#just ugly crying over the softness & love in this ask

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 1

Summary: Everything was fine. You were happy. Your mother was expecting a child, and soon enough, you would have another one to call family, to call your own. Everything was perfect. What could possibly go wrong?

˚꒰notes꒱‧ Reader is Rhaenyra's twin. Criston is already reader personal gourd. Dark reader. English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The chamber was warm, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon light that streamed through the narrow windows, casting golden patterns on the stone floor. Y/n stood by her mother’s bedside, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Aemma’s face. Her mother was always beautiful, but now, heavy with child, there was a fragility to her that made Y/n’s heart stir in ways she wasn’t used to. A strange protectiveness, an almost suffocating need to keep her safe from all the sharp, ugly things in the world.

Aemma’s hand, delicate and pale, rested atop her swollen belly. Her breathing was slow, rhythmic, and tired. Y/n could see it, the weariness that clung to her mother’s every movement. She had been sick often lately, and though no one spoke of it, Y/n could feel something dark looming over them. Something inevitable.

"You must be kind, Y/n," Aemma said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but still full of that soft warmth that made her sound so motherly. "Be careful… be kind. To people… to the babe."

Her mother’s words hung in the air, and Y/n felt a smile tug at her lips—soft, gentle. Kind. I have always been kind, she thought, her mind drifting to the moments where she had shown her love, in the ways only she knew how.

“I am kind,” she replied softly, kneeling beside her mother’s bed and taking Aemma’s hand. It was cool to the touch, but still, her mother’s fingers closed weakly around hers. “I’ve always been kind to you, Mother. To Father, to Rhaenyra... I will be kind to my brother too.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, a secret shared between them. “I’ve already chosen a dragon egg for him. Dreamfyre's, and he will be great. He will be a king, Mother.”

Aemma smiled, but it was tired, worn. “You sound so certain it’s a boy,” she said with a faint laugh, but there was no real joy behind it—just exhaustion.

“It’s just a feeling,” Y/n said, her smile deepening as she leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek, lingering just a little too long. Her skin is soft, she thought, and cold. Like a candle that’s been left to burn too long. But that’s alright. Y/n had warmth enough for both of them. She could give that to her. She would always take care of her mother.

Her lips brushed her mother’s cheek one last time before she pulled away, straightening her posture. "Rest, Mother," she whispered, her fingers trailing lightly over Aemma’s arm as she withdrew. “I’ll be back soon.”

As she left the chamber, Y/n's mind wandered. A king. My little brother will be a king, and he will love me more than anyone else. More than Rhaenyra ever could. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Her brother, with silver hair like hers, riding a dragon she had chosen for him. She could already see it—the two of them, bounding, and nothing would ever come between them. This time there would be no rats like that cunt, Alicent.

But now... now she had other needs to attend to. A different kind of satisfaction.

She made her way through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, her mind already drifting to him. Her favorite. He’s always so eager for me, she thought with a smirk. So desperate to please, so desperate to be needed. She liked that about him—his submission, his willingness to do whatever she asked without question. And his hair... gods, his silver hair. It always reminded her of home.

She reached the brothels and paused at the door, her hand resting on the cold wood. Do I want him soft tonight? Or do I want to see him cry? She wasn’t sure yet. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Pushing open the door, she stepped inside, her eyes immediately finding him. He was kneeling, waiting, as she had taught him to. His head bowed, silver hair falling into his eyes. The sight sent a flicker of warmth through her—something like affection, but sharper. He’s beautiful, she thought. Perfect.

"Look at me," she commanded softly, and he obeyed, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were wide, nervous. Good. She liked him that way.

"I’ve missed you," she purred, moving closer, her fingers already itching to thread through his hair. Yes, he’ll do well tonight. Maybe I’ll let him cum.

The smile that spread across her lips was soft, almost tender. I am always kind.

The room was dark, the air thick with the remnants of sleep. Y/n stirred under the silk sheets, her body warm, still damp from the night’s indulgences. Her skin glowed faintly in the low light, the satisfaction of her desires lingering like an aftertaste. She let out a sigh, stretching lazily, the weight of Aelor’s body no longer pressed against hers.

Then she heard it. A faint sound—something off. Her eyes snapped open, sharp, awake.

Aelor stood at the foot of the bed, naked but trembling, a dagger held to his throat. His silver hair was messy, his chest rising and falling quickly, eyes wild with panic.

She sat up slowly, letting the sheets fall from her body, completely unbothered by her nakedness. Her gaze locked onto the dagger, her voice calm, almost disinterested. "Aelor," she said softly, “put that away.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he shook harder, his knuckles white around the handle of the blade. “I can’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking. "I can’t do this anymore."

Y/n frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean?"

Aelor let out a sob, his knees buckling as he stumbled backward, pressing the dagger harder against his skin. “You—you’ve made me miserable! Every time I’m with you, I feel like I’m dying. You’re cruel, you’re wicked, and you’ve taken everything from me! I hate you!”

Y/n blinked, her head tilting slightly, almost like she was confused. “You hate me?” she repeated, the words foreign to her. No one hated her. How could they? She was perfect. Is this a joke? She didn’t like it.

“Yes!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “You’ve ruined me! I want to die! I want to end it, right here, right now!”

