#“count for me” I LITERALLY LET OUT A SOB OKAY

[ikigaisvt]

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so... how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

pairing; lee seokmin x gn!reader.  (he calls reader pretty once but that is all<3) content; fluff / some mild angst towards the middle / pining / friends to… still friends but with some ~tension~ and a snuggle? w/c; 4.6k and a smidge. warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption (offscreen), drunkenness, some suggestiveness (MINORS DNI), reader has some hard thoughts, a bit of affectionate touching but nothing deliberately sexual? seok is needy and cuddly (and a terrible flirt). let me know if i've forgotten anything! note; this was originally gonna be part of a mini-series/multi-chap situation but!! i ended up hating the full thing and only being attached to like. two parts of it lol so here we are! there could potentially be a second (see: smutty?) part to this? if people want it? i don’t know yet! but this kinda just works as it’s own standalone thing anyway i think~ happy sunday <3

The first text comes through just after you finally set your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes are dry and have started to sting from a long evening staring at screens, your bones feel impossibly heavy, and you think maybe you’re settling down for a semi-decent night’s sleep when you hear the buzz of a notification. A buzz you initially plan to ignore. It can’t be anything that important: who would be trying to reach you at this time of night, anyway? 

You roll away from the device and snuggle down into your pillows, pulling the sleeves of your — his — jumper down over your palms and resting them just in front of your face. This particular garment stopped smelling like Seokmin after the second time it went through your washing machine, but there’s a familiarity in the slightly rough inner lining that makes you want to wear it to sleep in every night, forever. He never liked it when his hoodies were too new, too soft, leaving balls of fluff all over his t-shirts and vests; you don’t know when you started to feel the same way, but you’ve realised recently that you do.

Your eyes flutter closed and your body relaxes, head starting to feel fuzzy in that calm, white-noise, lovely way. You haven’t felt this tired and genuinely sleepy for… months. It’s bliss. 

And then your phone buzzes again. You squeeze your eyes tighter, determined not to lose this warm, comfortable feeling, but your phone vibrates and vibrates and vibrates and with an audible groan, you sit back up, reaching over to see what, exactly, is so damn important at 02:23 in the fucking morning.

Seokmin’s contact name flashes up on the lock screen and you see that there are seven unread messages from him in the space of the last 3 minutes. Instantly, your brows draw together: he’s seldom shied away from a double text, but you’ve never known him to pull a septuple, and you can’t feel but feel a little bit of dread in your stomach as you read through them. 

> seokmin: yn

> seokmin: ynnnnnn

> seokmin: i lied

> seokmin: i didmt go homr yet

> seokmin: can you come get mr

> seokmin: mr

> seokmin: m e

You shoot back a message instantly asking where he is, turning on your bedside lamp and already swinging your legs out from under the covers. You keep hold of your phone in one hand, waiting for it to buzz again to tell you he’s given you his location. With the other, you search for and pull on some sweatpants, sliding into a pair of sneakers. His replies come simultaneously too quickly, and entirely not fast enough.

> seokmin: u knkw the bar in town with the bear statiiue oitside

> seokmin: lol

> seokmin: do you think i ciuld beat thsi bear in s fight???

> y/n: christ. okay, wait inside for me. i’ll be there in 15. 

> y/n: also, no. you couldn’t. x

Your veins feel alive with adrenaline and worry as you grab your keys and head down the stairs to your car. The drive is quiet — you don’t even waste the few seconds it would take to plug into the AUX and pick a playlist, leaving it up to the radio to keep you company on the way. It doesn’t take too long: soon enough, you’re pulling up alongside the infamous bear statue to find your best friend sitting on the curb, propped up against the marble base.

“I thought I told you to wait inside?” you chide, rolling down the passenger side window so you can announce your arrival. It’s like he’s moving in slow-motion, or maybe your words just take an extra few seconds to reach him? Either way, he doesn’t lift his head until a silence has settled between you, and he doesn’t smile until his slightly glazed-over eyes land on your face.

“Y/n!” He cheers, lifting himself off the floor and staggering upright, pushing a hand through his hair. “Hi! Yeah, I know — but look, it was too hot in there. It was so hot. And I didn’t want you to wait-…” Hiccup. “To have to wait for me.” 

He slides into the passenger seat with a contented sigh, a mess of long limbs he can’t quite control, adjusting the vent in front of him so that the cold from your air-con breezes against his flushed cheeks. As he settles, you reach over him, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. 

“I was getting to that,” he whines, pouting his pretty lips at you, and you click the belt in place with a laugh. History tells you that when he’s drunk, Seokmin doesn’t always believe in the power of the seatbelt, among other things, so you think maybe you could be forgiven for not believing him this time.

“Okay, dumbass. Sure you were.”

He reaches down into the passenger footwell for your AUX cord, bumping his head on the dashboard and letting out an exaggerated hiss as he sits back upright. Nonetheless, he plugs his phone in and presses play on his own night-driving playlist, holding the device between both of his hands as you start off towards his place.

“So…” you prompt, because he’s staring blankly out the windscreen with a tiny smile on his lips and you’re concerned that maybe, this time, he has actually managed to drink himself stupid. He rolls his head over to look at you, and fond bliss is written into every line of his face. “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, still just… staring at you as you drive. Staring, even though every detail of you is committed to his memory already. Staring, even though he knows how your eyelashes flutter when you blink. Even though he knows how the muscles in your throat bob as you swallow the saliva on your tongue. Even though he’s sat in your passenger seat enough times to remember exactly how the late-night glow of the street-lamps overhead catch and illuminate the curve of your nose, how they highlight the point of your chin. He knows all this, but he can’t help himself. Staring is… indulgent. So, so indulgent. But he is pretty drunk and he can get away with it when you’re focused on the road — at least, that’s what he tells himself.  

When he does attempt to speak, just as you slow to a stop at a set of traffic lights, the sparkle in his gaze falters. He faces forward again, shoulders rising and slumping in a meek ‘I don’t know’.

“She was… perfect, I think,” he tries to explain, and you glance across to look at him; his lips are both non-existent, pulled between his teeth and he has worry lines creasing up his forehead. With the hand not holding the wheel, you reach over, pressing your fingertips to where his eyebrows have scrunched to try and get him to relax the muscles there. It sort of works, if only because he releases an involuntary breath of a laugh.

“Not perfect,” you gasp, dramatic and teasing even though it stings a little to hear him say that out loud. “I mean, that definitely explains why you were out drinking, alone, three hours after you told me you were heading home.” He turns his head fully away from you, now, letting your hand drop dangerously towards his lap. You pull it back to yourself before it collides with his jeans, clearing your throat. The traffic signal changes to green, and you drive ahead. “I’m kidding. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, despondent, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure you’ve seen him acting like this since you were teenagers. It’s a strange twist away from your usual, very easy-going banter.

“Seok...” You try again. “I won’t stop for nuggets if you don’t tell me.” 

“Don’t stop, then.”

“Seokmin…”

“Don’t-…” It comes out quickly, the vein in the side of his neck popping until he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Y/n. I’m tired, I just-… I don’t wanna talk about it. Can you please just… take me home?”

He’s still struggling with his words, but he isn’t abrasive in the way he speaks; that’s something you learned about Seokmin very early on in your friendship. He doesn’t raise his voice at you. He doesn’t get deep and gravelly when he’s pissed off. He just… seems to let himself feel things super intensely for a few seconds at a time and then he short-circuits, goes flat. It might be convenient for him, but it gets frustrating for you. Especially when he encourages you to open up to him as much as he does. 

His head is bowed and cradled in his hands when you pull up outside his apartment block, and you unfasten his seatbelt for him which jolts him upright. You stay facing front, though, guilt coursing through your veins at the thought of maybe having pushed him too far. You just want to understand. Why was his date being good such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you tell him, and he scoffs, but quietly.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his crown falling against the headrest; he reaches over to you, places a hand just above your knee, and you try to ignore how it feels like someone has crashed their car into you from behind. How your heart lurches forwards in your chest. How your adrenaline spikes.

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I’m sorry.”

He chews this over for a moment, but he doesn’t remove his hand, and you find that maybe you don’t want him to. Not yet, at least.

“Will you help me get up the stairs?”

“Of course I will.”

With one of his arms over your shoulders, your own supporting his waist, the pair of you begin the obnoxiously long ascent up through his building to his apartment. He’s lived here for a year and a half, and you think maybe the elevator has been working… for a total of about a week, since then? God forbid he ever got injured and couldn’t climb six flights just to get himself home. The climb is bad enough as is.

Somewhere around landing number four, Seokmin pulls away from you, mumbling something about having the spins and needing to sit down. You ease him to perch on one of the windowsills, sitting down next to him with your arm still around his hips to keep him balanced on the narrow ledge.

“You should’ve taken me back to your place,” he grumbles, doubling over with his elbows against his knees and his fingers linked behind his neck, taking deep breaths.

“Get your feet flat on the floor. Look at your shoelaces. Breathe slow. It’ll help,” you coo, and he shuffles a little so that he can do exactly that (not without wobbling and almost landing on his face, and he thanks you and your “super strong arms” for keeping him from such a fate). After a few more seconds of deep breathing and grounding, he lifts his head. Crisis averted.

“Are you-… like, a witch, or something?” he asks out of nowhere, and you snort so loudly that your throat hurts. He keeps staring at you, waiting for you to answer. Apparently your laugh wasn’t response enough.

“What are you talking about, Seok?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, as if you should just know. “How did you know how to fix me? It’s like magic.”

“Because I know you, stupid. Come on. Two more flights and I’ll get you into bed.”

“S’that a promise?” he asks, grinning to himself as you haul him back to standing, and he stumbles slightly against you, hands braced on your ribs. Sweating a little, you manoeuvre yourself away from him, landing a gentle, playful hit to his side. 

It doesn’t make your heart flutter, hearing what can only be a drunk rendition of his bedroom voice. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“Save it for your next date with Ms. Perfect, would you?”

“Agh. You’re the worst.”

“I know. Now come on.”

After a few minutes of fumbling through Seokmin’s pockets yourself for his keys (it’s as if he’s forgotten how both hands and pockets work in his now very giggly stupor), apparently brushing every single one of his ticklish spots on the way, you’re inside his apartment and on your knees, untying his shoes for him, easing them off his feet. You don’t think he can be trusted to lean down to do it on his own without breaking something.

Or himself.

“If you go get ready for bed, I’ll bring you some water?” you suggest, sitting back on your heels, smiling up at him. There’s a weight in the gaze he’s looking down at you with, in the way his tongue darts out over his lips, and how his mouth doesn’t fully close after. You tell yourself he’s definitely only looking at you like this because he’s drunk, because you’re helping him — the boy doesn’t know ass from elbow, right now — but there’s no escaping the fact that your stomach drops a little at his intensity.

“Okay,” he strains after a moment, and you stand up and away from him, kicking off your own shoes. He heads in one direction towards his bedroom, and you move in the other towards his kitchen. 

Stop it, you tell yourself, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water from the faucet onto your face. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your best friend. Stop it.

But… shit, you can’t get those big brown eyes out of your head. The way he looked down at you, the softness of his brows, the heat radiating off him. There’s nothing you can do to stop the way your thighs press together standing in his kitchen, in clothes that— you realise now— are entirely his. The hoodie. The sweatpants you pulled on. They’re an old pair that he let you steal just after your most recent breakup, when you’d stayed on his couch for a week straight just so you didn’t have to look at how ugly and empty your own apartment was. Everything. Even down to the socks.

You thought it was hard enough hearing that he was going out for dinner to your favourite restaurant with someone who wasn’t you; nothing could have prepared you for standing in his kitchen at three in the morning, hot under the collar over five seconds of tipsy eye contact, knowing he’s getting undressed behind the door you’ve been staring at for… minutes, now. Actual minutes. 

Oh, you think, feeling your blood run cold. 

Oh. 

I want him.

More minutes pass as you stew in this information — in the knowledge that you’re fucking desperate for the man who has been there for you through everything important enough to remember, and probably everything you’ve forgotten, too. The boy who took you to all of your school dances and was the perfect date, the perfect gentleman, the perfect partner. The man who has sat next to you in the doctor’s waiting room more times than you can count, waiting for results and sitting outside appointments that he told you that you were brave enough to book. Seokmin, who has been under your nose this entire fucking time — you want him, the man who went for dinner with his dream woman, today, and he said she was perfect. Acid burns the back of your throat as you fight not to run all the way back down to your car.

Fuck. It gets astronomically worse. I love him.

“Y/n?” you hear, and his whiny, gentle voice glides across the apartment like it’s been mounted on a cloud, blown straight into your ears. It floats around in your brain in the most beautiful way, and you think there could be love-hearts in the reflections on your eyes even despite the stress you’re now under. It occurs to you that his faucet is still running, and you still have two empty glasses sitting on the counter. How long has it been? Get it together. 

“Just a second,” you call back. Your voice breaks as you say it and you can hear him fucking giggle from behind the ajar door to his bedroom. The fluttering in your stomach worsens, and by the time you’ve shut off the tap and you’re walking through to him, you’re wondering if it’s possible for people to grow butterfly gardens inside themselves without noticing. No-one has ever made you feel this nervous, before. 

Breathe, you tell yourself as he comes into view, already snuggled down against his pillows with the top of his bare chest and shoulders visible in the low light. 

Fuck. 

This is the last thing you needed.

“Hi,” he greets you, pushing to sit up with eyes softer than the glow of the setting sun. “I missed you.” 

You stand corrected. That is. 

“You’re such a loser.”

You set his glass down on his bedside and crouch next to him. “Did you brush your teeth?” you ask, and his face transforms from a stupid childish pout at being teased to a devastatingly bright grin. 

This running joke you’ve shared between yourselves since your first night on the town together illuminates him, and he nods, proudly, his hair falling down over his face. You reach up to push a few strands away from his eyes, despite yourself.

“Sure did,” he tells you, and you believe him but you raise a brow anyway. He’s so pretty. With his playful smile, tongue held between his teeth, his nose a little scrunched. Fuck, how can anyone be so pretty?

“So if I go check your toothbrush, right now…” His smile turns into a laugh, his head lifts into your lingering touch until his cheek is fully rested in the palm of your hand. Stupidly, you tell yourself that this could mean something. Maybe he wants to feel you more.  

“You could find out another way,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave as his already heavy eyelids blink slowly at you. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees because that tone could have you sinking to the ground in a split. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth fleetingly and you think you’re one more line away from melting into the floorboards. 

“You’re so out of it,” you murmur, shaking your head at him. “Did she make you get the oysters? Are you high on aphrodisiacs right now?”

He groans again and rolls onto his back, a hand dramatically coming up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop talking about her,” he whines. “I’m with you. I don’t wanna talk— I don’t wanna think about her right now.”

“Seokmin-…”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, lolling his head to the side, looking at you through impossibly long, dark lashes from between his fingers. “Please.”

You’re not sure what the pull in his voice is in aid of but you force yourself to let it go, pushing yourself up to your feet before you can fall forwards into him.

“I’m gonna head home,” you say, the quiet between you laying thick and heavy against your skin. “Text me when you’re awake tomorrow, okay?”

He contemplates this for a second, frowning; he doesn’t say anything as you start backing towards his bedroom door. Then…

“Please don’t.”

He says it so quietly. So hushed, you think you might have misheard. So delicate, you hold your breath just in case you somehow manage to shatter the moment. 

“Don’t what?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. He breathes deep and props up on one elbow, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t go.”

Glued to the spot, you stare at him. You feel your head tilt to the side without really controlling it, and an eyebrow creeps up your forehead, slowly. 

“I left some lights on in my apartment,” you say feebly, and even though it’s true, a selfish part of you hopes that he’ll still keep trying to talk you around. It won’t take a lot to convince you. It never does. 

“So?” he asks, the duvet slipping just a little further down his upper half, baring more of his chest to you. “Please. I don’t want to be-…”

You swallow, waiting. The cogs in his inebriated brain are surely rotating at a few hundred miles a minute, his eyes almost desperate. Certainly glossy. Absolutely breath-taking.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Your already fragile resolve snaps under the pressure of his words and you’re moving towards his bed before you can stop yourself. 

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you say, offering him one last out if he wants it, but Seokmin just shrugs and peels the duvet back for you to slip in beside him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, and you gesture for him to look away so, at the very least, you can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He does, and you do — a few seconds later, with the garment in question folded neatly on the floor by his bed, you’re pulling the sheets over your legs and burying down against his cushions.

His breathing matches yours inhale for exhale and the more you let yourself think about this, the worse you feel even though maybe you shouldn’t. How many times have you drunkenly shared Seokmin’s bed, or how many times has he shared yours? This isn’t new. Even sober, you’ve been curling up together on the couch to watch movies and sleeping with your heads in each other's laps for years. There’s no reason for the guilt that’s burrowing its way deep into your brain, but you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n?” he asks after a few minutes of you lying stiff as a pair of boards, a few inches of cold mattress between your wide awake selves, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You hum an acknowledgement, and he clears his throat. “Can I hug you?”

Your heart does something you’re a little bit afraid of, but you nod in the dark anyway, before you realise he can’t really see you now all the lights are off.

“Drink some water first,” you tell him lightly. “Then you can.”

There’s something undeniably nerve-wracking about the sound of him obediently swallowing a few mouthfuls from the glass you brought him earlier, even more-so in the way he sets it back down on his dresser. The bed rustles a little as he moves towards you, the sheets shifting over your bare legs, and then he’s got an arm slung over your waist, his head is on the very edge of his pillow, right next to your own… he slides a leg over one of yours, slotting it between your calves, and before you know it, you’re completely wrapped up in him.

He’s warm, and soft, and his fingertips gently soothe circles into your waist where they’ve slipped just underneath the hem of the sweatshirt you’re still wearing. You hum gently, moving your arm so that it snakes beneath his neck, curling up to wrap around his shoulders. This close, you can smell the cologne he will have put on before meeting his date. It makes you dizzy, slows down the neurons firing away in your brain. You wonder what’s going through his own head — what he’s thinking about, being curled up against your side like this. Does he recognise the slight stuttering in your breathing? How cold you are in contrast to him? Will he even remember this, in the morning? Or will you just wake up on opposite sides of the bed tomorrow, all this just a weird, foggy memory in the dark?

His head burrows slightly closer to you and all of a sudden, you can feel him breathing. Every exhale fans against your neck, right where it feels sweetest; Seokmin breathes through his nose when he’s sober, but through his lips when he’s drunk. You’ve never noticed before. It’s maddening. 

“Comfy?” you ask, your voice dry and unsure, and he wriggles a little with a nod to affirm that yes, he is. Something about that makes your cheeks go hot.

“Always sleep better with you,” he murmurs, and your face grows even warmer. You tell yourself he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just drunk. It doesn’t help.

