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#cusp of the mend
danikamariewrites · 6 months
Note
Hey! Could I request Cassian saying to reader “who did this to you?” Maybe Devlon or someone hit her and Cassian goes feral, a bit more on the dark side. 😊
Protector
Cassian x reader
A/n: one of my fav tropes with one of my fav boys 😋
Warnings: injuries, abuse, violence
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Not wanting to give the camp anything to talk about you headed straight to Rhys’s house. Slamming the door shut you waited for Cassian and the others on the couch, cradling your mangled arm to your chest.
Your brother, Bade, has been your biggest bully all your life. He constantly used you as his personal punching bag. Usually it wasn’t too bad, a few bruises here, some cuts and scrapes there. This time he had taken things too far leaving you with a fractured wrist and some other broken bone in your arm, a black eye, and a nasty cut running through your eyebrow.
Your parents never did anything about it. Your mother and father always just saying “males will be males” and treating Bade like the golden child. You had had enough though. Today had shown you that Bade would never stop and the people who were supposed to love and protect you unconditionally weren’t going to make it stop.
You have no idea where you’d go but at least you still have your wings. They probably thought Bade hurt them so bad it was pointless to clip them. Another thing your parents were wrong about.
Cassian comes home first. He kicks the snow off his boots before looking at you. His rugged face changing from excitement from seeing you to concern and anger. Rushing over to you Cassian gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He tilts your face side to side. The frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Who did this to you?” He grits out. “My brother.” You said with slight hesitation. A sick part of you wanted to protect him, that small voice in the back of your mind saying he’s family. Cassian knelt between your legs rubbing your thighs lightly.
Cassian calls out to Rhys to bring a healer home in his mind. In that moment he was making a plan to get you to Velaris and out of this gods forsaken camp.
“He’s never going to hurt you again sweetheart, I promise.” You gently kiss his forehead and give him a sad smile. “Thank you my love.” The two of you wince as the burn of a bargain tattoo stings the inside of your wrists. Looking down you see the black ink formed a pair of wings in flight for the freedom your mate has promised you.
You stay with him that night, not wanting to return home to your fathers wrath for running off. You’ve always felt safe with Cassian. Even before the bond snapped you were always attached to each other. As you snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep you dreamt of a future with Cassian. Where you’re happy and surrounded by friends and family.
The next morning Cassian slips out of bed before you can wake up. Even though the camp healer mended all your injuries you still need rest. He kisses your forehead after getting dressed.
Shutting the door to the house his face turned to stone. Pure wrath swimming in his eyes. Cassian is on a war path. His goal; end your brother.
“Bade! You’re against Cassian. Get in the ring!” The commander yelled. Bade visibly paled at the sight of Cassian flexing and cracking his knuckles. Rhys and Azriel stand behind Cassian wearing matching stoic faces.
“Don’t go easy Cass. Y/n’s father needs to be taken down a few pegs anyway.” Rhys said in his mind. “There won’t be anything of this fucker left after I’m done.”
Stepping in the ring the males put up their fists and began circling each other. Cassian didn’t give Bade a chance to get a hit in. He immediately pounced on your brother, hitting him with a right hook. Then a blow to his stomach, then ribs.
Bade stumbled back, his face drenched in blood. The commander didn’t stop Cassian. Letting the beating continue. Cassian continued his assault until Bade was flat on his back on the cusp of consciousness. Cassian lowered himself on his haunches, gripping Bade’s blood soaked face in his large hand.
“You will never lay another hand on her. Or any female. Ever. Again. If I hear you are I’m going to kill you.” Cassian shoved his head into the ground so hard Bade passed out.
Getting up, he strode over to his brothers, wiping off his knuckles.
Tonight. Tonight he’d take you to Velaris. You’d live in the House of Wind and Mor would keep you company. You’d be part of the family. And most importantly, you’d be free.
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itisnotaphasemom · 4 days
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I might not be able to put this the right way, and maybe others have said this already,
but to me, the main thing about Cloud and Aerith is the way he tries to grow for her and because of her.
In a way, they could be quite similar. Both are incredibly lonely, and they share similar trauma. Both have lost their mothers in tragic, malicious ways. Both are confused about their identity and past. Cloud learns how much just he has forgotten and that something is very wrong with him, just like Aerith keeps finding out how little she actually knows about her ancestry or the circumstances of her mother's death.
Cloud and Aerith both realize this and are able to sympathize with one another. Aerith is incredibly patient with Cloud and him trying to uphold the walls he built around himself at all times.
I think Cloud knows there is a fundamental difference about them, though. And, that is that despite everything that has happened while Cloud has been putting up walls and has become hardened, Aerith has not. While Cloud looks to the past, is angered, shut off, and distant, Aerith has gone the opposite route. She remained soft and hopeful. It's not to say she isn't sad or lonely or angry, which she is, but she isn't faulting the world for this. She wants things to get better, instead of wanting revenge.
Generally, I think there are relationships that make you look to the past or to the future and I don't think there's right or wrong in that if it isn't too extreme.
But I think Aerith makes Cloud look into the future. I think he's always been either checked out about looking either way, or obsessed with the past, about what happened and how to mend it.
Aerith makes him believe in a future because she has been through similar things and she has come out on the other side hopeful. Because she is still good to people and because she still loves, she still cares. And I think this makes Cloud want to grow, too.
And he's showing this in some of Aerith's darkest moments. When she acknowledges her dark thoughts on the beach, he reacts with understanding, and he helps her going forward, supporting her when he can (even without the obligatory merc fee). He encourages her to speak out about her past at the lantern festival. I think as someone being taken in by a stranger as a child, essentially putting her guardian's life at risk and bringing heavy baggage along, she learned to have to be pleasant at all times to be loved. Through Cloud, she learns that this other side of her, the one that is struggling with embracing her difficult past and path forward, is also worthy of love and protection. She says to him on the beach, she is sure, he will love future Aerith, the one she is growing into right at that moment - she, too, is changing because of him.
These moments show he really wants to be there for her the same way she is there for him. He wants to make her happy and support her. He wants to protect her while she protects the world. He feels responsible for her, and it's a role he wants to grow into, and he does.
In a way, Clouds world just gets a lot bigger while Aerith is in it. When she is there, he actually laughs, he smiles like he does with no one else, and finally, he even cries holding her in his arms, when he was on the cusp of being turned into an emotionless weapon just moments before.
This, in turn, makes Aerith open up to him in a way she doesn't do with the others, too. They both see a side of the other person nobody else gets to see.
I think this is amplified in the ending when Cloud is literally the only person who knows what happened to her, that witnessed her death and who's able to see her afterward.
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blindmagdalena · 9 months
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Hiii, Amy, how are you? Like really, how are you? I hope you're well.
I saw you reblogged this post and a fic about Homelander literally eating a supe!reader who has fast healing would be awesome! Imagine, she's not bulletproof, she can't fly, her thing is just really fast healing, like Wolverine. One night, she offers Homelander her fresh because she loves him so much that she wants him to literally consume her, would he accept, would he say no, what would he do?
girl. i cannot believe you inspired me to write straight up erotic cannibalism. (yes i can.)
dead dove! do not eat! smut and literal eroticized cannibalism under the cut. lite blasphemy? 18+.
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It all begins with a bite.
Your hand in his hair, moaning in his ear. "Harder," you gasp, his teeth at your throat, teasing the delicate flesh there. He thinks you mean for him to fuck you harder, and he snaps his hips hard enough to rattle your teeth, but you shake your head.
"No, darling–bite me harder," you urge, legs locked tightly around his waist.
He obeys without a thought, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and shoulder. It doesn't matter how rough he is with you, it doesn't matter if he shatters you, your body mends by the time he draws back for the next thrust.
He likes the way the pain makes you moan, and he loves the way it makes your pussy clamp down on his cock. He's not convinced you even feel pain, not with how wet it makes you.
"Harder," you say again, yanking his hair roughly. "I want you to taste my blood."
Homelander is delirious with his own pleasure, so near to the cusp of release, he doesn't question it. His sharp teeth slide through your skin like butter, and the copper tang of your blood fills his mouth in an instant.
It makes you scream. He fucks you hard and fast through your orgasm, lapping up the blood from where you've already healed. If not for the familiar sweet taste of you, it would be like it was never yours.
You take him by the face and kiss him with more fervency than he's ever felt, licking your own blood from his teeth.
"Take more of me," you plead against his lips. "I love you. I love you so much. I want to give you everything." He doesn't understand what you mean. He has you. More than he's ever had anyone before you, more than he ever will.
So he thought.
“Bite me harder,” you keen, digging your nails into his back. You’re frail by superhuman standards, only a little stronger than a human, but your regenerative healing makes you practically indestructible. “I want you to fucking eat me.”
He moans outright when you drag your nails along his scalp.
Because you demand it, he does it again. He bites down, and both your hands cup the base of his skull as if you're nursing him against your body.
His lids flutter.
You feel incredible. You taste even better. Your touch has always made him salivate. His love for you has not been an end to his loneliness, it has become an extension of it.
When you're gone, it's as though the sun loses warmth. Color loses saturation. Food loses flavor. Where he once thought love, ever present in his heart, would reinvigorate the world, he has found this is only true when your hand is in his, when he is inside you, when the taste of you is raw on his tongue.
He must always keep you near. Without you, the world feels too much like a sterile white box beneath fluorescent lights.
"Eat," you whisper, quivering in his hold. "Feel me inside you."
Yes, he thinks. Stay with me.
Your body gives beneath the press of his teeth like it was made to. Blood carries bite-sized portions of you down his throat like the tide brings driftwood to the shore.
"That's it, baby," you moan, voice breathy. You sound as you do on the precipice of release, a swelling of need and incomprehensible pleasure. "I love you."
He believes you.
He tastes it in the spill of you down his throat, and in the white-hot clench of your body. The wet of your cunt, your blood, the saliva you swallow back.
You're hungry, too. You're left drooling as he feasts. He thrusts faster, lips pressed deep in your sinew.
To love is to devour.
To give.
He will give unto you as you have given unto him.
From the moment he met you, he was animal-like in his craving of you.
Perhaps this was always his natural trajectory. He has never known a love he did not choke down, swallow, tear apart at the seams.
You are the first capable of enduring him.
Every bite he takes of you replenishes itself in seconds. He can drag his tongue along his own teeth marks and feel your flesh push back against it, mending itself, born anew to be swallowed again.
This. This is what he has always needed. Too long have love and affection been a finite resource dangled at the end of the very stick they used to beat him. He bore this gnawing emptiness for so long, it grew teeth.
How did you know how to feed it?
He screws his eyes shut, keening into the bloodied crook of your neck.
"Let go," you whisper. "Let's fill each other." Your fingers are delicate in his hair. Your tenderness is relentless, worming deep into the rotted thing that drums in his breast. You dare his heart to beat for you, and suddenly he can't remember a time when it didn't.
"Come for me, baby."
Climax hits him so hard, he forgets how to breathe. He thinks he feels you shatter beneath him, but he can't be sure. You're whole again in seconds, your arms around his neck, your lips against his, your hearts beating against one another like caged birds as he pours himself into you in load after load after load after load.
You're both left panting. Sweat, blood, come and tears all salty and wet between your bodies.
He has taken your blood and your body into himself, and given you all he can in return.
Is this what they meant by holy communion?
He's convinced that it is.
This is the closest he has ever felt to heaven.
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meownotgood · 1 year
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heaven is a bedroom. / hayakawa aki
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Aki loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, and on mornings like these, giving his love to you is really the only thing that matters.
pairing: hayakawa aki x reader
word count: 5.3k
tags: 18+, reader is fem bodied, fingering, praise, creampie, aki is a huge softie, tender and intimate morning sex
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Your warmth is always the first thing to greet him whenever he awakes. 
The beginnings of sunlight peek through the gaps in the blinds, casting thin golden ribbons over the bed to frame your form and his. Aki's eyes flutter open, they adjust to the light, your arms around him tug him even closer to yourself. His thoughts swirl as he drowns in your body pressed against his, his muscles relax and the covers beg for him not to move. 
Aki whispers a soft good morning into your ear, his voice drowsy, his head still filled with sleepy, heavy fog. The sheets rustle when he snuggles closer, burying his head into the nape of your neck. You're so warm. 
His heart beats to a steady rhythm, his breathing is deep, slow. Carefully, he glides his palm under your shirt to rub circles onto your back; his hand pressed to your bare skin gives him the feeling of closeness to you he always seems to crave. 
The dreamy haze of the morning feels like home, it smells like the sharp, morning air and the scent of Aki's freshly washed, velvet-soft sheets. His fluffy covers envelop the two of you, the mattress dips to hold you snug; it's cozy, familiar. Sleep still muddles your mind, weighing down your bones. You whisper sweet nothings into his ear: quiet, tender little I love you's, and Aki can't help but sigh and cup your cheek, pulling your head towards his, and then leaning in to press his lips to your own. 
Love is a foreign concept to a sinner. Love is a privilege, it was never meant for someone like him. It isn't for a body scarred by devils, or for a heart that's been mended together. It's still something Aki is trying to grasp, it's still something he's not sure he even deserves. He's learning how to love more and more with each passing day. The only thing he's come to be sure of is that you are his salvation, and if love means anything to him, it's the way the letters of your name form around his lips. 
It's the way your kiss always feels like a fire in his chest, your soft lips on his and your tongue in his mouth. Love is in the way you whisper, Aki, I need you the moment he pulls away, out of breath. Your face is warm, your voice is desperate, and God, he needs you too. He needs to give you his love, the world, the rising sun, and his heart on a silver platter — He needs to give you absolutely everything. 
The day is beginning — It's arriving slowly, gently, with Aki's mouth on your neck, and when the only thing he cares about is what's happening right this second. Not his responsibilities, not his job, not his mission. Not anything he's supposed to do once the cusp of morning gives way to the daytime. Nothing else exists when it's just him, and it's just you.
He places gentle kisses down your nape, over your collarbones, and then onto your shoulders. His hands glide down your sides, his rough palms feel the curves and dips of your shape. He tries his best to memorize them. He wants to see you even if he went blind. He wants to know you even if he lost himself.
You feel his fingertips toy with the hem of your pajama bottoms, and when he looks up at you, eyelids heavy, gaze utterly lovesick, he asks in a smooth, deep tone, "Are you alright? Is it okay if I go a bit further?"
You're nodding as soon as he speaks, swiftly giving him permission to continue, and with gentle, hesitant movements, eyes still locked onto yours, Aki tugs your sweatpants down your legs. 
"Lift your hips for me, just a bit." He instructs, palms caressing your thighs before his fingers loop around your underwear, "There we go. I'm gonna take these off too, sweetheart. Hold still for me."