For a moment, she just stared at him, her mind racing. This is ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous.

"Aelor," she said, her voice low, almost soothing. "Stop this nonsense. I can give you anything you want. Do you want gold? A dragon egg? A house by the sea? Just put the dagger down and tell me what you want."

But he shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t want any of that! I want to die! I want to be free of you!”

Die? The word was distant to her. Why would he want that? He has everything. She shifted, the furs slipping from her as she regarded him coolly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aelor. You have a good life. You’re mine. What could be so bad about that?”

But he wasn’t listening. His breaths were coming out in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he teetered on the edge of some terrible decision. “I can’t... I can’t... I want this to stop. I want—”

And then she heard it. A whisper. Faint, from the other side of the door.

“The queen… she’s gone.”

Her heart stopped.

Everything froze. The room, Aelor, the very air around her seemed to still as the words sank in.

"The queen is dead," came another hushed voice from outside the door. "Died in the birthing bed."

The words hit Y/n like a physical blow, sinking deep into her chest. Dead? No. Not Mother.

The room spun, and suddenly her world collapsed in on itself, like a dying star pulling everything into its cold, black heart. Her breathing quickened. She blinked fast, too fast. Her mother was gone. Her mother was gone.

No.

She felt her throat tighten, the air in the room thick and heavy, pressing against her skin. Her vision blurred, the walls seeming to warp and bend. She could hear something—an incessant buzzing in her ears, like bees trapped inside her skull, buzzing louder and louder until it drowned out everything else.

Y/n’s world collapsed inward. The sound of blood rushing in her ears, louder and louder, a deafening buzz. Her vision blurred, the room swimming, spinning. Mother. Mother is dead. She’s gone.

She tried to shake her head, tried to clear the sound, but it wouldn’t stop. The room was too bright. Too small. Too loud.

Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the edges of her world shrank, leaving only the endless ringing in her ears and the hollow, aching emptiness that stretched out before her.

Gone.

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head, trying to clear it, but the buzzing only grew louder, drowning out everything else. She wanted to scream, wanted to tear the walls apart, to make everything stop, but her body wouldn’t move. Her hands twitched, her fingers curling into the sheets, the fabric slipping through her grasp as if it wasn’t even there.

And then, through the haze, she saw Aelor again, standing there, still holding the dagger to his throat, still crying, still screaming for a release that didn’t matter anymore.

For a moment, she just looked at him. Her mind was blank, her heart hollow. Then, like ice breaking through, her lips twisted into something resembling a smile, cold and sharp.

“You know what?” she said softly, her voice almost sweet. “You should do it.”

Aelor blinked, his tears stopping momentarily as confusion washed over his face. “W-what?”

“Go on,” she urged, her voice a low, deadly whisper now. “Slide it across your throat. End it, like you said.”

His face paled, and the dagger in his hand shook. “No… I don’t—”

“I’m not asking.” Her voice was like steel, cold and unyielding, her eyes dark and focused on him with terrifying intensity. “I’m telling you. Do it.”

“Y/n, please—”

“Do it!” Her voice cracked, sharp and vicious. “You want to die, don’t you? You hate me, don’t you? Well, go ahead, Aelor. Do it. Kill yourself. Right here, right now.”

He stumbling back, eyes wide with terror. “No… I don’t want to—”

Y/n stood, the sheet slipping from her naked body as she stepped forward, her eyes locked on his. “Oh, but you were so sure a moment ago. You were so brave.” Her voice was mocking now, cruel and sadistic. “What happened, Aelor? Where did all that courage go?”

He whimpered, pressing himself against the wall as if he could disappear into it, his eyes wide with horror.

And Y/n’s smile widened, her gaze never leaving his. "Do it," she whispered again, her voice now laced with something dark, something cold. Like Mother’s skin. Cold like her.

Criston stood outside the king’s chamber, listening to the muffled sobs of the king as he grieved for his dead wife. It was a sound that shook him—a king reduced to tears, broken by a loss so profound that even Criston, found himself feeling an unfamiliar weight in his chest.

Rhaenyra sat silently beside her father, pale and stiff, like a statue carved from stone. But Y/n was nowhere to be found.

"Where is she?" the king whispered, his voice hoarse. "Where is Y/n?"

Rhaenyra lifted her eyes, but said nothing, her gaze distant, lost. She was mourning too.

Criston stepped forward, his hand instinctively tightening around the pommel of his sword. He knew where the princess was. He always knew. She had a… pattern.

Viserys looked up, his eyes red and swollen. "Find her. Bring her back."

Criston nodded, his expression calm but his insides twisting. "Yes, my king." He turned swiftly, leaving the room with heavy steps, his mind already racing. The brothel. She's at the brothel.

He moved with purpose, the corridors of the Red Keep passing in a blur as he descended into the streets of King's Landing. The brothel was well know, a place where she often disappeared when the weight of her world became too much. The place where she would indulge in the pleasures that soothed her disturbed soul. Criston had been there many times—always to fetch her, to drag her back to the world she so desperately wanted to escape.

The madam greeted him at the door, her face a practiced mask of indifference. She knew why he was here. She always knew.

"The princess?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.

The madam didn’t even blink. "Upstairs. First room on the left."

