#‘What a cold woman she is! So unmoved by all this excitement!’

[daydreamerdrew]

Tales of Suspense (1959) #52-53 and #60 and The Avengers (1963) #29 and Black Widow: Deadly Origin (2010) #2

[florencesf1blog]

cherry

'I never knew that the simple act of love could be so torturous.'

pt2: wine

She couldn’t help herself when she heard him on the phone, Spanish fluently rolling off his tongue. He had her in a trance, completely wrapped around his finger despite the circumstances. He was cold and stoic throughout their marriage. It wasn’t one of love; that much was obvious. But she had hope that their arrangement could spark something new. Even after six months of nothing, she held on to this dream, this pure fantasy she’d never have.

Sitting down next to him, she graciously lifts her legs up onto the pillows of the couch. Carlos couldn’t be bothered to give her the time of day, staring out in front of him as he conversed in his phone call. But she was ever so desperate, resting her chin on his shoulder to try and give him unwanted affection. He shoots her a quick glare as she trails kisses along his sharp jaw, his muscles tensing under her strangely loving touch. His entire body stays frozen, set like stone as he finishes his conversation over the phone. She sees this as an opportunity, a chance to make her move. She should know better now, right? But that feeling of the acknowledgement in the past lingered and motivated her to keep going.

She sits herself down on her knees, pressing into the soft cushion of the couch. A gentle hand caresses the side of his unmoving face, her fingers tracing over the slight stubble that started to reappear. She leans in to press a kiss on his unloving lips, giving it her all for nothing. It was like kissing a dead body. Cold and unreciprocated. He allowed it to happen, not yet bothering to push her off.

Carlos had tried many times before with her. It wasn’t in his nature, he’d often tell himself. He wasn’t exactly a loving creature. But he found her pathetic, to say the least. He didn’t want to admit that he hated himself for not feeling anything towards the woman he married. Or that he should feel so, but actually couldn’t come to care at all about her. His own wife. The dull look in his eyes remains when he gently pushes you off, clearing his throat. He hadn’t managed to enjoy himself with you once. Despite all of your effort. He hates being bored, and so he decided to tot with her for his own amusement.

“I need to ask you something.”

She lets him push her off, not minding it in the slightest. The fact that he was speaking to her and giving her any form of attention was just enough. Her wide eyes stared back at him as she tried her hardest to be alert and attentive to his needs. Oh, she was completely struck by him. And she wanted so badly to get something out of him. Her head tilts slightly at the question. “mm?”

“How would you feel if I saw someone else?” he asks subtly, trying to hide his own amusement. He didn’t feel obliged to ask her. No, not at all. This was just his own strange form of amusement. He holds eye contact, gauging her reaction. The excitement in her demeanor and the look in her eyes completely shatter at that question. Crumbled. Her body was slightly slumping. She didn’t want him to see how it had affected her, afraid he’d be dissatisfied. Only if she knew.

Her voice stayed ever so gently as she spoke, quiet as if she wished not to break the silence that fell after his oh so devastating question. “Uh,” she hesitates, just momentarily. “Would that make you happy?”

“It would,” he replies bluntly, not bothering sugarcoating anything. He never truly cared why you thought anyway. Why would he? He was only married to you because his parents told him to. The promise of his inheritance at the price of marrying a stranger. He had every right to his own fun, he told himself. She was simply a body that came with that marriage, that deal. So, why does he still feel bad saying all these things?

Those words didn’t make her feel any better, her heart shattering at the thought. He’d be so much happier with another woman. Anyone but her. What a pain to bear with herself. Trying to tell herself she shouldn’t care so much, she replies. “I don’t mind,” she says, so gentle and kind as if her own husband wasn’t asking for permission to cheat. She was lying through her teeth, and Carlos saw right through her false act.

But he was intrigued. Despite your strange relationship dynamic, he had been somewhat surprised with your absence of complications. For some reason, he had expected somewhat more of a fight. Maybe some questioning as to why he would want somebody else. Instead, you crumbled like a house of cards in front of him. “Really?” he asks, only to receive a quick nod in return.

She was clueless as to why he had asked her in the first place. Very much aware of her position, she knew not to deny him anything. It wouldn’t matter if she did. He would do as he pleased, despite her yes or no answer. On top of that, she was incredibly eager. All in the hope that he would be somewhat pleased with her. Proud.

Carlos felt his ego boost up tenfold. It was almost too easy, watching your meek state give into anything he’d ask you. She was supposed to be his wife. Yet she sat next to him like some obedient little puppy. He wanted to test all his luck. See how far he could take this. How far you could really go before you truly fell to pieces.

“Good girl,” he smirks, leaning forward to pat her head. It was a truly degrading action, but he knew she’d enjoy any positive attention he’d give. And he only becomes more smug when a small smile appears on her face at the manner. The slightest bit of affection, if you could even call it that, had made her feel some sort of pride. Like an outstanding achievement. As if she had truly accomplished something by doing so little. By making her husband somewhat happy. Pleased. Pleased with her.

Falling to pieces for his sake.

A/N: wow/ quick comeback from the dead ig? dont know where this one came from but it did. please let me know what u all think cause i truly enjoyed writing this/ ill be making some minor changes to my account and hopefully upload more (no promises).

[avatrice-week]

Avatrice Week 2023 Masterpost

Day 1 - Fake Dating or Undercover

Title: Tell Me You Don't Know Me Author: quietblueriver Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Ava and Beatrice run into Beatrice's parents.

Title: Always a pleasure Author: orphan_account Rating: General Audiences Summary: “And this is the, uhm, wife, I presume?”

Title: Serenading in the Trenches Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Beatrice and Ava are reunited after almost a year apart. They're immediately tasked with going undercover, posing as a married couple of prolific assassins in the hopes of putting a stop to Adriel's criminal activies.

Title: Missions and Love Author: Creativityx Rating: General Audiences Summary: Ava has been assigned to work with the OCS' top agent, Beatrice. It was a simple mission, pretend to be girlfriends, capture one of Adriel's followers and return to the OCS. What Ava wasn't planning for was her fake girlfriend being so beautiful.

Title: when dividin' up the universe (you could have mine) Author: organicdonut Rating: General Audiences Summary: “Okay, so. I have, uh, some updates,” Beatrice does not like the way Ava said updates, “About last night.” “Will the updates explain why everyone in the bar is looking at me like I’ve forbidden alcohol?”

Title: Will you be my fake girlfriend? Author: jessnope Rating: Not Rated Summary: “Wouldn’t people think it weird?” Ava asked, looking genuinely thoughtful. Somehow, Beatrice could sense it was a trap even through the state of tiredness she found herself, Ava had a spark in her eyes.

Title: Philanthropy for the Heart Author: SharonSharpe Rating: Explicit Summary: The Areala General Hospital is hosting its annual charity gala and everyone is excited for the social event of the season. That is everyone except Dr. Beatrice Young. When she makes the mistake of saying Ava is her date for the gala the two are forced to address their flourishing feelings for the other.

Day 2 - Injured or Sick

Title: Life is About More Than Just Fighting Author: strongwomenunited Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: At the end of 2x06, you can see that Beatrice clearly had an injured side, yet in 2x07, it's magically healed. In this story, Ava finds Beatrice after Mother Superior has been brought back to life trying to get her armor off, but her side is in pain. So we will see some hurt/comfort, but you know emotions come out and their relationship changes...

Title: A Sick Day Author: strongwomenunited Rating: General Audiences Summary: During the two month period, Beatrice gets a cold after a busy night at the Bar, do they end up training or does Ava make her rest?

Title: That Lilith Voice Inside My Head Author: quietblueriver Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: AU - Lawyer!Bea tries to bring Ava soup. Lilith helps. Sort of.

Title: I'll Hold You (Blood, Bruises and All) Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: The Halo pulses as Ava roars with rage, knocking Beatrice’s assailant backwards into the stone wall. He falls, limp and unmoving. Ava can distantly hear all the times Mother Superion has told her to check the body but she doesn't care. She's already halfway to Beatrice’s side.

Day 3 - Jealousy

Title: What Love Feels Like Author: strongwomenunited Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: In 2x02, what if Miguel didn't walk into Bar La Vasseur while that woman was flirting with Beatrice? What if Ava took things into her own hands to end that conversation...? This story explores the idea of Ava spilling some drinks on a certain woman flirting with Beatrice. How will she react?

Day 4 - Soulmates

Title: Soulmarked Author: Creativityx Rating: General Audiences Summary: That fateful day when she was seven, saw her soulmark left incomplete with only the letter 'B' on her wrist. Ava learns to wear long sleeves that day. With little hope of finding her soulmate, she puts herself to work as a mechanic fixing cars to stop anyone else from experiencing the same as her.

Her life is ordinary until one client walks through the door with a need for repairs.

Day 5 - Hear Each Other’s Thoughts

[None}

Day 6 - Smut or Creator’s Choice

Title: I Can Taste You In My Rage Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Lilith returns to the Cat's Cradle in the hopes of making amends. Beatrice has some things to say.

Title: The One Time She Knew Author: JetpackingPenguin Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Five times Beatrice didn't think Ava returned her feelings and the one time she did

Day 7 - Domesticity

Title: The Teddy Bea-r Author: Lapincobra Rating: Not Rated Summary: Fanart and a little draft for Day 7 Of Avatrice week - Domesticity

[huntersoath]

"I'm not scared. Not of you."

"Today's duel was quite dramatic, did you hear? A huge change in pace, everything's been so boring lately..." A woman speaks in a hushed tone, excitement flashing in the depths of her eyes.

"I did, actually. I wish I had been there. I feel like I really missed out on the drama." Another woman, slightly shorter, held an umbrella over the both of their heads in an attempt to shield them from the light patter of rain.

"I heard his family was in the audience. When it was all done and over with, his wife rushed up and had to be escorted away by the Gardes. I feel a little bad for his son, though... He kept begging for Daddy to get up."

"Seriously? That sounds like something straight out of an Opera, you know. Still a shame that I didn't go."

"That Duelist, Clorinde... She's really scary! I wonder how many people she's killed? And she doesn't even bat an eye!"

"I don't know, I try not to think too much about it..."

Chewing at the inside of her cheek, Clorinde opts to take a longer route home, the detour specifically chosen to avoid any of the populated areas of the Court. ---- "He wouldn't yield." The normal mask of impenetrable calm on Clorinde's façade had begun to crack and crumble under the pressure of her words. She's meant to be a pillar of strength and reliability, her every action and every word measured and deliberate. But as with everyone else, there are bad days. There's days where it's harder to keep a straight face, where it's harder to suppress the feelings that threaten to swallow her whole; when she's presented with the past so plainly, replaying the final moments of Callas Caspar over and over and over in the back of her mind until the only noise she can hear is Navia's scream of anguish. "He knew he would die. He knew it. And as always, I made the conscious decision to do my job, as he made his. There's... no justice to be found in tearing families apart."

Truthfully, it's rare to have such a second guess about her profession. She's always understood the implications of her role, and for the Fontainian public to refer to her as a glorified executioner is not entirely wrong. The blood on her hands has seared into her skin until Clorinde can no longer remember what it felt like before she took a man's life-- there are times at night where she wakes up panting, nails digging into her skin with the sole intention of scraping the memory of red splashed across her palms. There are times where she feels as if she is drowning, where she dreams of a time where on the opposite end of the dueling right, there lies Navia; unmoving, run through with Absolution's blade, and the life essence of another Caspar smeared across her shirt, her skin, her blade. She's not talking about today's duel anymore.

Clorinde's hands are balled into fists so tight that her knuckles run white; they grasped and clawed at the fabric of her skirt as she hunched forward slightly, staring at nothing in particular on the floor. A tremor slowly spread to her arms, and then her shoulders, almost as if she was making a poor attempt to carry a great weight that her body was wholly incapable of bearing. "I don't know how you do this. How you choose to keep me close." The words were blurted without care, far before she has a chance to truly think about it. Yet despite the primal fear that set into her gut, she raised her gaze to lock with the other's-- violet eyes appearing cold and beyond reach, a stark contrast to how she normally presented herself to Navia. She trusted her, implicitly and without hesitation, yet... Navia kept a lion in the den far too close to her to be deemed safe. Clorinde's fangs dripped with blood, and she is beloved by the public, yet only when she is securely caged behind the boundaries of the dueling ring. When everyone is safe from her deadly claws, keeping their distance as she strides in circles around her prey. The stares she gets and the hushed whispers she hears in her wake confirmed the thought on a daily basis. "I'm not scared. Not of you." Navia's tone was softer than she'd ever heard it before, and Clorinde's brows knit as her mouth began to shape around some protest, awful and devastating. The tremble in her lower lip gave away her train of thought, threatening to succumb to the trench that never failed to drag her deep into its depths. Her voice wavered as she spoke, coming out as more of a choked reply than anything else. "I killed him, Navia."

Her eyes, typically steady and discerning, have lost their usual sharpness-- where her breathing normally remained steady, her chest began to rise and fall with a subtle, uneven rhythm. Clorinde felt her eyes begin to water, and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek in a futile attempt to force her tone to remain even and calm. She's highly aware that she didn't deserve this treatment. Navia never had to allow her back into her life, but she did. She did. Perhaps she shouldn't have. Quickly, Clorinde covered her face as the tears began to fall-- and this might be the first time Navia has ever seen her cry, ever since Callas's death and since the seemingly irreparable damage to their relationship. She doesn't want to cry, she doesn't deserve to cry for something like this-- because ultimately, it's her who threw the wrench into the cogs of their relationship, even if she had no other choice but to honor Callas's wish to die by her hands. It's her who drove her blade into the chest of today's opponent, and into the chest of the only man who had treated her like a daughter. "I killed him. I'm sorry, Navia."

She repeated the apology almost as if it were a sort of mantra, curling in on herself as her words are broken by the occasional sharp breath punching through her lungs in the same way a bullet would. If it was Navia holding the gun, she'd take that bullet. It was only fitting, after all, for a daughter to properly avenge her father's killer- perhaps that was the justice she deserved all along.

@dellarosula

[deimos-awaits]

Sorcerer's Melancholy

Even sorcerers following slaanesh get depressed right?

Volupta Delectatio was in one of her moods. She was a slaaneshi sorcereress so most of her moods tended to be rather extreme from happiness to rage. However today, or maybe for the last few todays, her mood had been as it sometimes was going as far as she could remember, melancholy. These melancholy moods were an uncommon yet reliable companion. Volupta had not left her room in the communalka she shared with Rax and Perdeca. Both had been busy recently doing something down in the engineerium.

To make matters worse, she had not particularly left her bed. The melancholy was setting in. Back in the hive before he left the planet, her brother used to stay with her day and night when she was like this. Perdeca normally checked in on her, but she supposed they were busy with some kind of weapon for her guard dog. It was a big bed. It used to host all manner of sensual retreat for the nobles that owned it, and now often did the same for the hivers that had stolen the ship.

Now though? The bed just felt Volupta’s body in a nest of blankets. She wasn't cold. She never ran cold these days, thank the Prince she simply did not want to be seen. There was always the nagging feeling in contrast to her search of higher pleasures and perfections that something had gone wrong. She could summon any number of Blessed Guardians to her side with a simple buzz and call on the ships intercom.. It probably wouldn't be difficult. Get up off the bed, crawl across the room and ask for them.

That was the rub. In order to do any of that; in order to get what she needed; what might help, she would have to actually leave the bed when everything told her to stay. She was so tried, so lethargic, so melancholic she did not want to move.

