap shut inside of you, triggering his orgasm as well.

Yeah, Joel loves towering over you, and he sure as hell loves fitting himself into you with every chance he gets.

[thewulf]

Here For You || JJ Maybank

Summary: Request - could you write a jj maybank and sister where she has a panic attack and he helps?

A/N - Ahhh I just cannot get enough of a good old hurt/comfort. This was a little different of a write since its an X sister! insert but I had a really good time writing it. A little shorter than usual but I really like it! Thanks for the request @obxlover14

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

TW: Talks of Breakdowns, anxiety, overwhelming feelings etc.

It always happened when you least expected. The panic came over in a massive wave that engulfed your entirety seemingly out of nowhere. You’d been stressing out a little lately. Getting older meant decisions had to be made. Were you going to try and go to college? Or were you simply going to stay on the island and find weird jobs after graduating high school being the disappointment your dad expected from you? These thoughts consumed you whole making it hard to think of anything else. You started ruminating on it and before you knew it hot tears were streaming down your face.

It usually didn’t get this bad. You were normally able to stop you brain from going this far down the spiral it so often wanted to. You were a complete and utter mess who hid it well from the others. Ever since your mother left nearly ten years ago your father become more and more abusive as the years ticked on. Attributing that to your anxiety all you wanted to do was get the hell out. You knew JJ wanted to as well and he could. He turned eighteen a few months ago. But he waited around for you. Far too terrified at the thought of leaving you alone with your shared father. If you could even call him that anymore.

You found a wall in the hallway leading up to the kitchen and leaned back on it. Sliding down you brought your knees in close to your chest trying to huddle in on yourself. Bringing your hands up your tried to rub the anxiety away from your face to no avail. You tried your normal methods of calming down but was coming up devastatingly short. Tears kept slipping out of your eyes as your tried to slow your every increasing heart rate. Thank God your father was at work, you couldn’t imagine the ass beating that would come from a breakdown. Only further deteriorating your already rapidly declining mental state.

Not having a clue how long you were sitting there you tried your best counting back from a hundred. Trying to ground yourself in the moment. But you just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. You kept losing track and having to restart after your mind started playing those normal tricks on you.

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder breaking you from the trance you were seemingly locked in on. Head snapping around you met the familiar blue eyes of your older brother. Normally happy go lucky but a growing concern clouded his vision as he looked you over.

He grabbed at the hand that was grabbing at your own face, prying it away from its grasp, “Hey kid, there you are.” His smile was anything but real but he was trying his best to get you comfortable. It wasn’t all the often he came home to you cowering in on yourself on the floor unresponsive to his calls.

“I’m sorry.” You looked at him with wide eyes as you came back to the present. How long were you sitting there? A few seconds? Minutes? Hours? You hadn’t a damn clue.

He ignored you continuing, “Are you okay? I called out for you a few times.” He looked you over only giving a soft sigh once he concluded you were physically fine. Mentally he hadn’t any idea what you were going through.

You nodded before looking away. Suddenly embarrassed by your episode, “I’m okay JJ.” You voice rasped out sounding like it hadn’t been used in weeks. Were you yelling? Why did it sound so hoarse?

“That’s not very believable kid.” He sat down next to you letting you know he wasn’t planning on going anywhere until you stated speaking. As gently as JJ could manage he brushed your hair out of your face.

“Well, you better believe it.” You offered a rather pathetic smile. Again, not terrible believable and JJ clocked it.

“Come on, spill.” He spoke waiting on your response.

You looked him over. He didn’t look very thrilled with you. It was more out of concern than anything else, but it still made you terribly embarrassed. It seemed so pathetic, especially when you tried to explain it out loud.

“I’m just overwhelmed J.” You sighed in defeat not really wanting to go into much more detail.

He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly as if trying to read your cryptic mind. Sure he was your sibling but he wasn’t a miracle worker. He didn’t know the ins and outs of what kept your mind racing, “What about?”

“The future.” You answered honestly not trying to hide it from it. He’d get the answer he wanted from you anyway.

He gave you the first genuine smile of the afternoon, “You’re only a Junior. You’ve got some time to figure it out.”

You shook your head, “Applications are due soon. I don’t even know if I want to go to college. What will I do there? I can’t waste any time there. Don’t have the money too…” You began to babble.

He placed a grounding hand on your shoulder, “Relax, Y/N.”

“I can’t JJ!” You snapped. Eyes wide. You rarely yelled at your older brother. You knew better.

He ignored your outburst once again and placed a second hand on your other shoulder, “I need you to breathe after me. Alright?”

You nodded watching him closely. Mimicking his actions slowly. Breathing in for a second longer than you wanted and out. Copying him for a few minutes did actually help as your breathing slowed which also dropped your heartrate.

A few more tears slipped down your face as you calmed down. Thank goodness for your older brother being able to break you from the entrapment of your mind. After one last shaky breath your eyes met his once again. He looked nervous. It was an expression your rarely, if ever, saw on your older brother and you were sure it was because of you. What a time to have a mental fucking breakdown.

“I’m sorry J.” You breathed out in more of a whisper once again embarrassed by your very own whisper.

He shook his head, “Don’t say sorry. That’s what I’m here for kid.” Knowing that you were somewhat okay he reached over and wrapped you into his arm giving you one big squeeze. JJ adored you, his younger sister by a few years. See, you were the best of the Maybank��s. As kind as they came and smarter than ever. JJ knew he had to get you off this island one way or another. After seeing you so panic stricken over everything JJ knew it wasn’t a matter of it but when. You were too good for this island. Bound for so much more even if you didn’t know it yet. JJ did.

You nodded into his shoulder not daring to say another word knowing it’d come out a shaky mess. It was nice letting yourself feel the comfort from somebody you loved and adored. JJ might not have known it but you always looked up to him. He was never afraid to speak his mind, make new friends, go on crazy adventures. He was the opposite of you and you adored that about him. He was so unashamed to be himself. It did get him into trouble more than you liked to admit.

He spoke up breaking you out of your quiet stupor once more, “You don’t have to be scared. That’s what I’m here. That’s what the pogues are here for. We’re here to talk, okay?”

You nodded knowing you would never actually take him seriously. It wasn’t your place to bother them with sixteen-year-old problems. They had their own shit to deal with. Own people to please.

“Hey, I’m serious.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. He wouldn’t take that as an answer though.

“Look at me kid.” He said more seriously than he had in this entire interaction with him.

You did as he said and waited.

“You’ve got to speak to me. Talk to me. Or somebody. You can’t let these emotions bottle up anymore. It’s okay if you’ve got to talk about it. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze letting you know he was there for you, always.

When you didn’t speak he finished, “I’m here for you kid.”

“I love you J.”

His smile reached his eyes, “I love you too kiddo. Forever and always. But you know that.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[ohbloggerimagines]

Hello! How are you? I hope your day is going swell :)

I love your possessive/protective!Rocket X Reader headcanons! The subconscious actions of him trying to keep her safe are so CUTE

Would I be able to request a oneshot of when the Guardians were out, Rocket noticed someone, or a group, staring at (Y/N), so he walked behind her, blocking their view of her ass.

Maybe he pat her hip/ass, something that was a normal thing between Rocket and (Y/N), so she just instinctively scratches behind his ears while Rocket glares or smirks at the stranger/s.

i feel like i could've done better with this one so i might end up redoing it ;;

also i refuse to belive gamora and peter are no longer together so just believe they are ! ill die on that hill

pairing: rocket raccoon x fem!reader

word count: 558

tags: gotg, rocket raccoon x reader, fem! reader, possesive rocket

“Rocky!” You shouted happily, pointing to one of the many shops within Contraxia, almost swooning over the handmade beanies being sold. “The hell you need one of those for? I can make you one! Besides, you get one every time we come here!” He grumbled, waving the shop off and making you groan and roll your eyes. 

You and the Guardians needed a break, deciding to stop off at your favorite icy planets for a few drinks. It was pretty packed that day, Rocket making sure you stayed close to him and the group in general with all the idiots and pickpocketers around. 

Passing the Iron Lotus, you watched Peter’s wandering eyes almost get slapped out of their sockets by Gamora, making you and Mantis snicker. You two were good friends, being able to have girl talk without being judged was nice. You stepped a little ahead Rocket, lightly bumping Mantis and striking up conversation about how cold it was, and all the little things you two definitely needed to buy. 

“I saw this super cute jacket last time we were here, hopefully I can find it before we go. It would look so good on you!” You conversed with her, “You think? We must find it later!” Mantis beamed, excited to hang out with you. 

Rocket’s head was on a swivel, watching every single person that walked by or even those who stood at the shops. He was not taking any chances with idiots this time. 

There were so many..men everywhere. His nerves were on edge.

Finally, the crew made it to their favorite hole in the wall bar, the Whistling Outpost. Quant enough that nothing too crazy went on, but it was never a dull vibe inside. There was a line outside the door, a guard checking everyone's name on his tablet to make sure they weren’t letting in any stowaways or general freaks. 

Peter and Gamora were in the front, behind them was Drax and Nebula, followed by you and Mantis still chattering away, with a very attached raccoon at your side. 

He could feel the eyes not only on him but on you. Rocket’s eyes scanned around slowly to find the idiot who thought it was a good idea to stare at what was his. There was a group of them, dirty, drunk, and daring, staring and pointing while making quiet suggestive comments the keen raccoon could hear. Rocket decided not to make a big deal tonight, he just wanted to relax..

Instead, he slyly turned his body to face you, blocking their view of your ass and anything else they might want to stare at, creating a barrier but not making too much of an issue. He glanced over at the group, noticing a slight change in their stature. Rocket gently tapped your ass, his paw sliding to your belt loop and hooking his finger through it to hang on to you. 

You felt his comforting touch and without missing a beat you glanced down at him and scratched lightly behind his ear, smiling at him before going back to talking Mantis’ ear off.

Rocket grinned, turning back to the drunken group, taunting them with his smirk. The look of defeat on their faces was enough for him to enjoy it.

No one got to look at you when he was around.

[writtenbyrinnie]

kenshin | crimson˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

★彡kenshin x fem!reader

★彡word count: 1,431!

★彡unhealthy relationship, knife injury, eroguro, kenshin being his usual posessive self ٩( ᐛ )و and lots of blood lol

★彡 you 🫵🏻 try to go back to ur village after breaking up with kenshin (for plot #trusttt) but things dont go as planned...>:3

kenshin's normally stoic demeanor breaks completely at your words. his hand grasping your chin squeezes it slightly, enough to cause you to wince.

".. think i may have misheard you, my love. what did you say?" he says, his voice low and snarky.

"i...i-.." you grit your teeth, feeling uneasy from the start.

"i have to return to my village..."

his brows knitted at your words as his grip on you tightened further. despite the pain he was causing you, he was unable to control himself.

"..no, you dont. tell me why you're lying." he hissed, eyes narrowing as he took in your expression.

"im not lying. i need to return, and i won't be back once i do so." you replied, unable to meet his icy glare. 

he shook his head at your words. you could feel the anger building in his tone as he spoke, his voice cold and cruel.

"no. i forbid it. you aren't leaving."

"kenshin... please don't make this harder than it has to be... i already told you, we're done..." sighing with discomfort, you felt a familiar anxiety creeping up your back again. your words weren't getting to him at all.

"i don't think you understand. we're never done... you belong to me. and i don't permit you to leave. if you even attempt to leave, i will hunt you down. there's nowhere in this world you can go where i won't find you." he growled, forcing you to meet his gaze.

it was no use trying to reason with a madman. whatever this 'relationship' of yours was, it was nowhere near healthy or stable. this kind of love was destined to destroy you both. were you going to let it? after building up the courage to go against him, were you going to go back to those arms?

hesitantly, you pulled out the small knife carefully hidden in your sleeve; it was the one sasuke gave as a last resort. the same one you hoped you wouldn't have to use.

he looked down at the knife, utterly unbothered by the threat. instead of taking a step back, he stepped forward, pressing himself against the tip and letting it pierce the fabric and his skin slightly.

"..is that meant to scare me?" he says, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a wicked smirk.

"k-kenshin..." you stared with your eyes wide, unable to move as he practically trapped you against the wall with how close he had gotten.

barely noticing the tiny prick of pain it made in his skin, he looked up at your scared expression, his eyes burning angrily.

"what? you're having second thoughts?"

kenshin laughed at your fear. 

"you were so bold a minute ago. if you're going to threaten me, do it properly, woman. or are you not able to follow through?"

a few drops of blood stained his kimono.

"just let me go...i dont want this-..."

he brought a hand up and gripped the knife in your hands, his hand bleeding due to the sharp edge of the knife cutting into his palm. he dared to lean even closer to your face, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to break this pretty little wrist of yours? it seems you've forgotten... im your lord, you belong to me. there's no way ill let you go anywhere."

the sleeves of kenshins kimono stained crimson as he hissed, the slit in his hand and chest deepening as you continued to struggle against his powerful grip.

ignoring the pain, his eyes burned with anger. even you could see the crazed look in them.

"drop the knife."

he commanded. his tone hard like steel.

with a scowl, he grabbed the weapon from your hand, tossing it aside. pulling your hand up to his chest and using it to press against his wound. he brought his face even closer to yours, his eyes burning as he looked at you.

"...the more you struggle, the worse it will be for you. stop it."

the warm, coppery liquid trickled down onto your hands as you flinched with a mix of fear and disgust. 

his eyes narrowed as he looked down at your frightened expression. seeing your hands stained with his blood and your trembling form ignited something within him. gripping tight around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, his lips crashed down against yours in a desperate, possessive kiss.

he pressed you harder into the wall, molding his body against yours, his blood staining your clothes. he broke the kiss long enough to speak, his hot breath fanning against your skin. "you... aren't going anywhere..."

kenshin's eyelids had begun to feel a tad bit heavier as time passed, due to his blood loss. staring at your crimson stained clothes in fear, you yelled.

"this is so much blood...kenshin! we need to-.." 

you tried reaching over to the bandages, only to get stopped by kenshin himself. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against himself and refusing to let you go. his grip tight around your body as he buried his face into your shoulder.

his voice was low and pained, as he spoke.

"i don't care."

he mumbled into your neck.

"stay. don't leave me."

you looked down, upset and worried sick for him, but also touched by his words. your resolve broke down as you gently placed a hand on his cheek, smearing the blood around as you caressed it.

"i won't leave...just...let me patch you up, please..?" you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

leaning into your touch against his cheek, he closed his eyes at the feeling. nodding slowly as he struggled to steady his breathing.

"...fine, just don't leave my sight."

he let out a low, pained huff as he reluctantly let go of you with one arm, allowing you some room to move.

as you went about your work, bandaging up his hand and putting pressure on his chest, he kept his body pressed tight against yours, his breath hot on your shoulder as he leaned his head down, nuzzling his face against you as he tried to control his need to pull you even closer.

"i can't let you go. please don't ask me to..." he muttered, his voice tight and gravelly.

the slit on his chest was pretty deep, making the subcutaneous fat layer underneath visible to you. crimson gushed out continuously as you helplessly kept applying pressure to slow it down.

kenshin grunted in pain, gripping your shoulders tightly. he took a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm. 

despite the pain, the close proximity of your body, combined with the sight of you covered in his blood, was doing things to him...

he leaned his head back against the wall, hissing between clenched teeth. his hands, gripping your shoulders, moved down to your hips, grasping tight enough to leave bruises on your soft skin. the pain and feeling of your hands touching his wound was almost more pleasurable than it was painful.

despite the fact that it was his blood staining your skin and clothes, he couldn't help but find the sight quite pleasant. all he could focus on was your hands on his skin, touching his body, and pressing into his wound. the pain... and the pleasure...were mixing together.

soon enough, his breathing slowly returned to normal as he glanced down at his chest. the bleeding had stopped, thanks to you. he looked up at you, examining your face and taking in the sight of you covered in blood. he pulled you closer against his body, completely ignoring the fact that both of you were covered in his blood.

"..you look beautiful."

that wicked smile of his, accompanied by a compliment, had your heart speeding up again. "youre sick in the head..."

kenshin laughed at your words, his eyes still roaming all over your face and body. pulling you even closer to him, he let his lips graze along your neck, tasting his own blood on your delicate skin.

he brought a hand up and grasped your chin, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eye. "i may be sick... but so are you, my love. you think I didn't notice?"

he pressed his body against yours, holding you captive.

