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inkedinshadows · 2 days ago

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The Path To Healing

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A glimpse into different moments of Azriel's life: from his childhood trauma to the physical healing, from his struggles and his acceptance to the beginning of his mental healing journey.

Warnings: angst, self-hate, self-consciousness, violence and blood, mentions of torture, language, fingering (brief)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: I might or might not have cried while writing some parts of this. I focused only on Azriel's hands, and I'm sure I only scratched the surface of what his trauma is. I'm nowhere close to an expert on any of this, but I tried my best and hopefully did it justice. @azrielappreciationweek

Pain was all he knew.

His eyes hurt from crying, and he desperately wanted to rub them, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because his hands… His hands…

More tears poured down his already puffed cheeks, and his cries turned into a choked sound—sobs that tore through his chest and shook his little body, his wings a dead weight on his back.

“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she cupped his face. “It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, baby.”

Azriel didn't know how to believe her. It seemed to him like nothing could ever be okay again. He couldn't feel his hands anymore—they had been replaced by a blinding pain that reached up to his elbows. All he could see when he looked down was a red splotch, too red to be normal.

When his father had heard his screams, he’d called the healers. By then, it was too late, and the damage was already done. But his father had merely given his half-brothers a disappointed look and dumped Azriel in his mother's care, as if he had become even more of a burden than before. He didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

His mom began to hum a lullaby, but Azriel could barely hear it over his sobs and whimpers. She took one of his shaking hands in hers as gently as she could, touching his marred skin when strictly necessary, but even that drew a shriek from him.

“I know, baby,” his mother whispered as she began wrapping his hand in new strips of clean fabric. “I know it hurts. But I need to bandage it so it can get better, okay?”

Azriel tried to hold back his cries of pain as she worked. He tried to focus on her face and the lullaby instead, but he kept praying through it all—to the Cauldron, to the Mother, to whoever was listening—that it would be over soon. Just like he had begged and prayed while his half-brothers had burned him, but no one had come then.

Now, though, his silent prayers were answered.

“There you go, my love,” his mom said softly, placing a kiss on his forehead. “All done. See? Does it hurt a bit less now?”

He looked down to find his hands covered in white linen. The tight bandages applied just enough pressure to reduce the pain, even if only by just a fraction. He met his mother's concerned gaze and nodded weakly, watching as the corner of her lips twitched upward. It didn't help much, though, and tears still streamed down his face.

��Come here,” she whispered, gathering his shaking body in her arms and holding him close to her chest. “My precious boy. You'll get through this, Az. I promise.”

Azriel buried his face in her neck and cried until he was too exhausted to do even that. But his mom never stopped singing him an old Illyrian lullaby, rocking him back and forth as if he were a newborn baby.

She kept going long after he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Azriel was staring at his hands, at the ridges of his new scars. He knew he should be practicing, but he could only stare.

“What is it, sweetie?”

His mother came up beside him. His father had allowed her to see him a bit more over the last few months, not wanting to spend money on healers more than once every other week when they came to check on him and his progress.

Azriel turned his hands over, now looking at the backs of them. He still wasn’t used to seeing them like this. How much time had he spent looking at them? During those long hours in his cell with no light, he had thought about them endlessly.

Sometimes, he could swear the darkness whispered in his ear, soothing his mind until he finally fell asleep.

“They're ugly,” he said. His voice was flat, as if he was simply stating a fact. Because that's what they were to him—ugly, ruined, useless. Always shaking and itching.

His mother's soft hands enveloped his smaller ones in a gentle hold. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, meeting her tender, reassuring gaze. Even at his young age, he knew she loved him. His stepmother never looked at him like that, on the rare occasions she even bothered to acknowledge his existence.

“Your hands are not ugly, my child,” his mom assured him. Her tone was calm, but there was a new resolution etched onto her features. “They've just been through a lot.”

Azriel shook his head. “They're ugly,” he insisted. “No one else has hands that look like this. They're full of scars and cuts and…”

His voice trailed off as his mom extended her wings behind her. A twinge of pain crossed her face, and she could only unfold them a few inches, but it was enough for Azriel to see the twin long scars running down their length. He didn't know how she got them, but she once told him she couldn't fly because of them. He’d felt an odd sense of relief at that, knowing his mom couldn't fly either—that her blood, like his, urged her to take off and roam the skies, yet neither of them could.

“Do you think my wings are ugly, Az?” she asked. She still spoke with that soft tone, but it was now tinged with firmness.

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No,” he answered. “No, they're not ugly.”

“But they have scars. They're ruined and useless.” How had she known those were the words he used for his own hands? Had he said them out loud? “What are wings for, if not for flying? Yet I can't fly anymore.”

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. “Mom, no,” he said, decisive and unyielding. “Your wings are beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Her face softened, a smile blooming on her lips as she gently squeezed his hands. “Then your hands are beautiful too.” She lifted them to her lips, kissing each one. “Think of them not as reminders of pain, but of strength. You've suffered a lot, but you're stronger. You're healing. And one day, it won't even hurt anymore.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment. “Is it really like that?”

“Of course, baby,” she reassured him, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair.

He knew she was lying. He saw the pain on her face when she moved her wings. They still hurt sometimes. But he believed her anyway, because he needed to.

His mother let go of his hands and picked up the pen he had discarded just a few minutes ago. “Do you think you can practice a little longer?”

Azriel didn't want to. His fingers had gone stiff earlier, the constant itching even stronger now. But he didn't want his hands to be useless, so he took the pen from her.

Almost two sheets of paper were covered with just one word, repeated over and over. His own name. Easy enough to write, yet the letters were crooked and shaky, the ink smeared where his hand had accidentally trailed over it.

With a sigh, Azriel set the pen on the paper and tried his best to keep his hand steady as he resumed the exercise.

~~~~~~

Azriel really wanted to get laid.

There was no other way to say it. Every time he heard Cassian and Rhysand talk about a new girl they had slept with, he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to experience it too—to know what it felt like to have that kind of connection with someone and not have to resort to his own hand whenever he couldn't ignore his need.

But he had always been too shy to approach the pretty girls his brothers chatted up so easily. His hands did nothing to help his confidence.

Tonight, though, was bonfire night. Organized twice a year, it was held on the Spring and Autumn Equinox to celebrate the new season. And this year, Azriel had every intention of going home with a girl.

His brothers were laughing and pushing each other as they walked through the muddy streets of Windhaven. He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying—something about their earlier fight during training. No, Azriel’s mind was already focused on his plan.

He would keep a safe distance from the fire, where no incidents could happen. But he would scan the crowd of Illyrians for a female who caught his interest, and when he found her, he would approach her, talk a little, and then ask if she wanted to go somewhere more private.

Simple enough.

He was a warrior in training, after all. He had seven Siphons. He was a Shadowsinger.

He had nothing to fear from interacting with girls.

Yet, he couldn't recall the last time he’d started a conversation with a female. In the ten years he'd been at Windhaven, it had probably happened only with Rhys's mother. But she didn't count.

Someone bumped into Azriel, and, lost in his thoughts as he was, he almost fell to the ground. He managed to flare his wings to steady himself, glaring at Cassian as he regained his balance.

“Sorry about that,” Cassian said, though his snicker didn't make him sound particularly sincere. “I've been talking to you for two minutes, but you didn't hear a single word. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbled, folding his wings behind him again. “Maybe you're just not worth listening to.”

Cassian gasped audibly, clutching his chest in mock heartache as a group of children sprinted by, headed for the square where the first booms of laughter and echoes of chattering rang out.

“Don't worry, Az,” Rhys chimed in before their brother could come up with a retort. “You'll get your first taste of sex tonight.”

Azriel shrugged off the hand Rhysand had placed on his shoulder. “Don't look in my mind,” he nearly growled, checking his mental shields just to be sure.

Both his brothers halted their steps and stared at him, twin shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I didn't,” Rhys said. “But thank you for confirming my suspicions.”

Cassian nudged him with an elbow, already teasing him about girls and first times and wingspans. With a snort, Azriel shoved him away and continued toward the bonfire, leaving the other two behind to push each other around, their chuckles chasing him down the street.

How they had guessed what he was up to, he didn't know. He’d been careful not to tell them, knowing their reaction would consist of snickers and jabs that he was in no mood for.

As he turned the corner, the square came into view. Just like every year, the bonfire stood in its center, rising several feet high and adorned with little homemade trinkets meant to bring good luck and a prosperous season when burned.

They would light it soon.

The square was already packed with people when Azriel reached it. Children ran around chasing each other, their laughs and screams echoing into the night. Warriors gathered in small groups, swords on their back and knives at their thighs or hips, not letting their guard down even during a festivity.

And then there were the females. Most sat together in a corner, chatting idly and glancing at the children from time to time. But some of them—the younger ones, the ones around Azriel's age—strolled in groups of two or three.

How was he supposed to approach them if they were always together? It was difficult enough when they were alone.

Azriel spotted Cassian and Rhys from the corner of his eye and moved deeper into the crowd, choosing to stand on the opposite side of the square from them. The last thing he needed was for his brothers to make fun of him.

Someone shouted a warning, and a moment later, the pyre was lit. Azriel flinched as flames erupted, pressing himself closer to the wall behind him. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat of the fire, warming his skin and casting a flickering glow all around.

He shut it out. He shut out the memory of what fire could do to flesh, the smell of burned skin, the screams and cries of a terrified eight-year-old boy. The shadows suddenly swirled around him, brushing against his arms and neck.

Past. Gone. Gone. Just memories.

Azriel closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, letting the truth they whispered calm his racing heart.

He sensed the girl before even the darkness could murmur of her approach.

He let his shoulders slump a little and slid his hands into his pockets, assuming a more casual stance. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him from a few feet away. Her head snapped around to stare at the bonfire as soon as she realized she'd been caught staring.

Azriel couldn't suppress his smirk. He had grown accustomed to females looking his way from the moment he’d hit puberty, but it still made him feel smug every time. Never mind that they didn't approach him—or that he never approached them.

But now, though. Now he would.

Taking one last deep breath, he took a nervous step toward her. And then another. She glanced in his direction, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but one more step and Azriel was standing in front of her.

A few inches shorter than him, she didn't back away, her big brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. Her delicate face was framed by strands of wavy black hair that flowed past her shoulders, and he stopped himself before his eyes could travel downward to the curves shaping her slim body. She was pretty. Beautiful, even.

“Hi,” he said, attempting a smile. He wasn't sure it looked right.

The girl offered a small smile back. “I'm, uh… I didn't mean to stare. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It's alright.”

For a brief, awkward moment, they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Azriel realized she was waiting for him to say something more. Right.

“What's your name?” he finally asked, silently thanking the little shadow that had curled around his ear to whisper the suggestion.

“I'm Teagan.” The girl's smile widened. “And you're Azriel.”

Caught off guard, he blinked. “You know me?”

Teagan chuckled, a clear and crystalline sound that eased some of the tension in Azriel's body.

Some of it.

“I've seen you around,” she answered with a shrug. Firelight danced on her features. “There aren't many Shadowsingers here, you know. None, in fact. You're one of a kind.”

Her initial shyness seemed completely gone now. Good. That made one of them, at least. Because if her words were meant as flattery, they didn't work. Instead, they only made Azriel more nervous.

What if she had expectations? What if she started asking questions about his powers? What if she would be disappointed now that she was talking to him? What if she—

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind at the same time. “Thank you,” he said.

Too stiff. Too short. Not an acceptable answer. But he didn't know what else to say. How was he supposed to talk to a girl when he’d barely had any social interaction for the first eleven years of his life?

But Teagan must have found his awkwardness endearing, because she smiled, amusement shining in her eyes. “Aren't you going to offer me some food?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he glanced over to the few tables laid with food in one corner of the square. People were already gathering around them and filling their dishes. Cassian was there too, shamelessly flirting with a girl whose hands were already wandering over his chest.

Azriel turned back to Teagan and nodded, a shy smile forming on his face. “I am, actually.” He cleared his throat—as if it could help him sound more confident—then gestured to the tables with his head. His hands remained buried in the pockets of his coat. “Would you like to get some food?”

It came out too formal, and his posture was too rigid. And simply nodding toward the tables? Rude. How could Rhys do this so smoothly? How could Cassian be so bold and smug?

Teagan chuckled again, though. She looped her arm through Azriel's and steered him toward the food. “You've never done this before, have you?”

He almost choked. It was worse than he'd feared, then.

“No, not really… I…” His voice trailed off, and he had no idea how to recover.

She leaned in closer as they walked, and Azriel became acutely aware of just how close she was. Her body pressed against his side, and he could feel her breath on his neck now. He wanted to take her hand, or maybe even slide his arm around her waist. If only he had worn gloves, maybe he would have dared. Though he'd need to find the courage first.

“Am I the first girl you try to flirt with?” she asked, her tone teasing.

Try. Not just flirt, but try to flirt. He was failing so miserably. Maybe he should just give up and leave.

Azriel could only nod, his face a deeper shade of red than Cassian’s siphons.

“I think it's cute,” Teagan said, her big smile lighting up her pretty face. “I'm glad you chose me to be your first.”

If only she knew what kind of first Azriel hoped she would be… but judging by how things were going, he suspected they wouldn’t get that far.

“I… don't really know what I'm doing,” he admitted, unsure why he was even saying that. It probably wasn't a smart move to reveal it, but it was too late to take it back.

As they weaved through the crowd, Teagan stepped even closer to him, and in doing so, her wing brushed against Azriel’s. They both gasped, and though she smiled sheepishly, he didn’t miss the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I just wanted to be closer to you. I really think you're cute. And I appreciate your honesty.”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart thumping in his chest. He could still salvage this, maybe, so that his first interaction with a girl wouldn’t be a total failure.

As they stopped in front of the tables, he stepped back slightly to face her. “I think you’re cute too,” he said, meeting her gaze. He did his best not to sound shy or awkward. “You're very pretty.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He was about to offer her some food when a group of kids suddenly weaved through the crowd and ran by. Azriel heard them coming and tucked his wings tightly, but Teagan either noticed them too late or couldn't fold her clipped wings any further.

The children bumped into her as they sprinted past, and she sucked in a sharp breath when one of them brushed her wing. Azriel was quick to grab her elbow to steady her, and something fluttered in his chest when she smiled in thanks. But then her gaze moved to his hand, still on her arm, and her eyes widened—in horror or shock, he couldn't tell.

He pulled his hand back as fast as he could, tucking it back into his pocket.

Too late.

Teagan swallowed, and the silence that stretched between them hit Azriel as painfully as a punch to the jaw.

“So,” he said eventually, feeling beyond awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “What kind of food would—”

“I'm sorry,” she interrupted, already taking a small step back. Her eyes darted to the pocket where he’d hidden his hand before looking at him again. No warmth shone in them now. “But I forgot I had to… do something very important with my friend. Maybe another time.”

Azriel stood there, watching her turn and walk away without another glance. The rejection left him reeling. His mother could say whatever she wanted about his scars not being ugly or horrifying, but he now knew better than to believe her.

His hands balled into fists, and he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Without bothering to inform his brothers—who were probably on their way to sleep with yet another girl, since their hands were perfectly normal and unscarred—Azriel left the square. He put a few buildings between himself and the ongoing festivities before taking off to the skies.

He didn't return until long after the sun had set over the horizon.

~~~~~~

Azriel wished he could say he felt at least a bit bad for his half-brothers as Rhys and Cass threw punch after punch at their jaw and stomach. But all he felt while watching the scene unfold was a deep sense of satisfaction, which only grew with every new groan.

When Rhys had told him he needed to talk to his father for court matters, Azriel had refused to go. He had no interest in seeing his father or the rest of his family again, and Rhys had understood, asking Cassian to accompany him instead.

But Azriel had followed them. There was no reason for Cass to be there too, not when he was no good at playing courtier. He doubted Rhysand's father had told him to bring Cassian along.

Hidden in the shadows in the corner of the room, Azriel watched in silence as his brothers—his real ones, the only ones who mattered, as far as he was concerned—landed blow after blow. He knew now this was the real reason they'd come here.