“Then sleep,” you say as his hand moves just slightly further up beneath the hoodie, the tips of his fingers gently tickling your lowest rib. You have to fight back a whine. “I’m here. You can sleep.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he breathes, and you turn your head: now your eyes have adjusted to the low light, you can sort of make out his features, so very close to you. This proves to be a mistake almost instantly, but you can’t look away. His eyes are closed now; you’re glad. He looks too sweet. Too peaceful.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“Seokmin…”

“No, I mean — everything.”

You move your hand up slightly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the top of his neck, and he whimpers softly at the touch. You freeze, and he nuzzles back against your hand to beg you to keep going, so you do.

“You can’t thank me for everything,” you tease him, and he chuckles breathlessly, his palm now laying flat across your rib cage, curling around your side. Holding you. Claiming you, just for now.

“Can,” he protests, and you shake your head. 

“Nuh-uh. Against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“My rules.”

“I didn’t know you had rules.”

“I’ve got hundreds,” you tease, threading your fingers through his strands and gently massaging his scalp. Another whine from him, but you don’t stop. Especially not when he hugs you closer, arm and leg both tightening around you.

“Hundreds?”

“Mhm. Maybe even thousands.”

“Well. Fuck.”

You breathe a laugh at him, and he laughs back; within a few seconds, you’ve both dissolved into giggles, and Seokmin has squirmed even closer until he’s half-covering you, actively chortling into your covered collarbone.

“You’re s’posed to be getting to sleep,” you sigh as his own laughter picks back up following a few seconds of deep breathing and quiet.

“I can’t!” He says. You can feel the pout in his own voice, even with his face hidden. When did he end up practically on top of you? When did your arm slip down to around his waist? 

“You have to. You’re gonna feel so shitty tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I know. M’probably gonna feel shitty anyway, though.”

“Come on. Close your eyes. Count back from a hundred. You can do it.”

It falls silent again, and you delusionally tell yourself that maybe it’s working. Until…

“Can you lie on your side?” He asks, and you sigh dramatically but nod anyway: as he peels himself off you, you roll over, facing the wall in the foetal position. He’s right back against you in a blink though, legs tucked up behind yours, trying to find your hand under the quilt.

“S’this okay?” He asks as he accidentally brushes your thigh in his search, fingers lacing through your own when he finally succeeds. Your now joined hands work their way into the hoodie’s front pocket, and everything starts buzzing when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” you swallow. “S’good.”

“Good,” he mumbles. A few deep breaths later, his voice rumbles against your earlobe again. “You looked so pretty for me tonight, y/n. Dressed up in my clothes — you’re so pretty.”

“Go to sleep,” you whimper, grateful at least that at this angle that he doesn’t see how your face scrunches up, how wide your smile is, how ridiculously good he makes you feel.

Euphoria. This is euphoria; you never want it to end.

“Count for me,” he asks, dropping his head down so his brows rest against your back, now. So you do.

“A hundred… ninety nine… ninety eight… ninety seven…”

His breathing is slow and his grip on your hand is slack by the time you reach eighty three. You doze off too, not very far behind.

thank u for reading all the way to the end!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always appreciated<3

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂

Father in law!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. It’s hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his son’s wrong doings. Aka fiancé’s dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Can’t wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!

Masterlist

You rich and I'm wishin', um

You could be my mister, yum

Delicious to the maximum

Chew you up like bubble gum

You love me, he wants me

I think I want you too

Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the Peñas, especially Peña senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness. 

The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmother’s silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed. 

Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadn’t taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being. 

How thoughtful. 

Of course, you were the pathetic one– unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldn’t breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the “happiest day of your life” outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering. 

You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldn’t manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser. 

After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over. 

For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through. 

Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. You’d heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partner’s life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier Peña’s lack of responsibility and good parenting. 

What you didn’t expect, was to find that Javi Peña was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriend’s shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you weren’t expecting Peña Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws. 

That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law. 

Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust. 

Any other day a man like him wouldn’t have needed much to woo you– with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few “pretty girls” and “poor things” and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family. 

Fucking pathetic. 

But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.

“He’s a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezin’ me so fuckin good. Bet he didn’t fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didn’t make ya cum over and over, make ya scream… stupid fuckin boy..” Javier’s grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock. 

Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javier’s hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. “Look- Look at ya- fuckin cryin’ on my cock. ‘S the only reason ya’ shoulda’ be cryin’ in this pretty dress..” With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflection– stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javi’s cock has been nudging your sweetspot. 

You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. “Look at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.” 

“Yours-” you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javi’s hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depraved– you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive. 

The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting. 

Javi’s voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up..” The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you can’t help but moan. “Yeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?” the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like he’s doing now. 

Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it.. 

“Please daddy, want your babies, wanna be yours…” Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he can’t understand what you're even saying. To be honest you can’t be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on. 

“Yeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..” you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. “Wanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wife” you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, you’ve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problem– especially with the way Javi’s tip continues to kiss your sweet spot. 

“Yes daddy, please..”  

Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. “Won't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like you– so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.” 

With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think you’d even want to sound out his incompetent son’s name after he’s done with you. 

As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. “Want ya to be drippin with me.” the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of you– down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane. 

“He’s fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight ‘round me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckin’ wishes she was you.” His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. “My girl’s gonna be the perfect lil’ mamma, aren’t ya, so fuckin’ pretty.” You would certainly like that- in fact you’re almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you. 

“Gonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.” your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down. 

“Thats my fucking girl.” That growl of his sends shivers down your spine– possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles you– firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son. 

He’s nothing like his son. 

“Yeah, bet it feels good don’t it, bein’ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..” You shake your head ‘no’ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence. 

“Make me go fuckin’ crazy, babygirl.” 

What he says is fucking filthy, there’s no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more. 

“Think you wanna go back to him? With daddy’s cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?” 

“Gonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddy’s room in the middle of the night? All wet an’ achy? Beggin’ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?” 

“Wanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya full’ve my cum every single night?” 

His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high. 

You know you're close, you can’t hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation. 

“Come for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.” 

Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javi’s name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddy’s. 

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javi’s hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Please daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..” 

Javi’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down. 

You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again. 

Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him. 

“You really want daddy’s babies?” Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod. 

“Then I ain’t done with ya yet pretty girl.” You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. You’re not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights. 

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

I'm neon phosphorescent

Open like a Christmas present, oh

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

If you're seeking heaven

Then you wanna come and get it alright

Be my daddy tonight

What's up what's up

What's up what's up

Be my daddy be my daddy

Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight

AHHHHH feel like I’m going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. I’d love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy III

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,840

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is less mean, age regression, period blood, intrusive thoughts, crying, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares.

A/N: Here you go, beauties💜 Thank you for your patience, please enjoy xx💜tell me your ideas about how we should proceed with these two if you have any💜

~

She shifted again on the couch, the discomfort in her abdomen turning more and more into a sharp pain by the minute.

Sitting up to rub sleep out of her eyes so she could go to the bathroom, she felt the dampness in her underwear and quickly realized what was happening.

She didn’t need to go to the bathroom; it was something else.

Oh, no.

It was her period, and it has made a huge mess on her clothes and possibly the leather couch. Bucky’s leather couch.

He was going to be so mad at her.

Unless she got up before he came home and cleaned everything up, right?

She took a deep breath, leaving the couch to look for pads in her bag, only to find nothing.

She forgot to pack her pads? Oh, no! What was she going to do now?

She was in so much pain and she was literally bleeding. She didn’t know if she should change first, clean up first or try to find painkillers first.

It was too much.

But, of course, as if all of this wasn’t enough, her little mind closed up and she was standing in the middle of the room, crying, when she heard his key turn.

“Bucky,” she called out, panicked and nervous.

She could see the shock on Bucky’s face, but given his previous behavior, her small mind translated it as anger; anger directed at her, “I had an accident.”

“What happened?!” Bucky dropped his jacket on the floor and ran to her, holding her by the shoulders, checking for wounds on her face.

“I—” she hiccupped, clearly scared of him again, she didn’t realize he wasn’t angry at her, but rather scared himself.

“What is it?” He asked again, shaking her shoulders before frantically searching her arms and hands.

“Period,” she sobbed, her voice quavering.

She felt so bashful, but also annoyed because she didn’t want to want or need Bucky’s help. She wanted to give him the space he’s wanted ever since he’s gotten her.

She didn’t want to tell him. She wanted to help herself.

“What?” Bucky genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“It’s that time of the month. Period.” She bit her lip, “I need pads.”

“So you’re not hurt?”

She looked at him with confusion for a second before shaking her head.

She heard Bucky mumble something that sounded like thank god as he hung his head down.

“Well…Okay, do you wanna get dressed?” He suggested with a sigh, letting her arms go.

“I can’t go anywhere like this,” she cried more, embarrassed at her state. She couldn’t believe she forgot her pads back in her room at the institution.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go!” Bucky said quickly, surprising her and himself by bringing a hand to her cheek.

She closed her eyes in fear, but whatever harshness she was anticipating never came.

Bucky’s thumb stuttered as it wiped away her tears, “I’ll get them.”

“Really?” She sniffled, slowly opening her eyes.

“Yes, go change into something clean and come back to tell me what pads… look like?”

Bucky has never done this before and he frankly had no idea how he was going to do shopping for period pads.

She nodded, hurrying to the bathroom with her bag.

She thought she’d use toilet paper as a temporary substitute until Bucky’s gotten her the pads in order not to ruin anymore clothes.

She lined her underwear with the tissues as best as she could before collecting her bloodied clothes in hand and opening the door.

“I— ehm— could you please start the washing machine for me?” she timidly asked, holding her stained clothes behind her back.

“Why?!”

“I wanna clean my clothes.” She swallowed, shifting on her feet uncomfortably.

She remembered well enough that ice cubes on bloodied clothes made it easier for the stains to come out. Maybe she should tell him about that.

“Leave that for now. I’ll do it.” Bucky waived his hand, wanting to go and get her what she needed.

He couldn’t imagine what periods were like for women, and in her state? He felt like she shouldn’t be going through this at all.

“But the blood—”

“It’s okay. Leave them on top of the hamper.”

She wordlessly did as told before coming back out, rubbing her tummy as discreetly as possible.

“Are you in pain?” Bucky asked, moving to sit down.

She nodded quietly before shouting, “no! Don’t sit there!”

“Why not?!” Bucky frowned and she grimaced before grabbing a couple of tissues.

She wiped the stained couch a couple of times before running with the tissues to the trash.

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed as she ran to wash her hands.

He didn’t think he’s ever been in a similar situation in his life and if he has, he certainly didn’t remember. But Bucky knew he wasn’t disgusted; only worried for her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was worried about someone and it made him uneasy.

As she dried her hands, she was dreading leaving the bathroom because she didn’t want to hear Bucky’s scolding about how she’s gotten his couch dirty.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, she had her hands back on her sides, desperately rubbing where her ovaries were to ease the piercing pain.

“I’ll get you some painkillers as well.” Bucky nodded, his frown never leaving his face.

He probably didn’t know, but his normal face as well as his intense stare were screaming I will kill you and it didn’t help her.

“Thank you.” She bit her lip again, eyes casted down.

“Here.” Bucky grabbed his jacket from the floor, hand fiddling with the pocket, “eat this.” Bucky brought a chocolate bar out of his jacket’s pocket, “I got it for you last night but you were asleep.”

“How did you know I was getting my period this morning?” she tilted her head innocently.

“I didn’t. I— I was gonna give it to you to—” Bucky stuttered.

To say I’m sorry

“To say good job during the visit yesterday,” Bucky sighed, the lies heavy on his unaccustomed tongue.

She took the chocolate without a word.

He was manipulating her again, wasn’t he? Probably just trying to build credit for the next visit.

“Mrs. Morrison isn’t coming the rest of the visits this month. She’s coming next month,” she informed him, disappointment evident in her tone, before leaving the chocolate bar on the coffee table.

I know, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want her to know he listened in on their conversation.

Bucky merely nodded, trying not to show dejection.

“Let me grab a pen so you could tell me what you need.” He got his new notebook out of his back pocket and sat down next to her.

“Can’t we just ask for it to be delivered?” She suggested, wanting to get away from receiving Bucky’s help, especially with something so private.

“Well, I’m offering to get them, aren’t I?” Bucky snapped, slightly losing his patience again.

He was internally mad he had to lie. Why couldn’t he just say he was sorry? And why was he feeling like he needed to protect her against the pain of this monstrous monthly visitor?

Her eyes teared up again as she stood up and started giving him the details about the brand and type of pad she used without an extra word.

Wow, she didn’t even want to sit next to him now.

Bucky understood, but he wished things weren’t the way they were. He wished he wasn’t the way he was.

Only now did he realize, she’s been a literal saint to him all along and he was all but the most ungrateful person she could’ve ever crossed paths with.

~

At the store, Bucky stood in the middle of the long aisle with his notebook in hand on the verge of crying because what was all these brands? Why did you need so many colours? And how did any of those have wings?

He needed to get back to her with those pads as soon as possible but he couldn’t because he didn’t know which was which.

She’d told him the ones she used had a pink package, but there were at least 4 groups of those coloured pink, different shades too.

Two women noticed Bucky’s dilemma and pushed forward to where he stood.

Oh shit, he looked creepy, didn’t he?

“Can we help you?” One woman asked with a smile as she stopped her cart by Bucky’s.

“No— yes. I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly as his cheeks grew red.

He's never done this before. He never thought he would either.

He didn’t want people to think he was a pervert, but he couldn’t leave without bringing her home those pads.

“For your girl?”

“Yes!”

Well, that was a fast yes.

The blonde woman looked at Bucky weird before laughing to the brunette next to her.

“First time, huh?”

Bucky nodded, blushing deeper.

“What did she tell you?” The brunette asked knowingly, not wanting to embarrass him more.

“Here, I wrote it down.” Bucky showed them the page where he had the description for the pads scribbled down haphazardly.

“Aww that’s so sweet!” The blonde woman put a hand on her heart, making Bucky smile awkwardly.

“We’ve been married two years and she’s never took down notes of my words!” She gently elbowed her wife.

“I don’t need to because I know what you want by heart!” The brunette defended before going to look at the pad described in Bucky’s notes.

“True,” the blonde standing with Bucky giggled, “your girl is gonna appreciate this very much.” She nodded with a smile.

Bucky faked another polite smile in reply.

Ah, if you only knew…

“Here, that’s the one you’re looking for.” The brunette handed Bucky two baby pink packages, “just in case.”

“Thank you so much!” Bucky was eternally grateful for the couple for saving him from going in an endless journey down that aisle.

“You’re welcome,” the brunette sang, pushing her cart away with her wife.

“Don’t forget to get her some ice cream!” The blonde shouted to Bucky.

 Bucky saluted with a chuckle, walking with purpose to find the ice cream fridges.

Enough stalling. Today was the day he made everything right. He was going to apologize even if the words killed him.

~

“Thank you.” She hastily grabbed the pads and a clean underwear and ran shyly to the bathroom to put them to use.

Bucky just changed his clothes and waited outside so he could ask her what she wanted to eat and maybe properly apologize this time.

He waited and he waited and there was nothing but silence.

She wasn’t coming out.

Now, he didn’t know how much time it took for girls to use those things, but he felt like she’s taken enough time.

Could she be in trouble? Was she too mad at him to leave the bathroom?

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Bucky knocked on the door, unknowingly making her drop the pad as she jumped.

“Y—yes!”

She was trying hard to remember the steps to put on the pad, but she kept messing it up, her mind just too little to function properly.

“Are you sure?” Bucky called for her again.

“No.” She opened the door with tears in her eyes because she was about to ask for Bucky’s help for the millionth time when she wasn’t supposed to; didn’t want to.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, his voice unconsciously caring and worried.

“I don’t remember how big me puts it on and the pain won’t go away and my underwear is all messy again,” she sobbed without breathing, covering her face with her hands when she was finished.

“Okay, okay, let me help,” Bucky suggested, feeling dumber than ever because he had no idea how to do this either, but he felt so bad for her.

“Mr. Barnes is a man. Men don’t get periods,” she whimpered.

So she was back to calling him Mr. Barnes… good job, Buck.

“We’ll look it up online. Sam showed me how before.” Bucky found himself reassuring her as he guided her out of the bathroom and back to the couch.

“It’s here.” She pointed to the drawings on the side of the package describing how to stick the pad on one’s underwear, “but I still can’t do it.” She shrugged helplessly, crying more.

“Oh, okay!” Bucky took a look at the package, trying to understand what to do, “I can do it. Let’s get you something to eat so you can take the painkillers first.”

Wait what? He wasn’t going to let her ‘figure it out’ and feed herself?

She nodded dumbly as Bucky led her to the couch.

He heated up some pizza from the box he brought last night and got himself a piece too when his stomach started making sounds at the smell.

“Here.” Bucky set her plate in her lap and his on the coffee table.

She raised her underwear to him and he discreetly took it from her, trying to avoid being inappropriate.

Was this the first time he was consciously holding a female undergarment in seventy years? Yes. Yes, it was.

He attempted to follow the steps on the packaging as he removed the thin paper on the pad, revealing the sticky side of it.

He pressed the pad on the inside of the underwear and stared at it hesitantly, “now what does that paper cover?” He removed the shorter paper, revealing two more sticky parts.

“Wait, is this side supposed to stick to your body?!” Bucky asked, horrified at the idea.

“No.” She shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, trying to find a use for the upper sticky part of the pad.

She nodded without a doubt because she knew that nothing was supposed to stick on her skin.

“I think…” she started, gaining his attention.

“Hmm?” Bucky looked at her for clues before bringing his gaze back to the underwear, determined to do it right.

“I think it’s upside down…” Her small voice stated cautiously, fearing Bucky’s anger.

“Huh.” Bucky examined the underwear with an open mouth.

After another half hour, the pad had lost its stickiness and was no longer useable.

She’d finished eating both her slices of stale pizza and took her painkillers, but Bucky was still going at it.

As she sat down looking at how determined Bucky was to help, she didn’t understand.

He was probably just feeling bad because she was bleeding, right? That must’ve been it because like he had told her, it was impossible that he’d suddenly want to be around her.

She looked at his plate and saw his food untouched. He didn’t eat a bite, too focused on the pad project.

She was mad at him and didn’t want to talk to him, but she felt really bad. Maybe she could help him without talking to him?

Without thinking too much about it, her hand was grabbing Bucky’s slice, raising the tip to his mouth so he could eat.

Bucky temporarily looked up from the underwear in his hands, speechless at her gesture.

She looked away, not wanting to meet his beautiful eyes because she was ‘mad’ at him.

Bucky bit back a smile, quietly taking a bite, “thank you.”

She nodded indifferently, head still turned away, hiding her own smile.

It was the first time Bucky has ever thanked her since they’ve been together.