"you love the feeling of my blood on you, don't you? you get excited just thinking of how it proves my body belongs to you."

he leaned in closer, his lips next to your ears.

"admit it."

really enjoyed writing this hehe :33333 i was looking forward to writing a eroguro-y? piece after seeing the love on my most recent drawing (tysm!!🌷) and kenshin seemed like a fitting character!

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART ELEVEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You try to figure out your feelings for Jack and realize it's not a smart move to do so while drunk and flirting with him, when he thinks things are improving, he gets a harsh evidence things aren't just as easy as he thought

(this is the eleventh chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO TEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, sexual tension, more fluff because Wyatt is the sweetest kid in the world, bitchy mother-in-law, angst, sad!jack, mom!reader

A/N: Hi besties, I know it's been a while since we've seen our cowboy, and well, I hope you enjoy it!!! I know I did because I can't resist this mf, he's just perfect even if he's a broken sad cowboy 😭🤠

4k words

Jack's heart was beating probably too fast in his chest, it hammered against his rib cage but he didn't care. He was feeling like a million bucks, as he was finally getting some crumbles of your love. Nothing more than crumbles, but it was already enough for him, better than suffering with your despise and indifference. In a short span of minutes you two had almost kissed - if it weren't for his former mother-in-law, and you had also referred to Wyatt as your son. Your as in him and yours, and that couldn't make him happier at that moment, it might have seemed something small, but it made the difference in that cowboy's old broken heart, it was like the walls you built were falling down and that he could approach you, even if it wasn't in a romantic way, he still felt satisfied to be around you as friends, at least he could talk to you without having to break the ice all the time, he touch you - small hugs, occasional hand holding - and though he yearned for more, it was the best he would get after everything he'd done, so it was good, he'd rather torture himself by having his family close without actually being able to claim them as his, than suffer completely alone like he'd done for the past years.

He smiled at you, seeing how your cheeks were flushed because of the alcohol and patted his pocket finally finding the car keys and handing them to you 

"Go ahead sugar, you're less drunk than I am, you should be driving" he winked at you and chuckled as you widened your eyes the moment you grabbed the Bronco keys. Ever since you first started dating Jack, you dreamed of driving his Bronco, but as the cocky asshole he often was, he never let you - or anyone else really - drive his car. There were some things Jack was just so territorial and wouldn't let anyone to lie their hands on, and well, you were also one of those things once. Jack was possessive of you, he liked showing people you were his and just his, the way he would hold you, kiss you and make everyone else see who you belonged to. 

And in your drunken state as you two exited the bar, you kinda wished Jack would do it again. Just a few minutes ago you were about to kiss each other and now he watched you, and you watched him back, staring into his eyes, getting lost in them, and taking a real look at your Jack…. He was so handsome, his beautiful side profile was enough to make you weak at the knees, his sharp jawline always so smooth as he kept his beard shaved and his mustache trimmed. Any other man would look stupid with Jack's looks, but your cowboy… he was something else. 

"What?" He asked you, grinning with that devilish smile as you wouldn't stop staring 

"I-" you began to talk but you had a better idea - well, not really a better idea, rather a drunk idea - and took the hat off his head, chuckling at how cute his messy hair looked and put it on your head. 

Jack was shocked for a split second. Were you flirting with him? 

"Did you forget about the cowboy hat rule, sugar?" He raised his eyebrow at you and before you could answer, you tripped and nearly fell, but Jack immediately wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him. Maybe you weren't less drunk than he was after all, so it was safer if you two just got a cab to your mom's.

Leaving the bar and waiting for a cab on the sidewalk wasn't the greatest idea either, the wind was howling and you were shivering, and both you and Jack knew that if it weren't for Wyatt, the wisest option would be getting a fancy hotel room and spending the night. 

If you hadn't drunk as much as you did that night, you would be probably censoring yourself for having those shameless thoughts about him, giggling at the shit he said, pretending you didn't notice you were still clinging to him even after you got your balance back, after all, you were wearing his hat, for crying out loud! He was the same man who didn't accept your pregnancy, that kicked you out of your home and abandoned you to raise your baby alone, and once he came back, he just brought chaos back into your life, for several times he'd hurt you, told you cruel things and even threatened to take your son away from you. It was so wrong to behave like that, and a part of your brain kept repeating that over and over, while the other part seemed to only listen to your heart, taking you back to your sweetest and hottest memories you had shared at that same bar and in those hotel rooms.It would be easier if you could just blame it on the booze, as if having a few too many changed everything about your personality and made you forget about all the pain Jack caused you. But at the same time, it felt like you were in the presence of your Jack, the cowboy you loved, the one that was so sweet, flirty and gentle with you. The man that was a little cocky at first but he also made you feel like the only girl in the world, the one who would ravish you in bed and make your legs shake but would also hold you and cuddle you until you fell asleep. You two had an awkward encounter at first, you went on a date with your new boyfriend and Jack was waiting for his own date, you'd been so jealous of him and if you wondered if he'd been jealous of you, now you were sure of it, and that made you feel pretty good about yourself. 

Perhaps it was the way Jack was humiliated by the girl he was supposed to have a date with, the one that revealed herself to be another agent and nothing more, or maybe how he was so honest about the disaster he called his last mission and how things escalated from a fun, drunk conversation, into a confession of dark thoughts Jack didn't have the courage to share with anyone, not even his therapist. All that helped you to see your sweet old cowboy in those man's cold eyes, and when you stared into them, you realized they weren't cold anymore, they were warm and soft and that was when you were sure your Jack was back. 

ou were just so tired of restricting yourself all the time, you were also tired of people restricting you as well, always talking about how bad Jack Daniels was and how you shouldn't let him in. It was your mom, your friends, even Frankie had told you Jack was a dick, and though you knew they were all correct, you felt tired of being reminded of that the entire time, at least your own thoughts were private and in them you could allow yourself to surrender completely to your cowboy, because God knew that if he tried to make any move on you, you'd let him. 

Instead, you felt when his suit jacket was placed over your shoulders and he smiled down at you "don't want you to freeze, sugar" he winked as now you were wearing his jacket, his hat and you kept your arm wrapped tight around his waist, and you felt lucky that despite everything, Jack was still a gentleman, because any other guy would have interpreted all those signs wrong - actually correct, because you did want it - but he knew you'd had too much alcohol for that, even if he knew that once you sobered up he would've missed his chance of having you again. 

He opened the door so you would get in the cab and immediately joined you, giving your mother's address to the driver. You smiled and decided you wouldn't fight your urges, not that night, feeling safe knowing Jack would respect your boundaries and you wouldn't do anything that would hurt your boyfriend - that's what you told yourself at least - and as soon as Jack sat next to you, you wrapped your arm around him and rested against his chest. You were aware of how ridiculous you probably looked, a cowboy hat, a jacket that was way too big for you, and snuggling the man you swore you hated just a day before. Jack was caught by surprise, but smiled softly as he wrapped his arm around your body, stroking your back up and down. 

"Sugar, I was thinking about our little boy's birthday, and I would like to throw him a party on our ranch" he cleared his throat "well, my ranch, but it's gonna be yours too one day, you know, when I-" 

"Don't say that Jack" you asked him, looking into his eyes, "please… I have something to ask you" you bit your lips 

"Anything you want, sugar" 

"Don't kill yourself on another mission, Jack, please. You have our son, and our son needs his daddy too" 

Jack's heart melted at your lovely words, he'd longed to be accepted into the family just like that and now it was finally happening. 

"I won't, sugar… I got our family to take care of, even if you don't want me, you're still my responsibility and I'll make sure you're safe" his hand went for your face caressing your soft skin so gently, appreciating how it felt under his rough fingertips, you closed your eyes, leaning towards his touch and gently placing your lips on his chin, as you spread a trail of soft kisses all over his jawline before getting to his lips. Jack's breath got caught in his chest, his body overflowing with love as his hands squeezed you tighter against him, getting ready to deepen the kiss when the driver suddenly pulled up the car. 

"We're here" the man announced which quickly snapped the two of you out of the haze you were both deep into. 

You cleared your throat and blushed and Jack licked his lips, getting his wallet and paying for the ride. 

He helped out of the car and kept his hand on the small of your back, escorting you, like the southern gentleman he was. You two entered the building and took the elevator and suddenly you could see Jack tensing up. It was no secret your mom hated him, from the very beginning, even before things went to shit between the two of you. There was something she just couldn't stand about him, maybe the fact he was older, or that he'd been married before, or his manners - despite the fact Jack was a polite man, she still didn't think it was enough. She couldn't stand him and he reciprocated the feeling. During his first marriage, he could never understand all those mother-in-law jokes and why people often said they were as bad as they often did. His first wife's mom was a delight, a sweet woman who treated Jack like a son.

No wonder he kept in touch with her through all the years after his sweetheart passed away, until her lovely mother joined her beloved daughter in heaven; but it was your mom that made Jack learn why so many people talked about mother-in-laws in such a derogatory way. She hated Jack, she did from the start, and he had no other option than to accept and try his hardest to ignore her constant offenses and provocations. So now, he didn't even want to think of what your mom thought of him after Wyatt was born. 

As if you read Jack's thoughts, you touched his cheek, making him look at you 

"It's alright cowboy, if she starts acting out, we'll just leave, don't worry" you assured him and took a deep breath and got yourself back together as the doors opened and you walked to your mom's apartment. 

She'd left the door unlocked - something Whiskey strongly disapproved of for safety matters, of course, after all he was an agent and knew people should be way more careful than they were - and the two of you walked inside. Your mom had Wyatt on her lap, he sniffed as she tried wiping his tears, but his teary eyes were enough evidence she wasn't able to succeed.

"What happened baby?" You rushed to him, a sad expression immediately took your face as your heart tightened in your chest to see your little boy so upset. Wyatt jumped off his grandma's lap, widening eyes and a growing smile on his handsome little face

"Mama! Dada!" He squealed happily and ran towards you and Jack, who knelt just beside you and also opened his arms to welcome him. Wyatt ran to the two of you, feeling the warmth of the safety in being with both his parents, snuggling you both as best as his little arms could reach before looking at you with amusement and adoration at the sight of you with the hat on "cowboy hat mama! Like dada and mine!" He said happily and pointed at the stetson you'd stolen from Jack and grabbed it, placing it on your son's head seeing the happiness in his little eyes.

Jack chuckled and picked him up "well it ain't my favorite little cowboy?" He felt the way Wyatt's arms wrapped around his neck and his heart broke a little to think he could have that every day after coming back from work "were you nice to grandma?" Wyatt saw as his dada raised his eyebrow and immediately nodded, he had behaved well even if grandma's house wasn't fun. Whiskey smiled and tickled his tummy, earning the most lovely giggles from his little boy. 

Your mom shot you the dirtiest look the moment she caught Jack walking into the apartment, but you couldn't care less about it, so you turned your back to her and gave your son attention. 

"What happened to you, love? Grandma said you were upset?" You tilted your head curious to know what could've possibly bothered your son. 

Wyatt looked down and then at his grandma again, unsure if he should say anything at all or not. Jack gently wiped a single tear that ran down his son's beautiful face "it's okay Wyatt, sometimes cowboys get sad too, it ain't a shame to cry, but we can't make our mamas worried, cowboy mamas don't like to be worried about their little cowboys…" he tried reasoning his son, who let out a small giggle at his dad's fun words. 

"Bad dweam mama. Mama was gone and dada was gone" he explained "told gwandma but gwandma said I have no dada because dada no wove Wyatt" 

Jack closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying his best to keep his anger in check, as he shot daggers at his former mother-in-law. He couldn't believe that old bitch had the nerve to say that. Yes, Jack had been a shitty father for the first years of his son's life, but he was back in the picture and there wasn't anyone that old broken cowboy loved more than his son, and his son's mother.

He gently held his son's chin, finding fascinating the contrast between his big, calloused hands on his son's perfect, small face. Jack's thumb stroked his cheek 

"Your dada loves you very much Wyatt. More than anything in the world, and I know I wasn't around for you and mama and that made mama sad, but I'll always be with you two" he pecked his son's forehead and threw his small blanket over his back. Jack's arm snaked around your waist pulling you closer "let's get the two of you home" he informed, ignoring your mom who was speechless to see you so cozy next to him. Wyatt snuggled his dad's neck and closed his eyes, his heart was warm with love and reassurance. 

                         •••

As the three of you walked into your apartment, Wyatt was deeply asleep in his father's arms. You smiled to see how Wyatt still his jammies under the blanket and how quick he was able to calm down thanks to Jack. He followed your instructions to tuck Wyatt in and as soon as he came back, with his stetson in hands, you handed him a glass of water "I'm really sorry about my mom… I didn't know she would say something like that. She doesn't like you obviously, but we just always avoided talking about a father figure to Wyatt so we wouldn't break his little heart" Jack nodded in silence "I told her you were back in the picture and that you and I were working to be on good terms, you know, co-parent and be friends… She said it was a bad idea but didn't say anything else, I just didn't think she would be mean to the point of telling her own grandson this shit" you sniffed and Jack pulled you into a tight hug. His hands ran up and down your back, resting his chin on your head 

"It's alright sugar, none of this is your fault. You've been perfect from day one. You've been perfect to me and you were the best girlfriend in the world and you would've been the best wife too, if I hadn't screwed things up… I was so scared, I know it doesn't justify and it never will, but I was scared of trying to build a family and losing it like the first time. I was so deep in my own fears that I hadn't realized I was about to make the worst mistake of my life. I'm really sorry I did this to you, because you had nothing but love to offer me, while I offered you the second place because I was too blind by my grief, but now I see, now that I'm going to therapy, that I'm trying to fix myself, I see that I was scared of letting go of her, of her memory, I was scared I was going to betray her. Until I finally saw that was madness, sugar, because she is gone, she's a beautiful memory and I'll always carry her and our son in a part of my heart, but they belong in the past. I see now you're the love of my life, you've always been, I was just too blind to see it, and I lost you, but I promise I won't grieve you, I'll be here, strong and alive for you and Wyatt, if there's ever a chance of a future with you, even if all I get is visiting on weekends I'll still take it. Nothing will ever change the monstrous thing I did to you, but I want you to know I regret it for the rest of my life" 

Your breath was shaking as you look up at him, you could feel the emotion in his voice, the truth in them and the tears in his eyes. 

"Stay tonight Jack, please… not to have sex, but I want you here" it was all you could offer him and it was already a big deal, the two of you knew it and he only nodded happily, his hand caressing your skin.

"I'll stay for as long as you want me sugar…"

                            •••

In the early morning, you woke up to find yourself alone in bed. Jack took his southern manners to the letter and after you fell asleep in his arms, he changed to the couch, so he wouldn't make you uncomfortable. You sighed as your head pounded after drinking so hard the night before, sighing as you remembered everything that went on. The things you shouldn't have done, for example flirt with your ex the whole time, kiss him and wearing his hat and especially ask him to stay the night, because now you'd have to deal with the fact the man was humming happily in your kitchen making you breakfast as a loving husband would. 

You got out of bed and groaned in pain once more, cursing under your breath as you spotted a glass of water and an aspirin. Fuck, Jack was making it very hard for you to hate him. 

The man, on the other hand, was pouring his heart into the meal he was preparing. There were two things little Jack Daniela learned from his mama: breakfast was the most important meal of the day and that the best ingredient one could add is love.

The moment he saw you walking inside the kitchen, his face lit up, glad to know Wyatt was still deeply asleep, so he would have some time alone with you. He placed the frying pan down, flipping the last pancake and walked to you. 

"Morning, sugar" he said in a happy voice as he got closer and leaned in to kiss your lips, but you immediately turned your face away, avoiding his kiss as you looked down. 

