#crying wailing scratching at the door

[anachronistic-falsehood]

just read a jrwi fic and was gonna leave a kudos but i am blocked by the author?? on ao3?? literally first time this has ever happened 2 me…… i’m not blocked on their tumblr tho which is like. wild. wgat did i do on ao3 and not on tumglr…….

[kurooh]

ROUGH N ROWDY ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. when he’s rough with you, it only gets better and better.

⟡ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, kamo choso.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, various degrees of rough sex, spanking, face fucking, reader wears a skirt in choso’s, scratching, biting, one face slap, clit slapping, overstimulation.

⟡ xoxo, juno: my fav men <3 rbs are appreciated sososo much !!

— GOJO SATORU.

“fuck, so good..” satoru groans loudly, silencing your wails as he pushes your head deeper into the bed. he’s behind you, fucking your pussy with no regard for how rough he’s being.

he grips your hips so hard that his nails have left crescent moons indented into your skin, and it makes you cry into the sheets. satoru could always get a little rough, depending on the day and how you felt about it. but he’s always been really mean when he fucks you like this.

“toru, t-too rough!” you scream into the sheets, hole fluttering with delight when he slaps your clit.

“i don’t think so,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “seems like your pussy likes it, yeah? you’re always such a slut when i fuck you like this.”

your moans and cries are muffled when he slams your head further into the sheets, going so far as to rub your face in the puddle of drool you’ve created.

“aww, you’re sucking me in so greedily. i think i’ll keep slapping your slutty pussy, hm?”

he punctuates his statement with a stinging slap to your clit that has you sobbing, pushing back against him. satoru’s nails rake down your back, leaving puffy marks on your skin.

“satoru, harder!” you finally jerk your head to the side and stare at him, face messy with drool and tears.

his fingers thread through your hair as he adjusts your head and pushes you back down onto the sheets. “oh, but i might as well not touch you, huh? the agreement was to keep your face down, and your ass up.”

— GETO SUGURU.

“oh, come now, you can take it.” suguru’s voice is firm, and he accentuates his point with hard slaps to your ass. whiny, pathetic cries of his name leave your kiss-bruised and bitten lips as your head falls forward, eyes dazedly focusing on his cock pistoning in and out of you.

“s-sugu, please, it’s too much, i—” a slap to your ass, harder than the last, cuts you right off and has you moaning. your ass stings, the skin hot but still ready for more.

“hm, you wanted this, isn’t that right?” he groans, choking on pleasure as he tries to keep his voice still. the sound of his wet thrusts fill the car, the air heavy with sweat and the scent of sex. your fingers scrabble against the car door, nails biting into your palms when he thrusts particularly hard.

suguru’s cock slams into the deepest parts of you, punching moans from your throat every single time. he’s trying hard to be mean, keep his composure, but you’re squeezing him so tightly he can barely form a coherent thought.

“yes! yes, suguru, please go a l-little slower, it’s too much..” drool seeps from the corners of your lips, trickling down your chin as you pick your head up, craning your neck as much as possible.

behind you, suguru is smirking at you, the always loose piece of hair on the left side of his head sticking to his sweaty forehead. the rest of his lengthy tresses are pulled into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, strands escaping with the force of his thrusts.

“no can do, baby,” he whispers, fingers of one hand digging into the softness of your hip. “all that teasing earlier definitely calls for this.”

— NANAMI KENTO.

“i really hate having to work overtime, princess,” kento huffs, yanking your hair and making you arch, head turning towards him.

“i hate it too, kento!��� you cry, nodding. more tears fall down your cheeks with the movement, and he lets your hair slip from his hands as he moves to wrap his hand around your neck.

“think i want to pound you so hard we both forget i was late to dinner, hm, angel?” kento’s voice is sweet and steady, although he’s fucking your overstimulated pussy so hard it’s squelching and dripping.

you’re bent over and entirely at his mercy, stuffed full of his cock, the pressure so tight inside you you want to almost run away from it. the large, strong arm wrapped around your entire midsection and his hand on your throat keeps you in place, causing you to press your hands into the wall for support.

you’ve gone dumb on his cock, words slow to form and confused at the amount of times you’ve cum. five? eight? every time you try to form a coherent thought he fucks it away quickly, so you’ve resulted to responding only to what he says and thinking about nothing besides kento. he hasn’t even let himself cum yet, he’s that dead set on making you forget about dinner..

“k-kento, i’m gonna cum again, ah!”

“mhm,” he mumbles into your shoulder, before biting down hard into your skin. with a whiny cry, you sob as you cum again on his thick cock, walls squeezing down on him.

he allows you mercy, staying still as he holds you tightly, hips pausing. the second you loosen up, hole still fluttering, he’s immediately fucking into you again.

“kento, it’s too fucking much, i—”

he stands straight, yanking your hair so you’ll look back at him with that pretty, teary face of yours.

“no,” kento says firmly, lightly slapping your cheek. “you can still cum a few more times.”

— FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“fuuuck, s’good,” toji tightens his grip on the back of your head, fingers twisting hard in your hair. he pounds your throat at an unforgiving face, his hips rough and demanding as his tip plows into the back of your throat.

“takin’ it like a damn champ.. good fuckin’ girl.” he groans, his voice raspy as he tosses his head back. tears pour down your cheeks as he completely stuffs your mouth full with his cock, and you rake your eyes up and down his shirtless chest before settling on his face.

a thin sheen of sweat gleams on his well-muscled chest, heaving while his abs clench. distracted by his attractive body, you slowly, unconsciously start to back off his cock.

“nuh uh,” toji grits, swiftly yanking you back into place and shoving his cock deeply down your throat, “i haven’t cum yet.”

you gag loudly, more tears falling from your pretty eyes. but, toji doesn’t really give a damn — he draws his hips back and shoves them forward before he’s back to the tempo he’d set before. you spread your knees, sliding a hand between your thighs and pressing at your clit through soaked panties.

he scoffs, caught between a laugh and a raspy moan, and smirks. “love it when you’re a slut for my fuckin’ cock. that’s real good..”

— KAMO CHOSO.

your back hits the wall, and a sharp crack of pain resonates through your body before choso’s pouncing on you, yanking your skirt up your thighs without hesitation.

“c-choso, slow down!” you gasp, but he just spreads your legs and slides his pants down. “my skirt’s not even off yet, wait—”

“mm mm, need this. need you.” choso leaves no room for discussion as he slots himself against you, hot and hard and pressing between your legs. “it’s been too damn long,” he states, tugging and rolling your shirt up to your shoulders.

his large palms smooth against your thighs, and he looks into your eyes and then shifts his gaze to your neck. “mhm, please..” is all you answer, voice soft as your hips buck into his own.

choso’s hand lands on your neck and he digs his fingers into the sides, not gripping yet, and tugs your soaked panties to the side. then he guides his cock between your folds, and shoves himself right inside you. your leg lifts, and he holds it tightly at his side, keeping you spread open.

as you gasp “choso!” he grips your neck hard, effectively choking you and making your eyes roll right back. with his lips pulled back and his teeth catching the low light of the room, he leans in towards your tits. teeth dig into your skin as he bites your nipple sharply, and your chest bounces as you reel back in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“oh, that hurts like hell,” you groan, slipping a hand into his messy hair and undoing his spiky buns; then you push him in. “bite me harder.”

choso’s grip on your neck tightens further, teeth baring down on your other tit in a flurry of bites, his hips slamming into you all the while.

you choke, garbling out some sort of expletive, and his thrusts are so fast and hard that you consider that they sting just a little. the thought of the little shocks of pain all over has you clenching on his cock like a vice, growing wetter and wetter.

his groan into your tits is whiny, and then he’s spasming and filling you with all his cum.

choso finally tugs himself off your tits, lips shining with drool. looking down, you see that your tits are bruised and fresh marks are blooming across your skin. cum starts to drip down his cock, and yet he still pushes himself into you with a whine. but he still stays hard inside of you — he loves to throw you around, mark you up, and use you like a fucking fleshlight, even though it means overstimulating himself too.

[diejager]

Hiii，I really like your story about Ghost x bunny！reader.Can you please do moreee🥺🥺🥺💖🐰

Needy Bunny Cw: heat/mating cycle, breeding kink, rough sex, mating press, doggy style, unprotected sex, PinV, tell me if I missed any.

You clawed at the sheets, hips bucking back, rutting against the heated palm of his scarred and calloused hand, fingers filling you so well. Your bed smelled like him, something familiar you associated with comfort and safety, gorging on his rich and powerful scent. He smelled like blood and gunpowder, itching you sensitive nose, and the soft tone of something woody —an addictive bourbon and calm sandalwood.

You crooned softly, burying your face deeper into his many shirts, mask and blanket, all infused with his aged scent and sweat, masking you in his scent, drowning in the delicious smell of him. You were clouded by a primal need, to be bred and nurse little kits in your stomach, you didn’t have any sensible thought inside your head, all you wanted was to smell like Ghost and bear his kits by becoming his.

When thrown into the throes of your heat - vicious and unforgiving - you became dumb and needy, wandering the halls of the base for Ghost and pawing at him until he brought you to his room. The moment he closed and locked the door, you were naked and kneeling on his bed, face down on his pillow, drooling over the musky cloth and ass up, showing him how wet and needy you were, cunt winking and clit throbbing from the cool air in his room —it helped with the warmth you exhumed from your heat, body burning so much calories to sustain you during it.

You were deaf to Ghost’s degrading words, uncaring by how mean his words were or how rough he was, all that mattered was that he was using you, his fingers straight as they drove in, hitting your g-spot. Slick dripped from his wrist, your sweet cunt oozing it, transparent and salty fluid tasting sugary on his tongue, his mask rolled up his nose to press the flat of his tongue against your twitching nub, swirling around it wile he pumped you with three, thick fingers.

You whined when he pulled out his fingers, tongue pushing into your hole and slurping down your slick, swallowing your sweet cum in gulps. He drank up your little mewls, sound more like a cat than a bunny, his hand roved over your thighs and around the swell of your ass, spanked red from acting like a little whore in front of other men, and grabbed your snowball-like tail, harshly pulling on it to get a reaction out of you. You yipped loudly, back arching and trying to get out of his tight hold on your sensitive tail, the twitching ball stuck between his fingers even as he pressed the round head of his cock against your clenching hole, tip nudging your entrance —teasing you.

“Please-” you wailed, sobbing for relief you knew that only he could give you, something to fill you up and keep you full until this heat passed. “Ghost, please-”

He kept you still, one hand on your hip and the other still tugging at your tail, he drove in with a sharp snap, thrusting his whole length in one, rough go that had you keening, loud, whorish sounds slipping from your tongue as your eyes rolled back, walls squeezing him as you came. He was warm, cock snugly sitting inside of you, he was as heavy as he was thick, the girth covered in veins and the base in trimmed, musky hair.

He took a few experimental thrusts, rough and unsteady, before he bottomed out completely, heavy balls slapping your engorged clit. Ghost set deep and hard pace, his sculpted hips snapping against your sensitive ass, using his grip on you to hold the pace, plunging in, the leaky tip of his uncut cock slamming into your spongy cervix, veins scratching at your clenching walls, frenum piercings, three starting from the base up rubbing you deliciously.

With how high stung you were, body shuddering and cunt spamming with another upcoming climax, it didn’t take you long before you came a second time. Bursting with a cry, legs kicking and trembling beneath you, you bucked your hips against him, pushing him deeper into you. You were squirming so much so that he had to turn you over, manhandling you from your presented position to a mating press, bent in half with your legs hanging from his broad shoulders, taking him again and again - even as you came twice or thrice, coating him in your juice, his navel and balls wet down to his thighs - until he had his fill.

“You want a kit, is that it?” He growled, forearm pressing down on your throat without putting any lethal force, simply to hold you down, to keep you restrained to your nest, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll knock you up, yeah? Put a little rabbit in that cunt of yours, breed you nice and deep.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan

[tojipie]

I'm a huge fan of your work and I would love to see a dilf!toji fan fiction where you accidentally walk in on him changing and it goes a bit further while megumi's home🙏🙏🙏

part 1 here

shaking crying and throwing up as the kids say

warnings: dilf!toji x reader, nsfw, almost getting caught, age gap

────────────────────────

“think that’s it for tonight.” megumi mumbles, turning the newly painted mound of clay to the side to gauge your shared work.

it goes without saying that you and your closest friend had spent the weeks leading up to the deadline planning, but not actually doing your final sculpting project, leading to an equally desperate and passive aggressive all-nighter.

you both of you were absolutely caked in paint, but the satisfaction of finally being done was well worth it. you stand up for the first time in over 4 hours, hissing at they way your back protests.

your feet tingle as blood rushes down to your legs, the aches in your body becoming more apartment.