Cassian had been itching for a fight from the moment they arrived and he didn't do a good job at hiding it. Azriel wasn't sure Cassian even tried to hide it. Rhys looked more composed, the perfect picture of the future High Lord dealing with minor problems of his Court. But as soon as Azriel's father had left, both of them had turned to his half-brothers with pure rage in their eyes.

One of them had been either bold or stupid enough to smirk. “How's our bastard brother doing?”

Rhysand and Cassian had both snapped. Despite being a few years older, his half-brothers didn't stand a chance. A warm feeling of affection was the only thing filling his chest as Azriel watched the two Illyrians who had taken him in, taught him how to fly, and showed him what a real family looked like, beat the shit out of whom was supposed to be his actual family.

He didn't make a sound, using his shadows to conceal even his scent. They were all too busy to pick up on it, even more so now that the metallic scent of blood filled the air, but he preferred to be careful.

Azriel didn't know exactly how much time had passed when Rhys and Cass finally relented, their chests heaving and their knuckles smeared with red. They straightened their backs, Cassian’s wings still spread in a fighting stance. Rhys, on the other hand, looked more relaxed, but his cold expression betrayed him.

“Don't you dare speak of him like that again,” Cassian snarled. His voice was just slightly breathless despite the beating he'd just given. “Especially after what you did to him.”

Azriel fought the urge to look down at his scarred hands. Being back in his father's keep was enough to stir memories he had long tried to forget. Instead, he focused on his brothers, on how much they must love him to risk hurting and threatening the sons of an Illyrian lord because of what they'd done to him.

Rhys exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian, and they turned to leave, abandoning his half-brothers on the floor. But they stood with a groan, battered and bloodied, still as arrogant as before. If not more so, now that they needed to make up for their bruised ego after being beaten so easily by a half-Illyrian and a low-born bastard.

One of them, the oldest, flared his wings as if trying to appear more intimidating. “He deserved it,” he spat.

Azriel had to stop himself from lunging forward and burying his own fist in his half-brother's stomach. He wanted to make him understand, to wave his hands in front of his face and yell at him. See this? This is what you did to me. I was eight! How could I have deserved it?

But he remained still, standing in the corner with his hands balled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

Rhysand held back Cassian as he tried to pounce on Azriel’s half-brothers. Cassian looked outraged, as if he couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to fight. But Azriel could see the expression on Rhys's face and knew his brother had something different in mind.

“You think Azriel deserved it?” he asked, his voice unnervingly calm. He looked a lot like his father now—aware that he didn't need to raise his voice or his fists for people to obey.

“Well, fortunately for you, I can't show you exactly what I think you two deserve,” Rhys continued, slowly slipping his hands into his pockets. “But I can at least give you a taste of it.”

Before anyone could move, a crack pierced the air, immediately followed by a sharp cry of pain as his half-brothers both collapsed to the ground once more. Their legs lay beneath them at strange angles, the bone of one protruding where it had pierced the skin. The scent of blood grew stronger as the white tiles turned red.

His mother would have disapproved, Azriel knew that. She believed vengeance should not be sought out, and that living well in spite of what had happened was more than enough. Perhaps she was right, and Azriel was as bad and cruel as his half-brothers, after all. But as he stood there, watching them bleed and whine and scream for a healer who didn't come, all he felt was a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that they now felt a fraction of the helplessness he had felt when they burned him.

Cassian crossed his arms, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Stop crying, boys,” he taunted. “It's not like you won't heal.”

The corner of Rhys's lips curled into a smirk. “I put a shield around the room. No one can hear you or smell the blood. I think I'll leave it in place and let you crawl out to ask for help.”

With a glance to Cassian, Rhys gestured toward the door in a silent command, and they walked out without sparing the two Illyrians another glance.

But Azriel stayed a few more moments. Just long enough to see his half-brothers try to rise, fail miserably, and fall back on the floor. When they began to crawl, using their hands to drag themselves across the floor, smearing their blood over the tiles and their clothes, Azriel smiled.

He didn't care if they were spouting insults at him and his brothers. He didn't care what kind of person that made him. The sight of his half-brothers crawling and bleeding delighted him.

With one last look at them, Azriel winnowed away, his heart full of love for the two brothers the Cauldron had blessed him with.

~~~~~~

It felt like centuries had passed since Azriel had last been this nervous around a girl. It had likely been over a hundred years, if not more, since he couldn't recall the last time he went on a date. Even longer since he’d had a genuine crush. Normally, he just approached girls, or they approached him, and things quickly escalated into a night of sex. But it was nothing more than that—just fucking.

With you, it was different.

He met you a couple of weeks ago when he walked into your little bookstore to buy a present for Nesta's birthday. You were so nice and radiant that he couldn't stop thinking about you, and he lost count of how many times he came, buying books he didn't need and asking for recommendations only to listen to you talk. And then he had finally asked you out, and your smile had lit up the whole shop as you said yes.

He was standing on the other side of the street, watching as you closed up the store for the day. Your dress flew around your legs in the evening breeze, and your hair was styled in a simple bun on your head.

Azriel smiled as you crossed the street. As usual, he had to hold back his shadows as they swirled excitedly around him. “You look lovely,” he said when you stopped in front of him.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, lowering your gaze for a second before looking at him with a smile. “You're not too bad either.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.” Offering his arm, he gestured to the street. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his, and together you strolled along the Sidra, your steps unhurried.

Conversation flowed easily, and Azriel relaxed more as you talked about everything from your job to his preference for flying over winnowing. His shadows, which had lingered around his wings, vanished completely. But then you got to the little restaurant where he had reserved a table, and he grew nervous once more.

Even with your arms linked, your focus never drifted to his hands during the walk. Your eyes were either on him or your surroundings, making it easy to forget his marred skin.

Until you sat across from him and the food arrived. There was no way now you wouldn't notice his scars, which normally wasn't a problem—he'd stopped caring about strangers' opinions years ago. But you weren't a stranger, and you weren't just another girl he wanted to fuck.

You were sweet and beautiful, and he was drawn to you in a way he hadn't experienced in decades. He didn't want you to run away from him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken you out to dinner on the first date, because now it was probably going to be the last one too.

Yet you didn't stare at his hands. You acted as if everything was normal, never commenting or asking what had happened to him. You carried on the conversation just like before, and when Azriel, hiding his distress behind a carefully crafted mask, asked you about a theater play you'd just mentioned, you launched into a passionate description of its plot and themes. His uneasiness slowly faded as he watched your eyes light up. You leaned closer over the table, so engaged in your story that Azriel found himself smiling and nodding along, only half listening, his worries about his hands momentarily forgotten.

Your voice suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, and you leaned back in your chair, tilting your head to the side. “What?” you asked with a soft smile. Before he could answer, you tensed and added, “I've done it again, haven't I? Rambling on about something you don't care about.”

Azriel shook his head, his hand itching to reach across the table and brush yours, though he held back. “Y/N,” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I do care. I asked you that question. You just had that look on your face.”

Your brow furrowed. “What look?”

“The one you have when you talk about something you like,” he answered, watching your expression grow confused for a second. “You have it when you talk about books too.”

You were quiet for a moment, and then your eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” you said slowly, but your lips twitched up in a smirk. “Did you ask for all those recommendations just to hear me talk?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart fluttered as your eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He’d forgotten having a crush could feel like this—like being a boy again. Only now he knew what to do.

He’d never been much of a talker, preferring to listen and chime in occasionally, but with you, it was easy. You had your own way of involving him, asking questions or simply waiting for him to share his thoughts. Even though you barely paused, Azriel never felt like you were hogging the attention. On the contrary, you made him more at ease.

After you left the restaurant, you went strolling through the streets of Velaris. Azriel was just about to answer your question about how fast, exactly, an Illyrian could fly when you let out a delighted squeal, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward a small bakery.

“Oh, I was waiting for this place to open!” You stopped in front of the window with a dreamy sigh before turning to look up at him. “I forgot it was today. Can we go in? Please, tell me you like pastries!”

Your enthusiasm was endearing, but Azriel couldn’t help glancing down at your hand still holding his larger, scarred one. You didn't seem to notice—or if you did, you didn’t care.

Your grip loosened slightly as you noticed the shift in his attention, but you didn't let go. “Sorry,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his face. “I got a bit carried away. Is this alright?”

He wasn't sure what to say. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak. That you had grabbed his hand without thinking was enough to leave him speechless, but what you were asking now… it wasn’t just that you weren't bothered by his scars. It was that you wanted to keep holding his hand. Azriel couldn't wrap his mind around it.

You probably misunderstood his silence because you started to pull back. He immediately held your hand tighter, gently squeezing it, as if to silently reassure you. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “I’m just…” Not used to it. “You caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“I caught the spymaster off guard?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Should I be worried? Do we need to inform the High Lord?”

Azriel shook his head with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you before he gestured toward the bakery. “Would you still like those pastries?”

Your eyes lit up, and Azriel made a mental note of how much you liked sweets. “Oh, yes, please!”

“Then let’s get you some, shall we?”

You walked past him as he held the door open for you, a grateful smile lighting up your face. Your hand remained entwined with his, and for once, Azriel didn’t feel the need to hide it.

You did not let go until he walked you home and you closed the front door behind you, and Azriel had never felt such lightness as he flew back to the House of Wind.

~~~~~~

Azriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands with a grimace on his face.

Someone had tried to infiltrate Velaris, likely sent from the Hewn City, and Azriel had been called to find out why. He could still recall the blood and the pleading whimpers. But in the end, he got the information he wanted. He always did.

At a cost.

He had long since learned to keep a cold expression, even in the face of the suffering he caused. He was used to it after centuries, and as long as it kept his city and family safe, he didn't care how cruel he had to become. Maybe it made him a horrible person, but his soul wasn't the cost.

The cost was his hands.

Even after all this time, being in the cells beneath the Hewn City was like being back in the cell in his father's mansion. He had to shut down every part of him that felt, bury those memories deep down in his mind, and remind himself that he wasn't a helpless child anymore.

He was a five-hundred-year-old warrior, and he had a job to do.

But once the job was done, and Rhys decided how to deal with the prisoner and the consequences, Azriel would go back to his room knowing he didn't have much time.

He would wash his bloodied hands, though he knew no matter how much he washed, he could never cleanse them completely. He had five centuries worth of blood on them. After they were clean, if he was lucky, like today, he had time to peel off his leathers before the inevitable happened.

The pain.

No matter how many times he’d been in those dungeons, no matter how many years had passed since he’d last been locked in his father’s cell, he still didn’t know how to stop the pain from returning.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first few times, and it was nothing compared to what he had felt while his hands were being burned and in the days after. But Azriel still gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping from him.

He tried clenching them into fists, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before he had to relax them again. His fingers were stiff as he reached for the drawer, a fresh surge of stinging pain hitting him when he pulled it open. Shadows dove in before he could and quickly whisked up a small jar of white cream. They undid the lid, and Azriel felt grateful for the dark companions that had never once left his side now more than ever.

Willing his hands to cooperate, he scooped up some of the soothing balm a healer had made for him. It always took a little while for its effect to show, but pain was an old friend he had learned to live with.

The herbal scent filled the room as Azriel did his best to spread the balm over every inch of his hands, trying to ignore the stinging itch. Scratching would only make it worse, reddening his already scarred skin until it threatened to bleed again.

He shifted to lie on the bed, wings spread beneath him. He just had to endure the ache for a few more minutes before the balm took effect, and then he could try to sleep. He needed some rest after such a long day, if only to have a clear mind when he met you the next afternoon.