"Listen Jack, we need to talk… I'm sorry about last night, I know I led you the wrong way, I flirted and kissed but it was wrong and it shouldn't have happened" you said without much conviction in your voice, as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him, so you cleared your throat and continued "we can't be together, I know you're trying, Jack, you're becoming a better man, but I have a boyfriend now and you will always be the man who abandoned me and our son" you sighed sadly "I was just giving into my desires…"

Jack immediately gripped your hips, pulling you closer, a desperate look on his face, he was hurt and you could see it in his eyes 

"Desire, that's the right word, sugar. You desire me, you want me, why do you still deny it? We love each other" he said, stroking your cheek, swallowing hard and giving you the saddest eyes you'd ever seen. "We can be a happy family… you, me, our son and if you want to we can even try for a little girl, I promise I'll be around, I want to be a husband to you and a father to our son…"

"You're out of your mind, Jack, I would never be with you again, I would never be crazy to let you get me pregnant again! You made me go away! You told me to get rid of my son! I've fallen for you once, but I won't anymore. Yes, I had desire for you, because you are the kind of guy that's good for a drunk fuck and nothing else, Jack. I had to learn the hard way guys like you are meant to be fucked and guys like Frankie are meant to be married"

Jack immediately let go of your body, looking down in shame and sniffed, nodding and turning his back to you. Jack's pride was hurt, and his heart was shattered. He knew you would take your distance once you sobered up, but he didn't think you would regress so much. You were back at fighting and accusing each other, and he was tired of that. 

"Mama! Dada!" Wyatt squealed happily as he watched his mommy and daddy in the kitchen, his small tummy growling with hunger at the delicious smell. 

"Dada, you made pancakes for me? Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He squealed adorably and jumped into Jack's arms, who held his son tight against his chest, snuggling him, and pecked his son's cheek gently, you knew Jack was a fearless man when he was on his missions, but now, he avoided staring at you, so you wouldn't see the tears that threatened to spill out of his beautiful chocolate brown eyes. 

You didn't even know why you'd said that, but you needed to make sure Jack would keep his hands to himself, you didn't want to be a fool for the second time and he had no right to try and seduce you with a baby talk. Jack wasn't meant to be a father and you'd been nice enough to let him be around Wyatt. On the other hand, you had never thought of marrying Frankie, that made no sense, all you knew was that you wanted to hurt Jack and it seemed like you achieved your goal.

_____

A/N: How dare reader say those things to Jack??? Why can't they be together already 😭😭😭😭

[hier--soir]

okay hear me out…

joel and reader find their way back to Joel’s old house in Texas somehow. the angst. the drama. the COMFORT FROM READER TO JOEL MY HEART.

you’re breaking my heart here, kelp. this one hurt. i’m sorry it took me nothing short of a century to write, but i hope you enjoy this in some kind of way.

warnings/tags: set after tlou pt one timeline, established relationship, angst, grief, mentions of the death of a child, panic attack, hurt/comfort, the real birthday card sarah wrote joel from tlou game brb bawling. wc: 2.6k

Joel’s home in Texas sat at the end of a cul-de-sac.

The houses on the street were run down after decades of rain and sun making the wood deteriorate. The bodies of the buildings sagged as if they’d exhaled a breath one day, and never inhaled another. Your eyes wandered over them as you rode past, trying to imagine what the street had looked like all those years ago when Joel had lived there. Did your best to picture him cruising down the road in his truck, young and carefree, listening to the radio as he drove home from work. The idea made a small smile drift across your face, but it faded as you glanced back to him. He rode a few paces ahead of you, and his broad shoulders were tense, hinting that he was gripping the reins of his horse for dear life.

The pair of you had been travelling for something like a month, all the way from Wyoming, to reach this point. And for most of the trip, he’d remained the Joel you knew and loved. Quiet, and funny, with the warmest smile. But as you’d neared Texas state lines, he’d withdrawn. Started to shut you out; talking less and seldom laughing at your jokes. You knew it was hard for him, to return after so much time, and so you didn’t push him. But that didn’t mean your heart didn’t pang nervously as he pulled his horse to a halt outside of a house.

Closure, Tommy had called it.

“You gotta go back, Joel,” he’d said one night at the dining hall in Jackson. “Even if it’s just once. You owe it to yourself.”

It had taken months to convince his older brother. After three years living in Jackson, Joel had become so comfortable in his new life. He had come so far from being the man you’d heard stories about when he and Ellie first arrived in the settlement.

He’s dangerous, people would whisper. He’s killed people.

And at first, you’d feared him alongside the rest of your community. Until he wormed his way into your heart, and shared himself with you. Yes, he was dangerous, and yes, he had killed, that much you were aware of. But in time, he confided in you. Things about his past that he’d never been able to verbalise to anyone, whispered in your ear while hidden under the sheets of his bed. He trusted you, and you trusted him. And so when Tommy finally wore him down enough that he agreed to go back to Texas, he said he’d only go if you went with him.

“Just to see it,” Joel had said adamantly on the day you left Jackson, as the pair of you saddled your horses. “It’ll be nice just to see it.”

“Long way to go just to see it,” you’d said quietly, stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling. You knew what lay within his house in Texas. Knew what memories resided there, festering inside the walls. The ghosts of who he once was, of the life he was supposed to live. The memory of… her. The daughter he’d lost.

He talked about her more and more, the longer you knew him. Shared stories, confessed to you when things reminded him of her, and the way it made him feel. He dreamt about her often. A few mornings out of every month he would wake with a thin sheen of sweat on his face, muscles tense as he cried out for her, begged her to stay. And you would soothe him, brush the hair off his forehead and hold him, lulling him back to sleep with soft words in his ear and gentle kisses against his hairline.

Standing outside of the house, the thought flitted through your mind once more. Your eyes darted warily between the old property and him. Staring at the profile of his face, you tried to discern an emotion; tried to gage any hint of feeling there. But Joel’s face was blank, forehead smooth, mouth a thin line, as he tied the horses up.

Without a word, he was walking up the driveway toward the front door. Pulse quickening, you trailed behind on numb legs, hand gripping the gun holstered on your hip. If you hoped for anything, it was that infected weren’t holed up inside the house you’d travelled so far to see.

The front door gave way easily under his weight, and a cloud of dust exploded around the pair of you as you stepped past the threshold. And it was… a house. No, a home. No sounds came from within, no rustling or footsteps or clicking. It seemed uninhabited. Safe. You stood behind Joel, waiting for his signal.

Joel cleared his throat, peering around with a tense jaw. “Look around. See if we can find anything useful to take back with us.” You noticed he didn’t refer to Jackson as home.

He wandered slowly through the lower level of the house, not touching anything at first, as if he were hesitant to lay his hands over the things that had once been his possessions. You watched him silently, carefully, allowing him to take the lead. And when he ducked through a set of double doors into a different room, you couldn’t help but analyse the space, how things had been left, all those years ago.

The place was clearly well-lived in. A few plates and bowls rested in the sink, a mug on the counter. A DVD rested on a coffee table by the couch, some 80s action flick with two guys on the cover. Curtis and Viper 2, it read in bold red lettering, This time it’s a family affair. You smiled curiously but didn’t pick it up to read the back.

Rustling came from the doors Joel was behind, and you figured you should start looking around as well. You padded heavily up the stairs, dush and grime loosing into the air as your boots worked against the old carpet. The landing was large, and you could see a few doorways from where you stood. Peeking through the first one, you saw a large bed, a TV mounted on the wall, and a treadmill. You huffed quietly, trying to picture a world in which Joel would run on a machine while watching television. The image was difficult to conjure.

“Y’find anything?” Joel’s gruff voice carried up the stairs.

“Not yet,” you hollered.

“Check the bathroom,” he called. “Might be some painkillers in there. Old antibiotics maybe.”

“On it.”

You moved further down the hall, nudging your boot against a closed door before peering in.

Posters covered the walls, dusty and faded from years of sunlight shining in the window. A double bed with blueish green covers, two sets of drawers. And pictures… so many pictures, tacked against the pink walls, depicting smiling, happy faces. Some that you’d come to know well, and one that you’d never seen before.

Stepping further into the room, you stared at the photograph stuck above her bedhead. It was of Tommy and Joel, with a small girl tucked underneath his arm, her arms wrapped around his middle as she beamed at the camera. Sarah. You swallowed down the ball of emotion that had settled in your throat.

“Found some scissors and tape,” Joel hollered, and you gave a half-hearted shout of acknowledgement in return.

Your lungs tightened, and suddenly your breathing was shorter, the knowledge that you were standing in his daughter’s room almost suffocating you. You turned quickly, with every intention of leaving the room, until something on the dresser opposite her bed caught your eye.

A small, faded card. White paper that had yellowed and faded over the years, that had a cartoon drawing of a dinosaur wearing a party hat across the front. The word ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’ was scrawled in red print below it.

Your fingers ghosted across the paper, feeling the thinness of it; the delicate fragility of something that hadn’t been touched by another human being in over twenty years. Careful not to cause any damage, you opened it. Your eyes turned blurry as they trailed over the words scribbled on the card.

Dear Dad, Let’s see… you’re never around, you hate the music I’m into, you practically despise the movies I like, and yet somehow you still manage to be the best dad every year. How do you do that? Happy Birthday, Pops! Sarah.

A tear rolled off your chin and landed on your shirt, leaving a dark stain. You sniffled sharply, wiping the wet sensation from your face. The flimsy paper shook in your grip, and you found yourself anxious that it would disintegrate at any moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Joel’s voice was steely, low. You flinched, the card tumbling out of your hand and back onto the chest. Your partner loomed tall in the doorway, staring you down. His face was thunderous, expression a mask of fury that you’d never expected to have directed at you, in this lifetime or the next. Dark eyes glared at you, as his mouth twisted into a snarl, lip curled up to reveal gritted teeth.

“Joel,” you breathed, wiping furiously at your cheeks again to remove any sign that you’d been crying. “I’m sorry, I was jus-“

“Why are you touching her things?”

You noticed his eyes never moved off you. He didn’t dare look around the room, her room. “I’m sorry,” you repeated feebly. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

He diverted his gaze, staring down at what you had dropped.

“What is that?” he asked. His voice was quieter, softer. It was like every one of his features pinched together in the middle of his face, and he took a slow step into the room.

“It’s a card,” you told him, slowly reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. He met your gaze, silently asking you to tell him more without him having to ask. “The birthday card she wrote for you. I’m sorry, I know it’s personal and I shouldn’t ha—”

“She never gave me a birthday card that year.”

“What?”

“No card. Just the watch.”

Your eyesight blurred as you stared at him. He moved slowly, as if he had to beg his limbs to work and even then, they dragged along the ground. When he picked it up, the card looked so small in his large hands. Long, dirt-stained fingers gripped the withered paper, splaying it open so he could read it.

And for a moment, everything was still. No movement, no sound, nothing could interrupt the way his eyes danced along the messy handwriting, devouring every letter. A few minutes passed, and you realised he was reading it over and over again. His chest began to rise and fall faster, as short sharps breaths rattled in and out of his lungs.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice hoarse with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you shook your head and took a hesitant step towards him, but you were too slow.

His knees buckled, and he dropped onto the carpet with a heavy thud. You cursed, crouching beside him to get a better look at his face. Silent tears streamed from his eyes, rolling down the hills of his cheekbones before disappearing into his beard. His chapped lips quivered as he silently mouthed the words written on the card, not meeting your eye. You placed a hand on his back and stifled the sound of despair that worked its way up your throat.

“Joe—”

“My baby girl,” he choked out, finally looking at you.

“I know,” you hushed desperately, rubbing soft circles on his back. “I know.”

“N-never saw this,” Joel grunted. It seemed painful for him to speak, and his left hand reached up to press against his chest. Fear spiked inside you, and your hand tightened on his back. “She never—” he paused, upper body swaying.

His mouth was downturned, low breathy sobs escaping his lips as he tried to regain control of his body. But it was out of his control, and you could see the fear crawling under his skin as memories of Sarah wormed through his brain, and twisted his insides.

“I know,” you repeated gently. “I need you to breathe, Joel. Can you hear me?” he nodded faintly, fingertips crinkling the corner of the card where he held it. “Need you to breathe with me now. Slowly, in and out, like this. Don’t go passing out on me.”

He shook his head quickly, but copied the sound of your exaggerated breaths, sucking in air before expelling it heavily. “My girl,” he muttered, and you nodded, kissing his shoulder quickly. “I failed her, I—"

“No,” you said sharply, and finally he looked at you. Bloodshot, grief-stricken eyes stared at you as you shook your head. “You did everything you could. She said it herself, you’re the best dad. She loves you so much, Joel, I can feel it.” His chest shook, and he was silent, breathing heavily as he absorbed your words. You rested your hand atop the one on his chest, slotting your fingers in-between his. His heartbeat thudded aggressively against his sternum, vibrating against your hands.

He squeezed your fingers painfully tight, closing his eyes. “I wish I could just—” he gasped quietly, voice rattling. “Wish I could see her, need to see her.”

You dropped to your knees, pressing your back against his shoulder and cradling him in your arms as he shook. You pressed your hand firmer against his.

“Right here,” you whispered. “This is where it is – her love for you. She’s here, every single day, every second, you just have to let yourself feel it.”

“I don’t know how,” he said desperately. You soothed him quietly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he leant heavier against you. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” you murmured against his hair, feeling the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. “I’m here, let me help you.”

For a while, the pair of you stayed like that. Resting on the carpet in his daughter’s bedroom, leaning against each other’s as a thick silence blanketed you.

You didn’t move a muscle until he said he wanted to leave, and watched him pack the things he’d found into a bag, keenly aware of the way he slid the card between the pages of a thick book and tucked it into the bag as well, careful not to crease it.

Joel was quiet as you left the house, quiet as you untied the horses. Quiet as he rode down the street, with you a few paces behind, heading away from the cul-de-sac, the broken-down houses, Curtis and Viper 2, and the pictures on Sarah’s bedroom wall. For a few days, he didn’t say much at all, and most nights on the trip back to Jackson, as the pair of you settled in your sleeping bags to rest, he would look. He would wait until he thought you were asleep, and then you’d hear him take the book out of his bag, flipping through the pages until he found the birthday card, so he could read her words once more.

And you weren’t naïve. You knew that a part of him would forever be broken, after Sarah’s death. A hole in his heart that nothing and no one could mend – not a second daughter, nor a relationship. But so long as you lived, you knew you would be there, right behind him. To hold him and remind him to feel that love; to breathe it in, to savour Sarah’s love and kindness in his heart, in the hopes that remembering the light would help shut out a little of the darkness.

[roseapov]

Overtime in the Akademiya

Contains spoilers to the Sumeru: Archon Quests Tw: none Fluff 900+ words Masterlist / 2024 BDAY Masterlist Alhaitham's 2024 Birthday Special

Today has been rough for everyone in the Akademiya, just like all of the passing recent days.

After the whole overthrowing Azar, a Fake God situation and disconnecting Akasha Terminals, Akademiya couldn't be a bigger shamble. Even when they tried their best to appear as if nothing serious happened.

Huge delays of many deadlines, changed expectations, new forbidden research topics and the masses of students running from one corner to another were saying otherwise. Driving mad both students and staff working themselves to passing out trying to find some balance to hold on to.

This time has been especially exhausting to the new appointed, Acting Grand Sage - Alhaitham.

With the working hours long since ended, the desk lamp in the biggest office was still glowing, acompanying it's user who was working overtime again, trying to get a hold of the situation and resolve it quickly.

No one envied the new appointed Head, maybe some of them did at first, but after seeing the state of an ever rational, machine-like stoic scholar in such a mess, they quickly abandoned their wish and idea altogether. None of them wanted to be in his skin now... 

As if his horribly dark eyebags and disappearing from everyone's eyes, locking himself in the office all the time wasn't showing how messy everything had been lately.

All of the support from the Dendro Archon was greatly appreciated and very much needed, as Alhaitham wasn't being able to clear his desk from the papers alone. No matter if he worked non-stop day and night, he couldn't see an end to it, and yet the amount of them only seemed to increase over time.

The repetitive routine never ended and haven't let anyone working on them to take a single break, and so more help was needed.

Volountiers - mostly students working on less-confidential files who wanted to obtain extra credites, hoping that they would help them with their graduation and those who have already graduated - hoping to ensure their stable and more superior positions in the new Akademiya in the making.

And yet all of their work, all of these helping hands, eyes and smart brains wasn't enough, it would never be enough, and Alhaitham knew that all too well, but all of their efforts were appreciated and rewarded nonetheless.

At this point, he would take most of the student body to help if they volountered, no one has ever saw him so desperate and stressed before.. And only Celestia knew how many times Alhaitham and other scholars cursed Azar in their minds - some even out loud.

This night again, Alhaitham fallen asleep on his desk in the middle of filling another crucial paper, with his hands placed on top of each other as he placed his head on them in the opposite direction from the still working lamp.