“god, what is it— like 11?” you ask, massaging your neck with the back of your hand.

megumi grabs his phone to look at the time, scratching off a smear of dried pain with a scoff.

“it’s 1 am.” he laughs, tucking the device into his pocket with a sigh. “you ubering home or do you want my dad to take you?”

you perk up at the second option, gathering yourself before you respond.

“i mean yeah i feel like that’d be a lot safer.” you say, only half lying. “is he still up?” you knew he was up, in fact you knew if you hadn’t been practically right outside his bedroom for the past 4 hours he’d be texting you right now.

your sculpting partner motions to the kitchen door with a nod of his head, wordlessly gathering his materials up. “go check, i’m going to bed.”

you laugh, gathering your things and padding out into the hall.

“nite gumi.” you tell him, hoping it wasn’t too late in the night for the both of you to get a decent nights sleep.

———

you secretly hope toji is waiting for you as you fix your makeup in the mirror, leaning down to meticulously washing the paint from your hands and arms in an attempt to look presentable.

megumi hadn’t noticed it was you in his father’s bed the last time you snuck over, taking toji’s sly suggestion to “drive his little friend home” as an ill intended joke.

he opted to drive himself to the concert instead, accepting the ridiculous $100 venue parking fee in exchange for his peace of mind.

you, on the other hand, had gotten the opportunity to wail your lungs out as loud as you needed once the house was empty, going round-for-round with the massive wall of muscle that was your best friend’s dad.

and now, here you were in his bathroom, washing up in the sink as quickly as you could before feeding yourself to the lion.

you slip into the dark hallway as quietly as you can manage, cringing at the stale creak of the bathroom door.

the house is barely lit with the dim light from the kitchen gone. you figure megumi had shut it off before going to bed, thinking you and toji had already left.

you feel your way down the corridor of rooms, silently opening the door to your destination before stopping cold in your tracks.

“you should knock ya’know.” a deep voice crones.

you yelp as you’re pulled into his bedroom, the sound muffled by a solid hand over your mouth.

“shhhhh.” toji chuckles, caging you against the door. the older man leans down to mouth at your neck, feeling you up as you catch your breath.

“you have a real volume problem, pretty girl.” he teases.

you laugh, cradling his head as it settles in the curve of your neck. his shirt is half off already, bunched around his shoulders. you must’ve caught him changing.

“what, were you waiting on me?”

“men have needs don’t they?” he says quietly, leaning in to kiss you.

thick hands settle around the curve of your waist just under your breasts and pull you backwards, leading you towards the bed.

“was—fuck—gonna text you.” toji whispers between kisses, palming your chest underneath your shirt. the older man pulls you into his lap from where he sits on the edge of the mattress, rucking your shirt above your head to mouth at the top of your breasts.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“knew you’d come find me.”

your cheeks burn at his admission. he was right, as embarrassing as it was you both knew how often you found yourself under him on nights like these.

and whether or not you’d begun hanging out at megumi’s just to see his dad was a question you didn’t want to address, and one that toji already knew the answer to.

you say nothing, opting to palm the man below you through his boxers while he finally undresses his top half. toned abs clench tight as you squeeze his cock through the fabric, guided only by the small sliver of moonlight bleeding from his curtains.

“harder.” he groans, bucking into your hand.

“miss me?”

“always miss you.” toji mumbles, motioning for you to stand so he can strip you of your bottoms.

you’re pulled on top of him as soon as your shorts hit the floor, leaning in to kiss him again. the older man licks into your mouth with fervor, toying with the waistline of your thin panties.

toji breaks the kiss, snapping the elastic against your hip. you flinch at the sharp sting, whimpering into his neck as he grips your ass

“you wear these for me?” he asks.

you nod, letting him slip them off. he gives them a once over, smiling as he reaches to throw them onto the night stand.

“keeping em.” he laughs, pulling himself free from the confines of his bottoms.

he’s throbbing, steadily leaking onto his own thigh with every passing second. you lean down to accept him into your mouth, pausing when he pulls you back up to him.

“just get on top of me.” he begs, grabbing hold of the backs of your thighs and reclining into the pillows.

“need it that bad?” you ask, genuinely curious. you watch as he grabs hold of his cock, lining it up with ease—practically muscle memory.

“wouldn’t need it this bad—oh fuck— if you hadn’t been busy the entire night.” he groans, complaint interrupted by the feeling of you sinking down onto him.

“could fuck me when the sun’s out, you wouldn’t have to wait all day that way.” you suggest, only half serious.

“the only thing stopping me from doing that is work, pretty girl.” toji mumbles. you gasp as he twitches inside you, sinking down all the way to watch what little composure he still has crumble.

your knees protest as you bounce on the older man’s cock, body still sore from the workload you’d dealt with earlier.

“you could’ve just—fuck— came out and said hi.” you add, noticing the way the scar on his lip contorts when he smiles.

“can’t really walk around with a hard-on.” he admits with a sleazy grin, taking one of your breasts into his mouths for good measure.

your shared moans grow louder with every thrust, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming unmistakable.

“fuck is that noise?” a sleepy voice yells from the hallway.

you freeze. pulling away from toji to gauge his reaction.

“fuck, get underneath.” he chuckles, practically pulling you off of his cock with how easily he manhandles you, making space for you to crawl into the sheets.

you’re struck with what feels like another heart attack as a knock at the door pierces the air.

“do you have another girl over?” megumi scoffs pacing behind the doorway.

“you sleepwalking or something?” toji lies, clearly not considering the consequences of getting caught.

you feel him pull the sheets over your head with a soft laugh. warm hands rubbing over your sides through the thin fabric, a sweet attempt at calming you down.

“i’m not stupid.” his son replies, kicking the foot of the door for good measure. “did you even drive my friend home?”

“she ubered, kid.” toji lies again, groping your breast over the thin sheet. you yelp at the sudden contact, earning a teasing “shhhh” from the man above you.

“fucking knew you brought someone over.” megumi sighs, trudging down the hallway with vague threats of “you’re paying for my dorm room next year.” and “can’t keep it down.”

you emerge from the covers, arms snaking around toji’s shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“what’d i tell you about that volume problem?” he laughs, lowering you onto his still hard cock with a breathy groan.

“fuck, did you get wetter or somethin?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.

“course not!” you mouth, stifling a whimper as he begins to thrust.

“i know honey.” he teases, biting the curve of your shoulder to stifle a groan. “i’m just fuckin’ with you.”

[hazbinwhoree]

Adam x reader whos rlly rlly drunk and strangely asking for... Err baby making.

And adam is rlly hesistant because reader has a very low sex drive...

So when adam refuses (because hes all about boundaries and consent) reader cries and just kinda vents about shit that has no relate to baby making or even anything about tht night.

And in the morning she wakes up so fresh and happy and has no memory of last night, even being so affectionate to adam<333

Consent King

(Name) had a much lower tolerance than Adam, so it didn’t take long into their drinking before (Name) was absolutely wasted. Adam had a nice buzz going, but quit to take (Name) home.

As soon as they were in the door, (Name) was immediately on him, trying to kiss him. Adam let her kiss him, but when her hands moved down to fumble with his belt, he stopped her. “Woah, babe-” “Let’s have sex,” (Name) slurred.

Adam was taken aback. (Name) was very rarely the one to initiate sex, and he was very tempted to take her up on it. But she was sloshed. He steadied her with large hands holding her shoulders. “As much as I would love that, you’re pretty trashed, babe.”

To Adam’s shock, (Name) burst into tears. “You don’t find me attractive anymore,” she sobbed. “What? Babe, no!” “It’s truuue,” she cried, slurring her words slightly. “You don’t want meee.”

Adam was flabbergasted. “(Name), that’s not true! You’re just really drunk right now.” “So?” “So you can’t consent. I’m a lot of things but I’m not a fucking rapist.”

(Name) continued to cry. Adam was at a loss.

“I wish I was prettier,” (Name) blurted out suddenly. Adam frowned. “You’re hot, babe, what are you talking about?”

“No,” (Name) wailed. “All your groupies are so much hotter than me, I don’t even know why you chose me.” Before Adam could even respond, (Name) continued. “You’re probably cheating on meee.”

Adam shook his head, stunned. “I’m not… why would you think that?”

(Name) shrugged and sniffled. “Because look at *hic* you, then look at me. You could do so much better.”

Adam pulled her into his arms. “I love you. I’m not cheating on you. You’re the hottest bitch in the world to me. My groupies are whores, they don’t mean shit. Stop being a dick to yourself.”

(Name)’s tears slowed as she cuddled into Adam’s chest. “Really?” she asked quietly.

“Really.”

A moment of silence.

“‘M tired,” (Name) slurred. Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised. You’re wasted.” “Whateverrr.” When she turned towards the stairs and stumbled, Adam scooped her up bridal-style.

“I can wa-alk,” (Name) protested.

“Shut up.”

Adam carried her upstairs to their bedroom. He cradled her in one arm while he pulled the covers back, before gently tucking her into the bed. He crawled into bed next to her. Protectively, he draped his wing over her and pulled her into his chest.

(Name) slung an arm over his waist, gripping the shirt material at his back. It didn’t take long at all before (Name) was fast asleep. After watching her for a while, Adam himself fell asleep.

He woke up to (Name) running her fingers through his hair and gently scratching at his scalp. “Good morning,” she cooed. Adam sighed contently. “You’re feeling better.” (Name) was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Oh you were a mess last night,” Adam teased. “You wanted to have sex and I said no because I was pretty sure you were blacked out, and boom, I was right. Anyway, you lost your shit a little.”

(Name) looked embarassed. “Oh my god, I’m never drinking again.”

Adam laughed. “It’s okay, babe, I still thought you were cute. Even when you were drunk crying.”

(Name) tapped his head. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

Adam laughed. He couldn’t help but tease her. “Seriously though, you were fine,” he reassured her.

“But now that you’re awake and sober, wanna have sex?”

[savannahsdeath]

Can we get something where Ellie is injured and when reader takes care of her she feels embarrassed bc she doesn't want to seem weak. But then she like starts crying about "not being strong enough" and just have some cute fluff from reader <33

AHHHZHSBHX i love writing fluff sm like its so comforting !!

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: minors safe i think?? blood, crying

writers note: its kinda short n all but omghauzb i love ellie sm i need to give her a biiiiggg hug and just never let go like😓🩷my poor baby:(

you intensively listened to the sharp ticking of the clock, waiting for something that'd break the cycle. for someone, actually. for your precious girlfriend ellie, which had a patrol somewhere around jackson. you stayed quiet, listening intently for any signs of her. the sounds of the clock in the background seemed to taunt you, like a reminder of how much time was passing and you had to wait even longer to hear news from her.

it was something about midnight when she finally came knocking on the door, completely soaked in freezing rain. her hair was wet, her face drenched, she looked miserable. you rushed to get a towel to help her dry her hair and body.

when you were done you wrapped your hands around her. she hissed and you instantly pulled away, giving her a pout of pure worry and concern. your eyes inspected her body, without effect. your hands reached out for her top, wanting to take it off and look for any injuries, but she firmly gripped your wrists.

"babe, stop." she said, and maybe you'd listen to her, if her voice didn't sound like begging. and if she begged, she was hiding something.

you freed your hands and rolled her shirt up, revealing a nasty wound on her side. it looked like bullet scratch and it was a miracle - a few millimeters to the left and the shot would pierce her waist.

ellie mumbled a quiet 'fuck...' as her attempt to hide it from you failed. she did her best to look unfazed and pretend to not be in pain, knowing it'd only add to the embarrassment.

ellie sighed and pulled your hands away from the wound, pushing you back. she took a deep breath, the pain evident on her face, and rolled her shirt back down.

"it's fine, i'm fine." she falsely reassured, her shaky voice betraying her attempt to sound tough. she forced a weak smile, trying to play down your worries, but you could tell she wasn't okay.

"ellie, you're bleeding!" you shook your head, your eyes darting back and forth from her wound and her face.

you dragged her to the bedroom, taking a first aid kit from the bathroom on the way. she stayed silent as you softly but forcefully sat her on the bed and started preparing everything.

"this will... sting a bit." you warned her before looking at the disinfectant. you knew it'll do way more than just 'sting a bit'.

ellie avoided looking at you, hating how vulnerable the whole situation makes her feel. she gritted her teeth as you started cleaning the wound, trying to maintain her composure as best as she could. you could hear her breathing get heavier as the pain began to set in, but she was too proud to let you see her cry.

as you continued to work, she looked away from you, ashamed that you had to fix her mistakes. she knew she should have been more careful and hated how weak she appeared in front of you.