But that didn’t really matter because Bucky still didn’t want her help, right? She was just doing this because he was helping her with her pad. Or at least that was what she was telling herself.

When Bucky was finished with his pizza, she took the empty plates and walked to put them down in the sink.

All of a sudden and before she could hold it in, a fart has escaped her and exploded aloud in the quiet room.

Bucky stopped trying with the pads and just stared at her silently for a second.

And then she was choking up again.

“Why are you crying now?” Bucky shook his head, not wanting her to cry, but she took it for frustration.

“Because it’s embarrassing and yucky,” she sobbed, covering her hot face with her hands as she plopped down on the couch.

“It’s not embarrassing or yucky. It’s human,” Bucky told her, leaving the underwear for a second to touch her hands.

“Mr. Barnes is not mad at me?” She sniffled, allowing Bucky to hold her hand.

“No.” He rubbed the tears off of her palms before handing her a tissue for her face.

“Do you think I’m disgusting?”

“No,” Bucky chuckled, amused that that would be her concern as she sat there literally oozing blood.

“Really?”

“Did you think I was disgusting when I was sweaty fresh out of a nightmare and you hugged me?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

Bucky remained still for a second, just cherishing her for everything he’s never noticed before, “it’s like that, too. I’m not disgusted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She smiled gratefully.

It was a really short smile that Bucky could’ve easily missed it.

But he understood. He’d take what he could get. He had plenty to make up for.

“I’ll just look it up.” Bucky shook his head finally giving up on the pad project, resorting to his phone for help from YouTube.

Women’s lives were hard.

~

Ten more minutes and Bucky was enthusiastically yelling, “Yes! I did it!” while raising a feminine piece of underwear in the air.

Too soon, however, his excitement was deflated when he saw that her reaction and expression didn’t match his.

All she did was mutter a polite thank you, Mr. Barnes as she took her fixed underwear and went to the bathroom to change.

He knew why and he knew he shouldn’t expect anything less.

She’s let him off the hook many times and he couldn’t expect her to do it forever.

No matter how kind or innocent, she was only human.

Inside the bathroom, she was thankful for Bucky and proud he’s managed to do something that she was sure he’s never done before, but her feelings were still hurt.

Bucky made her feel unwanted again after she had almost forgotten what that was like. He made her feel like she could never be loved for all that she was, or exactly as she was.

She didn’t understand him. She didn’t know when he hated her and when he didn’t. She didn’t know if he was nice or mean.

And she hated these games. They confused her too much and that was the last thing she needed, especially while little.

And even if she made everything okay again and let this, too, go. It wasn’t what Bucky wanted. She couldn’t keep ignoring his wishes forever.

And so their night continued in silent TV watching and more cold pizza consumption; and instead of being familiar, the quietness was scary to Bucky.

The way she looked so blue gnawed at his insides because he knew he was the cause of it.

She didn’t try to poke at him, made sure she didn’t accidently touch him and only spoke when necessary and she called him Mr. Barnes all over again.

Is this what it would’ve been like had she conformed to his rules from day one?

So what? Why was he upset about that now? Wasn’t that how he’s been ever since he came back to himself? Why wasn’t it comfortable anymore? Silence and solitude were what he wanted, right?

Bucky wanted to talk to her before bed, to hopefully end this agony, but she quickly gave him her back after swallowing her painkiller.

“Listen—” Bucky started, gaining her attention.

She looked like she knew what he was going to say and so she did something that goes against everything polite she’s ever learnt; she cut Bucky off.

“I’m sorry about ruining Mr. Barnes’ couch. It won’t happen again,” she apologized first.

Couch? He wasn’t worried about some leather couch!

“That’s not—”

“I’m also sorry about making Mr. Barnes go shopping for me when I promised I won’t annoy him no more. I promise not to do that again.”

“It’s—”

“And I’m sorry for interrupting just now.” She bit her lip, unable to not apologize for something that she knew was wrong.

Bucky stayed silent, however, so she assumed she’d covered what he wanted to reprimand her about.

“Good night, Mr. Barnes.” She gave him her back again, pretending to have instantly fallen asleep.

With a sigh, Bucky went to his makeshift bed as well, swearing that tomorrow morning was apology time. It was final.

~

She wanted to be strong, but she just couldn’t bear Bucky’s thrashing and his suffering any longer.

She wished she could only give Bucky what he wanted and not care, but instead, she was going to give him what he needed, what she was here for and knew how to do.

She got on her knees by his shaking body and patted his flesh shoulder gently, still resisting calling his name.

Bucky woke up with a loud gasp to find her concerned eyes pouring love onto him.

Without a word, she began wiping away his tears with her sleeve, her other hand patting his shoulder to calm him down.

“It was just a bad dream,” she whispered, wishing she could hold her daddy close and make all his fears go away.

Yes, he was her daddy even if he didn’t agree.

“Sorry, that’s embarrassing,” Bucky chuckled, trying to make little of the fact that his nightmare was so horrifying that he was crying in his sleep as he wiped at his own cheeks.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s human.” She echoed Bucky’s words and that was when he felt it; her warmth flooding his heart and body, surrounding him in gentle waves.

He looked up to meet her gaze and saw only care and compassion reflected back. He wanted to drown in those eyes; hide from everything that was hurting him.

And for the first time in decades, Bucky decided to let himself receive kindness because maybe, just maybe, he deserved some.

Before she could register, Bucky leaned in carefully, his forehead was on her shoulder and his arms at her sides as he let himself cry.

Her eyes were wide, not believing herself as her heart pounded. Bucky was seeking comfort. From her.

Without much thinking, she wrapped her arms tightly around Bucky’s larger body with an unspoken vow not to let go any time soon.

“I’m here, Mr. Barnes,” her small voice whispered, hands going up and down his back in slow, loving strokes.

Bucky shook his head on her shoulder, “no.”

“Bucky?” She quickly switched to his first name, but he shook his head again, raising it this time to lock eyes with her.

“Call me daddy.”

part IV

~

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[thewulf]

Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[pinkslaystation]

His name is Ghost.

Toxic!Ghost and ...not you

You're friend wants you to meet a special someone, and he happens to be closer to you than you think. Literally. Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah he's great, you should come meet him! Although I dunno, he said he wanted to keep 'us' a secret..."

You look up from your laptop at your best friend Michaela, who has blabbering about her new fling for an hour now. You hum in acknowledgment, but come on ... you're not really listening.

"And he has a sick motorcycle, but he's never let me on it..." She drones on.

"Uh huh."

"And he said I would look prettier with longer hair! Which I think means he finds me already a little pretty...?"

"Wow, I agree..."

"And- YO ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

You shut your laptop and focus wholly on her. "Mickey I love you, but this is the eighth guy you've loved this year. Whose to say this is gonna work out?"

Mickey sulks into your bed as you lecture her, finally being able to pour out your emotions.

"The last guy, who you planned a wedding for, you ended up dumping 'cos he reminded you of wet ketchup." You complain, moving your hands around over-dramatically. "And the dick before that, couldn't even pronounce your name correctly-"

"To be fair, Mickey is quite a hard name-" She butts in.

"It's a fucking Disney character, for Christs sake, who the fucks Missy? Listen, Mick, I'm happy for you, but you keep on dating douches, and then a month later, you come back crying to me about it. This isn't good for you or for me, you know how busy I am on this thesis."

Mickey's face contorts to a look of displeasure and betrayal, her eyes squinting as if she's trying to restraint the tears that look like they're about to burst in a moment.

She looks away before recollecting her thoughts, "I- I just thought you'd be happy for me-"

"I am Mickey! I really am! But it's like you search up 'world's most toxic asshat' and decide to bone the dude. They never treat you well Mick...come on, even a blind guy can see that..."

Your friend looks down, playing with the hem of her jumper, as if she's carefully considering your words, but you know her enough to know that she doesn't care for her advice. 4 weeks from now, and shes going to be sitting on your bed bawling her eyes out over another prick.

"You really are the worst, you know that?" She mumbles almost inaudibly, before getting up and heading towards the door of your dingy flat. You call out her name, telling her to come back, but give it a month, she'll come back trying over a different person.

It's a dark stormy Friday night, not even a week since your last contact with her, and there's already a brash pattern of knocks bombarding at your door. You look up from your laptop, almost a quarter into your thesis.

I swear if it's my fucking landlord again... You think as you grab a bat to protect yourself with, Mickey always complains about how dangerous your neighbourhood is.

You sigh out of relief when you peer through the peephole, it's Michaela...but she looks hysterical.

"Mickey...hey listen, I didn't mean what I said..." You start when you open the door to her furrowed eyebrows and hiccuped sobs.

"H- He- He keeps ghosting me-" She tries.

"Mickey, what's going on, who-"

She digs her face into the nook of your right shoulder, and your sharp nose detected the slight smell of booze, "Saw him at the grocery store, b-but he ignored me."

"Michaela honey, sit down. Okay what's going on." You bring her to your bed.

And so she tells you all about it. About the new guy that she's been seeing for 2 weeks now, how she met him at a new bar opening in your area, about how he sweet talked her into buying her a few drinks, and how he drove her home like a real gentleman. Your face scrunches when she accidentally spills about the part how rough he pounded her in her bedroom, with both her wrists tightly gripped and bound by one of his large callous hands, as he bent her over her desk.

The skillful way in which he dug his hips into her ass, 'thrusting into her like God told him to' as she put it. You mumble a little blasphemous when you hear that part.

A few more, 'Oh the dick was so good, I can't, I'm obsessed' and 'He fucked me like my future husband would', and she finally stops, her train of tears coming to a halt and she blankly stares at your ceiling, laying on your bed.

You nod dimly, not knowing whether to use the pep talk that you'd used for the last guy.

"What's this guy's name again?" You question her.

She shrugs, without energy, and the idea of injecting with a tranquiliser faintly disappears from your mind.

You look at her with amusement. "What do you mean-" you shrug, mocking her actions, "Does he have an ugly name like the other guy...what was...oh, Lester?"

Mickey snorts, looking up at you, "Lester didn't know how to eat me out, like he did."

"You don't need to bring up every sexual detail, Mick..."

"Sorry virgin..." She huffs.

You cringe at her, "Okay, so what's his name, it can't be as bad as Lester." She doesn't respond, her eyes tearing up again, "Um, okay, Imma say some names, tell me if I get it. James, John, Joseph, Jeremy, Jeremia-"

"Why are they all J names?" She mutters.

"Uh hello, you barged into my flat at 11 P.M. and you're drunk, considering how toxic this guy is, it's gotta be a J name. Jerome, Jude, Javon, Julius, Jason-"

"G." She stops you.

"G? Jason with a G...what the...Gason? Yeah, girl, if his name was that ugly, I'd be crying just as hard at you-"

"NO UH." She shouts so loudly, dragging her words, that even the gust of wind stops in fright. "His name starts with G...I think it does at least. He wouldn't tell me his real name...just a nickname."

You nod, as if in agreement, but you stop yourself because you've never been in a similar situation. As much as you love Michaela, you despise almost everything she does.

Like how in 2nd year of university, she missed an exam just so she could go on a date with a guy she was seeing. And she wonders why she had to retake that module over the summer.

There was also the time at your 20th birthday dinner, where she uninvitingly decided to bring her fling for the month, and no, you couldn't the food given the amount of time they decided to share saliva right in front of you.

"Wow Mick, your standards be dropping like this economy." You kid, although some part of you really questions how much truth lied behind that, "So, hit me. Who's this guy you've been seeing. Tell me about him."

"You for real?" She smiles sweetly at you, and for a second, every bone of hate towards her actions wash away. At the end of the day, she still is your best friend, and you should support her decision no matter what. That's what friends do, no?

"Yeah. I'm sorry. What's his name...or nickname? What do you call him?" You hold her hands, rubbing above her thumbs.

She sniffs a bit, but her smile doesn't falter, and her cheek blushes at the mere thought of him.

"His name is Ghost."

It's official. This was the worst guy Mickey has dated.

You've made a list of all people she's been with, ranking them with how well they'd treated her.

Okay so, Derek was a pass, he cheated on her with the Philosophy professor...literally worst degree ever. What kinda dumb career can you even go into with that.

Then there's Jonah, reaaaal bad boy, but he screamed like a girl and was way too deep into feminism. Pass, how do you manage to mansplain feminism??

Marc, aspiring footballer. You know what, smash, he was fine, I'll give her that. But then he left to play for Spain and never texted back... But he had dimples, so I'd forgive him.

Oh how did I forget Oliver. Auditioned to be a k-pop idol but lied about being Korean the entire time...pass for sure.

GAAH! There all so trash!

And yet there's another member on this list. Nameless, faceless 'Ghost'.

"What does he look like?" You begin your interrogation.

"Dunno." Mickey shrugs.

"How old is he?"

"Dunno."

"...Career?"

"Dunno."

"Dunno as in you don't know, or dunno as in this freak's unemployed?" You rub your temples in frustration.

Mickey sighs seeing how annoyed you are, she begged and dragged you out of your flat into the bright lights and atmosphere of a cafe.

"I think he's loaded, he-"

You sigh, "You said that about the last guy, and that was just because you couldn't see the minus sign on his online banking app."

"Can you not get annoyed at me for a second? This is my potential husband for all I know." She says exasperatingly.

"Ah yes! Your husband is a nameless, faceless, jobless knobhead who you've had sex with once, talked to...ONCE. Remind me why you're so hooked on this guy? Here's a challenge, don't mention his dick."

An elderly lady sitting on the table besides you two, grumbles and leaves after hearing that.

"...Can I have a sip of your frappe?"

"Oh would you look at that! Princess Mickey DOES know how to ask a question! You couldn't just, I don't know....ASK for his name? Don't act like this was the hardest thing you've done, remember when you considered proposing TO A MAN-"

"The only hard thing about Ghost...was his penis."

The cafe goes silent when she blurts that out.

You sigh for what felt like the 100th time that hour, and you lean in to whisper to Mickey, "Mick, it's been just over a week since you've last seen him- whose to say you'll see him again?"

She rests her head in her hands, clenching her eyes shut at the thought. "I thought I'd run into him again, I don't know...Am I stupid for wanting him so bad?"

Yes, yes you are. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

"nOoOoO, oF cOuRsE nOt, gah, why'd you say tha- yes. Yes, you are." So much for trying, "You don't even remember what he looks like, are you sure we're not stuck looking for a character out of one of your sex dreams?"

Mickey leans in so close to you, that you can smell the coffee breath.

"I know I was drunk, but I swear, I woke up and there was hickeys all over my neck-"

"But you said he was wearing a mask-" You're interrupting her and you can tell it irritates her, with her eyebrow twitching.

"Yes, but I don't remember-"

"What colour was the mask?"

"Uh, black."

"Was it a surgical mask or a balaclava?"

"Um, a baklava."

"Bitch, that's a pastry dish."

"I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" Mickey screams, standing up so abruptly, everyone in the cafe stops and turns.

You gasp, purposely loud so everyone can hear, "Are you breaking up with me...because I'm homeless?" All of the cafe goers murmur to each other at the scene in front of them.

"We were at your flat an hour ago, you fool- come on we're going." Mickey hisses, dragging you out the cafe, uncomfortably smiling at all the people that looked at you with sympathy, "No, don't feel bad, apparently a thesis is more to important than my future husband."

The walk home was pleasant, with Mickey hooking her arms around of yours, onlookers may have assumed that you two were a couple. But overall, it was nice being in her presence without the mention of any men.

"Hey look, the room next to yours is vacant. Maybe I should move in!" Mickey points out, when both of you have made it down the stairs of your building.

"I don't want you that often, jeez." You joke.

And for a while, your days do seem to be getting better.

It's been a month since your little cafe date, and you're still stuck at home grovelling through your tedious thesis.

The good news is, you're about 3 quarters in, the bad news is, your new neighbour has no apparent spatial awareness, having blasted his rock music through the floor. Unlucky for you, there's only 3 apartments on the floor of your building: you, Mr Feldman (who you're sure is deaf considering he hasn't made any complaint from the noise) and you're new neighbour, whom you've never met but already hate.

"TURN DOWN YOUR MUSIC DUMBASS." You bang on the door of your neighbour.

Yet no one opens the door and apologises.

In the evening, the noises get worse. Instead of rock, it's a combination of Weeknd songs and the loud female moans and bed shaking next door. Once you'd heard voices that had belonged to 2 women, so you deduced that you lived next to a sex-crazed lesbian.

"Mr Feldman, how are you okay with it?!" You complain. You've had enough of the noise, especially the headboard banging since it seems your neighbours bedroom is just a wall away from yours.

"Okay with what, sweetheart?" The elderly gentleman croaks out, standing at his doorstep.

"The noise! You don't hear the loud ass music?" You groan, having being repeating yourself for a 2nd time.

"Yes, the music is ass, but it isn't loud." Mr Feldman says, his finger tapping at his chin, comically pondering with his jurassic-age brain.

You roll your eyes, walking away and towards your own room, "How- I feel forgetting how old you truly are...."

"I heard that."

"I really doubt you did." You shut the door on him.

This is a real issue, not like the ones Mickey has with men, you can't focus on your thesis, this could seriously jeopardise your education.

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: have u talked to ur landlord

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: duh i unleashed my inner karen, but he isnt doing anything cos this dick offered to pay almost double the rent for his flat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: damn he loaded

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: yet he cant afford earphones apparently

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: why dont u get him some

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: wat

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: as a joke

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: hm thats funny mickey

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: thanks who am i talking to again

So you did just that, you placed a pair of pink wired earphones in his mailbox... which happened to be right next to yours. And you waited.

And waited.

And a week later, and no response.

Your neighbour definitely doesn't know that he has a mailbox does he? A week since you're little prank, and yet you can still hear the music through the walls so loud, you think you've developed tinnitus. The throbbing in your ears is so painful, sometimes you feel phantom drips of blood running down your ear.

"Asshole doesn't even turn down the music. Come on, play some Beyonce at least."

Mickey snickers, she's on your bed texting other people.

"You're not even listening, are you?" You throw a pillow at her playfully to get her attention.

"Babe, it's 1 in the afternoon and I can't hear any music now, let's not start the day like this. Say, there's a lil get together in that bar down the road, you there?" She says, but you're not even sure she's talking to you as she hadn't looked up to you since saying that.

You crack your neck from exhaustion, "Nah I'll pass, need to finish a draft of my thesis and sen-"

"Blah blah blah, all I hear are excuses, thesis this thesis that." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well you would have failed high school and university if not for me. So you paying with cash or card?" You boast.

Mickey gets up, dusting herself, "Listen I gotta dash, but I better see you there- it starts at 11."

"Woah, wait, which bar, who's going, what's the dress code- Okay you're gone."

And for a first time in a while, you're stuck in your room alone, without the loud obnoxious music and without anyone constantly whining at you. Peace and silence-

Hold on, what's that?