The sleeping man got suddenly woken up in the middle of the night, seemingly out of nowhere, as he started hearing voices from the side of his office. His first reaction was to stand up and go to see the source of the sound. As he stood up he was immiediately hit with a wave of dizziness, but still took his swords despite that and prepared to sneak-up on the intruders.

When he thought about finally going to check out the suspicious noise, he saw a little cupcake with a single white candle and green frosting, with sugary letters saying "Happy Birthday!"... At that he slightly lowered his weapons, more calmed down, but still cautious nonetheless.

It is today, huh? He completely forgot, Alhaitham shook his head smiling slightly and sighing. In the next few second he got serious once again, walking with his dual swords towards the source of the noise, hearing familiar laughter behind the mini-wall made from a bookshelf.

The next thing that Alhaitham saw had relaxed him entirely, as he quietly shook his head at the newcomers antics, with a genuine smile and the feeling of the pressure being taken off his chest.

Right in the middle of the so-called relaxation room in his office sat his friends: Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari. All of them laughed happily at his reaction, clearly enjoying his expression and their succesfull surprise, as both Tighnari and Kaveh made a high five and Cyno was smirking at the taller man. At that he only just rubbed his eyes from still lingering sleepiness and looked at them for a while.

Soon after he put back his swords, another weight had been added onto the couch, with the man sitting close to everyone. Some of them started to chat about some light things, while the others continued to lighten his workload, just like before he joined, sometimes chimming some light remarks into the conversation as well.

Their laughs and happy conversations had surrounded the Grand Sage office up till the rise of the dawn, and when everyone had fallen asleep, Alhaitham - unnonticed by the rest covered them all with blankets and changed positions of some of them, to lessen their possible pains afterwards.

With another happy yet tired sigh he also placed himself on one of the couches, falling asleep comfortably and peacefully, just like before all of this mess started. In that moment he was very thankful for having companions like that, going out of their ways to help him out and be with him from their own will and initiative.

What strange friends he has, he thinks with a gentle and tired smile. He's feeling glad, as he drifts off to a dream land...

[ddollipop]

THINK I WANNA FEEL LOVE. . . ! — ( THOMA. )

#. synopsis! — when ayato allows visiting nobles from other nations to stay at the kamisato estate, thoma finds himself very interested in one young woman in particular .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , oral sex , cunnilingus , cum swallowing , multiple positions , vaginal fingering , vaginal sex , thoma's a pervert , panty sniffing , caught masturbating , virginity , explicit first time sex , frequent usage of endearment terms (baby/angel) , vanilla sex , praise , thoma is really sweet .

#. word count! — 4.2k .

#. a/n! — happy kinktober, sluts ! let's see how many times i post this year, trying to break my previous year's record of three lmao (with one being three days late smh) .

If you ask about Thoma throughout Inazuma, you’ll likely get similar replies. They’ll comment on his willingness to help others, to be of service to those in need. Many will commonly note that he’s a hard worker, a diligent young man who loathes leaving any task incomplete. You might even hear that he’s a prime candidate for many young women in terms of romantic interest, —that he’s easy on the eyes and gentlemanly to boot. Such praise from not only the general public, but even the likes of Kamisato Ayato and Ayaka themselves, left you truly believing that you were in good hands with him.

Which. . . Is still accurate, you suppose; just not in the way you expected.

Coming from a sizable line of nobility, you were cordially invited to attend a week-long summit in Inazuma to discuss international relations between all the nations. Though it wasn’t quite your area of expertise, you readily accepted the offer and studied dutifully in order to make a positive impression. The Yashiro Commissioner was also kind enough to allow guests of high importance (of which you were apparently one) to board in the Kamisato estate for the duration of your stay.

Thus, their dearest housekeeper became yours for the week; in more ways than one. Just as the rumors had declared, —Thoma was warm, kind, and none too unattractive. He helped you carry your bags to the room you’d be staying in and made it clear that if you needed anything at all, you could come to him for help. You thanked him, but didn’t really expect to take him up on that. After all, you were quite used to taking care of most things yourself, and that background of independence and task-juggling has all but prepared you for the very worst.

Thoma was an unexpected storm though; —one you hadn’t a clue how to weather.

The meeting for the third day was pushed back a few hours due to a holdup of cargo ships blocking the entrance to Inazuma. Many of the needed officials were busy trying to sort through the mess of it all, and others were aboard the ships stuck in the harbor, unable to leave until the others had cleared off. When word of the delay reached you, you were the first one out the door, well on your way back to the Kamisato estate. The two prior gatherings had taken a lot out of you, and while it was clear that your studying had served you more than well, the social aspect was quite draining. Moreover, a few extra hours of rest before diving into the next one was hardly a sour idea.

It seemed that everyone else was using their time differently. You were met with a sea of empty rooms, not a single soul in sight as you made your way down the long hall. Halfway to your temporary space, however, you caught wind of soft, muffled sounds coming from your room through the ever-so-slightly cracked sliding door. Your footsteps became much lighter as you approached, peeking in through the small gap to see what was going on.

Your jaw dropped and you were hardly able to contain the gasp that nearly erupted from the back of your throat. Thoma was in your room, clothed back pressed against the wall, your worn panties from the day before stuffed against his face. You could hear him taking long, deep breaths, savoring the scent of your day-old musk. His half-hard cock rested in his hand, offering slow strokes to himself as he reveled in the aroma of your used, unwashed underwear.

Reflexively, you felt prickles of disgust stab at your innocent heart. Having been raised a noble, you were well beyond sheltered in many ways, and this was the first time you’d ever seen something so phallic in person. But you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading along your core, nor the way your pussy clenched ever so slightly at the sight of it all. Thoma was fairly long and certainly not lacking in girth. His lithe fingers encircled himself, sliding along his member with exactly the kind of precision you would expect from an experienced housekeeper.

In your haze of confusion, you let instinct take over, allowing your hand to travel between your thighs. Through your layered dress (proper attire for the important meeting you were supposed to be attending) you rubbed little circles against yourself, getting little jolts of friction that managed to hit just right in spite of the material in your way. Thoma kept his eyes closed, likely to focus his senses on the panties just a few strokes away from being stuffed in his jowls.

You watched from the hall as he stroked himself to the thin garment, thumb grazing the ever-reddening tip of his cock.

“Fuck, y/n.”

The sound of your name falling from his lips leaves your hand freezing in place, breath hitching in your throat as if you were the “bad guy” in this situation. You certainly weren’t the one doing the most wrong here, but the thought of Thoma (or anyone else, for that matter) catching you in such a shameful position. . . It was utterly humiliating.

With his eyes still closed, hand still pumping along his shaft in slow, deliberate flicks, you came to the conclusion that he hadn’t seen you and was simply. . . Fantasizing?

Still feeling largely conflicted, your hand returned to your side and you were set on just walking away and pretending that this had never happened. You figured it was the best course of action to avoid any confrontation, leave things as they had been, and return home soon enough. That is, until one wrong move left a creaky board just outside the sliding door ringing out, to which Thoma’s eyes abruptly shot open in panic. He could see your wide eyes and the soft lavender color of the dress you’d been donning as he saw you out not even two hours prior through the slim crack in the door. 

“My Lady, I—” he cut himself off, your panties falling ungracefully from his hand to the floor at his feet.

Thoma stuffed his hardened cock into his pants, a harsh blush present on his cheeks as he sought to straighten his back and apologize for defiling your space.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said reflexively, backing away from the door, “I didn’t mean to watch, I just—”

The words die in your throat. You don’t know how to finish that sentence, and you fear anything you could have uttered would have just made the situation that much more contentious. 

He pauses, his chest still heaving a bit. Shame crackles in his gut, but he couldn’t help but to take particular interest in the latter half of your apology. The same hand he’d been jacking himself off with reaches out, pulling the door further off to the side. 

“You. . . Were watching?” Thoma asks, a small glint of hope flashing through his shamrock eyes. 

Your heart hammers now, pounding against your chest like a drum. Though there’s distance between yourself and him, you wonder if he can hear it from where he stands.

“Not long,” you attempt to assure him, not quite catching the subtle implications he was throwing your way. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You understand, then,” his tone lowers as he reaches out to take your wrist into his grip, —the same grip that held your panties to his face mere moments prior. “You understand that. . . That sometimes it’s just too easy to come undone.”

“I. . .” you hesitate, but finish anyway: “I suppose I do.”

“Come a little closer,” he beckons, giving your arm a soft pull toward him.

You’ve no reason to really be distrustful of him, so you take a few tentative steps forward, all but melting into his embrace. Now standing in the guest room, Thoma slides the door shut (fully, this time) before putting all of his attention on you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, cupping your heated cheek in his warm hand. “Since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”

Thoma pushes your hair back and away from your neck, baring it for his access, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.

“Can I kiss you?”

Soft tufts of heated air ghost against your skin. A shaky breath passes your lips. You’re nervous, but Thoma. . . He’s been nothing but kind to you, and after what you just saw of him, it’s hard to deny that you’re attracted. All at once, he feels like some semblance of your home whilst you’re so far away, yet he reminds you just as equally of unexplored lands that you’ve never set foot on. He’s tantalizing. 

You nod.

His kiss is enough to steal the air from your lungs, starting off slow and deliberate. The little noises you make stir the lustful beast that creeps just beneath his charming exterior. His lips are soft and maybe even delicate as they gradually become hungrier, finally drawing down your chin and sliding along your open jaw. The gentle hand on your cheek takes its place on your hip now as his mouth explores your neck. Quickly enough, you melt into him, —muscles loosening as you allow him to have his way. 

"Here," he whispers, quickly leading you over to the futon mattress that sits on the floor.

Thoma's nimble fingers travel around your back, pulling at certain ribbons here and there to loosen the waist of your dress. As it comes undone, the sleeves begin to slump off your shoulders, and he cranes his neck down to pepper some more kisses along the newly bared skin.

"If it's too much, just say so," he notes, all the while helping you slip out of your formal attire.

As expected of someone in his line of work, he's meticulous about not damaging the garment. No tearing, no pulling, no unnecessary theatrics, —just undressing you like a gentleman before setting your clothes aside. He even helped to maintain your balance as you stepped out of it.

"Lay back," he prompts, quickly adding, "—make yourself comfortable."

You do, resting your head atop one of the newly fluffed pillows while Thoma strips himself down to his tight-fitting boxers. It's hard not to stare at the prominent outline of his bulge, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as if to sober yourself up, forcing your gaze back up to meet his eyes sheepishly. If he noticed the hunger, he didn’t mention it, but you’re sure he can feel the static in the air between him and yourself as it snaps and crackles like a roaring fire. 

He kneels at your feet, each of you clad only in undergarments. His hands rest against your knees, then slide down the tops of your thighs in tandem. When he extends forward, you spread them, allowing him to slit himself in the open space.

"You're stunning," he compliments, "I haven't been able to stop staring at you since I first saw you. Everything about you is so gorgeous, —it makes it so hard to control myself around you."

Thoma lays it on thick enough to drown in. Though your breathing hitches a bit in your throat, his words fill you with enough confidence to raise yourself off the futon and slink your arms around his neck. The kiss that follows is deep, accompanied by his hands fondling your chest through the fabric of your bra. Each of you is quick to decide the material is an annoyance for the moment, and it's gone not long after. He loves the way your sensitive nipples perk up at the first touch of open air, —then further relishes in the little gasp you let out as he takes one into his mouth, tongue flicking it over. He laps at it until he tires, leaving a sheen of his spit in his wake, before moving over to the other and repeating the process once more. It's the first time any man has ever touched you like this, and you think to yourself that you're glad it's someone so considerate and thorough such as Thoma.

He continues to mumble little words of praise as he kisses down your sternum, —gorgeous, once, beautiful, twice, stunning, thrice. His tongue lolls out around your naval, leaving a thin trail of saliva behind until his mouth rests at the top of your panties. Though he hooks two fingers, one on either side, just below the lacy fabric, he doesn't pull just yet. Instead, he rests the flat of his tongue against your panties, letting his spit seep into the material. You can feel the warmth of his mouth through the fabric, and it's driving you wild. He pulls ever so slightly at the garment, but stops just short of pulling it off, instead lapping at your lips through the material in long, deliberate strokes.

"Ah, Thoma," you vocalize, left hand coming up to softly rest over your mouth.

He pauses for a moment to let you know how much he likes it when you say his name like that. You don’t catch the full sentence through the newfound adrenaline rush, but it’s something about how pretty his name sounds when it comes from you.

Thoma takes a hand from your thigh and presses the tip of his middle finger against the wet stripe along your panties, a mixture of his spit and your arousal, rubbing at the slickness. Your mind is swimming. This is all so new, and it feels distinctly different to the times you’ve sat in your bedroom swirling your fingers around on your clit, leaking onto pristine sheets in the late hours of the night.

Another pause, but this time he decides to tug at your underwear, encouraging you to lift your hips so he can do away with them for the time being. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you react, but it’s hard to be ashamed of anything when Thoma seems so delighted to just be there between your legs. He tosses the last of your clothing to the side, kissing the top of your foot, then up your calf, along your inner thighs, and finally he lets his tongue fall past his lips to split yours apart.

It’s good enough to make your toes curl on instinct, the way he laps like a thirsty animal quenching himself with the folds of your pussy. You gasp at the feeling, swallowing a full moan. He drinks you in like nectar and it’s enough to make you dizzy. 

You feel one of his fingers prod inside you, just barely, pausing to give you time to tell him to stop if that’s what you really want. —It’s not, so after a few moments, he lays his tongue flat against your clit and lets one of his long, slim fingers sink inside you until the base of his hand presses against you as well.

“Feel good, baby?” He inquires, glancing up at you from between your thighs.

“Yeah,” you answer breathily, moving the hand over your mouth down to your breast, clutching at the flesh and feeling his leftover saliva squelch against your skin. “Feels good.”

He hums in acknowledgement, and you feel the vibration in your core. A whine escapes you when he pushes another finger inside just as tenderly as before, letting you adjust before sinking all the way to the palm. He holds your hip a little roughly when he begins pumping his digits in and out, starting off slower to avoid any discomfort on your part.

“You’re so pretty,” he compliments. “It’s all I’ve thought about since you arrived. . . How stunning you are, how good you must taste. . .”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have been burning up from the sheer weight of his praise alone, but as things stand, you fear it’s nigh impossible to be any hotter than you already are in this moment. Your brain isn’t working fast enough to muster up a reply, so you resign yourself to whining at his touch, hoping that will speak for you.

And does it ever. Thoma can practically feel himself throbbing at the noises you’re making. He loves every little sound, relishes in the bliss of having you clench around his fingers, buried so deep in your snatch that his fingers are drowning in your heat.

He watches carefully as your hands clutch at the fabric of the futon in the guest room, feeling your thighs quivery around his body.

“Close?” He inquires.

He doesn’t really get a response, per say, but your back arches a little, pressing yourself harder into his fingers, and that says just about all he needs to know. His tongue returns to your clit, lapping at it again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re left cumming on his fingers and against his mouth. He slows down as you sink your teeth into your own wrist, huffing through the orgasm.

There’s an empty sort of feeling by the time he pulls his digits out, sitting more upright to wipe the mixture of his spit and your arousal from his lips with his forearm. His mind is screaming by now, all things he wants to say, but isn’t sure how to put into words. You’re so stunning like this, that sheen of pure bliss emanating from every pour, —that starry-eyed look in your stare. He loves the way you’ve retained a little sense of humility from it all, but not enough to cover yourself up. He loves the way your wrist keeps the bitemarks of your teeth like a trophy when you let it fall away from your mouth.

The thought of asking you to suck him off crosses his mind, but the moment he looks between your thighs and sees the pretty wetness there, he decides against it.

“C’mere, angel,” he mumbles, encouraging you to sit up and gain your bearings in his arms.

You do, and he’s so gentle in the way he holds you, like he thinks you’re made of something fragile enough to break apart at a moment’s notice. He presses a few off-handed kisses to your temple, then grabs your bitten wrist and kisses there too, as if trying to soothe the dull ache you’d inflicted upon yourself.

You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing, but Thoma doesn’t seem to mind the silence. He fills it with little gestures of affection, —brushing hair from your eyes, presses soft kisses to your forehead and your lips.

“First time?” He inquires, just guessing from your initial shock and the way it all seemed so novel to you. (Plus your noble status, as those from high-class bloodlines were known for their tendency to keep their children quite sheltered.)