And when he does, pulling your underwear off and tossing it to his bedroom floor, your thighs are promptly pressing to each other. Aki holds them tenderly, his hands warm, his touch delicate. 
"You're okay. I want to see you, I wanna see how pretty you are. Can you show me?" With one hand, he reaches up, his fingers grasp your chin for a second and he coaxes you to look at him; his gaze is deep, his voice is reassuring, resolute — "Open your legs just a little. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I promise."
When your legs are bare and spread a bit, and when your body relaxes, Aki sits up, quickly grasping his shirt and tugging it over his head. His chest and his shoulders are littered with faded scars, his ribcage is fit with a few fresh, tender bruises; it's a sight you've grown used to seeing. You've traced those scars of his on countless nights before, you've tended to his newest wounds when he arrives home late in the night from another gruesome mission.
He leans over you, one hand cupping your jaw, the other massaging your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You reach up and brush his messy hair behind his ears, you fiddle with the pretty circular piercing on his lobe. 
Aki melts to your touch. His shoulders relax; he gives the tip of your nose a feather-light kiss, and then grabs your hand when it comes to rest on his cheek. He kisses the space where your palm meets your wrist. 
"Can I touch you?" He speaks softly, sweetly, he's mouthing the words into your arm, he's kissing every inch of your skin. You can hear his voice in your chest, you can feel it echo inside of your heart: "Where is it okay for me to touch?" You can understand the words he's left unspoken, too — I don't want to hurt you. I love you. 
Your hand grabs his, your fingers brush over his calloused knuckles, and you're leading him. You get lost in the deep blue of his eyes, in the way he draws his bottom lip between his teeth when you guide his hand to drift between your legs, in how his breath hitches and his expression softens, his cheeks tinged rosy once you press his fingers to your waiting cunt. 
"Right here? You want me to touch you here?" 
Aki swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. He drags his middle finger over your pussy, and he soaks the digit in your slick. You're dripping out onto him, making a mess of his hand. His fingertip is wet and sticky when he toys with your clit. He rubs in slow, faint circles, his breath comes out shaky, and he can't help but grin a little when your body shivers and your hips buck into his touch. 
"You're so sensitive… I've barely touched you." Aki coos, nearly in disbelief, his voice a bit breathless; even with your eyes shut tight, you can hear the smile in his tone, his half-hearted laugh when your thighs close around his arm, the stutter in his breathing when you whine his name in the form of a plea. 
He continues to play with your clit, he leans down until his hair is tickling your cheek and his breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Tell me what you need from me. I know you need me, so tell me. I want to hear you say it." 
His lips placing tiny kisses on your ear and his two fingers spreading your pussy are ample distractions, but you're somehow able to choke out just what he's looking for: Need you to touch me more, need your fingers inside, please, Aki.
And in no time at all, Aki gives you just that — He teases your entrance for a moment, he revels in the way you shake when he presses just the tip of his finger inside. When you're this desperate for him, he can't leave you waiting for long, and so he eases it in all the way, he crooks it into your sweet spot just slightly, just enough to make you sigh.
"That's it," He whispers, "Do you want another?" 
You mutter some desperate mhmm's, and Aki slowly pulls his middle finger out, aligning it with his ring before pressing both back deep inside you, nice and slow, teasingly, almost. You're filled with two of Aki's thick fingers, he's stretching you out around them as he slowly pumps them in, and then out. 
"There we go… Just like that. You're taking them well. You're so perfect." 
Aki fucks you with his fingers lovingly, languidly and carefully. He grips your waist tightly with his free hand. You're so wet, you're getting his fingers soaked, it's so easy for him to pump them inside you; his cock stiffens in his briefs at the thought, he feels himself throb when you cry out his name. Tingles shoot up his spine when you tangle your fingers in his hair and grip the strands hard. 
"S-Shit," Aki kisses your cheek, and then your forehead. It's taking all of his strength not to grind himself against you, especially when he's aching so bad, when he's so hard he can feel his dick sitting heavy in his sweatpants. You always do this to him, you get him so worked up when he hasn't even been touched; even just the anticipation of being touched by you makes him want to cum. 
But he doesn't, his breath is ragged and he's losing his composure but he focuses on pleasing you, he curls his fingers right into the spot that makes you melt for him. You buck into him once more, his hand finds the small of your back when it arches. Your body molds into his touch, you moan to the tune of his fingers inside you and God, Aki could never get enough of this. 
"You're so pretty, look at you," Aki is just as worked up as you are, he can hardly speak, his breath is warm when it fans over your face, "Baby, are you close? Let go for me, I've got you, I love you." 
You're falling apart on his fingers then, you're getting his hand slick and messy, and Aki loves you through it; he rubs your clit with his thumb, he kisses every inch of your neck, he presses his forehead to yours and slows the pace of his fingers. He closes his eyes, gasping, "That's it, that's it… So good, it feels so good to make you cum…" 
You're given a few moments to calm down and rest, your thoughts focused on Aki's shallow breathing before slowly, he drags his fingers out of you. He looks up to you, he asks, Are you okay? and when you answer with a nod, he's bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth. You watch through a half-lidded gaze as he tastes you with his eyes fluttered shut, his lips closed around his knuckles as he sucks on them, his tongue swirling around the digits as he tastes your sweetness.
"Wanna kiss you again. C'mere." — Fingers soaked in his spit, he reaches down to press them to your clit, and he rubs it gently while he captures you in a deep kiss, his mouth parted until you're tasting yourself on his tongue. 
He's swiftly fumbling to pull down his pants in between sloppy kisses, he exhales little groans into your mouth. There's a moment of reprieve when he pulls away to catch his breath and his gaze meets yours, his sweatpants halfway down his thighs, his cheeks red, his bangs messy over his face. His eyes flicker over your face, he hesitates for a few seconds. 
"You're everything to me," He says, and he's so genuine, so hopelessly in love, "Did you know that?" 
You can't help but smirk, push on his chest playfully, and reply, "Of course." 
Honestly, how could you not know? Aki would take a bullet for you and you know it, he'd give you his heart right out of his chest if yours ever stopped beating, but all you want to do is keep him safe. The only thing you've ever wanted since you met him, since you first held his cold hands in your own and told him you loved him was to see him smile just like this, a dumb grin on his face as he rubs your head and softly pushes you back. 
All you've wanted is to give him a taste of comfort and simplicity, of everything he's always wanted but has never had. You wished to have a quiet life with him that consists of love and nothing more, nothing complicated, nothing grief-stricken. All you've ever desired out of him is whatever he's willing to give you, and if there's one thing you know, it's that Aki longs to provide you with everything you need. 
So that's why when he's muttering something in your ear about getting up and making breakfast, you're tugging him closer by his arms, you're running your palms over his chest and his stomach, you're feeling the shape of his abs and the curve of his hips. His breath gets a little faster, he wraps his arms around your back and rests his head on your shoulder. 
Aki, we can make breakfast later. I need more, and you need more too, don't you? 
"I-" Aki's hips shift, he stalls and swallows the lump in his throat before nuzzling his nose into your skin, inhaling your familiar, comforting scent. Finally, he admits, "Yeah. I want to keep going, can we?" 
Your palm reaches his boxers; you cup his half-hard cock in your hand and it's so warm, already so thick. Aki sighs, eagerly rutting into your touch without even thinking. His lips ghost over your jaw, he reaches down and grabs your hand, caressing the back of it as he presses it firmer to himself. 
His breath is shaky and quiet. He guides you to wrap your fingers around the hem of his briefs and tug them down, he's trembling a little as he brings your hand to his cock and shows you how to fist it, coaxing glossy precum from his slit. It oozes down his shaft, it gets your hand and his own slick and wet. He groans and whines your name so softly you almost don't hear it.
You repeat his name back to him: Aki… 
"God," Aki's voice is close to your ear, he's breathing hard and heavy, "Your hand… It's so soft, it feels so good- Please, I need more, need to give you some more…" He moves his hips, thrusting himself into your grip, "Need to give you my c-cock, you deserve it, don't you?" 
His voice stutters around the words, he gasps when you let go of him and push his hand away, securing your legs around the small of his back. 
You deserve it, of course you do. You've become everything to him, you've turned into the reason why he keeps going. You have shown more love to him than the entire universe has. He would fall deeper into each circle of hell just to be with you — but your touch is something holy, you're his idea of an angel, and you take him to the heavens, to a place between the sky and the stars where there's no chance of coming down and thankfully, he would never want to. 
You deserve anything and everything. Someone as important to him as you, who showed him what it's like to love and be loved, who cared for him when he was sinking, and when he was drowning, who loved him even more so; someone like you is deserving of his utter devotion, so that's what he's gonna give to you. 
Aki grips your waist tightly. He kisses your lips once more, for longer this time. The head of his cock teases your entrance, his lips taste like they're dripping with honey. 
He pulls away, he cups your cheek softly, he stares into your eyes. His chest heaves as he quietly asks, "Are you ready? You're alright with this, aren't you? I'll stop if you need me to."
Your response comes immediately and unwaveringly: Yes, and it's alright. Are you alright, Aki? 
"Yeah, more than alright, definitely." Aki's face goes soft, his eyes become glazed over with affection. "I love you. I'll be gentle. I want to make you happy, sweetheart. That's all I care about." 
As you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, Aki can't wait any longer — He holds you by your waist while he slowly eases himself inside of you, he gasps into your mouth, he kisses you a little harder. He fills you slowly, tenderly, he gives you the chance to adjust to how he feels inside you, and he lifts you by your hips to get a better angle. 
"God, fuck, you're-" Aki's words are nothing more than messy slurs into your mouth, and he moans before tearing himself away and breathing in a long, shaky breath to regain his bearings. 
"I… I want to give you all of it. I wanna be all the way inside you, is that okay? Can you take it?" 
Mhmm. For him, you can take it, you can do so much better than that. You smile, and you beg, Give me more. 
So he does: Aki presses in to the hilt, he fills you with everything he has. You feel so amazing around him, it feels so fucking good to be all the way inside, to feel you all around him, to be connected. Your cunt is squeezing him, you're tight and warm and it's perfect, all at once. His hips are shoved against your own, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. His head falls to your shoulder and he exhales a hot, heavy breath. 
Aki gasps, "Love you, I love you."
He could stay like this forever. He could spend the rest of the days he has left just like this, your body pressed close to his, the two of you cuddled up while he fills you. He could enjoy this lovely form of intimacy with every last fiber of his soul, he could show you each part of himself, until you and him are one in every conceivable way. There's nothing he wants more than that. There's no-one he adores more than you. 
The sun has risen higher in the sky, the bedroom is filled with even more pockets of light and sections of warmth. If he had it his way, this is how Aki would spend every single morning: making love to you so you know his heart is yours. 
"Feels so good, so good," Aki holds you closer, his breathing begins to steady, "I really love you, I love you so much." 
His hips start up a very careful, shallow rhythm; he stays deep inside, and he's barely moving, barely rutting into you, but even just this is enough to make him whine, his voice loud, high-pitched. It's enough to compel him to grab your hand in his own and squeeze it tightly, lacing his fingers around yours. His body on top of yours has you caged in, but when it's Aki, it's a comfortable kind of feeling. You feel safe when you're under him.
He nips at your neck, he leaves impressions of his teeth that he's sure he'll admire later when the two of you are getting dressed. When this moment ends, he'll kiss your lips and each one of the marks he's left as he's buttoning up your shirt. He'll rest his head on your shoulder and rub your thighs if they're sore while you both brush your teeth. You'll sit in his lap while he sips his coffee, and maybe you'll end up falling asleep on him, leaving Aki to hold you and ignore the rest of the world for just a little while longer. 
"So good to me, you're so beautiful," Aki pulls away from your neck, he pushes himself up with his hands and stares at you beneath him. His long hair frames his face, his earrings glint in the early morning light. His pupils are blown, the deep blue of his iris captures the sun, like the way the horizon meets the sea.
He's blushing hard, all the way to the tips of his ears, his face is a warm shade of red. Sweat keeps his bangs sticking to his forehead, droplets drip down his chest and his collarbones. 
"You're pretty," Aki mumbles between staggered breaths, and he smiles ever-so slightly, "You're always pretty." 
You could say the same thing about him. 
Then, he starts to move a bit faster; he takes his time dragging his cock nearly all the way out, until you're filled with just the fat head. He takes a deep breath in, and he eases it back inside, giving you everything nice and deep before repeating the process again, and again. His eyelashes flutter, his eyebrows pinch — "You feel so amazing," Aki sighs, "Like heaven." 
It feels so good when he's fucking you like this. There's something about the way Aki makes love to you that does it for you every time. He's so gentle, he ruts into you with deep, slow rolls of his hips. He would never hurt you, and he knows how to please you: he's memorized it ever since the first night you gave yourself to him.
And there's something about the way you feel, warm and divine and like everything Aki thinks he's ever needed. There's something about the way you look when he's deep inside you, how you stare at him like you trust him, like you're in love with him. You tug him closer and say his name like he's precious, and he's sure this is what it feels like to have someone be made for you.
You're his destiny, you always were. He knows that sounds stupid. But you probably will be his in the afterlife, or whatever life comes after this one, too. There is no chance in hell it could be anyone but you. 
His eyes flicker from your face to between your legs, he watches how your expression changes each time he thrusts deep inside, he looks downward and fixates on the sight of your cunt taking his cock. His bed creaks and shifts a little with each of his movements. The quiet sound of skin hitting skin echoes with your gasps, and with his desperate groans. 
"Say my name again," Aki says abruptly, and his bottom lip quivers, his whole body shudders and tenses, "I wanna hear you say it."
You nod, you mumble his name into his ear, you wrap your arms around his back and trace the scars between his shoulder blades while you murmur it softly. Say it again, Aki begs, and you work your fingers through his hair from the back of his neck and mutter it more, you chant his name over and over again when he breathlessly asks, Once more, once more for me, please.
You cry out for him when he presses into you hard, you gasp and toss your head back into the pillows. For him, it's all for him, and that makes his heart swell and his head spin, it makes his dick throb inside.
You can feel him in your stomach, you can feel how his cock twitches and his thighs shake every time the syllables of his own name leave your mouth. You can hear his lovesick whines, you can smell his enveloping scent, so rich and familiar. His lips pepper your jaw with insistent kisses, he whimpers from the pleasure, from the intensity. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and threaten to spill with each tender thrust into you.
He's getting closer, he's fucking you sloppier, his moans are getting louder, needier.
"I love you," Aki chokes out; his voice breaks at the end, and it's taken on a sweet sort of tone, the tone only you get to hear, only when he's falling apart at the seams. And when you say it back, when you tell him you love him, he can't help but lift your thighs and grip your waist and fuck you deeper. 