Criston didn’t wait for more. He strode through the dimly lit hall, the stench of sweat, wine, and sex thick in the air. His heart pounded harder with each step, the weight of dread settling in his gut. He knew Y/n's moods—her recklessness—but something felt different this time. Something was wrong.

He reached the door, pushing it open without hesitation. The sight before him made his breath catch in his throat.

The man, her lover, lay sprawled on the floor, his throat slit from ear to ear, blood pooling beneath him like a dark, crimson lake. The smell of death hit him instantly—metallic, thick, suffocating.

And there, in the center of the room, sat Y/n. Naked, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her skin was stained with blood—his blood—and in her hand, she still clutched the dagger. Her face was blank, hollow, as if all life had drained from her.

Criston’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. Gods. What has she done?

Without thinking, he rushed to her side, kneeling in the blood, ignoring the way it soaked into his white cloak, staining it red. His hands were shaking as he reached for her, gently trying to pry the dagger from her grip. "My princess… Y/n… what have you done?" His voice was soft, filled with worry, but there was no judgment, no anger. Only concern. Only devotion.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were distant, staring ahead as if she were seeing something far beyond this room, far beyond the dead body at her feet.

Criston’s heart raced as he pulled the bloodied dagger from her hand, tossing it aside. He reached for the corner of his cloak, the pristine white fabric now ruined, and began to gently wipe the blood from her skin. His hands moved with care, as if she were fragile—like a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment.

"My princess," he whispered again, his voice tight with desperation. "It's me, Criston. It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here."

But she still didn’t respond. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes unblinking. Criston could see the toll it was taking on her, the way her body shook faintly with each breath. She looked… lost. Like the little girl she had once been, scared and small.

“I want to go home,” she whispered, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it.

He froze, his hand stilling on her arm as he looked at her. She didn’t meet his gaze, didn’t seem to even recognize him.

“I want to go home to my mother,” she repeated, her voice breaking, fragile, as if she were clinging to some distant hope.

Criston’s heart shattered. The queen. He knew the news hadn’t reached her yet. Her world had been her mother, and now… The queen was gone.

He swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in his eyes as he reached for a cloak from the bed, wrapping it carefully around her naked body, covering her from the cold that seemed to seep into her skin. "You’ll go home," he whispered, his voice trembling just slightly. "I’ll take you home."

With a soft grunt, he lifted her into his arms, her body limp and unresponsive as he held her against his chest. She was so small, so light. He hated seeing her like this. She was always so strong, so sharp. But now… now she was silent, and it terrified him.

He held her tightly, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, his white cloak now drenched in blood as he carried her through the brothel.

The madam said nothing as they passed, and the other patrons kept their eyes averted. Criston’s face was set, his jaw clenched, his eyes forward.

I’ll take her home. It's alright. Everything would be fine.

Even if the rest of the world collapsed around them, he would be there. Always. For her. Only for her.

As they left the brothel behind, he felt her shift slightly in his arms, her breath warm against his neck.

“I’ll take you home, princess,” he whispered again, more to himself than to her. "You don't need to be scared anymore."

Part 2. Part 3.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 5

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

The silence in the room was so oppressive Zahra could almost feel it pressing down on her skin, crushing the very air from her lungs.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thumping in her chest with a steady, pounding rhythm. She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, but she didn’t dare to look at him.

Zahra wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the pity in his eyes.

And she knew it would be there. 

Her hands were so tightly clenched in the sheets that her muscles ached. Her eyes were still squeezed closed, trying to keep in the tears.

Gods, she couldn’t cry.  Not in front of him. She’d already bared enough of her soul to the male. He knew far more about her than anyone else in the world. 

And that realisation was terrifying.

She hadn’t wanted anybody to know. She hadn’t wanted anybody ever to find out. 

It would have been her secret to take to the grave with herself. 

Nobody would have needed to know, right? 

Not even her mate. She would have gladly kept it a secret from him too. Would have gladly never told the male fate had in store for her, how broken exactly she was. How…destroyed she was. 

Zahra swallowed, feeling the warm and large hand around her own. He was too gentle with her, too careful to touch her.

She didn’t deserve that gentleness. Didn’t deserve it when she was the one that had been damaged and broken and used. “Zahra,” Azriel whispered, his voice deep and quiet. “Please look at me.”

And so she did look at him, even when she didn’t want to…looked at this man that she loved…the tears that filled them pooling but not falling. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, and her heart ached at the sight of him.

His lips were set in a grim line, a frown creasing his forehead. His eyes traced across her face, scanning every little part of her. She didn’t want him to look at her. Didn’t want him to see…her like that.  Didn’t want him to see the ugly and jagged edges that stuck out like spikes… The shadows swirled and curled over his body in an almost protective barrier.

And still…he was so gentle…so kind. 

“You’ve survived so much,” Azriel said quietly. “So much pain and horror. And you…you don’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, none of it. He hurt you, and you were hurt for years.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed heavily.

A tear finally escaped from her eye, trickling down towards her temple and into her hair. 

Years. 

She had lost count of how often it had happened. She didn’t want to know an exact number either. She didn’t even want to think about what he had done to her. 

She didn’t want to remember. 

Azriel seemed to sense that. 

“Do you want a bath?” Azriel asked her, still holding her hands. “Wash off the blood? The shadows can help you.”