As his shadows hummed in his ear the Illyrian lullaby his mother used to sing him as a child, Azriel let his eyes drift close, flexing his aching fingers every few seconds, hoping for a faster relief.

~~~~~~

Things moved slowly with you.

Neither of you wanted to rush into anything and potentially ruin what you both knew could be the beginning of something great.

You went on several dates, and some ended with him spending the night at your apartment, snuggled up in your bed, which was too small for an Illyrian. Azriel didn’t care as long as he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

But things had never gone this far.

When he came to your bookshop earlier, he had only planned to walk you home. You were tired from a long day dealing with customers, and he had to wake up early the next morning to leave for Illyria for a few days. Maybe it was the thought of not seeing you—even if only for a week—or the fact that you looked stunning in your simple dress, with strands of hair escaping from your messy bun. Whatever it was, Azriel wanted you. He needed you.

His lips parted from yours, both of you already breathing heavily. “I don't want to go home,” he murmured, his hands on your hips, twisting the thin fabric of your dress, wishing it weren't there.

“What do you want to do then?” you asked, amusement clear in your eyes. But there was desire there too, mirroring his own.

“I want to take off your dress,” he whispered, his fingers already moving to the straps on your shoulders. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Take it off.”

With deft fingers, he slid the straps down your arms, and the fabric slipped off your body, pooling around your feet. You stepped out of it, and Azriel swallowed at the sight of you clad only in your cream underwear.

“If I had known we'd be doing this, I would have worn something more enticing,” you said quietly. There was no shyness or embarrassment in your voice, as if you were simply stating a fact. You did have a point—your lingerie was simple, something you wore every day. It didn't matter to Azriel.

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “You don't need to,” he murmured. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to kiss you tenderly. “You're always stunning, sweetheart, no matter what you wear.”

You hummed, a smile playing on your lips. “Now I want to know what you think when I'm not wearing anything.”

Azriel chuckled, even as desire coiled in his groin. A part of him wanted to toss you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But most of all, he wanted to take his time exploring your body, finding every spot that made you squirm and sigh. Only after he'd thoroughly tasted you would he bury himself inside you.

“Let's find out,” he replied with a smirk, already knowing that, no matter what, you'd always be perfect in his eyes.

He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, and as he tossed it on the chair, he felt himself harden. Your breasts were full and supple, your pink nipples so inviting that he wanted to wrap his lips around them. Yet as he lifted a hand to touch you, he hesitated.

The stark contrast between your soft, smooth skin and his scarred fingers made him pause. He had touched you before, but never so intimately. How could he do that? His hands had so much blood on them. With how they looked, it felt only fitting he would use them for horrible things—to hurt people. Not to touch the wonderful girl he was falling for. How could he be so selfish as to sully you like that? You deserved so much better than him. Someone who didn’t torture and kill for a living, who didn’t have a dark past still haunting him.

Someone good.

He took a step back, lowering his hand.

“Azriel,” you called gently. There was no sign of judgment or disappointment in your voice. You just wanted him to look at you.

Slowly, his eyes met yours. To his astonishment, a soft smile bloomed on your lips.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, taking his hands in yours. He fought the urge to pull away. “You can touch me. I want you to touch me.”

He wanted to. More than anything. He wished he could.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

How could he explain? He never told you what had happened to him. He didn’t want you to pity him or, even worse, to drive you away. Selfishly, he wanted to keep you in his life.

When he didn’t answer, your fingers slid around his wrists. Neither of you spoke as you lifted his hands to your mouth and kissed each scarred palm. Azriel’s throat worked, his heart pounding in his chest. Without a word, you placed his hands on your breasts. You let go of his wrists, giving him the freedom to pull away if he wanted to. But your eyes never left his, and that soft smile never faltered.

Azriel swallowed hard. For a moment, he just stood there, not pulling away but not moving either. Your face was open and serene, as if his scars didn’t bother you, even now that they were touching such an intimate part of your body.

Seeing you like this, so calm and accepting, so soft and warm under his palms… his thumbs moved, brushing over your nipples. You shivered, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing it again, feeling the small buds harden under his touch.

As if sensing his impending question, you nodded slightly. “You can touch me, Az.”

Though he knew it was wrong and still didn’t understand how you could want his bloodied, scarred hands on you, he gave you what you wanted—what you both wanted.

He slid one hand behind your neck, pulling you closer and kissing you again. The other remained on your breast, kneading the soft flesh, savoring every small sigh that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss until Azriel’s control hung only by a thin thread.

When you pulled back, you didn’t give him time to lower his mouth to your neck. You grasped his hand, gently moving it away from your chest, and a wave of fear tightened in Azriel’s stomach. You had changed your mind. Of course you had. He should have seen it coming.

But instead of stepping away, you guided his hand down. Between your legs.

His breath caught as his fingers brushed against your panties, feeling the already damp fabric beneath his touch.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “Are you sure?”

You were smiling again. “Yes. Please, Az.”

He didn’t know how to say no. He knew he should have, that he was unworthy of touching someone so pure and lovely. But you had already pushed the fabric aside, and he groaned as your slick arousal coated his fingertips. Before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers found your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

The thin thread holding his control snapped at the sound, and Azriel let himself give in.

He pulled you closer, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers explored what they shouldn’t. At the first sign of hesitation or revulsion, he was ready to stop. But pleasure was the only emotion etched across your face, and he could see the desire for more burning in your eyes. Yet you were letting him set the pace, giving him time to accept your permission to touch you.

He slipped a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance before tentatively easing it inside, just a little.

Your hips bucked, and your voice came out as a needy whisper. “Please…”

Azriel hesitated for only a split second before pushing his finger all the way in. You were soft and warm, and you both groaned as your walls clenched around it. He couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but he couldn’t stop now.

As he slowly pumped it in and out, your hips began to rock against his hand to match his movements. He watched in contemplation as your eyes fluttered close and your lips parted slightly, a breathy moan slipping out when he couldn’t resist the urge to add a second finger.

“Azriel…” you murmured. “Feels so good…”

The sound of his name on your lips sent a wave of heat through his body. His wings rustled quietly behind him, and his cock throbbed in his pants. He pulled his hand away, relishing your disappointed whimper.

You hadn’t run away from him. You didn’t let his scars intimidate you, or shape your opinion of him. You weren’t bothered by his marred fingers touching you; on the contrary, you craved them inside you. So why, despite the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t worthy of it, should he deny you something you both wanted so badly? He wanted to taste you, to make you come on his fingers, and see how much pleasure they could bring you.

“I want to do this properly,” he murmured, gently guiding you to the bed. “Will you lie down for me, sweetheart?”

Your face lit up with a smile, and you slipped out of your panties. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs, baring yourself to his hungry gaze.

As Azriel knelt between your parted thighs, he pushed every thought about his hands out of his mind, focusing only on the beautiful girl before him and the warmth settling in his heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel jolted awake, his chest heaving. He lifted his hands in front of him, the dim light of the moon casting shadows across them.

They were fine. Scarred as always, but fine.

He took a deep breath as he lay back down. It was just a nightmare—memories coming back to haunt him in his sleep every now and then. Even after centuries.

“Az?”

He cursed silently as you stirred beside him, turning to face him. He could see your struggle to open your eyes, your voice a sleepy mumble.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It's alright.”

It always was with you. You never complained when his nightmares disrupted your sleep. He didn't have them as often since you'd moved in together, fortunately. Sleeping next to you helped, but it wasn't a cure.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you asked quietly. With your head resting on his chest, you could probably hear the rapid thumping of his heart. He willed it to slow.

“It's fine, sweetheart,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and his tone was softer when he spoke again. “Go back to sleep.”

You curled up against him, and he thought you might let it go. But instead, you continued to look up at him. “You know you can talk to me if you want.”

“I know,” he murmured. You’d always been there for him when he needed it. You had been since the moment you met a year ago, and he was grateful for it every single day. He couldn't wait for your mating ceremony in two weeks and prove once more how much you meant to him.

You shifted in his arms, and then your head was on the pillow next to his, your face only inches away from his. You reached for his hand and lifted it up to your lips, kissing his palm, his fingers, his knuckles.

Azriel watched in silence, a lump in his throat. His heart still raced, and he felt the sudden urge to cry. He didn't even need to tell you what he needed, what burdened him. You always knew. Even before the bond snapped, you'd understood him effortlessly.

“Your hands are fine,” you murmured against his marred skin. “And so are you. You're fine. They can't hurt you anymore.”

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face in your neck, freeing his hand from your gentle grasp so that he could hold you tighter and press his body against yours. He draped his wings over you, unwilling to let go.

Your fingers stroke through his black curls. “I'm here, my love.” Your voice was soothing and soft, and Azriel felt like the helpless child he'd been five hundred years ago—needing reassurance, care, love. Maybe he would always need those things.

“You're here with me. You're safe now.”

He couldn't stop them, then. Tears slipped past his eyelids, rolling down his cheeks and dampening the skin of your neck. But your gentle caresses and soothing words never faltered.

“It's alright,” you whispered. Your warmth seeped into him, and he felt so cared for that even the last of his walls began to crumble. A broken sob tore through him.

“You're safe, my love.” You cradled his head against your neck, lips brushing his hair. “You can let it all out.”

Azriel did. You'd helped him through difficult moments before, but he had always held back because he didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to think he was weak. But if he’d learned anything from you, it was that crying didn't make him weak. That letting his feelings pour out through tears was better than burying them deep down for centuries.

So, he let them rise to the surface. The pain, the anger, the grief for the childhood he’d never had, the bitterness and frustration.

He had never cried about it before, but as he did, he could see it, for the first time in his life—a small light, a way out of the endless cycle of self-pity and hate he'd fallen into.

Maybe his mother had been right all those years ago. He was still healing, even after five centuries. He didn't know how much longer it would take, but maybe he’d reach a point when the nightmares stopped, his hands didn't hurt, and he could accept his scars. And maybe, one day, he wouldn't need his mother or his mate to remind him that his hands weren't ugly.

Azriel had no idea for how long you let him cry and sob in your arms. He had so many pent-up emotions, so much he still couldn't express, words he couldn't voice. But it was a start. And as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, the weight on his chest, on his heart and soul, felt a little lighter.

Yet you still held him close, stroking his black curls long after he fell asleep.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel appreciation week #azriel fic #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #angst #fluff #fanfiction

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demonic0angel · 22 hours ago

Note

In reference to the On Sight Speedsters post, Jason tells Batman that he(Jason) can't work with the Flash anymore because his girlfriend WILL refuse to talk to him for a week. Bruce is extremely confused until Jazz starts ranting about time correction missions during the next family dinner.

Part 2 of this post.

Bruce stared in a strange mixture of exasperation, exhaustion, and empathetic concern as Jazz ranted and raved with her hands moving around in dramatic gestures.

"— and how the hell does it make sense?! Every time they use the speed force, they inevitably mess up the timeline and create a world where everything goes wrong! Just yesterday, I had to bail on a date with Jason in order to prevent the fifth apocalypse of the month!" She turned around and stared at Bruce intensely. "Don't you see?! The Flash family are even preventing Jason and I from being in love!"

After living with overdramatic and theatre student wannabes for so long, Bruce just nodded numbly. "I see."

Jason stared at her with a lovesick, besotted look on his face like she hung the moon and stars and sun and was now even turning the Earth. Bruce almost wanted to ask him why he made his life harder by wooing a princess from another world, but then he would've had to scold and lecture the rest of his kids and none of them listened to him anyways.

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh tiredly.

Life was hard as a father.

Dick looked exasperated. "We should find a way to fix it, so Dan won't attack Wally again. I think he even bit Wally this time."

Jazz paused in her rant to wince. "Oh yeah, I remember that. Dan had to go and prevent your death again for the third time this week."

This time, everyone winced and grimaced.

Bruce finally sighed. "I will go and talk to Flash, and hopefully, we can prevent future issues. How often does this happen?"

Jazz glowered. "Every other day. Sometimes, multiple times a day."

Jason nodded, rubbing Jazz's shoulders. "Can confirm. I've seen Dan sometimes go out of his way to hunt down one of the Flashes. And if this isn't fixed soon, I won't be working with any of the Flashes anymore."

"Jason, no!" Dick cried. "What about Wally?!"

"Screw him! He's making my girlfriend mad!"

Jazz nodded vehemently, looking like she was ready to get fired up all over again.

Bruce sighed again.

Why on earth did he allow his kids to date interdimensional beings? And better yet, why did he even adopt kids in the first place?

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #vangreer #dick grayson #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #dick x dan #bad humor ship #dan fenton #dan phantom #lmaoooo ty for the ask

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hoe4hotchner · 2 days ago

Note

also this might be a weird one but could you write a story where the reader accidentally throws up on Hotch during you know what and he takes really good care of her

In Sickness and Health | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.7k | CW: Vomit, the flu

A/N: I'm fairly certain I know which you know what you're talking about, and if it's the one I'm thinking about I don't write about that….. So I made reader sick with the flu instead.

It was hard to argue that things could get much worse as you curled up on your couch, shivering despite three blankets piled on top of you. The flu had hit fast and hard — harder than you'd ever experienced before.

Hotch had insisted on stopping by to check on you after you’d sounded “off” on the phone earlier, but now you almost regretted accepting his kindness. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this.

There was a gentle knock at your door, and you heard his voice just outside. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m coming in.”

Before you could croak out an answer, Hotch was already inside, his brow furrowing as he saw your bundled-up form. He was carrying a few bags from the pharmacy and some soup that smelled good enough to make your mouth water.

“I told you, you didn’t have to come,” you said, but even that small effort was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He flashed you a gentle, reassuring smile and dropped his coat on a nearby chair. “I couldn’t leave you alone in this condition.” He set the bags on the coffee table, pulling out a bottle of cold medicine, a thermometer, and a box of tissues. “I thought these might help.”

You managed a weak smile. “I think I love you.”

He chuckled softly and brushed your hair back, his touch cool against your fevered forehead. “I’ll take that as the fever talking. Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

He knelt beside the couch and carefully held the thermometer under your tongue. You felt embarrassed under his watchful eye, but he was nothing but warm and reassuring, his hand never leaving yours. When the thermometer beeped, he read it with a frown. “One hundred and two. Let’s get some fluids in you.”

The soup smelled like heaven. You tried a few sips, managing to keep it down, but just as he leaned in to check your forehead again, your stomach twisted in that familiar, dreaded way.

“Aaron, I—”

But you didn’t get the words out in time. Before you knew it, you were heaving, and the soup — and whatever else was in your stomach — landed squarely on his shirt. You were mortified, eyes wide, but Aaron just blinked in mild surprise. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burn hot with shame, despite the fever.

He was surprisingly calm, just dabbing at his shirt with a tissue from the box he’d brought over. “It’s fine. Clothes can be cleaned,” he said in that calming, matter-of-fact tone he often used at work. “But you need rest. Come on, let’s get you settled.”

He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he lifted you up, blankets and all, and carried you to your bedroom. You felt the blush creeping up as he set you down on your bed, adjusting the covers to make sure you were warm. Even in your fevered state, it was hard not to be acutely aware of his gentle touch, the way his hands brushed against you so carefully.

He quickly changed into one of his t-shirts that he'd left at your place — leaving his soiled dress shirt in the bathroom — and then came back with a cool washcloth. “This’ll help with the fever,” he said, dabbing it gently against your forehead, cheeks, and neck. His hands were steady, his gaze so soft that you almost forgot the embarrassment.

“You’re… really good at this,” you managed to say, voice muffled by exhaustion.

He chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of sick days with Jack.”

You smiled weakly. “Thank you, Aaron. Really. I’m sorry about… you know.”

His fingers brushed against your forehead again, tucking a strand of hair away. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m right where I want to be.”

With him by your side, you felt yourself start to drift off, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his voice. As you slipped into sleep, you swore you felt his lips press softly against your forehead, his whispered promise lingering in the air:

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 hours ago

Text

The Shy One