"F-Fuck, sweetheart-" He gasps out your name, and his heart pounds faster, so hard it feels like it might beat right out of his chest, "I'm close, I'm so close, I'm gonna cum, I wanna cum with you-" 
Your legs wrap around his back and pull him in, you hold his cheek and kiss him softly. Aki kisses back with trembling lips, with muffled noises into your mouth and meager gasps for air. His eyes meet yours when he pulls away, and they're glazed over with lust, his eyelids are heavy and drooping.
Cum inside me, please, Aki? 
Aki stutters, his face blushes even deeper and he dips his head to hide it. But he nods, he doesn't think twice before he answers, "I will, I'll cum inside you baby, I will."
His pace is sloppy, he can't stop gasping, and with one more look into your pretty eyes, his fingers grasping your chin, he's falling into you. He's wrapping his arms around your figure and holding you close, he's dragging his lips over your ear and grabbing your hand.
"Oh G-God, I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything," The tension is building and building, it's about to snap, and before he knows it, Aki is thrusting into you faster, more desperately — He's got tears in his eyes, his heart is skipping incessantly. 
He presses his body to yours as close as he can get, his pelvis ruts against your clit, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'm gonna give it to you- Cum with me, cum with me please." 
Aki squeezes your hand, his fingers tremble, he falls from the edge at the same time he brings you to it; he kisses your lips as you fall apart around each other. He feels you pulse around him, he pumps you full of his warm cum — It drips from your cunt and dirties the sheets as he fucks you through his orgasm. 
His breath is shaky, loud, his hips start to slow. He keeps his forehead pressed to yours, and you can feel his tears on your skin: little wet droplets that fall from his eyelashes to soak your cheeks. His voice is weak, he whispers sweet nothings as he starts to come down: I love you, I love you, love you so much… You're so perfect, so good, you make me feel so good. Just breathe, just breathe… I love you. I really, really love you. 
Eventually, pleasure makes way to exhaustion, and after pulling out of you slowly, with a deep, tired exhale, Aki collapses on top of you. His weight pins you to the mattress, his body is warm and slick with sweat, he smells like sex and like a scent that's so undeniably him it makes you feel at home. You can feel his heart beating in his chest; it's slowing down, it's beginning to sync with the rhythm of your own. 
For a while, there's nothing. Just the two of your bodies pressed infinitely close, just Aki's arms sprawled around you and his figure on top of your own. Your hand is still in his, you're comfortable and tired. His deep breath in your ear starts to lull you back to sleep, light creeps in through the curtains and illuminates the room even further. The alarm clock on his dresser ticks, ticks. You turn your head to look at the screen. It's just past 10 in the morning.
You wiggle your arm out from under him, and your hand comes to grip his shoulder, you shake him a little. "Aki," You start, and he grumbles into your ear. "Come on. We should get up." 
Aki shifts (remarkable, since you were sure he wouldn't even move), and he opens his eyes slowly while he pushes himself up off of you. His vision is blurry, it swirls with stars and static. It takes a few more blinks for it to return to normal. 
"Why?" 
He sounds so genuine when he says that, so confused and honest you can't hide the big smile forming on your face. 
You answer, "Because it's time to get out of bed, dummy. You don't want to?" 
"No," Aki pulls off you, the mattress shakes when he flops onto his back beside you. He folds his hands over his chest, his dark hair fans out over the pillows and he stares at the ceiling. "I want to stay in bed all day." 
You prop yourself up on your elbow, staring at him. Strands of his hair are sticking up everywhere, his chest is rising and falling to calm, steady rhythm. "Is that an attempt at sarcasm?"
Aki shrugs. "Maybe. It depends if you also want to stay in bed all day." 
He tilts his head towards you, he catches your gaze for a few fleeting seconds, and you roll your eyes. You don't respond, and Aki watches as you instead reach over to the nightstand and grab his hair tie, then his lighter. You're about to fall into the usual after-sex routine, where you place a cigarette between his lips and light it for him, where he ties up his messy hair, and when he takes smoke into his lungs and breathes it into the air with you right beside him — but Aki stops you before you can pull one of the cigarettes from the package.
"Wait," He reaches out, he grips your wrist. His gaze meets yours again, his eyes soft, his cheeks rosy. "I'll smoke later. I wanna hold you. Just c'mere." 
You freeze, but in the end, you're placing the box of cigarettes and the sky-blue lighter back on the edge of the nightstand and curling up by Aki's side, your head on his chest, his arm around you. He kisses the crown of your head, he grabs the blankets and tugs them over you to keep you warm. He relaxes back into the soft, velvet sheets. 
You can hear the sound of his heartbeat, the lull of his quiet breathing. You're trying to stay awake, but you're quickly falling back asleep, and Aki rubs your back soothingly, he feels you start to still.
He's back right where he started now, with you in his arms. 
He'll get up later. Soon, you'll both be ready to start the day, he'll help you clean up and get comfy clothes on, he'll have his morning cigarette on the balcony while you run a warm bath. He'll make breakfast for you like he promised, he'll eat with you across from him, with you kicking at his feet from under the table to make him smile. He doesn't have much to do today, thankfully. He doesn't have to work. You'll spend the day together, just as you began it together.
Just not right now. He's going to let you sleep for a while longer, he's decided. He'll stare at the sunlight on the walls and enjoy this moment for as long as you'll allow him to. It's funny, this morning isn't even over yet, and he's already sitting here thinking about the next one.
Aki is sure he wants to spend every single morning like this from now on.
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sunshinescribes · 1 year
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Only Love Can Hurt Like This - 4
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Part 4 of Continuum (FINALE)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader
Rating: EXPLICIT
Warnings: Blowjob, Makeup Sex, Breeding Kink (if ya squint), Fluff
There is a saying your elders often whispered to the curious and naive youth in your village: Love is a despot who spares no one.
The same words had been spoken to you when you were just a child on the cusp of adolescence, with curious, lingering eyes as you beheld the boys in your village who had once been tiny and awkward, now tall and thickset, with unrecognizably deep voices.
You hadn’t understood what it meant back then, but you certainly understood it now, as the sea separated you from the one person you desired most.
You had believed that your heartache would mend and that your decision—the right decision—to put the needs of your country over your own desires would bring you relief. You hadn’t expected it to be immediate, but you had expected it—that same ease and warmth that you had felt when you confessed your love for Namor to your king.
Anguish was your only companion, and try as you might, you could not be free of it.
When you lay in bed at night, your mind would wander back to nights spent with Namor, breathless and drunk on the feel of him—his tongue, his fingers, so attuned to your pleasure in a way you had not known before him. He would whisper filth and encouragements in your ear—against your warm skin—as he brought you to the height of your ecstasy.
The memories made the ache in your chest metastasize, making your bed feel cold and empty. You could lie to yourself and say you only missed the mind-shattering sex, but it was more than that. You missed the moments after, the comfortable silence as he held you close—your inquiries about the parts of Talokan you hadn’t seen. The things he missed most when he was away—and in turn, he would ask similar questions, holding onto every word you spoke until time slipped away from you both and the morning sun peaked over the horizon.
You could not stand to reminisce, contemplating what you had lost. You had taken to sleeping on your couch—a simple remedy—but then came the dreams dripping in honey.
You, decorated in jade and sheer fabric that pooled at your feet. Your hand absentmindedly stroked your stomach as you stared at the ornately dressed god-king before you. His fingers moved expertly with a brush as he added a quick stroke of blue paint to another one of his murals. You hissed as you felt the lightning-quick twist in your stomach—a familiar feeling these past couple of months. Namor turned, quickly setting his brush aside before coming to your side. His voice was low and comforting as he placed a warm hand over your stomach.
"You should be resting," he whispered, concern swimming in those dark eyes of his as they flitted over your features, searching for a hint of any lingering discomfort. Finding none, he rested his pointed ear against your abdomen.
You smiled at him, threading your fingers through his dark tresses. He hummed appreciatively, his eyes fluttering closed as you continued.
"I am fine," you insisted, before turning your gaze to the mural Namor had been working on. "Besides, how can I rest when you finally allow me to watch you paint?"
"I have not denied you the pleasure."
"No," you sighed, "but you always work on them when I’m asleep."
Namor turned his head, his dark eyes opening to gaze up at you. They were impossibly soft, as if to him you held the moon, and how uncharacteristic it was of the man you had once known—the arrogant god-king you had despised a year ago.
"Rest, and I will continue when you wake." He placed a kiss on your clothed stomach before whispering a string of words in his native tongue that your ears could not pick up. "You need your strength, my love, as does our child."
You woke from your dream with a start, blinking away tears as you slowly took in the darkness of your home. The dream had seemed so real that you could feel the lingering warmth of Namor’s hand—the scent of salt and agave.
Your heart wept for that dream—for the future you would now never have—and you prayed to Bast as sunlight filtered through your window.
I did the right thing. Let my heart heal. Do not allow me to suffer.
If Bast had heard your plea, she failed to take pity on you.
The days came and went, and you were plagued with honeyed fantasies that left you wanting. No, your heartache had not subsided; it festered and spread into every part of you, deep to the marrow.
If Namor haunted your dreams, then you would evade sleep as best you could. Late nights and caffeine became your new norm, and how bleary you grew running on a couple hours of sleep—how juvenile and nonsensical your mistakes tended to be when you worked on reports for your king, or how heavy your eyes would feel during council meetings— You were ashamed to know that on occasion you fell asleep with your cheek resting against your palm, and after a moment of sweet silence, you would abruptly be awoken by your shifting elbow or the soft tap on your shoulder—usually T’Kawe, but sometimes your king.
Such was the occurrence today.
You whispered your apologies, but you could see the unease in M’Baku’s face as his dark eyes inspected you.
If you looked half as tired as you felt, you could only imagine what a sight you must have been.
The meeting concluded soon after with little issue. As tribe leaders lifted from their seats and filtered out of the throne room, M’Baku took to your side with deftness that surprised you.
"Are you unwell?" M’Baku questioned, his eyes sweeping over your face one more time as if to confirm his suspicions.
"No." A lie, but you were certain your king’s concern did not extend to the matters of the heart.
"You have been tired lately. Unequipped…" M’Baku lifted his fingers to thread through his peppered beard. His eyes fell to the ground as he contemplated. "Take a few days to yourself."
You opened your mouth to protest, but M’Baku held up his hand before the words could escape your lips.
"We will not debate this. I need you well, and clearly you are not."
You bit the inside of your cheek, frustration and grief eating away at you. If only your king knew that being alone with your thoughts was the last thing you needed—that the respite he wished for you would not bring the relief he expected.
Instead of returning home as M’Baku had encouraged, you made your way through the busy markets of Birnin Zana. You slipped past colorful stalls and smiled at familiar merchants that flashed their wares enticingly—necklaces made of bone and brass, golden cuffs that glinted and gleamed, intricate beaded chokers. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was a jeweler in Wakanda who worked with jade. 
Shaking the thought away, you made your way towards the heavenly scent of sizzling meat and cinnamon. Braised lamb stew was a favorite of yours; the fatty meat was always so moist and tender. The rich broth was like a balm to your tortured soul, taking you back to your younger days in your village, free of worry, full of love, and strong enough to choke.
You spent your first day of rest like this, holding on to the familiarity of your homeland while also feeling as if you were wading through water, lost.
The second day wasn’t nearly as eventful as the first. You called T’Kawe through your kimoyo beads, hoping he wasn’t aware of your mandated rest. Your hope shattered when he didn’t pick up, and you didn’t even waste time trying to get in contact with Agent Ross. If T’Kawe hadn’t gotten to him first about your current situation, M’Baku certainly had.
The rest of your day was a blur. You wandered through your home with the simple task of keeping yourself as busy as you possibly could. You cleaned and rearranged your furniture until your living room became unrecognizable, and you contemplated painting your bedroom walls.
Sleep had come to you easily that night, but your dreams were still haunted by beautiful fantasies.
The third day, you sat on your couch, legs tucked close to your body, as you tried to drown out your thoughts and the world around you as you flipped through several Wakandan stations on your television. You had thought about returning to the markets, but the sudden onslaught of heavy raindrops and strong wind deterred you.
You would return to the palace tomorrow, whether M’Baku liked it or not, his good intentions be damned. If he wanted to know what ailed you, then you would tell him plainly. Your heart was broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces that you couldn’t possibly hope to put back together. Where would you even start?
You were homesick, but for a person instead of a place. There was no remedy for that.
A sudden knock ripped you from your reverie. You glanced at your door curiously before lifting from your couch. It couldn’t be M’Baku, far too busy with his duties to venture this far from the Golden City, and he wouldn’t need to. You were always a call away. T’Kawe seemed optimal, but you hadn’t heard from him since the day M’Baku declared your repose.
It could be your friends, but the weather was less than ideal for excursions, and they had lives as busy as yours—perhaps even more so.
You pulled your door open, still wondering who stood on the other side.
You froze the second your eyes caught a glimpse of brown skin and umber eyes. You blinked, stunned, as you took in the image of Namor standing before you, raindrops catching in his thick lashes, trickling down the curve of his jaw, and trailing a path down the expanse of his exposed chest.
"Why?" Your voice shook, your eyes already burning with tears as you pushed past Namor, your attention now turned towards the gray sky. "Why are you torturing me?"
The Xhosa you spoke was quick—desperate even—as you squinted skyward, glaring at dark clouds as if your rage would compel Bast to finally look upon you.
"Is this my punishment? To be haunted in dreams and while awake?"
Your only answer was the howling wind. It was so loud, you nearly missed the call of your name.
You turned, the rain long forgotten, as you glanced at Namor. His dark brows were drawn close, and you could see the concern swimming in his eyes. It took you back to that fateful day on the balcony of the royal palace, where he had opened his heart to you and asked you to share it with him.
"You aren’t here," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
You had seen your own pain reflected in his eyes the night you chose your duty over your heart. You knew he was a man of his word, and he had been painfully clear when he offered his ultimatum.
I will not return again. Not to you.
You started to walk past this illusion of Namor before you felt calloused fingers catch your wrist. His hold was light enough that you could easily pull away, and yet the warmth of his touch anchored you.
"I am no trick of your gods." His brown eyes held you unwaveringly. "I am here."
You blinked up at him dumbly. The uncertainty you felt must have shown in your expression, because Namor lifted your hand to his mouth. His plush lips brush against the tips of your fingers.
You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched him. Wet strands clung to his forehead, making him look younger, as rain continued to trickle down his handsome face and catch in his lashes and Balbo beard.
Wordlessly, you lead him back to your home, retreating from the growing tempest.
Your mind was racing with questions, and while joy bloomed in your heart at the sight of Namor, anxiety also lingered as you thought of your king.