Her plan for these few days was to sculpt. Not flesh but her other favorite medium, clay that they had harvested from another world. It sat there on her wheel untouched. Most likely dried out by now, having to be reformed. Volupta wondered if she was like that clay all dried out, no longer mutable, stuck. Logically, she knew it was not a small voice in the back on her mind that screamed at her, but it was hard to feel that when everything just told her to stay there unmoving and the rest of her mind smothered the small voice. She never was one for logic.

She wanted to sculpt the clay into something new and exciting, a never-before-seen perfect form, but the first day, it eluded her. The first night, she figured she should sleep in order to get some more ideas in the morning. The second day, she hadn't moved from her bed. The second night, she slept still, and now, here on the third morning, Volupta just lay there.

She kept lying there under the small mountain of blankets she had made, feeling every smaller and smaller. What did it matter, really?

Then, Volupta let out a cry in pain. Something very large and bony had flung itself at her. Voluota tugged down the blanket covering her head. On Top of her was the handsome patchwork form of her loyal guard dog, shaved side hair, and wild grin. “My lady! Volupta! I knew you'd be here!”

Volupta, for the first time in a few days smiled. She sat up and Rax just kept looking up at her with all the enthusiasm of a woman whose collar was no longer administering her sedatives. “Where else would I be, Raxie?”

Rax took a deep breath, and the relatively new speaker implants on her arms began to hum, “Well, there was the mess hell and the stage there, the sex pit, the other sex pit, the orgy room, the garden we have in the ship, your room, Promachos’s room, the room where we keep… weapons? Anyway there's where I was and…that's where I think we were my lady.” Rax kept rambling on. Oh she loved her hound.

Then another voice she didn't expect, “Come now, heel,” Volupta looked up to see Promachos, the scorpion former martial champion of the cult, sitting at the edge of the bed. Their voice was tinged with the accent of their feudal world home. “We had not seen you in days,’

“I lost track of time,” Rax admitted halfway between a whimper and a laugh.

Promachos had to refrain from rolling their eyes. “Yes, well, I did not, and I grabbed her from the forge to check on you, my mademoiselle.”

Volupta looked between them and crawled over to Promachos. Rax followed her, crawling all over the bed. Volupta looked once more between them born and had the whip away the water welling at her eyes. “I thought you two didn't like each other.”

Then an almost simultaneous, “No, we don't.” and “I do not care for your current hound.”

Rax however added, “But we do however care about you! Mademoiselle.” Promachos clawed at her exposed arm with the scorpion tail they had. Rax did her best to hold in a moan.

She then pulled them both into a tight hug. Volupta didn't really know what to say. Rax took this opportunity to pip up, “Ma'am I've got something for you.”

“Oh? You do?” Volupta could not figure out what it was but Rax almost ran outside the room before pushing in a cart. On it was a familiar bowl that was one of the few things she had taken from her hive.

“Made you something! Promachos helped. They helped. A lot.”

They snorted. “It would do no good to have you starve here alone my mademoiselle, Slaanesh knows your hound cannot cook.”

Volupta looked down into the bowl. She wondered if Rax remembered she had given her the very same potato soup when Rax joined the guardians. Promachos had too, they had helped her make it.

[alumort]

for @lotusfartstwice ^3^

ao3

She wasn’t too fond of Winter, and that wouldn’t change no matter how much time passed. Things around her seemed to be still, unmoving, as if the entire world fell into a deep slumber for a couple of months.

Everything seemed so bare, and the hospital was always busier than usual during the colder season. Still, Sakura never got tired of helping people, but the low temperatures always made her mood fall down.

Though, there was an excuse to remain inside after her hospital shifts, warm and accompanied by her boyfriend whenever he wasn’t on a mission– Lee and her had been sharing an apartment for a couple of months, and it had been the best time of her life.

Her parents would be too nitpicky whenever the two were together back at their home, and his mom… there was a reason he didn’t talk about her at all. It was like an unspoken agreement between them.

Both of them were happy with a space to call their own at last, just big enough for them. And it was perfect.

It was one of those afternoons where they would just snuggle together on the couch, a heavy blanket covering them in order to avoid the coldness. Lee had already finished his training for the day and had changed into more comfortable clothes, so they could just enjoy each other’s warmth without a worry in the world.

Sakura leaned into him and he hugged her silently, closing his eyes to rest at last– she always thought the amount of training he did was too much, but that was the only way her partner had to get stronger. That was something she loved in him; his perseverance had no end, and Lee had become a splendid Jounin in the end.

And she couldn’t be prouder of him. Sakura turned to give her partner a gentle kiss on the lips, which was returned with the same amount of love, though something unexpected surprised her; Lee's bangs tickled her, when that had never been a problem at all.

His last mission had lasted over a month, and he had probably forgotten to take care of his hair between everything that had to be done.

“Your hair has gotten really long. Are you going to ask Gai to cut it again?” she commented, noticing a smile appearing on Lee’s face before he replied.

“Ah– not really. I want to try a new style for a while,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck while talking. “But I am not too sure of what to do with it…”

That was unusual, to say the least. Sakura couldn't remember a time where Lee didn't use his characteristic bowlcut, never changing it at all– but well, that year had brought many new things in their lives. Maybe that's why he was willing to try.

“I could do it for you, if you'd let me,” Sakura suggested, and she could see her boyfriend's eyes sparkle with excitement over the idea, his reply being accompanied by an enthusiastic nod.

“Of course! I am sure you would do an excellent job, my dearest!”

It wasn’t strange he was so excited over the idea, yet the woman found herself feeling joy in her chest with his response. Only then did she leave the warmth of his embrace, making sure to kiss his cheek before going towards the bathroom to look for some things.

With an objective in mind, Sakura went to pick up some hair ties, a comb and her scissors, smiling as she saw Lee had started to prepare some tea for them to drink in the meanwhile. He had even grabbed a towel to put on himself, to make sure the falling hair wouldn’t bother either of them too much.

“Do you have something in mind?” she asked as Lee poured tea on two cups, offering her one without saying anything.

“Well, I am not sure if I told you, but I used to have a big braid when I was in the academy!” he replied with a smile, taking a sip of his beverage before continuing. “I think that might be nice.”

Sakura grabbed her comb and began brushing his hair, making sure it was in a good state before carefully cutting the edges and his fringe, not wanting to cut too much– Lee seemed worried for a moment, though her reassuring smile helped him calm down.

“Shorter?” she asked, staying still until her boyfriend denied with his head, and so the last part of the process began.

Sakura grabbed some hair ties and carefully began braiding part of Lee's hair, always gentle enough as to not make him feel any pain at all– a long time had passed since she had last made braids, so it took her a couple of attempts.

Lee waited patiently, stealing a quick kiss from her when she stood in front of him, making her chuckle in surprise. Sakura kissed his forehead before focusing on her last attempt, which she deemed better than the last four.

“And�� it’s done! It looks really good now, let me get you a mirror so you can see yourself!” Sakura said, going to find the item quickly and then extending it towards her boyfriend with a huge smile on her face, proud of her work.

Lee grabbed the mirror and observed his own reflection with curious eyes, while moving his head to see his small braid and the new shape of his hair. For a moment, Sakura felt nervous, instinctively waiting for a negative reaction– until a huge grin appeared on his face, and then he turned to look at his girlfriend again.

“It is awesome, love!” was the first thing he said, leaning towards Sakura for a kiss, which she returned while chuckling. “What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just… for a moment, I thought you weren’t going to like it,” she admitted, her eyes falling on the ground for a moment before she felt a pair of strong arms wrapping her unexpectedly, though she didn't complain at all.

“Why would you think that, my dearest? You did an excellent job! And you did it with love.”

He was right, yet there still had been some doubt in herself– after all, it was her first time styling someone else's hair, but Lee did seem content with his new look. She couldn’t help it but hug him wordlessly, happy for the results and his eagerness, not really wanting to interrupt the small moment between the two.

From then on, Lee always asked her for help with styling his hair, and he even began helping Sakura whenever she asked him to– they liked to try new styles they saw on magazines and, later on, cellphones and social media. It was like a small ritual the two had developed over the years, something they shared with their kids years in the future, and everyone usually ended up content with the new looks.

(Though, at first, the only haircut Lee knew how to do well was Gai’s characteristic bowlcut… Sakura ended up just shaving it all for a while.)

[nowiamcoveredinyou]

Clandestine meetings (part 6)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8

Sherlock x (married) oc!

The whole day passed by as Devi sat absent minded. Debashish watched her bizzare behaviour but preferred to stay quiet. Devi did cook but hardly paying any attention. She couldn't stay away from Holmes anymore. Yet it was probably the last time she'll see him. She got his wire, he said he solved the case. That's it? She thought as she recieved his words. She wanted to … well, whatever she wanted wasn't possible for an Indian married woman in 1887.

She replied him saying she wants to meet him in order to thank him. She was no longer excited to meet him anymore. Who gets excited for the last meeting? He's a busy man, he'd hardly have time to meet her, to have a few clandestine meetings. Thinking all this she went towards the door, last or not, she was going to meet Holmes, and that was enough.

“Where are you going?” her husband called out from behind, startling her as she turned around. Sensing rage in his husband's tone of speaking.

Devi hated being a coward but she genuinely fears her husband's rage, she composed herself. Meeting Holmes would enrage Debashis so she came up with a sloppy excuse, “Just… going out for a walk.”

Debashish laughed maniacally, as if she said something unbelievable, “Walk? Walk? Oh, so going out to meet another man in secret is called ‘walking’ now. You are not hiding it from me, your own husband, all that well, just so you know.”

Devi's heart as if broke into pieces. Her cheeks turned red out of embarrassment. A tear trickled down and fell on the floor. Debashish, the man she thought the whole world of was nothing but a man mocking her. The man she wished would love, respect and adore her was the one insulting her, the man she wanted to have kids with but he was too busy to make his career to ever pay attention to her need of love. However one thing was true, she definitely was going to meet Holmes and she definitely loves him, this gave him strength and she raised her voice finally, “When have you ever been a proper husband to me? Four years of marriage and never. Not even once.”

“How dare you!” growled Debashish is anger as he slowly approached her. If it was before the case Devi would've asked forgiveness immediately but Devi has changed she stood strong, unmoving and replied,

“And hiding what? It is not as though I have an illicit relationship with Mr Holmes. I'm only going to thank him for solving this case. As should you. If not for his help, you would be jobless right now.” No there wasn't any affair, but there was love, and doesn't always need a named relationship to be born. It can be born anywhere, in anyone, for anyone.

Debashish was surprised to see her like this, poor little Devi? Where was she? Who's this strong grown up woman, he went closer to her and shouted, “Enough! Where are your manners? If gratitude is all you want to express, you need not do that in person. You could very well write him a letter, the way I was going to! Are you not aware of how you should be talking to your husband? The owner of this house and the future head of the family? I have every right to throw you out of my house given how you're talking to me at present and the way you have been behaving lately.”

They say words are like darts, you can't take them back once they're out. And when it hits the target, it hurts like hell, that's how Devi felt when her husband snapped at her like that, she wiped her tears and went straight to their bedroom. She took a bag and started to pack her things. Debashish stood at their living room, wondering what just happened, he yelled from there asking,

“Where are you going?”

As he saw Devi heading towards the flat door with a bag.

“You don't have to throw me out of your house. I will see myself out.” She answered as she went to open the door. Her hands gripped the door knob tightly as she heard debashish's cold mocking laughter. Life with him taught her more about Debashish than Debashish will ever know about Devi. She's always been an observant individual. Most of the primary lessons of sitar she learnt was by seeing elders playing it.

“And where will you go?” Asked her husband with a mockery in his tone, “You cannot even afford to go to your parents’ house until you cool down like you used to. They live in a different country, remember?”

She turned to face him with her teary eyes, yet her fire wasn't deemed.

“I'll stay at any place but here. Wherever I go, what is it to you?”

However the only other place she could be in was Baker Street. To explain Holmes why she left was something she hardly had any patience for. So for now, she left the bag near the sofa and this time with some force flew the door open. As she stepped one foot outside her husband called from behind making her look at him on last time before she leaves,

“That determined, are you? Fine, then. Take this.”

Devi's heart sank seeing her husband taking off the expensive golden ring that her parents gifted him as their blessings on the day they got married. Her marriage, she was sixteen. Everything came crystal clear to her. The memories of her marriage.

Debashish took it off and threw it accross the room,

“This was the gift your mother gave me when we got married, was it not?”

Devi couldn't hold herself anymore she burst into tear and ran downstairs. The last thing she heard from her husband was,

“Give that ring to Sherlock Holmes! He is its rightful owner isn't he? He is the love of your life, after all!”

She swallowed rest of her sorrow before going out into the streets and hailing a cab.

It was Holmes or no one.

*

At Baker Street, more specifically at 221b, the fire lit deemly inside the fireplace, so did the lamp. As john watson was already off to his bedroom. Sherlock Holmes was draped in his comfortable clothes and his dressing gown over him. He was about to blow the lamp when he heard a loud, desperate knock on The door.

He knitted his brow and stared at the door, wondering who would it be at this hour. The whole City was quiet, every shop was closed.

Perhaps a desperate client?

He stepped towards the door, with the intention of answering it. Who needs to see him at this time? One or two clients have actually come to see him at this time but what could be disturbing the person outside the door? Does he need help to solve a murder? Robbery? Theft? Is it someone from Scotland yard? He wondered as another loud knock was heard this time he shook off his thoughts and paced towards the door faster. Opening the door a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. He certainly didn't even know he could feel so much. It was the person expected the least at this hour. The same young, lean, innocent friend of his who's thoughts have been bothering him for a few days,

“Mrs Dey?” he said and his concern increased as he saw her big, beautiful brown eyes were welled up with tears. She wiped her cheeks and eyes with both her hands and started with a bit of irritation,

“Please,” she said in a soft voice. “Please, just… just drop all that - that formality. My name is Devi. Just Devi! Do you hear me?”

Holmes furrowed his brow, and nodded, feeling concerned. He stepped aside to let her in. He could see something happened that's not very pleasant that she's here in this state of mind.

She stepped inside the flat and Holmes closed the door behind him.

The next thing he knew, Mrs - er - Devi leaped into the arms of Sherlock Holmes. She wrapped her arms round his neck and stood on tiptoes, crying, weeping heavily as clung to him as if her life depended on him.

Holmes froze at his place, even stepped back a bit before gathering himself to stand still. He hates being touched and now? A woman was embracing him by his neck. He was never this much perplexed in his whole life, he didn't even true to deduce anything at this time, he just… let the moment happen, he just let Devi cry if that made her lighter a bit.

Holmes had the least idea about what to do at this moment. He, after sometime wrapped his arms around Devi. He held her by her back carefully as he ran his fingers through the revealing back from her blouse, feeling the shivers his touch was causing to Devi.

He also noticed that Devi's wedding necklace - mangalsutra as they called it, according to Holmes’ latest research - was missing.

He hated to realise what has happened between them. He was haunted to face Devi's feelings one day. The last thing he wanted to do was face what was coming next, Devi's emotions, that too, to a man who abhors them.

“I had a fight with my husband,” she said in between her sobbing. “Well, the man I've been forced to call my husband for four years. It was not an ordinary fight. I have chosen to leave him.”