"i'm sorry for making you do this." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

ellie sucked in a sharp breath and clenched the sheets as you applied the disinfectant. a wave of pain washed over her, but she managed to stay silent and hold back a scream.

you finished cleaning the wound and began to bandage it, being careful not to hurt her any further. as you worked, you heard ellie sniffle as she struggled to hold back her emotions. you looked up and saw that ellie is watching you with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she was biting her lip to hold back a wail of agony and relief.

"thank you..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"don't mention it." you said, your eyes full of sympathy for your suffering girlfriend. you gave her a reassuring smile, best you could manage as her pain hurt you too.

ellie took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as the pain subsided, but she couldn't hold back her tears any longer. she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed bitterly, her whole body shaking with emotion.

you gently wrapped her in a hug, holding her tight to give her some comfort. you whispered reassuring words in her ear, trying to calm her down.

"it's alright- sh, shhh..." you stroked her hair in an attempt to provide some solace. "i'll always be here for you, love."

her arms desperately seeked for support in your body, as her tears slowly dropped and soaked into your shirt.

"how can i keep you safe if i can't even take care of myself?" she mumbled, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against your chest.

you continued to hold ellie in your arms, trying to provide her with the comfort and reassurance she needed.

"you're always taking care of me, and now it's my turn to take care of you." you whispered, gently stroking her hair.

ellie looks up at you, her eyes full of gratitude. you feel her embrace tighten as she clings to you for support.

"my strong, amazing els." you smile, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

you held ellie for what seemed like an eternity, neither of you wanting to let go anytime soon. as you continued to cradle her in your arms, you could feel her warm tears running down your chest, now even beneath your shirt.

you felt her begin to calm down, her sobs easing up and her grip on you gradually loosening. suddenly, she pressed her body against you even tighter, almost like she was afraid of losing you after you've provided her with such comfort.

"i love you." she whispered, burying her head in your chest.

you continued gently stroking ellie's hair, unable to stop smiling at her confession.

"i love you too." you whispered back, as if you just shared a really important secret with her, hugging her tightly.

you felt her relax, her body going limp as she nestled into your chest. it felt like time has stopped, and the two of you together in the moment was all that mattered.

you pressed your forehead against ellie's, looking deep into her green eyes.

"always, forever." you added, before sharing your first kiss in a long while.

[leaentries]

don’t worry, i’m here | nico hischier

summary: when nico’s girl has reoccurring nightmares, he just wants to help her

warnings: brief descriptions of anxiety, drowning, emptiness, a little bit of swearing

wc: 800+

Sweat formed at the top of your hairline, hands gripping the pillow below your burning hot skin. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to toss and turn in the shared king bed. Fear trembled through your body. The horrifying images flashed through your closed eyes, your breath picking up rapidly. Your body began to shake as tears finally began to pour down your reddened cheeks. 

This recurring nightmare had been plaguing your sleep for weeks, you had yet to figure out why. The thought of having to relive the god-awful dream again was enough to have you clinging to the coffee machine on the marble countertops, desperate to fill your body with artificial energy. With Nico being gone on a roadie, your dream only intensified. 

The vast empty space was deafening. No noise, yet it was impossibly loud. There was no movement, but still, your eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything specific. Everything was too blurry, too vague. You began to walk forward, hoping to find some solace from the deep pitted loneliness in your abdomen. That’s when you saw him, Nico. 

You picked up your speed, craving his arms to ground you back to reality. Yet, the closer you got the farther he would move. You ran for what felt like hours, chest heaving and a panging soreness had taken home in your ribs. Your body felt heavy as anxiety scratched at your throat. You came to a stop. You doubled over, trying your best to breathe properly. Looking up at the inky sky, you felt the sobs leave your mouth, “N-neeks? Nico?” You asked. 

But no reply came. Nico was gone. 

You closed your eyes, head still tilted upwards. Just when you finally felt like you could breathe again, a wetness licked at your bloody knees. Peering down, you noticed water began to rise quickly, now covering your mid-thighs. You stood up, frantically searching for any sort of high ground. Nothing. There was nothing or no one to help you. As the water rose your body from the ground, you tried to swim, attempting to keep your head above the waterline. 

Panic set in as your body began to sink. No matter how hard you paddled, your body sank lower and lower, until you finally sucked in your last breath. Dunking under the water, your lungs began to burn, throat constricting with the need for air. The pain was so unbearable, your mouth finally opened to scream.

You shot up in bed, your own scream waking you from the ghastly nightmare. Tears streamed down your face in thick rivers as you blubbered into the comforter. The twinge of relief was soon diminished as you looked to Nico’s cold side of the bed. 

Damn it. 

Your body craved Nico’s assuring presence more than anything right now, but he wasn’t due home until the next day. More sobs racked your clammy figure, guttural cries muffled into the walls of your room. If you weren’t so caught up in your mind, maybe you would have heard the door open, paired with the rushing footsteps leading to the bedroom. 

“Y/n?” Nico’s frantic body ran to you. Still to out of it, you continued to cry as his arms pulled you into his chest. You wailed into his hard muscles, clinging onto his biceps. Nico’s face showed nothing little of pure worry and agony. His heart felt like it was physically being ripped out of his body at the sight of you.

He cradled you as close as he could manage without crushing your trembling figure.  

His hands stoked your hair soothingly, trying his best to calm you down. Gently rocking your form, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

���Don’t worry, I’m here.”

“Nico’s got you, schatzi. No need to cry.”

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here, baby.” 

"It's okay, it's okay. You're okay."

Once you had finally calmed down enough to register what was happening, you lifted your head from Nico’s chest. “N-neeks?” You croaked, voice hoarse from the screaming and crying. Your bloodshot eyes met his own and Nico nearly lost it. 

“Shhh, schatzi. I got you, you don’t need to worry about anything right now.” He spoke softly, so as to not raise your anxiety. 

You laid your head back onto Nico’s chest as he maneuvered you both to be lying down. He placed his warm hand on your back and the other on your head, holding your body protectively. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a few moments. 

You shook your head, still not quite ready to face that dream again. “I just want you to stay. Please stay, Nico” You begged. Your hands dug into the material of his shirt, scared he would disappear. 

“I’m not going anywhere, schatzi. I’ll be by your side until you tell me to go.” 

[slashv1xen]

pov: ur comforting bo sinclair after he’s being emotional

gn!reader x bo sinclair - hurt/comfort + fluff

a/n note: this is just a self indulgent post, hope you enjoy! (TW: implications of childhood abuse, slight swearing)

you had just finished washing the dishes when you heard faint sobbing coming from upstairs. ‘who could that be?’

you walked up the stairs and opened a bedroom door. inside, was bo crying his eyes out (but as quietly as possible), a scattered pile of photos of him and his family as kids and scrunched up balls of tissues. as soon as the door opened his head whipped around to the door, his eyes red and watery.

the both of you made eye contact, both of your mouths slightly agape. bo immediately turned red and sniffled, avoiding your gaze and rubbing his tears aggressively.

“oh bo…” you say softly, walking to him and sitting on the bed next to him. he looked down, clearly embarrassed. you sighed, and cupped his face with one hand. “bo, you don’t need to hide your emotions from me, it doesn’t make you any less of a man. i want you to feel safe with me, and i want to you to know that you can always talk to me, okay?”

he looked up at you, his lip quivering as he obviously tried to hide his crying. " 'm not cryin', it's the damn dust in this room," he said as strongly as possible, however his voice broke in the middle of his sentence.

you looked down at the photos and held one, looking at the picture of a 10yo bo holding a fishing pole and a large grin on his face, the scars on his wrists appearing fresh.

"you crying over your upbringing? look bo, i know you've had a shit upbringing and i am so sorry, but whenever you feel this way please come to me, i'll never let anything like that happen to you again, alright?" you set the photo down on the bed, and your eyes met with bo's, who's eyes were wide open.

his eyes began welling up with tears again, but he looked away from you, gripping the sheet under him so tight his knuckles turned white.

"oh bo..." you whispered. you gently got up from the bed and sat on his lap (much to his surprise), and you cupped his face with your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. "what, what 're you doin'?"

"you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. i'm not here to force anything out of you, just let me hold you."

this sent him over, he couldn't contain his feelings like he usually does after you said this. he looked down and started quietly sobbing, and you pulled his head into your chest. you felt your shirt getting wet and his hands gripping onto your shirt so tight you were surprised it didn't rip. you wrapped your arms around his head, running one hand through his hair and the other scratching his back lightly.

"shh, i'm here bo, let it all out.." you cooed, kissing him every so often on the crown of his head. like clockwork, he started crying harder, his quiet wails getting louder.

this went on for some time, until he stopped (after around 20min). he looked up at you, with red eyes and damp cheeks.

“i love you so much, you know that right? i am-” you begin to say, when bo pushed his lips to yours, kissing you softly, never wanting this moment to end.

[mochatsin]

THE BROTHERS ACCIDENTALLY INJURING MC (mildly)

Despite all their efforts to technically baby-proof the house, the school, or even the entirety of Devildom if they could for their human… accidents do happen after all. They’re just glad that you’re not more hurt than they initially thought!

MC is not gravely injured! Just some scratches and bruises at most. Not sure if I’ll write something for more serious injuries scenarios but we’ll see, that will be definitely super angsty for sure.

------------

Lucifer

He was not having it that day. Stacked reports full of complaints in regards to Mammons behavior, property damages caused by Beel’s hunger, and his pen cursed by his brothers to wail and cry whenever it’s used, Lucifer can feel himself about to explode at the next sign of inconvenience in the house while he replaces the pen to go back to work.

It’s when he hears a loud crash in the living room does he feel like he’s going to snap the pen with just his fingers. “I swear when I get my hands on those idiots…” he basically stomps his way to the door before slamming it open.

He heard a loud THUMP! From the door, but not against the wall as he expected. He paused and closed the door only to find you on the floor, rubbing your forehead. You were on your way to see how the eldest was doing and just as you were about to open the knob, the door slammed against you with enough force to make you fall back. 

All that anger immediately dissipates when he finds you and immediately kneels down on the floor to check on you. “MC! Are you alright?!” Thankfully the impact wasn’t too much to draw any blood, though you’re certain you’ll get a bruise and it still hurts like hell that it’s making you dizzy. 

Lucifer doesn’t want to be the cause of your tears. He helps you up gently with a worried look on his face “Come, rest in my office chair. I’ll get that treated before it starts to bruise.” it hurts him more if you struggle with standing straight.

He’ll come back with an ice pack in hand, locking the door behind him as he goes next to you to inspect your forehead and how much damage he indirectly caused. Of course he didn’t mean it but he still feels bad regardless. 

He makes up for that by treating it, and he’s very gentle with you when he slightly dabs the ice pack on your forehead. His words are soft as he asks if you were okay before placing a kiss on your head. 

“How come you locked the door though?” you would ask and before Lucifer can even speak, you hear the brothers banging on the other side when they heard you hit your head. “... Ah”

Mammon 

There’s not a quiet day in Devildom when Mammon is always stirring up things. Demons and witches are always on his tails until he pays any of his debts that he never seems to have the money for. 

There was one particular incident where you were trying to look for him in school since you have so much schoolwork to do, and Mammon was the one who insisted you both be partners for this project. Yet he’s nowhere to be found. 

Of course he was running away from a few students who owed a few Grimm from. He’s grateful for being really speedy since he can use this to his advantage, but when he’s got his eyes on the coins on his hands it’s hard to pay attention to where he’s going. 

He takes a sharp turn by the halls and he accidentally bumps into you, who was carrying all the project materials. Given his strength, you stumble back harder than you thought and drop everything on the floor. 

“ACK! Shit– MC?! Come on, they’re on our tails!” He held your hand so you both could start running but you winced. Mammon paused and gasped when he saw the scratches on your delicate soft human skin from when you hit the concrete floor. 

Mammon had no choice but to carry you all the way while avoiding the demons running after you both. When it was all safe, he checked you in case of more wounds head to toe. Would panic if there was any blood. Luckily you just got a few minor scratches on your hands and nothing too bad.  

“Asmo’s gonna kill me if he saw what happened to your hands… ya okay though? Tell me if it still hurts and let's find em angels to patch ya up” he would beg Simeon not to tattle on the brothers, since they would not let him hear the end of it if they found out you got hurt. Lucifer would punish him for this happening under his watch (and his actions), even if it was an accident.