You leaned against your couch, your fingers absentmindedly running across the velvety fabric as if trying to rid them of the lingering heat of Namor’s lips. Your eyes flitted from him to the couch as you tried to school your emotions as best you could.
"You said you wouldn’t come back."
Namor nodded.   "Yes."
"And yet here you are. Why?" You meant for the question to sound more accusatory than curious, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to know what could possibly compel him to go back on his word.
"Because you linger. In Talokan. In my heart. There is no place I can go where I am free of you."
Namor stepped towards you, and although you knew keeping your distance would make it easier to turn him away, you desperately wanted him close. You wanted the warmth of his lips and powerful hands, the only remedy for your affliction. Even if it was only for a moment, it would be enough.
"Still, I would have endured it. You had made your choice."
You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. Your breath caught as your heart hammered in your chest.
"What changed your mind?"
"Your king."
You noticed the subtle curl of his lips as your brows furrowed. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out when. There had been no scheduled diplomatic meetings, and you knew Namor was not one to be summoned abruptly.
"He came to Talokan." You hardly believed the words as they passed your lips.
"He did. I will admit, I was angry." His mouth twisted into a frown as he recounted the events that unfolded. "You were not by my side, and I blamed him for it... but then your king spoke of you. Of how miserable you seemed, and how he felt responsible for it."
You were rendered speechless, imagining M’Baku standing before Namor for your sake. You hadn’t thought you had been so obvious—thought M’Baku had truly believed you were simply sick. You had underestimated his perceptiveness.
What more had your king said? What had both given?
"And?"
"We came to an agreement," he whispered.
Namor lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip as his own pulled into a soft smile that nearly forced the air from your lungs.
"A stronger alliance through the union of Wakanda’s ambassador and Talokan’s king"
Your mind was reeling. Wakanda had no ambassador. There had never truly been a need for one when your homeland was safe and hidden from the outside world, seen as nothing more than a third-world country that few cast their sights on. Wakanda had no ambassador after the truth had been revealed to the world, and your homeland found that there were no allies deserving or needed.
But so much had changed since then—since Namor and his people had come from the depths of the ocean.
"If it is what you want," Namor added with a hint of hope in his voice.
"It seems an unfair trade," you contended.
Political alliances through marriage were common, but you couldn’t think of one such as this. It would surely raise a few 
Namor tsked, his lips pulling into a playful frown as he tipped your face closer to his.
"Anyone who disagrees would have to reason with both me and your king."
"An impossible task," you joked.
Namor laughed. That deep, hearty laugh that made your heart sing You couldn’t help but smile—Bast, it felt so good to smile. You felt like the sun had made its home in your chest, filling you with an all-soothing warmth.
It was only undone by his soft and languid lips, as if to remember the taste of you—the way you both fit so well. Your hand trailed up his neck, digging into the dark, damp curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled Namor closer.
He may have felt inclined to take it slow, his patience a marvel at times to you, but you could hardly think of anything besides showing him how much you had missed him—desperately, to the point of madness.
You slowly sank to your knees, eyes fixed on Namor’s face, as your hands caught on the green shorts that did very little to hide the erection pressing against the fitted fabric.
His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he blinked down at you, and his voice was rough as he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Apologizing."
You pulled his shorts down the length of his thick legs, giving him a coy look before turning your attention to his impressive length as it bobbed before you, so painfully needy. You wondered if he had tortured himself with memories of you, begrudgingly fisting himself to lust-filled memories with the belief that he could not replace you or have you again.
Namor hissed as you glided your tongue across the head of his dick, slow, and shy, teasing. You repeated the action a few times before he cursed in his mother tongue.
"This does not feel like an apology."
If you weren’t so drunk on the thought of making him unravel before you, you might have rolled your eyes.
So much for patience.
You took his hard length into your mouth, slowly acclimating as drool dribbled down his shaft. You curled your fingers around the base of his pretty dick, tugging his flesh with enough force to make Namor groan as if in pain. You dipped your head, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to take him deeper and pull back up, a sinful rhythm of too much and not enough.
Namor hissed your name, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rocking despite himself, chasing the heat and slick of your mouth.
"Just like that..." His eyes opened, finding yours. His lips curled into a gorgeous smile as he watched you take him. "So beautiful."
Bast, you could feel the wetness between your thighs, intoxicated by the sight of Namor before you, breaking apart in a way that only you could command. As necessary to him as the sea.
You took Namor as far as you could in your mouth, nearly gagging as you held him there. You cupped his balls, massaging them softly before you grasped them firmly.
Namor choked on your name, and you could feel his dick throbbing in your mouth, ready to release. You moaned around him, wanting his release almost as much as he did, but your desires were whisked from under you as he pulled you off his hard length.
What the hell?
His breaths were labored, and his eyes were still closed before he regained his composure and opened them.
You leaned forward, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Namor cradled your jaw, holding you in place as he tsked lowly.
"If you do that again, I am going to come in your pretty mouth."
You shot him a questioning look that must have looked borderline murderous from the way his lips twitched.
"I have somewhere else in mind." His eyes dipped to your pelvis. Your pussy throbbed, your arousal smearing your thighs as you pulled them close.
It wasn’t fair that he could elicit such reactions with little more than words and hungry glances.
Your legs trembled as you rose to your feet. You were thankful to Namor as he guided you towards your couch with quick kisses and determined fingers. Your shirt was gone by the time he settled against it; your bra was forgotten as he pulled you on top of him. Your shorts and underwear were discarded just as swiftly and nearly ripped off you as Namor’s possessive fingers traveled across your flesh.
"You said you were apologizing." His hand caressed your ass, kneading your flesh, while his other hand skimmed across your stomach. If he just lowered his fingers a little, he could feel the wetness between your thighs—feel where you needed him most. "I want to see how sorry you really are."
You had almost forgotten how cheeky he was and how deliciously wicked he could be when he wanted to make you come undone.
You let out a shaky breath as you lined his wet dick to your entrance, feeling the pulse of your neglected pussy with each passing second.
A curse fell from your lips as you lowered yourself on Namor’s hard length, feeling the familiar stretch as you continued to sink on his dick until he was buried inside of you.
"Missed you," you whined as you began to roll your hips. "So much. So so much."
You would never get tired of how full you always felt with him concealed inside of you. Loved the way your walls hugged him, keeping him where he belonged.
"Missed you so much... I thought I was going fucking crazy."
You draped your arms over his shoulder as you continued to bounce on his dick, your rhythm growing as desperate as you felt.
Namor groaned, gazing up at you with so much desire in his dark eyes.
"Tell me," he insisted.
"I dreamed about you. About us." Your mind flashed back to the dreams that had left you feeling hollow and broken—now possibilities that made your heart dance. Your god-king at your side, loving and tender in ways unknown to outsiders. You, decorated in jade and nurturing new life "About a child I was carrying."
Namor stilled, blinking up at you. You could see the awe dancing in his umber eyes and the ghost of a smile as he regarded you.
"You dreamed... of a child?"
You nodded, remembering how real the dream had felt—the scent of salt and agave, the glittering gold and jade, the warmth of his hand against your swollen stomach.
You could feel him twitch inside of you, and you nearly cried out as his thick fingers brushed against your clit.
"One day." Namor promised, playing with your sensitive "First, I will make you queen."
His other hand dug into the flesh of your ass as a quick string of Mayan spilled from his lips—promises that couldn’t be translated in your dazed mind as Namor lifted his hips, thrusting up into your wet hole with sudden urgency. You tried to meet his powerful thrust, but his pace quickened with each stroke.
"It will be like this. Every day until you are with child."
You rested your forehead against his, mouth agape, as he continued to fuck up into your slick heat. The sound of your flesh meeting, the wetness of your hungry pussy and his dick as it drowned in your juices, was enough to send you over the edge. His words only brought you closer—every filthy promise and sweet encouragement.
"You will be dripping." He hissed, rubbing your nub desperately as your walls clenched him harder—close, so devastatingly close.
"K-K’uk’ulkan…"
"Show me how you will take it. Show me, my queen."
Namor pinched your clit and you were gone, surging over the edge as your pleasure cascaded through you. Your legs shook, your breath caught, and you could have sworn you saw fucking stars as you cried out his name. Namor continued to fuck you through it, incapable of taking his eyes off you as your pretty pussy clenched around his throbbing dick, demanding his release.
He gave one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came with curses spilling from his lips. You held him close as he shuddered through his release, gasping for air as if it had been ripped from his lungs.
Your fingers threaded through the dark tresses of his hair, pushing back the strands that stuck to his forehead as he came down from his high.
He sighed contentedly before leaning back to stare up at you.
"Your king will be expecting us soon."
You hummed, capturing his lips before rolling your lips lazily.
Namor cursed against your lips, and you couldn’t help the laugh that tore from your throat. Your lips tugged into a sensuous smirk as you blinked down at your god-king with mock innocence.
"I’m not done showing you how sorry I am."
A/N: WHEW, this was a long chapter but aye, it’s done! Holy shit, it feels good to finish a series (a first for me)! Thank you all for your comments and words of encouragement. They meant a lot and gave me the push I needed to complete this series! I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
TAGLIST: @artaxerxesthegreat @tb-bunnii @daddyslittlevillain
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return the favor {chapter 19}
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Pairing: Post-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader
Summary: Recovery isn't linear and neither is mending mental fences that have been slowly deteriorating for two decades. On the cusp of something life changing, Joel's growing anxiety fuels your own and the tentative bridge you've constructed with the man begins to fall.
Word Count: 7.9k
Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, description of injuries, description of anxiety, symptoms of anxiety, tense situations, argumentative language, foul language, disrespectful language and insinuations, trauma, depictions of past trauma, ptsd
A/N: first chapter of the new year! my city has been shut down for nearly a week due to winter storms and about 8 inches of show that is slowly turning into ice. so it was good mood setting for this chapter! slowly getting back into things, really hoping to get out of my head soon and off of medical leave to get back to posting on a more regular basis, i love y'all and miss sharing things. tried to maintain the tag list but tumblr was fighting me on half the links, im so sorry if anyone who wanted to get tagged didn’t!
ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath, watching the screeching figures rush by after the figure of Joel leading them away from you. Ellie had tripped, causing rubble to tumble over cracked asphalt and alert them of the fact that people were within the city limits and exploring through the remains of what was once a decent metropolis. Your arm stung a little from where you were still healing, the injury of your broken arm two months old now. But you were able to use it, no longer confined to a sling. Your lungs still a little sore from the plunge you had taken into a frozen lake one month ago now.
Traveling had been hard, the harsh winter not letting up but seemingly getting worse with every day. Ellie found more of herself, falling back on snark and puns in a way that helped to bridge the gap that had begun to form between you and the man currently risking his life to give you both a chance to hide and seek shelter in the torment of the snowstorm raging on.
“Bookstore or library? City looks too small for one, but everyone used to have a library at least, right, Bean?” Ellie’s voice was barely audible behind you, her gun rattling slightly as her hands shook despite the gloves and heavy layers scrounged up along the way to Wyoming.
“Yes, Gremlin. We just have to find a map or something about the area.”
“What happened to yours?”
“Gave it to Joel.” You stood from your crouched position, knees popping audibly. You peered around the corner of a crumbling building, your longer hair fanning out from beneath your beanie. The curls getting ratty with the harsh reality of backpacking around the desolate land of what was once civilization. Ellie’s wasn’t much better, tangled in a ponytail that you were sure would hold its shape even if you cut the band from around it. Similarly, Joel’s steel locks had begun to curl around the back of his neck and around his ears, a darling curl falling over his forehead when he glanced down or seldom relaxed his watching gaze on everything.
“What…what’s been going on, Bean, please tell me.”
“Ellie, it’s not…nothing happened. I really don’t know, but you have nothing to worry about, we’re both going to keep doing our best to look after you.”
You both quietly moved through the city streets, ducking behind cars when any noise was too close, or the shuffle of the Infected echoed off crumbling buildings. Cody was a decent sized city, not quite a metropolis but was spread out over a good dozen square miles. Big enough to get lost in, big enough to fall victim to with how overrun it was. There were so many Infected, the Clickers and Runners hiding within the interior of buildings that were trying to withstand the test of time. But far too many for comfort, Ellie was close on your heels as you lead her toward where you suspected the library would be.
The whole, slow way your thoughts were focused on the task at hand, instincts taking over. The niggling feeling in the back of your mind concerned with the way Joel had been pulling from you recently. The spikes of anxiety you could read from him, feeling as if you were experiencing them firsthand. Which you had been as well, the journey through the harshening winter something that was testing you all in ways that you hadn’t expected to be so difficult.
‘Gasping for air, your entire body tensed as unconsciousness was ripped from you like a blanket by an exasperated mother the morning of a school day. Hands were wrapped around you, rigid but comforting and holding you still as you began to rouse.
“It’s okay, just breath, you’re okay.” A deep, baritone voice tried to sooth you, syrupy sweet and soft close to your ear. You vaguely recognized it, mind scrambled.
Words failed you, getting stuck in your chattering teeth as you shivered so hard it felt like convulsions.
“Took a dip in the lake, not the best decision you’ve made, but we got you on the mend.” The voice continued to talk softly to you, comforting you the same way that the arms around you were.
Shifting, you realized Joel was curled around you, making you the little spoon as he tried to get you warmed back up. His chest bare just like your back and the hush of the hair that he adorned noticeable as your senses slowly came back to you. Your hair was damp, so it must not have been too long ago when he pulled you from the water. You tried to ask but your teeth clattered against each other too loudly.
“Sweatin’ from head to toe, despite the chill settled in your bones, darlin’, had to strip down to try and get your body heat up. I assured Ellie it would be okay with you, made sure to change you into dry underwear beforehand. Didn’t want her thinking I was doing anything…bad.”
“G-good call, on-only way.” You stuttered out, feeling the thickness of his thighs pressed up against your own. It seemed that every blanket between the three of you and what had been in the cabin were draped over both of your forms. The fire crackling close as you lay on the floor in front of it.
“You scared me, you scared the hell outta me.”
“Tried to take him out, he tackled me and we rolled onto the la-lake.” It was hard to talk, to get the words out past trembling lips. But the warmth slowly seeping back into your skin and settling there allowed you to try. It was lulling you, the warmth on both sides, all around. The jolt of awareness fading fast as your body realized how hard it was fighting to stave off the cold, aided by the warm body wrapped tight around you with a tight grip.
“I don’t think I could handle loosing another person.” He murmured into the back of your head, lips buried in your hair as you nodded back off.
I would be something that echoed in your mind.’