You nod in reply, seeming sheepish about it, but he gives you a reassuring smile.

“I’m honored,” he says, and you get the sense that he really means it. 

“We don’t have to do anything else,” he adds. “Please don’t feel pressured.”

It’s then that you give the possibilities some real, clear, rational thought. When you return home in just a few day’s time, it’s unlikely you’ll have an opportunity like this again for quite some time. Moreover, there’s something so endearing about Thoma, especially like this, that has you itching for more. So you swallow, gathering the courage to crane your neck up and kiss him. He seems a little startled by the sudden boldness, but kisses back just as readily, placing a hand on the back of your head.

“I want to,” you tell him, whispering the words against his lips.

And who is he to deny you what you want?

He tugs his boxers off then moves to lie back, thinking it best to let you start the pace. He helps you straddle him, a knee on either side, your cunt hovering just above his length. There’s a jolt of something close to electricity through your veins as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, and you take a sharp breath in. It feels really vulnerable, this position, Thoma’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as his eyes roam over every inch of you that’s on display for him. You know he’s not judging, but it’s new, and you avoid his gaze on purpose as you do your best to line him up efficiently between your thighs.

He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling, not wanting to be mistaken for laughing at you in such an unguarded position. Thoma just thinks you’re cute, the way your hands tremble a little as you work to get him inside. Just the tip, and you gasp a little, so he releases the lip between his teeth and tightens the grasp on your body.

“Easy,” he murmurs, “take your time, baby.”

“Sorry,” you utter like a reflex, though you’re not even sure what you’re even apologizing for in the first place.

You sink down a little further, feeling more of him enter, and it makes you gasp. With your hands on his chest, he can feel the way your arms are starting to shake, so he coaxes you forward and wraps his arms around your back.

“Don’t say sorry,” he mumbles, holding you securly. “Take it slow, there’s no rush.”

It’s several moments before you move again, taking him in until he bottoms out, and you gasp again, this time against the skin of his neck. It doesn’t hurt so much as it’s just new and slightly uncomfortable at first go, a little too full in comparison to everything else you’ve ever had. He lets you adjust, drawing shapes along your bare shoulders, whispering compliments and encouragement. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says softly, “just like that.”

There’s a little seed of pride that sprouts the moment you hear his breathing hitch in his throat. It tells you that you’re doing something right here at the very least, and you let his hands guide your movements, starting off slower before speeding up slightly and feeling his fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass. You swallow down a few moans, letting one of your hands travel to his head, tugging at his hair.

“That’s it,” he drawls, “that’s my girl, just like that, —fuck.”

It’s almost startling to hear that word fall from Thoma’s lips again, but you’re a little too blissed out to be surprised. Instead, you give up on the idea of choking back your moans and let them spill past your lips, —breath ghosting against his neck where you’ve buried your face in the crook. He tests the waters, jolting up to meet your riding, making your grip on his strawberry blond strands tighten in the process.

“Thoma,” you choke out desperately, causing a grin to etch its way onto his pretty face, “—please.”

He’s not sure how he knew what that please really meant, but he just did. Thus he switches the position at your discretion and takes his place between his legs again, lining the tip of his cock up just right, then letting it dip inside. Somehow, it feels better in this position than it did in the previous one, and he watches with ample interest as you take your bottom lip between your teeth nearly roughly enough to draw blood as your eyes roll back a ways.

There’s something alluring about the way he moans above you, like he’s getting drunk on this feeling, on this time he’s spending buried deeply enough inside you to feel your walls pulling him in as if every part of you is as desperate for him as he is for you. It feels good to be wanted, he realizes, and even better to be wanted by you.

He slides in and out, eventually establishing a pace that feels good for the both of you, —nothing rough, but not quite soft, either. It’s somewhere in the middle, with just enough enticement to push your novice body to new heights without overwhelming your sensibilities. Through it all, he’s as gentlemanly as everyone told you he was, watching your movements like a hawk, attentive of your every whimper.

When he goes deeper and gets a little sloppy, you’re far enough along for it to not make much of a difference. He’s nearing the edge of a precipice when the knot in your gut comes undone, and you cum on his cock, clenching down on him. He spares a few more thrusts in before slipping himself out and leaning back to jack himself off to a finish.

Before he can do so by himself, you’ve moved through the haze of your orgasm to wrap your lips around him. You’re not quite sure what came over you, but in the moment, it felt so right that you couldn’t back down by the time he was stuffed down your throat. He really didn’t mean to be so rough with you, but he was so close to the high he’d been desperately searching for in your cunt that your mouth served as a pristine replacement.

“P-Pull off a bit, baby,” he says quickly, —having enough restraint to avoid pumping a load directly down your gullet.

You pull away, but keep the tip in your mouth, feeling him twitch against your tongue. The taste of his cum is a little bitter, but it’s warm, and you stay attached to him while he catches his breath. The hand on your head falls away, and he reaches for the hankerchief he always carries in his pocket to give you something to spit into.

His face falls a little when he goes to hand it to you and watches you swallow instead.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Sneak peak from my as yet unreleased fic, Shattered but Whole (this is an excerpt)

EXCERPT (from second part - Unravels. There is also Lena's Tale from The Event and Kara's Tale also in Unravels. A third part Integration is still being written. I'll post full fic at end of month hopefully):

Sam's Tale

Sam places the soup on the coffee table. The lack of sleep burns behind her eyes, partly due to Rory's tendency to wander. She sits down on the sofa and manages a smile for the huddled form under the pile of blankets.

Stubborn and unflinching like steel, Rory has failed to eat more than a few sips of broth for the past day. Frustration boils in Sam, but what can she do? She can't let that emotion show.

So she takes a deep breath to calm herself. Pictures the tidal pools, where her, Ruby, and Lena used to walk on weekends before Lex's escape and carefully crafted lies and manipulations that strangled the leadership of two countries and nearly killed them all.

Sam remembers the fires that raged from the satellite weapon. One blast had incinerated parts of Kansas, burning wheat fields, and destroying the town of Smallville. Then another blast had ripped through downtown Metropolis, obliterating one of the news stations and its neighboring buildings.

At the time, Sam had been making dinner when the flash of red swept across the sky. Next came the booms and the brief quake, then the horrid silence before the sirens started up. Most channels in town had gone off-air, but those from one state over functioned fine. It relayed images of the destruction, and how the Claymore satellite turned toward space again. Sam had started packing immediately, while she did everything she could to keep Ruby distracted.

Then hours later, Lena had called.

Sam won't ever forget how her voice whispered Sam's name over and over in a pained, panicked way, as if Sam was the rope she held tightly to keep from falling. In the background, she had heard booms and white noise. At first, she feared Lena had been near the epicenter, only to learn she was instead on the other side of the country. And the booms were just thunder.

Sam runs a hand through her hair. Stress and anxiety hangs like a shawl, the intense rush to reach National City still sizzling in her limbs. She should have returned sooner, before this tragedy.

“Rory,” Sam says gently. Grief coils in her chest when Lena's face turns to her, only for Rory's wide green-blue eyes to meet hers. As always, the haunted expression breaks Sam’s heart a little more. “It’s okay. I’m not angry. I’m just worried. Eating will help you feel better. So how about a few bites?”

Tentatively, Rory reaches out to prod the spoon in the bowl. It swirls the ingredients in little whirlpools.

For Rory to front this long? Without any sign of Kieran or Lena? Worry joins Sam's grief and exhaustion. It's been two — possibly three if she counts the night of Supergirl’s rescue— days with no sign of the others.

“We had to. We had to end the cycle.” Lena's words said so brokenly.

Sam isn’t a fool. Lena/Kieran killed Lex and burned the evidence. She still doesn't know how this came about or why it transpired in Northern California.

Will burning it all be good enough? Should she devise alibis just in case? This really isn’t her purview — Lena is the strategist or Jack. Sam is more of the ‘wild ideas and toss at wall to see if they stick’ person.

Advice definitely needed, but who to call?

Sam taps her fingers against her knee and teases her mind for solutions. How would Jack or Lena approach this? Systematically. Sam is decent with math, but she's never been able to keep up with those science geniuses.

Systematic she can do. She unlocks her phone to peruse her options.

Alex Danvers, FBI agent, who likely knows what they need for alibis. Can Sam trust Alex not to align with her job and bring in Lena?

The news this morning documented Supergirl's fight with Lex and the liberation of the alien power plant. Catco released the first part of a three-part article that exposes of Lex's megalomania and genocidal plans. Kara really outdid herself with that piece.

The tide favoring Lex shifts slowly. No, she can't trust anyone associated with the government. Not until Sam has definitive evidence they won't turn on Lena or Supergirl still.

Fine, whose next?

Kelly Olsen, Lena's therapist. Or soon to be ex-therapist due to Kelly dating Alex Danvers now. Due to Lex's brief reign of terror, Kelly and Lena — as far as Sam knows — hadn't had time to find a suitable replacement to continue Lena's work on integration.

Kara Danvers then? A rather naive journalist, who apparently is Supergirl's alter ego. Or maybe Supergirl is Kara's alter ego. That stormy night Supergirl rescued Lena confirmed they are one and the same.

Lena adores Kara, but her words that stormy night: “Did you know Kara is an alien?” had held a layer of pain.

Sam sighs and rubs her temple. The only other number she has is for James Olsen, who she doesn't trust farther than she can spit. He may have dated Lena, but he'd never truly let go of Lena's last name. Sam wishes she'd never pushed Lena to try, but that was before she understood the depth of Lena's feelings for Kara.

The clink of a spoon echoes softly in the sterile apartment. Rory still hasn't attempted food. Only swirls and swirls, the whirlpools sink into the depths of the cup and reveal bits and pieces of vegetables.

Sam watches and blinks back tears. Jack would have known what to do. He'd likely be mobilizing alibis and lawyers already, but he lay in a coma, trapped since the nanite catastrophe that destroyed Spheerical Industries. A memory Sam tries to avoid. Kieran and Rory had fronted for weeks after that disaster.

“Lena,” Sam whispers, “I know you're in there.” She reaches out to brush black hair from Rory's face. “How would you or Kieran handle this?”

Rory glances at her, her eyebrows scrunched as if in thought. Her other hand lifts from under the blankets and forms the sign for ‘endure.'

Yes, Sam knows Rory is the one that endures. Helplessness seeps through her limbs. She looks down at her phone and flips through the contacts again with her thumb. One by one names trickle by until she stops at Kara Danver's name.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” she tells Rory. “When I get back, I want at least some of this soup eaten. Then we can watch your favorite show. Or maybe play a game?”

Rory tilts her head, and her face contorts — wrinkles in forehead, scrunched eyebrows, flared nostrils, slight grimace, and sucked in cheeks — a sign of a possible switch.

Sam holds her breath in hope.

The expression fades, and Rory tugs blankets tighter around her body. One hand grips the spoon again and forms the whirlpools once more.

Sam lets out her breath. “Promise me, you'll eat? Otherwise, no games later.”

Rory narrows her eyes but reluctantly nods. Sam will take that as progress.

Standing, she glances at her daughter, who sits curled up in the armchair by the sofa. Her latest book — a science fiction novella about nonbinary monks and robots — lays open in her lap. Ruby's fingers crinkle the page right before she turns it.

Sam marvels for the millionth time how much Ruby looks like her. Only her nose and thicker build gives any hint of the worthless father.

Her baby, the reason for much of what Sam does. Today, Ruby's hair curls down past her shoulders, still damp from a shower, and her brown eyes scan the pages of her book. She looks up at Sam, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Keep an eye on her, Rubes. I’ll be on the balcony.”

Ruby gives her a thumbs-up. She knows the drill. In a way, she and Rory act as sisters, which puts Sam in the weird-ass role of mother figure when Rory fronts.

So very different from the best friend role Sam holds for Lena, and the nebulous more than friend role for Kieran. All aspects that leaves Sam in a strange limbo of not able to ever confess her feelings.

Outside, the wind blows cool, the taste of salt off the ocean. Sam leans against the railing and struggles to hold back her tears. Is this disaster the one that finally breaks her best friend?

Sam had promised herself long ago to make sure Lena was never alone wih Lex, and yet, three days ago that exact scenario played out while Sam was stuck in Metropolis. She'd been there for the past three months fixing a major production and accounting mishap, which meant Ruby temporarily enrolling in the school in the interim.

Convenient that such a mishap happened just when Lex strolls back into Lena's life. Sam rubs her eyes and slumps against the railing. The mishap she repaired had been sabotage, that Sam knows, but she can't scrounge up enough evidence to confirm by whom.

Even though in her heart she's positive it was Lex's way to separate her and Lena.

To isolate Lena slowly. Like he always does.

Sam can't ever forget the moment she learns of his abuse. During the initial merger, years ago, Lena had been sitting in her office after a meeting with Lex. Sam only came by to drop off her report, but what she found alarmed her. Lena's expression had been twisted in what looked like pain. Her red, chafed skin and the red mark on her left cheek ignited a deep need to protect in Sam.

Yet she'd failed. All their work to free Lena from the Luthors shredded by Lex. The urge to scream and rip apart the world seethes in Sam.

At least Lex is dead. The fucking bastard. But it should have been her hands that did it. Not Lena's.

She rubs away her angry tears and pulls out her phone. Thumbs through the unlock and hovers over Kara's name. A number she's had since the worldkiller crisis ten months ago. That time of horror is where Sam finally understood viscerally the amnesiac episodes.

***

Sam stands in an alley. Her boots are muddy, and her head stuffed with cotton. Her breath catches in her throat, her lungs raw. Her body feels not her own, like a puppet on strings. She looks down at her hands, the grime under her nails unfamiliar. Her stomach twists in knots, her head aches, and she wants to curl up and weep.

How did she get here? Where is she?

Fog coils in her mind and sizzles with lightning. The air charged with apprehension despite the cloudless night glaring down at her.

Memories seep through slowly: She was skating on a rink with Ruby, who easily kept pace with her. Sam had turned to skate backward and make faces at her daughter. Typical pre-teen response of rolled eyes, but the hint of a smile gave away Ruby's amusement.

She'd just turned to skate forward again when a ringing started in her ears. Ruby passed her, while Sam's vision fogged over. Whispers crept into her ears: let go, let go.

Dark woods loomed then, while the fog tugs her from the fluorescent lights of the indoor rink. Bare branches curved like hands that reach for her, until darkness coats her mind and body. Freezing cold slithers through her.

Only to wake here, in an alleyway, alone.

Terror ignites.

Ruby.

Where is Ruby? She digs through her pockets but finds nothing. No phone.

Wait, why is she in khakis and navy blue button-down shirt? Where is her jeans and T-shirt she'd been wearing skating?

Why is one of her sleeves caked with blood? But she has no wounds.

Ruby. Her feet jerk into motion, and she sprints from the alley.

Car engines and horns assault her ears. She’s a block from L-corp. Definitely phones there to borrow. She dodges through the slow, meandering traffic, and ignores the driver's curses and car horns.

She bursts through L-corp’s doors. To the left is the security desk, where a lone guard reads a magazine, his only light a small lamp. The rest of the building is dark except for the fluorescent lights near the elevators and stairs. Sounds of traffic fade into a faint roar, only interrupted by the crinkle of pages.

Shadows stalk across the foyer, like the woods of her nightmares. One shadow forms the figure of a woman, red eyes aglow. She takes a step backward, her breath caught in her throat and her stomach bubbling with nausea.

“Ms. Arias?” the voice cuts through her frozen terror. The figure vanishes.

Sam turns to see a plump, older man at the security desk. His hazel eyes look up from his book, his mouth in a confused grimace.

“Are you all right?”

No, she most definitely is not. She can't let it show. Breathe, she tells herself. Four, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty… she counts until her hands stop shaking. “Bill," she asks, slowly, "can I use your phone?”

“Uh, sure.” He turns his desk phone around to face her.

Sam dials Lena’s number. Her fingers tremble despite her attempts to calm down.

To her relief, Lena picks up after one ring. “This is Ms. Luthor speaking.”

“Lena, oh thank god you answered," she clutches the phone, almost in tears at her familiar voice. "Please, where are you? Where is Ruby?”