If your skin can get so damaged from just falling, Mammon can hardly imagine the worst case scenario. He keeps a close eye on you whenever there are large crowds, making sure you hold his hand the whole trip so he’s sure you won’t fall like that again. 

There are times you can feel his thumb brush against the skin of your palms where it was previously damaged. You know he feels a bit guilty for that, so you intertwine your fingers as a way to reassure him. 

Levi

Levi has been waiting for this package and now that it’s by his doorstep, he’s absolutely ecstatic. It was a VR set complete with this game from one of his favorite franchises. He hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks at all and his brothers can finally get some peace and quiet in the house… they were wrong. 

One would say that Levi looks a bit silly walking around the house with the headset on. The VR game was about slaying demons (ironically) but he gets to interact with the characters in 3D so whenever he sees his favorite, he would let out an excited squeal. 

Lucifer instructed you to follow him while he plays to make sure he doesn’t wander off somewhere or break anything. You just have to make sure to gently turn him to the right directions or hide the glassware away from reach. 

It was doing fine for a while until you took your eyes off him for a second and he’s already walking dangerously near the stairs. You know that demons can survive a stumble like that but that doesn’t mean you’ll let that happen to him! So you dive in, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie and yanking him away from the steps. 

Unfortunately, you both lost your footing and fell backwards on the floor with Levi landing on top of you. Levi was surprised and a little disoriented as he took off the headset, only to find himself above you. “W-WHA—!! MC?!?! What’s going on?!” 

You hit the back of your head hard with that fall and he noticed with the pained expression on your face. That embarrassment was switched to worry. Levi helps you up and after you explain everything to him, he assists you to the kitchen to find some ice to numb the pain. 

“I-i um… I'll make sure that I play this game somewhere safe, s-so you won’t have to worry about me!” Levi promises next time, already planning on searching any equipment or set up he needs to make his gaming experience much safer. He doesn’t want to burden you more than he already has.

He’s clumsy with the ice pack because he’s too nervous of hurting you more than he already did. What if he presses too hard? What if he’s doing it wrong? You’ll have to hold his hand to guide him on what to do or where to place it, and he’ll need all the self-control he needs to stop trembling from your touch.

Satan 

Even from the outside of the house, you could hear all the commotion and rapid footsteps. You thought you could leave them for at least one hour while you went out to grab the groceries, and apparently they already started fighting in your absence. 

It started when Satan bought a limited edition book signed by the author himself, with only 50 signed copies available. Mammon found the package first before Satan could and decided that maybe he could sell it, but he was caught before he could make any Grimm. In an attempt to get it back, Mammon accidentally tore a few pages. Now they’re both in demon forms running around the house. 

“I WILL TEAR YOUR LEGS OFF YOUR BODY WHEN I CATCH YOU” Satan snarled as he tried to capture the one that ruined his precious book. Unfortunately their speeds leagues apart and only Lucifer ever has the power of catching up to his no-good older brother. 

In a desperate attempt, Satan throws the book towards Mammon and hopes that maybe if he’s lucky enough it would hit him in the head and slow him down. But that wasn’t the case here. 

Mammon saw the incoming projectile and took a sharp turn to avoid it. The moment you opened the door to see what was going on, you weren’t really prepared for the flying book and next thing you knew, it hit you straight to the face. 

The force was enough to make you fall back, dropping all the groceries at hand. You expected to hit the floor, but you felt two hands hold you to stop you from falling. 

Satan saw the moment you got hit square on the face with the book he threw and ran to catch you before you could fall and hurt yourself further. You open your eyes only to see his eyes completely filled with worry. All his wrath was completely over washed with concern for you. 

“I-i’m so sorry MC! Come on, I'll get that treated quickly” He would carry you to the living room, groceries be damned, and cast a small healing spell to ease the pain and discomfort. 

Satan makes sure to be more aware of your presence. Just because his outbursts can get intense doesn't mean he'd want you to get involved in the crossfire. Never does he wish to be the cause of your pain, accident or not. It took you quite some time to reassure him since he didn’t mean that in the first place. 

Asmo

Asmo was excited to find that the shoes he wanted for so long had finally been released and he’s been dying to try them on. The shoes made him a few inches taller and he loves that since he was the smallest brother in the house. The heels were crafted perfectly when decorated with gems and glitter, it’s practically made for him! 

One would find him strutting down the halls with his heels or putting on all kinds of glamor and clothes to match. Asmo could’ve knocked your door down with all that giddiness when he entered your room to show off his new shoes.

He makes running in heels look so easy and you listen to him go on for a while on how the color matches his eyes. By the end of his speech, he grabs your hands and practically wants you to twirl him around like a princess in the spotlight of the ballroom. 

With the excitement in each step, Asmo was not careful enough and accidentally stepped on your foot. Normally it doesn’t hurt you but the sheer cheerful energy Asmo had brought about enough force to make it painful. And what’s worse… It was heels. 

You wince and take a step back, letting go of Asmo’s hand in the process. He looked at you with a pout until he saw you were in pain, clenching your foot “Love? Oh gosh– Did i?”

He immediately sits you down and checks how hurt you were. Since humans are so fragile and squishy, he worried if he broke a bone or even worse! But you assure him that you’re alright. 

“The reddening skin says otherwise! This is not good. We should go get that taken care of in a spa! We can get you those luxurious foot scrubs while I get a pedicure to match my new heels! Come on, I'll get your clothes ready!”

Whether or not you planned to go out today, Asmo is already rummaging through your closet to find the perfect outfit for you in the salon. You can’t exactly say no to a day off to relax, plus he won’t let you stay cooped up in your room like one of his older brothers. 

The spa really was rejuvenating and the scrub made your skin so smooth. You’re not sure if this was his way of apologizing or just an excuse to bring you here but it's a win either way right? 

When he brought up how you should also wear heels like his to match, you immediately decline with no room for negotiation. 

Beel  

Beel has brought home some rolled cigar cookies for you and Belphie to eat. They were a new flavor being sold in madam screams, Beel had already eaten several boxes and he’s made sure that he doesn't end up consuming all of the cookies he bought for you guys in one go. 

He knew that these sweets would go perfect with some devil’s hot chocolate so he wanted to brew some before he brought them up to the attic. 

He had two mugs at hand with the box of cookies in his arms. It’s taking all his concentration to not eat and drink all this food in his reach, especially when his stomach is already empty by the time he left the kitchen. He was so focused on trying to take his mind off his hunger that he failed to see you around the corner. 

By accident, he bumped into you and one of the drinks spilled on your arms. Thank god that Beel made sure that the temperature was safe enough for human consumption (since they could probably drink at hotter temperatures), though it still hurt you regardless. 

The cookies and drink was left forgotten at the nearest table he can place them as he tends to you. No blisters at least, but your skin started turning red from all that heat that Beel kept panicking as he took you to the sink to get it treated. 

“I-I just wanted to bring you some hot chocolate… sorry MC” he has that sad puppy look on his face that makes it hard for you to be angry, not that you were ever mad at him in the first place. Beel spent his time running your arm by cool water to treat it, and even asked Satan to take a look at your skin. 

As sweet as he was, if the burns on your skin were actually that bad then expect that he will never let you near any sort of hot drinks. He treats it as if they were poison to you. Your morning coffee? Now it has ice. Your hot chocolate? It’s iced chocolate. It took your brother’s intervention so he doesn’t ruin the soup for dinner for your sake. 

Belphie 

Belphie was by your side as you watched a local Devildom film in the living room. At first it was both of you watching together since the movie date was his idea, but he fell asleep for the first 20 minutes. To be fair, it was his longest record of keeping himself awake. 

There are times that he sleeps so well that he unknowingly shifts into his demon form. It’s just his powers responding to his own dreams, and he’s having a really nice one at this point since it has you and Beel in it, two of his favorite people of all the realms. 

You paused the movie to use the restroom for a while when that happened. While he was sleeping, his tail popped up and you didn’t know it until you tripped on it when you came back to the living room. 

It wasn’t the feeling of someone stepping over his tail that woke him up, but it was the sound of your pained groans that got the youngest born open both his eyes quickly as he shot up from the couch. 

If it were any of his brothers he would’ve been laughing, but he cares about you a lot. So seeing you in pain on the ground brought back some… ‘unpleasant memories’ from before. He goes to your side so check if you’re injured or hit your head too hard when you fell to the floor.

After the incident at the attic, Belphie tried his best to make sure he won't hurt you. He promised you that when you both forged a pact, and it took so much time to gain your trust again after all! Much like Beel, he is all over you in making sure you’re okay. Belphie wants to keep you safe, even from himself. 

“I don’t want to watch the movie anymore… Can we just cuddle instead?” He says with a cute pout on his lips. The twins really got the same puppy eyes, making it really hard for you to say no to his naps. This time, Belphie lets your head rest on his beloved soft cow pillow to compensate for what happened. 

Takes notes from Satan on how to keep his tail still, since the older demon has more control over it by keeping it wrapped around his leg. Belphie never usually worries about shifting into his demon form, but he just wants to make sure this time!

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 1 - dirty talk

gaz x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, dirty talk, piv sex, doggy-style, fingering, nipple-play, a wee bit of scratching by reader, clothed sex.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

It started simple enough. 

“Like that, don’t you?” he whispers, tucked into the crook of your neck one night as he rolls his hips smooth and precise, dick nailing exactly the spot you need. It sends you wailing back against the sheets. You lay there, taking it, so close to your peak, that you’re unable even to grab up at your boyfriend’s shoulders. Babbling, begging yes yes kyle yes as you clench around him, falling over that blissfully high peak. 

“So pretty like this,” he tells you the next night as he takes you from behind. You’ve already fallen forward, unable to withstand the power of his thrusts. You moan into the sheets, brain gone. You’re rocking back and forth with the bed as you take everything the solid unit of a man behind you can give. His hands glide down your sweat-slicked back until he’s draped over you while still pistoning his cock in and out of your sore, slicked hole. His cock thuds into you at the new, shallower angle as he says to himself, “Good little pussy. Made for me,” right in your ear. 

“Get this wet just thinkin’ of me?” he says the next day, smooth as silk, hands dipped down the front of your leggings the moment he walked in the door. You relax back into him with a whine as he works swiftly, one hand pulling your panties to the side, the other diving straight to your leaking core. He lets out a huff of that nicotine laced breath that drives you wild, pumping his fingers in and out while you twine around him. Your leg spreads to give him all the room he needs, hooking your foot around his calf. You reach your arm back, blindly grasping until you feel your fingers trail up the side of his neck. His jaw clenches under your hand as you pull his face forward and down, aching, begging for a kiss. He twirls his thumb around your clit as your lips press the barest of kisses to his, forcing a whimpering moan followed by a please kyle please.

You don’t mind it. Hell, how could you? You love your boyfriend and the sex is amazing regardless. I just feels like I came out of left-field. Kyle having been more than content with the usual grunts and groans, maybe a quick, cut off instruction if needed. That’s what you’d grown used to. Nothing more than what was needed. He communicated, just wasn’t vocal. 

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you.

“So,” you asked one dark, quiet night, laying in his lap while the end of some boring war movie he had picked out played out in front of you, “mind if I ask why you’ve gotten so-”

He cuts you off with one warm hand, snaking suddenly up to grasp your cold breast under your thin shirt. You gasp as he massages his large fingers in the soft flesh. It only takes a brush of the pad of his thumb, skin worn rough from work, over your nipple to have you writhing. His other hand holds your hips to his, touch gentle by comparison.

“Wha’s that, love?” he has the audacity to huff cooly in your ear while bucking ever so slowly against the plush of your ass as his erection becomes more and more evident.

“Kyle!” you cry, the crack of simulated gunfire from the TV burying your voice.

The hand on your hip is rucking down your shorts before you can say anything else. You do the rest of the work, kicking them down your legs while Kyle zeros in on his goal. Two thick fingers swirl around your clit while his hand on your chest pulls up your shirt as he reaches for your other breast. He leaves your first nipple, aching and red, exposed to the cool air as he twists the second between his forefinger and thumb. 

You arch back as much as you can while trapped in his embrace, pleading and crying as he plays with you. His fingers press and swirl on your clit, agonizingly slow but in just the right place. Your pussy throbs and pulses, making a sloppy wet mess over his hand as he draws you closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Please Kyle!” you cry out, begging for mercy as he tweaks your nipple especially hard. 

“Love seeing you like this,” he mumbles into your temple with a kiss, absolutely lost in playing your body like the shrieking, weeping instrument it is. The ending theme of the movie is playing. A slow, sad instrumental as the credits roll. If it wasn’t for the cock rocking against your thigh, you’d believe he wasn’t affected at all by what he was doing, solely focused on your pleasure.