He had hovered, that first week after the incident, insisting that the cabin remain a home base of sorts, he had hunted, hung up what he could to try and preserve it for travel. Ellie staying behind when he went to check the traps, telling her that you needed someone to watch after you. But you knew what he was doing, he was distancing himself. He was marking the sand around him with deep lines that should not be crossed. But the thing about sand is that it shifts, it can be swept up, it can consume you, it could damn you as well as any boundaries you tried to mark into the vulnerable surface.
For the first week back traveling on foot, he set up his sleeping bag close to yours. An arm’s reach away in case you shivered too harshly or coughed too loudly. Your arm hadn’t been damaged in the fall or the following struggle back to the surface, but it had set you back on needing to redo the stitches you had just removed the day before.
Shaking your head and focusing, you turned the corner of a building made of brick. Bloody handprints painted across the pale pink of the faded bricks catching your eye as you spied the sign for the library in the distance.
“C’mom, gremlin. Almost there.” You whispered to her, catching sight of too many bodies clustered on the ground not even ten feet away. They shied away from the sun when it peeked through the dense overcast that seemed to become a permanent fixture. Some looked to be standing, or even sitting against the building. The ones that were didn’t shift when the sun shone down on them but groaned all the same. Squinting, you could just make out that they were attached to the wall by long fibers that spanned over the side of the building. Large bulbs had sprouted up among the veinlike display, some directly on the bodies overtaken by the fungus.
Spores.
It had evolved into spores.
“Ellie, pull your collar up over your mouth and nose. Now.”
Looking back toward it, you pulled the bandana you had tied around your neck up to cover your own face. Ice coated it all, though the Infected, melting slightly in the sun that was now shining down through the split in the low cloud coverage.
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The crunch of glass underneath a boot had you whipping around toward the entrance you had tried to barricade. Ellie ducking beneath one of the few standing shelves further in the building you had taken your time to clear and make sure was safe. The local library of Cody the agreed upon meeting place so many days ago it felt like a lifetime ago, between different people than who were now using the strategy in the face of a too real notion you had voiced about separation.
Joel’s broad form came into view from the shadows of the entrance, looking disheveled but intact. The layers he was bundled up in making him an imposing figure. His eyes frantically scanning the inside of the building, an anxious twinge gleaming in them before they landed on your cautious form peering from behind a pillar. You couldn’t tamp down the instinct to move toward him, wrapping your arms tight around him. He couldn’t seem to resist his own instincts to bring his arms around you to return the embrace, tight hold that brought you flush against him.
Surging up, you placed a chaste kiss to his chin and then both of his cheeks, one last gentle one to his lips despite the adherence to touching he seemed to take up slowly toward you. But it didn’t feel perfunctory, it felt like a welcome home that would fall from his lips if reality were different, if you had been home before him and he finally crossed the threshold back into a space you both shared. His cold lips moved against yours, pressing back to deepen it and his tongue swiped at your bottom lip in a silent question. You were just about to part your lips for him to taste when Ellie realized the coast was clear and came out of her hiding spot.
“Gross, y’all gotta keep it PG, I’m still a child!”
Joel tensed, his blunt nails digging into the layers wrapped around your body. With a grunt, he broke the kiss and sent a mild glare over your shoulder toward the rambunctious teen. Rash, he thought and you saw It flash over his face at both of your thoughtless actions to reach out for each other. But instinct was a funny thing, threw inhibitions out the window, threw self-preservation out the window, the thin, sheer curtain of privacy out the window, forgotten for a moment.
“Oh, suddenly you’re a child, but back when you wanted stay up for a round of night watch you were old enough and responsible enough?” You quipped back with a teasing smile, detangling yourself from Joel and facing her with your hands on your hip.
“Well-“
“Hush it, go see what we can use that’s still around, but don’t go too far!” You waved your arm at her, the other on your hip as you tossed her a faux irritated look, but the smile quirking up the corner of your lip broke the stern image you were trying to make.
“Didn’t wanna hear whatever mushy crap y’all are gonna say to each other anyway!” She stuck her tongue out at you before turning on her heel and walking away further into the building.
“Joel,” You placed your hands on his chest, trying to get his attention as he watched Ellie’s form.
“I saw it, the spores. That means we’ve all be potentially infected just being in the vicinity of Cody.”
“Infection can show signs as delayed as eight hours. Joel there’s no way to know until we do or don’t show symptoms.” He took your hands in his, feeling the slight tremors in them as your mind worked a mile a minute. Eyes flashing with something that could only be determination as you locked your gaze on his. “But it looked mostly iced over, moving slow but still alive.”
“We gotta move out, too alive for comfort.” He slid his hands from you and put his gloves back on, flipping his coat collar back up to shield his neck.
“Copy that.”
“We’re going to be okay, we know Ellie is safe.”
“Copy that.”
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A harsh grunt had your head turning swiftly back toward the clearing you were on the edge of. Trees lining the edges of your vision and their naked limbs reaching out as if to comfort you. But they would damn you sooner than that, exposing you to any threat even this deep into the forest where you had sought relative safety for the night. Joel’s sleeping bag cradled figure was shifting, moonlight showing the anguish he was experiencing even in sleep. A nightmare.
He had been having more and more of them, sleep restless and mumbled words falling from his fitful form most nights or when he nodded off.
“Joel.” You murmured quietly, hand hovering just over his shoulder. He didn’t startle, but woke with a deep gasp, eyes flying open.
“Woah, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, you were having a fit, just making sure you’re okay.”
“’m fine.” He said as he pushed up from the confines of his sleeping bag. You leaned back on your heels where you had kneeled beside him. Confusion colored your senses before you shifted into a neutral expression. He had been pulling away, the tentative kisses you shared a few days ago the first instance of comfort you both indulged in since the cabin.
“You’re fine.” Monotone agreement to appease him fell from your lips. He shoved off from his spot and you let him walk away, boots crunching in the snow that had built up since settling for the night.
“Takin’ over watch.” He said before disappearing in the thick of the trees, not a glance back toward you or a sleeping Ellie.
“I’m fine too,” You exhaled shakily, sharing in his own lie.
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The blinding white landscape stretched out as far as you could see. Packed snow and ice all around for miles and miles as winter claimed the land for its own. You kept glancing over at your companions, worry settled deep in your soul. For the girl whose teeth chattered with the cold, edge of her nose pink despite the layers wrapped around her. For the man whose anxiety was beginning to show the longer the journey took and the nightmares that plagued him every night.
He looked washed out, from far more than the endless brightness of winter shining down. He was exhausted, he was worn out, he was holding the crumbling pillars of himself up with sheer determination and devotion to finding the one thing he knew in this world, his brother.
As you tried to keep your boots from slipping, the hush of snow underfoot, a structure suddenly appeared on the horizon. Smoke calmly billowing from a chimney.
The creak of the door opening had your muscles tensing, hidden behind a wooden pillar inside the warm cabin. Joel was across the space from you, gun positioned right in front of him, a calmness about him that you hoped meant no one would be dying today.
The man who had entered back into his home looked over to his wife, her eyes sliding to the left to silently give Joel’s position away. Her eyes met yours as she continued to face the door, before turning back to her husband as she calmly rocked in the chair with her hands in her pockets. Threatened but at ease, assuming you both to be decent people. To not harm her or what was hers. Your gut twisted at the faith she put in both you and Joel, seeing the desperation for appeasement and an avoidance of true violence. You wouldn’t hurt her, hurt them. Everyone seemed to sense it, only threats were dealt with violence, and she was not one.
Turning back to the door, the man gently placed his bow down atop a table and began to unzip his outermost coat.
“And the gun,” Joel approached, revealing himself full to the older couple. Voice steady but quiet, demanding.
“Who’re you?”
“Just someone passin’ through.” He strutted confidently beside the woman still rocking gently away, his voice giving away his native land, ascent thicker in the wake of another sleepless night.
“Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it outta reach.”
The man complied, with an exasperated expression at the brashness Joel was speaking with.
“Why didn’t you shoot ‘im?”
“The gun’s all the way over there.” Was her simple answer and you felt a smile pull at your lips, the display pulling at your heart. “He didn’t hurt me, by the way.”
“Yeah, I got eyes.”
A few steps further into the room brought the map and abandoned bowls from an offering of soup to the man’s attention.
“You made ‘im soup?”
“Yeah, I did. It’s cold out.” The man’s only response was a grunt as he settled into a chair across the small table from her. Joel’s head shifted to the side slightly, and you took the signal to move in front of the door.
The man’s attention turned to you, gazing at you over his shoulder.
“Well, aren’t you a quiet thing-“
“I’m lookin’ for my brother.” Joel took over the situation, his voice cutting off any further conversation between you and the couple. Letting them know that he was the one in charge, the one who would be asking the questions and controlling the conversation.
A scoff sounded harsh into the air as the old man removed his cap, his silver hair on display now in the comfort and warmth of his home.
“Well, I ain’t seen him.”
“I haven’t told you what he looks like.” Joel’s tone was hard, though you could see how tired he was, his eyes not holding any of the weight his shoulders seemed to as he deflated. Unable to keep up the rouse, unable to not let the doubt begin to slip in. The endless days out in the below freezing tundra finally wearing him down.
“He look anythin’ like you?”
“A bit.”
“Then I ain’t seen him.”
“They’ve got a girl with them.” The woman spoke up, eyes shifting up toward the second landing and giving Ellie’s hiding spot away. You could see her easily from you spot by the door, the way her brow furrowed much like Joel’s at the woman’s easy give up of her presence.
Apparently sensing how calm everything was, Ellie took that as her opportunity to reveal herself.
“Can I come down?” She called from the upstairs, causing you to close your eyes in exasperation of her lack of patience. Joel, similarly, exasperated, turned his attention from the man he kept his gun trained on and looked toward the stairs with a mile glare.
“No,” His demand turned into a calling of her name as she moved and began to make her way down the stairs with loud steps.
“Ooh-wa. A woman and a girl, family man.” The old couple shared a quiet laugh at the quickly shifting interaction. No longer tense, but something else.
“What did I just say?” Joel posed toward her as she came to stand in the space between you both, blocking the stairs from view with her small form as she brandished her own gun.
“Joel, come on, they’re like a thousand.”
“Who’s this little psycho?”
“Never mind her.” Joel shifted forward, using his free hand to push the map on the table closer to the man whose focus was shifted toward Ellie. “I need you to tell us where we are.”
“If you got a map, why you lost?” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice that he was doing nothing to hide, finding amusement despite the barrel of a rifle aimed at him and three strangers in his home.
“Must’ve missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest.” Ellie snapped, trying to put on a front to imitate Joel, her voice pitched lower and hard. No sign of the girl who told puns in her as you looked over at her with a sharp flare of frustration.
“Ellie!” You reprimanded, unsure where this unwavering lack of manners came from, hoping it wasn’t her way of displaying confidence in the face of someone who had done nothing to warrant such harsh language aimed at them. Anyone else wouldn’t be so kind or forgiving. “Compose yourself.”
“Ho-ly.” The man’s eyes met yours as you nodded a silent apology at him, moving across the space and coming to stand beside Ellie with a swat to her arm. Laughter bubbled up between the couple again, getting a kick out what was happening after being isolated for so long.
“We’re somewhere here. Where exactly?” Joel tried to get the conversation back on track, an agitated look tossed over to you both as he jabbed a finger at the map. “And the answer better be the same as your wife’s.”
“Did you tell him the truth?”
“Yeah.” She rocked gently in her place, looking for all the world like this was an everyday occurrence.
“Are you tellin’ me the truth?” That same fond smile pulled at your lips at the woman’s easy compliance to the question and Ellie shifted behind you slightly as she saw it, her body relaxing in response to your own ease.
The man glanced at you and Ellie, so close together before he leaned forward and pointed out exactly where his wife had on the map. Joel shared a look with you before holstering his gun and focused on the map fully.
“Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” Exasperation and exhaustion taking over him, he pressed a hand to his forehead as he roughly sat down in the chair beside him. Looking for all the world someone who was about to give up.
“Hide? Came here before you were born, sonny.”
Ellie moved to sit beside him, a stool operating as a makeshift side table the perfect spot for her as Joel rocked in his place, emotions riling him up in a way you had yet to see. His anxiety rolling off of him in palpable waves.
“Get the hell away from everybody.”
“I didn’t want to.” The woman added, sharing a look with you, the gleam in her eye telling a story you so desperately wanted to hear.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far then you know what’s out there.” Joel’s pale glare, furrowed brow, prompted the man to speak on. “You seen Cody?”
“Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with infected.”
“Spores, too. But the weather seems to have killed that off for the time being.”
“Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation. Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.”
“So you haven’t heard the name Tommy?”
“Nope.”
“What about the Fireflies?”
“We get those in the summer.”
“Not the bugs, the people.” Ellie snapped, though there wasn’t nearly as much heat behind her words this time. Mindful of the presence you exuded as you stood beside her.
“There are firefly people?”
You couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled from your chest, joining in on the disbelieving laughter of the older couple.
“You got any advice on the best way West?”
“Yeah.” Suddenly serious, the man’s face shifted into something unreadable. Leaning forward to get all of Joel’s attention he spoke without a hint of the jovial tone he just had. “Go East.”
You swallowed down the spike of unease that settled over you, watching as he leaned forward to draw his finger over the map.
“But you never go past the river here. Ever.”
“What’s past the river, sir?” You cut Ellie off, knowing she was about to ask the same thing. You stepped forward, angling closer to him, wanting to understand everything they new about the land but afraid to ask. Afraid of the answers they had that would sever the last string of hope, of the mission Joel had set out on.
“Death.” The woman spoke, her eyes meeting yours. “We never seen who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some Infected, some not. If your brother’s West of the river, he’s gone.”
“You’re not gonna scare us.” Ellie spoke quietly, face solemn as the atmosphere of the room shifted.
“Scared them.” The woman nodded at you and then over to Joel beside her.
A beat passed before Joel reached for the map with harsh movements, folding it in his grip and then stood. You ushered Ellie to follow him, taking a moment to reach into you pack. You placed a small bundle of bandages on the table, locking eyes with both of them before speaking.
“There is medicine wrapped up here, please, take it as a thank you for your help. I’m sorry we had to brandish our weapons at you. Can’t be too careful these days.”
“A quiet, sweet little thing, aren’t you?” The man looked you over, though there was no threat or undertones in his eyes. “Take care of them, they need it.”
‘I’m trying my best, sir.” You turned to the woman one last time, hoping that the heartbreak didn’t show on your face. You wanted them to make it, to live out the rest of their lives in peace. “Ma’am, thank you for the soup.”
And with that you walked through the door and back out into the blinding landscape.
Joel was leaning heavily against a post of their fence line, one hand supporting him while the other was pressed tightly to his chest. Ellie was hovering close to him and speaking too fast for you to make out her words.