You press your ear against your bedroom wall, which is funny considering you usually complain about the noise. It's not music, it's more sultry and sexual. Deep and gruff moans escaping someone, and this time it's actually enjoyable to listen to. Nothing like those pornstar like squeals you were used to, no. This was more raw.

The way his voice broke at certain points combined with the lazy irregular slick noises, which you imagined to be his dick slipping through his tight, cocooned fist.

"Fuck, mhm."

That voice.

If this was the voice of your neighbour, you would have never complained about the commotion. Was this why Mr Feldman has no issue with the noise? Was he blessed with the intimidating whimpers next door?

You press further, ignoring the growing wetness pooling at your underwear. You could tell he started thrusting faster, his voice increasing in volume just a little bit.

You could tell he's close.

But some part of you wanted to deny him of this pleasure.

So instead of touching yourself with your neighbour, you're standing right in front of his door, banging against the door frame with all the might you can muster, you fear you might break it down.

The door opens.

And you're face to face with your neighbour.

And a minute the warmth between your legs actually makes sense. Because you're neighbour isn't a sex crazed lesbian...you're neighbour is a-

"Sex God,"

"Excuse me?" His voice is deeper when he's talking.

"... I said, oh God. Can you keep the music down?" You reroute your words, drinking in the appearance of this beast in front of you.

He's tall, maybe a few inches taller than 6 foot, with short dusty blonde hair, and a prominent scar running through his thin but well moisturised lips. And his jawline, wow, the Gods above must have spent eons perfecting his jaw structure-

"'m sorry. But uh, hey thanks for the earphones." He pulls out one of the hot pink earbud from his ear.

You blush, he had seen his gift, "Uh huh, how'd you know it's from me?"

"Y' think old man Feldman's gonna buy a bloke hello kitty earphones?" He kids.

"Maybe, it's 2024. Live and let live. Don't be shocked if you see Feldman walking around in a skirt." And you're surprised he laughs your joke, admiring the crease lines by his mouth when he smiles, almost forgetting that you had an imagine in your head that he was the worst possible neighbour alive...

"Cute." He comments, looking down at you.

"Me...? Or are you visualising Feldman....." You drag your words, until he laughs again, leaning onto his door frame and just then you understand why Mickey would chase guys the way she does.

"No, please, he's not my type. I lean towards um...cute, short neighbours."

"You're literally just describing Feldman, dude,"

"That's on me," he smiles widely at you, "If I had known it was you banging on my door, I'd 'ave opened it a while back." He flirts.

You blink at him, no ones ever flirted with you. What would Mickey do? No, she'd just snog him this very moment. I mean, what's stopping you?

"If I'd known you were my neighbour, I'd be banging you a while back. Wait."

There's a pause in the conversation and you're too scared to correct yourself. "I-"

But he cuts you off, letting out the loudest laughs at that you'd ever heard, almost as if he was cursed not to laugh and it had finally been broken. The type where he hand gently grabs your shoulder and you could almost feel the vibrations from his broad chest.

What a sight.

"You know what I meant." You giggle, wait, when did you start giggling?

His laugh ends in a fit of small coughs, "Didn't catch your name, dove."

You introduce yourself, opting not to sticking your hand out like you're in a job interview.

But he does it for you, placing one large callous hand in front of you, for you to shake.

"Simon." He says as he kisses the back of your hand.

You thought when you met Simon, that you two had bonded, like he was about to ask you out bonded, but alas you were wrong.

You laid in bed the rest of the day, intending to complete a draft for your thesis, yet instead you found yourself on Sims creating a family for you and your beloved Simon. And a short nap later, you wait up to over 20 notifications from your friend.

4 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: yoooo wru??? its 11:30

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: HOEEEE WAKE UP

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: fuck ur thesis come hereee im drunk

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: BABE THE GHOST GUY IS HERE NO JOKE

5 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: you better be dead

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: oml he saw me

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: black baklava btw

2 missed calls from ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: hehehehe im going back to his place

ᴹᶦᶜᵏᵉʸᴹᵒᵘˢᵉᶜˡᵘᵇʰᵒᵘˢᵉ: if i die yk where im at yh

Oh shit. It's past midnight, you try calling Mickey but her phone goes straight to voicemail, curse her and her DND.

You start looking for your keys, there's no way you're attending the party, you're just going to pick her up from whomever's place she's at and take her home.

"Mhm, doll, jus' like that."

You pause in your step. Mickey's safe right? A quick listen wont hurt anyone.

"'lil deeper pretty girl, yeah, like that."

Some part of you wishes it was porn Simon was watching, and that God was playing a cruel joke on you, introducing you to the prettiest guy you've seen, and now suddenly you're stuck hearing him fuck someone else? Yeah, you've heard it before but...this time it made you feel uneasy.

This time you knew who was behind the voice, you knew who was moaning. And forgive me, but you thought you had a connection, no? That talk earlier today...did it mean nothing?

And when did he suddenly become so vocal? What was so special about this girl than the others?

You stand still, with your ear pressed so tightly against the wall, you've probably left a mark against it. And his moans never stop.

And hers start. For a second you feel like you recognise the female voice, but through the slurs and hand-covered whimpers (you presume), you can't figure out if it was familiar to you or not.

You flinch when the head boards banging, and you feel yourself throwing every romantic thought you've had of this man when you hear his degrading tone towards her.

"C’mon, make yourself cum on my cock, dove."

You gulp hearing him use the nickname he gave you on someone else.

30 minutes of torture.

You stood against that wall, with your ear so firmly pressed, someone might have thought it was glued on. The only sounds you were focused on was his whimpers and you caught the way his voice broke when he spoke, and your infrequent breathes.

When the noises stopped, you stepped back in embarrassment. You felt so shameful practically peering into a man's sex life. How disgusting are you truly?

You reach into your pockets, feeling for your keys and your phone, suddenly remembering Mickey's whereabouts.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: just woke up

You lied. You couldn't ever tell someone of today.

ᵇʳᵒˢᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ: omw wru

You open your door, feeling the abrupt urge to surround yourself within nature after doing something so distasteful. And if it couldn't get any worse...

Simon's door opens.

One part of you wants to turn and see which lucky girl had the opportunity to getting plowed by him, and yet the other part knew you'd immediately crumble at the thought of it not being you.

"Oh my god! That's why this place looks so familiar....!"

You widen your eyes, your breathe getting caught once again.

"Mickey...?" You whisper, not even turning your head to look at the horror next door.

"Yes, it's me silly. Come here, want you to meet someon- oh can't walk, fuck." She giggles, barely conscious.

You turn your head towards her slowly, like a movie character.

It's Mickey in the flesh, wearing jeans and a black tube top that had been worn so sloppily, you were almost scared you were going to get flashed. She smiles innocently at you were half lidded eyes.

"Oh...I-"

A figure walks out, dressed in a blue-gray 3/4 sweater and a hood, and you swear you feel yourself sinking into the ground. Could this get any worse.

And your wishes were answered. Mickey turns back to press a vulgar, almost cringe-worthy kiss against his clothed jaw, and you shift your eyes down... to see his dark jeans... and the zip undone. You turn your head around, almost debating to ignore the couple and lock yourself into your bedroom until death overcomes you. Your darting eyes rest on his face, begging for him to say something to remove the awkwardness.

Yet, something about Simon was different...

His eyes bore deeply into your soul as if trying to read you, his once kind face contorted into a look of pure disgust, like he were looking into the eyes of a killer. This didn't look like the man you talked to this morning...

His eyes drag down over your crooked frame, a raised eyebrow twitching almost in mock sympathy. To make it worse, he had his arms crossed so tightly around him, he looked like the human epitome of a 'side eye'.

You pray to God it's the effects of alcohol. Or maybe you're the drunk one! Maybe you're sleeping and this is all just a dream, or nightmare...

You put your hands on the doorknob, wanting to resign yourself from this situation when your eyes drift back to Mickey, who seems to have taken the liberty of speaking.

"I want you meet the guy I was talking to you about. His name is Ghost."

First of all, thank you all for 6200 likes and 300 followers?!!!! THE BEST <3 Also, my writing schedule is so poor, I'll try to update as much as possible!! tags -> @lilliumrorum , @kxtz3 , @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12 , @restrictionsapply-blog , @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @chessecakelover , @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk , @spankmydepression , @yourfavbabigirl

[nwjnsloona]

if the world was ending (i’d wanna be next to you)

kang haerin x f!reader

synopsis: what would you do if the world was ending?

word count: 1k

tags: angst, fluff in a way??, world end au, mentions of other newjeans members but this is haeyn centric, also 6th member ig

haerin found out the world was ending on a tuesday.

she had just left her local coffee shop, the bell jingling behind her, when her phone rang.

that must be yn, she thought, picking up the call without much thought.

“yn-“

“i love you.” she heard you say over the phone, your voice shaking as you spoke.

“is everything okay?” haerin asked, worry evident in her voice.

“can you come over? quickly.” you said in the same tone as before.

“of course. but why?”

“the world is ending.”

“oh. i’ll be right there, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

you heard the beep of the phone as haerin hung up and you slid down the wall, staring at the floor blankly as you cupped your face in your hands.

the tv droned on in the background, and you could just about make out some more information about the exact details of how the world would be destroyed over the constant train of your thoughts. you decided that sitting around wasn’t a very good use of your last moments, so you picked up your phone again and called minji.

she picked up almost immediately, “i guess you’ve heard.”

“i… have. are you with hanni?”

“yeah, hanni and dani are both here.”

“have you called hyein yet?”

“dani did.”

“what did she say?”

“uhhh…” you heard some muffled voices on the other end. “she’s still on the phone now.”

“do you think me and haerin can make it there if we drive?”

“literally everyone’s driving right now. there’s no chance.”

there was a pause, and though you couldn’t see minji’s face, you knew what expression she was making.

“minji,” you whispered, like it was a secret. “i’m scared.”

“me too.” she confessed. “i’ll- i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll miss you too.“ you let out a stifled sob as you let it sink in— the world was ending, and you were all going to die.

you didn’t want to die. you and haerin had finally moved out of the dorms into your own apartment, and that was recently.

it was just kind of… unbelievable that this morning was the last morning you would ever spend together. and this afternoon was the last afternoon before you died.

you found some solace in the fact that today was your off day and you didn’t have any schedules.

the door unlocked with a click as haerin rushed in, hurriedly taking her shoes off and running over to you. she held your face gently in her hands, softly tracing circles with her thumb.

“it’s going to be okay.” she said, her eyes meeting yours.

“but what about our future together?” you looked up at her, your eyes glistening. “what about us?”

her arms wrapped around you, and you breathed in her scent. she smelled just like she usually did— floral perfume and jasmine shampoo, and you wondered how this could be so normal when everything else seemed to be tipped upside down.

a tear slipped down your cheek as minji’s voice sounded from your phone.

“hello? yn? are you there?”

“minji unnie!” haerin exclaimed.

“haerin? are you at yours now?”

“no, i’m with hyein.”

“what?”

“i’m kidding, how would i be using yn’s phone in america?”

“i don’t know,” minji sighed. then, in a smaller voice, she said “i’m glad you’re safe, haerinnie.”

“you too, unnie.”

there was a long pause, where all three of you tried to take in each other’s presence for the last time. then, minji spoke.

“i’m… going to hang up now. i love you.”

something about it seemed so final, but at the same time, you couldn’t imagine that tomorrow, you wouldn’t wake up and call minji because you were late for pick up time and she wouldn’t sigh and tell the manager that they would have to wait— that tomorrow, you wouldn’t wake up at all.

“i love you too!” haerin replied, and you repeated her words.

the three beeps sounded signifying the end of the call, and that was that.

“the last time we ever talk to minji,” you said, bitterness seeping into your tone.

“it feels so… surreal.”

haerin stared blankly at the wall.

“how are you so calm right now?”

“i mean, if these are my last moments on earth, i want to spend them happy, with you.”

you stopped, contemplating her words. then, you reached your arms out, and haerin smiled, rushing into your arms.

“you know all the things we put off saying we’ll do them another time?”

“yeah?”

“well we can’t do them another time, so let’s do them now.”

the next few hours were spent doing things you loved— baking cookies, and making a cake for your anniversary which had passed a few days ago. you ate them all, not caring about the restrictive diet your company had set. you drew each other, laughing at the end result, and looked through your camera rolls, reminiscing the past.

(“we were so young back then,” you smiled, looking at a selfie all of newjeans had taken.

“i know! we look like babies.”

haerin scrolled to the next picture— “wait! you’re not allowed to see that!” she said, hurriedly changing the picture again.

“i wanna see!” you complained, reaching for her phone. she held it up out of your grasp, but you had a trick up your sleeve.

“HEY!” she yelled between laughter. “STOP- STOP TICKLING ME!”

“give me your phone.”)

finally, you both crawled into bed— haerin lay on top of you, resting her head onf your chest.

“i love you.” you said, smiling. you felt your eyes fill up with tears. “let’s meet in the next life.” it felt so final, like it was the end, the last time you would ever say it.

“i love you too.” she looked up at you, a singular teardrop rolling down her cheek.

and despite the fact the world was falling apart, you felt whole.

a/n: sorry the pacing is AWFUL i write all my fics like five words at a time 10 mins before sleep

[solarmorrigan]

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

[fanficlibrary82]

Literal Hurt/Comfort

AN: I saw this post and had to write it or I'd go insane, so have my first attempt at writing the Merc with a Mouth; Soft Boyfriend Edition

Word Count: 912

CW: Mild language, night terror, hurt/comfort, this is a Worst!Wolverine x Deadpool, Rogue is the way she is in the movies

He was too late. Logan had finally managed to out drink his healing factor and stumbled back to the X-Mansion, only to find it littered with the bodies of his friends, his family. He walked the entire campus, trying, hoping to find a single living soul, but as the faces of Charles, Ororo, Hank, Scott, and Jean were found among the carnage, his flicker of hope began to fade. It wasn’t until he half heartedly pushed the door to Rogue’s room opened that his heart lept into his throat. He heard blood pumping, faintly, but it was there. Without a second thought he began to tear the room apart, looking for the girl, and he finally found her curled under the bed.

“Kid,” he slurred, tugging her out from under the bed and cradling her head in his lap. She was covered in blood, her body riddled with bullet wounds that oozed slowly, but she was alive. “K-kid, hey, ‘s gonna be alright, okay? You…you’re gonna be fine, we’ll get you to the city and-”

“You…left…us…” She rasped, eyes slowly finding his.

“I…I tried, kid, as soon as I heard the Professor, I-”

She took a gasping breath, the rattle in her voice an all too familiar sound to Logan. “You…you promised th-that you’d…take c-care of m…” 

Logan felt her body fall limp in his arms, but he didn’t let go, he couldn’t let her go. He pulled Rogue up against his chest, letting his forehead fall to hers. Her still-warm skin pulled a broken sob from his throat. He held her until her body grew stiff and cold. And that’s when the rage set in. He laid Rogue on top of the bed and made it a few steps into the hallway before his claws slid smoothly out of his knuckles. 

Logan let out an animalistic roar, foreign to even his own ears. He slashed everything in his path, from doors to portraits to tables, until he found himself in the Professor’s office. He stalked around the room, breath coming in short, heavy huffs that caused his chest to ache. He paused in front of a portrait of the first graduating class, their smiles wide, completely oblivious to the fate that awaits them. He snarls, slashing his claws through the canvas. If the humans think we’re just violent killers, then I’ll show them just how violent we can be.

Wade shot straight up as Logan screamed in his sleep and smacked him in the face. “Me H. Christ, Peanut, don’t scare me like that!” He gripped Logan’s arm and shook him roughly. Logan continued to cry out in his sleep, his arms beginning to flail wildly, as if fighting. Wade sat up on his knees, gently nudging Mary Puppins off of the bed. “Hey, big guy, watch that arm, you might hit-mother FUCKER!”

With a roar that was definitely more animal than man, Logan was sitting straight up, arms out, claws extended. He took a few heaving breaths as he whipped his head around the room in a panic. His eyes landed on his claws, knuckle deep into soft flesh and his expression fell. “N-no!”

Wade looks between the claws in his chest and the haunted expression on Logan's face before gently placing his hand over his unwilling attackers’. “You know, if you wanted to get inside me, all y'had to do was ask nice,” Wade teases.

Logan yanks his hand away from Wade's touch, retracting his claws and instantly covering the wounds with his hands. “No no no, fuck, no! Not again!” He exclaims.

Wade falls back against the bed and Logan follows, burying his face against the scarred skin. The older mutant’s shoulders shake and Wade tenses.

“Hey, hey, hey! Logan!” Wade pushes himself up onto his elbows and grabs at the other man’s shoulder. “Honey Badger, wake up, wake up, it's me!”

“I'm so fuckin’ sorry, I'm so sorry, god dammit,” Logan mutters, and Wade is hit with the awful realization that the Wolverine was lying across his chest and sobbing.

“Lo-James, look at me,” Wade manages to get his hands on either side of Logan's face and roughly yanks him up to meet his eye. “It's me, it's Wade, I'm okay, Peanut, look, look.” He slowly moves his hand over Logan's, gently guiding him to feel the skin that's already healed over. Logan's frantic gaze falls to Wade's chest and he smooths his hand across the surface, almost in a trance. “You're…you're not…?”

Wade shakes his head, gently rubbing his thumb across Logan's cheek. “Gonna take a lot more than that to kill me, Wolvie. You were in the Odyssey,” he replies with a soft chuckle.

Logan slowly comes out of his trance-like state, watery eyes finally meeting Wade's with clarity. “Wilson?”

Wade nods, relief flooding through his body when Logan looks at him rather than through him. “Hey, big guy, had me going for a minute there,” he nervously laughs.

“You're not…I didn't hurt you,” Logan breathes out shakily.

“Well…you didn't kill me,” Wade corrects, making Logan crack a smile. “Hurts like a bitch and a half, but at least I had you in me.”

Logan rolls his eyes and lets his head drop to Wade's chest. For a long while, the only sound is their combined breathing, so Wade dares to curl his fingers through Logan’s hair. When he hears no protest, Wade settles in, gently hugging him closer. “Don't worry, Lo. You're safe here.”

AN: Hey, I hope y'all liked it!!! Like I said, the idea came from the lovely @catgrandpa and the divider I used was made by @sweetmelodygraphics

[miguelhugger2099]

Omg first off LOVE!!! your wiring literally *chef’s kiss* imagine Miguel x reader suggestive smut where they’ve been both super busy and haven’t had time for each other and tension has been building up to this point.