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: a night out ends in an embarrassing encounter.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It feels like you’re seeing the world through tinted glass. The low lights, the buzz of voices, and the subtle clink of glasses feed the haze around you. That and the cocktail in your hand. Just ice now. Your second. You’re surprised how easily it went down.

“Want another?” Mikayla asks as you play with the thin straw.

“Maybe not yet,” you shrug.

She grins at Alina, “lightweight?”

The other women laugh. You’re too embarrassed to admit it but you are. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever tasted alcohol. If they don’t mock you for confessing, they wouldn’t believe you.

“So happy you came out,” Katy grins.

“Yeah, too bad you didn’t make the work mixer last month,” Lu says.

“Hm, yeah, I just... I couldn’t make it,” you chew your lip.

“Mmm, Mik,” Katy purrs, “you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Katy tilts her head and Mikayla follows her gaze. Alina and Lu do the same and you dare to peek after them. There’s a table of men across the bar. There timbre forms a dulcet drone amid the din.

“Sexy, look at that beard.” Alina slithers

“Which one?” Lu giggles.

You shift and look down at your glass. You wrap both your hands around it and squirm. They said it was just work drinks. You don’t want to be dealing with strangers.

“Oh, honey, loosen up,” Alina grabs your starched collar and pops the top button. “You have another one of those and you’ll be dancing on the table.”

“Um,” you lean away from her, “maybe. Erm, I need to go to the restroom.”

“Boo, too early to break the seal,” Katy whines.

“Sorry,” you apologise and stand.

You take your glass with you and as you turn, you stop short as your eyes meet another pair. One of the men from the crowded table catches you in his gaze. You gulp and quickly lower your chin. You hurry on to the bar and set your empty glass on it.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Oh, thanks,” the man behind it swipes it away. “The waitress coulda grabbed that.”

“Oh, now worries,” you show a palm and turn to find the restroom.

You head down the hallway behind the bright blue sign. You dip into the ladies and claim a stall. As nice as it is to release the pressure, it’s even nicer to get a breather. You’re not the bar type. Not a drinker or a dancer, as much as Alina keeps suggesting it. You’re a total square. Thirty years old and you’ve never done anything more fun than laser tag.

You wash your hands and leave the bathroom reluctantly. The music seems louder as you come out, the voices too. As you enter the barroom, you slow down. You’re mortified to find Alina and Katy in the open space, dancing. Grinding against each other.

You stand there, frozen and embarrassed. The other women at the table cheer them on lewdly. You don’t know what to do. Sitting with Lu and Mikayla would draw as much attention as joining the dancing. This doesn’t seem like the place for that.

Maybe it’s time for you to go. You’re feeling a bit cloudy and your eyes are fuzzy. You’ve been up since five in the morning.

You slowly cross the space but have to dodge as Alina spins out and nearly crashes into you. In an effort to avoid her, you hit the side of a table, bouncing off of it and staggering until you fall onto something soft. Thank gosh you managed to find a seat in your descent.

“Mmph,” the grunt greets you with the firm cushion beneath you, “y’alright, doll?”

You look over in horror at the man who’s lap you sit upon. How embarrassing!! You look around at the other men at the table as it dawns on you. This is the worst crash landing you can imagine.

You gasp and peer back at the man who serves as your chair. He’s terrifyingly handsome. His eyes are so blue and his jaw is chiseled beneath his dark beard. His brown hair curtains down around his cheekbones and his cheek dimples in amusement.

“I’m so sorry,” you wriggle against him as he spreads his large hand across your back. “I tripped. I didn’t man to—oh gosh.”

You touch your scalding forehead and try to shimmy out of his lap. It’s useless as you can’t get much of a stronghold. You just manage to ground your butt down on him.

“You okay there?” He runs his fingertips up your spine and sends a shiver through you.

“I’m--- sorry!” You gulp out again. “Please, I’m--” you grab the corner of the table and manage to haul yourself up. “I’m so...” you shake your head and bluster. You’re burning in humiliation. You can feel the other men watching you. “Ugh.”

You turn and scurry around Alina and Katy. You quickly gather up your purse and coat as the women at the table laugh. “Oh, honey, why don’t you give him a nice ride,” Lu teases.

You blanch at her and makes a face, “I didn’t mean to--”

“Oh, chill,” Mikayla chides. “Really, it was funny. Where are you going?”

“Home,” you exclaim. “Stop laughing at me. You’ve been laughing at me all night.”

Lu scoffs, “well, you’re a bit silly, aren’t you? Act like you’ve never touched a man or a drink before.”

You frown and flutter your lashes against the singe of hot tears. This is why you always say no. Why you are always ‘busy’. You don’t fit in. You’re better off alone.

You hug your coat and bag and hurry across the bar. You push through the door and stagger out into the night with a sniffle. Oh joy, work is going to be even worse. Now they’re going to sit around and cackle at you instead of Wendy and her tacky dresses.

You look around, searching for your bearings. You need to find a cab and get out of here. You see once coming down the pavement. You shift your things into one arm and throw your other up. The taxi steers towards the sidewalk but picks up another pedestrian further down.

You huff and crane in search of another escape.

“Hey, doll,” a rocky voice calls over the hinges of the bar door. “Where’re you off to?” You continue to peer down the street, frightened as you feel a gentle nudge on your elbow, “hey, talking to you. You didn’t even give me a name after you sat right on me.”

You flinch and reel away from him, “huh? What? Oh, I’m sorry. That was just... clumsy.”

“Ah, it’s fine. Really. It was funny,” he assures you. “I’m not making fun of you. Just, a pretty girl falls right in my lap then runs away, I kinda gotta wonder...”

“Umph?” You furrow your brow, “you’re making fun of me too.”

“Why would I do that?” He tilts his head. “Come back inside. Let me by you a drink.” You shake your head and wave your hand past him at another yellow cab. He chuckles softly, “you don’t gotta be shy.”

“I don’t know you,” you insist.

“I’m tryna fix that,” he counters.

“Really, I just wanna go home,” you whine as the taxi drives by without stop.

“Right, let’s do that,” he turns and throws his hand up. He whistles and wiggles his fingers. A cab rolls right up to him. “Let’s go.”

He opens the back door and stands back. You stare at it.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You get in, ducking through the door, greeting the driver with a polite, “hello.”

Yet the door doesn’t close. Instead, you’re urged further inside by the man as he sits on the seat next to you. You slide over as he pulls the door shut behind him.

“Tell him where we’re going, doll,” he commands.

You look at him, then the driver. You’re too stunned to think. What is he doing? You give your address and curl your shoulders as you shrink down.

“Now,” the man stretches his arm across the seat, “we got the whole ride to get to know each other,” he offers his other hand, “I’m Bucky, I hear I make a pretty comfy seat.”

You can’t help half a smile. You reach and shake his hand. You suppose he did help you out and he doesn’t seem angry about your unceremonious fall. You give him your name.

“Thanks,” you say again.

“Thanks? Oh doll, what kinda fool wouldn’t help a girl like you?”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #one shot #marvel #mcu #avengers #winter soldier #captain america

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petew21-blog · 2 days ago

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Leather up!

David sat on the concrete wall, waiitng for the buyer to arrive. He put up a post recently to sell his Kawasaki Ninja and get a brand new one. The price was high, but he loved his motorcycle and wanted to get the most of it.

The time of arrival of this secret buyer has already passed, but he was nowhere to be seen. David checked the message with coordinates and was sure that he was at the right place.

David was already sweating in his racing leathers.

He got up and checked the other side just to make sure, that he wasn't crazy.

"All right, you had enough time. I am leaving." he sent back, but the other person didn't open the message.

As soon as David looked away from his phone, he noticed a wet mark on the concrete as if something made it's way towards him. As if a giant snail crawled there. But there was nothing in sight.

David jumped of the ledge and headed to his motorcycle. But his leg was itching. He stopped and wanted to scratch it, but it was way too low. He took off his boot and was immediately shocked. A tiny green goo tail disappeared under the leather, crawling up his leg. "What the..."

David quickly unzipped himself and tried to take the leather suit off, but the goo already made his wait into his ass. He tried pushing at it to make it go away, but it didn't help.

He felt the last parts of the goo disappear in him. The goo stretched and massaged his prostate. He collapsed on the grown and screamed. It wass a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"No! Please! Somebody!!! Help!!!"

David felt weaker by the second. There was no stopping this, no one nearby to help him. David took his last weak breath and closed his eyes.

"Finally!!! I thought you would never let go." David's voice said while getting up from the ground. His indefference was now replaced with an awe and admiration for himself. He checked out his new leather suit and flexed, just to see how tight everything was.

His hand grabbed his bulge over the leather. "I just hope you're a grower, David. I hoped for a full package." his hand let go and made its way under the leather. "Oh fuck yeah. I was hoping you'd be really sweaty. Jackpot."

He walked over to the motorcycle and looked back at himself in the mirror. "I am you. I am DAVID. I hope you can see me David. I am about to destroy your life. So sit tight and enjoy the ride."He started the engine and headed out.

James:"It really worked? Are you really this guy right now? Or did my friend just pay you money to prank me?"

David's body:"Would a random guy just come up to you and showed off himself to you? Let you touch his dick?"

James:"Ok, yeah you're right. How did you even get his body? Can I do that too?"

"No. I'll keep that to myself. Now. How about you get on your knees. You seem parched. Let me fill your mouth."

David screamed, but the fucker that stole his body probably didn't hear him. All David could do was just watch as his previously straight body now participated in gay sex. His dick being burried in this guy's mouth. The fucker even kept him in the leather still.

Before the guy could cum all over the other guy's face, he took David's dick and came over the leather. After a moment of hyperventilating from the exhaustion, the other guy asked. "You're not gonna go clean that? It might make a stain."

David's body:"No,I'll keep it there."

Little did the know that the cum, slowly drying out on the surface, contained the remnants of David's soul.

#leather #leather boots #leather jacket #black leather #racer leather #motorcycle #male possession #body possession #possess me #possessed #possession #goo possession #gay to straight

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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 1 day ago

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𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Would you like to see Han and Felix?" Hyunjin asked softly, his voice gentle as she rested against his chest. She had just gone through an intense session of cleaning her wounds, and the exhaustion was evident on her face. Her omega side, still unsettled, wasn’t allowing her to heal as quickly as she would have liked.

"C-can I see Han? I’m not sure about Felix," she murmured, glancing up at him, her eyes a little tired and distant. Hyunjin’s hands were slowly running through her hair, his touch tender and soothing.

"Why not Felix?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he studied her face. The uncertainty in her voice had him puzzled.

"I’m not ready to see him... just know that," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze. Her voice held a firmness, but it was clear there was more to the situation that she wasn’t ready to share.

Hyunjin felt a small shift in her scent—although it still carried that faint offness, it grew even more sour, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

"Alright, we don’t have to talk about it," he said softly, understanding that pressing her wasn’t going to help. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the warmth of his lips offering a small comfort. He definitely knew the reason behind her reluctance—it was the pregnancy. He could piece it together now, the signs, the subtle shifts in her behavior. She was still processing it all, and he knew it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss just yet.

He kissed her forehead again, then slid his hand down to her lower back, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. His movements were slow and calming, trying to ease the tension in her body as she lay against him. He could feel her drifting, her body growing heavier with sleep.

"Rest now," he whispered softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up." And with that, he continued to gently caress her back, waiting patiently for her to fall into a peaceful slumber.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"How is she doing?"

"She's gone back to sleep, Hyung," Hyunjin replied, his voice quiet as he closed Y/N's bedroom door behind him. The soft click of the door echoed in the stillness, but it did little to ease the heavy tension hanging in the air.

"Has she asked for anyone?" Leeknow’s voice trembled slightly, his posture stiff as he glanced anxiously at Hyunjin. His eyes were still a dull gray, and his concern was written all over his face. He hadn’t even tried to calm his own alpha down, knowing it would be pointless. The stress was too much, even for him.

"No, she asked for Han," Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples as they walked down the corridor, hand in hand. "Her wounds are taking a long time to heal. That's my worry," he continued, his tone weary and filled with concern.

"Do we need to bring one of the Umma's from the village?" Leeknow asked, looking up at the beta with desperation in his eyes. While Hyunjin was known as the best healer in the pack, the village grandmothers had been the ones tending to their kind for generations—long before Chan had taken over. They were old now, retired from their duties, but Leeknow would do whatever it took. If it meant tracking them down, he'd do it without hesitation.

"No, it’s okay, love," Hyunjin answered, giving Leeknow a soft look. "I can handle it. I just need to go through the ancestral scrolls and find something stronger." He knew that his own abilities had limits, but he was determined to make it work.

"This is serious, Hyunjin," Leeknow’s voice softened, his expression solemn. "Werewolves don't lose pups. If you need help..." He trailed off, his eyes searching Hyunjin's face, trying to gauge the weight of the situation.

For centuries, werewolves were known to have the strongest blood. Miscarriages and abortions were unheard of—something they all took for granted. This was a new, terrifying reality for Hyunjin. He’d never faced something like this before.

"Leeknow, I said it’s okay," Hyunjin snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. "Don’t question my abilities." He growled, stepping back from his alpha, frustration and fear bubbling beneath the surface.

"Hey, watch it," Leeknow’s voice darkened, a quiet warning. No one in the pack—especially not a beta—ever stepped up to him like that. Hyunjin's lip quivered at the reprimand, and finally, he broke.

"I’m sorry, Hyung," Hyunjin whispered, his shoulders sagging. "This is just so messed up. She's broken, completely... and she's slowly rejecting our bond. If she completely rejects us... we could—"

"No," Leeknow interrupted sharply, pulling Hyunjin into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around him, trying to offer comfort. They sank down onto the bed together, Leeknow gently massaging Hyunjin’s scalp as they sat in silence. "Don't say that," he whispered, his voice cracking with fear. "We just need to find a way to get Chan in there without her... without her freaking out."

"She won’t allow it, she doesn't even want to see Felix because of the pup," Hyunjin said, his voice heavy with defeat. "Her omega is already convinced we did nothing to protect her. Don’t you feel it, babe?" He looked up at Leeknow, his eyes filled with sorrow. The burn in their marks was unmistakable—the sign that one of them was suffering deeply. In this case, it was Y/N.

"I know," Leeknow replied, his voice calm but tinged with sadness. "We’ll be okay, Hyunjin. We just need to figure out a way to keep Felix away for now." He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, trying to stay strong for both of them.

Hyunjin nodded, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the new tattoo on his arm—a symbol of the new life entering their pack. "I don’t know how she’ll handle seeing him. And he can’t seem to stop begging to see her," he said quietly. "I’m second in command, but right now, it feels like I’m failing," Leeknow sighed.

"We’re in this together," Hyunjin reassured him softly. "We just need to distract him—take him down to the streams or the village to play with the kids, or get him to do some charity work. Anything to keep him occupied."

"Yeah," Leeknow agreed, his voice low. "Right now, he's out shopping for the baby with I.N." He let out a small sigh. "At least he’s not here making things worse."

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with unspoken fears. They were still going to be dads, even though they had just lost one of their pups. The harsh reality was settling in—life had to move on, whether they were ready or not.

"Are Chan and Changbin Hyung back?" Hyunjin asked, trying to focus on something else, anything else.

"No," Leeknow replied. "They went with the hyungs to track and hunt the rogues. They told me to stay and watch over everything." So that was where Chan and Changbin had disappeared to—off with the elders, tracking rogues in the forest.

"Alright," Hyunjin said, standing up and stretching. "I’m going to go check on her again. If you find Han, tell him to come, but only if he's strong enough." Hyunjin let go of Leeknow's hand slowly, his fingers lingering for a moment.

"Okay," Leeknow said, his voice firm, though still quiet. "Be strong for me, okay? I’m just down the stairs if you need me." He gave Hyunjin a final look, his aura shifting to something darker, more protective.

"Okay, Hyung. I love you."

"I love you too," Leeknow replied, his voice soft but steady.

When Leeknow finally found Han, he was in the kitchen with Seungmin, both of them busy preparing food for their mates. The smell of freshly cooked dishes filled the room, but Leeknow wasn’t focused on that. He had something important to say.

"Hey, Hannie?" Leeknow called out, his voice soft but urgent.

Han immediately looked up, his large eyes filled with hope and concern.

"Yes, Hyung, is she okay? Does she need anything? Do you need anything?" Han stopped what he was doing, his full attention now on Leeknow, worry evident in his voice.

Leeknow paused for a moment before responding, his own heart heavy with the weight of what needed to be done.

"Babe, I think it's time for you to go try talking to her," Leeknow informed him gently but firmly.

Han's eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head slightly as panic started to creep in. "Are you sure? Is it not too early? What if she panics? What if I make it worse?" His hands were shaking, his chest pounding with nerves, and he felt the pull of his omega instincts—loud and demanding.

Go. Go. Omega needs us. Mate needs us. Now.

Han's eyes flickered gold, his omega taking control, the familiar surge of instinct filling his veins.

"She needs you, Han. She needs an omega by her side," Leeknow said, his voice calm but filled with quiet conviction. "I believe in you."

Han didn’t hesitate any longer. His omega instincts were too strong, and his heart ached knowing Y/N needed him. He quickly gathered his thoughts and began to pack away the food, giving Seungmin a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving for upstairs.