Holmes stood still, unaware of what to do. He thought it'd be better if he keeps soothing her for she was weeping holding onto him, like he deduced, there was barely anyone with whom she can share what she feels. However the thought of her making the impulsive decision to leave her husband was a bit sloppy according to him. Holmes was logical enough to never get overcome with emotion, so much that he ultimately makes a decision in haste. So he thought he better talk to her about the decision. She doesn't have money, doesn't know much places here, only a fool would let her go and the last thing Holmes wanted to see is Devi being hurt, she was already hurt enough. So he asked softly,

“Where will you go, Devi? What will you do? It is not wise for you to leave that house so suddenly, and that too at this hour.”

As a matter of fact Holmes knew Devi has temper issues and raising doubts on her decision would only enrage her more. She pulled away from the embrace yet her chin and left hand still on Holmes' chest and right on his shoulder. Devi stared at him with her beautiful brown eyes, however all teary as she protested,

“I did not come here asking for your pity,” Devi said, finally letting him go. “I will go wherever I please.”

“Of course.” Holmes smiled, as he finally stood comfortably keeping his hands behind his back. Devi and Holmes stood in silence. Devi wiped her tears and realised someone was missing.

“Where is Dr Watson?” she enquired.

“He is asleep.”

“All right. I was going to come here anyway, regardless of my fight with that bloody Dey. I wanted to thank you - both you and Dr Watson - for everything you have done for the two of us. Accepting the case, solving it efficiently, saving my former husband's job - everything. He would have been unemployed and, sooner or later, on the streets, if not for your help. Thank you.” She folded her hands infront of him. A greeting which indians use, and often to show gratitude as well.

Holmes was thrown off yet again. He thought for a second about this gesture, recalling it's an Indian way to show respect, he returned it too. He folded his hands gesture was quite similar to his own thinking pose, he thought, and felt somewhat warm in his heart as he too nodded while returning the gesture and getting back to his usual self.

“I was only doing my job, and so was Watson. You do not have to thank us. However, your gratitude is extremely appreciated, anyway.”

Devi kept looking at him. Sherlock Holmes, the first time she met him, was the day her heart belated faster, for the first time after her wedding day. First time in four years she felt like she can't take her eyes off of him. He helped her and Debashish and in a few days Debashish will be regaining his job while that bloody Reynolds will be exposed and thrown to jail. Debashish, only if he loved her like she tried to for four years. If he did, then perhaps she wouldn't be leaving him, holding feelings for this, other man. Her parents, if they gets to know they'll never talk to her ever. Oh how hard it is to bid Holmes a farewell. It's like Devi leaving a part of her here at his flat. She probably can't keep it in her anymore, any moment she'd speak the three words that she never heard, to him, the man who's not her husband.

At the moment of silence Holmes too stared at her thinking the first time she came to him, innocent, submissive, stared at him with fascinated eyes and what not. It always makes him smile when he recalls the Devi she met. But it always makes him proud the Devi she's now, independent, mature, not afraid to express love either. Standing there, staring right into the man's eyes whom she loves. Love, however, is not something Sherlock Holmes considers to be for himself. Love, how haunting. Yet to make the situation less awkward he broke the silence,

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Devi was startled, perhaps a bit bit embarrased as she looked down at the ground,

“I just.. um,” she trailed off and cleared her throat. “I’ve been meaning to say this to you for quite some time. You do not have to - do not feel pressured or anything, it’s just that I…”

Holmes feared it, but something about her fearless, unabashed way of expressing herself intrigued him, he took her hand and lead her to his armchair and held her hands as he said,

“Take your time.”

Holmes could see the emotions shift in Devi’s eyes. Her eyes became fierce all of a sudden.

“I have - I have feelings for you. I love you, Mr Sherlock Holmes.”

His heart gave a tug, a confession of love he never really thought to recieve, he nodded. The grip of his hand on Devi's tightened. Unaware of what to say, unable to form a sentence, Holmes opened his mouth just to shut it down.

“Please do not think of me as a woman who lacks moral integrity in her character. I am not that kind of a woman. I know I had been married to a man for four years, but… if only he had shown a third of the concern in these four years as you did in a matter of a few days! These are not just words, Mr Holmes. I truly do feel this way about you.”

He never knew even a man like him who barely has emotions would be enough for a lovely young lady like her to love than the so called normal man she's married. He could see Devi was genuine with her feelings, he couldn't bring himself to reply just to break his heart, however he had to answer,

“I don’t think that about your character, Devi. On the contrary, I think that you are smart and brave. Standing up for your husband when you were still with him, coming here to us for help, doing whatever you could to ensure that his job was safe, and being honest about your true feelings just now - these things are not easy. You did all that anyway. Your actions have been very commendable so far, and I respect you for that. However, there is just this one thing that you need to know: I do not feel the same way,” said Holmes and immediately began to rub the back of her hands with his thumbs, still looking up at her and holding her intense gaze, as though that would soften the blow.

Devi’s eyes were tearful again. She thought he liked her, the way he smiled at her, the way he talked, the way he… he was holding her hands,

“You don’t?”

Holmes furrowed his brow as his  heart sank, wishing so much that he could do something to make her feel better. Even wishing if he wasn't like this, if he could return what Devi feels for him. Devi deserves something better he thought, even that she perhaps deserves someone better than him. Perhaps a man with more emotional maturity,

“I feel flattered that you have these sentiments for me, and I truly respect them. I cannot return the sentiments, however, and I am extremely sorry. I cannot help what I feel either, or rather, what I do not feel.”

“I thought we had something! The day we were both talking about my sitaar and your violin.” Devi said taking her hands away from his grip.

Holmes closed his eyes and shook his head, knowing nothing else to say to this.

“Do you think there is some flaw in me? I would do anything to fix it - anything at all - for you.” she said this time holding his hands instead that rested in her lap.

“That is absolutely not the case’. He answered immediately, “I am not blind. You are beautiful, kind, brave, and so many other things. Any other man in the world would be lucky to have you; your husband was a buffoon to treat you like that.”

“Then why not you?” Desperation was evident in her voice. She wanted to be loved, especially by the man she loves, “Wait a minute, is there someone else in your life? I am so sorry. I did not know,  I should have.” she stood up feeling more embarrased than ever.

“No, there is no one. I am a bachelor. I always have been.” Sherlock Holmes replied immediately without wasting a second. He'd hate to be considered something he's not and he's never loved and never will.

“Oh,  really? I wondered if you were married, or maybe, romantically involved with someone.” Devi felt a bit relieved to know he had no one yet wondered then why not her. She giggled as she tucked a hair strand behind her ear.

Holmes chuckled. “What made you think that? There really is no one, and that is the point: I do not need anyone to fulfil a romantic position in my life. Call that an idiosyncrasy, cruel caprice of mother nature, or anything that you wish. I am who I am: a lone wolf with the exception of Watson by his side. I am not made for romance.”

Devi gave him a resigned look. “All right.” She said, looking at him. At least he was still making her smile, like always “I wish things were different for you, though. For us.”

“I wish that too, sometimes.” Holmes said looking down, feeling terrible for hurting the woman he wants nothing but happiness for.

Devi sighed and shaking her head she went towards the door. She turned to glance at him, last time before she … returns to her doomed flat, rather her husband's flat, where else will she go? Mr Holmes was right, she isn't safe alone. However she wanted a last hug before she goes so she ran to him, baffling the detective as she asked, “May I?”

Holmes chuckled at her innocence, he understood and wrapped her in embrace. He wished all the joys of the world for her.

A moment passed. And they pulled away as he said,

“I can send my violin notes to your address, if you wish. Those would be helpful for your music lessons.”

Devi nodded, and replied,

“I would like to write to you, to keep you informed about the upcoming changes in my life,”

“I’d like that too. Actually it's late, let me get a cab for you” Holmes said taking his dressing gown off, “cabbies of Baker Street knows me well, they'd carefully drop you to your flat”.

“Would you write back?” She enquired as they both walked downstairs.

Holmes nodded with determination. “That is a promise.”

Holmes carefully helped her getting into the cab and stood at the pavement, staring into the distance until the cab disappeared in fog. He sighed and cared to return to his flat as he realised he came out with no coat and the night was freezing.

[vinvantae]

requesting a driver!reader has like a terrible accident and is in a coma and we get to see the drivers’ like talking w her trying to wake her up or smthing, like sharing memories and all (maybe some angst?)

warnings - mentions of death, explicit language, description of injury and a crash, angst angst and more angst (especially with Charles). This one hurt to write besties. It’s long and painful so buckle up.

I didn’t write the whole grid but it’s implied that they all go and see the reader.

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

It had been nearly 6 years since they lost one of their own, six years since Jules’ life had been cut short and almost every single one of them could remember the day as clear as crystal. So when they all heard the radio message ‘red flag, big big crash, red flag’ they couldn’t help but feel the pit in their stomach grow.

Sure, the halo had made many a driver survive what should’ve been fatal crashes but as they all slowly made their way back to the pits and saw the damage to the car this was different. The side of the car wasn’t built for impact in the same way the front and the rear were - so when a fellow car going 200 kmph+ made contact with the side of you, the damage was done.

No one felt it like him. It was his home Grand Prix. The cursed track - and now he feared that it was your cursed track too. He’d not wanted to come, he never did, and the fact the rain was torrential made it all the more terrifying. It was a fight enough to get out of his own car - the front of it was practically inside of yours but his halo had done its job - but seeing you, unmoving, made him panic.

“Y/n!” He called out. “Y/n! Are you okay?”

He made it over to you before the Marshalls did, dropping to his knees beside the car and pulling his gloves off to reach inside and find even an ounce of proof that he hadn’t just killed his best friend. As his fingers found your wrist, he found the faintest trace of a pulse and started screaming for medics. There was no way he was going to let you go without a fight.

All of the garages were sat in silence as they waited on news - the drivers all huddled together in the briefing room with heads held low, bouncing knees and skin chewed raw around the edges of fingers. They’d all been so excited for you to get your seat at Alfa Romeo but now the crisp white and red car was barely recognisable. When Charles had practically been peeled off the side of the wreck, he was ushered into the room with the rest of the drivers - expecting nothing but rage to be thrown his way.

But when Pierre’s arms immediately pulled him into a hug, he broke down - his cries of anguish breaking the hearts of his fellow drivers. They’d all been in a crash before, but nothing quite like this. And when the race was called off in its entirety, they knew it was bad.

It was a week before any of them were allowed to see you - no news except ‘she’s alive, but not stable.’ Your family, thankfully, were already in Monaco as it was your home Grand Prix, but the drivers found it very hard to stay away. So when your Mum gave them the all clear, they should’ve felt relieved - but the look on her face was one of a woman who thought she was going to lose her child and decided to let your friends say goodbye.

Sebastian went first. No one had fought him on it, he was the only one brave enough to see you at first. The German driver stepped into the room and had to hold back the sick feeling he felt in his stomach at the sight that was a little too familiar to him. He didn’t want to compare you to Michael but in that moment you were a spitting image. He cautiously approached the bed and sat beside you, his warm hand finding your cold one. Nothing but the soft beeping of your heart monitor filled his ears, he knew too well that a simple touch of a hand wasn’t going to be enough to wake you. But, he hoped you could at least hear him.

“I remember how nervous you were your first race this year, scared you’d mess up or make a fool of yourself.” He hummed quietly. “But you were absolutely fantastic. A point in your very first race in F1? Absolutely wonderful, I remember the smile on your face when you took off your helmet. You didn’t even care that Valtteri had beaten you.”

He took a pause to let out a shaky breath. “…I’m so proud of you. This isn’t the end of your career, I know you’re going to wake up. You’re gonna get your first podium and make a name for yourself.”

Valtteri’s visit was short and sweet, he’d immediately taken you under his wing when you’d joined Alfa Romeo even though he was fresh to the team himself. You’d brought out the soft side of the Finn that most didn’t get to see - he saw himself in you. He wasn’t really a man of words, but he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t see you, at least once.

“So Uhm, when I said break a leg…” He chuckled sadly. “You know I didn’t mean it right?”

He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t expecting a response but he couldn’t help but want to hear your voice.

“You better wake up soon.” He continued, placing the flowers he got you beside your bed. “I know the car hasn’t been fantastic this year and you’ve had one too many DNFs that weren’t your fault but… I’ve not had a teammate like you in a while and… I just want you there with me.”

Charles knew that he should’ve been the first to see you, that he should’ve been by your bedside this whole time - but the gnawing guilt that it was him who did this to you made even the thought of him going, made him want to throw up. So when he heard Lewis say he was going, it gave him another excuse to put it off.

Lewis was the first one to take purchase on the side of your bed, his tattooed hands taking your limp one in his. He was always one for inspirational words but in that moment he struggled to find any. He never lied to you and he didn’t want to start now, so that idea of saying ‘you’ll make it through this’ just didn’t feel right.

“I…” He hesitated and let out a deep sigh. “I really miss you. You bring such energy to the paddock and your optimism despite all the shit that’s been thrown at you is really admirable. Do you remember our fight in Saudi? I was so impressed, you weren’t willing to just let me by without a struggle. Not scared that you had a champion in your mirrors and I admire that…”

His eyes flickered across your face, hoping you’d crack a smile but when nothing happened he simple gave your hand a soft squeeze. “Just, don’t give up on us, okay?”

Over the next couple of days, your room began to flood with flowers and gifts from the grid. The drivers you were closest too struggled to visit, but with some reassurance from those who had been that you just looked like you were resting, they began to slowly come in.

Daniel lost track of time when he came to visit, just sat back in the chair beside your bed, rattling off stories of the pranks you’d played on the other drivers together. Sure, his bond with you was still fresh - you’d only properly met this year - but the two of you had matching energy and found each other pretty quickly. He’d lost Jules and he certainly wasn’t going to lose you too.

“I’m just one half an idiot… need you back.” He whispered, his hand finally coming to rest on top of yours. “It’s… I’ve just not felt like me. Which is weird because before we met I was already an absolute moron but now I just don’t feel right, knowing that you’re in here instead of hiding Pierre’s underwear in the freezer… so, if you could wake up, I’d… I’d appreciate it. I miss you.”

When Lando came, he was surprised to see Charles asleep in the waiting room outside - his legs tucked up onto the sofa and his face squashed against the side. The Brit asked the nurse at the desk if he’d gone in yet and she simply shook her head. “He has walked to the door 3 or 4 times but hasn’t gone in. He’s been here for 2 days now… he won’t leave but he won’t visit y/n.”

Lando wanted to offer Charles his company when he went in but he knew your fellow Monagasque would want to be alone. So he quietly stepped into the room, adding his gift to the flowers that practically lined the walls.

“I know you don’t actually like flowers that much, well, cut ones anyway… cus they die so… I got you something else.” He explained, sitting down beside the bed. “You’ll have to wake up to see what it is though…”

The young Brit studied you intently, they’d taken off your neck brace that morning and your skin was pale and littered with bruises. “P-please wake up. I… fuck… I-“

He wiped away his tears with his sleeve. “They want us to carry on racing, they’re expecting us all to go to Azerbaijan tomorrow and act like nothing is wrong… it’s fucking unfair. Fucking ‘we race as one’ my fucking ass… only three drivers have actually gone already. The rest of us are still here. Our teams are practically begging us so they don’t get fined but… fuck them. Honestly fuck them. It’s barely been two weeks and we’re supposed to race knowing one of our best friends isn’t in a fucking coma?”

He groaned and rest his head against the sheets. “I won’t do it. I just… I just won’t.”