Worth the Wait

nonie im gonna sob. not only was i so excited to see you be my first ask, this is also my first ever written smut!! aaaa im so nervous so please have mercy !! i jumped on my laptop as soon as i saw this and its so late right now haha im a little tired but i didnt want you to wait at all !! im not sure if i wrote too much or too little lol regardless i really hope you enjoy and if not i'm more than happy to make something else and thank you sososo much for the compliment <3333 the ask wasnt specified if it was fem!reader or not so i made it gn!reader just in case <3 Miguel x GN!Reader, Smut, too embarrassed to proofread it, Word Count: 3,681

“Hey, Miguel, do you think you could stay late tonight? Boss wants you in the lab for testing.” A short woman popped her head in his room, her hair neatly tucked in a high bun. Miguel stopped his pacing in his office, his glasses lifted on his head using it as a headband to pull back his fringe. He placed the beakers in his hands down and took off his gloves while ruby eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. He was supposed to leave in a couple minutes.

Miguel’s eyebrows scrunched up, tsking under his breath and turning to look at the woman. “Can’t someone else be there? Peter can oversee it instead.” He pleaded, exasperated. She gave him a sympathetic look and sighed.

“Sorry, Miguel. He specifically asked for you.” Not wanting to be the bearer of bad news anymore, she slipped out the door and shut it behind her, leaving Miguel to groan and slump his shoulders. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing in and out to calm his anger. It seemed like these days all he ever did was overtime at work. He fiddled with the golden band around his left ring finger, his other hand twirling it mindlessly for some comfort and also a silent apology to you.

His heart ached as he made his way to his desk, picking up his phone and dialing your number. He licked his lips while he brought the phone up to his ear. Miguel wasn’t prepared to hear your voice, happy and hopeful and only be met with disappointment.

“Miggy?” You answer happily. A small smile forms on Miguel’s face.

“H-hey, baby. You doing alright?” He asked, taking a seat on his swivel chair and leaning back to stare at the photo of you two on his desktop.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m finishing up dinner. Are you on your way home?”

Miguel’s smile dropped a bit, realizing once more why he had called in the first place. “Um, about that, mi corazón. I have to–”

“You have to stay the night, don’t you?” You cut him off, disappointment evident in your voice. Miguel’s heart clenched at the sound.

“I…I do. Believe me, I don’t have a choice or I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m not mad or anything. This month has been hectic for both of us. I just… I just miss you is all.” You speak softly over the phone. He missed you more. He wanted to be there.

“Lo siento, bebé. You know how much I hate being away from you.” He apologized. “How about tomorrow, huh? I have off. We can go out and get a drink. Or maybe stay home? I know how much you love my cooking.” He offered, his heart beating faster at the thought of spending time with you again. That feeling sank when he heard you let out a quick puff of air in annoyance.

“I can’t. I’m working this weekend. Six days in a row,” You rolled your eyes just thinking about it. Your job always had a way of pushing your buttons. Miguel’s jaw clenched as he heard you. Miguel never really liked this recent event of work taking up his time from seeing you. He hated it even more when your job took you away from him. “God, I really thought we’d have tonight together at least.”

Miguel was quick to reassure you. “Hey, hey. Listen. We’ll have a day together. Eventually there’ll be a day for just us–all about us, I promise.”

When Miguel had arrived home, it could barely be even classified as night time with the way the sun had been peeking through the horizon. He dragged his body through the door, a cold home awaiting him. After kicking off his shoes, he dumped his coat and bag on the floor and made his way to the kitchen, eating the leftovers of the dinner you two were supposed to eat together before trudging back to bed. He saw you lying there on your side and he felt exhaustion drag him down.

Miguel slipped in under the covers beside you after striping himself of his clothes, leaving him in his underwear and slipped his arm around you. He pressed your body flushed against his, Miguel’s larger body enveloping yours protectively. His nose buried itself in your neck, his lips grazing your shoulder. His hand rubbed your stomach and then slid up to rub up and down your waist. Sneakily, he ran his hand under your shirt while his lips left small kisses on your neck and shoulder. You stirred awake as you felt the sudden touch of someone else.

Miguel felt you move so he pulled you tighter to him, keeping you caged in that position. “Mig…?” You called out sleepily. You felt something poke you from behind and groaned. Miguel continued to kiss your neck, his teeth coming out to gently nip at the skin making you shiver. He simply hummed his response.

“‘M home.” He murmured. He slowly turned you on your back, towering over you slightly with your leg between his. Miguel’s arm rested by your head while his attacks became more intimate. You leaned your head back, allowing him more access and his other hand on your hip squeezed you in appreciation. You bent your leg up on the bed slightly, your knee caressing his growing bulge in his boxers. Miguel let out a low groan, his hips grinding on you for some friction.

Your hands finally reached up to his hair, curling your fingers around his soft wavy brown locks. Miguel took this as an opportunity to capture your lips with his, muting the soft moans you were letting out. His own knee spread your legs apart, rubbing in between them to add to your pleasure. You felt a jolt of pleasure run down your spine, bucking your hips up instinctively. Miguel sighed against you, his hand on that had been gripping your hip, moved down to the hem of your pajama pants. He teasingly pulled it down, letting it snap back to your body and making you whine. You felt him grin through your kiss. Cheeky bastard.

Before he could ease his hand down your pants, your alarm had blared through the room, shocking the both of you and separating yourselves off each other. Miguel scowled while you clambered up to grab your phone. “The hell was that?” He grunted, displeased with being interrupted. You fumbled with turning it off, placing a hand on your chest to calm your fast beating heart.

“My alarm. I have a morning shift.” You moaned, tossing your phone back on the counter and standing up from the bed. Miguel blinked twice before getting up with you. He reached out his hand to grab yours in an attempt to stop you.

“Woah, woah, hey–what’s the rush?” He asked, turning you around and cupping your cheek. “We can at least have these couple minutes, can’t we?” His voice dropped an octave, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. Miguel tried to kiss downwards but you stopped him, albeit unwillingly.

“Amor, you know damn well how Nueva York’s traffic is in the morning. I’m not gonna be late and get my ass in trouble ‘cause you can’t keep it in your pants.” You slipped from his arms with a playful roll of your eyes and walked to the kitchen. Miguel scoffed, slightly offended, his eyes watching you walk away and looking down at your ass.

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.” He grumbled, looking down at the tent in his boxers wondering what to do with it now.

For the next week, it had been nothing but just pure torture. With the month making you and Miguel work away from each other, this week was stretching that limit. When Miguel worked in the morning, you’d work at night and vice versa. Each time without fail, you managed to slip in a few teasing touches. Waking up Miguel by sitting on his lap and peppering kisses on his cheeks with his hands grinding your hips down on his hardening cock. Miguel cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze when you came home from work while he was on his way out. Both of you were on the brink of breaking by this point. These small acts were supposed to tame the fire within you, not burn it brighter.

Eventually, it was finally your day off after a long weekend. A break from customer service and passing out as soon as you got home. Miguel had work today but he texted earlier that he’d get off on the hour he was supposed to this time around. You felt bad. He’d been working so hard and today had been no different. He took a shift earlier than usual so he could come home earlier without anyone being there to suddenly ask for him to stay. Lord knows he’s pushing those forty hours into overtime.

From the bedroom, you heard the door open, keys jingling as it was turned to unlock it. You got up from the bed and peered out the door, seeing Miguel kicking off his shoes and coat while tossing his bag carelessly on the living room chair. “Welcome home.” You greeted him. He dragged his feet closer to you with his head down, the top buttons on his white button up were popped open, exposing a glimpse of his collarbone. Miguel immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug. You followed suit, hugging him back since you sensed he probably had a rough day. He hummed in response, settling for resting his chin on your head. You stayed like that for a while just holding one another until you felt his hand run under your shirt to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. They continued up and up your spine until your shirt was lifting up with him. “Miguel.”

“What?” He grumbled. One hand slid down under your pants, getting a quick feel of your ass and pulling your pelvis to him. You gasped and tightened your hold around him, feeling the warmth of arousal ignite in your stomach. “I need to have you. I can’t wait any longer.” His soft touching became more possessive, roughly grabbing your ass and tugging on your shirt and pants.

“Miguel.” You repeated his name, this time in a whimper. Your own hands slipped down his collared shirt and lightly scratched your nails on his large back which made him shiver. He pulled back and you saw his eyes hazed with desire, pupils blown wide.

“Please…” He whispered, his lips brushing up against yours. Your hands fell to his buttoned shirt as you looked up at him. Your heart raced in your chest–the sheer want of having you all to himself finally after weeks was too good to pass up. You nodded and the pleading look on Miguel’s face dropped as he immediately bent down to kiss you. You let out a squeak of surprise between his lips right before giving into his needs and kissing him back.

He tugged your pants down to your ankles before lifting you out of the puddle of clothes and bringing you to the bed. Once you were laid on top, you watched Miguel fumble with his belt. His large hands quickly unhooked the metal making it chime and the soft zipping sound of the leather sliding out his belt loops. He practically ripped himself free from his clothes, not even unbuttoning his shirt and just lifted it up and off his torso. You saw his girthy length, standing tall and proud with a slight red color tinged at his tip while the rest of him was a slighter darker color than his skin. His tip was already oozing with precum. A sight you had always welcomed. It became clear to you that Miguel had been thinking about this for a while–maybe all day. Miguel crawled on top of you, helping you out of your shirt and underwear and kissing you again while his hands roamed your body.

“I’ve waited so long. Did you miss me like how I missed you, cariño?” He sighed between your lips. Your hands clutched his shoulders, one leg hooking around his waist.

“Always.” You whimpered back.

“On your knees. Now.” He growled. You felt your heart skip a beat, another heartbeat going straight to your core. Stumbling, you got off your back and got on your hands and knees like Miguel wanted. This position has always made you flustered. It was both embarrassing and exhilarating not seeing what Miguel could do to you, or even get to put your hands on him–solely relying on feeling.

Perfect timing, his hands met your ass, grabbing them and massaging them. “So perfect,” He murmured. His finger grazed your aching hole where you were the most sensitive, purposefully teasing the nerves on your body. He took pleasure in the way you writhed beneath him, succumbing to his hand. His thick cock rubbed up against you, smearing his leaking fluid on you for even better access. Then ever so slowly, gliding in his fat weeping tip inside and penetrating your walls.

You both moaned in unison. The feeling of being stuffed was like finally feeling that last puzzle piece snap in place. “Uff, fuck–I’ve missed you,” He groaned, his breath shaking as he leaned over your body. His one hand held the headboard in front of him while his other hand held the plushness of your hip tightly. Miguel’s body was shaking as he entered you slowly, stretching you out after a long time of not seeing each other like this. You whimpered, falling from your hands onto your elbows as you shook with him. “Ease up, cariño, así es.” He praised, leaning back to watch his cock disappear inside you. His pride swelled at how easily he seemed to slide in you even after so long, his mouth curling into a sly smirk.

“Mi–guel…” You choked out a moan. You whined and gripped the pillow underneath your head tightly in your fists. You had forgotten just how huge Miguel was, his covered bulge was nothing compared to the real thing. Panting, you heard your heartbeat in your ears, turning your head to rest your cheek on the pillow.

Miguel’s hand left the headboard by this point, choosing instead to rest on your back, running down the curve of your spine to press your head down. You whimpered and clenched around him which made him let out a string of curses under his breath. You felt him push himself to the hilt, his balls gently smacking against the curve of your ass. He groaned, his hand on your head gripped your hair to still himself from pounding you immediately. The two of you stood there, breathing heavily while you felt each other. You could feel him throbbing inside you, twitching ever so softly. Miguel bit his lip to hinder himself from cumming on the spot with your walls convulsing around him, weakly attempting to suck him in deeper.

You wiggled your hips, bucking them back against Miguel with a pathetic whine. “M-move…plea–” You got cut off when Miguel slipped out of you, and then he slammed back inside making you scream and shake. He then began a steady pace, enough for movement but not as quick as you wanted. Still, you mewled and clutched at the sheets while his cock was ravaging your guts. The hand on your hip wrapped around your lower stomach, his bicep flexing as he held your weight up to fuck your from behind.

“Too long. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve fucked this needy hole properly.” Miguel sighed, huffing with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes rolled back and your jaw slacked open. Skin slapping echoed in the room along with the wet smack of sweat between your bodies. It was a symphony of lust and desire. An aching instinct to be reunited like this. You pleaded for more–a little quicker, a little harder– and Miguel who loved you so much didn’t want to deny either of you this ecstasy. He then used both hands to grab onto your hips and started to drag your body back and forth on his dick, drilling himself in you like a toy. Miguel used up all his frustrations of not being able to see you all this time, his eyes drinking in your writhing form while he bucked into you abandonly.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck–Miguel…!” You squealed, involuntarily squeezing him which made me grunt and buck his hips faster. You babbled nonsense while your core bubbled up the feeling of an orgasm. You screwed your eyes shut as you allowed Miguel to hump against you. He leaned over you again, pressing kisses on your back, murmuring things you could barely hear over the sound of your own moans.

Suddenly, Miguel had pulled out again leaving you feeling empty and light headed while the feeling of an impending orgasm disappeared. He let go of you, your hips bouncing on the bed without the support of his strength holding you up. You opened up your eyes, glazed with pleasure and shakily tried to look behind you. Before you could, Miguel took your body and flipped you on your back. It all happened quickly before you could even register what was happening. He took your legs and tugged your body closer to him like a ragdoll. He spread them wide then pressed them up against your chest. You lolled your head up and you saw his fringe had fallen to his forehead, sticking to it with his sweat. His chest was heaving up and down, the glow of the moonlight highlighting the carvings of his muscles perfectly–it made your breath hitch.

Miguel then loomed over you, nuzzling his head into your neck again. You leaned your head to the side making him gain more access to you. His teeth bit your soft flesh, his lips suckling your skin to leave tiny bruises along the side. “Ah–” You squirmed and gasped when you felt Miguel slide back into you again. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, your hand running through his already messy hair. You pressed his head closer, your eyes opening up hazily to stare at the ceiling while Miguel starts his pace again.

“So tight, just f’me, hm? You have no idea how much–” He moaned in between speaking, the lust clouding his mind. “H-how much I needed you. I should’ve just brought you to work, bend you over my desk and fuck you however long I want,” He shuddered at the thought, his hips stuttering while you whimpered and arched your back off the bed. “Oh, you like that?” He grinned, his voice oozing with arrogance. You nodded, your eyes shutting closed again and desperately lifting your hips to match his thrusting.

“Next time, bebé, next time. I promise. You’re doing so, so, good. You feel so good.” He slurred softly, his hips snapped harder, his cock twitching and swelling inside you.

“Mig–Mig–I can’t,” You moaned, your screams getting louder the harder Miguel went. “Oh, god, Miguel!” Miguel kissed you, swallowing all your moans while he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment he let go of your thighs. His hands traveled around your body, feeling the shape of your silhouette back into his memory. He grabbed at anything he could hold onto before curling around your ass for a small squeeze.

He pulled away from the kiss, breaths mingling for a moment until Miguel rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your hands raked down his back and you dug your nails into his giant back, leaving streaks of red in their wake from scratching him. He moaned from it–the pain only adding to his pleasure-fueled mind. Miguel peppered kisses on your shoulder, making his way down to your chest.

“Miguel, I’m so close–so, so close…” You whimpered.

“I know, ángel, me… me too. Solo enfocate en mí, hm? Just let me have you.” He pleaded, his rough moans turning into whimpering as he neared his end. You responded with a weak ‘uh-huh’ then clinging onto Miguel for support.

He murmured in a jumble of Spanish and English, his breath hot on your neck while you screamed and pleaded for more, how good it felt, anything to get both of you going. Miguel lifted your lower half up, relentlessly pounding into you while he cursed lowly, burying his head in your shoulder again. You felt the bubble in your abdomen about to snap.

“Miguel, I–!” You tried warning him but instead the waves of your orgasm flooded your body, cumming on Miguel and making a mess between your legs. You twitched around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. Your legs shook until you went limp, fucked out of your mind. Miguel whined, speeding up to catch his own release.

“Fuck–!” He moaned, feeling his cock pump out his creamy fat load inside you, painting your walls white. Miguel’s entire body tensed up, stilling up against you while he slowly came down from the high. His strokes gradually slowed down, pumping the final ropes of cum, while he softened inside you, huffing and puffing with you. He shakily but carefully pulled out of you after a few moments. You whimpered when he completely left you with a soft wet shlick.

Miguel fell beside you, exhausted and spent. Still, he reached for you, bringing your shivering body in his arms. You curled yourself in his chest weakly, feeling his hand play with your hair. He kissed your forehead, basking in each other's afterglow. He brought the covers up over you two for some extra warmth.

“I’ll…get us cleaned up in the morning…” He huffed with a tired smile. You grunted in response, too numb to speak but satisfied nonetheless.

can you tell this is my first smut? hahaaaa dontanswerthatillcry

[yourlovermumu]

imagine tying up your boyfriend while his sleeping and he wakes up to find himself literally at your mercy, saying its revenge for how he treats you in bed. and his like ''come on sweetie i am not mean to you in bed. what are you talking about?''

you tease him by kissing and licking his inner thighs. and his so frustrated. like why wont you just give him what he knows you know he wants. his telling you to just hurry up and touch him. and you tell him not until he does some begging. which he refuses to do at first. but after awhile manages to let out a little ''p...please touch me.''

you give in eventually but your just softly touching his cock while he goes, ''thats not nearly enough, baby. put it in your mouth.'' but you again, simply tell him to beg for it.

and he refuses this time again. saying no you wont get him to beg for you. and your all smug like okay then get comfy cause your gonna be tied up like this for a while.

and then your teasing him so damn much. giving his cock feather like kisses everywhere but you just wont put it in your mouth at all. nor would you stroke him properly.

and his just soooooo frustrated that he swears once he gets out these ropes, your really gonna get it. he says his going to absolutely show you no mercy at all. and your just giggling at his threats like ''as if, your the one tied up and helpless. not me.''

but luck really wasnt on your side this time. because turns out he was slowly loosening the knot while you were busy teasing the leaving day lights out of him.

''still want me to beg, baby?'' he laughed at the panic on your face as he yanked you by your arm. slamming you down on the bed. he pinned both of your hands above your head and tied you with the same rope you used on him. ''yeah? do i still need to beg, princess? beg for you to suck my cock? do i?'' he taunted. a smug grin plastered on his handsome face.

needless to say...he quite quickly had you regretting ever playing around with him in the first place.

you cried and squirmed. jerking your hips away from him only for him to pull you back by the hips. ''keep doing that and i might not let you cum at all tonight.'' he said sternly, slapping your thigh to somehow make you behave. all you could do was just sit still and take it. you had lose count of how many times you had been edged. your mind clouding with the need to get rid of the uncomfortable arche.

''p-please-! i- i am sorry!! i- a-ah...let me cummm...p-please i am s-so sorry...'' you sobbed. begging him pitifully.