“Sam?” Relief floods Lena’s voice. “Sam, I’m at the office. Where are you? I can—”

“I’m coming upstairs.” Sam hangs up and sprints for the elevator. As the elevator ascends, she paces back and forth, terrified and nauseated. Her body aches from head to toe as if she’d been in a fight, but she has no memory of the past few hours — days?

It's been two months of horrific nightmares and amnesiac episodes. One month of trying to hide it all under a veneer of practiced poise.

Shadows play across the elevator walls, and one sneers like a face of a demon. She jerks backward, her back hitting the wall. Whispers in a language she can't quite distinguish sinks into the dark. Strange symbols form on her arms, and she tries to rub them away to no avail.

The metal of the elevator forms a face with red eyes.

No. No, no! She hits the buttons on the elevator desperate to escape. The elevator shivers and clanks. Horror stalks her.

"Four, eight, twelve," she says, out loud, desperate to calm herself. "Sixteen, twenty…"

The elevator doors open to darkness, except for a red light at the end of the hall. No, she can't enter that. The doors shut, and she slumps to the ground, her arms around herself. The doors open three more times, and each time she's met with a gloom so deep, she swears she can hear the creaking of branches.

She’s never been more terrified in her life. For these episodes to increase in severity, for them to now impact her daughter? Sam wants to scream and rip herself to shreds.

The fourth time the doors open, light cascades into the room. She throws herself into the precious light. Scrambling to her feet, her boots pound against the tiles as she sprints down the hallway, past a conference room, past Jess' empty desk, and finally to the door of her office.

She tugs open the door, her breaths sharp and agonized.

A figure sits at the desk, the glow of a tablet across her porcelain features and glossy black hair. A fluffy scarf wraps around the woman's neck, her jacket open to show a shiny red shirt that is far too reminiscent of blood.

Recognition sparks. Lena. It's only Lena. Relief stops her mad dash. “Where’s Ruby?”

“Sam! Thank god you’re okay.” Lena sweeps to her feet, her Irish accent faint, which means it’s Lena fronting. Kieran always has a heavy Irish brogue. She takes a few hesitant steps around the desk, but pauses a few feet away. Her concern etched into her perfect features. “Ruby called me right away. I took her home. I — I thought I’d check the office again in hope you’d return here. Like you had the other times.”

“Oh my god.” Sam turns away and presses her hand to her forehead. “How could I do this to her?” She throws her hand down and starts to pace. “What if I’d been driving at the time?”

Her imagination unhelpfully provides a vivid image of a crash and a bloodied body. Bile rises in Sam's throat.

Lena holds up her hands as if to placate her. “She’s safe, Sam. She did the right thing by calling for help.”

Right, help. Good. Emergency plan enacted. Yet Ruby never should have needed it.

Sam takes a deep breath and turns back to Lena. “Was she scared?”

Lena’s shoulders droop then, but the tension in her body shows in her creased brows “Yes. We all are.” Cautiously, Lena approaches her, one hand still upheld. “Do — do you remember anything?”

Sam shakes her head. Whispers, shadowed woods, and fog provides no clues. “No. No, I don’t. Same as always.”

Lena tugs at her fingers. “Ruby told me about the other times.”

Sam stares at her, unable to fathom at first Lena's meaning. “She doesn’t know,” she says, finally. “I — I haven’t told her yet.”

“She’s a smart kid. Had a time-line of dates, times, and places —”

“You told a twelve year old that her mother is sick with a illness no one can diagnose?” A coiling horror mixed with anger shudders through her body. No, Ruby can't know. “Seriously?”

“Sam, she already knew.” Lena holds up her hands again, as if to ward off Sam’s anger. “I simply reassured her that you didn’t abandon her. That we’re looking into this.”

“Si—”

The world sears in sudden frigid cold. It weaves into her bones, as dark grey fog coils. Let go, a whisper curls into her ears. A face forms in the mists, skull with no eyes, and hands reach up from the ground.

Bare branches leer over her like clawed hands. She staggers backward, only to hit the desk.

She’s back in the office. “What — what…” Bile burns her throat.

Lena stands on the other side of her, her arms around herself, and a haunted look in her eyes. She blinks and drops her hands to her side. “Sam? Are — are you back?”

Sam slowly backs up until her legs hit a chair. She lowers herself, shaken.

“Sam? Did you just have a blackout?”

Terror throttles her breathing, her gasps sharp and pained. Nodding, she shivers and grips the chair.

Lena holds up her hands as if to calm her down. “You don’t remember anything you just said?”

Tears blur her vision. She shakes her head. “I need help,” she whispers. Something more than therapy, more than Alex’s MRI and CT tests. Something that can dig deep into why these episodes happen when it’s never happened prior.

“Sam, do you trust me?” Lena drops to one knee next to Sam’s chair, and gently grasps her hands.

Sam clings to Lena’s warm and grounding touch and nods.

“Let me run some tests. You’ll have to stay in the basement lab for the night.” Lena bites her lip and looks down at their hands. “If I’m right about this, you’re in grave danger.”

Dread weighs heavy on Sam. “Whatever is needed, do it.” If anyone can find what’s wrong, it’d be her best friend. The person who understands amnesiac episodes, the one who is a genius with biology and engineering — the person Sam trusts and loves more than anyone else in the universe. “You’ll watch Ruby?”

“Of course. She’s in a safe place right now, and with someone I trust to keep an eye on her.”

Her words help only marginally; Sam can’t help but worry for her daughter. To not be able to see her? Out of fear of what she might do in an episode? The tears escape despite all her attempts to hold them at bay.

“I promise you I’ll figure this out. We’ll find the cure together.” Lena wraps an arm around her shoulder, while her other hand rubs her thumb over Sam’s knuckles. Exactly the same way Sam does during Lena’s panic attacks or amnesiac episodes. Oh, how the tables have turned.

True to her word, Lena sets her up in a medical bed in the basement lab and runs the battery of tests. Her best friend says very little, her entire focus on her work — like always when she hyperfocuses.

Needles used shimmer with a hint of green and leave a weird ache after. Hum of machines scan her insides, and the tool to scrape a sample from inside her mouth feels cold and unnerving. The only words spoken are gentle but short explanations of each procedure.

She knows Lena does it to try to calm her.

Nothing will calm her. Not until they know the truth.

Sam wonders if feeling shattered or scared is how Lena is all the time. If so, how does she cope? Admiration for Lena’s strength and resiliency floods Sam. Lena’s spent a life like this, while Sam falls apart after only a few months.

“This last test relies on you sleeping.” Lena stands a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. Her accent has stayed faint these last few hours, which means Kieran hasn’t fronted once. “Do you think you can sleep?”

Sam rubs her eyes. “Maybe. I’m exhausted enough.”

For a moment, Lena stands silently, her expression contorts almost in pain. She takes in a sharp breath, and her shoulders straighten, her posture rigid. A switch.

“Then rest.” Her best friend steps up to the bed, her accent a thick Irish brogue, where each word is pronounced slowly as if she tastes each one. That signals this is now Kieran. “We will watch over you.” She gently kisses Sam’s forehead and smooths back her hair.

Sam aches to hold her and be held in turn. Instead, she grasps Kieran’s hand. “Can — can you really cure this?”

“Not me, luv,” Kieran says, tenderly. “Lena can. She has a plan. We just need more data.” Her hand continues to stroke Sam’s hair, her other tightly holding Sam’s left. “Close your eyes now, and I shall sing you to sleep.”

Of Lena’s many parts, Kieran is the only one that can hold a tune, and she sings an Irish ballad. It ripples over Sam and encases her in warmth. She finally drifts to a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, her head aches, her vision blurry, and her shoulder hurts. She reaches up and realizes there’s a device there, but she can’t quite see what it is.

“Lena? Kieran?” She’s not sure who is fronting for her friend.

“It's Lena.” Lena looks up from the desk, where several papers are scattered along with a tablet and a laptop. She gives her a faint smile. Dark circles line her eyes. Likely barely slept. Typical of her. “How do you feel?”

“Achey. What — what is this?” She taps the device.

“Precaution.” Lena stands and walks closer, only to stop a few feet away. “I — I have good and bad news.”

“Surely not as bad as the world ending?” Sam jokes.

Lena doesn’t laugh nor does she smile. Her eyes narrow instead. “I reviewed our data and the timeline of your episodes.”

The seriousness in Lena’s stance, the faint wisp of her accent, and the pain in her tone makes it clear that Sam isn’t going to like her next words. She braces herself.

“Your episodes align with when Reign appears.”

Sam jolts upright in shock. “No. That’s crazy.”

Lena frowns. “The data I’ve taken has provided proof. I suspect when you left on your trip ‘to find your origins,’ you were possessed. The time and date of that correlates to the timing of Reign’s cult leader escaping prison.”

Sam shakes her head. There’s no way.

“Let me show you then.” She picks up a remote and turns on the television. It plays a segment from a news report of a murder. “Two months ago you report a black out. Reign appears and kills three robbers and leaves an odd symbol all over National City. The same symbol the cultist gave Kara during her interview exactly two weeks before your ‘trip’ happened.”

Sam can’t believe her ears. She shakes her head again.

“A week later, you have another black out.” She hits the remote and another news segment appears. “Seven people killed at a warehouse. Their bodies mutilated.”

“Lena, why are you doing this?” Sam stumbles out of the bed. “You — you can’t— I get squeamish whenever Ruby asks me to kill a spider. Why — how — there’s no way I’d ever kill those people!”

Lena sighs. “I don’t think you did.”

“So what, I’m like you? Split personality now?” She snaps as she starts to pace. A weird energy tingles through her, and the area where the device is aches.

Lena takes a shuddering breath. “Sam, that’s —” She turns away and fiddles with her tablet. “Is that really what you think of us?” she asks quietly.

“No!” Sam put her head in her hands. “No, it’s not at all. I — I don’t know why I said that. You’re absolutely lovely. All of you.”

“Sure.” The flat tone to her voice hurts to hear.

“Lena, I mean it!” Sam drops onto the bed. “I’m not thinking straight. My body feels weird, and my head hurts, and — and I’m scared. Do — do you have dreams of dark forests with mists that whisper frightening things when you switch?”

Lena’s head shoots up, and she stares at Sam.”No, I don’t. I thought you said you don’t remember anything.”

“I don’t. But when — when I got angry at you at the office, I — I was briefly there, and, god, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Lena picks up the tablet and types something into it. “That’s valuable information.”

“Do you know what’s wrong then?” Sam needs answers. Some sort of tangible goal, not this nebulous grey.

“I think Reign is possessing you,” Lena says, bluntly. “When she fronts, you lose all awareness. Your DNA essentially rewrites itself. None of my alters rewrite my DNA. Believe me, I tested myself to verify. It’s likely the Reign cultists targeted you, but what they used to cause this, I’m still researching.”

Sam stares at her, shocked.

“Please, Sam, understand, I wouldn’t tell you this if I wasn’t sure.” Lena’s words are sharp, firm, but her hands tremble, her eyes red-lined as if she’s been crying.

“This is ridiculous.” Sam starts to pace. Her body vibrates with energy, and she feels ill. Like her stomach’s acid eats through her intestines. Looking at the TV makes it worse. “I’m going home to Ruby.” She turns and walks straight into a wall. Startled, she stumbles backward. There’s nothing there.

She reaches out, tentatively, and her fingers bounce against an invisible field. “Lena, what the hell? Let me out!”

Lena shakes her head. Tears shine in her eyes. “I — I can’t. You asked me to help you. This is the only safe way.”

“No!” Sam slams her hand against the field. “Let me out, Lena. I want to see my daughter.”

“Until I find a cure, no.” Her voice shakes, but she holds her chin defiantly.

“So this is how it is?” She has the urge to lash out, to draw blood. Energy jolts through her, and her vision blurs further. Whispers of a fog curls around her mind and body. “Lena Luthor holds her best friend hostage —”

Lena breathes in sharply. “Sam, you asked me to help you.”

“I didn’t ask to be held in a cage!” Sam shoots back. “This was supposed to be just tests.”

Lena closes her eyes and turns away. Her shoulders shake, and her expression contorts. A sure sign she’s fighting against a switch. “I need to check on Ruby.” She takes the tablet and leaves.

The door clangs shut behind her. Silence envelops Sam, and with it, shadows plague her periphery. The light flickers. Fear swiftly replaces her frustration.

The TV still plays news segments. A desk with a monitor and keyboard sits under it. Distract. Must distract, otherwise the shadows creep closer, and the eerie sense of being watched looms larger.

She switches off the TV and settles in the chair. Clicking the start menu, she finds only generic games and a word processor. No internet connection and the clock is hidden. Meaning, she has no clue of the date or time.

Turning, she slams her fists against the forcefield, but it doesn’t budge. She grabs her chair and hits it against it again and again, but still nothing. It stays firmly there. Trapped.

A scream erupts from her throat, and she throws her body at the field, only to slide to the ground in a fit of panicked weeping. Claustrophobia claws through her, and she desperately wraps her arms around herself. Taps her shoulders again and again until the soft beat of her hands transforms the panic into a quiet, anxious simmer.

She thinks through all the years she’s known Lena, and nothing implies a trajectory to this situation. Her blackouts is the new data-point, which means, Lena doesn’t trust her as long as she has them.

Sam doesn't trust herself as long as they keep happening.

She rubs away her tears. Decides to focus on Aikido exercises to pass the time. Thinking about her situation only induces more panic, and she needs to try to stay calm for when Lena returns.

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes. Time flows unsteadily, the buzz of monitors her only sound. When her muscles tire, she plays solitaire and later a generic racing game. Finally, sleep slithers up her spine, and she manages a nap.

When she wakes, Lena sits at the desk again. This time a picture frame lays on the desk by her tablet. “Good morning,” she says with her boardroom voice, a carefully modulated and emotionless tone. “Have you thought about what I’ve told you?”

“Lena, please, don’t play games with me,” Sam pleads. Being alone messes with her mind, and she fears the silence. “Let me go home. I told you, if I killed people, I’d remember.”

Her fingers tap against the tablet. “Amnesiac episodes would not allow you to remember such things.”

“Then give me a better explanation than, ‘hey, you’re a supervillain in your spare time,’” Sam snaps. “Aren’t we family, Lena? Locking me up like this isn’t cool.” Frustration tingles through her limbs, and the urge to lash out bubbles through her. “I guess the saying is right,” she says.

“What saying?” Lena frowns.

“Ask an oncologist what's wrong, they'll say cancer. Ask a pulmonologist, they'll say asthma. Ask a Luthor…” The words freeze on her tongue. What is she saying?

No, no, she can't finish that thought.

Fury radiates from Lena’s eyes, her fists clenched, and her accent is nearly nonexistent. “They'll say Supervillain?” she finishes for Sam. “Maybe on some deep level you do know.” Her voice is cold, deadly almost, as the most unnerving alter of all comes to the front.

Sam shakes her head. “No, no, I didn't mean —”

“Let’s take a look, shall we? How about Morgan Edge, the bastard who tried to poison a city for profit.” Angry Lena walks back and forth by the edge of the forcefield, while her thumb punches the remote.

The television turns on behind Sam to a news segment of the attack on Morgan Edge.

“What I wouldn’t give to see how that played out.” The sneer on Lena's face looks foreign.

Sam scrambles to her feet and backs away, only to hit the other side of the forcefield. “What — what — no.”

“Or what about Supergirl? What did it feel like to connect your fist with something that solid? That powerful?” Another news segment appeared on the screen, where Supergirl falls motionless from a great height. “Or those men?” A third one flashes into view that depicts entrails and mangled bodies. “You tore those men apart. Ripped their limbs from their bodies.” The fury in her voice accents each verb with deadly accuracy. “Did you delight in their deaths?” Angry Lena steps closer, her stormy eyes boring into Sam.

“No!” Sam clenches her fists. Her whole body vibrates, and she feels like she’s about to explode. “Stop this! I just want to go home to my daughter!”

“As if I’d let you near Ruby again,” Angry Lena snarls. “How did it feel living in that house with her day in and day out? When you could easily snap her in half with your bare hands?”

“Stop this!” The energy rattles through her bones, rises up toward her head, and she feels frantic. Something terrible looms, and she can’t stop it.

When Angry Lena speaks again, Sam fails to comprehend. Her words trigger a flare of pain that rips through Sam’s body, catapults her mind into a frigid, grey fog.

Her feet slide on rocky soil.

Branches creak but there is no wind.

Shadows coil in her periphery, whispers caress her ears. Let go. Let go.