Your hands are clawing at whatever they can reach. His arms. His hands. They never stop. You can dent his skin with your nails, scratch and leave bloody welts, but he only presses his head to yours, cooing and shushing you as you wail and writhe.  

“Got so wet when I started talking dirty,” he finally answers you, threading his fingers to either side of your clit to hold it tight, palming it in the curl of that strong hand of his. The motion makes you bite your lip until you taste blood. “Can feel it. Feel you clench ‘n squirm, just like now,” he breaths out, bringing the hand on your chest down to your pussy. 

He only gets two fingers in before he’s lost completely, moaning and babbling in your ear. “God, you’re so wet. Make me a fuckin’ lucky man, you know that? Lovely fuckin’ thing. Always ready for me. Wet n’ waitin’,” all while rutting against you in time to his fingers. 

Your clit throbs under his grip. You roll your hips in rhythm with his, chasing that ache, willing that dull throb to finally finally spill over. If he won’t do it for you, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

“Yeah?” he asks, noticing your actions, “That’s it, love. Get it. Get it. Cum f’ me. Cum- God, fuck!” He lets his forehead thump against your temple, whining as he brings the remainder of his brain power together on the task of holding your body to his as he bucks his clothed dick against your slick skin.  

“Make me nut in my good joggers,” he says with a giggle, tweaking your clit as he rolls you against him.

[boyfridged]

in which bruce time travels and does not hold baby jay. (853)

But the sudden weep tugs at Bruce’s heart so violently that he has to stop himself from burgling in through the window. He is close to doing it, even, the acute awareness that the infant is Jason– That this is his boy there, needy and lonely, overshadowing any logical thought.

Then there’s another sound, a low groan, and the room lightens up with the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Bruce takes a step back; perhaps to hide in the darkness of the corner, or maybe out of sheer surprise, confronted with a forgotten presence. 

Willis Todd’s face is uncanny in its familiarity– In its similarity to that of his– In his similarity to adult Jason’s. The only difference must be the serene darkness of his eyes, otherwise every feature so eerily mirroring that of Bruce’s son. There’s the sharp profile and yet the unexpected softness of the cheekbones, the fine arch of eyebrows, the smooth curl of hair. There’s that weariness that looks shocking when displayed on a face that young; because he is young, decades stretching between him and Bruce, dually literal.

Willis rubs his face and stumbles out of the bed, murmuring something that is incomprehensible because of the idiosyncrasy of his speech, or maybe in a language different altogether. He moves to the crib in a quick motion, stomping over a plushy and a pile of clothes abandoned on the floor, something he can clearly do even with his eyes half open, and picks up the baby– Bruce ignores the odd feeling curdling in his stomach, these ugly knots, focusing on the baby, the baby with huge grey eyes and a little face reddened with distress, despite the mellowness of the cry.

“You need to grow yourself some stronger lungs, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis Todd whispers. “How will daddy hear you when you’re so quiet?” His voice is still rough with sleep, and familiar too, even though Bruce Wayne has never met this man before in his life.

As if replying to the complaint, the infant wails loudly. It’s a short, piercing cry that is almost immediately remedied with gentle rocking.

“Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. A great start to your opera career too.” Willis chuckles and pokes the tiny button nose.  Another whimper and he’s walking out of the bedroom, urging Bruce to move to the other side of the balcony, to peek into the window of the living room. If it can be called that, since it seems to also fulfill the purpose of a kitchen, storage and laundry rooms all at once. There’s a rusty bike next to the door, leaning onto the textured wall, and three different colourful rugs on the wooden floor. The sofa is mostly neatly covered with a floral blanket, but there are scratches visible at the sides, and there is the perpetrator, an orange cat curled on top of it. It stirs awake and jumps to follow the man into the kitchenette area, fawning at his legs as he moves the cheese grater and a stack of the other dishes aside to find a bottle. 

It is a mess, but it is no worse than a mess Bruce would expect from any single dad. No dirt in the corners, just clutter and one too many empty cups on the counter. Willis starts moving them to the sink while the bottle is heating, the baby still safely tucked, but now held only with one arm. His mouth is moving, but Bruce cannot make out any words.

It is when the man moves back to the bedroom, where the window remains open, that he realises why his attempts at lip reading came to nothing. The constant, soothing chatter is Vietnamese. The monologue does not stop even though Jason seems pacified enough, latching on the milk with eyes half-open. 

“Enough?” Willis asks, switching to English, when the tiny fingers push the bottle away. “Mhm, not that hungry after all?” He sets it away and moves to the crib. But the moment Jason is settled on the soft blankets, he cries out fiercely. It does not take Willis even a split second to pick him up again, the sobbing stopping instantly. 

“So this is what it is about, huh,” he whispers, seemingly giving up on any other arrangement and simply collapsing on the armchair, the bed forsaken. “‘S a good note though. Just don’t forget your dad when you’re rich and famous,” he adds, before reverting to hushed Vietnamese. 

The foreign words heave uncomfortably at Bruce’s mind, reminding him that he should not be there. And as if in agreement, the comms spark to life, the static in his ears quickly replaced with quiet: “Batman, do you copy?” 

For a moment, he does not reply.

Inside, the infant sighs, unexpectedly loudly, eyes still intent on the father. 

“Tough life, huh, Jaybaby?” Willis says and mimics the sigh, overexaggerated. He smiles tiredly and rubs the round cheeks affectionately. And the baby laughs. The baby laughs and the sound is as loud and unrestrained as the cry before. It's unmistakable.

On the balcony, a cape flutters. 

[riddledwithrats]

In The Midnight Hour

Chapter Four: And It Feels Like Home

>chapters one, two, three

Summary: Reader is taken to Falcone's office and beaten within an inch of her life.

Words: 1,808 (kinda short but I wanted to give y’all at least a little bit! one more chapter left :))

Warnings: kidnapping, extreme violence, death threats, major character death, degradation, religious imagery, hurt/comfort (18+)

“I thought you made a deal, boss?”

Voices ring in your ears and blood drips out of your nose and mouth. There’s no light and you can’t tell if it’s because the room is dark or if your eyes are shut.

“I only made that deal to placate Oz, he’s a fuckin’ schmuck if he thinks I’m just gonna let her go.”

You groan and try to roll over but your arm shoots out in pain, and a squeal of agony wretches its way through your throat. You’re too delirious to recognize the voices, your ears sound all fuzzy and you can’t see anything.

Tears begin to roll down your face as you gently prod at your eyes, they’re almost fully swollen shut. Someone has been wailing on you for a very long time it seems.

“Oh, look. The bitch is awake!” A rough voice says near you, it only gets closer. You can feel the wretched breath on your neck, it reeks of whiskey and tequila. A delicate touch follows the trail of your tears, slowly beginning to scratch the tip of their nail into your skin.

You cry out in pain, your eyes beginning to open just slightly. A sliver of light blinds you, and Falcone's face comes into view. His face is deep red, he’s seething as he stares daggers into you.

“How fucking could you?” You begin to shake and whimper as he grabs you roughly by the shoulders. His grip is excruciating, you can feel bruises forming already. “You let him fucking slobber all over you like a dog, you WHORE. DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?”

You can’t think, all you can do is scream, cry, and whimper. He begins to laugh at you.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, angel.” He leans back a little, sitting on his knees beside your trembling form. “He’s fucking incompetent, he’s an idiot for Christ's sake! What does he got that I don’t, baby?”

Falcone grabs you by the throat and makes you look him in the eyes. He’s waiting for an answer, squeezing your windpipe periodically.

“I said, what does he got that I DON’T?” Falcone shouts and it makes your ears ring. Your mouth is dry and you can barely form words in your head but you mutter an answer out anyways.

“A heart.” Your throat begins to feel like it’s closing.

He doesn’t seem to enjoy this answer.

He grabs you by the sides of your head and begins slamming your head down onto the floor. You can’t stop screaming. Everything begins to go by in slow motion.

The air flows around you like nothing is happening, the sun shines into the office. It bounces orange and yellow light all around you, it looks so beautiful.

Stars begin to form in your sight, you can’t hear anything and you can barely focus your eyes but Falcone hasn’t let up. You feel so helpless. His hands make their way back to your throat, he pushes his thumbs into the front of your esophagus, and it burns. Your lungs feel like they’ve callapsed, your vision is even blurrier than before and you’re sure you’ve lost more than a few brain cells at this point. All you can see is the rage in his eyes.

The elevator door dings.

“CARMINE.”

Oz steps in, he’s fuming. There’s a gun in his hand. Falcone only stops once he hears Oz’s booming voice and his brace clinking against the floor. He looks up at him in awe.

Oz looks ethereal. The sun shines down on him like a halo.

A vague idea enters your head. Your gaze flickers to Falcone; Adam. To the gun; The Apple.

And finally, to Oz. A great, big, powerful Serpent.

A loud bang echoes through the office. A heavy weight falls onto your chest, and slickness splatters onto your face. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re finally free.

Your eyes fall shut and you can’t open them anymore.

Waking up in a hospital is jarring, specifically because you hadn’t expected to wake up at all. But the sterile white walls, the linen covers, and the fluorescent lights weren’t entirely unwelcome.

There’s a brace on your arm and on one of your knees, but you don’t feel any pain. You look at your injuries in confusion, why didn’t they hurt?

“They’ve got you on a lot of painkillers, sweetheart.” The rumbling voice cracks as it speaks. You look over to your left, Oz is sitting in a chair that looks much too small for him. There’s a pillow and a blanket next to him, as well as a cup of water and some magazines. He looks tired like he hasn’t taken his eyes off you in days. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up, doll.”

Oz begins to choke up, he looks ecstatic that you’re awake but he just can’t stop crying. You don’t remember much of what happened. All you can remember is the pain… and the sun.

You don’t see the sun now though, it looks to be pitch black outside, like it’s the middle of the night. Oz reaches a hand out towards yours, he holds your hand gently.

“I-I’ll call the nurse, sweetheart.” He stands up and presses a button next to your bed.

“Did you kill him, Oz?” You ask as he freezes in place, hand still hovering to your side. He looks at you, visibly stiff like he wasn’t prepared for the question but simultaneously like he knew you were going to ask it from the moment you woke up.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

He sits back down and waits for your reply, watching every tiny twitch of your face to gauge your reaction.

“Good.” You whisper out, eyes closed and leaning back into the barely-comforting cushion of the hospital bed. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you feel light and free like every chain that had been holding you down finally snapped.

He snorts out a small laugh, but when you sneak a look at him he looks incredibly solemn. You’re sure there’s a lot of stuff that has unraveled, or been brought up, because of his killing Falcone. The foundation of his business has become shaky and fragile, plenty of people are going to try and make a feeble attempt at the newly opened job position.

But none of them will be nearly as fast as Oz.

“Oz?” You call out to him softly, watching as his dejected eyes raise to meet yours. A fire burns in the pit of your stomach, a sense of pride and determination flares within your chest. You take a deep breath and look him, deathly serious, in the eye. “This city is yours now. No one can take it from you.”

Oz sits up at attention, he looks at you bewildered. He secretly shudders at the realization that you definitely just read his mind. He tries to gain his composure, sending a cheeky, almost shy, smile your way as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I wish it was that easy, sweetheart.” He chuckles dryly, but stops abruptly at the resolute look in your eyes. You’re not trying to reassure him… You’re stating a fact. One that seems to be very near and dear to your heart. Oz sighs, looking at you softly.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

A few seconds go by of you both staring deep into each others eyes, before Oz comes back to reality. Just as he opens his mouth to say something else, the door handle jiggles slowly before a young women enters.

She’s dressed head to toe in purple scrubs and it makes you squint a little at the vibrant color. She says something in greeting but you don’t hear much of it, tuning out very fast as she does a routine check of your health. Asking you basic questions.

Apparently, you had been unconscious for around three days but they had kept a vigilant eye on you, and reassured Oz that you would be awake in no time. Oz had also kept a vigilant eye on you, the nurse says this after he leaves the room to fetch you something to eat.

“What?” You ask quietly, looking at her quizzically. You’re sure there’s much more important things he could’ve been doing, but the blanket, paper cup of water, and discarded coat where Oz was sitting tells a different story.

“Yeah, he barely left your side. Only really left to go the bathroom and begrudgingly get food at the insistence of myself.” She giggles a little, not noticing the expression on your face.

“Oh.”

She leaves a little while after that, only really making small chit chat after she’s assessed that you’re in fairly good shape considering the circumstances.

Of course he would stay, you think. It would be out of character for him to just leave you, a crumpled heap of a person on the floor. Although he had wanted to kill Carmine for a very long time, there was very little chance he would ever do it if Falcone hadn’t tried what he had.