The walk to her door felt like an eternity. His mind raced, unsure of what to say or do. He grabbed anything he could find—clothes from different rooms—knowing he needed to build a nest for her. He was determined to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved.

When Han finally reached the door, the room was dark, the only light coming from a dimly lit lamp on the nightstand. Y/N was in the center of the bed, Hyunjin holding her close, his hand gently stroking her hair. Han stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before Hyunjin looked up at him and nodded, signaling for him to come closer.

Y/N stirred as she felt a new presence in the room. Her senses were sharp, and as soon as she caught the new scent—one that was familiar and comforting—her heart skipped. She didn’t know what to expect. The fear of rejection still clung to her. She was certain that they might hate her now, that they might blame her.

When her golden eyes met Han’s, all her worries seemed to collapse. Without thinking, she bolted upright, her hands reaching out toward him. The moment their eyes met, her tears began to fall freely, her body shaking with the weight of her emotions.

"Hannie," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she reached for him. "Please... I don’t know if you’re angry at me... Please don’t hate me."

Han’s heart shattered at the sight of her, her vulnerability hitting him harder than he expected. He wasted no time. Without a second thought, he crawled into the bed beside her, throwing the clothes he had gathered into Hyunjin’s hands. He wrapped his arms around her, scenting her gently but urgently. He wanted to erase any trace of the pain and trauma still clinging to her scent, to make her feel safe and loved again.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she clung to him, desperately needing his presence, his comfort.

"Shhh," Han murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "There’s no reason for you to apologize. This is not your fault." He cupped her face gently, staring deep into her eyes, his own eyes filled with sorrow. "I’m so sorry this happened to you," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her forearm. All she could do was cry. She had missed him so much.

"I love you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words was clear.

"I love you too," Han replied, his voice firm and full of resolve. "Forever, okay? I’m never letting you out of my sight. Whoever did this to you... I hope Chan Hyung rips their head off and keeps it as a trophy."

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, her scent slightly souring as she pulled him closer. "I’m okay now, Han. I promise," she whispered, trying to convince herself as much as him. "As long as I’m back home, that’s all that matters now."

Han’s heart twisted with guilt. She wasn’t angry at them, wasn’t holding any of this against them. She was trying so hard to stay strong, even though it was clear that she was breaking inside. He just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t angry with them for not protecting her, for not doing more. But right now, none of that mattered. He just wanted to hold her. He just wanted her to feel safe.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, allowing himself to just feel her. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N," he whispered.

"I'm sitting right in the corner if you need me," Hyunjin said softly, his voice laced with concern as he sat quietly by the door.

Y/N sniffled, her eyes swollen from the tears she had cried. She looked up at him, her face twisted with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability. "Hyunjinnie, go get some real rest," she urged, her voice gentle but firm. "Eat something, take a hot shower, and nap. I promise, I’m right here with Han."

Hyunjin shook his head, his eyes soft but unwavering. "Y/N, I told you I wouldn’t leave."

She sighed, her gaze softening as she reached for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You’re not leaving," she assured him, her voice growing steadier. "I’m right here with Han. You’ve been working nonstop, looking after everyone. Please, take care of yourself; I promise nothing will happen."

Hyunjin stood still for a moment, taken aback by how calm and composed she sounded now. It gave him a flicker of hope, but the worry still gnawed at him. He felt the weight of everything, the endless worry and exhaustion, but hearing Y/N speak so firmly made him feel a bit more confident in leaving her alone for a while. Still, he hesitated.

"Okay... I’ll be back in a bit," Hyunjin finally said, his voice a bit strained. "Han, if anything happens, call me." His eyes lingered on Y/N one last time before he leaned down to kiss both of them on the forehead.

"I will, trust me, Hyung," Han reassured, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of concern. Hyunjin gave one last glance to the pair, the tension in his chest easing slightly. As he exited the room, he felt a small sense of relief knowing Y/N was opening up to Han. That was a step in the right direction.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, Han let out a slow breath, turning back to Y/N. His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he gazed down at her. "Baby," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "How come I can't feel you in the bond anymore?" The question had been haunting him for hours, and now it was out in the open.

Y/N’s eyes flickered, her breath hitching as she looked up at him. The bond between them had been a silent connection, one that had always been there, pulsing with warmth and reassurance. But now... it was nothing but a cold, distant feeling.

"I don't want you to feel my pain," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Felix is pregnant... That would put a strain on him, and I just can't handle the alphas right now. I don't want to deal with all of it." She closed her eyes, trying to keep herself composed, but the ache in her chest was impossible to ignore.

Han’s heart ached as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, his touch soft and soothing. "Oh, but you know that Chan and the alphas never meant to hurt you," he said quietly. "They’ve been beating themselves up over it, not forgiving themselves for what happened. They’ve been looking for you nonstop, Y/N."

"I don’t want to talk about it," she whispered, shaking her head, her body tense against him. "Haven’t I been through enough?" Her voice trembled as she nuzzled her face into his collarbone, seeking solace in his scent.

Han paused, the weight of her words sinking in. "Yes, you have," he said softly, his voice filled with guilt. "I’m sorry." He held her close, his heart heavy with the knowledge that she was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened. "But you’ll have to face Felix eventually," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "He’s been really worried about you."

Y/N stiffened at the mention of Felix, her hands instinctively moving to her stomach. The emptiness that had settled in her chest the moment they lost their pup seemed to fill her again, like an overwhelming wave of grief. "I’m just not ready," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can’t bear to see him carrying our pup."

Han’s heart clenched painfully at her words. "Our pup," he corrected softly, as though trying to remind her, to ground her in the reality that they still had a future, that they still had each other. "Don’t forget... you’re still the mother of that baby." The words felt heavy, but they needed to be said.

Y/N shuddered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks as she turned her face away from him. "Han, please... enough," she pleaded, her voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I can’t take it."

"Shhh," Han whispered, pulling her closer into his embrace. His heart was breaking at the sight of her distress, and guilt gnawed at him for bringing it all up. "It’s okay, get some rest." He gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know I’ve made it worse."

The guilt in his chest was suffocating, and his omega instincts were furious at him for making her cry, for causing her even more pain.

"Please... be patient with me," she murmured, her voice barely audible now as she drifted into a fitful sleep, the exhaustion from everything weighing her down.

Han stayed still, watching her with pained eyes, his hand resting gently on her back. As she slowly drifted off, he kissed her forehead softly, his heart breaking in his chest. "I’m so sorry," he whispered to her, his voice full of love and regret. "I’ll be here. Always."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Where's Han?" was the first question I.N asked when they all sat down for dinner. His eyes quickly scanned the room, but the empty seat beside him didn’t go unnoticed.

"He's upstairs with Y/n," Hyunjin answered, clearing his throat, trying to keep his tone casual.

"He's with Y/n?" Felix perked up immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. "How come? Did she ask for me?" His voice was hopeful, almost eager, but it was clear he didn’t fully understand the situation.

Hyunjin glanced over at Lee Know, seeking some help in explaining the situation. Lee Know, sensing the tension, stepped in.

"S-she… uh, right now we just don’t want to overwhelm her, so we sent Han in to check on her," Hyunjin said, his voice faltering slightly. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt in his chest for lying, even if it was to keep things calm.

"Oh..." Felix frowned, his shoulders slumping. "Can I go in next?" he asked, his voice filled with concern, his food now completely forgotten. The worry in his tone was impossible to ignore.

"How about we finish dinner first?" Lee Know interjected smoothly, "Then we’ll see if she’s awake."

Felix nodded reluctantly, but let out a sigh of frustration. "Okay, that's fine. I just really hope she’s okay," he muttered, looking down at his untouched plate.

"How was shopping?" Hyunjin asked, eager to change the subject and distract everyone from the tension surrounding Y/n.

"It was okay," Felix replied, though he seemed distracted. "I just wish you guys could’ve come. I wonder when Chan and Changbin-hyung will be back," he pouted, poking at his food absentmindedly.

"Eat, babe, you haven’t been eating," I.N scolded softly, noticing how little Felix had touched his meal. Felix let out a tiny whimper, not expecting to be called out.

"I’m not hungry…" Felix mumbled, his gaze shifting from his food to his mates.

"Eat," Seungmin teased, his voice light but firm. "I worked hard on this."

Felix couldn’t help but smile, the teasing tone breaking through his mood. "Okay, for you, I will," he replied, taking a small bite of his food, though his mind was clearly still elsewhere.

The room went silent again as everyone fell into their own thoughts, the tension still lingering like an unspoken weight.

Suddenly, Lee Know’s posture stiffened, and his chopsticks clattered to the table as he stood up abruptly. His instincts were on high alert as he felt the bond feel heavy. His alpha was urging him to go outside.

Someone was on their territory.

"They’re home," he said, his voice sharp with urgency.

Without waiting for anyone else, he bolted for the door, his footsteps echoing through the house.

"Hyung wait up!" Hyunjin was right behind him, and the rest of the group slowly stood up, following in a mix of confusion and concern.

When Lee Know reached the driveway, his eyes went wide. He saw Chan and Changbin coming down the path, both of them covered in blood, their faces exhausted and drained. Their clothes were torn, and it was clear they had just been through something rough.

"What the hell?" Lee Know gasped, rushing to support Chan, while Hyunjin quickly stepped in to help Changbin.

"What happened?" Hyunjin asked, his voice tight with worry, his hand resting on Changbin's shoulder to steady him.

Chan gave a weary glance at his mates, blood dripping from a cut on his arm, but his lips remained pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure whether to explain or keep quiet. The silence between them only deepened the worry growing in the others.

Lee Know glanced at Hyunjin, his expression grim. "We need to get them inside," he muttered, helping Chan to steady himself as they slowly made their way inside. The rest of the group followed behind, trying to make sense of the situation but knowing it would have to wait until later.

"we killed them."

well...fuck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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crazyvik97rpg · 1 hour ago

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That day, Sebastian was indeed bummed that he would have to wait the whole weekend to be discharged on Monday. He had hoped for an early discharge, maybe on Saturday even - he could have at least spent time with William at home then, get back to his place, to relax there, have privacy...all that.

Well, but he could chat some more with his neighbour at least, and he was a friendly fellow indeed.

Meanwhile, the friends were already on their way and Othello too was driving together with William in the car. Othello could clearly see that it was taking a toll on William already and he could see why. So he tried to offer his support somehow - he was the same as Isa, very gentle and thoughtful. It was not an easy thing to take as a partner of someone who got so ill so suddenly.

"...and so you know, it's also important to look after yourself, you can't neglect yourself completely, that won't help Sebastian either", Othello spoke while William drove, looking at him from the side and maybe trying to talk some sense into him, "If you need some help sometime or just want to talk, you know...you can always give me a call or I can come over to help. And Isa too, you know that. It's so very clearly a very difficult situation, I can't imagine what it's like but-...well, I am in very close proximity to you so offering help is really no big deal on my part".

Othello tried his best here - they were kind of like family now after all. Brothers-in-law, so to say. And he knew William for many years now. Seeing him like that, so very clearly exhausted and anxious - he couldn't just watch this happen.

Other than this more serious talk, the drive was smooth and easy. It took them maybe 30 minutes or so before they arrived at the hospital. They met up at the parking lot again, Alan got the little package with sweets, Ronald had the flowers ready. The whole squad was here.

"Very nice...well then, let's go?", Eric hummed, having a look at the clock, "Half past four. Perfect time for a little surprise visit", he grinned.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes.

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times.

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?”

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them.

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

#for i have sinned

15K notes · View notes

theagstd · 2 days ago

Text

One Night Stand ; 39

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter thirty nine ; wc | 5.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, adored by the peaceful look on your sleeping face. He's seen you asleep countless times, yet this morning feels different—

you're glowing more than ever. He likes to think it's because of him, that he's responsible for both the afterglow and the glow of pregnancy. He's lost track of time, aware only that he's been lying here well past his work hours.

With the tension from your recent fight, he's missed Saturday at the office and hasn't checked his emails, too stressed to focus. He knows he should get up and work, but how can he pull himself away when you're so beautifully asleep on his chest?

his eyes move around your face, taking in your features. the length of your eyelashes, your perfectly sculpted nose and your pouty lips that part just slightly with each quiet breath. your hand rests on his naked chest under your cheek he knows will leave red imprints on your pale skin.

his fingertips reach to tuck the baby hair behind your ears, and slowly he allows himself to do this action. you hum at the contact of his warm skin on your cold face as you push yourself closer and deeper into him, even though that's impossible when you're already so close to him.

he smiles at that, it makes you look like a baby laying on him. he doesn't want to wake you up but his duties call for him, although he doesn't really give a damn about it since he's so caught up in this beautiful dream with you, he must go. "baby.." He whispers, hoping to wake you up nice and easy.

You hum a little, shifting around, your hand searching for something he can't quite figure out. He looks at you, a bit confused, as your fingers keep roaming across his chest. Gently, he rests his hand on your arm, and you grab it, tucking it under your neck like it's the most natural thing.

Jungkook can't help but laugh, totally charmed by how cute you are. "Baby....i've got to go." he murmurs and you whine like a child. "I don't want to leave you too but.. i have to." "stay.." you mumble and he pouts. he wishes he could, he wants to, so badly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." he drapes his arm around you and caresses your naked back. your skin so smooth and soft, he loves touching you, he could do it all day. "promise?" you ask. you're still half asleep, you have no idea what you're mumbling but you know you're being a whiny mess. "I promise, darling."

he places a kiss on your temple, his nose touching yours, and he lets himself stay like that for some time. "when you get back..." " mm?" "can you get me some strawberry tanghulu?" you ask and he frowns as he detaches his face from yours to look at you. "tanghulu?" "mm hmm, I saw them in my dream."

"them?" "them...they were dancing tanghulu's- before you laugh at my face! I don't know why it came to life." you say, your tone growing sharper, almost defensive. But that only makes Jungkook laugh harder, especially since your voice went up an octave as you tried to sound serious even though you're sleepy.

"alright, i'll get them for you." your eyes flutter slowly as you open them wide to look at him. his galaxy orbs stare at you while he bites on the inside of his cheek, making that dimple you love more visible. you lift your head to see him, a small smile plays on your lips as your eyes slowly drift shut, the exhaustion pulling you back under.

You can barely fight it, wishing you could fast-forward to nightfall and sink into sleep all over again. "you're tired, sleep. I'll be back soon. you won't even feel it." "but i will. you're so warm-" you hug him tighter as you press your head inside his neck.

"and it will be so cold when you leave." you continue. you're being extra clingy and it's something he hasn't really seen. you're fond of touch and being around him but, this clingy? he thinks he's unlocked a different side of you and he loves it so much more. "i know baby. wait for me okay."

you nod as he places a kiss on your forehead and runs his fingers in your hair. "i think it's because i haven't slept well the past two days." he hums and says 'me too.' Jungkook forces himself to get off the bed, he's fully aware that if he spends another minute with you he's not gonna be able to pull away.

he takes a warm shower after he chooses his suit for the day. he walks out of the washroom with a towel draped around him and then puts on his shirt and trousers. you've wrapped your hands around his pillow still dozing off. he oils his hair then proceeds to button up his shirt and do his tie.

He can't take his eyes off you, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner—why he hadn't let you sleep next to him in his bed, in his room. You just look so right here, like you belong. He swears he's never seen anyone look so beautiful. It's like you're the light his darkroom was missing, like you complete it in a way he didn't even know he needed.

he walks over to you while he fastens the buttons on his wrist as he leans closer to your face. "i'm leaving baby. take care okay." "mm hmm." "have your meds and text me if you need anything." "okay.." he places a peck on your nose and smiles as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This morning, Jungkook feels like an entirely new person, and it's all because of you. Arguing with you had drained the life out of him, and only now does he realize how weak he'd been over the past two days. The workload he's facing is intense, he should be feeling stressed and anxious.

Yet, as he sits in the back seat with his driver taking him to the office, he has a foolish grin on his face, replaying memories of last night and how beautiful you look today. he sighs as he leans his head back on the seat and he prepares himself to face the work that waits for him.

He also recalls the visit to your parent's place and makes a mental note to book the tickets this week.

;