Misty hands brush against her ankles. She kicks them away and staggers backward, only for her hand to hit something soft and moist. She screams and jolts her hand away. Her feet slip on the gravelly soil, and she tumbles into a ravine. She curls up with her hands above her head and whimpers.

“Four, eight, twelve,” she counts, just like she did many times with Lena, “sixteen, twenty...”

The coldness abates, the fog fades, and light warms her eyelids. Pain burns through her body. She gasps and opens her eyes to find herself flat on her back.

Around her, the bed has been torn in half. The desk shredded. The monitor is ripped apart, and the television swings back and forth on its cords. A video plays. She watches the last bit of Angry Lena's cruel words, then the monstrous change ripples through Sam's body.

Not-Sam unleashes heat vision and tears apart the room with her bare hands.

Terror freezes her, her eyes wide. Metal snaps off the bed and hurls at the force field. It shimmers brightly. Lena ducks behind her desk in the video, and that sours Sam's mouth with bile.

She leaps forward to stab at the TV’s buttons in desperation. “Turn it off, turn it off!”

The television goes silent.

“We — we needed you to see it for yourself.” Lena’s voice whispers, pain in her voice. “And we didn’t know how else to do it. You — you weren’t listening. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“All those people…” Sam crumples and breaks into tears. Her hands are coated in blood. How can she ever face her daughter again?

The forcefield flickers and drops on one side, while Lena springs to her side. “Sam, Sam, it wasn’t your fault.” She wraps her arms tightly around her shoulders and presses her forehead against Sam's. “You weren’t in control. When Reign fronted, I got samples of her DNA, okay? And knowledge is power. We’re going to get you through this, okay?”

Sobs cascade through her body. She doesn’t know for how long she cries, but Lena rocks her gently. Kisses her temple, and strokes her hair.

Her voice changes to the thicker Irish brogue of Kieran. “It’s okay, luv. It’s okay. You’re not alone in this. We understand. We can cure this. Lena has a plan, and I’m sorry we spoke so harshly. It won’t ever happen again.”

Sam clings to such frail hope. Slowly, her sobs slow. She shivers and pulls back. “Kieran, you — you can’t be in here with me then. Not — not if I could turn into Reign.”

Kieran brushes hair from Sam’s face and cups her cheek, her eyes a turquoise color instead of Lena's usual emerald. “We know the risk.” She pulls out a phone and gently places it in Sam’s hands. “Call your daughter. We’ll clean up.” She kisses Sam on the forehead, and stands with a sad smile.

The affection in Kieran's voice takes the breath from Sam. For a moment, she stares up at her best friend, the part that has stayed fiercely loyal to Sam, and always touches her with such reverence.

Kieran doesn’t just love her as a friend, but perhaps more than one.

But Sam can never act on this realization, not with her complex roles in Lena’s life — Lena’s best friend, this nebulous more than friends with Kieran, the almost motherly role for Rory, and the grounding role for Angry Lena.

Her current state mars her roles, darkens her impact, threatens to sever their connection. The hurtful words they hurled at each other fade to a dull ache. Instead, Sam holds back a sob of grief. Her roles in Lena's and Ruby's lives define her.

Without them, who is she? How can she be useful to anyone?

She looks down at the phone and sags against the wall.

Kieran pushes out the shattered bed and desk. Sweeps away the glass and metal. A new bed she rolls into the enclosure.

As she works, Sam unlocks her phone and stares at the number for Ruby’s emergency phone. What does she even say? Grief lances through her, her heart charred by the horrors.

Her best friend finishes and pauses at Sam’s side. “Call,” she says, quietly. “You need to hear her voice as much as she needs yours.” The thicker accent is gone, and Lena’s deep emerald eyes meet Sam’s. She reaches out to gently trail her fingers along Sam’s right temple. “I’ll be just outside the enclosure, okay?”

Sam nods. She waits until the hum of the forcefield activates before she finally speaks. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier.”

“It’s okay, Sam. We’re sorry too.” Lena sits down on the other side, her tablet on the ground next to her. “We understand how scary this is. But a cure is possible. Whatever the cultists did, we can undo, okay?”

Sam shudders and tries to believe Lena, but her hope is fragile. Her mind keeps spinning back to the news segments, to the deaths by her hands — even if she wasn’t the one fronting. Images of entrails clog her thoughts.

No. Think of anything else. She takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. Thinks instead of the softness of Lena's hands against her face.

And the smile of her daughter as she eagerly shares a story from school.

Precious grounding moments.

She finally hits the dial button.

“Mom?” Ruby's voice shakes at first but then steadies. “Is it you?”

“Hey Rubes, it’s me. I wanted to check in on you.” She doesn’t dare tell her where she really is. In case it puts her in danger.

“Mom, are you okay? Is Aunt Lena with you?”

“Yes, she is. And the truth is, I am sick, so I have to stay in the hospital for a little while longer. But I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Can I come see you? I miss you.”

“Oh baby, I miss you too.” The tears flow harder, and she chokes back a sob. “But you can’t. It may be contagious, and I can’t risk you. Aunt Lena will be by to check on you, okay? And I’ll be home as soon as I’m better.”

It feels so futile. So banal of a promise. She can’t bring herself to lie further.

“But Mom, can't I just put on one of Lena's special hazmat suits? I'll be good!” Tears mangle part of her words, but Sam understands.

“No, you need to do what Aunt Lena says is best. She's good at what she does, okay? She's helping me too. I promise you, we'll get through this, okay?”

Ruby's sobs echo in Sam's ears. “Mom… I love you, okay? And maybe we can do a video call instead?”

No. No, she can't let Ruby see her in this state. “We'll see. I love you, Rubes. Love you so much. Be good for your Aunt Lena.” She hangs up before Ruby can say another word.

Lena speaks then. “Don’t worry about Ruby. I’ll take her to —”

“Don’t tell me where she is,” Sam interjects with a strangled sob. She looks up to see Lena fighting tears too. “Not until I’m cured.”

Lena nods as a few tears escape. That Sam can’t bear. To be the cause of it? She hides her face against her knees and curls up against the wall. Sobs broil down her body.

Behind her, Kieran’s Irish brogue sings a haunting tune that wraps around Sam, soothes her pain, until her sobs fade to ragged breathing and counting in multiples of four.

The next few weeks is torturous. Sam's hold on reality untethers as her sense of time and space evaporates into a haze of pain and fear. A war of fluorescent lights versus seething grey fog. They learn that the place Sam's mind goes is an alternate dimension related to the possession.

Waking from that dimension leaves Sam in a cold sweat. She leans against the forcefield with Lena leaning against the otherside. "How do you deal with this daily?" Sam wipes away her tears. "I — I don't know how to move forward. Not with — with that monster inside me."

"Acceptance of the truth is the first step," Lena admits. "I always had Kieran. They wrote in our shared journal and signed the entries. But to learn of new alters? Practice acceptance. You're already good at it."

"How can I accept that a blood-thirsty killer is inside me?" Sam whispers. "I never want to hurt anyone."

"It's not about accepting their actions, Sam. It's about accepting that they exist. You don't have to nor should you accept what they do." Lena shifts to press her hand against the forcefield. "Look at me, hun."

Sam turns and meets Lena's green eyes.

"My alters are me," she says, quietly. "We may have split into separate parts, each of unique in a way, but they are still me. But Reign is not you. Reign was forced on you. Accept she exists, but resist her control. This is your body."

"How do I do that?" Sam presses her hand over Lena's, the forcefield separating them from feeling the other's touch.

"You do it with me often. Ground oneself in the present. For you, ground yourself in your body. In your senses." Lena taps her ears and above her eyes. "It may feel like a fight, but you are strong." She taps her leg and tilts her head, her accent still the light one of Lena. "Since you go to that other dimension, try focusing on your body and how it feels. Imagine each sense, the height and weight, and clothes. Imagination is a powerful tool."

Sam ponders Lena's advice and wonders if she can pull it off while terrified out of her mind. Maybe if she practiced enough? "Can we go through this as an exercise? To practice?"

Lena smiles, faintly. "Sure."

They spend the next two hours practicing, and make it part of their daily activities. Each practice session, Sam feels a little stronger, more like she might actually be able to pull it off if she gets trapped in the other realm.

A week later, Lena attempts to capture data during Sam's times in the alternate dimension. One day she accidentally causes both Sam and Reign to manifest in that terrifying forest.

Branches curl toward her, and whispers coil around her. Shivering, she turns and freezes. An exact copy of herself stands a few feet away, clad in black, except her eyes are red. They shine in the dark fog.

She dives behind a tree.

“Sam, do you truly think you can resist me?” the words slide off the other's tongue like poisoned honey.

One second Reign is several trees away, and the next she's at Sam's side. Her hands reach for Sam's shoulder.

Sam throws herself backward. “Don't touch me.” She strives for bravado. Grabbing a stick, she swings it desperately.

Reign stalks her, moving unnaturally fast. One moment on Sam's left, the next on her right. Fog billows around her like monstrous wings, and the air charged with sparks of black lightning. Trees creak despite no wind. The cold leeches away Sam's energy.

Stay focused. Sam adapts her breathing to her Aikido training, her stance to a loose defensive one. This time her swing hits Reign in the chest.

Reign snaps the branch like a twig, and darts forward to snag Sam's throat. She's slammed against a tree. Red eyes bore into her. Whispers from the broiling fog chant, let go, let go.

No! She can’t leave Ruby. Or Lena.

She knees Reign in the stomach. The grip loosens enough for her to twist and perform a throw. Gasping in air, she stumbles backward. Her body — she needs to imagine what her body feels like. As she runs from Reign, who is staggering to her feet still, she pictures how her legs feel while running in the real world. How her muscles pump, how the fabric of her clothes rub against her skin, the way her hair falls across her neck and back, and the sweat that dampens her hair's roots.

She trips and falls through the ground and into the soft blankets of the medical bed. She's back in the forcefield room, far from Reign. Sam weeps and curls up, the fire in her veins pulses from the device on her shoulder. “No, no, don't do that again, Lena.”

“What happened?” Lena presses her hand against the forcefield, but she doesn't lower it or come closer.

“I was there with Reign.” Sam shudders. “God, that monster. You got to stop her, Lena. Please.”

“Oh crap.” Lena drops her hand to her side. “I — I got a sample of the enzyme causing the change just now. While you were passed out. I think I can synthesize a cure from it.”

Sam clings to the first good news in weeks. But like all good things, the very next day, the world erupts into chaos.

Two aliens rip apart concrete and metal and break into Lena’s lab. Seconds later, Supergirl and three others teleport into the room in a flash of red light. In the ensuing fight, Sam loses control.

She crashes into the nightmare realm. Mists seethe over her, and this time she can’t find her way back to her own body. Claw-like branches leer over her, whispers to let go tug at her ears, and the ground heaves like it breathes.

Desperate, she stumbles to her feet. Faces form in the mists and dive at her. She ducks and runs.

She trips over something soft. Turning, she gasps and jerks her leg off the body. A Korean woman lies there, her face locked in a silent scream.

Sam gasps and scrambles backward. Slipping, she tumbles down a ravine and into a cavern. Flickering blue light shimmers in its depths. One hand against the wall, she stumbles forward.

Turning a corner, she stops in shock. Black woman carves words into the sandstone rock. Names, places, but other words make no sense. Over and over, she carves and mutters incoherently.

"Hello?" Sam tries, but the woman doesn't respond. She only carves and shivers.

That’s when Sam sees firsthand how this realm eats away memories. Tears down the mind, until there is nothing left but to die.

She doesn’t know how long she’s there. But soon the whispers and growing pain starts to eat into her too. Her mind grows foggy, her memories slither away like oil.

She keeps the other woman company but struggles to remember why. Finds her own sharp rock and carves her name, Ruby's, and Lena’s along with anything else she can remember.

Faces form in the mists, and whispers slither like hands across her shoulders. She shivers and carves until her hands and arms ache.

The woman coughs, shakes, and freezes with glassy eyes. Sam watches in horror as the woman ceases to breath and tips over as if frozen solid. Mists coil over the body, faces form in the shadows, and mist hands sweep over the body.

Horror spikes, and Sam scrambles deeper into the cave. Near bubbling pools, one clear and one muddy. The walls of the cave close in on her.

Sobbing, she carves the names over and over. Figures coalesce, familiar until their faces twist into snarls, their eyes empty sockets. She huddles closer to the rock wall, ducks her head, and digs her rock deeper into the sandstone.

Her nails start to bleed, her palm raw. Still she carves.

A voice calls out her name. An almost familiar one. “Sam?”

She keeps carving. It’s another phantom. Another to distract her from her task.

“Sam. Sam, it’s me.” Gentle hands turn her face.

She looks into emerald eyes. “No — not real…” She tries to tug free, but this one is solid unlike the others. Fear curdles through her. She’s too weak too fight. Now they’ll kill her like the others.

“Sam, please, I really am here.” The green-eyed lady strokes her cheek in a familiar, almost calming way. “Count with me, okay? Four, eight, twelve, sixteen…”

“Twenty, twenty-four, twenty-eight…” Sam murmurs. Slowly, a memory surfaces of her doing exactly this with someone she loves. The name peels back. “Lena. You’re Lena.”

“Yes.” Lena embraces her. “Yes, it’s me.”

“But you — you’re not real.” Sam clings to her and a sob clogs her throat.

“I am. I really am.” Lena cards her fingers through Sam’s hair. “Supergirl and her friends helped me reach this place. She’s here with me, see?” She turns to look back, her arm still tight around Sam’s shoulders.

Two people stand behind Lena. One in a red cape with a red and blue suit. The other dressed in black with red hair cut short. Both familiar but the names escape Sam.

“Hey Sam,” the red-head says. “Remember me? We hang out a lot with your daughter. Gone clubbing a few times. You can drink me under the table.”

“Alex.” More names and memories bubble through the fog. “Supergirl?” She looks at the caped hero.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Supergirl smiles sadly. “Lena found a way to help you, but we need to find Reign first. We got to capture her. Go back to your body and signal us.”

“I — I don’t know how.”

“Hun, you do,” Lena says fiercely. “Just like you’ve always done for me when I’m lost in the fog.”

“Fog…” Sam struggles to remember, but the memories dance just out of reach. “What — what did I do for you?”

Lena breathes in sharply. She gently brushes Sam’s hair from her face. “I’ll teach you like you taught me. Count and breathe with me. Feel your body, use all of your senses.” She resumes counting. “Thirty-two, thirty-six, forty…”

Sam closes her eyes and leans her forehead against Lena’s shoulder. “Forty-four, forty-eight, fifty-two…” The multiples of four ground her, centers her breaths, and she feels a faint tug in her mind. She smells the air, feels Lena's touch against her skin, the weight of clothes on her body. As she continues to count with Lena, that tug grows stronger until it broils over.

She breaths in sharply and finds herself in a large cavern. On either side of her, two woman clad in a grey and black suit similar to her own chant in an unfamiliar language. Beyond them stands two people dressed in black robes with hoods, but they stand silent, eyes closed.

Energy seethes from the Reign-like women’s hands and her own. More sparks fly into the well in the center of the room. To her horror, with each pulse, the well burrows deeper, the bottom almost out of sight.

Quakes shimmer outward from the well, but the energy roots them. Meanwhile, the cavern itself shakes at each pulse, and a few stones fall near the hooded figures. Behind her, she sees a control panel with a blue crystal glowing in the center of it.

A memory surges through the simmering fog in her mind. That’s the same crystal she’d found when she went to speak to her adopted mother. It came from a pod in her mother's garage. Attackers had descended on them like rabid coyotes. She'd defended her mother, until a song ensnared her with pain. A dark fog blinded all her senses. She’d been trapped in a shroud of whispers, until she woke the next day in her bed at home.

Fury ignites. Lena is right yet again. Cultists did something, and it relates to that damn crystal.

It takes all of her strength to jerk herself out of the energy circle. Sparks sear across her skin.

She throws herself at the control panel, just as the two hooded figures call out in anger. She tugs it free. The energy currents flicker and go dark. She smashes the crystal against the console.

Howls of fury screech behind her. She’s ripped away from the panel, thrown across the cavern, and slams into stone. She stumbles to her feet, angry and desperate to stay in control.