“…please just wake up, y/n. I promise I’ll stop stealing your snacks and I promise I’ll-I’ll…” he sighed softly. “I don’t even know if you can hear us, but… I feel like I want to tell you that Charles is here. I know he wants to see you but he can’t stop blaming himself. He wants to be with you, he’ll come around eventually… just… just try and wake up okay?”

Pierre sat cautiously beside Charles in the waiting room, the driver now awake but the heavy bags underneath showing his sleep was anything but pleasant. “I’m going in again this afternoon, do you want to come in with me? You don’t have to say anything just… maybe seeing y/n will help you think about what you want to say.”

Charles chewed at the skin around his finger. “I don’t think I deserve to go in there. Fuck, it was me who did that…”

“It was the rain, Charles. It could’ve been any of us, the fact it was you doesn’t-“

“So you’re saying that it’s just a coincidence that at my home Grand Prix where I’m famous for having the worst luck it’s me who nearly killed y/n?” He snapped, covering his face with his hands.

Pierre sighed. “She’s going to be okay, Charles. That’s y/n in there, not someone who’s going down without a fight. The doctors say they’re seeing signs of improvement every day, and I know you’ll regret it if y/n wakes up and knows you didn’t visit.”

Charles watched as his childhood friend disappeared into your room. He was being a coward and he knew it, coming to visit you was the absolute bare minimum he owed you. He could’ve ruined your entire career before it truly started and he was too much of a scaredy-cat to even go in there and apologise.

Pierre linked his fingers with yours and have your hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey, me again… sorry, can’t seem to stay away long can I?”

Unlike your other childhood friend, Pierre had been more times than anyone else. Scared that you’d wake up alone, he didn’t want there to be even a second that you were by yourself. So if your family weren’t there or another driver then he’d be by your side, it should be Charles but until he pulled his act together Pierre was going to stay here.

“Hey, do you remember the time that me, you and Charles went tomb-stoning?” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “Both of us were absolutely shitting our pants but you? You jumped into the ocean like it was nothing. And the absolute grin on your face when you resurfaced was enough to get both of us in. You’ve always been our little leader, the two of us are absolutely lost without you…”

He fiddled with your fingers as he spoke. “They said you’re making improvements, but I just… I miss the sound of your voice and… your smile… your laugh… I didn’t realise just how much you improved my life until you weren’t there.”

A stray tear rolled down his cheek but he let it fall, he wasn’t ashamed of how seeing you like this made him feel. “And I’m not racing this weekend. I’ve told my team I’ll pay the fine. I know some people want to race but you’ve had such an impact that a lot of us just don’t feel ready. I… I don’t feel ready. I think it’s dangerous, a lot of will make stupid mistakes because we’re being over cautious and I’m just… god, I’m scared. We need our leader, our voice of reason. You were never afraid to get behind the wheel of the car and fuck, you’re the bravest person I know…”

He brought your hand up and held it close to him. “I… please wake up, y/n. We need you. I need you. I feel like that little kid who was too scared to do things, I need my best friend to come back and tell me everything is gonna be okay… please, tell me everything will be okay.”

The tears were flowing freely at this point, he was absolutely terrified that he’d never hear the sound of your voice again. Sure, they said you were improving but he just couldn’t see the signs - you still looked so frail and broken. His head lifted when heard the door open, Charles slowly stepping into the room.

“Hey…” Pierre said, his voice cracking a little. “She’ll be glad you’re here.”

“…I…” the Monagasque took a shaky breath, stepping into the room and coming over to you. “…can I be alone with her? If that’s okay?”

Pierre rose and gave his friend a quick hug before leaving the two of you alone. Charles stood over your bed, assessing the damaged he’d done - your arm was in a cast, your nose and eyes looked bruised and your skin was just littered with damage. He cautiously sat beside you and linked his fingers with yours, something he’d done many times in the past but this time was different, your hand was so cold.

“…hey, I’m… I’m sorry it took me so long.” He whispered. “I’m a coward, I did this to you and I couldn’t face the consequences… I know it was raining and we couldn’t see but I’m still so fucking sorry. I… I tried everything to steer the car away but I lost it a-and… there’s no excuse, I hurt you so bad y/n… I’m sorry.”

The tears were streaming down his cheeks as he looked at you. You looked so small, broken. “I… you can’t stay like this anyway… how am I supposed to make it up to you if you stay asleep huh?”

“Gonna take you to all the movies you like… take you to all your favourite dinner spots… buy you lots of snacks and you remember those… remember those little sweets you like? Gonna buy you a bathtub full.”

He smiled softly. “I know you’ve never been one for apology with presents. Actions. Gonna show you every day for the rest of our lives just how sorry I am… just need you to wake up first. How are you gonna win races when you’re asleep.”

As stupid as it was, he thought the sound of his voice would be enough to wake you - but it wasn’t a movie. He’d broken you and your body needed to heal… or so he thought.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or not, feels a little weird talking at you, usually you’re the chatterbox… but I just want you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere…” He smiled softly, looking away from your face to look at your small hand in his. “Stuck with me I’m afraid.”

“…damn, could really do with a juice box.”

His head snapped up to see you looking at him with tired eyes and a tiny smile.

“Hey…” you whispered. “Pretty bad crash then, huh?”

Charles was speechless. “I-I… oh my god, y/n… I-I should get the nurse-“

“N-no wait.” You protested weakly, groaning a little as you grappled at his hand as he tried to leave. “I-I want time with you… I-I want to tell you we’re okay, Charles.”

“We are?” He said, sitting down beside you. “I did this to you, y/n…”

“Mon amour… it was an accident.” You whispered, giving his hand a weak squeeze. “We’re more than okay, I promise.”

You winced a little. “…maybe get the nurse now though.”

Charles nodded and started pressing the call button. You sighed softly, and relaxed back against the sheets - although you were hurting, you knew how loved you were. You’d heard every little thing they’d said, each and every one of your fellow drivers had gushed over you and you felt so special.

Now all you wanted was to get back in the car.

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

Yay happy ending 🧡 hope you enjoyed x

There is now a part two! You can find it here

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[daydreamerdrew]

The Avengers (1963) #29

[maracujatangerine]

9. Lost Property

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

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As soon as the plane touched the ground, even before the seatbelt sign was turned off, Lydia tried to start her phone. Nothing. It was a slab of blank, mute, unmoving metal in her hands. In a flash, she remembered plugging in her charger next to her side of the bed in the hotel room the night before and that the socket was yet another thing that didn’t work as expected in the room. Crucially, she didn’t remember taking the charger with her in the morning.

Lydia hadn’t been speaking much to Colton on the flight. Even reassurances seemed to stress the pet out. As they made their way through arrivals, though, it was necessary to make sure he knew what was going on. She told him where they were, and where to go. She asked him to help carry some of her luggage and he obeyed instantly. She told him to wait, and he waited. She told him to go somewhere, and he went. Coriander might have dared to ask a question or two, by now. He would have been so excited by the view from the airport and the new languages being spoken all around them. Colton was clearly interested, but every time he saw Lydia looking in his direction he dropped his eyes to the floor. He was stiff with tension, and stayed very close to her.

She spent an unproductive forty-five minutes at a help desk talking to airport staff who all were varying degrees of helpful to unhelpful and most just simply confused at how to tackle this unusual problem. Lydia struggled to first find out whether pets were allowed to fly unaccompanied or not. When the answer, as she had feared, was negative, she tried unsuccessfully to negotiate a way around it. Finally, with a deep sigh, she thanked the last staff member and turned away, resigned.

“I’m sorry, Colton.” She forced a smile, despite the hard, cold knot of worry in her stomach. “I’m afraid we are stuck with each other for the time being.” The pet nodded quickly, eyes downcast.

“Do you need anything, Colton? Any food, or water?”

Col looked at her in surprise. “I’m fine, Ma’am. Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re not hungry?” Then, after a few seconds of silence, she prompted, “Col?”

“I’m f-fine, I swear,” Col pleaded, not making eye contact. Every word he was forced to speak made his heart pound even harder. He wasn’t supposed to be talking, he wasn’t supposed to be asked questions. He was only going to make this woman angry. “Please don’t trouble yourself with me, Ma’am.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. The pet looked terribly uncomfortable. “Well, I need to buy a new phone charger and then I’ll see if we can find a cafe or something to stop in for a second. We can eat at the hotel, too. Is that all right with you?”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am.”

Clearly a lot of work had gone into making him so broken and pliable. Her stomach twisted with nerves when she thought about Cory, stuck in Linden’s house. At least, she assumed that was where he was. Surely Linden wouldn’t abandon him?

When he was sure Lydia wasn’t looking, Col glanced up at her. Her face was taut, her lips pressed together tightly; she was deep in thought. Was she worrying about her own pet, or wondering what to do with this one? Or was she constantly in a state of moderate stress, only needing the smallest push for her to snap and take it all out on the sorry slave by her side? Even if it hadn’t been Colton’s fault that he ended up here, that changed nothing. He could still be punished for it. That was how it worked.

He missed Master so much. Lydia was asking him so many questions, and he didn’t know the answer to any of them. He was going to make a mistake and then she’d realise that he was just a stupid, useless pet, so much worse than her pretty and graceful Coriander. Colton couldn’t live up to that, he just couldn’t! Lydia was used to owning a high standard of pet, and she was going to be so, so annoyed with Col. She was going to see that it wasn’t worth the hassle of keeping him. If he was at least allowed to stay silent, he might be able to obey well enough for just a little while longer.

Col couldn’t read any of the signs. The people walking by him, drowning him, they were all speaking in another language. If Lydia abandoned him now he would be truly lost. He had to try and keep her favour. But what did she want?

*

“Cory?” Linden called softly, just loud enough for the pet to hear. “It’s time for dinner.”

Linden had reached for a simple dahl, warm, filling comfort food. Nothing too spicy, just straightforward flavours of rice and lentils, tomatoes and onions, with some carrots and red peppers for a pop of colour.

He had set the table, just as he would for a dinner with Col. A spoon next to the pet’s plate, easy to grip and hold for trembling hands. A tumbler half-filled with water, the sturdy glass also easy for the pet to lift with both hands. Failing that, a stainless steel straw. A safe distance from both plates, Linden had lit a couple of tea lights in glass holders, casting a warm, gentle glow over the table - he had assumed Cory wouldn’t react badly to the fire.

Coriander had been coaxed into kneeling on the soft rug in the living room, and it was from there that it elegantly stood up. It made its way into the kitchen and promptly sank to its knees once more. It looked around, but couldn’t see a dog bowl, or anything like that. How did Colton get fed? Was it from his owner’s hand, or was it just dumped on the floor for him to lick up? Cory was surprised that it was being fed at all. It had mostly assumed that Linden would forget, or not bother.

Linden was turned away, and Cory watched him fill two bowls up with something colourful and gently steaming. “I don’t have much in the cupboards right now,” Linden said, even though it wasn’t any of the pet’s business. “So it’s dahl for tea.”

A pause. “Th...thank you, Sir. But this pet really doesn’t deserve any.”

That was what he wanted, right? Patheticness? But to its confusion, Linden just looked at it and shook his head.

“Nonsense, you have to eat. Do you wa- are you able to sit at the table?”

From his place on the floor, Cory shook its head vehemently. “If… if you please, Sir. Pets belong on the floor. T-this pet knows its place.”

Linden studied the pet for a moment. He guessed that Coriander was of a similar age to himself. What would his own life have been like, Linden thought suddenly, if he had ended up a pet? What sort of experiences was this man’s life filled with?

Those grey eyes watched him fearfully, reminding him that the pet probably expected a reply.

“It’s alright.” Linden tried. “You are welcome to eat at the table here.”

Coriander just watched him apprehensively, seemingly trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible.

“P-pets do not eat at the table, Sir.”

Linden was suddenly thankful that he had overcome this fear with Col. Seeing Cory refuse so intensely, he felt as if having Col at the table was a real milestone. In the present, however, Linden gave in. He handed the spoon and the bowl to Coriander and placed the tumbler of water on the floor next to him. To his great relief, the pet proceeded to eat daintily, but with a healthy appetite. He had no problem handling the cutlery, at least.

Linden proceeded to eat the dahl by hand, absentmindedly shaping the mixture of rice and stew into perfectly sized bites. He watched Cory swallow past the leather wrapped around his throat.

Wearing a collar even indoors, not being allowed to eat at a table. What kind of person would set these rules? The pet’s owner had seemed decisive, but not necessarily cruel. First impressions could be deceiving, though. Would Lydia impose similarly arbitrary and ridiculously strict rules on Col? And how would he take it?

Tag list part 1:

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[b0ther]

tags : drabble/one-shot idk. feminine pronouns, afab reader / royalty or kingdom au, inspired by kill the villainess, eating out, semi-public and clothed though they don’t have sex yet lol we’re gonna have to wait for part two, this was supposed to be short but i got carried away bye.

i’ve been reading a lot of reincarnation manhwas, and i can’t stop thinking about knight yuuta.

knight yuuta with tough, veiny, calloused hands, his fingers are long and pretty and knuckles are chipped with dried blood; a boy that spends his days practicing his swordsmanship against a dull dummy until the sun sets. knight yuuta who is then knighted by a duke’s daughter, whose lips are zipped with obvious intention to display her disinclination to be in the ceremony. knight yuuta who follows the lady home that night, three steps behind her at all times, and recognizes that the vicinity around her isn’t the one that he is welcomed in; knight yuuta who doesn’t speak of it or point it out either way.