You're woken by the restless, uncomfortable movements of your baby, who refuses to let you sleep on your left side. Turning to the right is a struggle too, with the weight of your belly, so you decide to get up. The pillows still carry Jungkook's scent, and for some reason, it makes you giggle like a lovesick girl.

Now and then, you take a small sniff, smiling as you relax. Maybe starting today, you'll see him try to love this baby as much as you do. You really hope he does. you pull yourself out of his soft bed and walk back to your room. you're greeted by Bam who sleeps on the bed, he lifts his head up when he senses you entering and immediately runs over to you.

"ohhh Bammie! i've missed you." you speak to the Doberman who twirls around your feet as if he's meeting you after weeks. "i'll be right back okay." he barks at you and you give him a little pat before you grab your outfit and walk into the washroom.

you freshen up and relax on your couch as Bam sits beside you waiting for his pets. Maya knocks on your door and you give her your brightest smile. "good morning y/n.." "morning Maya!" She walks over and gives you a quick pat on the head, taking a moment to notice the charming changes in your features.

Your smile is wider, your eyes are bright and full of excitement, and your voice is lively and high-pitched. the old woman knows everything has been settled and she couldn't have been happier about it. "I'm starving... could you maybe get me something sweet for breakfast?" you ask, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Absolutely! I'll be right back with something freshly made." Maya's over the moon that you've asked her for something sweet—her specialty. It's been a while since anyone has requested this; her children live far away, and she hasn't seen her grandchildren in a long time.

Living alone, she's thrilled to have someone to cook for again. Feeding people is her passion, and having the chance to prepare a meal for a pregnant woman feels like a true blessing. It's not like Maya hasn't been cooking for you, she makes something for you every day. But it's always savory, a wrap or a sandwich, never anything sweet.

You're finishing up a book, but after so much reading and TV, you're starting to feel restless. You want something fun to do, but you're also too tired to move around much. Your gaze drifts over to the baby clothes still in their plastic bag. You've only bought a few things so far; there's so much more to get, and the thought of going baby shopping again excites you.

Maybe this time Jungkook could come along? Although Hoseok was amazing, too. he was not only curious but also wildly enthusiastic. You realize you haven't texted him since last evening, so you check your phone. Sure enough, he's left you a bunch of messages, mostly asking you about how you're feeling.

he's a good friend, he checks up on you and the baby and always leaves you smiling. Hoseok's a true friend, and you know you should keep him forever. While replying to his texts, your mom's call comes through, so you answer. "Y/N! How are you, darling?"

she greets you warmly. "I'm feeling the best! How are you and Dad?" you reply. "Oh, we're doing well! I was thinking, when are you coming to visit us? You always say 'soon,' but you never tell us when." You hum, then answer, "Probably next week? I want to see you too."

She immediately responds, "Come, then! Oh, and I have something to tell you." You sense she's going to bring up someone. "What now, Mom?" "Jessica, your dad's cousin's daughter—remember her?" You can barely recall, but you go along.

"Yeah, what about her?" "She dropped by with gifts to celebrate her twins! She looks so beautiful in her pregnancy; she's glowing!" You stiffen, rolling your eyes at the thought of what they might say about you. "Wow... I'm so happy for her,"

you respond as she continues to talk about them and how your relatives are doing although you don't really bother about them at all. your responses go as a hum or a yeah or wow without indulging too much with it. you look over at Bam and he tilts his head with his round eyes and you copy him and mouth blah blah blah while patting the dog's body.

Maya walks in with a warm smile, carrying a plate decorated with something so delicious and beautifully presented. "Mom, I'll talk to you later—uh, I've got to catch up on something," you say, waiting until she declines the call.

You sit up, folding your feet underneath you, eagerly waiting for Maya to place the plate on the coffee table. "I hope you enjoy a well-done French toast and berry compote," she says. Your mouth parts in awe as you look at how elegantly she's decorated the plate—almost like a dish for MasterChef. "This looks so stunning! It's too perfect to eat!" you exclaim, marveling at the effort she put into the details.

"This makes me feel like it's Christmas!" you add, pouting in delight. Maya is thrilled by your reaction, thinking the time she spent on this dish was more than worth it. "Enjoy, dear!" she says happily. "Thanks, Maya, you remind me of my late grandmother..."

you whisper the last few words, but the old woman catches on. "She must've loved you so much," she says softly. You sigh, leaning back, memories of your beloved grandmother flooding your mind. She used to make her famous apple cinnamon rolls just for you, even though your mother would scold her for spoiling your teeth.

But you both would do it secretly when your parents were out at work, and it was just the two of you. Maya realizes that you share a special bond with your grandmother and expresses her hope of creating a meaningful connection with you as well.

She knows how deeply Jungkook loves you—she can feel it, understanding how hard it has been for him to open up and love again after years of guarding his heart. But with you, it's different. She can see the love you both share, and she eagerly awaits the day those feelings are fully confessed, believing that when that happens, the house will be filled with joy, warmth, and laughter.

"Oh darling, I'm honored that I remind you of your grandmother," Maya says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more about her and the food she used to make for you. I'm a grandmother too, you know. I love my grandkids, but they live so far away...." You find it sad that many grandchildren don't get to spend time with their grandparents. It feels like an essential part of growing up—the love, care, and cultural heritage that only grandparents can pass on.

It makes you reflect on your own family, realizing with a pang of sadness that your children might miss out on those special experiences once your parents are no longer around since you're settled in Korea and them in Canada. "Maybe I could share those experiences with you," Maya offers gently.

"You're like a child to me, too." Looking at her, you notice how beautiful she is, her gentle features and the way her sagging skin crinkles into a heartwarming smile. Her warmth and the kindness in her voice feel so grandmotherly, exactly what you need in this moment. "Thank you, Maya,"

you respond with a smile. "I'd love that!" she leaves after a moment of silence. You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the beautiful dish and the moment, adding a little heart to the image before posting it on Instagram. You smile at how adorable it looks. Then, you take a bite of the thick brioche French toast—nothing like the typical, thin slices.

The warm berry compote, creamy whipped cream, and delicate dusting of icing sugar send you straight to heaven. The softness of the toast, the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness from the compote, and the airy cream combine in a way that's even better than you expected. It's so delicious,

you know it's something you'll be craving again soon. Jungkook replies to your story and that's something that happened for the first time because you haven't posted anything for a long time.

Jungkook replied to your story ; you're eating all that without me?

you giggle at his reply. Somehow everything feels different today, you know why yet you like to keep it a mystery.

; you left me so you don't get any.

J ; i didn't leave you hun, i was forced to!

; anyway... you did so :(

J ; i like it when you're whiny

; i think i'm coming out of my character, i should go back to being annoying

J ; omfg NO.

he's so cute that he leaves you all giddy. you can't wait for him to come home, you miss him so much that it hurts. Jungkook, on the other hand, has been having a rough day and even weird that his staff gave him a look whenever he made eye contact with them, but every text you send him brings him a sense of calm.

You're his safe haven, the missing piece he didn't know he needed, and he feels it deeply. Work has been a struggle lately, adding to his stress. So, when he hears a knock on his door, he calls out, "Come in," without thinking. His eyes land on the man standing before him, and after a double take, he lets out an angry sigh. "What are you doing he—" "What are these pictures?"

the orange-haired man cuts Jungkook off, tossing an envelope of photos onto his desk. Jungkook grabs it, irritated, and opens it. As he pulls out the pictures, he realizes they're of moments he never knew were captured.

His eyes widen at the photos of him holding you at the picnic, kissing you, and even some from your trip to Paris—the greasy pizza he warned you not to eat, and shots from the business party he attended in France. "You're doing the exact same thing Taehyung was doing, and now it's fine with you?"

Yoongi questions, leaning against the table. Jungkook stares at the photos, alarmed and confused. Who could have taken these secret pictures of you both? Jungkook hadn't fully registered Yoongi's words, but when they finally sank in, his eyes snapped up, seething. "Say that again," he demanded.

Yoongi took a breath and repeated himself. With that, Jungkook rose from his seat, his glare icy. "Don't you dare compare me to that bastard!" "Kook, if you're doing the same thing, what difference is there between you two?" "I don't take advantage of women! You know me! How could you even—"

"How could you think so low of me?" he asked quietly, disappointment thick in his tone. Yoongi smiled bitterly, looking down. "You think I haven't heard the rumors? Don't you think I read the magazines? Think I don't read the magazines or keep up with what you do?" He took in the success surrounding him as he stepped closer to Jungkook.

"If you knew so much about me, why would you hide?" Jungkook shot back. "That's not the point, Jungkook! What matters is what you do now—" "I don't sleep around anymore!" Jungkook yelled, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. Yoongi held his ground, determined not to let this turn into a physical fight.

He knew Jungkook's strength and his temper; so he kept his voice steady, refusing to escalate things. "that's not what the pictures say? i can't believe you got some women pregnant when you were so against t-"

"It's my wife!" Jungkook snapped, the words cutting through the room.

Yoongi's frown deepened, studying Jungkook's expression, searching for any sign of truth in his words. Jungkook exhaled sharply, finally stepping back from Yoongi and sinking into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. He hadn't meant to reveal it like this;

he knew he had to say something, but he hadn't expected it to come out in such a raw, exposed way. the older's lips part as he tries to take it in but he can't. he thinks he may have misheard it. "what?!" he asks and hears jungkook whine. "she's...not my wife but she's my- everything." Jungkook mutters under his breath, never expecting to admit this out loud, especially not to someone he'd looked up to for so long.

Yoongi takes a closer look at the pictures. He can't make out the woman's face clearly, but he notices how her bump grows in each photo. "When... when did this happen? How did you—" "It's... different now. I haven't been with anyone else since," Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi can hardly believe it.

After years of Jungkook being caught up in one scandal after another, he hadn't even realized that phase had come to an end. Spending time away, he'd only seen pictures of Jungkook and some pregnant woman circulating online, and he was worried Jungkook might've been making another mistake. He didn't want to see him go down that road.

"Kook..." Yoongi says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at Jungkook's face, he sees tears brimming in his eyes. "I was... worried when I saw these in the media." Yoongi turns back to the photos, feeling a bit relieved. Your face isn't visible in any of them—hidden by a kiss here, taken from behind there, or perfectly covered by a pizza slice.

Jungkook nods at the older words as he makes a mental note to check social media when he's free. Jungkook hadn't noticed anything was off, even though people in the building had given him strange looks as he walked to his office. "So... how is she?"

Yoongi asks, curious. Jungkook rarely talks about his relationships, so Yoongi wants to know if this is really something serious. Jungkook's face softens, and a faint smile appears as his eyes light up just thinking about you. "She's..." he trails off, mumbling, then gets quiet. Yoongi holds back a smile. "She's the one,"

Jungkook finally says, his voice low but certain. Yoongi takes a seat across from him, waiting for Jungkook to say more, but he doesn't. After a beat, he asks gently, "And... the pregnancy?" Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The way he met you, and how things unfolded—it wasn't exactly a fairy tale.

"i met her at a club..." Yoongi senses he's touching on a sensitive topic when he notices Jungkook's hesitation, so he keeps his tone light. "How many months along is she?" Jungkook's pulse quickens, panic bubbling up—he doesn't actually know. He has no real details about his child, and that realization brings a wave of anger and sadness.

Yoongi frowns, noticing Jungkook gulp and crack his knuckles. "She's about... six months along," he answers quickly, making it clear he doesn't want more questions, and Yoongi catches the hint. "Great, I'm happy for you both," Yoongi nods, giving Jungkook a steady look before getting to his feet.

"I'll head out, then..." Jungkook nods, and as Yoongi heads to the door, he pauses. "I hope we can catch up again sometime. Start fresh, if you're open to it... things have changed. Maybe we can all be better, too."

He offers a tight smile, then steps out of the room. Jungkook lets out a deep breath, sinking into his chair as he covers his face with his hands. No matter what Yoongi says, he knows he could never go back to them. Things may have changed, but the past is still there, unerasable—and he isn't ready to let it go.

Yoongi's presence stirs up his frustrations, yet there's a part of him that misses seeing him, the familiarity of having him around, even with all the weight of old memories. he may have changed in some ways, but he still wears the same comfortable sweaters and shirts, and he still speaks with his usual wisdom.

Outwardly, nothing seems different, except for the relationship that no longer exists between them. He pauses to breathe, feeling the stress build as worries about his image and the latest rumors churn in his mind. He's especially concerned about what people might be saying about you.

When he picks up his phone and checks Twitter, he sees the same photos Yoongi had left on his desk now posted online, along with captions like:

"Is the CEO of Jeon Industries going to be a father?"

"Is CEO Jeon Jungkook involved in another affair?"

He tosses his phone aside and gulps, his heart sinking. Rumors are one thing, but rumors involving you? That's something he can't stand. He needs to protect you.

;

Your next appointment is in two weeks, marking your eighth month of pregnancy—so close to labor now. You still don't know the baby's gender, but you aren't too curious; whether it's a boy or a girl doesn't really matter to you. All you want is a healthy baby, and you feel confident that will be the case.

As you watch the clock tick, you browse baby clothing websites, filling your cart with favorite outfits to choose from later. You're pretty sure you've added over 250 items by now, but who can resist when everything is so cute? Regardless of gender, you don't plan to stick to traditional colors ;

blue isn't just for boys, and pink isn't only for girls. After all, color doesn't define gender. Bam has been in a playful mood ever since he laid eyes on you. He jumps around, circles you, and constantly licks you, overflowing with affection. Your love for this dog is indescribable, and you can't wait to see the bond that will form between him and your baby.

After Jungkook shared his fears and expressed his desire to try, you're convinced that this has a real chance. You're not alone in this, and neither is your child. If Jungkook wants to make this a family, you're ready to embrace it with open arms, it's what you want, too. So, when you come across videos of dogs bonding with babies, you watch in awe, dreaming of that special connection for your own child and Bam. "aren't you a good boy Bammie?"

The Doberman gets so excited when you call him by the nickname you chose that he practically demands your attention, even while you're already petting him and talking to him. "Oh, you're such a good boy!" you coo, "and me?" just then, you hear Jungkook's voice as he approaches, setting his bag down by the couch.

After shrugging off his coat and washing up, he heads toward you, a warm grin on his face. "What about you?" you tease, noticing how his presence sparks a surge of energy within you. He's home, and he's getting closer, his eyes fixed on you with that look you love. He glances at you sitting comfortably in a fitted vest, your chest and baby bump so prominent, it's a sight he can't get enough of.

He gives Bam a gentle pat, motioning for the dog to move, then settles beside you. "Am I a good boy?" he asks, dimples showing as he bites his lip, watching you with those soft, round eyes. After a long, stressful day, being here with you fills him with the peace he's been craving. "Hmm," you murmur, moving your face closer to his, studying his tired features;

his slightly droopy eyes show his fatigue, yet the way he looks at you and smiles reveals he's still present. "You're okay. Not amazing, but not terrible," you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. His eyes stay locked on your lips as you speak. After last night, Jungkook senses that there's more between you both. "Is that so?" he whispers, leaning in. "Yes..."

you hum, surprised when he softly kisses your lips. The touch relaxes you, like you've waited for it for days, not hours. "I missed you," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Mm-hmm, me too..." you respond, fingers tapping on his smooth skin as you admire him. He gazes at you a moment, then clicks his tongue and looks away, asking,

"Which city do your parents live in?" "Toronto." "Thought so. I'll book the tickets then." You smile and nod, feeling slightly anxious. "For when?" "This Friday sound good?" he asks. "Yes." Jungkook picks up his phone, texting someone as he talks to you. "Let your parents know, then." "Okay..."

Your voice drops, and he notices, turning off his phone to look at you. "Nervous? Not sure what to expect?" he asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed on your bump, fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric. "Hey..." he places a comforting hand over yours. "It'll be alright." You give him a tight smile and nod. "By the way... how far along is she?" he asks suddenly, surprising you.

"She's seven months now—almost eight in two weeks." Jungkook's eyes widen; it hits him just how close you are to the due date. "Wow..." he chuckles, realizing he'd guessed wrong when talking to Yoongi. Curious, you ask, "Why a 'she' now? Last night you called the baby a 'he.' What do you think the gender is?"

Instinctively, you feel it's a girl, but you want to know his thoughts. He hums, thinking aloud as he glances down at your bump, trying to decide. "I think... boy. But—" "But?" you prompt as he hesitates, his hand trembling as he reaches to place it on your bump, only to pull back and place it on your palm instead.

You guide his hand to rest over your bump, holding it there. He hesitates but eventually relaxes into the touch. "But...?" you ask again, watching him. He looks down, then smiles softly. "I want her." You blush at his words, the pink in your cheeks spreading across your face, making him smile.

He loves seeing you like this, and now that he's working on himself and the bond the three of you share, he realizes he's becoming a little obsessed with making you happy. "I want her too..." you murmur. "Looks like we're both on team girl, huh?" he replies, rubbing your bump and lingering, secretly hoping he'll feel a little kick. His gaze stays fixed on your belly, and you sense his wish, so you gently guide his hand lower.