''aw...my poor baby wants to cum so badly, doesnt she?'' he cooed. stroking your cheek tenderly while his thumb brushed away tears.

you nodded dumbly in respond.

''...'m sorry baby, your gonna have to prove to me you deserve to cum.''

you frowned, pouting sadly before a yelp left your lips when he pressed the vibrator to your clit again.

''its no use pouting, baby. dont try to use your cute little face to get your way.'' he chuckled. biting his lip when his eyes landed on your pussy again. so fucking drenched. soaking the sheets and yet you havent even came once yet. he cant help but let out a dreamy sigh at the sight. fingers prodding at your hole before slipping in with ease. they slip in so nicely. ''..god you take my fingers so well.'' he groaned.

and truthfully he is rock hard. has been since your little teasing session. it was only a matter of time before he gave in. the only reason he has been able to have some self control for this long without drilling you full of his cock was because he gets off on seeing you cry and beg. he loves it. the wracked state your in and the how vulnerable you look. the way your pussy is just begging to have his cock inside. and so is your mouth, letting out pleas after pleas to just let you cum. you even tried tempting him to fuck you full of his cock. sly little thing. it almost worked. almost. if he hadnt slapped your ass and threatened to not let you cum at all you probably would have been able to get him to fuck your tight little hole. but now....now he wasnt sure how much longer he can hold on and not just fuck you dumb.

''how about this, you gimme a kiss, and if your able to kiss me back properly while i stuff this pussy full of my fingers...then i'll let you cum. how's that sound? hell i would even give you cock. yeah? you want my cock, baby? mhm...sweet little thing..such a mess right right now..need to be full of my cock so badly, huh?''

he chuckled seeing you desperately reach to kiss him. your just soooooo adorable.

his lips were soon on yours and oh you were winning straight into his mouth. trying so desperately to keep kissing him without your mouth hanging open to moan loudly from how good his fingers were hitting your insides.

the kiss was messy. his tongue finding its way into your mouth and tangling with yours. small groans slipping from his lips as he kissed you like a starved man.

the kiss was messy with your mouth latching onto his yet you couldnt help how distracted you were by his fingers toying with your cunt. his thumb rubbed at your clit as two of his long, thick fingers drilled into.

and it turns out kissing was proving to be a little difficult with how good his fingers were making you feel.

but even if you werent able to kiss him back properly, he wouldnt hold it against you. he cant hold it against you. hell, he would be lucky if he could even think about anything other then the feel of your tight, warm walls squeezing his fingers and the twitch of his cock at the thought of replacing his fingers with his dick.

''h-hah...you wanna cum baby? you wanna cum, right?'' he spoke in between pants. breathing heavy as he held direct eye contact with you. his eyes heavy with desire.

he smirked smugly when you nodded your head over and over, mumbling out a breathy ''yes''.

''..yeah? of course you do.'' the words left his mouth as his palm came to lay flat against your cunt, slapping it. you yelped and he only snickered at your reaction. ''..dirty, dirty little girl...look how messy you're down here..its beautiful.''

his eyes were fixated on your wetness that made not only a mess on the sheets but also his hand.

without a word he brought his hand to your lips, poking at your bottom lip as he urged you to open your mouth.

''c'mon princess, you know what you have to do...open that pretty little mouth and suck.''

you didnt have to be told twice. already parting your lips open to take his pointer finger into your mouth. you took it in inch my inch, and he didnt rush you. just letting you take your time with it. but by the sight of something so erotic...his not sure how much longer he would last. his already at his limit. and you just had to look up at him like that while he had his fingers in your mouth, sucking them so, so gently as your tongue swirled around the digit. and he wasnt even thinking before shoving another into your mouth. and you welcomed it gladly.

''...d-addy..please f--uck me...'' your voice came out muffled by the fingers that stuffed your mouth. but he heard you nonetheless.

''...damnit.'' he mumbled under his breath, his jaw clenched as he finally deemed he really cant hold back anymore. he needs to fuck you. right. now.

he was quick to slip his fingers out of your mouth just as quick he was with shoving them in. both his hands now gripped your hip in a way that was sure to leave bruises.

his hand slipped down from your hips to your thighs, his strong arms pushing them back to your chest. he leaned over you, bring his mouth to your wrist and ripping of the thin silk ropes. he pulled the ropes off of your wrists with his teeth before spiting it out on the ground.

it wasnt necessary to have you tied. not anymore when his cock alone is going to leave you senseless. not to mention he loved it when you left your scratch marks on his back.

''gonna fuck you hard now baby, hold on tight, kay?''

GOJO SATORU, TOJI FUSHIGURO, GETO SUGURU, shoei barou, reo mikage, JINGO RAICHI, ryusei shido, OLIVER AIKU,MICHEAL KAISER, kei tsukishima, tobio kageyama, TETSURO KUROO, TURO OIKAWA, YUJI TERUSHIMA, ATSUMU MIYA

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The End (The Surprise, Part 25)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of afab body parts, baby times, emotional times, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Everything you've ever wanted, everything Emily's ever wanted–it's happening. ❤️

NOTE: You guys 😭😭😭 I've literally had so much fun writing this series! I know it's not the end end. I'll keep adding chapters as I feel like it. But still. This is a bittersweet one to finish up. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. ❤️

The End

You blinked awake, and it was as if your senses, your body itself, were restarting after a hard reboot. Your brain couldn’t quite catch up with the bright lights, the beeping of the machines, the throbbing pain below your belly…

Your breath caught in your throat. Your belly. It had shrunk, not completely, but it was empty, you knew. You coughed and winced, glancing around the room so quickly you made yourself dizzy, your brain seemingly unable to take in any of the visual information. You felt tears spring to your eyes, a cold panic seize your chest; you could hear your heart rate monitor beep faster, more urgently, until alarms were going off. Where was the baby!? Something was wrong, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She was gone. She was lost.

But, then, something familiar, finally. A voice you recognized. Emily’s: soft and gentle and comforting, the way she always sounded when you were scared and she was trying to calm you down. 

“Hey, hey,” she cooed, and your eyes swam as her face came into view. You were so confused and you felt sick and your stomach hurt and your baby… You choked out a sob and Emily gently grasped your face, kissing your eyelids. “It’s okay, honey. You’re okay.” She had huge, dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t been sleeping, and when your eyes focused, you could see that she was on the verge of crying, too. And that terrified you.

You couldn’t seem to get any words out, but managed to place your hand over your stomach, looking into Emily’s eyes to ask a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Emily wiped tears from under your eyes and sniffled. “Baby, she’s fine. She’s just fine. She’s sleeping right there.” Emily pointed to the chair behind her. Beside it was an elevated box, an incubator, and inside, just barely poking out, you could see her skin, her little foot, minuscule and perfect.

You sobbed in relief and Emily kissed your forehead, wiping her own tears away before running a hand through your hair. “She’s okay, honey.” Her voice broke as she looked at you. “You scared us, you know that?”

You pulled Emily toward you, so you could press your forehead to hers, could just breathe her in. She was so relieved, had been so scared, her body literally shook with it. You kissed the side of her head, holding her close.

You cleared your throat and looked again at the incubator, shocked at how your stomach had shifted from being sick with worry to being sick with excitement.

“A girl?” you asked, voice hoarse from the anesthesia. Your eyes twinkled with mischief as you waited for Emily’s answer.

She nodded, grinning and shaking her head at the long-running joke. “You were right. You want to hold her?”

You nodded vigorously, trying to sit up further and wincing at the pain in your abdomen.

“Careful, careful!” Emily exclaimed, lunging forward to help you. “Be gentle with yourself, please, baby,” she insisted, watching you as if you could break at any moment.

Emily washed her hands thoroughly, then doused them in hand sanitizer before squirting an ungodly amount of sanitizer in her hands and bringing it to you. She rubbed it into your skin, then pulled your shirt open a bit so that your chest was exposed.

You waited, barely breathing, as Emily carefully pulled the incubator over. She opened the little door and reached in gingerly to grab the baby, cradling her carefully and kissing her forehead.

“Eve,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Meet your mama, sweet pea.”

Emily’s eyes were full of tears again–and so were yours–as she carefully placed the sleepy baby on your chest. You sniffed, blinking tears away as you cradled your daughter’s tiny, warm body. Eve gurgled and wriggled and blinked her eyes open. She wrapped her hand around your pointer finger and you giggled. Nothing had ever felt more right, more perfect in the world, than Eve resting on your chest, than her little heart beating against yours, than holding her here while Emily sat propped on the bed beside you, running her hand through your hair and kissing your head every few moments.

“Hi, pretty girl,” you whispered to the baby. Eve coughed a bit and started to cry and you patted her back gently. “Oh, shh. It’s okay, Evie. You’re okay, baby girl.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that, you and Emily, just watching her, just beaming to one another every time Eve moved, every time she made a new adorable sound, every time she yawned or blinked or squeezed her little fists. But it wasn’t long enough. You didn’t know that you’d ever get enough of this.

Dr. Delgado came in and smiled at you all. “How are all my ladies doing this morning?”

You grinned so wide your cheeks hurt. You pressed your hand into hers and looked into her eyes. “Thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and by her voice you could tell she really meant it. “Now, Y/N, you lost quite a bit of blood during the c-section and the resulting surgery to repair your uterine lining. I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, but… you will not be able to have more children.”

Emily squeezed your shoulder, and both she and Dr. Delgado waited a bit, as if waiting for you to break down. But you didn’t feel sad, at least not right now. You had Eve. You and Emily had a child. That’s what you had set out wanting, and that’s what you had. You couldn’t imagine needing anything or anyone else besides the two girls you had with you right now.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“It also might take a bit longer for your c-section incision to heal than most, since your body’s healing internal damage, too. All that to say, let Emily help you. Understood?”

“Understood,” you confirmed.

“Alright,” Dr. Delgado consulted her tablet. “Some official business now. Emily, now that Y/N’s awake, do you feel comfortable putting the name on the birth certificate?”

“I do,” she said, her hands never leaving you.

“Alright, so obviously, first name ‘Eve.’ Last name?”

“Prentiss,” you told her. You’d both decided that a long time ago.

“Any middle name?”

You looked at Emily and she nodded toward you. “Your call, honey. You won.”

You stared down at Eve’s sweet, crinkled face and smiled. “Julien.”

Emily sucked in a little breath beside you, furrowing her eyebrows when you looked at her.

You shrugged. “It’s can be a girl’s name. Your family should be a part of her name, too.”

“Eve Julien Prentiss,” Dr. Delgado repeated. “Is that right?”

You both nodded, and Emily planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Alright. She was born yesterday, August 24, at 5:42 AM. Four pounds, one ounce. 17.1 inches. All in all, she’s doing very well. I’d like to monitor her for at least 48 more hours and, ideally, I’d like her latching and breastfeeding, at least some, before you take her home, if we can make it happen. We can always supplement with formula as needed, though. Right now, she’s got a nasal cannula to help her breathe, but she’s doing very well with it, so I think we should have you guys home within the week, at most. Alright?” She set down the tablet and gestured toward you. “While I’m here, you want to try breastfeeding?”

“Yes!” you answered excitedly. “Please.”

Dr. Delgado handed you a moon-shaped pillow and placed it around your waist. “Okay. So we’re gonna send you home with one of these. It’ll help you stay comfortable, especially while you’re recovering. You’re gonna want to do what’s called a football hold while your incision is healing…”

She gingerly lifted Eve off your chest and positioned her under your arm, just like you were holding a football, and showed you how to hold her head up. “You’re gonna kind of lift the breast up,” Dr. Delgado explained. “And then you bring her to the nipple. You almost want her nose to touch the breast.”

You followed her instructions, using your other hand to press Eve toward your nipple. Emily watched behind you, her fingers rubbing the bottoms of Eve’s feet. You frowned a bit as the baby tried to squirm away, twisting her head.

“Here,” Dr. Delgado suggested. “Try squeezing the tissue around the nipple to make, like, a nipple sandwich. Then brush it against her mouth. She should kind of yawn… Yes! Just like that!”

Eve opened her mouth wide, and you gently pressed her toward your nipple, gasping softly as she took hold and began to suckle. Her little mouth was warm and firm against you.

You smiled and turned to Emily, who was looking at you like she might start crying again.

“Well, that was easy,” Dr. Delgado said, clapping her hands together. “I tell you what, if all babies latched that easily, new parents would spend half the amount of time in the hospital.” She stood and made some notes on her tablet before moving toward the door. “I’ll leave you all alone for a bit. She’ll unlatch when she’s done, you can burp her, and she’ll likely want to take a nap afterward.”

“Thank you, Dr. Delgado,” you called after her.

“Thank you!” Emily echoed.

When the three of you were alone again, Emily wrapped her arms around your neck from behind, planting kiss after kiss on the side of your face.

“Oh, honey, you look so beautiful,” she said, nearly breathless. “Both of you. You know what…”

Emily stood and rifled around in her purse for her phone. When she had it, she stood back and held it out, as if to take a photo.

“Hey!” you protested. “I thought we said no hospital pics!?”

Emily gave you a pointed look. “We said no labor photos. And I kept my word on that! Honey, you’re too pretty not to take a picture of. I mean, look at you!” Emily’s eyes were suddenly swimming again. “Look at my beautiful girls!”

You let Emily take her pictures, knowing that you’d probably be glad to have them later.

A few minutes later, as Emily was scrolling through the photos with a discerning eye–“Baby, do you mind if I post one of these? …Not the boob ones! Just one of the others? Oh! Could we take one of all three of us?” –Eve unlatched from your nipple and yawned, spilling milk out the side of her mouth, which you dabbed up with your hospital gown.

“Hey, Em,” you called to her. “Could you come here and take her for a second? I need to burp her, but I’ve got to move a little, my leg’s falling asleep.”

She was at your side faster than you could finish the request, lifting herself into the hospital bed next to you, and gently taking Eve from you.

“Okay,” you said, fighting off a yawn. The adrenaline of meeting your daughter was wearing off, and the exhaustion of meds and healing and new motherhood was hitting all at once. You tapped Emily’s arm. “I can take her back.”

“I can burp her, honey,” Emily told you, reaching slightly for a burp cloth and draping it over her shoulder. “Why don’t you rest for a while?”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already lowering yourself, slowly, painfully, so that your face rested on Emily’s lap.

“I’m sure,” she said, running one hand through your hair while the other tapped rhythmically against Eve’s back. “It’s not just you now, honey. I can finally pull my weight.”

You squeezed her thigh, smiling against her. “Oh, Em. Baby, you’ve pulled more than your weight. The whole time.”

Before you had the chance to say anything else, you were conked out. So conked out that you were drooling, even snoring a bit. Emily smiled and shook her head at you.

Eve let out a burp that seemed almost too big for her body, and Emily chuckled. “Oh, good job, sweet pea,” she whispered, kissing Eve’s head. “That was a big one. Let’s not wake up Mama, though.” Emily patted Eve’s back for a bit longer, then noticed the deepening of the baby’s breath, the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Eve was asleep, too.

Emily watched you both, her heart filled with so much love she thought it might burst. And to think, just 24 hours ago, she’d been so close to losing you both. She’d never been more thankful in her life, never more determined to keep people safe and happy than she was you and Eve.

In a moment of inspiration, she fished her phone out of her pocket, and held it above her head, positioning all three of you in the photo. You, curled asleep on her lap and Eve sleeping softly on her chest beneath her hand.

She typed out a caption for social media:

My girls ❤️

She couldn’t help it. You were, both of you, too good not to share. And she’d gotten about a million calls from the BAU, not to mention your mom and even her mom, asking for photos and updates. She pressed post and then threw the phone to the side, content for now just to be. She would never take you for granted again, knowing she could have lost everything yesterday. But instead, she had gained everything. Everything she’d ever wanted, here in this room, in this bed. Forever hers. Her girls. She was the luckiest woman in the world.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

matilda - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys i have back pain and i have daddy issues so i wanted to write a quick blurb about it. so. sorry if you guys cant particularly relate to this one it's for me <3 warnings: ANGST, reader cries a lot, probably cursing, lots of daddy issues, lots of being upset, mentions of fathers being drunk, matt picks up the reader but matt in my brain can lift like 250+ so, uhhhh i don't know guys just angst and daddy issues ! word count: 1.2k summary: you have daddy issues and back pain. matt does his best to help. pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader now playing: matilda - harry styles "i don't believe that time will change your mind/in other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore/as long as you can let them go"

Matt finds you on the floor of the kitchen, your knees hugged against your chest. He is so tired, bruises starting to really hurt after sitting all purple and blue on his ribs and his arms. He’s just in his boxers his hair damp from a shower.

You are just in a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. Your knuckles are white, and you are staring into space in the most literal definition. It’s four a.m. You are a twenty something year old adult, you have not slept in your mother’s bed in years.

And yet, you feel like a child.

And your back is fucking killing you.

Matt sits next to you on the kitchen floor, goosebumps shooting up his skin as his feet and palms feel the cold, rough tile floor. His hand finds your arm and gently rubs his thumb against your skin.

“What’re you doing on the floor, sweetheart?” His voice is low and thick with sleep. He is so tired, that his words aren’t nearly as poetic, sappy or flirtatious as he wants them to be (maybe not all at once, but he most certainly wished they were better than that).

You consider lying to him for a moment. Really, you do. You could tell him that the floor is just more comfortable, that you want him to fuck you right here against the tiles, that you just could not sleep, that there is nothing deeper than a busy brain that cannot calm down.

“My dad called me while you were away.” You tell him, your voice soft. Matt will be able to hear it no matter how loudly or quietly you say it. And at your confession, he tenses. He has a complicated relationship with your father, but his relationship is calm compared to the raging waters that make up how you feel about the man.

“Okay,” he starts, rubbing your arm gently. “And what did he say?”

You blink.

“Nothing. Nothing that should have made me feel like this.” You tell him, a horrible taste in your mouth. From what, you do not know. Matt doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to tell him more. “He was drunk.” You say quietly.

“Oh.” He knows you don’t drink. He knows you have a very complicated relationship with substances. “I can understand why that might be upsetting..” he tries, and you shake your head, your face twisting into frustration, anger, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“He’ll never change.” You whisper, too afraid to be any louder, too afraid that maybe from miles and miles away, your father will hear you. That maybe if you say it any louder, it won’t be a secret anymore, and that you’ll start crying if you say it any louder. “He’ll never ever change.” You say, and your head turns to look at him.

And you stare at the man that you love, and you stare and stare, and you think about Jack Murdock who loved his son so much that he was willing to die for him to have a better life, that he was entirely selfless when it came to the person you are lucky enough to call yours.

And you think about how your father wants nothing to do with you. He never did. Not really.

That’s when you start to cry.

It starts with a few tears rolling down your cheeks, salty and fat, as if they hold all of the memories your brain has locked away to protect you. Then, the tears come out faster, and faster, until you are choking on your own breath, racking with sobs. Matt’s arms are around you in an instant.