She took an uneven breath, her eyes still locked on his face. Zahra hated how gentle he was being, how careful and soft and concerned for her he was. She didn’t deserve either his care or his concern. 

She…she shouldn’t…

She didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve that kindness and that gentleness.

Still, she nodded. 

Bath. Clean. As clean as she could get anyway…

His hands, warm and large, reached out to her. And when he scooped her up like she weighed nothing…she was too tired and pained to protest. 

It still ached…deep within her. 

And she hated it. 

Zahra rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. She felt the shadows whisper soft touch against her skin, as Azriel carried her into the bathroom, the bathtub already filling…he lowered her into it, hot water lapping at her skin.

She slumped against the side of the bathtub, letting her eyes flutter closed. The hot water felt strangely soothing against the pain and ache of her body.

“The shadows are here if you need anything,” Azriel said softly. “If you need anything, just tell them. I’ll put clean sheets on the bed.”

She couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of him dealing with her bloody linens. 

“You don’t need to do that,” she protested. He didn’t need to… her sheets were drenched with her blood. 

He stilled, and Zahra could almost hear the frown creasing his forehead.

“I am not about to leave you here to change them yourself,” Azriel said drily. “I can just about manage to put fresh sheets on a bed.”

“They are drenched in blood,” she replied weakly. He knelt down beside the tub, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

“I have dealt with blood my whole life. It doesn’t matter,” he promised her.

Yeah, but that hadn’t been…that had been blood spilt from a wound and not…

His mouth was set in a grim line, anger simmering in those dark eyes, as he saw the shame on her face. “Don’t,” he said sternly. “Don’t you dare think for even a minute that I find you…repulsive or tainted, because of this, or because of what happened to you and what you’ve had to do. You’re not. ”

She swallowed, still able to hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice. It wasn’t anger directed at her, but it was anger all the same.

Every thought and emotion Zahra was feeling was swirling in a confusing, chaotic torrent in her mind. She was so tired, but her brain would not be silent. And it kept going over the same thing, over and over.

“But I am,” she said hoarsely. “I am tainted.”

His eyes darkened at that, and he clenched his jaw. The shadows around them grew even darker, swirling agitatedly in the air.

“You aren’t,” he disagreed firmly. “The things that have happened to you…gods above, they should never have happened. But they didn’t taint you. ”

“Of course they did,” she snapped. It was like all the anger and pain and bitter resentment that she’d smothered away and locked deep in her chest was bubbling up, escaping past her attempts to keep it hidden. “Of course, they did! If you know what he did to me, you wouldn’t even be able to look at me!”

He took it. All the rage that she was throwing in front of his feet because she needed throw it at somebody… he didn’t flinch. He didn’t back down. 

He weathered it. He reached out…one of those horribly scarred hands cupped her cheeks instead. 

“I would,” he disagreed with her. “I refuse to let you think that whatever happened has somehow lessened you in my eyes, that it somehow makes you unworthy or tainted.”

She couldn’t stop the new trickle of tears that escaped from her eyes, the pain in her heart and her body too damn overwhelming.

“How?” She asked hoarsely. “How can you say that?!”

These hazel green eyes met her own. 

“Because I care about you, Zahra, and I can’t stand you thinking that this….this horrible, vile thing has changed anything,” Azriel promised her fiercely. “And because…because you are my mate. And nothing will ever change that. ” 

No. No, this wasn’t… he couldn’t be her mate. He couldn’t be…He…

He was too good for her. Too kind. Too…too gentle. 

This perfect, scarred, beautiful male. One of the fiercest warriors in the Night Court. The Shadowsinger. Her mate.

How could he even entertain that thought. 

He wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks, endlessly gentle as tears ran down her face. “You’re stuck with me,” Azriel said hoarsely. And I don’t care what you’ve had to do or what you had to sacrifice. This will not change what you mean to me.”

Her chest was aching so painfully she could hardly breathe, and it was like her heart was breaking itself apart with grief and shame.

He said he didn’t care what she’d had to do. But he hadn’t let her speak of the worst of it. He didn’t know, he didn’t know.

“You might change your mind when you know everything I’ve done,” Zahra whispered.

His hand paused, the scarred palm cupping the side of her face. “No,” Azriel said firmly. “I won’t. And don’t think that I can’t guess half of what you had to do. I know that you had to endure far, far more than anyone should ever have to, but it changes nothing between us,” he promised her.  

“Take that bath,” he said softly. “You don’t need to decide anything. Not right now. I’ll change the sheets and then you can go to sleep. And we’ll talk whenever you are ready.”

Her eyes were burning again and her heart twisted, but she nodded. She wanted to protest and argue and insist that she was alright, but he wouldn’t listen to her anyway.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Alright, I’ll—alright.”

Everything hurt. Her body ached as it had after the worst of it, ached and hurt.

She scrubbed at her skin until it was red and raw, as though she could wash away the memories and the pain and the shame.

But despite the hot water, it felt as though she was freezing, and the memories kept floating into her mind.

She could hear Azriel move in the other room, heard the steps he knew were only audible because he wanted them to be.

It was comforting, hearing those footsteps. Hearing him move around just beyond the door, so close and safe and near to her.