The other two aliens attack, and she blocks their punches. Falls into her defensive stance. Throws one with a breath throw, and the other she dodges. Beyond them, the hooded figures start to chant, a harsh discordant melody. Black fog rises from the ground.

Sam knows she’s running out of time, but if she’s to get the signal out, she has to take out these assholes first.

She blocks their punches and tosses one of the Reign-like woman into the console. Strength beyond what she's ever felt burns through her, and she rips apart a rock to slam into the first Reign-like woman. She slumps against the broken console.

The second one catches her by surprise and slams a fist into her head. Sam stumbles, only to get another punch in the gut. She gasps and falls to her knees.

Dark fog curls around her legs.

But her body is still in the transformed state. She lets out a roar and ignites the heat vision. It slices through the cavern’s roof, burning through to the sky above.

The other Reign-like being punches her, and she skids across the ground. Her heat vision sputters to a stop. Another kick spends her spinning, and she lands far too close to the hooded figures. The dark fog coils around her, suffocates her breath, but dammit, if she’s going out, then she’s taking them with her.

She hurls herself into the hooded figures. One raises a hand, and she bounces against a shield.

Their feet still connect with the earth though. She digs her fingers deep and tugs upward with all her strength. The ground splits and the hooded figures shout. One tumbles into the pit, and the other snags a rock, holding on for dear life.

A chant sounds behind her. The remaining Reign-like asshole and sings a grating melody that bleeds into Sam's consciousness, like a worms burrowing into her flesh.

She can feel her consciousness start to slip away. She’s running out of time.

Desperate, she gathers the last vestiges of her will and rips up the ground and hurls it into the pit. The remaining figure falls screaming. Energy shoots upward, and the cavern shakes. Rocks slam down atop her. Her vision blackens.

She tumbles through the earth and hits the misty cavern of the nightmare realm. But no one is there. Lena and the others are gone. Shadows leer, lights flicker like sparks, and the pools behind her broil with wisps of light.

Terror threatens, but Sam grabs a rock and slams it against the sandstone. Ruby needs her. Lena needs her. She must hold tight to hope. Let it fuel her and burn away the memory-consuming fog.

She resumes her carving, and hours — days? — later violet energy sears into the ground around her. Pain rockets through her, and she screams in agony. Her cells rip and reform.

She’s thrown backward, through the earth, and slams into cold tile. There she shudders against the ground, spent.

“Sam?” Lena’s sweet voice, the one with the wisp of an accent, breaks through her exhaustion.

A warm blanket falls across her body. Sam blinks upward to see Lena holding a beaker stained with a black liquid. Relief surges at the sight of her beautiful face and emerald eyes.

“Do — do you have some Tylenol?” Sam manages a faint smile.

Lena drops to her side in relief, the beaker falls, and rolls under a half destroyed table. All around her lies the remains of a wrecked laboratory, and there, seated crosslegged near them is a cape-less Supergirl. She sights Alex and two others she doesn’t recognize sorting through the rubble.

“Sam.” Lena wraps her arms around her. Her warmth a balm to the cold that still clings to her from the nightmare realm. “God, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“You did it then?” She feels weak, shaky, but whole. Like a massive weight been lifted from her shoulders. “Destroyed Reign?”

“Obliterated her to dust,” Supergirl says, softly. “All thanks to Lena’s genius and a fancy, magical rock that hurt like hell to touch.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Sam,” Lena protests. “That signal you sent worked.”

“You stopped the cultists too,” Supergirl says, proudly. “Found them unconscious in that energy well. And you knocked out Reign. Made capturing her easy.”

“She did get feisty during the administering of the antidote,” Lena adds. She smiles tentatively, but her eyes still shine with a deep worry and sadness. “but we handled it.”

The tears in Lena’s eyes hurt to see. To know that Sam — even if it was some creepy alien possession using her body — caused that hurt? How much did it hurt her daughter too? How will they recover?

She wants to go home and hug Ruby, to reassure her that she’s back for good this time. To return to being just a CFO for Lena’s company. Back to her singleton self — as Lena often calls her.

But first, she wants to wipe away that worry from her best friend’s face.

“What can I say?” Sam jokes. “I just got that killing punch.” Her joke falls flat, and she ends up in tears instead. Who is she kidding? She can’t ever go back to the way things were after this. Her hands are stained now, even if it was another entity that used them for evil.

Lena holds her, gently rocking her. “Let it out, Sam. You’re safe now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers. She clings to Lena and huddles under the warmth of the red cape. “All this horror? All those people dead?”

“Hey, that wasn’t you.” Lena strokes her hair. “Don’t take on the crimes of another.”

“She’s right,” Supergirl says, gently. “Reign was forced onto you against your will. You are a victim. A survivor in this. And in time, you will heal. Take it in steps.”

Sam takes a shuddering breath. Those words are ones she’s often said to Lena. What had once been abstract prior, now blossoms into a deep understanding. Lena may not be trapped in a nightmare realm when other alters front, but the pain and fear that amnesiac moments cause? Sam understands now.

And now she can do better. For herself, Lena, and Ruby. To find a new path forward.

[v3nusxsky]

Be my good girl 18+

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Author note~ I hope I can do this prompt some good bc I came up with like 4 different ideas in my brainstorming process. Another late night writing of course I have my cookies and water. So here's your reminder to take care of yourself and go drink some water :)*

Prompt~ Reader is paying a visit to her wife and one thing leads to another. Larissa tells reader to be her good girl somehow. Smut pleaseeee ;)

Trigger warnings~ eating out finger!ng strap ! On mommy k!nk smutty smut

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Your relationship with Larissa Weems was one that you were quite proud of. I mean have you seen her? Gorgeous, stunningly tall, kind hearted, those sapphire blue eyes. Yes everything from head to toe was absolutely perfect. And even better? You got to call her your wife. Everyday you caught a glimpse of your stunning gold wedding band you were reminded that you were the luckiest girl in the world. Now you may be wondering what Larissa saw in the shy nerdy history teacher of Nevermore Academy. And truthfully you yourself had absolutely no clue. Your appearance wasn't much to be admired in your own opinion, yet Larissa still looked at you like there was nothing more beautiful than you left in the world.

Your hair was pulled into the chocolate curls were perfectly messy bun, thick black glasses perched on your nose, revealing but not too revealing outfit sat perfectly on all your curves. Maroon was definitely your colour and you knew that it would drive your wife wild. The heels you selected, simple black shoe with a slight heel just enough to add a bit of height to your already short frame. Even with the heels you just about came level to your wife's collarbones. This was all a part of your carefully thought out plan to test your wife's control over her own desires. And by the time you'd finished teaching your 5th years about the ancient Greeks it became clear your plan was working. You taught the lesson specifically on the myth of Medusa. One of your favourites if you were honest. History is something you are extremely passionate about and being able to share the extensive knowledge you had, filled you with an immense happiness.

As your students were filling out of your classroom immersed in their own conversations while you bid them goodbye. Even receiving a few "Goodbye mrs Weems" back. You watched as the groups of students as they scattered off in different directions. Rather interestingly for you, you noted that the two students you were secretly hoping would get together seemed to getting closer recently. Ah young love. You couldn't help but be excited about the fact. After all you were most definitely a hopeless romantic. The next period was your planning period so you had time to just observe the scenes in front of you. As the halls became quieter you could hear the familiar click of heels against the floor. A smiled graced your lips at the thought of your wife. It had only been 3 hours yet you missed her terribly.

"Hello darling" she whispered into your ear as she was coming behind you and gently placing her hands on your hips.

"Hi" you chuckled leaning back into your wife's arms still just looking at your surroundings. It was peaceful and quite now the students had all found their way to their fourth periods. The tranquil moment soon ended as you felt the slight pressure of your taller companions lips ghosting up and down your neck before suggesting you come to her office with her. I mean after all she knew your schedule so she knew their was no class for you until after the lunch break. With a quick nod you slipped your smaller hand into hers and allowed her to lead the way.

It wasn't long before you had reached the privacy of her office. Her eyes raking over your appearance with a subtle hint of lust lurking in those sapphire eyes you loved so much. Her lips collided with yours in a needy yet passionate kiss, backing you into the wall effectively pinning you there with a hand on the wall and the other gripping at your hips. You couldn't help the smile the crept into the kiss as your back hit the wall. After all that very action had caused even more arousal to pool between your thighs. The pair of you only pulling away when oxygen became a necessity.  Foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed and trying to steady your breathing once more.

"Rissa what was that for? I mean I'm not complaining at all but just uh..." you trailed off losing your train of thought at the smirk that graced her lips. You knew what that meant. Your plan had succeeded much to your delight.

You watched as she raked her eyes up and down your body once more. "Darling, it's like your trying to turn me on with this outfit. After all it is for me isn't it?"

"Only you Rissa" you confirmed knowing your wife had quite the possessive streak in her.

"Now tell me, why would you wear such a delicious outfit today? It's not really work attire is it dear? What were you trying to achieve besides frustrating me?" Her eyes darkened slightly and you knew this was your chance to add to her frustrations. After all the whole plan was to rile her up and achieve her touch all over your body.

"I think I've made my intentions quite clear Rissa." You stated smugly knowing just how to pull a reaction from your lover. You couldn't help but smile in delight as her fingers gripped tighter to your hip and tugged your body to her own.

"Oh you're going to regret that darling. But you're going to have to be quiet can you do that? You wouldn't want the rest of the school to hear just how needy you are when your screaming my name now would you?" She husked as her eyes bore down into your own. Her intense gaze was filled with so much need and desire you almost feel to your knees at her feet.

You nodded knowing damn well you wouldn't be able to keep quiet. But you would definitely try for her. The nod seemed to be enough for the taller women to lead you to your room just off from her office. You were rather glad for this fact. After all a bed was so much more comfortable than just a closest or somewhere hidden. Also your room provided options for Larissa to choose from. She loved to leave you guessing, never knowing her next move. Wordlessly Larissa found your gaze and got your consent by your act of submission. You stripped  off and kneeling at her feet. A well thought out agreed signal. If you were to kneel at her feet absolutely exposed for her you were at her disposal. The act immediately kick starting the basic rules you'd both agreed to. The only thing that would stop your wife from her plans would be if you were to say the words "gul" (yellow in Swedish) telling her you wanted to have a break/had a question on what she was doing. The other word "röd" (red in Swedish) immediately stopping the whole situation and she would jump into comfort mode. You'd only ever had to say röd three times. Each time you'd been treated with the upmost dignity, respect and care.

"Little one" the pet name causing a shiver to run down your body, "this outfit has been tormenting my thoughts all morning. I've not been able to get a single thing done. It's rather frustrating wouldn't you agree?" You hummed in response choosing to wait for the permission to actually use your words but not wanting to ignore the fact she was speaking to you.

"Now I think you've enjoyed that fact too much and need to be reminded of what your place is. Is that what you would like from me darling?"  Again you nodded quickly showing just how much you wanted that. Only then did she bring a hand to your hair and tilt your head upwards so you were looking into her eyes. "Words little one words" was cooed at you. Nervously the words tumbled out. "Yes I uh please"

With a small clap of her hands she chucked "Excellent. Now why don't you be a good girl and go get on the bed for me?" That sentence spurring you into action as you made a beeline for the bed. Positioning yourself into the centre of it. "Hmm good girl let's hope you stay this obedient for me" she praised watching your body respond to her words. "Aw look your so needy already and I've not touched you yet. Do you need something little one? Whatever could you need?" She pondered out loud as she walked around the room getting whatever she wanted for the activity. Also letting you sweat craving her touch but not being able to demand it.

"You Risaa, I need you" you couldn't help the desperate tone in your voice as you responded to the women you desperately craved. "Hmm I was hoping you'd say that." Was all that was said while she made her way to the bed and lent over your body to find your lips. A kiss was given showing you that she was in control of the situation. This kiss was loving yet dominant and it made you crave more. God how can she be so intoxicating. Kisses were placed over your cheeks, nose and even your eyelids before moving over to your neck. Larissa knew just how to drive you insane, she proved this as she sucked down hard against your pulse point enjoying the pathetic noises the action drew from you. Her teeth gently scraping over the skin before moving on. Kisses were trailed all over your collar bones and down your sternum before she kissed her way over to your right breast. Paying an almost worship like attention to it. Breathless moans escaping your lips at the gentle sensations causing more pleasure to find it's way to your core. Not wanting to neglect your left breast she paid the exact same attention to it before kissing down your stomach. Extra kisses were placed around your bellybutton due to the unexplainable insecurity you felt about your stomach. Her hands were trailing ever so lightly up and down your thighs. All you could feel was her.

"Remember little one, stay quiet for me and maybe you can touch mommy" you almost missed her command as she brought her lips to your clit in a sweet kiss, before sucking it into her mouth causing a moan to fall from your parted lips. Eating you out was something Larissa adored despite your fears at the beginning of your relationship. Her tongue continued to explore your folds slowly just savouring every taste. Moans falling from your lips as you brought your hands to her hair without thinking. You need more. You'd always need more of her.  However instead of more your wife pulled away from your sopping core. You could see your slick around her mouth as you whined "no no no I'm sorry mommy please I'm sorry."

"Now little one I didn't say you could do that. Don't you want to touch mommy later?"  She questioned the teasing evident in her tone.

"I do I do I'm sorry mommy" you whimpered pathetically.

"Behave then only good girls touch mommy" she reminded you the strictness in her tone told you that you were on thin ice here.

"I'll be good I'll be the goodest girl for you"

"Much better my darling now behave!" And with that her delicate fingers found their way into your soaked pussy. A moan tumbling from your lips as she began thrusting her fingers in and out. Her pace was maddeningly slow but she knew your body inside out, she was teasing you. "Please mommy more" you whimpered hoping she'd comply with your plea. In which she did her pace going from maddeningly slow to fast and hard fingers curling to hit your G spot. It wasn't long before you were chasing your own release. "Oh fuck please more please mommy I wanna cum" you managed to get out in between your moans and mewls at her actions. "So close mommy please can I."

"Cum with my name on your lips darling" that was all the permission you needed as you tumbled down the other side of your release. Your wife allowing you to ride out the waves of pleasure before slipping her fingers from your cunt. "Little one open" you immediately complied opening your mouth so she could put her fingers in it. "Be a dear and clean up this mess" and with that you licked and sucked your own essence from her fingers. Moaning at the taste of yourself. When she was satisfied with your cleaning job her fingers left your mouth with a satisfying plop.

Hearing the sounds of a harness being clicked into place had another wave of arousal coating your thighs. Fuck she wasn't done with you. "Little one I'm not done with you. Turn around and get on all fours" you complied on shaky legs due to your previous climax. A hand found it's way to your hair tugging at the band to let it flow freely over your shoulders. Only then did you feel a hand at your hips as Larissa steadily lined herself up with your entrance.

"You're going to take everything I give you little one. Don't waste any of it." And with that she slipped the fake cock into you. Pausing allowing you to adjust to her. After all she didn't want you in any discomfort while you had classes to teach. A moan of pleasure from you spurred her into action. Thrusting into you mercilessly. You were a moaning mess beneath her. And when she started to dirty talk you well you thought you were going to die. You could feel yourself chasing your body's second climax. "Mo-mmy fuck I close please" you moaned out only to whine when she slipped from your pussy. "Fuck" you whimpered as she waited for your body to have enough time to cool off slightly before slipping back into your core.

You'd lost count how many times you'd been edged now. All you were able to focus on was the feel of her pounding into you. "Please mommy please I can't..."

"Cum for me" and with that you found your release with her name falling from your lips. You rode your high out expecting her to pull herself from you but no she continued to fuse your bodies together. A brutal pace as she chased her own high. You were extremely sensitive and she knew this. "Mommy I can't I can't "you whimpered out in between moans.

"You can little one and you will, I want you to cum with me"

"Oh fuck me"

Her hand snaked round to find your clit causing you to howl and cum for her milking the fake cock for all it's worth. Your wife tumbling over her own release as she continued to pound into you enjoying the wet slapping sounds of skin.  She slipped out of you once more unclasping the strap, putting it to the side to deal with later. You were wrapped up in your wife's arms in a post-cortile boss. Your head resting on her chest listening to the sound of her heart as she pressed kisses onto your hair reassuring you that you were her good girl and you did so well for her. Here in your bubble is where you wished to stay forever however the bell rang signalling you'd missed lunch and would now have to leave the bubble you'd created.

Word count ~ 2684