He pulls you close to him, and you feel bad for getting tears all over his skin. He’ll tell you it’s his fault for wearing just briefs. He pulls you into his lap, and while you cry into his neck, his hand comes down to your back and slips under your shirt, gently rubbing it up and down.

You twitch at the feeling, your back still aching as you sit with him, the pain contributing to your tears. Matt’s lips kiss your forehead, and he just holds you for a long time. Your breathing becomes short with how violently you’re sobbing.

“Hey, easy..” he says softly before he tilts your head up to look at him. “Your breathing isn’t healthy. Come on, watch me,” and he takes deep breathes in and out, expecting you to copy his attempts. When you’re finally at a point where you an breath on your own, Matt begins wiping your tears gently.

“Sorry…” You say quietly. He just shushes you softly and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“You never have to apologize for your emotions.” He promises, “I love you so much. I am so sorry he’s like that,” and now Matt is crying and he’s not sure why, but you feel awful about it, so your shaky hands come up to wipe his tears and he wants to laugh at your attempt at gentleness because he wonders how often you were shown the same kindness and his heart aches at the most realistic answer.

“Honey, you never have to worry about him again. You made it out, he can’t hurt you anymore..” He tells you, and you try to believe him. “You’ll never feel anything except safe and loved, I promise.” He says quietly, before leaning in to kiss you gently. “Is there anything else?” He senses that you are in physical pain too. Partially because he can tell by how your jaw clenches that you are tense, but even without his super senses, he just knows you aren’t feeling well.

He knows you too well.

“My back is killing me.” You confess, and he frowns. “And my head now.” Your head always hurts after crying.

“Okay,” He nods, “Hold tight,” and somehow, your fucking angel of a man picks you up off the floor and carries you to bed. He steps away only to grab you a glass of water and some Advil. You take it quietly, chugging the water before he sits on the bed next to you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, still upset, but so so grateful. He just smiles sadly and leans in to kiss you gently. Then, he pulls away to ask,

“How about I give you a quick back massage and then we get to bed? You must be tired. I know I am.” You sigh and nod, shifting so you’re laying on your stomach.

Matt leans down and kisses your shoulder before whispering, “I meant it you know. You made it out. You’re safe. You’re loved.”

And even without being a human lie detector like him, you can tell he’s telling the truth. It makes you cry more, but Matt stays to wipe the tears away. He’ll always stay. And he’ll always tell you as much when you need the reminder.

You’re safe.

You’re loved.

These words echo in your brain as you drift off to sleep, Matt holding you close, fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you fall into a dreamless sleep, focusing on the warmth that radiates off him.

[heeliopheelia]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄-𝐔𝐏𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊-𝐔𝐏𝐒

part 1

genre: hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 3.2k

warnings: curse words and fuckload of tears, breaking up in some

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

"Fucking hell, pick up," Heeseung mutters under his nose as another one of his calls goes straight into the voice mail. He's been sitting on the edge of the couch, nervously picking on his nails ever since you left the apartment.

It's way too late for anyone to be walking outside alone. Heeseung's well aware of that, so the second that his call gets declined again, he jumps up on his feet and leaves your house, not even bothering to lock the door behind him. The only thought present in his mind is to find you and make things right. He can't believe he would hurt you like that with some reckless words he didn't even mean. You always told him he was way too hot headed for his own good and now the time has finally come for your words to be proved right.

As he turns the first corner, he finds himself crashing into another person, their startled gasp echoing through the empty street. He doesn't even need a second to recognize your silhouette and without thinking much he pulls you closely to him, heart nearly beating out of his chest from relief.

"Oh my god, I was so worried about you!" He says, voice breathless as he holds you closely. Your small sniffles nearly break his heart in two. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so cruel with you earlier. I'm sorry."

But you keep silent, only let your tears drench his t-shirt. Heeseung swallows nervously, feeling like he's losing you already. And, fuck, he was not ready for that to happen.

"Please just say something," he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head a little desperately, yearning for any sort of an answer from you. "YN?"

"I'm sorry, Heeseung," you say quietly as you finally pull away from him, finally allowing him to see all the damage he's caused written all over your face. "I just don't get how could you even say all of that to me so easily? Comparing me to your ex, really? And you've literally said you don't love me anymore."

Biting his lips hard, almost painfully, he listens to your broken rambling. "That's not true. I do love you." He feels his heart stuttering slightly as he notices the uncertainty in your teary eyes. "I love you, YN."

You step away even farther from him. "It's kinda hard to believe after today."

"I know," he can barely hold back the whine mingling at the back of his throat. "I know that I don't deserve to be forgiven so easily but just- Please, you can't break up with me now. Not like this. I didn't mean it, darling. I'm sorry."

The desperation in his voice nearly makes you give in. Nearly, because no matter how hard you try, you can't push his cruel words out of your mind.

"Look, Heeseung. I love you," before you can see the hope starting to shimmer in his dark eyes, you continue, "I really do but I just can't imagine how this relationship would work anymore. There's way too many wrongs to only focus on the rights, don't you agree?"

"No, I-"

"Let's just go home for now, okay?" You interrupt him, feeling tired from the long day. "I'll pack my stuff up in the morning."

PARK JAY

How could he forget about the one day he's been looking forward the most to for the whole month?

Jay closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh before quickly calling his boss to cancel the meeting. Swearing under his nose, he reminds himself of all the thing's he's had prepared for you today. And now his stupidity has ruined it all for you.

He thought he would give you a moment to yourself for collecting your thoughts, but after another minute of listening to your sobs coming from behind the door, he let go of that stupid idea and walked into the bathroom. Seeing you sitting by the wall with face hidden in your hands makes him realize that he would give absolutely everything to somehow invent a time machine and go back in time, only to make you happy again.

You don't even flinch when he takes the spot on the floor right next to you, arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you to his lap. You let him do all of that because no matter how much he's hurt you, his touch will forever remain the one thing that instantly brings you comfort. You know that that feeling won't evaporate so quickly as he's been your support person for such a long time.

"I'm sorry I forgot," he says into the silence after a heartbeat or two. Your traitorous heart instantly melts the second he brings his hand up and starts stroking your hair softly. "And I'm sorry I put my work first without thinking of you."

"It's okay, it's not that big of a deal anyway. I don't even care about my birthday that much," you mumble into his shoulder.

"Don't do that. You deserve an apology," he scolds you softly. His hand slips lower to your cheek and he pulls your face up to look right into your bloodshot eyes. "It's not okay and it is a big deal. And I'm sorry for being the worst boyfriend you could ever ask for."

You let out a small huff. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"But absolutely deserved," Jay sighs before lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. "I'll never dismiss your feelings like that again. That's a promise I'll keep forever. I love you so much, honey."

"I'm glad to hear it," you hum, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve. A sleeve of his hoodie, actually. "I hate fighting with you."

"Will you forgive me?"

His question doesn't linger in the air for a long time unanswered, because as soon as it leaves his mouth, you're leaning in and pressing your lips to his. Jay quickly responds to your kiss as he nearly engulfs you in his arms, pulling you as closely to him as it's possible. His fingers are caressing your cheeks gently, almost as if he's afraid of causing you any more damage.

"Do you still feel like celebrating your birthday?" He asks, following his words with few more kisses to your tear-swollen lips.

"Absolutely. As long as you buy me Starbucks today."

SIM JAKE

"You didn't answer my calls," Jake says as the two of you walk inside your apartment.

"I think the reasons for it are pretty self-explanatory," you respond, directing yourself straight to your kitchen with Jake following you closely, nearly stepping on your heels. You lay the grocery bag on the counter and start unpacking its contents.

"I'm sorry I forgot about our date again, it just slipped my mind, I swear. I'm sorry."

"Good to know I'm so forgettable to you," you huff, not looking at him even once. "Well, you never forget about your friends, that's for sure."

"I shouldn't have done that," Jake admits, moving closer to you and reaching for your shoulder. "It was wrong of me to lie to you about it."

"Yeah, no fucking shit."

"Will you just let me apologize?" He raises his voice, losing his patience with you quickly.

You turn around and send him a pointed look, eyebrow raised as you finally meet his eyes. "Damn, that's bold of you to be yelling at me like that in your position, Jake."

He immediately lets go of you and rubs his face with his hands. "I know, I know. I just- fuck, I'm sorry."

"I only have one question for you," you say as you stop unloading your groceries for once and lean back on the counter, bracing your hands on each of your sides. "Why are you even in this relationship when it's clearly not even in your top three priorities?"

"Hey, that's not really fair, is it?" He backs away as his tone raises defensively. "I've been a good boyfriend to you most of the time, YN. I've just missed a couple of dates, that's all. I'll make this all up to you, I promise."

"Oh, come on, Jake! Do you really expect me to just forgive and forget? You can't be serious."

"I mean, that's how relationships work. You fight and you make up," he says, nodding his head as if he's looking for your affirmation, "We're not gonna break up because of a stupid argument, are we?"

When silence is your only answer, Jake's eyes widen at the realization.

"You're joking, right?" He scoffs. "You really wanna end a perfectly fine relationship over some petty bullshit like this?"

"The fact that you think we're having a perfectly fine relationship even though we've just been arguing about you blatantly lying to me, says more than enough. I've already made up my mind, I'm sorry."

You watch as a scowl makes its way on his face and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Fine. Do as you want. Just don't come crawling back to me when you finally grow up."

"Oh, don't hold your breath, babe. Goodbye, Jake."

PARK SUNGHOON

You jerk in your place when you feel Sunghoon's warm hands on your knees. You didn't even notice him walking into the bedroom, way too absorbed in crying a goddamn river of tears. He's understood his mistake merely couple minutes after you've left him in the living room.

"YN," he starts quietly but quickly gets shut down when you shake your head, hiding your face in your hands as another sob leaves your throat. He swallows loudly before trying again, "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Please, leave me alone for now," you whine out through a clenched throat. You pull away from your hands to look at him kneeling down in front of you.

Sunghoon lifts his hand up to wipe your wet face with his sleeve. "Just hear me out, okay? I didn't mean it, darling. I shouldn't have said that."

"Then why did you?"

"I- I don't know. I was just having a tough time at work and I just let it happen," he tries to explain, to defend himself somehow but even he can see that the excuse is just simply not enough. "I know I went too far and you don't even understand how sorry I am about that. I really didn't mean it."

"You made me feel the most unloved I've ever felt in my entire life. Do you really think that's how a relationship is supposed to look like?" You choke out, watching as his face scrunches up with pain.

"I love you. I know I don't say it often but I do. More than you could ever imagine," he confesses, running his thumb over your cheek. "I hate myself for making you feel like I don't."

"I don't know if I can forgive you yet, Hoon," you say, trying not to show any emotions as his face visibly drops. "I need some time to think it all over."

"I understand." His voice gets quieter and he backs away from you slightly, giving you some space. You try to ignore how you instantly start missing the warmth of his touch on your skin. "Take all the time you need. I'll wait for as long as I have to, love."

KIM SUNOO

A knock on your door wakes you out of your thoughts. With a sigh, you go to open it, already knowing who's standing outside.

When your face shows up instead of the wooden surface, Sunoo finally allows himself to breathe again. "YN," he starts, straightening his posture a little. "Can I come inside?"

You shake your head, clenching your fingers on the door. "No, I don't think so."

"Look, I'm sorry for not believing you. It was wrong of me, I know that. I haven't slept all night because all I could think about was you."

You press your lips tightly at his confession. "Do you know what's my biggest issue with this entire situation? The fact that even after I explained myself, you still wouldn't believe me. You still chose to believe her words over mine. That hurt the most, you know?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats with guilt written all over his face. "Let me fix this, please. I swear I'll stop hanging out with her. Just don't leave me."

"But it was never about you being friends with her, Sunoo, don't you get it?" You run your hand through your hair in an attempt to not blow up on him right there and then. "The problem isn't you having a girl best friend, it's you not trusting me! I couldn't care less that you spend time with her because I never doubted your loyalty to me. You accusing me of some stupid shit with Sunghoon only proved that you don't feel the same way about me."

"That's not true."

You let out an unamused snort. "Oh but it is. I'm sorry but I just can't see this going anywhere from here."

"How can you be so okay with ending a year long relationship just like that?" Sunoo asks, upset with your solemn behavior. "Looks like I must've meant nothing to you."

"Why are you trying to turn the tables again? God, you're unbelievable!" You finally raise your voice. "Stop trying to make everything about you, when it's clear that you're the one who fucked up the most, Sunoo. You're not the victim and I'm not the villain in here!"

"Stop shouting at me," he scowls at you.

"I wouldn't have to yell if you weren't so goddamn infuriating," you bite back harshly. "I think we've said all that needed to be said now. Go home, Sunoo."

You shut the door right in his face and walk back to your living room, not looking back even once.

YANG JUNGWON

"Hey, are we okay?" Jungwon asks you quietly as you sit side by side in a train, the both of you going back from school.

Even though you haven't spoken to him much ever since the two of you met up at the train station, you didn't shy away from any of his touches or other forms of affection. You haven't mentioned yesterday's argument either which only sent Jungwon's mind into an even bigger havoc.

Your head is pressed against the window as you nod, lazily tracing some pattern on the glass. "I think so."

He sighs and finds your fingers with his, intertwining them together hesitantly. Your lack of displeasure encourages him a little more, so he starts caressing the skin on your hand with his thumb.

"It was never my intention to upset you, love. I didn't mean to hurt you like that," he finally addresses the problem.

Turning your face to his, you look right into his sorry eyes. You sigh, feeling a little better about the argument after spending a whole night thinking about it. So you smile at him weakly and say, "I know."

"Can you forgive me?"

"I know you meant well and you only want the best for me but some of the things you said really hurt me, Won," you admit, looking back down at your lap.

You feel Jungwon shifting in his seat and moving closer to you, raising your intertwined hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'm so so sorry," he apologises, remorse nearly dripping from his voice. "I know it was uncalled for. I don't actually think any of that about you, I just let the frustration speak through me yesterday, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you whisper.

"No, it's not. I was cruel and unfair towards you." You take a glance at him again and notice how his eyes are looking for yours desperately. "I just love you a lot and it hurts me to hear somebody speaking to you in such way. And yes, you said she's always like that and she doesn't mean to be offensive but I still think you should talk to her about that, love."

"I will," you reassure your boyfriend, squeezing his hand slightly. "I've thought about that a lot yesterday and I admit that she can get pretty out of line sometimes. I'll try to tell her that the next time I see her."

Jungwon smiles down at you, feeling proud of you finally taking a step forward into becoming more confrontational.

"I love you so much," he says again and you get lost for a second in his sparkly eyes. "And I'm really sorry for what I said."

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh in content. "Apology accepted."

NISHIMURA RIKI

It took couple good hours before Niki's stubborn mind finally allowed him to realize his mistake. With a heart heavy with guilt, he quietly closes the front door behind him and takes off his shoes. Passing the living room to go to the bedroom, he stops dead in his tracks as he notices the TV being still turned on silently. Niki turns around and his gaze instantly falls on your sleeping figure on the couch.

He crouches down in front of you, heart dropping the second he spots your glistening from tears cheeks. Niki lets out a heavy sigh as he snatches the folded blanket laying on the headrest of the couch, and engulfs you with the plush fabric securely. Then he slides into the empty space behind you and sneaks his arms around your middle, pulling your back into his chest closely.

You wake up by the feeling of his warm lips pressing right below your ear - the place that's always been your weak spot.

"Niki?" You ask quietly as you turn around and lay chest to chest with your boyfriend.

He swipes your hair away from your dim eyes. "You shouldn't be sleeping on the couch, you're gonna hurt your back."

The silence doesn't last long as the both of you speak at the same time, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

You look at each other in confusion before Niki chokes out, "Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong, I know you're just worried."

"Yeah but maybe I shouldn't have pushed you this much either. I never meant to be overbearing," you stumble out, looking everywhere but into his eyes.

Niki scoffs quietly and pulls you closely to him, kissing your forehead. "You know that's not true. I've been really frustrated with work lately and it was stupid of me to take it all out on you. I shouldn't have and I'm sorry."

"It's not the first time you've done that, you know?" You mumble into his t-shirt, sniffling slightly as you feel you're starting to get emotional again. "You always push me away once something starts bothering you."

"I know," he whispers as he slips his fingers underneath your shirt and caresses your back soothingly. "I feel like an idiot for blowing you off like this. I'll try start talking to you more from now on, I promise."

You hum and lift your head to press a kiss to his jawline. "I really only mean to help you. We'll work on your communication, alright?"

"Together?" He breathes out.

'Together."

a/n: guys the way i almost folded and wrote them all happy endings 💀💀 i literally couldn't decide if i wanted yn to forgive hoon or not so i left the ending kinda open so that you guys can handle him the way you want to lmao

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19, @l0ver1ki

taglist: @byu @hwabang @choclate32 @kkawsomeness24 @nobodyshallenter @sunsunl0ver @hiqhkey @mimimovv @iraa567 @nes-caf @maybemiko @neptunetododeku @aureliaxuuu @1004bangchan @tobiosbbyghorl @rosie-rosem @kiroosan @ramenoil @wonwushu @redfieldposts @lunacrtk @marvelahsobx @opheliaas-stuff @dylanswifeyp @hydroyakshaluvr69 @ranieannbalean14 @haechxnnie @heeseungssidechick @lolilkkk @hoon0logy @iadorenaki @chaechae-23 @jhopesucker (so many of you guys won't tag no matter how much i try so im sorry but idk what im doing wrong help :/)

[amhrosina]

please i need more miguel smut. you’re single-handedly the best Miguel writer i’ve found.

Miguel with an oral obsession? Maybe a thing with over-marking?

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: here's a literal porn drabble that i couldn't get out of my head once i got this ask lol i have gotten a huge influx of requests so im going to be working my way through those over the next few days, also forcing everyone ive ever met to see the spiderverse movie with me, hope you enjoy!

warnings: oral fixation, oral (fem receiving), it is literally ALL smut, edging, overstimulation, squirting, biting kink, let me know if i missed any!

Smut directly under the cut!

“Shh, shh, shh, cariño. You can do it. Give me another one, honey.”

Miguel’s face was contorted into a mask of pure concentration. He held a predatory gaze on the slickness between your thighs, pumping two fingers in and out of your tight cunt, which hadn’t stopped clenching around him since your second orgasm. You had lost count, blissed out on the euphoria of Miguel’s tongue and fingers working together harmoniously to undo you, but you had to be nearing four or five by now, a feat you were sure he would let go straight to his ego. 

“I c-can’t.” You stuttered, momentarily allowing your exhaustion to catch up with you. You sunk into the comforter, squeezing your eyes closed. “‘ts too much.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You sure about that? You want me to stop, honey?” He began to pull his fingers out of you at a slow, tortuous pace, brushing the soft spot deep inside your pussy, enticing a choked moan from your throat.