The thought of Oz wanting to save you makes you blush, the heat in your face doesn’t seem to go away even as Oz enters the room with some food for you and himself.

He smiles at you, not a smirk but a real, true smile. He brandishes the plain hospital food for you to see, and your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“The nurse said you could be discharged from the hospital today, doll.” He says as he sits down in the chair beside your bed. He hands you something to eat, before relaxing into the chair. “And uh, well… I was wondering if you’d come stay with me for a while, sugar.”

That takes you back a little.

“What? Why, Oz?” You ask in confusion.

“Well, I don’t mean this in a rude way, doll, but I feel like every time I take my eyes off you, you get the shit beaten out of you.” Oz chuckles dryly, but he looks nervous. “I just, I worry about you, y’know? Don’t want you to get hurt no more, especially if it’s because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Oz…”

He doesn’t look convinced, but before he can argue the nurse comes back in. She looks shy and apologetic for interrupting, but she steps further into the room anyways.

“Your paperwork is all finished, you’re free to leave.” She says with a gentle smile, and as Oz and yourself nod she walks back out swiftly.

Oz looks at you, he seems to be thinking very deeply before he says:

“C’mon, doll, let’s get going.” He stands up and helps you get ready to leave.

[uhzuku]

— 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐍! ; 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: not all early arrivals are a good thing. 

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: genshin impact | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tighnari/gn!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 1.80k. 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, tighnari in heat, no he/she pronouns for reader but they have a dick, anal creampie, drooling, heat cycles, breeding kink, begging, crying, dacryphilia, pillow humping, bed humping, anal fingering, tail pulling, dacryphilia. 

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

tanned fingers dig into soft bed sheets as tighnari squirms against them. his heat had come early this year, and y/n was away on business — they weren’t even in sumeru anymore, not when what they needed to do involved being on inazuma’s watatsumi island. as a result, he was left alone to suffer, his skin hot and sweaty and his cock hard and aching against his taut stomach. 

“y-y/nnn!” he moans weakly, calling for his absent lover while rolling over to rut against the bed. tears spring up in his eyes along his waterline, threatening to fall as he dryly sobs when he gets no relief from his movements, even with the friction caused by humping the mattress. “y/n, please!”

silence broken only by the sounds of the forest is his only response, and he lets out another short sob as his abdomen tightens up painfully, demanding he be filled in the way his body so desperately craved. he buries his face in the pillows, biting at the fabric while the tears begin to fall, his breathing coming out in heavy gasps. his ass, presented perfectly as he pushed it high in the air with his back arched, sways slightly in place as his thighs tremble. scratching sounds fill the hut as he claws at the sheets, his mouth falling open to release the fabric of his pillow so more whines and cries can come out. he grabs y/n’s pillow and sticks it between his legs, humping it desperately and only letting out a wail when it does nothing to ease the heat and pain in his belly. 

his ears flick back as the door to his hut opens behind him, and his eyes widen in a panic. he was in heat, no one was supposed to know about what happens during this time — the other rangers knew ( because how couldn’t they? ), but no one had seen! no one but y/n was allowed to look down over him and see him in this way. “n-no-!” he gasps, fearful that one of his subordinates would find him this way, but when he turns he discovers nothing but absolute mercy. 

y/n stood in the doorway, their travel bag slung over their shoulder; like tighnari’s heat, they’d come back to him early. 

“y-y/n!” he sobs, twisting around so he can crawl on his hands and knees to them when they toss their bag to the side and take quick strides towards the foot of the bed. “m-missed you, ‘nd i need it — need you!” his voice is shrill and reflects his desperation, and he whines as they gently take one of his ears in one of their hands and rubs it softly. tears roll down his cheeks as he turns his head into their touch, and he sniffles. “please f-fuck me…”

“aw, puppy — did your heat come early?” y/n asks softly, and tighnari nods tearfully. y/n frowns down at him, their brows furrowed; they take off their coat, casting it to the floor without a second thought, and kick off their shoes, stripping themselves of the rest of their clothes as well before climbing on the bed to be with him. 

tighnari throws himself on top of them, grabbing whatever bare flesh he can and pressing his mouth against theirs in a near forceful kiss, whining into y/n’s lips while grinding himself against their thigh. one of his hands bumps against the brass buckle of their belt as they whip it off for him, and his hand continues scrambling around their crotch until it finally comes to a stop on their hardened cock, his fingers curling into a fist around it before jerking it a couple times. his love moans into his mouth, and he whimpers into theirs as they pull him up to sit in their lap with his legs on either side of their hips. 

a sudden shriek falls from his mouth when theirs latches onto one of his already sensitive nipples, sucking hard; his mouth falls open farther in a cry, his thighs trembling, and y/n sticks two of their fingers in his mouth without warning. 

“suck,” they order, their voice a low drawl that sends a shiver up his spine, and he immediately closes his mouth and curls his tongue around the digits, sucking them and coating them in saliva. as he suckles at them, his eyes roll back a little, the very weight of their fingers in his mouth already giving him some relief. 

he whines when they pull them from his hot mouth, a thick strand of saliva connecting them as he chases them with his mouth before they disappear from his sight, bow completely out of reach. he gasps suddenly when he feels y/n’s fingers, wet from when they’d had them in his mouth, press into his empty hole both at once, crooking up to toy with his swollen prostate. 

and then fresh tears begin to fall. 

he didn’t mean to cry, but he just couldn’t help it - the combined feelings of his lover’s  fingers curling up over his prostate while buried all the way to the knuckle in his tight ass, as well as the way they were fisting his cock with an almost cruel grip all while sucking and biting his nipples had him howling, unintended tears springing from his eyes as he cried out for them. “y-y/n! oh please, y/n, fuck me!” 

“that’s it baby, cry for me!” y/n purrs, their other hand holding his hips and pushing then down so he grinds their cocks against one another hard. “come on, ‘nari, give it all to me.” the tears rolled down his cheeks in a constant stream, tighnari absolutely wailing now. 

“i-in — put it in!” he begs, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, and y/n helps him shakily stand on his knees so they can press their cockhead against his twitching hole. 

“go slow-“ they warn, but tighnari ignores them, instead slamming down to take them in all at once. his eyes bug out, fresh tears bursting from them, and he lets out a shrill scream. y/n is worried at first, and goes to check on their boyfriend, but tighnari just lifts his hips before dropping back down, repeating the action and turning himself into a blubbering mess. 

“oh g-god — oh yes — oh fuck-!” he sobs, his insides confirming to the shape of y/n’s cock in the best way. his hips desperately rutted up into their front as his ass ground down, and he cried from how good it felt. while he does so, y/n starts actively fucking their boyfriend, making him howl with pleasure and his short claws digging so deeply into their back that blood popped up in pinpricks whenever he moved his hands. “y/n, y/n, y/n — please, ‘ve been a g-good boy, i've been so goo-ood-!”

after a long stretch of them fucking him like this, he absolutely melts into their touch as they slowed their brutal thrusts to a slow roll of their hips in order to lick his tears away.  “such a good boy...” y/n murmurs, nuzzling their nose against his cheek. 

loud, high pitched chirps and whines punctuate his moans and sobs, his eyes both crossed and rolled back as y/n bounces him on their thick cock. it’s stretching him out, filling him in all the best ways, and the burn that came with minimal lube has him clenching around the root of y/n’s cock. y/n themself groans lowly, squeezing their eyes closed and letting their head fall back onto the bunch of pillows behind them as tighnari gets more and more desperate. 

“oh archons — oh fuck, ‘m cummin’ ‘m gonna cum!” he pants, eyes wide and wild as his own cum spurts all over his chest; not a full orgasm, no, but he’d get there. “cum in me, fill me up! i want all of your cum in my ass, want you to breed me!” he whines, and y/n lifts their head to look at him again. their eyes are dark, looking almost pitch black as their pupils have swallowed their irises. 

taking him by the hips, y/n rolls them over, pulling out after getting tighnari on his back. the fox hybrid lets out a small but loud cry of discomfort from the loss and sudden emptiness, but y/n is rolling him over in an instant, his cock pinned between the mattress and his taut tummy. when they grab him by the base of his tail and lift him with it so his ass is presented to them, he realizes where they’re going with all the movement, and so he eagerly welcomes the sudden fullness that comes with y/n slamming their cock all the way inside all at once. 

“oh my gods!” he screams, and y/n throws their head back again as they settle back onto their former brutal pace, their balls slapping against his loud enough for an echoing smacking to fill the hut alongside that of their hips hitting his ass. “wan’ it, wan’ it — wan’ your puppies, wan’ all your babies, wan’ a wh-whole litter! please, master, breed me!”

with nothing short of a roar y/n slams themself into him one last time as thick globs of cum shoot from the tip of their cock and start filling his insides. as the sudden, telling warmth fills his guts he lets out a long screech that tapers off into a wailed moan, his own cum splattering against the sheets beneath him as he cums again, this time having an entire orgasm. his entire body spasms against y/n’s, his fingers digging into the sheets and his claws ripping them, as he’s both filled with cum and letting it out. 

a shaky, ragged breath leaves his mouth and he all but collapses against the bed, held up only by y/n’s callused hands. they gently ease him down, carefully pulling out and watching the seemingly endless river of cum that leaves his swollen, abused hole before getting the cup of water he’d put on a nearby table. 

they hold the cup to his lips, cradling his head carefully. “drink, my love,” they murmur, and tighnari does as told, his exhaustion allowing him to do nothing but cooperate. once he’s drank his fill, y/n finishes the rest and refills the glass, putting it back where they’d gotten it before climbing back into bed with him and curling up around him at his back. he’s dozing now, resting between this wave that’s ended and the future one that would be coming in around an hour, and y/n can’t help but smile down at him as he grabs their arm and clings to it, laying his head on it like a pillow. 

they were more than glad they cut their trip short; there was no place they’d rather be. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

ᴛᴡ: short, cute, no restraints no nothing @skznccmlee YES!

ᴀ/ɴ: DRABBBLEEEE

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

“you gotta keep quiet, hyung~” seungmin was so cruel. so mean. so evil. at least in hyunjin’s opinion.

hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut, tears gathering at his lashline as he tugged at his arms to no avail. his lips quivered desperately, and he knew he was tickles away from breaking.

seung had him on his lap, holding hyunjin’s arms above his head and was currently squeezing his side in random motions, causing hyune to thrash and whimper as he almost squealed.

they were currently in a storage closet backstage, and their stylist was currently right outside the room, working on changbin’s makeup as the two chatted. hyunjin certainly did not want them to hear his completely undignified cackling.

“how long until my jinnie breaks, hm?~” seungmin smiled as hyunjin whimpered, the sensations of seungmin’s lips blowing air into his ear making him bite his lip in desperation.

“p-plehehehease…mihihinniee...” hyunjin gasped when a finger moved down to his belly, scratching around his belly button with a gentleness that had hyunjin’s cheeks soaked with tears immediately, his head falling back into seungmin’s chest as he giggled quietly, only for the puppy to hear.

“shhhh…you don’t want them to hear, do you?” seungmin tsked, eyes fond as hyunjin wailed silently, biting his lower lip and burying his head into seung’s neck when the sensations became too overwhelming.

seungmin could feel him mouthing pleas into his neck, and despite the ticklish sensation, minnie decided to cut the poor boy some slack. after all, this was just a game, and seungmin didn’t wanna embarrass hyune too badly.

“fine, fine, you’re okay, don’t cry.” seungmin cooed, finally stopping the tickling and wiping the tears off of hyunjin’s face.

it was only then they heard the door open.

“you guys done giggling in here?”

I SWEAR ILL CATCH UP YALL

[lostinforestbound]

This is an exploration of Rolan, Cal, and Lia 's past together and how they met. I have read plenty of headcannons and fics that have already explored this topic (the ones I've read are so creative!) and I wanted to do my own little spin on it!

Cal & Lia & Rolan

Unlovable

An unwanted, despised child wanders Elturel one of the worst storms the city has ever seen, looking for scraps to survive the night.

Word Count: 3.1k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Child Abuse (Only shown in the beginning), Trauma Responses, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending

A pitiful tiefling child is dragged by his hair, wailing as a woman kicks the front doors of the orphanage open. She tosses the young boy out into the middle of the storm, and he falls into a large, muddy puddle in the streets of Elturel. The rain hits his back harshly as he struggles to get up on his hands and knees.