“I said I’m fine.” She looked back at her with a weird look, trying to display some sort of control, but he was still leaning heavily against the post. Her soft acquiescence pulling you behind them with quick steps.
“It’s just the…cold air all of a sudden.” He leaned over and looked down, his breathing labored and his body taut. A gentle hand on Ellie’s shoulder had her moving forward through the fence.
“All right, uh…so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”
Joel stayed still, jumping slightly when you curled a hand over his shoulder.
“Hey, hey, it’s just me. It’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay.” His tone shifted from quiet to harsh, furrowed brow and hard eyes turning to face you. He shrugged your hand from him with a rough movement and you curled it back to your side with a frown.
“Joel-“
“I said I’m fine!” He raised his voice and you shrunk back a few steps, not sure why he was suddenly so angry. The look in his eyes one you hadn’t seen since your shared time in Boston. At a loss for words, you only nodded, hoping he didn’t continue to yell. Your foot slipped on a patch of ice hidden underneath the snow and you let your body do so, looking up the small slope to Joel as he shifted the rifle from his shoulder and gripped it in front of him before following after Ellie. “Don’t need you trying to fix me when nothin’ is wrong.”
“It’s gonna be easy.” Ellie trilled, trying to control the situation as best she could despite how tense things were. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”
He didn’t look back as he caught up with her smaller form.
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“The river of death. Scary.” Ellie sardonically announced as the landscape opened up, the map in Joel’s pocket as he lead the way over the terrain. She stopped and loved over the fast moving line of water that weaved it’s way through the beautiful landscape. It had been a quiet day’s travel, Joel and Ellie having small pockets of conversation as they traded places leading. You stayed behind them, trying not to warrant another flare of Joel’s bitter anger.
“Don’t start.” He sidled up next to her, taking in the view while you hovered behind a few paces, feeling like an outsider. He didn’t so much as glance back at you, before speaking. Deciding.
“It’s too close to dark. There’s some caves along the river. We’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.”
“Good. I’m starving.” A pause. “Should’ve stolen two rabbits.”
“We can get our own rabbits.” He almost scoffed, worried about how she was thinking of stealing before trying to provide for herself. Or that he would let her starve.
“You gonna teach me how?”
“Just keep movin’.”
And with that they both began to walk again, seemingly forgetting about you trailing behind them.
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As the fire crackled on, rabbit consumed, Joel was busy duct tapping his damaged boots. The sound a background noise as you gazed up at the night sky, a haze of green lights shining among the stars. It was beautiful but it did nothing to soothe the anxiety thrumming through your veins. Something was about to change, the air around you drenched in the inevitable. The hairs on the back of your neck and all along your arms prickled with every howl of the wind and shuffling sound of an animal nearby.
The whistle Joel let out had you jumping in your seat, but you didn’t bother to turn around, back to the set up of the night. You knew it was for Ellie, to garner her attention where she gazed up at the sky in the same fashion as you, but she had scaled the outcropping around the mouth of the cave.
“Come down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.”
“Bean said it was okay. As long as I was careful.”
He didn’t respond, opting to pull a flash out from his jacket’s inner pocket. Your brow furrowed as you heard the sound of it clinking against his zipper. You hadn’t seen him swipe that from the older couple’s cabin. But he hadn’t had it before.
You blanked out, thoughts humming, eyes unfocused as you stared deep into the fire. The flames taking you back to when you had burned down your own cabin, unable to stomach the thought of living out your days with the buried corpses of what was supposed to be your future.
Screams echoed in your ears, plaguing you more and more as winter continued. The snow flashing from pristine white to red with every other blink. Footsteps deep in the snow, following a man who was showing his cracks much the same way you were. You gripped your mostly healed arm tight with your right hand, nails digging into the flesh there as you had snuck it into the sleeve, gloves tucked into a pocket.
The buzz of a quiet conversation quieting had you blinking your eyes back into focus, the fire lower now.
“What about you, Bean?” You didn’t let your surprise at being addressed show, but the feeling of your nails digging deeper into your skin was an all too real reaction.
“Hmm?” Shifting up from the fire, you looked over at Ellie, her face bright in the night. Small smile on her thin lips as she looked back at you. The weight of Joel’s gaze was heavy, making your nerves twitch and you were sure he was reading you as well as you could read him when his own resolve slipped.
“What would you do?”
“What would I…do?”
“If this all wasn’t going on.” The teenager waved her hands around, stray strands of her hair peeking out from her beanie wafting up with the action.
“I want a nice little cottage, protected deep in the woods. Maybe a garden to plant coffee and cultivate it.” The answer was quick, but quiet. Honest. That’s all you wanted now, a place to hunker down and be left alone.
“Coffee beans for Bean.” She chuckled before realization dawned on her. You hadn’t mentioned either of them, saying what you wanted. She took a breath before she breathed out her hesitant question, unable to shake the feeling that everything was not as okay as it seemed. She had to have picked up on the way you and Joel had grown quieter and more agitated since leaving the cabin. “…alone?”
“Yeah, kid, alone.” Your smile was sad as you looked down at where your boots stretched out in front of you toward the crackling fire. You could feel both of their eyes heavy on you as you fell silent, closing yourself off from them once again despite the hesitantly jovial air that had begun to form around the makeshift campsite. Shifting, you stood from your spot and walked over to your pack, unbuckling the sleeping bag from the bottom of it. Laying it out, you settled into it underneath the overhang of the outcropping of rock that had been picked out for the night.
Snuggling down into it, you heard them talk softly to each other for a little while longer, comfortable silences falling every so often.
“Dream of sheep ranches on the moon.”
“With a three-room cottage.”
“Yeah, kid, with a three-room cottage.”
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Steps as quiet as possible, you glanced at the map in your hands and then toward the bridge you could see in the distance. The river was still like glass, nothing but the wind breaking the surface and causing it to ripple every so often before it stilled once again. The bridge looked untouched, no visible disturbances in the snow blanketed ground around it or along the expanse of it. But it was a sign of something, of what was once. Blinking against the bright white of everything around, your vision clouded as snowflakes gathered on your lashes. The feeling of unease settled over you as you heard the call of a geese on the other bank. The only sound you had heard since taking up watch a few hours ago when sleep evaded you. It was too quiet out here.
Dread settled in like rocks in your stomach, throat constricted as the old couple’s words sounded in your mind. Turning back around, you rushed to the cave that had been used as shelter the night before.
“I’m responsible for you, okay?” Joel’s voice was audible as you neared the small camp.
“Then don’t fall asleep.” Ellie rebutted. “I was quiet, I checked my six, I looked for tracks. I found the high ground and I kept watch. Like you taught me too. Bean made sure to double check it all before she went off. What can I say, man? I’m a natural.”
He mumbled something and motioned for her to hand over the rifle, turning his attention to your approaching form. At the snap of a bush, the rifle was raised, his eyes not recognizing you through the haze of the falling snow. You quickly raised your hands up into the air and announced yourself, heart thudding.
“Where the hell did you go off to, huh? Supposed to be keeping an eye on her.” His voice was anything but relieved, holding anger and something else you couldn’t quite place.
“Woah, hey, I was checking map, I think we got turned around somehow. Bridge to help up cross the river.”
“You’re supposed to stay put. No one goes off alone.”
“I’ve traveled alone before; I can handle myself.”
“You took the only map, what if you got taken down or lost or fell in the god damn river?”
“I didn’t, I was just trying-“
“Trying to get us all killed, is what you were doing. Exposing us on your little scouting mission.”
“Look, I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, but we are all tired. We are all feeling the same way, Joel. Do not raise your voice at me. Please.”
He took a deep breath, eye clenching shut. When he opened them back up the gun shifted to his shoulder. He nodded at you in silent agreement. Then at Ellie.
“Wake me up next time.” He admonished; tone not nearly as hostile or frustrated as a few seconds ago.
“Yes, sir.” Ellie tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with a quick of her lips.
“Copy that.” You nodded back at him, not liking the way it was getting harder and harder to communicate with him. He was taking the lead more, making routes on his own more, taking on the burden of wandering through the endless landscape in a way that was hurting him more than helping the group. That kind of responsibility taking its toll on him as the days continued on.
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The bridge was larger as you stood at one end of it, facing the backdrop of large snowcapped mountains behind it. More wilderness, more unknown, more unseen threats.
You were trailing behind Ellie, the formation second nature now. Joel in front, rifle at the ready. Ellie in the middle, her hands at her sides, gun easily accessible in her pocket. You behind them both, keeping Ellie’s smaller form protected as much as possible.
Conversation flowed between them as you now walked along the river, the trees dense on the other bank, the one you were traveling along exposed. It made you uneasy, that feeling having settled into your bones from this morning. Cresting over a large hill, the sound of rushing water was suddenly loud, having been so low a hum it didn’t register until now. The snow was mostly cleared on the other side of the rather blue river, the structure of a-
“Dam.” Ellie announced, playing on the double meaning of the word easily.
“You’re no Will Livingston.”
“Yeah, yeah, but who is?”
“So that made electricity?”
“Yeah.” He looked over at her, brow already furrowed. “Don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”
“Joel…the dam…it’s running.” You stepped forward, breaking into the bubble the two of them had unknowingly created.
“The water wouldn’t stop running through it, even if it was abandoned.”
“No…but that doesn’t explain the lack of snow all around it. Almost like it’s been cleared.”
“Just didn’t snow as hard in this area, nothing stuck.” He dismissed you, moving on.
Ellie was watching the movement of the river’s current, having stopped ahead of you both and you quickened your pace to catch up to Joel. Reaching out a hand to hook around his upper arm. He let you turn him, a frown on his features.
“Joel, please, this doesn’t feel right. Between the sparse snow despite the storm last night and how quiet it is, something-“
“Everythin’ is fine, you’re reading too much into it.”
“Remember when you trusted me? Heeded my instincts as well as your own?” You snapped, roughly letting go of his arm and shoving him back. “Remember when we were equals?”
“You’ve been out of it more often than not, seeing things where there isn’t anything. You double take at every turn of direction, eyes glazing over and losing focus at night when we settle. Jumping at every little sound in the night.”
“So have you, I can tell when you’re breathing heavier, overrun by anxiety.”
“I’m fine, but you aren’t. Not since the cabin.”
“I’m fine, Joel. Just like you’re fine, right?” You used his own words against him, hoping that they stung him when they landed. They did, you could see the shift behind his eyes from frustration to acceptance.
“I’m not gonna apologize, but, darlin’…you really have been out of it more than here with us. I’m just…I’m trying here, okay?”
“I’m trying too, it’s…it’s this time of year, it’s harder. But I’m trying, Joel, I swear to you I am. When did I let anyone get the drop on me when it was avoidable? When did I failed to get Ellie to safety? When have I failed to reconnect after getting separated. Please, Joel, I’m trying.”
His broad chest expanded with a deep breath; hands held out to you in a silent offering of peace.
“I’m just picking up the slack, trying to keep us all alive, I didn’t-“ His words were fast, twang thick as he tried to back track. His trauma showed in ways different than your own, something he still had to learn about you, learn to help you with. Return the favor of you allowing him to work through his own.
“We’re fine, okay? I just…I need a minute, please. I just need a moment to myself.”
You stepped toward him to grip one of his offered hands with both of yours, cradling it. Looking up at him, you could see that he was as worked up as you were. Both of you feeding off of the other’s intense emotions in the worst way. He slowly lifted his other hand to caress your cheek.
“We’re okay, yeah?”
“Yeah.” You untangled from him, offering him a wan smile, and walked away, gazing out over the river.
After a beat, you began to follow behind Ellie as Joel continued on at a slower pace.
“Look at that river. It’s crazy blue.” She fell silent for a moment, looking down at her boots as she thought something over.
“Hey Joel…what is this is the River of Death?”
You both paused at her words, realizing that this was in fact a secondary river. You looked up and locked eyes with the man as he turned, hair ruffling in the breeze. The map was quickly pulled from his coat pocket, and he unfolded it as you closed the distance, coming up close behind them both, head on a swivel as he tried to center your current position.
The whiny of a horse had you bumping into Ellie. Too late to do anything about it or even announce it as the sound of hoofs thundering across the fallen snow blanketed all around you assaulted your senses.
You could feel it reverberate through your entire body, teeth clenched tight and eyes wide as they took in the fast-approaching group cresting over the hills of the landscape.
Joel scrambled for Ellie, pulling her behind him. He chanced a look over at you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you were surrounded on all sides by people on horses, two dogs pacing around them all with the river’s bluffed bank behind you all.
Joel reached for her hand and she reached for yours, scrambling to huddle close and maneuver with a dash that wasn’t quick enough. Allowing for the group of saddled horses to surround you on all sides.
“Get behind me.” He ushered, realizing it was too late to run or even think of making a getaway with the ten or so people now aiming their guns on you in a misshapen circle.
Hands going up in surrender, you didn’t dare close your eyes as you took in a deep breath of the stinging cold air.
“We’re not lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel was calm despite the buzz of adrenaline that was lighting you up, no doubt mirroring his own. “We’re just passin’ through.”
“Drop the guns.” The demand was calm, controlled. “And the blade.”
With slow movements, you removed the colt from the harness inside your largest coat, the shing of the blade following the thump of it to the ground.
Eyes moving from each imposing figure, you noticed that they were all armed with rifles. The glint of secondary handguns on their hips. Every single person was armed to the teeth and concealing their faces with masks made of scarves, bandanas, and scraps of clean fabric.
“You,” The same man spoke to Ellie, his eyes trained on her. “Take five steps back.”
“And you as well.” A woman spoke to you, her eyes calculating. Tracking the way you were scrutinizing the entire group with quick glances all around you.
“How ‘bout we just talk this through?” Joel attempted to bridge the gap. But they weren’t having any of it, cutting him off before he could even get the words out.
“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up?”
“Okay, easy.”
Glancing down at Ellie he assured her she was going to be okay, the hope that they wouldn’t harm a child allowing the words to sound genuine. He glanced over his shoulder at you, paces behind them both having already heeded their commands.
“You been near Infected?”
“There’s no Infected out here.” Your voice was strong despite feeling anything but. Overpowered, out manned and out gunned. Not letting it show that you were absolutely terrified for the two people spaced out in front of you.
“The hell there ain’t.” The man argued with you, tearing apart your feeble attempt at complying with them but also sticking your own ground.
A barking dog was lead out from behind the man, as he declared it the last chance for a swift death.
“If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”
“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath; eyes trained on the back of Ellie’s head. What if they could smell the dormant cells in her body? Suddenly, it looked like this wasn’t going to end well at all.