Zahra almost told him to come back, just so she could see him and be with him for a few more moments. But she didn’t. It wasn’t fair to him to be around her while she was like this, not when he deserved so much better than her.

She floated away into the numbness, her eyes closing. She felt the shadows jostle her gently, but she didn’t even react. They had never hurt her before. 

Why should she flinch away from them. 

“Sunshine.” Her eyes only opened weakly. Azriel was back. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Her limbs felt strangely and eerily disconnected from her body, even as Azriel’s hands moved her out of the tub, as the shadows wrapped her into a towel…even as they helped her into a fresh nightgown, letting them move her like some kind of strange lifeless doll. 

Azriel scooped her up into those strong arms, holding her against his broad chest. 

She thought that she should protest. That she should struggle and fight and insist he put her down. But when she was held so close to him, all she wanted was to rest her head against his shoulder...all she wanted was to nuzzle into the warmth of him. 

He laid her gently down on the mattress. The sheets were clean and fresh, smelling of crisp soap, and her bed was soft and warm beneath her.

He went to move away and leave her, but before he could, she reached out and fisted her hand in his shirt.

She forced her eyes open, forced herself to look at him…and then she felt it.

The unfurling of something inside her chest. Something warm and safe and secure.

The bond. The Mating Bond.

Even as the realisation sank in, the link between them flared with that feeling. Warmth and safety and a fierce, possessive protectiveness that she had never felt before.

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she could see the realization dawn in his expression.

He’d felt it too. Felt the bond snap into place between them like a line of rope, tying them together in a way they could never untangle.

“Stay.“

He blinked, his eyes flickering over her face.

And then, without a word, he climbed into the bed.

He laid down next to her, and he pulled her gently against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, one wing came down to cocoon her and she felt more comfortable and safe than she ever had before.

“Rest,” Azriel said again. “Just sleep. It’s alright.”

She shut her eyes, letting the tiredness crash down over her. She breathed in the scent of him, of that cedar forest scent mixed with rain and mist.

He was safe, and she was protected. And for the first time in years, she allowed herself to relax into the touch and comfort.

And for the first time in a long time, her sleep was dreamless. 

***

Zahra was sleeping. Her face was still pale...but she had curled up against his side, and her breathing was even and deep...

She was his mate. His mate.

He had waited 500 years for her. And now he had found her, in Zahra.

In his friend. Because that's what they had become. Friends.

Though he had been a horrible friend for not even realising even a smidgen of what had gone on.

Part of him felt like he should get up and walk away. Let her sleep and not disturb her rest.

But the other, louder part of him that was utterly possessive and protective of her wouldn’t let him even think about it.

He wanted to hold her. Wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her safe. The urge to protect and comfort and have her as close as possible was overwhelming.

As was the urge to slaughter that human man who had dared to lay a hand on his mate. We’ll kill him, his shadows hissed. Slowly. Hurt him until he begs for mercy.

His shadows had always been somewhat possessive of him. Over the years they’d even become somewhat protective towards the other members of the inner circle... but never had Azriel ever seen them react with this kind of anger.

This wasn't anger. This was fury.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the shadows would be upset by what had happened to Zahra. But they were.

The thought of hurting the man wasn’t even a consideration. Azriel would gladly tear the human limb from limb for what he’d done.

He couldn't help but snarl silently, as he remembered everything she had told him.

His hands clenched unconsciously, his arms tightening around her body in a protective vice. She was his mate, and he would do anything to keep her safe now.

Azriel had never had this desperate protectiveness before. It was the bond, he told himself. His mate instinct taking over his brain, making him want to guard and defend and keep her.

Ours, his shadows hissed. Ours, ours, ours.

She was his mate. And no one was ever going to touch her again. No one was ever going to hurt her. Not physically, or emotionally.

He and his shadows would keep her safe. They’d keep her with them, safe and secure and loved for the rest of her life.

No one would ever hurt her again. Ever.

Not that human male. Not any fae. He would lay waste to the entirety of Prythian to make sure that Zahra would be safe.

Every single instinct was screaming at him to keep her here. To keep her close, where she was safe and protected and no one could harm her.

She was his mate. A part of him. The thought of her being in danger, of being hurt, made him feel sick to the stomach.

He would burn Prythian to the ground if it meant keeping her safe. He would start a war, he would do anything.

And he counted their family into this equation as well. Before some of the treatment that Zahra had received from her sisters had upset Azriel, had felt unfair. Now...now he was so fucking furious that he didn't trust himself not to rip out Nesta's throat the next time he saw her.

He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this angry with his family. He might have felt hurt or annoyed, or even frustrated....but he had swallowed it all down. Hadn't wanted to have that argument...hadn't wanted....But now...

Now though... now it was anger and fury and a vicious protectiveness.

The thought of how they’d all treated her before—how they’d laughed or joked or been rude or simply ignored her—made his blood boil.

How dare they treat her like that? She was his mate.

His own family had done this to her. His own family, her own sisters, had treated her so cruelly for all this time. And they hadn't known what Zahra had sacrificed for their survival...didn't know what she went through on a daily basis as a result of it.

Either she was treated like she didn't matter or like she didn't exist. Ignoring her and berating her in equal measures.

His jaw hurt, his teeth gritted together as he thought about the way they’d treated her.