“Don’t you ever come back to this place.” He hears the woman spit, and he tearfully looks up at her with golden eyes from his place at the bottom of the stairs. “This is no place for you, devil spawn. When you came to us originally, I bit my tongue in the name of our God; I thought we could shape you into something instead of what you are. Now you bite the hand that feeds you. A conniving, thieving, spoiled brat is what you are!”

She reaches for the handles on the doors, hatred in her eyes as she stares him down. “Leave, we will be more at peace without you to burden us.”

He weeps as the doors slam, wanting to plead with her; he didn’t steal anything, he never touched anything he wasn’t supposed to, and he was framed by an older child that resided further down the hall, but his voice has never worked ever since he was left here. The caretakers tried everything to make him speak; prayers, beatings, and starvation were all they resorted to, but none of those worked. It only made him silent. Even with how cruelly he was treated, he crawls up the stairs, trying not to slip on the wet stone, and frantically knocks on the doors.

His cries are left unheard or willfully ignored.

Body shaking violently with his sobs, the cold sinks deep in his bones as the rain mixes with the tears running down his face. He’s resorted to scratching at the wooden doors with his nails, but they’ve been blunted by the worshipers here. Cut down until they bled so they looked more humanoid.

Less devilish.

Please let him stay.

He yells out another cry when a loud clap of thunder hits, covering his sensitive ears from the sound. It hurts so much, the little ice needles called raindrops piercing his skin repeatedly without mercy.

To the happiness of those inside the orphanage and temple, he finally runs away.

No one would give him a second glance, and he never felt so isolated.

Pathetic.

Unwanted.

Abandoned.

His legs shake with every step after he stops running, whether from the cold or the terror that sunk into his bones. He’s directionless, not recognizing the street he's on and unsure how long he ran for. What did he do wrong? Should he have fought the caretakers less? Should he have gotten along with the other children more? Should he have been better behaved?

Is there something wrong with him?

As more lightning strikes, he picks up his pace again. A couple of small houses still have candle lights burning in their interiors, but he’s too fearful to go knocking. Who would want an orphan in their home? A tiefling orphan, no less? And on top of that, one that’s too scared to talk? Would they throw him out again?

He feels his stomach is being clawed at, hunger overcoming his senses. They were already punishing him for insolence by not feeding him, but thinking he stole something from the altar was the final straw in the haystack. He did not think caretakers could look at him so disgustingly.

Waterlogged by the rain, he finds a small house with their candles still lit, trailing over to the trash they left. It’s by the front door, the worst place for him to hide, but if he doesn't eat something soon he might collapse here.

He sneakily opens the wicker basket and looks inside, trying to find scraps. A loose crust of bread, old meat, bad fruit, anything he could find sustenance in. Anything that can tie him over for the night.

But there is nothing. Only broken glass from what looks to be a shattered plate, stray strings of yarn, and old needles that have long rusted.

His eyes start stinging again, knowing that luck will never be on his side. It’s the only trash he sees out here in this street, everywhere else is now too dense to peek through. He doesn’t even hear the door open, he only feels the waft of warmth from the inside-

The door is open.

He trembles again, not just from the cold, but dread. He can’t will himself to run away. Maybe he’ll be shown some mercy if he gets on his knees to beg, wordlessly hoping the punishment wouldn't hurt him too badly.

“Hello?” A feminine voice calls out cautiously, opening the door fully as the light hits his skin.

He quickly looks up at the figure, petrified.

She’s beautiful. The light gives him a better view of her orange skin and darker orange eyes. She’s wearing a white night dress, loose fitting with frills at the end of the sleeves. Her short black hair is a mess as if she got out of bed rapidly.

A Tiefling, most importantly.

He stares at her in a childlike wonder, surprised by the warmth he feels just by seeing her soft, sleepy eyes.

“Oh my goodness, you poor thing. Come in, now.” She states, gently but urgently pulling him inside.

Tugging him along to the interior of the small home, the tiefling woman sits him down in an old chair and puts a heavy blanket over his shoulders. “Sit tight- Cal, Lia, what have I said about staring?”

“It’s very rude…”

“Very good Cal.” She says softly, mirth and honey in her voice.

He didn’t even notice that there were other people around. They sounded young, like some of the other kids in the home. Their voice is sweet, the one that spoke. Innocent.

Quiet steps quickly approaching, she comes back with a towel, kneeling in front of him and carefully wiping his face. He leans into the towel's softness, enjoying the texture and lightly starting to purr. “Gods above, what happened to you sweetheart?” She asks as she takes one of his hands, looking down at his blunted nails in horror.

Opening his mouth, he tries to speak, but nothing comes out. What would he even say? His teeth chatter violently, threatening to crack the incisors that adorn his mouth.

“You’re freezing. Cal, Lia, please find some of the old clothes in the closet. He’s soaked to the bone and we need to get him dry.”

He hears the tinier tieflings run off somewhere, the woman carefully pulling him up and leading him into a bedroom. It’s small but comfortable. The orphanage was cramped and he had to share a bunk bed. He always took the top one, since it would be easier to hide himself when he was higher up. When he was out of sight, he was out of mind.

The other children arrive with a clothing pile, and while he can’t look them in the eye, he sees the amount of clothes they bring as they threaten to fall onto the floor.

That makes the woman giggle, a sweet sound that relaxes him even while he shivers. “Thank you. Now, sweetheart-“ She starts, gently tilting the boy’s chin to face her. “Do you have a name?”

He glances at her, dumbfounded. Yes, he does have a name, but it feels as though his throat is closing.

She gives him a sad smile, moving her hand away. “How about you change into some dry clothes? Come out whenever you’re ready.”

Getting up, she leads the other two children back out the door with hands on their backs.

”Mom, why won’t he talk?” The taller of the little ones question.

“Hush, Lia.” She whispers, closing the door behind her after they leave.

Silently looking around the room, he spots a portrait hanging high on the opposite end of the bed, easy to see even while laying down. It’s the woman, but she looks much younger, and there’s a man next to her. Red of skin with similar black horns, but they were cuffed in some kind of jewelry. Ceremonial, perhaps? They seem so sweet, holding each other’s hands like it was their whole world.

They’re in love. He hasn't seen the man around, though.

He snaps out of his trance, starting to peel off his wet clothes. The shirt snags on his horns, and it rips the side open while trying to yank it off.

Damn it all, the only shirt that he owned is now ruined. How could he fix this? The caretakers never taught him how to sew like the other children. They didn't let him participate at all, usually. It was too delicate, they said; his claws would tear the cloth and he would ruin it, like how he ruins everything else.

He ignores the tears stinging the corners of his eyes, focusing on putting on the new clothes. They’re big on him, clearly meant for an adult, but it’s dry. Kicking off his shoes mostly in frustration, he now looks at the door that leads back out.

Does he leave now? Is he allowed to?

Feet tiptoeing to the door, a shaky hand reaches out for the handle and opens it. He winces when the hinges creak so loudly, and he starts to shake again. Should he hide under the bed? Will they be angry about the noise?

No one seems to come after a few minutes, but he thinks that might be worse. Maybe they’re waiting for him to show his pathetic face.

But he smells something wonderful coming from what he thinks is the kitchen.

And gods, he’s so hungry.

He makes himself walk over to the area, the warmth of the room and the smell of chicken overwhelming his senses. The other children are sitting at the small table, waiting patiently with empty bowls as the woman, their mother, stirs her pot.

Her ear twitches, and she looks over with another soft smile. “Ah, there you are. Please sit, I’ll get you a bowl once this is ready.”

Wordlessly, he trails over to sit down on one of the available chairs, wrapping his own tail around himself. He doesn’t want it to get stepped on like it did in the orphanage.

”So, why were you out in the rain??” The girl asks suddenly, startling him. “It’s cold! And I heard that the storm was getting very dangerous.”

She looks like the man in the portrait, he notices. Red skin, longer black horns. She is staring at him expectantly, but he’s very distracted by the decor of the house. It’s colorful compared to the orphanage, with pots of flowers settled on tables including the one they’re sitting at. There are loose pieces of fabric, with a wayward needle and thread fastened in between so it wouldn’t disappear.

”Hello???” She calls to him.

”Lia.” The woman warns, turning her head and giving the child a stern look.

”But mom-“

”If he doesn’t want to speak, we will not force him. Leave him be.”

Lia pouts, puffing her cheeks slightly but doesn’t speak to him again.

He’s never been defended like that, before.

The fire stops suddenly, and their mother brings out a larger spoon. “Come here Cal, you first.”

Cal excitedly hops out of his chair with his bowl, tail swishing behind him rapidly as he trots over. Lia does the same after him, happily taking their bowls back to the table once they’re filled up. They take no time at all to start eating, even with how hot the soup is.

The woman sets a bigger bowl in front of him, filled with the same thing. “Eat as much as you’d like. There’s plenty.”

He looks at the contents, seeing the steam rise up and disappear in the air. It’s hot against his face, and he sees all the ingredients through the thick broth. Chicken, peppers, onions, and probably some spices too.

He shouldn’t be allowed to eat, he’s done nothing to help in the kitchen.

The other two finish way before he ever could, but he didn’t even touch the food. Thankfully, they don’t comment and run off to go play in another room.

He doesn’t hear their mother approach, so he jolts when he sees her kneeling beside his chair. “Are you alright, sweet pea?”

Fear washes over him fairly quickly, thinking she’s angry. He can’t get his tongue to work, even now. He wants to apologize for being rude, for not eating, for daring to enter this home, for everything.

For existing.

She gently cups his face, a look of concern as she searches for something in his expression. “Honey, you’re not in trouble. Not at all. I want to make sure you’re okay; please, eat.”

No one has ever been this kind before. No one has ever looked at him so lovingly.

Mom.

He starts to weep, ears twitching down and tail falling limp as his vision goes blurry. He can’t see her expression anymore through the tears he’s been keeping in ever since dinner started. That’s when she gathers him up into her arms, holding him as he gets on the floor with her.

She coos at him and lets him cry in her arms, holding him closer to her chest. “Shh, cry all you need. You’re okay.”

His sobbing grows louder and more desperate, as if he was grief-stricken. He cries and cries, but that never deters her one bit. She gently rocks with him, hand scratching at his scalp as she whispers comforting words.

When he finally calms, she takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face clean from the tears and snot. “Do you think you can eat, honey?”

He weakly nods, sniffling.

She easily lifts him up back onto the chair, pushing the bowl closer to him, and he finally takes a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He forgot how starved he was and ate up eagerly. It takes another two bowls before he’s satisfied.

He gets led back to the bedroom he was originally in, and she has him sit on the bed. “Get some sleep, okay? Don’t worry about anything, I want you to rest.”

He carefully lays down on the bed, doing what he’s told. The mattress is large and surprisingly soft, so he easily gets under the blankets. He wished the blanket was heavier, but he knows not to ask for anything.

The woman smooths his hair back with a smile. “If you ever need anything, I’m here. Feel free to come get me or call out when you want to talk, okay?”

He watches her leave the room afterward, exhaustion setting deep into his bones. Eyes growing heavy, he finally decides he wants to rest.

Hot. He’s burning. His skin is overly sensitive, and the drag of fabric along his skin is borderline painful. He tries to wake up, but can’t force his eyes open.

A muffled voice reaches his ears before he can panic. “You have a fever, dear. I will take care of you. And sweethearts, stay away from him. I don’t want you getting sick.”

”Yes, Mama.”

He’s in and out of consciousness constantly; sometimes hearing muffled voices, sometimes falling into a dreamless, uncomfortable sleep.

Sometimes he cries when woken up, part of him hoping he never wakes at all. But she wants him to drink water, so he will obediently. Maybe then, she’ll let him stay here. He’ll be good.

He promises to be good.

Please let him stay.

When he feels himself start to get better, he finds himself gathered in her arms as she gently hums a tune for him. He chastises himself internally when he feels the sting of tears in his eyes; is he so pathetic that he would cry over being comforted? Being loved so dearly?

“Darling, I can’t let you go back out into the storm. It’s too dangerous. Stay here.” She murmurs, thumbing his bony shoulder. “I’ll keep you well fed. I have more than enough to feed another mouth.”

He nods a little too frantically, hand crumpling the sleeve of her dress.

“Good. Let me go get something for you, okay?”

He reluctantly lets her go and patiently waits as she walks away. The rain hasn’t let up at all, still beating on the windows harshly as the cold tries to seep into the room.

The floorboards creak with her return, holding a blue shirt and brown trousers. “I made you some clothes. I noticed you only had one pair with you, so I made you another.”

She puts it in his hands as he looks it over, and he runs his fingers over the material.

It’s soft. Softer than anything he was ever given.

”Try it on whenever you’d like. Would you like some lunch? I’m making some steak and eggs.”