The dog was going insane, barking up a storm with intermittent growls from deep in its ribcage. Struggling against the leash it was being held onto with. But it wagged its tail as it loosened and approached Joel. You could see the increase of his breathing from your spot, though the man hadn’t been near Infected since Cody. A tense moment passed as it deemed him safe after sniffing around him and standing up on its hind legs to get a sense of him too close for comfort.
“Like I said, we’ll just move on.”
“Now the woman.” Dogs always made you nervous, having been on the receiving end of a rather bad bite at a young age. But you kept your eyes open as it approached you and did the same inspection. A deep breath in, held the entire time, and exhaled only when the dog was backing trotting away from you. You could only hope Ellie remained as calm as it cautiously approached her, growling as it did so.
Growls turned to happy yips as Ellie giggled, the two finding peace as she pet the suddenly friendly animal. You head knocked back your head as you sighed in relief. The man speaking for the group was smiling, you could see it in the way the wrinkles around his eyes creased despite the mask. Much like when Joel allowed himself to relax enough to do the same around the fire at night.
“You just bought yourself ten more seconds. What are you doin’ out here?”
“I’m just lookin’ for my brother.” The truth, you hadn’t known he was going to say it. But you felt your heart soften as he did. “That’s all, nothin’ more.”
The woman who had been watching you pushed forward and demanded his name, gaze locked on his.
“Joel.”
previous chapter || next chapter
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics
taglist: @narcissa-anastasia @ayamenimthiriel @rosaaeles @sawymredfox
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bird-inacage · 8 months
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Only Friends Episode 5 | "This has nothing to do with me."
Other than the fact this scene broke my heart into a million tiny pieces, and had me screaming into my pillow - can we acknowledge THE SUPERB ACTING??!!
The way Sand turns to finally look at Ray as if he's finally seeing him without the rose-tinted glasses. Like a sudden slap of reality/clarity has shaken him awake. Yet he's desperately searching for something on Ray's face that will prove what Boston said was not true. He doesn't find it. Sand is slowly retreating into himself. He's so hurt, he's mentally flinching back. He's putting his walls back up.
And when Sand says "this has nothing to do with me" (aka your business is none of my business. There's no we, there's no us is there?) - the sheer horror on Ray's face as it dawns on him that this is the moment he loses Sand before he really even had him. Before he even had time to process what 'this' was. I can literally hear Ray's heart racing with stricken panic.
After Sand takes a few moments to compose himself (and you can hear his voice on the cusp of breaking), when he looks at Ray again he's wearing his brave face. His nonchalant, 'this isn't affecting me' smile but Ray knows darn well Sand's holding it in. There's a hint of self-deprecation mixed in his expression, 'Of course you don't see me in that way. I was stupid to ever entertain the idea. I'm the idiot. I'm the fool. Jokes on me'.
Ray has no idea what he can possibly say to mend the damage. He feels desperately guilty. He's still conflicted about his feelings for Mew, so there's nothing he can say. After seeing into Sand's life, after having Sand open up to him eagerly, he never intended to hurt him. Someone whose never done anything but take care of him. Ray feels helpless.
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beacansidhe · 10 months
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of forgiveness
Kaeya’s forgiveness does not come quick, nor easy. This is true even for those he adores, if not especially so. A betrayal stings far more than a thousand cuts by a sword, and is not so easily forgotten. He had loved and trusted Diluc; he thought that their bond was strong enough that he would not reject him for telling the truth. He thought, by confessing his lies, he would be able to shed his past and truly devote himself to Mondstadt—to Diluc. He thought they would be able to seek succor in one another, to process the grief of Crepus’s death together.
Diluc took that sanctuary away from him. He collapsed it under rubble that could never be cleared with bare hands. He told him that he was not deserving of it, his forgiveness, and left him in the cold to soothe his grief with frozen fingers incapable of providing the warmth it needed to mend.
Though he has ostensibly forgiven him, and they have rekindled their relationship, more passionately and devotedly than ever before, the wound never completely scabbed over.
Sometimes things still pick at it and make it bleed, just a little, weeping like an infection at the cusp of healing. So after devoting his time to ensure Klee’s happiness and safety, to prove to her that she is loved by all and especially him, that she be allowed to retain her innocence and see through her childhood without conflict nor tragedy, he returns home to Diluc and finds it hard to look at him.
Behind Diluc’s adoring eyes, Kaeya sees betrayal. He sees abandonment. He sees the last vestiges of his chance at a happy youth dashed; he sees Crepus’s dead eyes, the hole in his chest, the blade that scarred him. He sees the vague shadow of his father’s eyes, the hatred and pride he imparted upon him before he abandoned him here in this strange land with a burden so heavy that no child should ever be made to suffer its weight.
And that night, he doesn’t drink. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” he says. “I’m too tired. It’s been a long journey.” He shrugs Diluc off when he offers to take a bath with him. "I’ve spent so much time in close quarters with others this past week, I just need a little time to relax and unwind. Don’t look so glum, Master Diluc, I’ll be with you before you know it."
But in the bath, he buries his face in his knees and digs his fingers into his chest, right above his heart, where it hurts so profoundly he half expects to see blood on his hands, and he mourns. He mourns the loss of not one childhood, but two, each sundered by lies that, even to this day, he cannot keep out of his mouth.
Klee will have the happiness he could not. He will ensure of this, with his dying breath, even if it rips out the sutures and bleeds him dry.
When he leaves the bath an hour later, eyes read and puffy, he says nothing to Diluc. He does not look at him. He crawls into his bed and curls up against his chest and knows that Diluc can feel his pain.
But they are silent, for Diluc knows that there is not a thing he could say to ever earn Kaeya's forgiveness.
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Desperations
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TW: Smut. Language. Degrading Language.
SUMMARY: Your usually reserved and even shy nature is altered by your need, something that surprises both you and Drew as he seeks to quell this, being the dutiful boyfriend he is…
WORD COUNT: 1200
*Requested*
Shy and Reserved. If there were any two words that could encompass your persona, these would be it. And Drew loved you for it as it meant he was able to pull you from your comfort zone in the promise of his care and compassion. But on this specific night, for reasons you couldn’t understand, you didn’t just want him. You needed him. 
So before you could even attempt to silence that urgency of those lustful visions, you were already making your way to the couch, where he was half invested in his movie once noticing how you looked at him with this specific conviction. You stopped between his legs for only a moment before moving over him and into a straddle. An immediate smile broadcast over his face as he would accept you with his fingers now at rest on your hips. 
“Well hello there, baby-” Before he could continue his slight taunt of approval, your fingers were beneath his shirt, tracing over the definition of his abdomen while your lips rose along his neck and into his ear. You could tell by the tense of his body beneath your touch that he had been relishing in this, a detail verified by the erection forming against your heat as you grinded against him. 
“Please Drew…” You whined into his ear, his nails sharpening into your hips as his eyes closed softly to the plea only heard at the cusp of your release in opposition to instigation. 
“What do you want, baby?” He tormented you for just a second before you would grant him a response. 
“I want you to take me right now…” The words left your lips before you could stop them, as his mind flashed to the TikTok you’d posted earlier that day with your hips in a sway to the words, ‘I like to be fucked like a slut’, your request coming through to the connection of that moment and your plea. 
“Please…” You pushed further as you carried your hand to his cock, now outlined beneath the fabric of his jeans, using the friction to palm him immediately beneath you. 
“You sure about this, sweetheart? I might not be so gentle this time…” You nodded, biting your bottom lip and pulling back to where he could see this faux innocence dripping with lust. 
“I want you to fuck me, Drew…please-” You were relieved from your need to plea as he carried you into the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed and undressing you until all that remained had been your panties and matching bra, chosen earlier just for his gaze. 
“This what you want?” He asked as he stood between your legs as you rose up onto your elbows, climbing higher, until you turned to face the headboard, shaking your ass in a single sway back and forth as you could hear him release a sharp exhale behind you. 
“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re so needy…” A hand suddenly collided to your left cheek before the sting was mended by his palm rubbing with care. 
“Please Drew…Please just-” He was inside of you before you could finish your plea, the rocking motions of his beginning thrusts had been perfection to that carnal beckoning. 
“You want to take me like a slut, huh? You like being fucked like one?” 
“Oh God…” You grunted into the sheets wrapped beneath your knuckles left white from your strength as he slapped your ass again when you didn’t answer him. 
“YES!” You belted, euphoric by his dominance as he was affected by your desperation. 
“Then let me hear you scream like one, sweetheart…Come on…Just for me?” He taunted this question as you obeyed, allowing every sensation to reverberate throughout your body and come across to obey him. 
“DREW! Fuck! YES!”
“Turn around-Look at me-” He charged as you obeyed, his fingers wrapping within your hair to keep your gaze to him, “Watch me take you like this…Just. Like. THIS.” He grunted as he quickened his thrusts as you struggled to keep your eyes locked onto him with the pleasure serving you with a teasing release. 
“I love how you feel right now! So tight-clenching me like it’s for dear life!”
“It is! God, it feels so good!” You shuddered as he used this grip on your hair to force you against him. But as you moved to crane your arm around the back of his neck, you were only met with a fresh position by his forceful fingers as you were on your back.
“I wanna watch every little contortion of your face as I fuck you like this…” He pulled you harshly into him, the thrust deep and stilled as he bottomed out and held you by the back of your neck. 
“Like my little slut…” Your pussy clenched at the words, his mouth casting into an oval of pleasure as his grip behind your neck tightened. 
“Keep doing that-oh shit…” He ordered as you would obey, watching him piston into you as the need to observe him became greater than the pleasure pulling your eyes closed. 
“FUCK!” The sound of your name behind his clenched teeth left you with a grin of pride as you’d never heard him utter it with such unbridled desperation. Of course, he had spoken it in relief and even reiliqnusihemnt of that release. But never like THIS…
“More…Please, Drew, baby, I need more!” He looked down to you, clenching those teeth tightly, before taking your ankles at a cross and bending your legs into your chest. 
“Then fucking take more, baby…take all of it!” He spat, kissing you sharply, before you were silenced by the new depth offered by this angle. 
“I know you know I can make you come, but I wanna watch you rub it-just for me…be my good little slut and let me watch you play with it…come on…good girl, come on…” He motivated you as you obeyed, wanting nothing more than for him to feel the same pleasure he offered you. And so for this, did exactly what he asked. 
“That feel good, baby? You like when I watch you?”
“GOD DREW! I’M SO CLOSE!”
“I can feel it, baby, shit!” He threw your legs back on either side of him until you now wrapped around him as he took you to the wall beside the bed. The smoothness of the wall at your back allowed him to take you without resistance, even aiding in his quick reps as you cried out for him. 
“Louder baby…Cry it out for me, come on!”
Yoru nails ate into his shoulder as your moans turned to whimpers. You could feel his touch wrap around the frame of the door as the other kept around your back in guiding you, all while each thrust was manic and fatal to any remaining innocence. 
“Oh fuck-It’s-I’m-FUCK!” He belted beneath you, your own orgasm forcing you silent as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck in those final motions.
“You know…all you have to do is ask, sweetheart…” He explained while pressing a sweet but winded kiss to your quivering lips as you returned to that shy version he loved so much…
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae
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blossom-hwa · 1 year
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TXT Mobile Masterlist
Let me know if any links aren’t working!
✨ – series
⭐  – fluff
💔 – angst
🌙 – triggers
Drabbles Masterlist
~ ~ ~
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Platform Nine and Three-Quarters | high society!au | ⭐, 💔, 🌙
→ You run away from your own wedding. Yeonjun is there to help.
These Endless Summer Nights | university!au | ⭐, 🌙
→ This summer feels endless, spent in each other’s arms. [ Hoshi (SVT) ver. ]
If You’ll Have Me | regency!au, nobility!au | ⭐, 💔, 🌙
→ When the Duke of Hastings, Yeonjun Choi, meets the season’s diamond debutante, Y/N L/N, it’s partnership - not love - at first sight. But as time passes, as relationships crumble and friendships mend, maybe, just maybe -
The ton's belief that you are a love match can find some truth. [ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]
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Some People are Dreams | slice of life!au | ⭐, 💔
→ A collection of people who felt like dreams: some who were, and one who was real.
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Lavender Mist | apocalypse!au | 💔, 🌙
→ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on. [ the things we lost along the way ]
Be My Date | model!au | ⭐, 💔
→ Beomgyu is everything you’ve ever wanted. It just takes him a little more time to realize he feels the same way about you.
Forever, and Always | roommates!au | ⭐, 🌙
→ Snapshots of a time when things are simple, life is kind, and you and Beomgyu are happy.
5:13 pm: rain on the window like your lips on my face | domestic!au | ⭐
→ It’s a quiet, rainy day when Beomgyu calls.
the things we lost along the way | apocalypse!au | 💔, 🌙
→ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on. [ Lavender Mist ]
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Lavender Mist | apocalypse!au | 💔, 🌙
→ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on. [ the things we lost along the way ]
Taking Care | slice of life!au, editor!taehyun, writer!mc | ⭐
→ When Taehyun goes missing from work, you hunt him down to his apartment where you find him sick. Attempts to take care of him ensue. It doesn’t all go as expected. [ Seungcheol (SVT) ver. ]
Partly Moon, Partly Sun | villain!au, god!au | ⭐, 💔, 🌙
→ When you die, Taehyun swears an oath of revenge to bring you back, the world and its gods be damned.
the things we lost along the way | apocalypse!au | 💔, 🌙
→ As the world falls, Taehyun keeps moving on. [ Lavender Mist ]
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The Words I Say, and the Words I Mean  | high school!au, childhood best friends to lovers!au | ⭐, 💔, 🌙
→ On a cool golden afternoon on the cusp of winter, Kai falls for you again.
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andrigyn · 9 months
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I put together some songs that remind me of Luna and Archer from @looseleaflettuce 's story Cusp of the Mend hope you like it <3
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justoneofthoseghosts · 4 months
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“I’m not ready to get hurt again.” + Brettsey
Let's do something from 11x18 but with a small twist cause I can't write unhappy endings 😚
He watches as she leaves the bar, unable to look away.
It's happened twice before.
The first time after Gallo's story about his crazy rescue when he watched her leave, stammering a reply about needing to see a friend.
The second time was the night of Mouch's celebration when he decided to follow her and tell her how he truly felt about her, how he was in love with her and nobody else.
He wants to do it this time too, longs to tell her he misses her on a near daily basis, how he still finds some of her things back at the house in Portland - a random sock here, a hairpin there, a sweater in the back of his drawer. Little things that remind him constantly of what slipped away but things that he couldn't throw away so he kept them in a box in the back of his cabinet.
He's too late, he thinks. She's with someone else, someone who will hopefully give her everything she wants and deserves.