"She's here. Just wait for her," you whisper, and he patiently focuses, waiting to feel something—anything at all. His brow furrows with concentration, but after a while, neither of you feel any movement. "Guess she's not in the mood for a kick," you say softly. He nods, smiling tightly as he pulls his hand away. "Maybe... she's just not ready for me either,"

he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he stands. Feeling a twinge of sadness, you stand as well, grabbing his coat while he picks up his bag, and the two of you head upstairs in silence. He takes a cold shower, then slips on his sweatpants and a black t-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, and using a towel to dry his damp hair. You're sitting on the couch, watching him.

"What?" he asks, catching your gaze before turning to the mirror to apply his skincare. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The bump presses into his back before the rest of you can it's a little awkward, but it works. You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly. He sighs, resting his hand over yours on his waist. "just had a bad day.." he murmurs. "you can tell me about it, if you want to." Jungkook's heart clenches at how soft you sound like you do not want to intrude but you also want him to know that you're always there for him. he loves the feeling of being cared for and you give him, so much that he feels so lucky. "work is getting stressful."

he says leaving out the rumors and the whole Yoongi mess from you because he does not want to worry you. "it will be fine. work is not work if it isn't stressful." You say this, and he chuckles, nodding.

Your hand rubs his stomach to comfort him, sending a flutter through him. He loves how gently you treat him, like he's someone precious, making him feel like a child in the best way. "Hey, you come here!" he says, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him, his tone playful. You can't help but smile as he relaxes. "I think you're forgetting something..."

he teases, watching you frown in thought. He bites his inner cheek, waiting for you to remember that silly dream you had. "What did I forget?" you ask, a bit lost. He groans, laughing. "Your dancing tanghulu dream!" "Ohhh!" you start to laugh, trying to hold it in, but it escapes, and he chuckles along with you.

"I got them for you," he says. "You did?!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. He nods, leading you downstairs, where a brown paper bag sits on the counter. You open it to find a box with strawberries, grapes, and tomatoes coated in a glistening sugar syrup, skewered on sticks. your eyes sparkle at the fruits in front of you as you grab one and poke it into your mouth.

"careful bear, the edge might hurt you." He leans back against the counter, watching as you savor a mouthful of the crisp, sugar-coated fruits. A soft moan escapes you as you close your eyes, head tilted back in bliss. "My cravings are finally satisfied!" you declare. "Is that so?" he teases. "Mm-hmm, try one!"

You bring a piece to his lips, but he shakes his head, smiling. "Have one!" you insist, nudging him. He wraps his arms around your hips, opening his mouth as you press a strawberry to his lips. He bites into it, and your palm hovers beneath his chin to catch any sugar bits that fall, which you quickly pop into your mouth, licking your fingers. "Good, right?" you ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, satisfied. As you reach for a grape skewer, he gestures for you to stand between his legs, so you press your back to his chest, leaning into him as you munch on the rest of the fruit. Occasionally, you offer him a bite, though you end up eating most of it yourself. "Happy?"

he asks, and you nod eagerly. His heart swells as he watches you, delighted just to see you smile. Gently, he brushes his fingertips along your lips, collecting the little sugar crystals, then pops them into his mouth. When he reaches to get the last bit, you stick out your tongue, licking his finger clean.

His eyes darken slightly, watching you with a smirk. "You're quite the tease." you slowly nod with your lips still wrapping around his finger, your tongue rolling. "you taste good." you say after you let go of his finger with a pop sound. "you know what else tastes good..."

his voice raspy as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "what is?" you whisper innocently, like have no idea what he's gonna say next when you very well know what it is. "my dick, baby." your fingertip traces his chest and abs, you feel his nipple harden at your touch, he bites back a moan. "that i know."

you whisper as you lean closer to him, pressing your lips on his neck. "y/n.." he groans and grips your hips tighter. "yes babe..." the butterflies that he felt when you call him that. "call me that again."

you press your lips to his ear and suck on it as you whisper. "babe.."

"fuck"

"you like that?" you ask as you palm his bulge.

"fucking love it."

next chapter ⇢

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #one night stand #theagstd #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

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momolady · 2 days ago

Text

Sirion the Vampire

-Patreon - Ko-Fi - Commissions - Masterlist - 3K words - Trans-Male Reader x Male Monster Forbidden Love - Elopement - Vampire Feeding - True Self

Taking hold of that hand, you held it close, unafraid of the dark and certainly not worried about the cold. You looked into the darkness of his eyes, assured of what he said.

“Then let’s go.” Your breath came out in thick, curtaining billows. “Take me there, we can’t leave soon enough.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in to kiss you. You had vowed long ago you would go anywhere with him, do whatever it took to stand by his side. When he saw you, truly saw you, there was no turning back. Forever you two were locked together.

The night you ran, he made quite the grand spectacle of it. Of course Sirion had to let the whole world know, that was never a question in your mind. He took you from your home, glaring deep into the eyes of your family who had been holding you captive in your own home all this time. He stared at them, wishing them to burst into flames, but instead he let them live, peacefully as you had requested. Even as your father’s old gun rang through the streets, all you wanted was for them to be left alone

The carriage was an ornate one, one harkening back to the old days when the vampires had once ruled this land. There were no windows, so you could not see outside to where you were going. But there were jewels, or at least where jewels had once been. The empty settings seemed to plead for something to hold. The seats were luxurious, silk and down you assumed.

“It will take us a while to get there,” Sirion murmured.

You looked up from your exploring, catching the somewhat grim look upon his face. He raised his hand, showing the blood on his palm from where you fathers’s bullet grazed him.

Jumping up from your seat, you rushed to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is nothing to worry about,” he growled as you sat beside him, peeling away his cloak to inspect the wound. “I will heal fast. After all, at the moment, I am still full of you.”

Placing your palm over the wound, you glared into his eyes.

Sirion laughed. “Don’t give me such a look.” He languidly placed his hands over his face, hiding but a slip of his eyes. “Not when we should be celebrating.”

You huffed. “You haven’t rested either.”

Placing his long, heavy arm around you, Sirion pulled you in close. “I was far too excited.” He relaxed his body as yours drew closer. “It will be just us now. No hiding, no secrets, no shadows.” His eyes gazed up to the roof of the carriage where a starry night scene was painted. “A place of moonlight,” he breathed.

You were exhausted as well, and resting your head upon his chest was the most sumptuous pillow you could find.

When you woke, the carriage had stopped. You raised from the seat, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around. Outside you heard voices, Sirion’s was among them. As you opened the door and peered out, you saw a dark, endless scene of pillars and dark. The air was musky and cold, and echoes of water were all around.

“There he is.” Sirion’s voice guided you to his visage, standing in the light of a torch. “Come,” he beckoned to you. “They will be taking care of you.”

“For what?” You frowned, looking at the tall, pale woman before you and her short, somewhat hairy companion.

Sirion held onto your shoulders and chuckled. “To prepare you for your new life, of course. To be my groom.”

Your heart pounded, taking another look at the couple before you.

“I’ll be fixing your hair,” the man said and spit to the side.

The woman smirked, amused by the man’s behavior. “And I have clothes for you, Sirion requested a lavish wardrobe for you, my lord.”

The pulse of your heart was likely noticed by everyone in your presence. “Really?” You looked up at Sirion in awe.

“Really,” he chuckled. He pushed against your back. “They will take care of you, and I will rest.”

You followed the man and woman, taken to a bunker-like building. Inside was lavish in a pauper type of way. Things that had once been grand mixed with others that looked stolen or upgraded.

The man had you sit in a chair while he took out a glimmering silver razor and scissor set. In a rage, your father had lopped off your hair, leaving it uneven, in hanging chunks, and skin close patches. You were relieved to feel the hairy man’s scissors snip away and the cold of the razor against the back of your neck.

Meanwhile the woman pulled out a trunk, an extra package set aside upon the top which she opened. Inside was a dark red and black suit. The material looked familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“There now,” the man turned you in the chair. “How does that look?”

The mirror was broken, but you still appeared in it just fine, unlike the man and woman. Your hair was masculine, swooped to the side and the flowing front tucked behind your ear and the sides shaved short due to your fathers assault. It was how you always wanted to look. You looked like the man you knew you were.

“That’s amazing,” you whispered, touching your face.

The woman then approached from behind. “And your new wardrobe is even better!” She said excitedly. “Come, come, you must get dressed.”

The man walked off, going to prepare something in the corner while the woman dressed you. She took note of the bite mark on your thigh, giving you a wink and a smile. She dressed you in the fine suit, making sure the hems set right and everything fit.

“Perfect! The measurements were precise.” She moved you to the mirror again, showing you yourself. The suit hugged what it needed and hid what you didn’t want. You looked like the vision you saw in your head, the one that never had appeared to you before. Tears came to your eyes.

“I knew it! I did it!” The woman clapped her hands together then turned to the man, taking from him a silver clutch. She opened it, showing you the needle inside. “Sirion will know the rest,” she whispered to you. “He always provides.”

Still in tears, you weren’t sure how to respond.

The man and woman finished your meeting by giving you food, which seemed a bit jumbled, but you were hungry so the meal didn’t matter.

Afterwards, you were presented to Sirion, whose grin could have matched yours. He ran up to you, scooping you up and tossing you about in the air.

“My dashing prince!” he announced loudly and proudly. “Look how you shine!” He hugged you to his chest, his long fingers grasped around your head. “I knew you were meant for the finery of the vampires.” He smoothed his palms down your collar. “I had her make this from the suit I was wearing when we first met.”

That’s where it seemed so familiar! You beamed from ear to ear, even larger than before. “I love it,” you breathed into his chest. “Thank you!”

He stroked your hair, feeling the closely shaved sides with a delicate touch. “From now on, you will be seen. I promise. Where we are going, you will only see your best self.” He then laughed. “We don’t use mirrors much, but I have one just for you.” He bent down, kissing you. His lips were cool, but you had grown to love that feeling.

Once in the carriage again, Sirion had you in his lap, his hand in your pants touching you, feeling your desire from him grow.

“Seeing you like this, it makes me feel alive again,” he chuckled into your ear. His voice was breathy, deep, full of longing. “I cannot wait for us to make love for the first time.”

You moaned, fidgeting a bit in his lap. His fingers curled, eliciting a deep moan from your lips. “But we have.”

“Not like this,” he growled. “Not in freedom.” His fingers were slick, making wetter sounds as he moved. “I doubt I can hold myself until we reach safety.”

“You don’t have to,” you gasped. “We can-” You kept losing your breath from his touch. “We can do it now.”

Sirion breathed something of his old language into your ear. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Enjoy the rest as a free member over on Patreon!

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solis-solaire · 1 day ago

Audio

“WELL I’M KEEPING THE CRAVAT”

“OBVIOUSLY, how tf would you prosecute without one?”

I AM DYING.

--AA1 spoilers, AA5 spoilers, minor AAI case 2 spoilers ahead--

Well now this audio has me wondering why Edgeworth kept wearing the cravat after the whole DL-6 getting solved thing. Because it’s been accepted that he began wearing it in the first place due to von Karma’s influence, instead of wearing a bowtie like his father did.

Even after his first trial he lost the over-the-top suit that reflects Manfred’s (although he still kept it on the wall in his office. Maybe he’s trying to remember it whenever he works to remind him to never act that way again?). You’d think after that whole mess that Miles would want to distance himself as much as he could from Manfred’s teachings, and from the way he handles himself in court in the AJ Trilogy I’d say he managed that.

However you’d think that he would’ve started with the easiest things to change, which would be what he wears to court. The cravat is really the only physical part of his appearance (that I’ve noticed) in the first game that was reminiscent of von Karma, so why keep it past AA1? I would think it would be torturous to consciously wear the same things as the person who ruined your life and showed no remorse when he was caught, who just before that tried to send YOU to jail for a murder you didn’t commit.

Maybe it’s similar to keeping his first suit framed in his office, to remind him of what not to be. But I feel like wearing the thing is a little close to home, you know? It’s not like he can see the cravat when he’s wearing it. Maybe because he can feel the neckwear no matter what. Like the von Karma teachings will wring his neck if he ever returns to them.

Or maybe it’s more like Franziska. When I was playing the trilogy I initially thought that maybe she hadn’t heard the full story about Miles’ trial in Japanifornia, only that THAT FOOLISH PHOENIX WRIGHT had bested both her little brother and her father first try in court, and wanted to avenge the von Karma name.

But she was still referencing the von Karma name as something to be proud of during AAI, which takes place 2-3 years after AA1. It could be a variety of things, like she could be in denial, or she could be using it as a coping mechanism in order to feel like nothing’s really changed in her life when in reality she’s dealing with the loss of a parent. Or it could also simply be posturing in front of others in order to not show weakness to anyone in her workplace.

However, my own conclusion is that she decided that her father is no longer worthy of the von Karma name. The day he decided to shoot Gregory Edgeworth was the day he forsook the name of von Karma, therefore she is simply refusing to acknowledge he was ever a part of her family. I began thinking this because of what she said in AAI: “I thought I’d never see the day that a disciple of the von Karma household would become a criminal!” (In reference to Miles getting falsely accused of a murder). Like she just doesn’t acknowledge her father at all by saying that statement. She only seems to consider herself and Miles as part of that name, which is really cute honestly.

So, my point is that Miles is on board with Franziska’s own decisions with reclaiming the very teachings that misled him for 15 years. He investigates the crime scene exhaustively even though as a prosecutor he probably wouldn’t need to. He never gives up as prosecutor, even if he may not agree personally with his own arguments (I say this in reference to AA5. I personally feel like if he was given the choice, he wouldn’t be so hard on Athena since she was in a very similar boat to himself so many years ago. However, he needs to do his job and looked to approach the matter similarly to how Apollo did: needing to present every possibility of guilt in order to prove her innocent without a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind, which is likely what he found a prosecutor’s job to really be).

Him continuing to wear the cravat long after Manfred’s sentencing (and probably execution) could be another example of this. To show to everyone that he is NOT turning his back on his teachings or his life for 15 long years, but instead reclaiming that part of his life as his own, to be proud of what he’s gone through and how much he’s grown. That despite how rough it was for him, he was still in control of who he wanted to be.

Or maybe I’m overthinking things and the artists just didn’t consider that when making his sprites for future games/didn’t want to make new sprites for AA2 and AA3

Request: Edgeworth Meets Edgeworth

Anonymous asked prozdvoices:

Prozd, could you please voice an arguing between rookie Edgeworth and investigations series Edgeworth (in a dream or crazy situation, dunno)? It would be kinda of a chalenge but it would be cool to show how he changed.

Consider it a magic dream sequence. I always found rookie Edgeworth’s outfit REALLY GOOFY.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #franziska von karma #manfred von karma #aa1 spoilers #aa5 spoilers #aai spoilers #solaire’s essays

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frehyun · 2 days ago

Text

In Sickness

hyunjin x gn!reader x changbin

warnings: none!

genre: sick fic, fluff

word count: 956

author's note: i'm sick as hell with the flu so this is pretty self-indulgent. i hope it's coherent because my brain is just as foggy, but i really wanted to write something while i can't work on other things that require a bit more brain power🥹 hope you enjoy, feel free to let me know what you think! 💗

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

Being sick was the worst.

Your nose was clogged up, your throat felt weird, raw and scratchy, your voice came out weird every time you tried to talk and your head was pounding from all the sniffing, your brain a foggy mess, making it difficult to focus on the most mundane tasks.

Seeing as you couldn’t even finish one of the tasks you had set out to do for the day, you grew frustrated and groaned loudly, attracting one of your boyfriends who trudged through the apartment to your room to see what was wrong.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?” – came Changbin’s voice from your doorframe as he leaned against it, a concerned frown gracing his face.

“I can’t even finish this thing that I wanted to finish writing. This sucks” – you pouted and made grabby hands at him.

Changbin sighed and took a few steps towards you before enveloping you into a tight hug, his big and strong arms feeling like a safe haven around you. Luckily, both of your boyfriends had already given in to physical contact with you, reasoning that if they were going to get sick, it was probably already too late anyways, so might as well not deprive you of cuddles in these trying times.

“How about you stop for today, I’ll make you a tea and tell Hyunjin to bring some snacks on his way home and we’ll just relax tonight and binge a series? Hm?”

You noticeably perked up at the suggestion, making Changbin slightly chuckle above you as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“Can I choose?”

“Hey, I’m in the minority anyways, you and Hyunjin always immediately agree when it comes to choosing what to watch” – he shrugged and scooped you out of your chair and up into his arms, easily carrying you to the living room where he placed you softly into the corner of your couch. He tucked you in before leaving to the kitchen, phone in hand to order Hyunjin around.

As he disappeared into the other room of your apartment, you sighed and sank further into the blankets and cushions surrounding you. You felt truly blessed to have not only one but two very attentive and sweet boyfriends. It quite honestly made you a little emotional, your already exhausted body wanting to tear up at the thought of two people you loved taking such sweet care of you.