“i don’t need a knight,” the lady then says one afternoon, eyes closed as she sips on her most favored flavor of tea under the bright sunlight. knight yuuta is sitting across her, eyes vigilantly watching her every move and ears perked up as if someone is going to ambush her in her own garden — he insisted that the lady enjoy her afternoon tea alone, you see, that he isn’t fit to be sitting on the same table as a lady. but she looked up at him with disinterest that struck his chest, questioning his loyalty to her. he immediately took the only empty seat on the round table.

the duke’s daughter, knight yuuta quickly learns, has a cute side to herself. she keeps him close to her, in the mansion and in the castle, even when she told him that she has no need of him to be around. she takes him to the market, and inside extravagant boutiques that he had never thought that he could enter. and though she has her own lady-in-waiting, she prefers discerning his opinion over hers. knight yuuta does not think of dresses often, and so he carelessly picks ones that he thinks would look best on his lady, and waits just outside the changing room.

but she drags him in, her touch delicate and unforgettable, it’s the first time he’s been touched by those soft hands — she smells of lemon cakes and roses; his lady closes the door and tells him to sit on a chair on the very back of the room. one servant argues — it would be improper for him to see you change, my lady — and she indifferently waves their reasoning away, “he is the only person in this room who has sworn his life to me, wouldn’t it be audacious of me to place my faith on all of you but not him?” as more complaints flows out of the servant’s mouth, his lady raises one hand to silence them and commands another to undo the laces of her dress. that day, knight yuuta learns of the boundaries the lady placed between them — he also learns that the lady has smooth, silky skin, and though his expression is unmoving as he watches her undress to her corset, both hands on his knees forms a fist.

neither knight yuuta nor his lady likes the crown prince very much. he came to learn that the person he is serving is second only to the crown prince, his lady’s inimical fiancé, and that she holds power and influent that most people would not be able to even imagine. knight yuuta knows his lady as one who is loved by all in the duke’s household — and how can one not? his lady, despite her frigid appearance, has the heart of gold that many claims to have, and he is convinced that no one in the kingdom is able to rival neither her elegance nor beauty. and so he wonders, day and night, how is her fate so ill that she is set to marry the wretched prince.

knight yuuta has not ever comment on the countless times his lady hides behind the palace pavilions, shielding herself from leering eyes as she continues to sob and wail quietly into her fragile palms. he has never seen her cry, at all times, he is on the lookout for people that are walking towards them — his gaze is enough to send them away — so that his lady’s dignity would not be tarnished any more than what that bastard prince has commit. he’d kill him, knight yuuta swears, if he isn’t the goddamned crown prince, he’d slit his throat wide open for making his lady cry.

why would anyone choose another woman than his lady? why would anyone openly flaunt their choice in picking arrogant and crude ladies to be their partner? doing so is one thing, but letting his lady catch them in the middle of coition is another. she is trying her best to fit in the mold of the perfect king’s wife, and the crown prince insists lazing around with no inch of grace in his body, even knight yuuta, who comes from a lowly origin, knows better than to exhibit infidelity even in a political driven engagement.

his lady asks him to accompany her to a nighttime tea one evening, and who is knight yuuta to refuse? the underlying sparks in her eyes isn’t present, her voice is low under flickering candlelight as she brings her cup to her lips. “you’re the only one i can trust, sir yuuta,” she says without precipitating movements, “you are my only friend.” that night, yuuta stabs his blade through the chest of a man who tried to bring a knife up to his lady’s face in her own garden. though his lady is unmoving, she lifts her gaze to the sky as the assassin breathes his last breath, “the crown prince has trivialized my knight.” as yuuta peers up at his lady, his eyes widen in overwhelming exalt — she looks magnificent.

trips to town has become a weekly occurrences for yuuta and his lady; her favorite hobby is to dress in regular clothings and prance down the marketplace, making him carry all her luggages. the downtown theater is her best loved place — a new short play every week is to be presented, with new songs and new tricks. his lady loves stories, and yuuta loves watching her eyes light up at every twist the play would offer. though that evening, his lady’s melancholic frown seeps pass her defenses, and he immediately recognizes the presence of the crown prince three rows under where they are sitting — in his arm is another lover yuuta does not recognize.

as his hand creeps to the hilt of his sword, his lady stood up. she is silent, as always, trying her best to not be the center of attention, as she makes her way out the exit. all thoughts of harming the crown prince escapes his mind — his lady is all that matters, after all. he follows her to the empty night streets, hand flying out to catch her wrist; yuuta disobeys his lady for the first time and did not let go even when she tries to pry him off. she refuses to look at him, and he understands, so he tugs her frail body towards his larger one, hand pressing her forehead against his chest.

“i don’t even love him,” as soon as he feels his lady’s sobbings, yuuta pulls them into an alleyway — he will not see her crying face, so no one else can do so. her fingers grip his tunic, tears sopping the material and yuuta can only rock them back and forth as a vain attempt in calming her down. “yuuta, i’m a-always doing my best, i-is that not enough?”

yuuta grits his teeth at the question — he’d kill the crown prince, he swears it. he pulls her from his chest, for the first time, he takes in the sight of her piteous face — her tear-stained cheeks are flushed, eyes swollen, and chest heaving. his heart clenches at the sight, and so, he closes his eyes and brings his large hand to cup her jaws, leaning down to catch her quivering lips with his.

at first, yuuta expects a harsh shove. he expects a slap on his face, or perhaps even a punch. he does not expect for his lady to be melting into the contact; all the tension on his shoulders fades away as he falls in deeper to the kiss, one hand wrapping around her small waist to hold her body closer to his. he can feel her hiccups as she raises her arms to snake around his neck, pulling him down towards her. yuuta knows that he should be careful when it comes to his delicate lady, that he should hold himself back as he is much stronger than she is; and he might have committed a sin when he thrusts her onto the wall.

he silently reprimands his excitement, and while he keeps each hand on her jaw and waist, his dark eyes peered down to his lady, waiting for her to rebuke his actions. but she does not comment on the cold wall or his daring decision — instead, she looks down to her feet, still trying to manage her hiccups, and quietly asks, “are you not going to kiss me again?”

splutters of apologies fly out his lips — he has kissed the crown prince’s fiancé, and while the fear of his own life is not present, yuuta fears for his lady’s. she turns away for a moment, her then erratic breath is now calm and slow, muttering something yuuta does not quite catch. she unhooks her arms from his neck, her soft touch traveling from his neck to the curves of his hard jaws. turning to look at him, shy and timid, his lady grips the base of the hand on her jaw with her smaller ones, tugging it off his face and placing it very carefully on the mound of her breast.

yuuta holds his breath.

the resilient lady keeps her eye contact — he doesn’t know how she does it — and presses her fingers on top of his, making him dig into the fabric and feel his digits drowning in the soft flesh underneath. yuuta does not say a word, he merely does what his lady tells him to do. “you can move,” her pliable voice whispers, and so he does. he takes the initiative to fondle her chest, stepping in closer as he admires how she fits perfectly in his wide palm. the fingers on his hand loosens; his lady takes one thumb to nibble between her teeth as yuuta continues to knead her mound, his breath hot against her face. he was so engrossed in her breast, that when his lady lets out a low sigh, he immediately pulls away.

at an instant, his eyes goes to her face — has he hurt her? he is greeted, however, by his lady’s flushed face (now for an entirely different reason) and her drool pooling on her thumb and on the corner of her pretty lips, threatening to spill out. has her lips always been this plump? yuuta feels his cock hardening against the restraining fabric of his pants as he thinks about how his kiss may be the one making her look so. . . amorous.

“sir yuuta,” his lady whimpers, and he almost flinched at how sultry the complaint sounds. she is so different from the lady he usually serves — so different from the usual bold and prideful woman that she is. yuuta raises his hand back to her chest and she lets out a sigh of relief; his lady looks so small as he towers her, so supple and pliant. is he allowed to do this? is he allowed to see her in such state?

she must have noticed his hesitation. her teeth let go of the thumb in her mouth and she slowly tugs the material of her long skirt to her chest. yuuta let go of her body completely and allows her to exhibit her smooth skin, the fat of her thighs making his head go dizzy even when he’s seen her change so many times. the reveal of her undergarments is slow, but yuuta doesn’t mind, not when his lady is revealing so much of herself to him — her laced underwear cups the shape of her pussy so well, that he almost convinces himself that it’s a sin to be staring for so long.

yuuta swallows the lump in his throat and squats before his lady, the case of his blade clashing against the ground. his face is just inches from her core, breath blowing against her warmth when his lady breaks his trance, “y-you can touch it. if you want.”

he may as well faints. yuuta looks up at his lady who’s intently staring back at him, tense from all that is happening. something tells him that she wants him to touch her, and so he raises one finger — just one, he tries not to be greedy — and presses that finger flat against the length of her slit.

“ngh—“

the responses are all so new for him. he keeps his eyes on his lady as her face rumples into an expression he has never seen her worn — it stirs something inside of him. he wants nothing more but to take his cock out and beat it to the expression she is showing him, but he doesn’t do it. instead, he waits for her cues while occasionally pressing harder on her mound.

“you—“ his lady takes his hand and directs him to a specific spot of her groin; yuuta can feel a bud nestling right there under her underwear, “—you can touch me there.”

yuuta follows her command, and he finds his heart drumming against his chest when his lady’s fingers immediately grips his hair. he places his free hand on her thigh — one he has been longing to hold — and continues pressing her down on the spot she had shown him while occasionally running his finger up and down her slit.

his eyes never leaves his beautiful lady’s face, only glancing to what is in front of him for a moment to see her undergarments getting darker in color when he feels his finger getting wet. yuuta swallows the lump of his throat again — she looks so ravishing, he must say, so inviting. it takes every fiber of his being to not do anything too rash, he wouldn’t want his lady to be uncomfortable around him, but he is only getting more and more close to her pulsating core. her little pants are music to his ears, her little moans of his name — and just his name. they both don’t know what to say in times like this, and yuuta feels content with his lady calling out to him with her velvety voice.

until, of course, something inside of him decides that it’s a good idea to press his lips against the fabric separating his finger and her folds. “yuuta—!” his lady squeals, fingers digging in his scalp as he continues to place flutters of little kisses on her drenched underwear, tasting the sweet slick of his beloved lady. she’s addicting.

yuuta shifts on his feet, angling his face so that he can kiss her better. he uses one finger to pull the fabric aside and let the cool night air breeze against her wet slit. his lady shivers, and he is sure that she is about to say something but his tongue races her, and takes one long lick in between her folds to let her juice run down his tongue. his lips settle on the bud he had felt earlier and slowly sucks on her glistening clit.

noises that his lady makes after he does that is different. though she was panting before, she didn’t do so in a way that is so. . . exhilarating. he is rock hard now, sucking on her throbbing clit, squelching sounds that fill him with delight entering his ears easily. she is so so wet, sopped in her own slick for him.

“y-yuuta—“

he loves her. he really do. yuuta does not lower the intensity of his sucking, and instead, only grips her hips to support her body against the wall once he feels her knees trembling from either side of his body. she’s muttering all sorts of things now, telling him how he feels so good, how his tongue is making her feel so hot.

“yuuta— i’m gonna, i—“

his sweet lady cannot finish her sentence — she is cut off by her own gushing, juice flowing to make a mess on his chin as he continues eating her out, tongue poking at the sensitive button between her folds. she’s trying so hard to keep her voice down, yuuta can tell, biting the back of her hand as she throws her head on the wall. her hips convulses so hard against his face, grinding down on him.

yuuta does not stop. he keeps on lapping up her cum, obsessed with the taste of her honeyed slick as he tugs on her clit softly with his lips, silently begging her to give him more.

“s’enough—“ his lady’s words fall on deaf ears, yuuta keeps slurping up her juice until she finally pushes his head away. “e-enough, sir yuuta!”

yuuta blinks up at her — drowning in the sight of her post orgasm: sweat drenching down her face and neck, chest heaving with massive draws of breath, her hair disheveled and messy (quite unfitting for a lady), and her face somewhat debauched. he made her look like that, a sense of burning pride flares up in his chest, he’s the only one to see his lady like that.

remnants of her juice dribbles down his chin on his throat, and yuuta unconsciously scoops it up with a finger to put in his mouth, indulging himself in another taste of her sweet slick. his lady sees this and looks away, muttering about how indecent he is being. he cannot help the small smirk slipping on his lips as he wipes his face free of her wetness. he stands up, not making a move though his eyes lingers on her chest — he stares longer, more than he usually would and wonders what would his lady’s tits look like under all these article of clothings, and would she ever let him suck on them.

she drops the skirt from her hand, crossing her arms under her chest — perhaps to tease him, or to coax him even further — as her cool expression returns to her face. she still looks embarrassed, face still flushed with her hair sticking firmly on her forehead with sweat, but yuuta does not point it out.

instead, he simply offers her his hand when she says, “take me back to the mansion.” he does not mention too, of course, the way she stumbles in her steps, slightly limping, as they walk back home.

[devildomimagines]

For shit’s and giggles, let’s have the Brothers react to a pregnant MC. She’s 5 months and showing so when they see her groaning in pain from landing badly from the portal, they notice her covering her stomach and she’s like “I could’ve hurt my baby, asshole!”. Let’s say the dad’s not in the picture but MC just wanted a kid and didn’t expect to deal with Overlords of hell while she’s gonna go through a rollercoaster of emotions and cravings. (I also wanna see em lose it when she goes into labor a couple months while they’re at one of Diavolo’s parties cuz I love chaos and just wanna see everyone but Barb panic)

Hi Anon! Thanks for your patience while I worked on this!

This was a little tough for me since I’ve never been pregnant 🤣 I hope this is some of what you were looking for!

Edit: I wrote some of this for the formerly Undateables, check it out here.

Belphegor

*Existential Crisis Ensues*

After the events of Chapter 16…. Oof.

He didn’t know but damn does that stoke his grief to be red hot and blistering once again.

When he recovers enough to pledge himself to caring for you, he builds the best nest to sleep in. 

You never have a restless night with him making sure there are enough pillows to support your stomach or under your back and blankets for whether you are hot or cold.

Going into labor: For once not sleepy. He is a demon on a mission. Once he gets you to where you need to be, he collapses for some rest and earns a bed next to yours.

Beelzebub

“Baby?” 

He was not aware, he innocently thought the weight was just because you were eating with him more.

He went to Lucifer first to get some guidance, he’s already starting to worry.

He’s very gentle with you from then on, offering a helping hand wherever you may be going. You’d have to remind him that you’re still sturdy enough to walk otherwise he would carry you everywhere.

The best at dealing with food cravings because he has them too! He even opens your eyes to weird food combinations that surprisingly work well.

Going into labor: Poor baby, and not the one coming out of you. He loses his appetite as you tell him what’s happening.

Asmodeus

“Baby!?”

He didn’t know but he’s excited!? A baby ‘you’ would be so cute!

He definitely knows all the tricks for moisturizing to minimize stretch marks, massages to relieve tension, and foot rubs for swollen feet.

Almost immediately starts buying baby clothes and planning baby photoshoots.

You do have to tell him a few times that what he’s doing is too much and you’re too tired. He respects that but he won’t stop trying.

Going into labor: I feel like Asmo would have a bullhorn ready to go yelling at people to get out of your way. It’s much more embarrassing but he’s doing his best.

Satan

You know the surprised face he makes with a hand on his chest, yeah that.

He has a vague idea about human pregnancy and labor, I can’t imagine it didn’t come up in any of his readings but he looks into it further now.

Surprisingly, he handles the mood swings the best, probably because he’s been through it with his anger. He gets it.

Satan is very thoughtful and considerate. Orders you decaf tea when you go out to his favorite coffee shop and offers to pay for any baby books if you express a need.

You absolutely change his world when you let him feel the baby kicking. That’s when it took a whole new meaning to him, this was life.

Going into labor: You probably told him your birth plan so he knows where to take you and what you need just from memory. 

Leviathan

Frozen in place until it finally registers, “What?”

Really awkward around you for the rest of the day.

Furiously does research that night, scouring the internet for as much as he can digest about humans’ pregnancy and babies. He finds some really obscure complications and issues and then he’s scared for you.

The next day he’s watching you nonstop. You ask him what’s wrong, he says nothing but continues staring.

With his Akuzon account, anything you could need he can get in less than a day, just say the word.

Going into labor: Probably running away, I’m sorry if you thought he was going to be helpful with that.

Mammon

“B-b-b-b-baby?”

Whether you two have been intimate or not, he’s still sweating and counting on his fingers to try to figure out if he’s somehow the father.

He goes to Lucifer, “Hey! Did ya know about this?” And just motions to the whole of MC.

He steals borrows a baby book from Satan and starts spouting random facts to prove he’s knowledgeable. “A woman’s uterus will expand about 500 times its original size during pregnancy.” Thanks, Mammon.

Was he attached to your hip before? Yes. Is he even more so now? Also yes.

Going into labor: Confused but he got the spirit. He definitely thought the baby was going to be born right there if you pushed it out so he’s yelling “Don’t push MC! Keep it in!”

Lucifer

The only one of the brothers that actually knew you were pregnant as it was in your file/application for the exchange program.

Still kind of offended you took that tone with him but may start to worry about you more.

He already has a soft spot for you so you could ask him for anything and he’d do or get whatever you need.