If he were being completely honest, the trip back to Chicago wasn't all for work. Sure, a major terrorism threat in his hometown was reason enough to jump on a plane and make sure local law enforcement, federal law enforcement and first responders were up to speed but part of him wanted to see her again, to maybe get a feel of their situation.
His time in Portland would be over soon and distance not falling out of love was what caused their split in the first place. If distance would no longer be an issue, could they mend what was broken? Could there be some future where they could get back together?
No, he thinks, sighing. He shouldn't do this to himself. He reminds himself that she was with someone else. He can't live in a world of should've, would've, could've forever. He needs to push forward even just in inches, to another future.
He orders another margarita, trying to take his mind off her. He didn't need to brood anymore tonight. He takes a seat at the table Sylvie vacated, observing the merriment all around. It was a night of celebration after all. He should at least try to stop sulking.
Cindy spots him some thirty minutes later, smiling as she walks over to his table.
"How are you, Matt - really," she says in the motherly tone she usually reserves for her kids.
He chuckles, putting on his most easygoing smile. She didn't need to hear about his problems, "doing good."
She raises an eyebrow at his, as if detecting something false in his words. Her lips purse together but she lets it go.
"Anyone keeping you busy?" She asks, a curious tone in her voice, like she was trying to confirm something for herself.
He didn't lie when he told Stella he dated in Portland after the breakup. He did and he tried to get past his relationship with Sylvie but like years ago when they were on the cusp of something, it was hard to forget her and being with someone else made it even worse, lonelier.
He couldn't let it go, let her go - maybe after tonight, he will. Maybe all he needed was to see her and realize that she was doing well herself.
He decides it's best not to tell another lie. Stella had seen right though the first one. He blames it on his panic after that talk with Sylvie. He didn't want it to be an awkward conversation so he just blurted out that he was seeing someone too.
He instead says something that's between a truth and a lie.
"I’m not ready to get hurt again."
It stung like a bitch to be dumped but part of it was his own fault. He could lick his wounds all day and things wouldn't change one bit.
He glances at Cindy, at her expression that he could only describe as 'wise'. He watches as her eyes go to the door.
"I don't think that's happening again any time soon," she tells him sagely, patting his hand before getting up.
She sends him one last wink before walking off to find her husband.
"Hi."
He stiffens, thinking that he must have downed more margaritas than he realized because he thinks he can hear Sylvie's voice.
He turns towards the voice, blinking to validate that he wasn't hallucinating because Sylvie is standing in front of him, blue coat in hand, tentative smile on her face.
He wants to ask her what she was doing back a Molly's so soon but he doesn't. It might scare her away, make her think he didn't want her here.
Because he does. He really, really does.
"Is this seat taken?" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, looking at him hopefully.
He shakes his head. She lets out a soft, musical laugh, maybe catching onto his sudden nervousness at her reappearance.
"Can I buy you a drink?" He asks, finally finding his voice.
She says something about a jalapeño margarita, smiling in thanks.
It sounds crazy but her words are like some mad hope to him, paving over the cracks in his heart.
He realizes as he's grabbing their drinks that the first time he didn't follow her out of the bar, the second time he did and this time around, she came back to him.
He smiles to himself. Maybe there would be a future where they could get a version of their happy ending.
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meikuree · 6 months
Text
20 questions for fic writers
tagged by @chocochipbiscuit! thanks for the opportunity to ramble at length
tagging @acerinky @bothzangetsus @pretty-rage-machine @metamatar @leksaa90 @rose-gardens @liesmyth @themorikelife and anyone else who wants to join in! (template at the end)
answers below:
1. how many works do you have on ao3?
about 45, across my two accounts
2. what's your total ao3 word count?
~130,000 words across > 3.5 years
3. what fandoms do you write for?
used to be monofannish, but I began branching out after joining the multifandom exchanges scene (aka BFE).
4. what are your top five fics by kudos?
sidewalk reinventions [nimona (2023), gen]
the runaround [SNK, pieck/yelena]
blood to gold [SNK, pieck/hange]
more than a grain of sand [SNK, mikasa/annie]
small foreign faction [SNK, pieck/yelena]
a different picture emerges when I sort these by top fics from 5 different fandoms:
sidewalk reinventions [nimona (2023), gen]
the runaround [SNK, pieck/yelena]
the crimson cusp of evening [JJK, gojo/geto]
docile, unkind, fraught [the locked tomb, harrowhark/ianthe]
the sun coming out [squid game, jiyeong/saebyeok]
5. do you respond to comments?
in short: yes, but it can take months (or - I'm looking at years now) due to real life.
sometimes I prefer to 'reply' by reading and commenting on commenters' fic in turn since it's easier for me to gush about others' writing than my own; this is also a partly a matter of self-consciousness, because it (personally!) feels narcissistic for me to talk on about my own fic in comments.
6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
plenty of fic I write is angsty, but I usually mix even total darkness with slants of hope or more often ambiguity. you rarely get a pure distillation of atmospheres or tones in my fic, by design or not. (I'm not super married to labels like 'angst' or fluff either because they’re convenient but can also be limiting and/or simplified boxing-in categories.) the fiercest calm or to walk along the edge probably takes the cake, however.
7. whats the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
the sun coming out.
8. do you get hate on fics?
no, luckily! i'm an unknown name but it also means I rarely attract unwanted attention.
9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?
for sure. if you know my side account (which isn't much of a secret), you'll know exactly what kind. I'm transparent and unashamed of my id and like to revel in it. let's just say I like power dynamics, complicated and unconventional queer relationships, and older women.
10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?
no :(
11. have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that I'm aware of!
12. have you ever had a fic translated?
yes, and it's always flattering. <3 both my pieck/hange fics got translated into chinese: 从鲜血到黄金(blood to gold) and 和缓的修复(the slow mending).
I've translated Chinese fic into english and knowing what the translation process is like from the opposite direction, I'd consider my fic a translator's nightmare, so I'm grateful if anyone makes the attempt. I’ve read the translations and been amazed by the artistry, the linguistic agility in them. the translator was really skilled at carried across the nuances of the original text and adapted to differences in linguistic norms.
this might be cringe, but to quote an example (from the slow mending):
the original:
A fully uncharted ground. There’s no script for this, for a reconciliation between an erstwhile commander and a Warrior. But a meaningfulness to it all the same, perhaps: that here, at the world’s end, the ruins of everything they know, they can still reinvent themselves, and what they mean to each other—not as a clean slate, not as a forgettance of the past, but a desire to make something new of its wreckage.
[…]
Out upon the rudderless horizon, the sun is flaring like a wildfire, a thousand years’ worth of fury braided into its light. But they might survive this, after all: Hange feels hopeful, for the first time in a while.
and the translations:
这是一片全新之地。关于帕拉迪亚的指挥官与马莱战士的和解,完全没有既定的剧本。但这一切也许都有意义:在这里,在世界的尽头,在一切的废墟上,他们仍然可以重塑自己,以及他们对彼此的意义——不是纯白的新地基,不是作为对过去的遗忘,而是在残骸中创造新事物的热切希望。
[…]
在漫无边际的地平线上,太阳像野火般地燃烧着,光线中编入了千年的愤怒。但她们也许都能活下来:这段时间以来的第一次,韩吉感到了希望。
13. have you ever co-written a fic before?
no, and I might be open to it if time and energy weren’t limiting factors.
14. whats your all-time favorite ship?
I'm a major multishipper and this is hard to answer. at the moment -- this is cheating because it's a gen relationship, not a ship -- zenin mai & zenin maki.
15. what's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
perhaps my pieck/yelena cosmic horror WIP, and other SNK ones (ymir/historia, pieck/hange) -- I'm not attached much to SNK any more.
16. what are your writing strengths?
i've joked that 80% of comments of my fic will invariably include one of these words: gorgeous, poetic, beautiful. the runners-up are 'incisive' and 'sharp'. this sounds braggy; I'm always flattered, and I'm just listing these because I think those are the immediate data points at hand for my strengths.
17. what are your writing weaknesses?
dialogue, immediacy, and uh... this sounds glib, but tropey plots. plot in general. writing anything that cuts to the quick; my style tends to be somewhat repressed. writing long(ish) fic; my longest wordcount stands at 8.8k.
18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I've done this (for a fic for Zen Cho's Black Water Sister), for Hokkien, Bahasa Melayu, and Manglish. in line with the author’s original choice I avoided giving any glossaries or explanations. plenty of readers in the global south infer the meaning of foreign words/brand in Anglo-American settings all the time, from context. who’s to say the reverse can’t be done? I’m also not a fan of italicising foreign words and try to do the opposite: italicising English words instead. neither do I really enjoy any arguments that foreign media should be localized for Anglo-American palates; I prefer when something is specific to a culture instead of universalised, even if it may come off weird or incomprehensible.
romanisation’s a different matter. I’m fine with romanised dialogue for Malay and Japanese but with Chinese romanised dialogue (via hanyu pinyin) can be harder to parse — I’m fluent in Chinese and used to reading in Hanzi. this changes, of course, with dialects or other writing norms.
in the Chinese media/fiction I’ve read where English dialogue is what’s foreign instead, writers have written English dialogue wholesale (as in, in English words) without translating it into Chinese or translated it into Chinese.
I’m from an ex-British colony in Southeast Asia and how dialogue is conveyed and handled is one of those things that can indicate right away an author’s biases and assumed cultural defaults. even reading fic set in my or other southeast Asian countries by diaspora writers can feel strange if foreign dialogue (among other elements) is Pointed Out and made into an event; I prefer when many things that would be the default in people’s milieu here and simply baked into people’s worldviews can be written and let to pass without comment. in Black Water Sister my one petty comment is that the (Malaysian Chinese-American) main character’s initial cluelessness in Malaysia was jarring (and stereotypical), but I get that that’s part of the premise (and it was handled smoothly after). and of course, the universal bromide applies. no media ever has to cater to my taste, she typed in jest.
19. first fandom you wrote for?
snk/attack on titan.
20. favorite fic you've ever written?
hard to answer because i love most of the ones I've written for multifandom exchanges but some of my favourites are the sun coming out, a map of the broken world, and lantern-black, the pitch of light.
(not a coincidence perhaps that 2 of these were written for @bothzangetsus!)
template:
1. how many works do you have on ao3?
2. what's your total ao3 word count?
3. what fandoms do you write for?
4. what are your top five fics by kudos?
5. do you respond to comments?
6. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
8. do you get hate on fics?
9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?
10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you've written?
11. have you ever had a fic stolen?
12. have you ever had a fic translated?
13. have you ever co-written a fic before?
14. what's your all-time favorite ship?
15. what's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
16. what are your writing strengths?
17. what are your writing weaknesses?
18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
19. first fandom you wrote for?
20. favorite fic you've ever written?
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gilgamish · 11 months
Text
WIP Wednesday
Thank you @tallmatcha and @kookaburra1701 for tagging me 💖
(From the same fic as last week’s WIP) Summary: After a near-death experience in the Great War, Theryssa, scarred and battered, decides to finally live as herself, but when the Emperor asks that she serve as the Imperial Battlemage, head of the Elder Council, an old friend from her adventuring party drops by with a very strange request. 
Word Count: 746
On a drizzly Second Seed noon, somewhere in a chateau on the cusp of the Dragontail mountains, Theryssa of Alcaire received her promotion to High Chancellor of the Elder Council, and responded by going straight back to bed. 
The rain fell harder now with a murmur of summer’s thunder. She marveled again at the shape of her hands, at how soft they were becoming, how small. Just the other day out of curiosity, she tried putting on one of her old gauntlets again, and it slipped right off, clattering to the floor as if a child was fleeing from a stranger. On days like these, she still thrived off that delight. She had to. 
Wincing her eyes shut, she broke out into a cold sweat. Her abdomen felt alive like a parasite was there twisting, pinching, and pulling all the muscle and skin and scar tissue it could find. Her guts writhed, as though remembering that time they had come out once. They were like little eels, gleefully trying to flee outside of her abdominal cavity, but there hadn’t been any pain then, not even as she pushed them back inside. That came later. A year and a half later, her body still remembered the spear that lanced through it, and on days like these, it thrashed and screamed.
Silver lights filtered through the pale drapes; rain pelted against the window panes. The Emperor’s note on the vanity would rot with the other letters on her desk, and she would stay here in the safe, miserable dark. 
That was, until someone knocked on the door. 
Theryssa turned her back to the door, nestling deeper into the sheets, but not getting any warmer in damp bed clothes. Cold silk kissed her skin. One of the scullery maids had the wrong room. Must be. Her steward, Yorric, wouldn’t permit even the Emperor to see her now. But then, there was another knock on the door, and the knob turned, unlocking without a key. She startled upright. 
“Thaussarel,” rasped a familiar voice. Dynvalas Fels, formerly of House Telvanni, swept into the room. His glamor taken off, vampiric eyes gave him away, as did his robes— a delicate, tasteful combination of dark finery and ebony metal. He looked the part of a courtier and wizard in one. 
“It’s Theryssa now.” 
“Theryssa.” The door slid shut, blocking out the light from the hall. Dynvalas’s eyes glowed like coals in the dark. “My dear, you’re better at being a vampire than I am, hiding here in the dark, all by your lonesome.” He lit the storm candles by her window. Theryssa leaned back against the small mountain of pillows on her bed. Dynval stopped by her desk that was buried underneath its stack of unopened letters. “Ah, so that’s where my letters have been going.” He held up one of the many unopened envelopes, then dropped it back into the pile. 
“You’re here now.” 
“I heard frightful things about your injury. I had no idea if you were still alive, but news of your death never reached me. You never wrote me back. I got worried.” 
“Cyrodiil’s been under duress of late. I imagine the couriers couldn’t reach you anyway. ” Which didn’t even begin to touch the absolute calamity that was the province: cities scorched and plundered, villages wiped off the map, and countless other settlements crushed underneath the heel of the Aldmeri Dominion. Still, Theryssa hadn’t a mind past the fog of pain that clogged her every other thought. Of all the cruelties that Titus could have handed her, marching an emissary up here, throwing this appointment into her lap, demanding she mend a broken, bleeding empire was the worst. Though, her pride wouldn’t let her admit it. 
“Indeed it has,” he said amiably, standing by the nearest window. Theryssa longed to join him. She winced, her side springing up with another jolt of pain, and it tingled from her hips to her feet. She sank back into the one other, most tolerable position she could sit in. 
“Please sit.”  Theyrssa gestured at the space on her bed. With that, he stiffly sat on the side of her bed. She said, “Do you see now?” The front of her robe was open, revealing a swathe of her chest, her stomach. Even that small sliver of skin was marked by the deep, sunken scars, and the rest of those scars were raised, angry, twisted flesh. Only tiny patches of smooth, golden skin remained.
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