You frantically shook your head, nearly in tears as you cried out. “No, no, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“That’s what I thought.” He grinned up at you before pressing a fleeting kiss to your clit, sending a spasm of pleasure directly up your spine. You arched off the bed, only to be shoved back down by Miguel’s thick, muscled shoulders. “You’re so wet, baby.”

His gaze had grown lusty again, and you nearly came from the look on his face alone. Mesmerized, completely enamored with the sight in front of him, he licked his lips before diving forward, connecting his mouth to your pussy for what you hoped wasn’t the last time of the evening.

The effect was immediate, pleasure shooting throughout your body, a dilating heat building deep in your core. His fingers were less intense, more focused on working with his tongue to coax the heat forward. Your thighs, which were considerably damp from your immense pleasure, shook with overstimulation against Miguel’s head. 

“Oh.” You breathed, sucking in a large breath. 

“Let me see your eyes, baby.” He purred, circling your clit with his dexterous tongue. “Wanna see them when you come, okay?”

You nodded, agreeing with him before he could finish his sentence. You barely heard him, so desperate to come that you would have agreed to just about anything coming out of his mouth. Almost immediately, his words slipped away from your mind. Your eyes slid closed, lost in the pleasure coursing throughout your body, and only opened again when the sharp prick of his fangs dug into your inner thigh.

“Miguel!” His name left your mouth in a combination of a moan and sob. He was licking the fresh wound, cleansing the ache, but staring at you intently as he did so.

“What did I just say?” He kissed the mark, but refused to return to his previous task of licking your soaked cunt.

“I-uh.” You blinked at him, trying your hardest to sort through the last five minutes in your mind, which was an exceptionally difficult task considering how close you’d been to coming all over his face moments before. “Um.” You added, unhelpfully.

His eyebrows twitched, watching your desperation grow as he continued his refusal to move. “You don’t remember?”

You shook your head, whimpering slightly when his deep sigh fanned his breath across your cunt. He smirked a little, shaking his head again.

“Hmm.” He said before tilting his chin and biting into a more sensitive patch of skin on your inner thigh. Euphoria blazed through your body, rising almost to the peak you were so desperate to reach. You were on the crux of an earth shattering orgasm, it was right there, but Miguel pulled his mouth away from the mark, smiling widely when you outright sobbed. 

He did it again, and again, and again, edging you closer and closer to the brink before pulling away. He had to be running out a space, you thought deliriously as he sunk his fangs into your skin again. Panting moans echoed across the room. This wasn’t something you did often - Miguel almost never allowed himself to indulge - but when you did, it was euphoria like you’d never experienced before. You were high on the obscenity of it all, and the blown out pupils in his eyes were enough to tell you he was feeling it too. 

His eyes.

“My eyes! When I come!” You yelped, finally remembering the words he’d uttered fifteen minutes prior.

“I knew you had it in you.” A satisfied smirk played on his lips. “Can I make you come now, honey?”

“Please.” You begged, sheer, unrelenting desperation clear in your voice.

He began licking your clit earnestly, seemingly beyond teasing or taunting you. His priority had shifted from building the fire in your core to fueling it. His fingers worked seamlessly with his tongue, pumping in and out of the tight hole with such precision, you were convinced he was born to be between your legs. 

“Oh, God,” you gasped, clutching at Miguel’s shoulders, “I’m so c-close.”

“Mmm, I know, baby.” He hummed against your clit, “Doing so good for me. Look so pretty like this.” 

You shuttered against him, trying your best to keep your eyes open and on him, though you were both so far gone at this point, you didn’t think it mattered. The fire in your belly had begun to spread, up, up, up, until every part of you was warm. Your orgasm came hurtling after it, shocking your system into euphoria, and you could do nothing but ride it out on Miguel’s tongue. 

Seconds or minutes went by - time was tricky when you were this blissed out - but you finally came to, coated in sweat and panting heavily. Miguel was grinning wildly from between your legs, and as the Earth righted itself again, you realized how incredibly damp he looked. 

“Oh. My. God.” You muttered, eyes widening with the realization of what you’d just done. “I didn’t mean to! How did- What did I- I’m so sorry!”

You’d never seen Miguel so elated.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He stated firmly, nuzzling against your thighs. “You magnificent creature. We’re doing that again as soon as you can handle it.”

You shook with anticipation, unsure if Miguel would ever let you leave your bed again. You didn’t think you minded if he didn’t. 

Tag List:

@foxglove-grove @anthonymackiehasmyheart @khaleesihavilliard @paranoia666-blog1 @minnerra @shibble @mageneire @reypolaris @lavnderluv @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @chaoticevilbakugo @weasleybuns @brookiecookiez0

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Trying

Summary: You and Javi are trying for your first baby. The two of you can't help but be excited for future baby Peña, even they don't exist yet

Word Count: 1.3K

Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader (No use of y/n)

Warnings: Allusions to smut, breeding kink, talks of starting a family/stopping birth control, being so soft and in love I am physically ill, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

A/N: HELLO IT'S ME AGAIN. Here's a cute lil drabble about these two bc I cannot get them out of my head and I love them more than life itself and it's FINE 😭🫠 I'm never getting over Javi and Osita and their cute lil family, and I'm not sorry about it!!!! Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll, sorry for the mistakes

“I think this is the one.” 

“Javi, you have thought that every time we’ve had sex in the past 3 weeks is gonna be the one that gets me pregnant.” You laughed, giving your husband a playful roll of your eyes as you rested your head on his bare chest, your naked bodies blissfully tangled in the sheets of your bed. 

A little less than a month ago, now married and your new house finally finished, you and Javi had ultimately reached your agreed upon point of actually trying for a baby and starting your family together. Even though your doctor had told you it could take up to two months for you to get pregnant after stopping your birth control for good, Javi was more than happy to aid in the cause of doing everything he could to help you beat those odds. 

“I know, I’m- Fuck, I’m just really excited.” Javi beamed, draping his arm across your waist, gently taking his broad palm and placing it on your stomach, softly rubbing circles on your skin with his thumb. 

You couldn’t help but feel your heart burst with how thrilled Javi was at even just the idea of being a dad, your cheeks growing warm and soft at the love he already had for your baby that may or may not even exist yet.

At this point, you were honestly convinced that Javi was more anxiously waiting your period (or hopefully, lack of period) than you were, convinced that if the two of you tried every day, sometimes more than once a day, there was no way there weren’t going to be two pink lines on your pregnancy test at the end of the month. 

“You know there’s no baby in there yet, right?” You giggled, gesturing down to Javi’s hand, now placing yours over it, intertwining your fingers together. 

“Could be.” Javi smirked, pressing a soft kiss into your messy hair, making you giggle as he pulled you in closer. “I hope there is.” 

“Well obviously I do too, ya dork.” You smiled, letting out a quiet sigh as you nestled your body closer to his. Javi perked up at your exhale, looking down at you with his sweet, doe eyes, a twinge of concern spreading across his face at your heavy breath. 

“You okay, Osita?”

“Yeah, it’s just- fuck, it’s crazy to think that I’m literally gonna grow a tiny human inside me. That we’re gonna be parents. I don’t know, that it’s not just gonna be the two of us, well, the three of us,” You snickered, gesturing over to a grumbling Bear laying sound asleep on your bedroom floor, “hopefully soon. I just- I’m really happy, Javi. Thank you for wanting to give me a family. I love you so much.” 

You couldn’t help but let happy tears well in your eyes, letting out a few soft sniffles as you wiped the wetness dripping down your cheeks with the back of your hand, laughing between your crying as you tried to compose yourself. 

“God, I’m not even pregnant yet and I’m already an emotional mess. Sorry baby, I don’t know what got into me but guess I’m feeling extra sappy tonight.” You huffed, brushing away the last few tears still pooling at your eyelids, waiting for Javi’s response until you heard the sounds of quiet sobs next to you, echoing the ones that had just left your mouth moments ago. “Javi… Baby, are you crying?” You cooed, laughing empathetically at your husband’s teary state, looking like he was crying harder than you had been. 

“Shut up…” He mumbled, quickly trying to wipe his wet, red face, doing his best to downplay the absolute wreck the thought of being a dad and having a family with you made him. He gave you another little shake in his broad grasp, making the both of you giggle out the rest of your joyful tears. “It makes me really happy, too. I never thought I was ever gonna get a chance to have all this. For a long time I just- I didn’t think it was gonna be in the cards for me, and as much as it hurt, I learned how to be okay with it. Thank you for wanting to give me a family. I’m so thankful for you. For everything. Te amo mucho, hermosa.” 

“Jesus, Jav, you’re gonna make me cry again!” You laughed, your eyes starting to water as you stared up at your sweet husband, wondering how in the world you had managed to get so goddamn lucky. 

“Sorry.” He sighed, planting another tender kiss on your forehead, bringing his hand to cup your cheek, cradling your jaw as his thumb wiped away the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“You really think I’m already pregnant?” You couldn’t help but beam, both of your faces lighting up at the thought of a tiny baby Peña already starting to make a home in your belly for the next nine months. 

“Even if you’re not, at this rate I think it would be impossible for you to not be sometime soon.” The two of you laughed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at Javi’s persistent need to prove that he was stronger than the lasting effects of your birth control and win out his own personal bet that you’d be pregnant after your first month of trying. “What do you think it’s gonna be?” 

“What? You mean the baby that may or may not be growing inside me right now?” You teased, raising a curious eyebrow at Javi. “Well, there’s a 50/50 chance it could be either, ya goof. But if you’re asking me what I hope it is, besides happy and healthy, obviously, I don’t know… growing up with 3 brothers and spending my whole life around them and their friends, I feel like I would be okay at raising a boy. But there’s a part of me that really really hopes it ends up being a girl.” 

“I really hope it’s a girl, too.” Your head perked up at Javi’s comment, tilting it up to see the big, goofy grin spread across his face. “I’d obviously be happy with either, but I just- God, I just always picture little mini versions of you running around our house and it makes me so happy. I hope that if we have daughters they end up just like you.” 

“You want more tiny, sarcastic assholes following you around all day? You are a brave man, Javier Peña.” You snorted, Javi rolling his eyes at your comment and your inability to stay serious for more than 30 seconds. 

“Pendejo. I’m being serious, Hermosa. You’re smart and beautiful and independent, and I know you’ll be such a good mom regardless, but I don’t know… I know you’d raise our girls to be just like you. Perfect little versions of their momma.” 

“You know those little girls are gonna have you wrapped around their finger, right? You can barely say no to the dog when he looks at you, let alone an actual baby.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Javi sighed, wrapping his arms around you, flipping your back flat against the mattress, your chest caged to his as he peppered ticklish kisses across your face and neck, making you squeal and squirm in delight, slowly working his way down your body. “But for now…” He smirked, his lips pressing hot and heavy along your skin, “might as well make sure I do everything I can to make sure that’s a bridge we cross sooner rather than later, huh?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You snickered, throwing your head back against your pillow as his kisses traveled lower and lower, his fingertips gripping into the meat of your thighs with a devilish grin growing from cheek to cheek. “I love you so much, Jav.” 

“I love you too, Osita. Let’s make you a Momma.” 

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What Did You Take?

A One For The Road Bonus Chapter

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 9: Sex Pollen

Summary: Cecil took... something.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, swearing, talk of drunks, sex pollen, flesh lights, jacking off, p in v sex, oral (afab! receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1556

You answer Cecil’s call almost instantly. He was one of the few people who preferred calling (or video chatting) over messaging, always said he liked to hear your voice. 

You liked to tease him that really it was because then he could make sure he was speaking to the correct person, and hadn’t accidentally sent a saucy pic (his dick) to the wrong contact (poor Harry one too many times).

“Hey Cec,” you lean down, grabbing a tin of soup and putting it into your trolley. 

“Hey,” He draws out the word, his voice soft and breathy. He was definitely jerking off. 

“I’m food shopping.” You say with a smile on your face, “Literally grabbing tins.”

“Uh huh,” he swallows, the sound clicking. 

You frown a little, sure Cecil had a big libido, but you were sure even he couldn’t find you picking up ingredients that interesting. 

“What you doing Cec?” You tease.

“Jerking off.” 

“I got that.” 

He whines, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. “I got the fleshlight between the sofa cushions and I’m…” he moans, “Fuck, it feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” You grin. “Had to call and tell me about it?” 

He hums an affirmative. “I… I can’t…”

You wait a beat, listening to his heavy breathing. 

“I can’t get off.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not working, like, it feels good, so good, but I can’t get to the end.” He whimpers. “I, I took…”

“What did you take Cecil?” Worry spikes into your chest. 

“It’s this… thing,” he always was so helpful with descriptions. “It’s, so it’s meant to make you super horny and keep going,” he groans and you hear a particularly wet thrust in the background, “and I thought because we’re hanging out later that it would be good for you if I was… if I could just keep fucking you and so I took it and fuck.” He sobs.

“Cecil?” 

“It worked so quickly and I feel so hot, and I wanted to just come and take the edge off and I can’t.” His voice breaks at the end.

You’re already at the self-checkout, quickly paying for your items so you can get the hell out of there and over to him. “When did you take it?”

“Ummm,” he groans, the sound of his thrusts growing louder, “about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” 

“And twenty.”

“Cecil! Fuck,” you grab your shopping and head to your car, how long could someone have an erection before they needed to go to the hospital. “So this is like super Viagra?” You say as you sit down and fasten your seatbelt. 

“Sort of.” He groans, “God, talking to you helps actually,” he whines, “Feel so close.” 

“Where did you get this anyway?” You pull out of the parking lot. 

“Benny.”

“Benny?” You swear. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Noo,” Cecil whines, “He’s not that bad, he always gives me good deals, a friend discount.” 

“Cecil, he sold you that weed that had roofies in it.”

“That was an accident-”

“And that ritalin and-”

“Can we not talk about him,” Cecil gasps, “please, I was really close.” 

You pause, “My voice helps?” 

“Oh god, so much.” He whimpers, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m on my way over.” 

He moans loudly, shivering. “Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, need to see you so bad.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a second can I?” You drive through the light on amber. 

“You can’t.”

“Or you’ll go and take weird drugs that could put you in the hospital.”

“You could, um,” he groans deeply, “put me in you or something, I’m sorry, there’s an innuendo there somewhere, I can’t get to it.” 

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.” You tease, trying to make light of the situation and ease your slowly building tension. 

He snorts through moans, and then whines pitifully. “I can’t come.” A little sob shakes through him. “I need to so, so, so bad. It hurts.”

 “Fuck Cec.” 

You make it to his house in record time, using your key to open the front door and practically throwing yourself inside. 

Cecil is on you before you even get a chance to call out a greeting. 

“You came,” he sobs, he’s naked, his skin flushed and feverish. His heavy cock bobs between his legs as he moves, slick from the lube he’s been using.

“Of course I did,” you stroke his cheeks, looking into his dilated eyes. “I told you I was on the way.” You say soothingly, he still hasn’t become used to you not stringing him along. 

“Thank youuu,” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you messily, slipping his tongue into your mouth eagerly. Drinking in your air like it was his only source. 

“Cec, Cec,” You manage to pull back, your hands on his cheeks.

He whines pitifully as your lips leave his. 

“We should go to the hospital.”

“No, please,” He shakes his head rapidly, “Please, let’s, please, I need you so bad, let’s just fuck and try.”

“Fuck and try,” you snort despite your worry and he grins, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, yes, try.” He drags you into the living room, yanking at your clothing and kissing your neck. 

“Cec, maybe we shouldn’t in the living room, I mean, Harry’ll-”

He lets out a whine of frustration, taking his mouth off your skin only so that he can pull off your top and undo your bra. He licks your chest eagerly, focusing on one and then the other, his eyes rolling back as he sucks.

You gasp, your fingers instinctively sliding through his hair as he works.

He slips his hands down to your hips, hastily undoing your trousers and pulling them down to your knees. 

“Cec,” you bite your lip, unsure if you should really be doing this and not taking him to the emergency room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He drags you onto the floor, finishes stripping you bare in a matter of seconds. 

He’s everywhere, all over, licking and sucking and moaning in your ear as he squeezes and pinches and impatiently pushes his fingers inside. 

You shiver at the intrusion, a little gulp escaping your lips. You shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much, having him so desperate and needy for you. 

Cecil whines, gasping and rutting against your leg as he curls his fingers and strokes your walls. “Fuck, oh god, oh god, oh god.”

You don’t even think he realises he’s speaking anymore, just letting whatever thoughts he has fall from his lips. 

Pleasure cracks up his spine, makes his vision spin. He groans, bucking his hips faster as he buries his head between your thighs and sucks your clit into his mouth greedily. 

You swallow, desperately grabbing at him as your body moves with his, chasing after the sensation he’s lavishing upon you. 

He whines, whimpers, so, so close he can almost taste it, but still not close enough. He pulls away from you quickly, muttering apologies at your huff of frustration at the loss. 

“Can I? Can I? Can I?” He kneels, taking himself in hand and notches himself at your core, the words fluttering out of his mouth in such a wanton mess they are nearly indistinguishable from each other. 

You barely get a chance to nod before he’s pushing in, trying to slow the rapid buck of his hips by squeezing the base of his cock. 

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck.” He sobs, sounding even whinier than usual. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, feels so nice.” He rocks further in, pressing so wonderfully as he stretches you wide. 

“Cecil,” you bite your lip as he just sinks down, thrusting shallowly as he bottoms out and presses his chest to yours. 

“Yeah?” He sounds floaty, lost in the sensation as he rolls and rocks, keeping his length as deep inside as possible while he rubs the base of his cock against your bundle of nerves in a way that has your mind short-circuiting. 

He feels so good like his body was made to fit inside and please you. You grab at his biceps, his curls, moaning against his lips as his fingers dig into your skin in desperation. 

“Fuck, baby, please, ah, please can you squeeze my neck, please,” he splutters, his eyes screwed up so tight. “Gonna come, please, need to, I’ll take care of you after, I promise, I promise, I-”

You put your hand on his throat, a warm strong pressure, barely squeezing, more there to ground him than anything. And he sobs. 

He ruts twice, frantic. His voice rises to an impressive pitch as he comes deep, his orgasm washing over him and robbing him of all other thoughts. 

You expect him to collapse on top of you, nuzzle into your chest. 

But he doesn’t.

He keeps moving, keeps bucking, causing pleasure to race along your nerves.

“Cec?” You bite back a moan, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

“Fuck, that was so good, so good, fuck.” He grinds his hips, picking up the pace as he fucks his still very erect cock into you. 

“Still hard, gonna come again,” he whines, all high pitched and breathless. “Gonna make you come with me this time.” He bites his lip, looking down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes. 

It was going to be a long night.

Thank you for reading!

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