I think he would know the most about human pregnancy since he probably had to prepare in advance to present the idea to Diavolo.

If you want a special treat, definitely have him feel the kicking baby. The warmth and love on his face is 100% worth it.

Going into labor: Obviously, the most together to handle the situation but the flashes of worry and concern in his movements and reminds you that he’s not unmoved and even the Avatar of Pride can get flustered.

[sillyrabbit81]

Hi dear

I'm a big fan of your writing, especially the way you write Sy. Love it. If you are still taking prompts, I have one.

How would Henry and his characters react to having an Erectile dysfunction?

I think that topic is not being discussed enough.

🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for the ask Anon. I was having trouble with this ask so I discussed it with @henryobsessed and we worked on it together. To be fair, she did most of it! If you haven’t read any of her work I suggest you visit her blog and take a look at her Masterlist . She is a great friend and has a wonderful perspective and a unique style. I love her!

@henryobsessed here I have to interject and have my say too, I loved this request, it was so much fun finding creative ways to discuss a delicate subject. And for the record I may have done more characters but @sillyrabbit81 wrote more words per character HAHAHA. You are a wonderful Friend and Cavill sister you inspire and push me to be myself and I cannot be more grateful. That being said have fun reading guys 😊

Summary: Situations in which Henry and his characters suffer erectile dysfunctions

Word Count: approx 3k

Warnings: smut, masturbation (m), oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, p in v sex, bad medical advice, incorrect use of prescription medication, bodily fluids, period sex, drunk sex, Dom/sub relationship, descriptions of violence and death,

Masterlist

Erectile Dysfunction Headcanon

Henry Cavill

Henry had been filming for months and now he was headed home for a week’s break. You sat there waiting in the tinted people mover, as Henry was ushered to the car. Lights blinded you as the door opened, he climbed in, and smiling a weary grin, he pulled you into a big bear hug. He missed you so much.

That night, he fell into your arms in a passionate embrace. You had both craved each other, missing one another’s touch. As the night progressed, you noticed things were different. For the first forty minutes you were ecstatic, he had bought you to orgasm three times. Your body was super sensitive, but every time he seemed to be close himself, the phone would ring, indicating someone needed him. You had switched it off after an hour, having enough, and wanting his undivided attention.

Henry had managed to stay hard, but after an hour and a half, it was beginning to be painful for you, and he seemed no closer. Eventually, he flopped beside you, drained from the physical exertion.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s like I’m right there, but I can’t let go.”

You brought him into your arms, and caressing his back said, “Don’t worry love. It will be ok. Just give yourself a day, and maybe we can shut your phone off. I think the stress it is causing you might be a big part of the problem.”

He huffed at the thought. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe.” He sighed and soon you heard soft snores spilling from his lips.

Walter Marshall

It had been a long day, scratch that a long month. Walter had been working day and night to catch a serial killer. That night as he came home, he couldn’t forget the latest victim. What they had found had turned his stomach. In all the years he had been on the force, nothing could have prepared him for what they found that night.

Arriving home he collapsed on the bed, he was so physically exhausted, and for once sleep immediately consumed him. He woke nearly twelve hours later to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. He groaned; he had forgotten it was his two-year anniversary with you. Walking into the bathroom he washed his face, staring at the blood shot eyes reflected back at him.

“Come on man, get it together. You promised her,” Walter tried to fire himself up. It was no use, he was spent. Sighing, he walked into the kitchen wrapped his arms around you and breathed in the soft floral scent in your hair. For the first time in days, he felt a spark within himself, and although the horrific images still played on his mind, he felt a slight peace. He kissed your head, relieved, something could still reach him, something was still good. “Happy anniversary, love,” he growled.

After a wonderful breakfast, Walter sat on the couch with you and the two of you cuddled while watching a movie. His eyes kept sliding shut, his exhaustion made worse by his full belly. His fatigue became even more apparent when after reaching your hand beneath the blanket, you could not bring his flaccid muscle to attention.

Normally this situation would turn heated quickly, you had a way with your tongue that often had him begging for more. But Walter couldn’t get rid of the images in his mind, the battered and dismembered bodies, and the fact they were no closer to catching the killer weighed most heavily on his thoughts.

After half an hour of you trying to arouse him, Walter said in a resigned voice, “Sorry love, I don’t think I can.” With eyes that spoke of immense pain he looked at you and asked, “Could we please just cuddle? I think I need that more than anything right now.” In that moment he knew you were the one for him. He had expected huffing or crying because you thought you weren’t good enough or you asking him to please you. Instead, you had adjusted your position, so he was tucked into your body, holding him close while your hand stroked his curls.

A calm filled his soul as you whispered, “I am here for whatever you need my love. Rest now.”

Captain Syverson

You were just about to turn the light off and go to sleep when you heard the front door open with a crash and heard a rough curse. You grin, Sy was home and wasn’t sober. You knew what that meant, rough, wild, primal fucking. You quickly turn the light off and hide under the covers, well acquainted with the game, you knew how to play your part.

“Where are ya, woman?” Sy’s voice boomed at your bedroom door. “Don’t think you can hide from me. I’m hungry!”

You peek out from under the blanket, Sy had turned the light on again and was quickly undressing. You lick your lips, watching your big furry ox as he dropped his jeans, and his cock was revealed already on its way to being hard. Turning suddenly, he saw you, and you yelped covering your face again. “I see you woman, don’t play shy!” You giggle nervously, excited, your core already dampening with arousal.

Sy pulls the covers back and smirks as he sees you’re already naked waiting for him, “You’re a cheeky little thing ain’tcha?” You bite your lip, opening your legs slightly, inviting him in. Grabbing your ankles, he pulls you down the bed and gets on his knees. A low growl emanates from his throat before he dives between your legs feasting on you with an eagerness that brings you swiftly to your peak.

Licking at his lips and sucking on his glistening whiskers, he stands up pumping his cock getting it ready. Your brows pull together, puzzled, he’s always hard when he eats you out. You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s soon ready. Sy flips you onto your knees before he enters and begins his assault on your core.

Something is wrong though, you can feel him falling out of you. Did he cum already? Sy mumbles curses, pulling out and you turn around and see him fisting himself again as he slips his fingers inside you. In a few moments he is hard again, removing his fingers and replacing it with his cock. You sigh, relieved, as he builds his rhythm, and you hear him start to groan. But soon, it happens again, and try as he might he just can’t stay hard.

“Fuck,” Sy growls. You turn around and see the look on his face, a mix of frustration and embarrassment that melts your heart. “I think I drank too much Sugar,” he says, running his hand over his short hair. “Fuck. This hasn’t happened… Fuck!”

“Hey!” you say sharply to get his attention.

“What?” Sy replies just as sharply, but he doesn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, Baby,” you assure him. You see him jut his jaw and you reach up and cup his cheeks, making him look at you. “It’s ok. You’re just a little too drunk,” you smile and give him a soft kiss. “It happens.”

“Not to me it don’t.”

“It’s not forever,” you say. “Come on, let’s go to sleep. I’m sure it’ll be back normal in the morning.” You kiss him again and pull his head down to whisper in his ear, “maybe you could wake me up like you did last week.” You pull back and smirk raising your eyebrows.

Sy grins, still a little sheepish, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes again, “You’re a good thing, Sugar.” He kisses your forehead and says, “I love you.”

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt had never in his life had this happen before. The bar maid who had eagerly agreed to keep his bed warm on this cold winter’s night, gaped in confusion.

How could it be? She thought, All the myths about Witcher’s said they were virile and could last most of the night. She had been consumed with the thought ever since The White Wolf had arrived in the area and was quick to accept his offer to take her to his bed. She was bitterly disappointed and pouted at Geralt. Her sweet, plump lips alone should have been enough to make his cock stand, but tonight it lay unmoving, and useless.

That blasted sorcerer, it must have been him who had cast a curse on Geralt. It could be the only explanation for his inadequate showing. Looking at the poor wench beside him, Geralt pitied her. She had been most eager to satisfy his needs tonight, giving a valiant effort to arouse him. No matter, he had other ways to enjoy bringing her to the height of pleasure. Granted he didn’t normally concern himself with their needs as his own normally coincided with theirs. But tonight, his fingers, and tongue would be adequate until he broke the curse and returned to give her what she truly deserved.

Mike

The party had been epic, the drinks flowed, pot was smoked in abundance and Mike had managed to capture the attentions of a wonderful long legged blonde beauty. She helped him back to her apartment and his heart rate raised as she slowly stripped him, leaving him in all his naked glory. Laying on the bed he watched as she did a strip tease for him, her perky breasts bouncing as she jiggled her ample peach in his face.

But something was wrong, the situation was right, she was right but… he held his hand out to the two or was it three beauties before him. One took his hand as he guided her to sit in his lap. He caressed her as they kissed, his tongue violating her mouth with as much enthusiasm as his inebriated self could manage. Even with her grinding against him nothing happened.

“Shit” he swore.

The girl frowned and her lips seemed to move in twisted patterns which stilled again before she snickered. An evil cackle reverberated in her throat and her face twisted into that of a demented creature. “Can’t get it up, boy?” she taunted as she continued to laugh. She collected his clothes and managed to push him out of her bedroom and into the night. Standing in the cold with only his briefs covering his body, he stumbled as he began his walk of shame home.

August Walker

August Walker was hands down, far and away, the greatest lover you have ever had. He was the only man who had ever been able to keep up with you, your average session lasting for four hours. He was able to cum and get hard again faster than any guy you had ever been with too.

But being with August meant following The Rules. There were many Rules, rules which governed how you would dress when you saw him, how you were groomed, how you were to address him and when you could contact him. There were punishments too, but you had been a good girl, never broken any of his rules, so you never gave the punishments a thought.

One of the many Rules was absolutely no snooping. He said it was for your protection as much for his privacy. You didn’t know exactly how August made his money, but you assumed it had to be from some sort of illegal activity. So, you obeyed this rule as you did the others until one evening after a marathon session, you realised you got your period. You were shocked August hadn’t said anything, clearly he had continued to fuck you while you were bleeding. You started opening his bathroom cupboards searching for a tampon or pad or something, hoping you wouldn’t have to stuff your panties with toilet paper until you got home.

You opened the cupboard behind the mirror and were surprised to see a pill bottle with little blue tablets. You recognised them and after checking the label and confirming it you were speechless. August used Viagra? But, it didn’t seem possible that he would need it, his stamina was out of this world… unless…

“What do you think you are doing Petal?” August said from the doorway, a box of tampons and a towel was in his hands.

Quickly recovering your senses, you grabbed the box and towel out of his hands and kissed his cheek saying, “Looking for those. Thank you, August.”

Quicker than you thought possible you were bent over the counter, cheek pushed into the stone benchtop. “You found my pills,” August said coldly. Leaning his body over yours, his weight pushed down on you, holding you in place as he kicked your legs apart. You muffled a cry as you felt him hard again against your ass. “I don’t need them, for most women, Petal. But for particularly slutty, insatiable, cock hungry brats such as yourself, it’s a necessary assistance.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” you murmured, hoping he would take pity on you. Tears welled in your eyes as his finger pressed against your ass, forcing your tight muscles apart and you cried as he entered you. “I’m sorry, August.”

“My dear sweet, Pet,” August grunted as he violated you with a second finger. “If you aren’t sorry now, you will be.”

Napoleon Solo

Napoleon had been watching the siren from a distance all night. Her lithe body commanded all around to her attention. After she finished singing her call to the night goddess, he made his move. Two drinks in hand he set his sights and went in for the kill.

The two danced, drank and now were in her apartment, laid out on her bed he was happily pleasing her, mouth buried between her delicious thighs. His tongue flicked expertly over her button bringing her to climax, exciting his body, he climbed forward and for the first time that night claimed her lips. They kissed passionately until something changed, his mind grew foggy, and his cock deflated.

“Aww, is the great Casanova having trouble?” she laughed her sweet siren song changing to a bitter retort. His confused eyes tried to fix on hers as she began to distort, her last words filling his gut with fear. “Don’t worry love. I’ll take good care of you Napoleon Solo.”

Clark Kent

Clark was in college and his new friend Tommy was egging him on to take Crystal out for a date. He couldn’t understand why the cheerleader wanted to take him out. He wasn’t anything special as far as she knew, but she had been flirting with him all week.

Dinner was nice and Clark was surprised when Crystal suggested they return to her share house for dessert. Nervous as he was around her, he was pleased when after ice cream he had allowed her to talk him into a make out session in her room. They had only been in the room a few moments when he had felt strange. They had been kissing, it was enjoyable, but his stomach had begun to feel off and he felt unusually tired and weak.

The more they kissed the more frustrated he was to realise he wasn’t getting a rise out of his little friend. He noticed a pendant hanging on the wall near her bed, the green stone glowed eerily at him giving him a bad vibe. After a few more moments he politely excused himself, saying he must have eaten something off. Clarke murmured apologies and gave promises that he would call her and he left. Strangely, by the time he left her house he felt better, as if he had never felt ill at all. He was only a little upset that he had ruined his chances with Crystal, something about that pendant made him hope he would never see it again.

Charles Brandon

Charles sat in the apothecary rooms, wondering what he had gotten himself in for. The King had recommended him when Charles confided in his friend of his problem.

“So young man, why are you here?” the old man asked, his face kind but stern.

“Well, I’ve been having trouble, when I pee it burns and well, I can get an erection, but it deflates quickly and sometimes I cannot get one at all. I’m also having abdominal pain.”

The old man chuckled. After examining the affected area, he turned to his wall of potions. Pulling together some salves, and powdered herbs he turned to address the Charles. “Here, rub this on the affected area twice a day, and drink this tea three times a day.” The apothecary paused and said with a grin, “And finally, give the ladies from court a rest for a bit, you will regain your vigour again.”

Shame and chagrin filled Charles as he pulled his coverings back over his privates. Taking the medicines, he snuck out of the room trusting that no one saw him, and hoping against all hope, that this would work.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock sits back in satisfaction, marvelling at his new invention. Based on some literature he read from the America’s he perfected the design and made it fit himself perfectly.

Having commissioned the glass tube and rubber attachments, the contraption worked by winding a small handle, creating the necessary suction to create a vacuum, pooling enough blood into his cock to make it erect. By placing a rubber ring at the base of his shaft, he found he was able to maintain an erection for approximately thirty minutes. He could even bring himself to orgasm by his own hand.

It really was a delightful invention. Now, he just had to find that little vixen of a maid and see if it worked with her too. Perhaps he should try and use her mouth first.

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

[bokutoslittlebird]

Your Place

Akaashi x sister!reader

Author’s Note : This was originally gonna just be a short drabble but like.. I’ve thought of this before. So I changed it into a full fledged fic; Fukurōdani has a girls’ volleyball club ; Love hotels in Japan are pretty popular, especially in Tokyo, and happen to have kiosks to keep up the anonymity, while also offering options of staying overnight or for a few hours (generally 2-4). The rooms offer lots of options, including room service (including food and toys), such as jacuzzi, showers, massage chairs, King-sized bed, as well as a box of free condoms ; okay I don’t know if a butt plug can actually plug up a vagina and if it is even safe (it should be) so don’t take my words as fact! Please!