Zahra had put up with it. She’d taken it all, silently. And that only made him angrier. Because she’d allowed them to treat her like she was a burden like she was nothing. She’d never complained or spoken about it, even once. Like she didn’t deserve anything else. Like she wasn’t worth more.

They would not do that anymore. Ever.

Azriel was done.

No one was ever going to treat her like that again. 

Even the thought of it made his jaw hurt. He’d never felt this furious before. The thought of what they’d done to her…his own family…

He’d thought they would do better. Thought that the inner circle were all…better than that. Thought that they wouldn't be so heartless. But they’d ignored Zahra, over and over again.

His shadows hissed, writhing angrily around him, and he had to bite back the urge to snarl.

Because he himself hadn't been better either until it had been nearly too late.

He had been so blind. So utterly useless, not to have seen how she had been suffering and struggling...

Not to have realised that he’d been missing out on a beautiful, kind, intelligent female. Just because he’d been so absorbed in his own pity party.

He should have done better.

He would do better now.

He’d never make this mistake again. Not when it came to his mate.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew that much. But he would spend the rest of their goddamn lives together until he made up for how he’d been so blind.

He deserved nothing. He deserved to have his head on a spike for being so stupid.

But he would spend the rest of their days paying this debt.

He would keep her safe.

He would never allow her to feel small or insignificant again.

He would make damn sure of that.

He tightened his grip around her. She was curled against his side, her head laid against his chest. She was safe. She was safe.

His arm was wrapped around her protectively, and he thought, for the first time, that he understood how Rhys felt about Feyre. Understood that desperate, possessive, protective urge.

She was his. And he would not allow a single person to hurt her ever again.

Not even himself.

He would take care of her.

He would do anything to keep her safe. To keep her healthy and happy and loved.

She was his mate.

He reached out for that mental tether that Rhys kept for him and yanked at it sharply.

The reply came just as quickly.

What is it?

Rhys’s mind voice echoed into his head.

I need to talk to you, Azriel replied, as Zahra shifted a little against his side, her arm moving across his chest. Now.

It's the middle of the night, Rhys said drily. If you are having one of your temper tantrums, can it wait until tomorrow?

Azriel wanted to bristle. He didn't.

I met my mate, he cut off Rhys. I figured you would like to know that. I’ll take the rest of the week off. You’ll have my reports on your desk come tomorrow.

The mental silence on the other end of the mental link was enough to tell him that Rhys had been shocked.

Your mate, Rhys’ mind voice finally echoed. You’ve found your mate?

Yes, Azriel replied, as Zahra shifted a little again, her arm rubbing over his chest.

There was a pause, and he could practically see the disbelief and surprise on his brother’s face.

Who is it?

Good Night, Rhysand, he shot back.

And he cut the link between their minds before Rhys had a chance to protest.

[starsofang]

To Be Loved is to Be Seen

johnny mactavish x f!reader

word count: 5.2k

tw: NSFW content, abuse (from other partner), hurt/comfort, smut, oral, p in v, happy ending, bad scottish accent (i tried)

Johnny hated your boyfriend. In fact, if he could string him up on a pole and castrate the bloke himself, he’d do it with a damn smile — that was how much he loathed him.

To get you to realize how shitty your boyfriend was felt like a near impossible task. Alas, you didn’t know Johnny, but Johnny certainly knew you. How could he not, when he’d spent every morning and every night, hearing your shouts and pitiful whimpers of defeat through the thin walls of your neighboring apartments?

He knew your boyfriend had spouts of anger, could tell from the sounds of drywall cracking on occasion, or the sounds of things clattering in a messy heap on the floor, sometimes shattering, sometimes rolling around after a particularly loud thud.

Your boyfriend was a nuisance that didn’t know how to care for a woman, and he made a show of it every night when Johnny heard him.

Now, Johnny was a respectful man. He’d never hurt another person unless they were deserving — perks of being in the military, it made that excuse much easier to use.

But your boyfriend? He was more than deserving. He was practically asking for Johnny to bash his pathetic face in, cowering beneath Johnny as he pleaded and begged for him to stop.

Johnny just had to figure out a way to slowly slip into your life, befriend you as a friendly neighbor, so he could kick the damn reality into that pretty head of yours. After all, Johnny would never hit you. Johnny would never call you names. Johnny would never make you cry in anguish.

The opportunity arose when he went to collect his mail and saw you standing there, fumbling with your mail key in frustration. Faulty lock, he assumed, but that was perfect for him.

“Need some ‘elp?” Johnny asked you, and when you perked your head up in surprise, he was already plotting murder in his mind when he saw the ugly bruise being sported underneath your eye.

“Oh. Yeah, actually, stupid thing never wants to unlock,” you said, and your voice up close and not through a thin wall was like sweet nectar from a flower.

He smiled with a nod, politely stepping up to your mailbox. You handed him the key, and he eagerly placed it in the lock. Wiggling it around a bit, it took him a few moments and grunts of concentration before the mailbox popped open.

Your face lit up in delight and you profusely thanked him, taking the key from his hands. Your hands were soft and warm, he noted when the two of yours brushed during the exchange, and he felt his heart swell with affection.