He nods a little, and she smiles as she leads him to the kitchen once again. Cal and Lia are already there, and super excited about his presence.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better! Did you like the blanket? It was one of my favorites when I was small!” Lia exclaims happily.

She doesn’t seem deterred at all by his lack of response.

“It’s the best one!”

“I like that one too. Is it still soft?” Cal asks, looking up at him. When he nods, Cal smiles more, and he idly notices the small boy is missing a missing tooth.

”Settle down children, the steaks are almost ready. Ah, how do you like your eggs darling?”

He stares at her with a confused look, and she gives a small frown as she tries to think of an example that he would understand.

“Me and Cal like ours scrambled! Mom, maybe he’ll like scrambled??”

“That’s the safe option, I suppose,” She giggles, going to a different pan where the eggs are being cooked. “I enjoy sunny side up. It's where you only cook the underside and leave the yolk on top untouched.”

He remembers a visual he saw in a picture book. Is that sunny side up?

”Ah, I suppose I should ask this question. What would you like to be called for now? Sweetheart? Darling?” She asks, looking back at him.

These nicknames are something he’s not used to. The people who ran that hellhole he stayed in usually called him ‘boy’ with such disdain he could crumble onto the floor. They stopped at nothing to make sure he felt like disappearing. That he was a disappointment to them; but that place was all he had.

Maybe this place is different, and he can be cherished. This woman never once made him feel like he was a burden, even when he thought himself to be.

Maybe he can be safe here.

Maybe he can be loved.

“Rolan.” He finally responds to her.

She looks at him with wide eyes before the brightest smile appears on her face, warm as the sunrise.

Lia squeals as she quickly stands on her chair. “Mom! He talked!”

[earl-grey-teacake]

Hey, it's me again! Cause I'm mass suckered for angst, would you like to expand on the accident snippet? You don't have to :)

I also, really enjoyed all of them aswell!!

Awww! Thank you so much!!!

I had a lot of fun writing them so I'm glad you enjoyed reading them.

Instead of just expanding on the snippet, I wrote a whole fic for it!❤️

I hope you enjoy it!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

******

George could see it out of his mirrors and felt the agony sink into his bones as the blue Williams went straight into the barriers.

Alex!

George wanted to yell, scream, cry. He was in a multitude of emotions as “Red Flag! Red Flag!” blared in his ears. He hoped Logan didn’t see that. Hopefully, his child was still asleep, just as he was before George had left him to return to Mercedes

“How’s Alex? Is he okay?” Please be okay. You have to be okay. Logan will be very upset when he wakes up and doesn’t see you there.

“ He is conscious. Will let you know more when we have info.” Marcus answered.

James Vowles

Wanted to make sure you were aware,

Alex had to be flown to the hospital.

He needed emergency surgery.

They say it’s internal bleeding.

There it was again. That bone-breaking agony. The feeling of his world, his peace, shattering like glass against hardwood. Alex was supposed to be okay. He’s always okay.

Logan.

His son, his baby, was there alone in Williams without his parents. He must have woken up from his nap right now. He should be hungry and asking to be held right now. If you ask George, he doesn’t remember what happened besides sprinting to the Williams garage at breakneck speed.

Logan didn't like the atmosphere in the garage today. He had fallen asleep when the race started and woke up two hours later to find everyone rushing around. He could see his dad's car was back in the garage but Alex wasn't anywhere to be seen. His dad always comes and picks him up the moment he comes back. Even if Logan was asleep, he would bring Logan to the debrief or to the driver's room.

"It's okay. I know you're scared. Let's go wait in my office." James gave a thin smile, carrying the baby carrier into his office. Setting it on a chair, James readjusted the blanket that was slipping off. "It's a bit cold here."

"UH! UH!" Logan was starting to get fussy. He wanted his dad. He wanted to go back to the hotel and play.

"I know. Your dad is just a bit delayed." James smiled before returning back to his phone, hastily shooting off texts.

Logan wanted to cry and wail. It had been so long since he saw his dad. Did his dad forget him here?

The door swung open revealing a frantic Mercedes driver with a bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. I came here as fast as I could."

"It's okay, I didn't expect Alex to have to be flown to the hospital."

George breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Logan. "Hey, Logie. How are you doing?"

"Uhhhh!" Logan kicked his feet and held out his arms, tired of being in the carrier.

George quickly undid the buckle and picked Logan up, hugging him tightly. "We'll go visit Dad right now, okay? He'll be so happy to see you."

"George, it'll be okay. Alex is strong, you know that."

"I know." Logan didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. Even though his dad hugged him tighter, it didn’t feel nice.

Logan was very displeased to have been taken out of his carrier only to be brought to the worst place in the world, the hospital. Logan hated it here. It was bright and loud, and people poked him with needles. He wanted to go home and eat and play with both of his dads. Don’t they understand that?

“Uhhhh!” He fussed in his dad’s arms.

George laid a hand on Logan’s head and gave soft scratches, similar to how he’d seen Alex do.

“Babies are just like little kittens.” Alex had said the first time George asked about it.

The gentle scratching seemed to tickle him and made him squirm and laugh. “Just a little bit more okay? Dad will be so happy to see you when he’s out.” Logan’s found his dad’s voice soothing but his voice sounded the same when Logan got really sick and wouldn’t stop crying.

George busied himself with Logan, tickling him, playing with him. Distracting Logan and by extension himself, from what was happening. Logan clung to his shirt and tried to pull at his hair.

“Ow, ow, ow.” George hissed. “That hurts. Don’t do that.”

“Ba! Ba!” Logan laughed and clapped his hands.

Before George could respond, the doctor walked into the waiting room. “Mr. Russell?”

George felt his heart drop and his throat close up. Holding Logan tightly to his chest, he stood up. “How is he?”

“Mr. Albon is stable. We managed to stop the bleeding and there should be no permanent damage to the hand and wrist. There was some bruising to the chest and lungs but it should heal in a week. He should wake up in an hour, however, given Mr. Albon’s complications with anesthesia in the past we will be keeping him under close supervision.”

Stable. Complications with anesthesia.

George’s mind rushed. How could he forget Alex’s complications during his appendectomy? George almost didn’t drive, wanting to be by Alex’s bedside in case something happened.

“Can we see him?” George needed to see him. He needed to see Alex whole and healthy.

“Yes, of course.”

George never saw what Alex looked like in the ICU but he imagined it looked like the scene in front of him, attached to different machines with a million tubes and wires. It burned to see his husband like this like someone had struck him with a knife.

“AH! AH!” Logan reached out, struggling to wiggle from George’s hold despite the fact that he can’t walk on his own. His other dad was here. He wanted to see his dad.

Logan patted Alex’s arm and pulled at the blanket but nothing. Gone were the laughter and coos and all the noise and happiness associated with Alex. Logan started to whine and fuss, no doubt upset his father who wouldn’t wake up to hug him like he promised.

“Uhhhhhh!” Logan started to fuss, clinging onto Alex’s suit as he tried to place Logan back in his carrier. Logan wrapped his arms around Alex’s neck, refusing to let go.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Alex rubbed circles on Logan’s back and kissed him on the head. “When I come back, I’ll give you all the hugs you want. Okay?”

Logan’s eyes squeezed together and fat tears started to roll down. “WAH! WAH! WAH!”

“Logie! Shhhh! It’s okay. I know you’re upset but Daddy will wake up soon. Shhhh.” George started to rock him but Logan refused to have any part of it.

He was tired and fussy and he wanted to go home. He didn’t like the loud beeping and the weird machines and he really didn’t like his dad not waking up to play with him.

“WAH! WAH! WAH!”

“Please, Logie.” George pleaded as Logan buried his face into George’s shoulder. “Please stop crying. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Logan, however, was inconsolable. His poor little face was scrunched up and he wailed until he started to choke and cough and was unable to cry loudly anymore. So he stuffed his face into George’s shoulder and cried silently instead. George felt the puddle of tears forming on his shoulder and the fragile yet violent way Logan’s body shook with anger and exhaustion.

He tried to walk around the room and rub small circles on Logan’s back the way Alex always did but Alex was always better at it. He had a sort of charm George just didn’t have with Logan. Logan could cry for what seemed like hours and all Alex would have to do was pick him up and coddle him and Logan would be laughing as if nothing happened. Their house was always filled with laughter when Alex was at home.

“Please Logie,” George begged, his throat heavy and his eyes burning. “I know I’m not like Daddy, but please stop crying. You’ll make yourself sick if you keep crying this hard.”

He wasn’t Alex. He couldn’t replace Alex for Logan. He couldn’t comfort their son or make him laugh the way his beloved always did from the moment they brought Logan home.

“Please…Logie. I know. Dad’s here, okay? I’m right here.”

He didn’t know how long he cried but he knew he stopped after their son had fallen asleep. Still clinging to George, Logan was knocked out with the puddle of drool replacing the puddle of tears made earlier. With one hand supporting Logan, George reached out to take Alex’s hand.

“Look, Alex. I did it,” George let out a wet, pitiful laugh. The only sounds accompanying him were the beeping of the machines and Alex’s and Logan’s breathing.

“You need to hurry and wake up Alex. Please wake up. I can’t do it without you.”

***

Alex felt like someone had run him over with his own car. His throat felt like sandpaper and every joint from his knees to his knuckles ached fiercely. He knew the blinding fluorescent lights and the wires well from his time in the ICU and one time George rushed him to the ER over a broken collarbone. He tried to move his hand to shield his eyes from the lights but found it being held down.

Alex turned his head to the side with great effort and saw the most beautiful scene he could wake up in the hospital to. George was sleeping in a chair next to him and in his arms was their son, curled up against his dad’s chest and sleeping soundly without a care in the world. It warmed his heart to know the two people he loved most in the world were okay.

He stared at the tight hold George had on Logan and the grip he had on Alex’s hands and felt so grateful to have a husband who loved him and their child so much. Knowing Logan, he would have given George a hard time at night so Alex didn’t feel compelled to wake him. Logan, however, was starting to show signs of fussiness and waking up.

If Alex had the strength, he would’ve sat up and taken Logan out of George’s arm to lull him back to sleep but instead, he watched as Logan slowly opened his bright blue eyes and locked onto Alex. Alex gave a smile back hoping to lull his son back to sleep but it only received a wide, gummy smile in return.

As Logan started to move towards Alex, George's arm instinctively tightened around him. This did not dissuade the baby, instead, it only caused Logan to wrestle with George even more as he tried to pull himself over to Alex.

“Logie,” George muttered. “You’re going to fall.” His grip getting tighter which only earned him protests.

“Ba! Babababa!” Logan hit his tiny fists against George’s chest.

“Mhm, go back to sleep, Logie.”

“Bababababa! Babababa!” Logan was getting more agitated at his dad getting in the way of his goal. Doesn’t he realize that Logan wants to hug his other dad? His face was getting red and scrunched him as he kept protesting.

“Georgie.” Alex rubbed his thumb against George’s hand.

“Hm?”

“Do you want me to take him?” God that sounded awful coming from his throat.

“Huh?” George’s eyes slowly blinked out. Now that he had a closer look, Alex could tell with certainty Logan had given his poor husband a hard time.

George stared off into the distance for was seemed like minutes before whipping his head around to see Alex lying in bed. His eyes, which were filled with exhaustion just moments ago, turned glassy and wet and his grip on Alex’s hands tightened. “Oh my god, you’re okay. Oh, thank god.”

Alex laughed. “Aww, did you have a rough night?”

“I was so worried Alex. Me, Logan, we were both so worried about you.” George picked up Alex’s hand and held it to his cheek. “I was so worried I was going to lose you and have to raise Logan all alone. I-I can’t do it without you.” His voice cracking up as a tear fell from his eyes.

“Awww, Georgie. I would never leave you. Especially with Logan around, you can’t stop him from crying without you also crying.” Alex joked, hoping to cheer his husband up. Once their home, they can talk about it more seriously, but now, he just needs to see George smile.

George gave a feeble laugh before wincing in pain as Logan yanked roughly on his hair.

“Owowowow! Logan, no!”

Alex gave a deep laugh. “Aww, here let me take him.”

Navigating around the wires, George placed Logan in Alex’s arms. “I missed you so much, Logie. Did you miss me? Did you have fun with Dad?” Alex asked as Logan curled up against Alex’s chest and wrapped his tiny arms around him.

“Aww, baby.” Alex cooed, kissing him on the top of his head. “I missed you too. I didn’t hug you huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break my promise to you.” Alex hugged Logan tightly to his chest as an apology as his son babbled happily and poked at the little dots on the hospital gown.

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