Warnings : Incest, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting, naïve and innocent reader, manipulation, alcohol, underaged drinking [legal age in Japan is 20], love hotels, Keiji wants lil sis to be his housewife, mating press, pussyjob, orgasm denial, overstimulation, sex toys [butt/anal plug, egg vibrator, hitachi wand vibrator], lots of Nii-sans used, breeding kink, no actual pregnancy (yet), fingering (f. receiving)

The roars of the crowd enters your ears as the ball bounces against the floor of the large stadium, the opposing players diving to receive the ball only to fail. Your team screams and cheers, everyone running to envelope the ace of your team, Akari, as she hugs everyone back. Screaming hurts your ears, yet you’re still doing it. Adrenaline rushes through you as the announcer claims your team with the victory and the announcement that you’ll be moving onto the next round, the finals of Nationals.

Your team lines up, shaking hands with the opposing team as congrats is shared between members. Once that is done, you all face the seats on both sides, bowing and thanking them for cheering you all on. When your eyes look into the stadium seats, they immediately catch the lidded eyes of Keiji, his hands clasped together as he smiles. The simple motion has your chest puffing with pride, tears sliding down your cheeks as you know you made him proud. With your position on the team, he’s the one who trained you to be the best setter the Fukurōdani girls’ volleyball club has ever had these last three years.

Once the moment is over, everyone is back at the hotel room and either on their laptops, phones, television, or asleep. When you exit the bathroom, your hair has been brushed and styled with a nice dress, accompanying the leggings and boots Keiji gifted you to wear. Akari whistles, her arm over your shoulder as she talks to you.

“Who you lookin’ so good for?” She pries, eyes tracing the lip gloss you put on.

“My brother. He requested me to wear something nice. He’s taking me to dinner,” a bit of heat is in your voice as you say that. Keiji’s always pampering you, he loves seeing you dolled up. It’s been like that since you were playing dress-up when he was 10 and you were 5. Akari’s gaze takes on a confused look, pursed lips as she processes your words.

“He’s always taking you somewhere nice after a good game, it feels like. Why don’t you ever invite us?” She finally says. Your head snaps up, looking in the mirror at yourself compared to Akari who is also looking at your face and outfit. It wasn’t glamorous in your eyes, but it suddenly dawns on you that it’s more than a brother should expect. The twist in your gut is ignored, your head shaking as you clear your head.

“He doesn’t know any of you guys. Plus, he’s an alumni. He’s always at our games,” your response isn’t what she was expecting, you’re sure of it. But the truth is, you don’t know why Keiji takes you out to nice restaurants or just on nice walks after games. It’s the few times he has off, always requesting off to be with you, cheering you on, his full support as your brother. Occasionally, he even brings along Bokuto, his best friend, who always congratulates you and asks to have you visit his own team someday. It’s a request that you always turn down, Keiji’s eyes taking on a dark glint that sends shivers down your spine at just the mere memory of them.

Akari leaves you alone after that, your time to get ready slowly coming to an end as your phone rings. It’s Keiji, of course, asking if you’re ready yet. “Almost, nii-san! I just need to get my coat and then I’ll head down.”

He’s at the lobby of the hotel, lounging in a chair as he swipes on his phone. He’s dressed as nicely as you are, black slacks with a nice white dress shirt, all under a large coat to keep out the cold. You bounce up to him, excited for the dinner. “You look beautiful, [Y/N],”

“Thank you! You know me so well, so it’s really all your doing,” you giggle, linking your hand in his offered elbow. It felt so right, being beside as you had been these past few years. Walking towards the restaurant, you didn’t even feel the ache in your ankles and balls of your feet from the heels nor the unmistakeable tension between the two of you. It just felt familiar and right to be in this position, sitting across from Keiji as he lets you gush about all the stuff going through your head during the match or even when you happened to be getting ready for the dinner. A shadow seems to settle over his face as you refer to it as such, just a dinner. You almost referred to it as a date, but quickly corrected yourself.

Tension hangs between you two, you having to force it away by breaking the silence Keiji brings. He’s usually much more talkative, praising you as he talks about what you did right and correcting you on things you did wrong, but never criticizing you too hard. Dinner ends, with Keiji paying the full bill without ever letting you know, saying that he simply cannot let a woman pay, regardless of situation. The champagne and wine he let you have a taste of lingers in your mouth, a burn in your throat from the bitter taste of alcohol. It’s not enough to get you drunk, but you do find yourself clinging to Keiji tighter, feet unstable and legs unreliable as he brings you back to the hotel.

He stops and even in your bubbly and hazy state, you can tell the hotel isn’t the same. “Come on, you need to rest,” he says, lips next to you ear as he ushers you inside. Upon entering the room, the lobby, you know it’s not the same. You panic, the alcohol making you less restrained in your actions as you go to tug on Keiji’s arm.

“Nii—”

“Ah, ah, Keiji, dear. Until we get back to your room,”

His usage of ‘your room’ has your nerves calming down, even as he uses his card to pay the kiosk and tap on the screen, buying something. A metal jingle comes from the bottom of the electronic, Keiji picking up the key to a room. Urging you along, you follow him to the elevator. The lack of people seems to enter your mind, confusing you as you glance around the spotlessly clean black elevator. A small voice enters your mind, telling you that the hotel’s elevators are supposed to be silver, shimmering in the light that shines down.

Keiji has to practically drag you into a room, the door shutting and clicking behind you as it locks. The room is spacious, a large tub in the corner of the room as the king-sized bed offers comfort and relaxation. Yet, you falter— unmoving, your voice seems to barely get out as you question your brother. “Where... where are we?”

“My room for the night, dear. You’re drunk, you need to rest,” his comforting words have you slowly shuffling towards the bed. The chair beside the bed seems too fancy for something in a normal hotel room, more adrenaline entering your veins as you panic from unfamiliarity.

“Nii-san, I don’t like this. Take me back to my room. Akari and Hana and-”

“Shut up, you little slut,” the venom in his words has you squeaking, your much smaller frame easily being pinned to the bed by Keiji’s much broader frame. “I’ve been generous this entire evening and all you’ve blabbered about is your team and your friends. What about me, huh? You haven’t even asked how I was doing the entire date,”

“Nii-san, stop!”

“Do I not hold the most importance in your life anymore? You used to be all over me, my sweet little sister that absolutely enjoyed being around me. Now you’re prancing around as if you have not a care in the world. That boy from the boys’ volleyball club seemed awfully close for comfort, don’t you think?”

“He-,” you once more falter, the brief images from after the game when the captain of the boys’ team congratulated all of you on the win. He wasn’t close to you, you were sure of it, but why would Keiji have been there? “He’s barely a friend, nii-san,”

“Not only that, but you always have that giggle and tendency to twirl your hair as you talk to Bokuto-san, your body moving closer to him as he would walk beside you. You barely acknowledge my existence anymore. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry,” the tears spill down your cheeks, a hiccup as he continues to say mean things. “I’m sorry,”

“You’ll be graduating soon and then you’re going to live with me. You’re going to live with me and be my little housewife. I’m going to make you completely mine, inside and out,” his breath is hot as it fans over your face, his grip strong as he continues to squeeze and hold your face. You’re unable to do anything, the fear from his words and actions has you frozen beneath him. As his words settle in, ice crawls through your veins as you realize your gut feeling, the tension between you two, everything you ignored for the past hour and a half had a reason for being there. His entire plan was to bring you here, but you’re unable to do much of anything against him — he’s always been stronger than you. When you were young, it was comforting, his arms holding you after a nightmare or even when your first friend moved to America, but now it just served to bring more tears to you eyes, your body forced to let him do what he wants to you.

Keiji’s quick to undress you, your coat being shed as he pushes your fancy dress up, the leggings, shoes, and panties being pulled off and left to fall on the floor. Tears continue to fall, chest heaving as you’re powerless to do anything. Even if you could find the energy to move and attempt get him off of you, it wouldn’t bring anything to fruition. “You’re so dry, are you not enjoying this?”

“No, nii-san. I’m not,” you’re honest with him, yet he doesn’t stop. Sitting back on his heels, he lets his eyes trail over your form. Before a thought can enter your mind to move, he’s pushing his weight on top of you as he grabs something the table beside him, a long metal rod emerging from the miniature dresser. He keeps you pinned, moving the rubber head down to your clit, pressing a button as it begins to vibrate. “Ah! Nii-san,” your muddled voice comes out, the sensation sending an unfamiliar tingling up your spine.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel even better. All you gotta do is relax, pretty girl,”

“I’m- I’m still- y-your—” your words die on your tongue, your gut twisting into a knot as the sensation turns pleasurable. You’ve never touched yourself, always being told by Keiji that only bad girls touched themselves, that whores and sluts did. Keiji-nii doesn’t like those kinds of girls, so you never dared to go against his wishes.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll always be my pretty girl, even if I have to remind you exactly where you belong. I’ll remind you of your place,” his words stop there, but in your head his words continue. Silently, the words of ‘if you’ll let me’ enter, an unspoken question that asks for your consent. Yet, you don’t give him anything else. Your moans and mewls are all he gets, a hand grasping at the unbuttoned dress shirt still on him. A small smile paints along his lips, your vision going black as you roll your eyes. Before the knot can release, the vibrations are removed from your clit and you whine, aftershocks coursing through you.

Keiji’s voice is barely a whisper, under his breath, “I’ll give you something much better, don’t worry.” The vibrator is forgotten and discarded, his hands fumbling with his slacks as he pulls them down, along with the dark grey underwear. His cock springs free, hard and thick and long, you unconsciously scoot away as he strokes himself. “Don’t move away,”

“But it’s scary, nii-san,” you whimper, arms close to your chest as your head bumps against the headboard. He doesn’t say anything, using his hand to rub his cock’s tip against your folds. Contrary to earlier, you’re dripping wet as the wet smacks of his appendage against your skin has you clenching around nothing, more juices dripping out. Moving his hips back and forth, he adds another sensation on your clit as he thrusts in between your folds. His tip catches onto the hood of your folds, brushing against the overly sensitive nerves as you whine and mewl at each move he makes.

“You’re so nice and slick for me, it won’t hurt. It just seems scary, look,” he forces you to do just that, hand gripping your hair as he forces you to look at his cock. The underside of it is glistening with your slick, absolutely dripping with you as it slides down to his base and over his balls. “It’s just in your mind, it won’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

“But nii-san, I don’t want this,” it’s not what he wants to hear, you’re sure of it. Yet he says nothing. A sigh finally breaks the silent tension as he rubs his finger against your cunt, two fingers slipping in until they can’t anymore. You’re tight, you know you are, clenching around only two of his fingers.

“If you didn’t want this, you would still be dry. You wouldn’t be squeezing my fingers so snugly. This is your body saying it wants this, don’t you remember what I said?”

Of course you don’t, he says a lot to you, so you shake your head. Another sigh.

“You need to listen to your body. It knows you better than you know yourself. I know you better than you do, you know,” his words ring true, his fingers continuing to pump themselves into you as he talks. Eventually, the feeling is no longer unfamiliar, the sensation pleasing as you moan. He smiles at that, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead as his fingers retract themselves. Using the slick on them, he rubs them against his cock to use as lube.

Pushing his tip into you is scary, but it’s not painful. As he sinks further into you, it becomes much more painful. The room must be soundproof, since Keiji keeps pushing in without trying to make you stop your screaming. He does, however, lean down to press his lips to your tear-stained cheeks as you squeeze him. He groans, his hips rutting against you. “You’re fine, stop screaming. Stop being so pathetic,”

His harsh words have your screams silencing, tears and sniffles as your walls flutter around him. It still hurts, it burns, it stings, it’s more painful than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. Before you can manage to get adjusted, Keiji is pushing your legs up to your chest, somehow making himself feel deeper than he actually is. The feeling of being crushed is back once more, his hips rearing back only to come back down against your skin. The scream from your throat is more of a moan, nails digging into the back of Keiji’s neck and teasing the small hairs as he pistons his cock into your cunt.

It’s a tight fit, the way you’re sucking him in and squeezing him with every thrust. Keiji’s balls slap against your slick ass, cunt squelching with each pump of his cock into you as more juices are forced out. His own moans and grunts of pleasure are drowning in the wave of mewls, squeals, and moans spilling from your lips. The feeling from before is back, the knot in your tummy as he rubs his cock against the inside of your walls and instead of being denied once more, the knot finally snaps as you cream all around his cock, accompanying a squeal of his name.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me know how good you feel,” he chuckles, picking up his pace as you continue to suck him in. A garbled call of ‘nii-san!’ leaves your lips, the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against you and his thick cock against your fluttering walls has you creaming around him once more. A sound akin to a growl comes from his throat, leaning even further forwards as he gets himself as deep as he can go, the hair at the base of his cock rutting against your sensitive clit. “I’m going to fill you with my seed and you’re going to have my babies, okay?”

“No, nii-san, I don’t want that!” You cries are ignored, your body continuing to clamp around his cock as he shoots his load into you. The feeling of being full and so warm inside has your eyes rolling, drool spilling from your open mouth as you gush around him, clear liquid splashing against his abdomen.

Once the high has passed, he removes his cock from you, keeping you in that position. You don’t dare speak, unsure you’ll be able to as your throat burns from all the screaming and cries. A metal object briefly enters your vision, the object being inserted into your pussy that drips with your brother’s seed, milky white and thick.

“If you keep it all inside, I’ll give you another treat, okay? You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, but he does take out another object. “You need to keep having an orgasm, I’ll make sure you feel real good, okay?” A medium-sized egg-shaped object enters your ass, another stinging pain from the insertion. Another round of vibrations start, your legs shaking as you mewl, head thrown back as you feel another orgasm quickly coming on. “You’ll be a good little housewife for me, won’t you? Swollen with my child and your pussy will be all for me, you know this, don’t you?”

Of course you do, regardless whether your mind agrees with you or not. He’s your nii-san and he knows best.

[aredheadedmess]

Pied Piper || JJK [3]

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, an investigative journalist for the Daily Bullet, usually doesn’t see much out of the ordinary; A missing person’s case gone cold, an old case reopened and solved with updated technology, the thrilling excitement when another puzzle of one of the biggest serial killers is cracked. But when an old file resurfaces, she brings back a past that should have been burned with the file a long time ago.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Warnings: A few swears, mention of broken wood and glass, the host still being a butt, a super creepy forest, please let me know if I missed anything!

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Mystery/Thriller, Paranormal, Strangers to Friends

Chapter Rating: Pg-13

A/N: Sorry this is late! I was hoping that I would get this out on time, but the past two weeks have been kinda crazy. BUT it’s here now so I hope y’all enjoy! This is kind of borderline a filler chapter, but it still has some... interesting things...

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

My research, before I decided to take it upon myself and actually visit the town, was futile. Everything that I had in the file all led to dead ends. My time spent in the company’s evidence locker only left me believing that there was no such place as Blackgate. Even Yoongi had said that it was a legend.

With what little information I had on the town, I decided to pack up a few bags and look for it myself. My friends thought I was crazy, looking for a town that probably didn’t exist any more, but I was stubborn. I knew that I could find something, anything, as long as I looked hard enough. Old map in hand, and only the general direction people had noted it was located, I took off first thing in the morning on an oddly cold day in late August.

I should have known then and there that what I was going to get into could have been much more dangerous. With my attempts at using technology to find the place constantly failing, and the way the woman—who stopped to see if I was alright when I decided to pull over and look at the physical map I keep in my car—looked at me as if she had seen a ghost, I should have turned around. Given up on the case. But as I have stated before; I’m stubborn. There was no way that I was going to give up after a few minor inconveniences. So I took the woman’s hesitant directions and found myself stumbling upon the town only a couple hours away from the Big City.