Such pretty hands on such a pretty girl should be kissed and held with nothing less than care. They shouldn’t be the victim of a fighting match, where it was obvious you were the losing opponent every time.

“No’ a problem. Johnny,” he introduced with his hand outstretched, and when you flashed him that smile as you introduced yourself back, he made it his absolute mission to make sure this wouldn’t be your last interaction.

The next time you saw Johnny, it was when the two of you were leaving your respective apartments at the same time (really, Johnny had been listening on for signs of when you’d leave as an excuse to leave his own place).

You lit up when you saw him, once again thanking him for helping you with the mailbox. Your eyes fluttered over to his door that he was in the process of locking, and you realized dumbly that he was your neighbor.

“I didn’t know you lived next to us, Johnny!” Us. The word made his eye twitch. “You’ve never introduced yourself.”

“No’ around all tha’ much.” He shrugged, and you hummed in understanding.

“I see. I’ve got to get to work, but it was nice seeing you, Johnny. Don’t be a stranger!”

He watched you go, feet leading you down the hall and towards the elevator of the building. He stood frozen in place, the breath in his lungs caught when he noticed the bruising on the back of your exposed calves from the skirt you wore.

A knock on his door days later had Johnny grumbling to himself, and when he checked the time, it was nearing midnight. He’d normally be on guard, what with his whole military career, but the only people that ever visited his place were Simon, Kyle, or Price.

Opening the door, it was neither of the three and instead, you. Sporting comfortable pajamas that swallowed you whole and made him want to scoop you up and keep you safe.

“Hi, Johnny! Were you sleeping?”

He was, but that didn’t matter.

“Nah, wasn’t sleepin’. Ye need somethin’, love?”

You threw him a sheepish smile that could melt any man’s heart. It was a wonder how your own man couldn’t see that. “I, ah, ran out of sugar. Baking’s my hobby, y’know? Silly me, I forgot to buy some from the shop.”

“…S’midnight.”

“…Is that a no to the sugar?”

Johnny huffed out a laugh, a smile perking on his lips. You were cute, it was to die for.

“Nah. ‘Course ye can have sugar. Tha’ all you came ‘ere for?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating something Johnny wasn’t aware of. Now that he thought about it, your shitty boyfriend wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he hadn’t heard any noise from your apartment earlier.

“Well,” you began, inhaling before slowly exhaling. “Okay, no, I don’t need the sugar. I have plenty of it, actually. It’s just, ah…”

“Go on.”

“My boyfriend went out with some friends tonight and I don’t really want to be alone. I get nervous when I’m by myself, y’know?”

Your boyfriend knew this, and didn’t even bother to bring you with? Wasn’t texting you throughout the night to give you sweet reassurances, telling you he’d be home soon? Was he even out with his friends?

“Ye dinnae have any girl friends to call?” Johnny asked carefully, not wanting to make you feel unwelcome, but also wanting to tread on a thin line. He couldn’t jump to the opportunity, or you might think he’s weird and eager.

When you shook your head with a defeated look on your face, his own heart shattering rang in his ears. The fact you had no friends to confide in, to go out and enjoy yourself with, it didn’t sit right with him.

Silently, he opened up his door a bit more to welcome you in, and you flashed him a pretty smile before eagerly prancing inside.

His apartment was a bit underwhelming, and there wasn’t much that showed he was even living in it besides the furniture to show as evidence. You didn’t seem to mind as you took it in, smile gracing your features when he gestured towards the couch.

“Ye wan’ a drink, lass?” Johnny asked you, and when you saw him standing in the kitchen, he helped up a bottle of alcohol and a bottle of juice. He was offering you a choice of either, but you didn’t see the harm in drinking a bit and letting loose.

“Why not?” You shrugged, pointing to the left hand that held the liquor. He beamed at you, satisfied by your answer and promptly began to pour you and him a drink.

“So yer boyfriend jus’ up and left ye for the night?” Johnny asked as he sat next to you on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

He watched as you eagerly took a sip of the liquor, unable to contain the amusement when your nose wrinkled up as you swallowed it down.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, lips pouting a bit in the form of a frown. He tried not to stare. “Said he needed a night off. And he deserves it, y’know?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, slowly taking a gulp from his own glass before placing it back down. He definitely didn’t think your boyfriend deserved a night to himself, nor that he worked hard in the slightest.

Hell, Johnny could hear the two of you have sex on occasional nights through the shared walls, and that certainly didn’t sound like your boyfriend was working hard. If anything, it was pitiful and sad.

“Deserves it,” he hummed, and you whipped your head to look at him, causing him to snicker into his glass as he took another sip.

You looked conflicted, taking your bottom lip between your teeth again. It puffed up, causing it to turn a bright pink, and he willed himself to keep his gaze on your eyes rather than your mouth.

“He… works hard,” you defended.

“We all do,” Johnny retorted.

“Everybody deserves a night out.”

“Have ye had a night out then?”

Silence.

Johnny might’ve been pushing it too hard. After all, he knew more than you were aware of. He was sure you had no idea how thin the walls were and that he was practically a third person in your relationship issues.

“Consider this yer night out,” Johnny claimed with a warm smile, and it seemed to work because you smiled back, downing the rest of your drink.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Johnny. I know it’s late. You’re sure I’m not bothering you?”