You rubbed at your eyes before the tears threatening to spill over were able to escape down your cheeks and instead focused on browsing through the available shows for later.

Changbin came back in with two steaming mugs that he set on the coffee table in front of you, retreating quickly to get a third one that finds its home beside the other two. You giggled at his choice of mugs, each one being a specialised one that was specifically made with one of you in mind.

Changbin’s had a big Dwaekki on it doing deadlifts, surrounded by many, many hearts drawn by you and Hyunjin respectively.

Hyunjin’s had Jiniret drawing a beautiful bouquet of flowers, also surrounded by many hearts from you and Changbin

And yours had a cat on it, similar to Jiniret and Dwaekki, holding up a pen and paper and looking real smug about it. Of course, you also had your fair share of hearts drawn by both of your boyfriends surrounding the kitty.

The sight made you smile, seeing the mugs together like this. This time, however, you couldn’t catch your tears before they fell, alarming Changbin who was immediately at your sight.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

His hands hovered over your bundled up form, not wanting to accidentally cause any further pain. You felt kind of embarassed for bursting out into tears like this randomly, hastily shaking your head.

“No… Just overwhelmingly happy and touched, I guess?”

The visible confusion crossing over Changbin’s face wasn’t lost on you and you chuckled at the sight.

“I’m sick and you’re dropping everything to take care of me… Makes me feel so many things.”

At that, his gaze softened and he allowed himself to sit down next to you, caressing your thigh.

“Of course we would, you’ve done it countless times for us as well, angel.”

A short while later Hyunjin arrived at home with several bags hanging off his body.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just got a bunch of stuff!”

“That’s way too much.”

“You know I snack, they won’t go bad under my watch” – he grinned and plopped down on your other side, so he had one entire half of you for himself.

Not too long into the first episode of the drama you chose, Hyunjin clung to you like a koala as you leaned against Changbin’s shoulder, pressing his plush lips into your shoulder every now and then to reaffirm his presence beside you.

For the third time that day, you were close to crying. The warmth that spread throughout your body from being squished between your two boyfriends, one offering his strong and steady shoulder for you to rest your head on while the other acted like your personal weighted and heated blanket, made you want to cry.

Truly, what did you do to deserve the two of them?

Sniffing, you nuzzled further into Changbin’s shoulder and moved your body around, so Hyunjin could lie directly on top of you. You put your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer into your embrace, breathing his calming scent in as you grew tired.

If this is what being sick looked like with Changbin and Hyunjin by your side, you think you could survive the foggy brain for a few more days.

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 3 days ago

Note

Omg can I please get husband!bangchan x fem!reader plsplspls. My scenario is basically reader is stressed and can’t stop studying (uni) and bangchan sees that and helps her relax. (Daddy kink and praise plsplspls)

let me help you relax

pairing: daddy!husband!chan x fem reader

genre: smut with feelings

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, tiny bit of size kink, unprotected sex, implied subspace, i think that’s all.

an: i’m finishing this and posting it while im half asleep so im sorry for any mistakes or if it’s absolute trash. but i’ve been feeling particularly feral about him today and he’s been on my mind. so here’s some daddy!chan for you. ♡ love ya.

masterlist • consider leaving me a tip

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

your eyes were betraying you. they burned, closing of their own accord, begging for rest. you reached for your coffee, an empty energy drink can falling to the floor. you needed to study more. it’s finals time and you’re stressed. the exam you have tomorrow could make or break your degree. you stomach churned at the thought.

“baby, why don’t you take a break?” your husbands voice approached from behind, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. you were on edge and he wasn’t helping.

“oh that’s rich, coming from you.” you snapped. and you realized your mistake immediately. his grip on your shoulders tightened ever so slightly. it would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know your dynamic. but his voice is what gave you chills. it changed from sweet and doting, to serious. “oh really?” he said. you weren’t looking at him, but you could visualize his expression in your mind. he had at least one eyebrow raised, maybe both. it was the type of look that said: is this really how you want this to go?

and it wasn’t. you didn’t like being a brat. you were just stressed. “i’m sorry, daddy.” your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “i didn’t mean to snap at you. i’m just under a lot of pressure.”

“i know you are, baby.” he said, his hands on your shoulders starting to massage the knots out. “you’ve been studying so hard.” his hands felt amazing and you started to relax in his hold. he hummed a sweet sound and then placed a kiss on the top of your head. one of his hands started to snake around your shoulder and down under the neckline of your pajama top. “i think it’s time for a break.” he said, his fingertips finding your bare nipple. “don’t you?”

your breath caught in your throat and you nodded, all thoughts of exams lost. he was pulling you deeper and deeper into that soft, fuzzy space that you loved so much. he knew exactly what to do to get your mind off of things.

his other hand tilted your chin up, so you were looking at him. he was upside down, but that didn’t matter. he kissed you gently anyway, before pulling away and helping you stand. he led you from the desk, to your shared bed, pulling your top over your head along the way. your legs hit the bed frame and you let your body fall back onto the mattress. you pulled him down with you, your hands wrapped around his neck. he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you, his hands wandering.

“baby’s been working so hard.” he said, kissing down your jaw to your neck. he nibbled at the sensitive skin there, mumbling his words. “let daddy take care of you. let me help you relax.”

his fingertips found the top of your shorts and began dancing in and out of the material, teasing you. his lips travelled further down, his breath warm against your skin, as he took your nipple into his mouth.

“yes daddy.” you panted.

his tongue swirled around your hard nipple, his teeth grazing it ever so slightly. his hand finally went under your shorts and started playing with your most sensitive area. he tugged gently on the small amount of hair you kept. “mmm..” he hummed. “daddy’s gonna make you forget all about school baby..” his kisses were wet against your nipple. “gonna fuck you till your heads empty.. yeah?”

little did he know, your head was already empty. your mind was cloudy with nothing but him. his smell, his taste, the feel of his hard body against your soft one. he rutted his clothed erection against your thigh, groaning deeply.

he moved his tongue across your chest to your other nipple as he slipped a finger inside your wet hole. your hands balled in the sheets. you wanted to beg him for more, please more, but you couldn’t find the words.

“pussy’s so wet baby..” he mumbled around your nipple. “perfect little pussy.. wants daddy’s cock so bad, huh?”

your answering moan told him he was right, and he slipped another finger inside. he needed to prep you at least a little bit. he kissed his way back up to your lips, letting his tongue play with yours. you started to grab for his curls, to pull him closer, but he pulled away. you whimpered at the loss, pouting.

“don’t pout baby.” he said, poking your jutting bottom lip. “i’m just going to give you what you want.” he pulled his fingers out of you, and removed his shorts. that was the only thing he was wearing, a courtesy to you, as you told him you can’t focus on studying when he walks around naked everywhere. but now, you basked in his nakedness. stared at him and admired him. he truly was beautiful. and so incredibly sexy. he kicked his shorts to the floor and pumped himself in his hand a few times before kneeling between your legs.

he slid the head of his cock up and down between your folds, teasing your entrance and bumping your clit with every pass. “gonna let daddy stretch you out baby?” he asked. he smiled warmly down at you when you didn’t answer him. you just stared up at him with big, glassy eyes, silently begging him to fill you. “can’t talk, baby girl?” he cooed.

the tip of his cock slowly entered you, and he brought one of his hands up to cup your face. you turned your face toward his hand, finding comfort there. “here we go, baby. deep breath, okay?” you nodded and inhaled deeply through your nose. and as you slowly let it out through your mouth, he pushed until he bottomed out. it kicked the breath out of you at first and he knew to give you a moment before he started moving. “good girl baby. there you go. taking me so well.” he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, before slowly bringing that thumb to rub against your clit.

you whined under him, your body unable to hold still, it just felt so good. he started to move. started to thrust in and out of you, his length hitting that perfect spot over and over. “you’re so perfect, baby. daddy’s perfect girl.” his thrusts were getting faster now, your high quickly building. “that’s.. fuck.. that’s why i married you baby.” he grunted in between thrusts. “nobody takes daddy’s cock like you do, princess.”

you reached for him, trying to hold onto anything to help ground yourself. he gave you his hand. you gripped his smallest finger as he fucked you, his muscled chest and abdomen gleaming with sweat. “good girl, baby. hold onto daddy’s pinky.” your walls fluttered around him, your orgasm was right there.

“cmon baby.” his thrusts were harsh now, his skin slapping against yours as your arousal slipped down onto the sheets. “let go for me. squeeze my cock.”

you held onto his hand for dear life as your orgasm rocked through you, your body quivering with pleasure. “thank— thank you daddy.” you blabbered.

“fuck-“ he was starting to get sloppy, unable to control his hips when you felt so good cumming around him. “fuck- i love you baby. im gonna- fuck.. gonna cum.”

he stilled as he released inside of you, his cock twitching as he filled you up. your body fell limp against the mattress, and he reclined back on his heels. he pushed the damp hair out his face before looking down at you. you looked so fucked out, so happy. he smiled.

he leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips. your sleepy eyes fluttered open to look at him. he brushed your own hair out of your eyes and kissed the tip of your nose. “are you coming back to me now, baby?” he chuckled. “come back to earth, sweetheart.”

you smiled a dreamy smile at him. “love you.” you mumbled.

he said something else that sounded like “love you more.” before he climbed off the bed in search of something to clean you up with, but you were already drifting off to a very much needed sleep, dreaming of him.

your daddy.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#emmy answers #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x you #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjins orange slice too

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pixieishottogo · 2 days ago

Text

"Anything" ♡ Curly x Anya

art credit: seagummies on twitter

warnings: angst, topic of miscarriage

this is a good ending au of mouthwashing! if u are a hater, then dni🥰 this post aint for u, babe

Chapter 1

Jimmy had been dead for the past few months due to the crash. The crew has been slowly rotting. They have lost all hope, and for good reason. Daisuke and Swansea are unconscious because of hunger and exhaustion. Curly and Anya are slowly losing grip. Despite all this, the beautiful glowing screen still showcased the moon and stars. Curly's hair sticks to his face due to anxious sweat. "Well, we had a good run. Didn't we." Curly smiled. Anya laid beside him and she smiled despite the tears rolling down her face. "Yeah." Curly's breath hitches "Anya... I'm-”

Curly opened his eyes with a jolt. There he was, in the hospital. His whole body was aching. A nurse walked over to his bed, "How are you feeling, sir?" His eyes widened harshly. "Where is my crew?" He yelled. "Are they okay? Is Anya alive? I never got to tell her I'm sorry!" Curly's heart beat spiked. Thinking about Anya's distressed face made him feel nauseous from guilt. He placed his head in his hands, as if grappling with reality. The nurse spoke gently to try and to calm him down, "Everyone is okay. Some are still waking up." He sighed, feeling relieved. A doctor came into the room. "How did we survive? How are we home?" Curly was more than shocked. The doctor walked up to him, holding his papers. "Another space ship found you guys. Some astronomers were on an expedition in the area. You all were very lucky they were out there." The doctor said, cracking a smile. Curly looked down at his hands. "What room is Anya in? If you don't mind asking." Curly asked quietly. The nurse responded, "Room 25. And this is 24." After doing some basic checkups, and giving him some medicine for the pain, the doctor and the nurse left. Curly laid there, alone with his thoughts.

A few hours pass by, and unable to just sit and do nothing, Curly sneaks out of his room. He finds Anya sitting down in the lobby. The moon light shining on her in her hospital gown. She looked tired as usual, and mentally drained, but she still smiled faintly when she heard his voice. "Anya!" He cried out, limping towards her. She looks up at him and smiles with tears in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and cried. She held his head gently. "Anya... I-I I'm so sorry. I should have done something. You already had told me that you felt uncomfortable around him. I felt like I was losing my mind. I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry that I made it seem like I didn't care. I care so much. I will do anything you want to gain your forgiveness. We don't have to ever talk again if that's what you wish. I'm so sorry, Anya." The words came out almost pleadingly, and rushed. He couldn’t hold back a sob. "Captain-... Curly. Our worst moments don't define us. I don't blame you for what happened, we were in the middle of space. But it will still take me a long time to heal. Thank you." Anya was always the more quiet kind. She didn't know how to respond. After several quiet minutes spoke quietly, "I lost the baby." Curly looks up at her, his eyes slightly wide. To not offend her, he asked honestly, "How do you feel?" Tears rolled down her face, as she stared at the ground. "Empty.”

In the morning, Curly and Anya met up with Daisuke and Swansea. It seemed they were recovering well. The crew all sat together in the lobby. It was surreal, everything felt so much lighter. Almost happy. "How are you guys doing? What do you plan on doing after this?" Curly asked. Daisuke's face lights up, "That was totally crazy! I'm happy we survived. I can't wait to see my mom." Swansea pops in, "Heh, It will be nice to be with my family again. No more pony express. I get to be a retired lazy old man!" Swansea chuckles. Anya and Curly look at each other smiling. It felt like a dream.

A few days went by, and the crew slowly recovered. Everyone was released from the hospital once they were fully recovered. Getting back from the hospital was refreshing. The sterile white rooms grew to be nauseating. He could finally go home. Curly pulled up to his home, the sight of his big white house with blue shutters made him smile. That company never cared. Some random astronomers were the ones who cared enough to save them. He was free from that stupid job. He hated being glorified, he soon realized. Curly felt like a monster after everything that had happened. His loving pet guinea pig was waiting for him in his bedroom. Curly’s mother would take care of her every day while Curly was gone. Whenever anyone visits, they are surprised that he has such a small creature when he's such a big guy. Almost every time someone says the classic "Wow. I thought you would have a dog of some sort, captain." He sighed and flopped on the bed but gently held Daphne. He felt so relieved to be home, after all this time. But every time he tried to close his eyes, he would see Anya's crying face

☆

sooo this is my first fan fic ever that im gonna actually commit to😭 plz be patient. also, im gonna try to write the miscarriage plot as realistic as possible. i have had multiple friends and family that have suffered from miscarriages

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly x anya #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing

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hismercytomyjustice · 2 days ago

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FINALLY MY TIME HAS COME

But no, I don’t have cleaning/organization OCD. I moreso have “pure O” where most of my compulsions are “invisible” in that they’re mental.

Shit like ruminating thoughts which turn into OCD spirals I struggle to get out of. Mostly around morality and desiring unattainable levels of perfection in all things.

Like “if I do the thing, I have to do it perfectly” and then get stuck mapping out what “perfectly” is in my head. To the point I overwhelm and mentally exhaust myself and don’t do the thing. And then I get to deal with guilt spirals! Yay!

Which is why it crops up in places like “I need to walk my dogs” and “I want to learn piano.” Because I spend so much fucking time ruminating over “the best” way to do something.

Like with piano. I started taking lessons after agonizing over whether or not I should (ex. what if I don’t practice enough, what if I change my mind, what if I disappoint my teacher, what if I’m taking a spot from a potential student who was more dedicated, etc).

But I signed up! And I actually do practice! More than I’ve ever practiced an instrument before in my life! And I minored in music (specifically violin)! Which should make me feel fulfilled and proud and happy, right?

Right???!!!

NOT WHEN MY OCD GETS LOUD.

Then I get to experience Fun Things™ like panic attacks because I “haven’t practiced enough and I’m going to disappoint my teacher.” I’m also #blessed in that I tend to be a fast learner, so a lot of stuff comes fairly easily to me. Not piano! And my brain DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT THAT. Because WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’m not immediately good at something?!

Because to my OCD, me being good at something = me having value as a person. And if I’m not good at something or doing enough to get good at something, then “I am a failure, what am I doing with my life, I am a disappointment to myself and everyone unlucky enough to get caught in my orbit, I will never accomplish anything, why do I even exist (as in I have no purpose in life and will die one day knowing I never did anything worthwhile),” etc etc etc.

Which has led to having to unpack a lot of insecurities and all (see above) that I didn’t know I had. And has led to my therapist repeatedly telling me to stop being so mean to myself and to put less pressure on myself.

Lol I feel like 90% of my sessions with her are “here are all the ways I am failing to be a perfect person who gives 200% in all things” and her being like “…you know that is not actually possible right?”

Of course it isn’t! But try telling my OCD that!

So that’s how I go from “it’d be neat to learn piano” to “I will one day die knowing I squandered my life and somehow ruined everyone else’s lives in the process”!

Rinse and repeat! About every fucking thing in my life!

Yay!

But that’s what therapy is for! And OCD is NEVER CORRECT. So you just have to get up every day and live an exposure based lifestyle, constantly making yourself do or not do all the things your OCD tries to convince you are life and death should you ignore it.

And it gets easier the more you do it, but fuck it is a lot of work. And so much of it involves making sure you build a strong foundation for yourself so it’s harder to knock you off of it when life tries to take you out at the kneecaps with a baseball bat.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#actually ocd #incognito polls #tumblr polls #~ooh I’m mentally ill~#hismercy’s musings

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muchosbesitos · 4 hours ago

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DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

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