31 August, 20XX

“That’s not… Oh come on!”

You tear the crinkled page from the typewriter’s hold. Wadding it up, you toss it to the ground with the rest of the discarded paper. Maybe you should have asked for a pen instead. It would have taken you less time to scribble out mistakes than trying to deal with the sticky keys of the typewriter.

“This is going nowhere,” you sigh.

You lean back in the chair and throw your hands up to rub at your face. It’s only been three days, and every plan you had for your investigation is thrown out the window. With none of your devices working, how are you supposed to close these cases? There’s only so much you can do without being able to look up more information on the town on the internet. And with the bipolar weather the town is having, you don’t have much of a choice but to stay inside the Bed and Breakfast for the majority of the time.

The clock on the desk ticks away as you sit there, unmoving. It fills the silent room with the monotonous noise. It’s just after 8pm, and you still have nothing to show for your research. Many of the pages of the books you brought with you are stuck together as they sit on the desk beside the typewriter. After all of both your and the man’s effort to save the books, they still weren’t able to dry completely.

Thud.

The door to the room shakes in its frame. Your head snaps to the direction of the sound, brows furrowing as you begin to hear a muffled string of curses. What is he doing? For the last two nights, once dinner is cleaned up, the host is quietly off to do his own thing. You don’t hear a word from him again until the next morning when you’re somewhat rudely awakened for breakfast. Though you haven’t stayed here long, it’s odd to hear him move around at this time of night. The desk chair squeaks slightly as you lean forward to lift yourself off the seat. You’re surprised it’s still standing with how old and fragile it looks.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with the man picking up the last piece of a broken picture frame from the floor beside your door. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he moves to toss the splintered wood and glass into the trash bin in the kitchen. He returns back into the hallway, walking towards the front door as if he is running late to something. You follow, watching as he reaches for the closet door knob, twisting it open, and reaching inside for a jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he throws his jacket over his shoulders. Once the fabric is situated on his body, he turns to open the front door.

“But I thought-”

“Lock the door after I leave.”

The door slams shut before you have a chance to catch it. Your hand reaches out to touch the lock, but you don’t make any effort to twist it. Where is he going? Especially at this time of night? You keep your hand hovering over the lock. Should you follow after him? Though, maybe you shouldn’t pry into his private life. You wouldn’t want him to do that to you. But with how late it’s getting---and with his strict rule of an 8:30 curfew---you can’t help but grow more curious as to where he’s off to. You drop your hand, running back into your room to grab your jacket. Who knows what the weather will decide to do tonight.

The sun has already set, leaving the town in utter darkness. Only a small handful of houses have their porch lights turned on. The dark sky makes it much easier for you to hide in the shadows as you follow the host into the middle of town. Though, it doesn’t make your surroundings any more inviting. Your eyes catch the sight of the playground again. If you look carefully enough, you swear you can see a small figure sitting at the top of the tallest slide. I’m seeing things. It’s just my imagination, you hope.

Shaking your head to rid your mind of the creeping thoughts, you return your gaze to focus on the man ahead of you. You’re lucky to have looked back at him as he stops to open the door to a shop a little farther. As quietly as possible, you run to catch up to shop before the door can fully close, letting you sneak inside before he can notice your presence. You keep yourself low, throwing yourself behind the first shelf you can see. You can’t see much except for the view of his backside approaching the front counter as another figure steps out from a back room.

“Jungkook! It’s nice to see your face again!”

A bright older woman greets the host as he enters the shop. You can hear him muttering under his breath, but it isn’t loud enough for you to catch what he says. He quickly steps closer towards the counter, leaning in a little closer to the woman.

“Keep it down,” he whispers harshly, his head twisting towards the entrance before focusing back on her. “You know I don’t like using my name around here anymore.”

“Oh, right. After what happened to-”

She stops. Clearing her throat, she shifts under his strong gaze. Letting a soft smile fall onto her lips, she tilts her head in curiosity.

“Sorry. What brings you here? I thought you weren’t due for more until next month?”

“Something unexpected happened,” he, Jungkook, hesitantly tells the woman.

“Well, no matter. Go ahead and get what you need.”

The shopkeeper waves him away, letting him free to find what he came for. You barely manage to pull yourself back behind the shelf when he turns to amble into the rest of the shop. You can hear his footsteps as he walks to an area on the opposite side of the room. As carefully as possible, you make your way to the other end of the shelf in hopes that you can spot what Jungkook is looking for. Though you don’t anticipate your movements entirely as the sole of your shoe comes in rough contact with the hardwood floor, scuffing the ground loudly. You quickly stop, closing your eyes and pressing your lips together.

“Shit.”

It’s silent for a moment, seemingly more than it was only a few seconds before. You wait, hoping that neither one of the other people in the building heard you. That hope is cut short when someone clears their throat behind you. You slowly turn around, meeting eyes with the host. 

“Outside.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to follow him as he steps out of the shop. Like a child getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, you hang your head low to keep yourself from making eye contact with the shopkeeper. You push the door closed behind you once you make it outside.

“I thought I told you to stay.”

Skipping the warnings, he spits poison at you. It takes you aback at the sudden interrogation. Your eyebrows press close, a frown developing across your face. No longer feeling like a child being scolded by their parents, you step towards him, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Do you want to die?” he retorts.

You tilt your head in confusion.

“What does that even have to do with anything?”

He doesn’t answer you. Instead, his eyes shift from their gaze on you to somewhere off to the side. His face is still stern, but the way his fingers begin to twitch at his sides gives his uneasiness away.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” You poke at the silent air between the two of you. “Nothing’s adding up.”

Jungkook scoffs.

“There’s no way I’m going to talk to an immature reporter like you. Go back to your research if you’re so interested.”

He walks around you to enter the shop again. You turn to face him, stepping forward to do the same. He must have seen your reflection in the glass on the door as he whips back around before he can get a grip on the handle.

“Stop following me.”

“Why should I?” you challenge. “I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing aren’t I? I’m following you to get more information. Research.”

“You won’t get anything from me. Go back. And don’t look back.”

Without another word, he turns back to the door, closing it behind him. You can hear the clack of the lock as you reach for the handle yourself. You click your tongue.

“Asshole.”

Sighing, you turn back to face the direction you came in. This Jungkook guy is confusing.

“The hell?”

You whip your head around every which way. How did you get to the forest? Weren’t you headed towards the Bed and Breakfast? Just a few minutes ago, you left the shop to trudge back to the house. So how is it that you somehow turned yourself around and ended up on the other side of town? There isn’t much you remember. You vaguely recall passing by the creepy park again, but everything after that is a blur. 

Groaning, you bring your gaze back to the tree line a couple feet ahead of you. If he didn’t kill you at the shop, Jungkook will definitely kill you now for not taking his warnings to heart. Though, you’re not sure why you are following what he’s told you. You’re a grown adult. You shouldn’t let him walk all over you. Yet, maybe you can see where he’s coming from. Seeing the forest at night is much worse than in the daylight. And even during the day, you have yet to step close to the area, the fear of the worst possible outcomes bubbling up in your throat from the mere sight of it.

The longer you stare into the forest, the more you begin to see shapes dancing through the trees. You can’t look away. The shapes entice you, pulling at you, making you want to step closer to see what the commotion is about. You have to will yourself to stay put as your legs ache with the need to venture between the trees. Your eyes follow as the shapes become smaller, dancing further into the forest. If you listen close enough, you swear you can make out the sound of laughter echoing from inside. You blink. Suddenly the ache in your legs is gone. You blink again. The shapes are nowhere to be seen. Were they a figment of my imagination? They had to have been, you realize. It has to be the effects of your terrible sleep the past few nights along with the fact that the cloud-covered moon is high in the sky at this point. The darkness of the night only brings trouble for your eyesight.

Taking a step back, you decide it’s time to head back. Surely the host is back at the Bed and Breakfast already, waiting for you like a parent trying to catch their child sneaking back into the house. You turn around once you deem yourself a safe distance away from the tree line. The town in front of you is just as dark and unsettling as the forest. Without the nightlife that you see in the big city, the town looks completely deserted. Almost as if there is no one occupying the houses in the surrounding area.

You don’t know what entices you, but you twist your head to look back at the shrinking forest as you walk. Eyes wide, you falter in your stride. A figure in the shape of a human stands at the edge of the tree line. Who is that? You bring your hands up to your face, rubbing at your eyes. Whoever was there is gone now, leaving you to believe that it’s just the dim moonlight tricking your brain. You rub at your eyes once more, blinking a few times, before hesitantly turning back to return to the Bed and Breakfast.

Taglist: @jjin-kun @rosiereveries @joyfulhopelox @bangtanhome @swanguk​ @stanny-uwu​

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[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 5

masterlist

hello my darlings! It’s a little short of a chapter, but I was just to excited for this confrontation. enjoy!--- chaotic puff

Namjoon would have been stupid not to notice the icy demenor that Y/N regarded him with as they sat down to lunch in the garden. She’d been reserved before, cold even, but she was positively frigid now. 

“Is everything alright, Jagi.” he set down his utensils and reached across the table to take her hand, but she moved it away glaring at him. 

“I’m fine.” she flashed him a smile that never failed to make him nervous. It was thick with false sweetness that warned him of the storm brewing beneath the saccharine expression. “It’s only that I learned some very interesting things today, and it’s left me wondering why you bothered to look for me at all.” 

Namjoon stiffened in his seat, his gaze sharp and guarded as he regarded her. He knew that whatever she had up her sleeve was going to be deeply unpleasant for him. “What do you mean, jagi.” he asked carefully. 

“You apparently kept very busy while I was away.” she scoffed pushing around her food. The sight of fish made her stomach turn, but both Namjoon and Miss In had insisted that omega three was good for the baby. 

“You kept me on my toes looking for you.” he kept his tone neutral, waiting to see what she would say, but he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“You and I both know that’s not what I meant.” she scoffed, setting down her own utensils. “So much for being the only woman for you.” 

If it was possible, Namjoon became even more tense. The fact that Y/N looked like the cat that ate the canary wasn’t helping anything either. They both knew that she had all the leverage in this argument. It was his own fault anyway, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that Sen had told her. The woman had no love for him, and more than one reason to sympathize with his wife. 

“Y/N.” he sighed, taking a deep breath in preparation for what was to come. “I don’t know what you were told…”

“I think you know exactly what I was told.” 

“Y/N, jagi.” 

“Clearly you have women waiting in the wings for you. Why ruin my life?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, a hand resting against her belly as she glared at him, jaw set stubbornly in a look that made her look more imperious than normal. Namjoon would have been lying if he said he didn’t find it to be a very attractive look. 

“I love you.” 

“Do you?” she asked, quirking a brow. “I don’t think married men typically sleep with other women, prostitutes in fact, when they’re in love, but I could be wrong.” 

“Jagi.” 

“You could have easily found another woman. Why ruin my life?” she asked again, her gaze intent. 

“Jagiya,” he sighed hoping to defuse this before it got any worse and already planning the chat he was going to have with Yoongi about what was appropriate information for Sen and Y/N to pass back and forth. “How could I live without you, without our child?” She was unmoved. “You were gone, jagiya.” he huffed, giving up on sweet pleas. They wouldn’t work on her anyway. “You betrayed me. I was frustrated, hurt, alone. What did you expect me to do?” 

“I expect you to leave me alone.” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe even let me go. You can always have a bastard with someone else.” 

“Don’t.” he growled, tone low and angry. “Don’t you dare talk about our child like that.” 

“My child.” she growled back. “Who says you have anything to do with it?” 

He barked out a laugh at that. “Do you expect me to believe that that child isn’t mine?” he asked, gesturing towards her belly. “We both know that you’re too far along for that to be anyone else’s child, and we both know I would kill anyone who dared to touch you like that.” 

“But you can touch someone else like that?” she mused, keeping her tone purposefully neutral. “That’s very hypocritical of you, but what else should I expect from someone like you, a kidnapper, a rapist.” 

She watched with a deep sense of satisfaction as Namjoon reeled back from her words as though she had physically struck him. The truth hurts. 

“Jagiya..” 

“What else could you possibly call it?” 

“Jagi…”

“Go back to your whores, Namjoon. I have no use for you.” 

She stood up from her seat, throwing her napkin down on the table as she went. Her belly made her dramatic exit slower than she would have liked, but that was the least of her problems when she felt Namjoon’s arms circle around her, trapping her in his embrace. 

“No.” He growled into her hair, his arms tightening even more as she tried to wiggle away from him. “You don’t get to walk away from me, not again.” 

“Let go.” she hissed trying to land a decent kick to his shin, but Namjoon was having none of it. 

“You don’t get to criticize me after you left me, after you took my child from me.” he hissed, voice becoming deeper and more venomous as he went. She’d certainly managed to strike a nerve. 

She turned in his arms so she could face him, though his grip tightened around her again as soon as she was staring up into his eyes. “You don’t get to criticize me for protecting myself. I loathe you with every fiber of my being.”

“You can loathe me all you want, my love, but you are never leaving me again for as long as we both shall live. Even in death, you will still be mine.” 

“I’m glad you’re willing to accept my loathing. It’s the only thing you’ll ever get from me.” she spat. 

“One day, you’ll be begging for me, jagi.” he promised, eyes glimmering with dark intent. 

“Keep dreaming.” 

“I have all the time in the world, jagi.” 

“I’m not one of your lackeys, Kim Namjoon. You don’t own me.” 

“My name on your shoulder would say otherwise.” It was a low blow on his part, but she had her own tricks up her sleeve.

She grinned up at him,  her eyes glimmering with their own sort of dark mirth. “Didn’t you know? It’s not there anymore.” She took particular glee in watching the confusion brush over Namjoon’s features. “It was one of the first things I did when I was free of you.” 

“You’ll never be free of me.” 

“I did a pretty good job for the past eight months, and you got along without me quite well.” 

“Jagi…”

She cut him off before he could continue. “I don’t care what you do. You can have anyone else, as many someone elses as you want, just leave me out of it.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” 

“Your actions would say otherwise.” she scoffed. “I don’t particularly care, but I think we can both agree that there’s no need for me to remain in your bed.” 

A slow smirk spread across his features as a new deeply delicious thought crossed his mind. “Jealous, jagiya?” 

Her eyes widened in disbelieving shock and fury. “As if.” 

“I think you are.” he laughed, loosening his grip around her so that he could gently brush his thumb across her lips. “Don’t worry, jagi. You’re the only woman in my life.” 

“You can have as many women as you want as long as you leave me alone.” she hissed, batting his hand away. 

“Why would I want anyone else when I have you?” he cooed, that stupid smile still on his face. 

“Please, take anyone else. I’d throw them a damn parade.” she growled pushing herself out of his arms. 

“I’ll have no one else.” 

“It’s a little late for that.” she spat, glaring at him.

“Sit down, jagi. You need to eat.” He laughed, all traces of bad humor gone from his features. “If you’re a good girl for me, I might just have a surprise for you tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want you surprises. They’re never any good for me.” she scoffed, but Namjoon was undeterred, steering her back to the table. 

“You’ll like this one.” He promised. 

“I doubt that.” 

“Eat.” 

She could grouse all she wanted, but Namjoon was on cloud nine knowing she was jealous. It wasn’t much in actuality, but it felt like the world to him. He’d have her love, even if it killed him. 

part 6