Oh, you could never bother Johnny. He was practically head over heels just from seeing you for the first time and hearing your voice. Love at first sight, he thought, he was completely enamored with you.

“No’ a bother, dove. We’re neighbors. It’d be smart to be friends, aye?”

“Friends?” Your tone was excited and he wanted so badly to be more than that. “I’d love to be friends! Officially, now that we’re technically drinking together, right?”

You gave a playful nudge to his shoulders with yours and he felt his entire being soften with delight. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling into little crescents as he nodded in agreement.

Friends he could do. Being friends meant he would have more opportunity to try and shield you from harm, the harm being your boyfriend, and even if it took patience, he’d wait for it.

The two of you found yourselves in a flurry of conversation, the bottle of liquor dwindling down until there was nothing left. Time seemed to slip away between you, and when the clock hit 3:00 AM, a series of bangs came battering at Johnny’s door.

They were loud and angry, relentless and never ending until Johnny forced himself off of the couch to swing it open.

Your boyfriend’s face came into view and Johnny wished he could rearrange his teeth in that ugly scowl of his.

“Is she here? I heard her voice,” he demanded, and your head peeked out from behind Johnny. Guilt and shame shined in your irises, and it was as if all of the joy you felt when spending time in your newfound friendship with your neighbor had vanished into nothing.

When your boyfriend saw the sight of you, he put on a sickeningly sweet smile. If he was trying to play off his anger until he got back into your apartment, he was doing a poor job of doing so. Or it was because Johnny already knew about his true colors.

“I’m home. Let’s get you to bed, yeah? It’s late,” your boyfriend cooed, and Johnny had to stop himself from sneering at the venom that dripped beneath his tone.

You nodded silently, shuffling by Johnny and out of the threshold. Johnny and your boyfriend watched as you entered your own apartment, disappearing inside and leaving the door open.

Johnny knew what was going to come, and as much as he wanted to stop it from happening, he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Thanks for, ah, taking care of her while I was out. Let’s not make it a habit,” your boyfriend practically spat, and Johnny gave him an unphased smile.

“Only if ye stop makin’ it a habit to hit ‘er every chance ye get,” Johnny replied back in the same tone, keeping his smile on his face. It was a threat, a warning, and Johnny wasn’t ashamed to make it clear. “I see another bruise on ‘er body, I’ll fuckin’ kill ye.”

Your boyfriend must not have had many people retort back to him. His face morphed into a stunned one before flashing in anger and annoyance, and when he went to snap back, Johnny shut the door in his face before he had a chance to.

He made sure to stay up the rest of the night, eyes staring at the ceiling from where he laid in bed. He kept his ears locked in to the shared wall, listening in for a single sound of fists connecting with bone or a broken wail out of your lips.

When he heard nothing, he knew he’d gotten through for now.

You’d visit his apartment when your boyfriend wasn’t around. You’d come to enjoy his company, and even went as far as going against your boyfriend’s wishes of never seeing Johnny again. You told him it was because he was your only friend, and he’d accept you with open arms every time you came knocking.

The back and forth went on for months. Johnny was even more smitten than before, and his patience for claiming you as his own was slowly slipping.

He hated seeing you sad when you’d come on nights after a bad argument. He hated seeing the tears flowing down your cheeks, smothering your delicate skin with dewy shine, reddening your pretty eyes and glossing them over with heartache.

The heartache you felt would transfer on to Johnny.

He didn’t understand why your boyfriend didn’t treat you like the lovely canvas you were. Didn’t cover you with love and affection, instead covering you with black and blue. He tainted you with colors that didn’t clash with the beauty of your skin, when you deserved to be painted with skies of pink.

Johnny knew you deserved better.

When you came on a particular night, face swollen with tears of sadness and blood, he nearly saw red. Such a delicate thing to be so cruelly used as a personal stress reliever should never have happened, and Johnny was at his wits end.

“Leave ‘im,” Johnny ordered when he brought you inside of his apartment. He stood in front of you in the vacancy of his bathroom, a warm washcloth nursing your wounds with tender hands, grimacing every time you winced from pain.

“I can’t,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Bullshit. Leave ‘im. A pretty bird like ye doesn’t deserve this.” When you said nothing and stared down at your hands in your lap, he pushed further. “So many men out there wouldn’t lay a finger on ye. They’d never hurt ye. They’d never hit ye. I’d never do that.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he allowed it, locking your gazes with one another as a heavy silence filled the room. Your eyes remained filled with unshed tears, glistening in the dim lighting of his bathroom. To you, you looked like broken mess. To him, you looked like you held the entire night sky in your eyes.

Everything happened so quickly, Johnny’s mind nearly didn’t comprehend it. One second, you were staring, the next, your lips had crashed into his without a second thought.

Even with a split lip that tasted faintly of metallic blood, he thought you tasted divine. It was as if sweetness exuded from all parts of you, painting him with a sugary high that he could never get enough of.

One hand strayed to your hair while the other rested along the bathroom counter where your hips rested. Your own hands fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, as if scared he’d fade away.

He planned on going nowhere. This was all he ever wanted, from the moment he heard you for the first time as his neighbor from behind the walls of your apartments.

When he first heard you belting out a song he didn’t know the name of in the security of your own place, presumably when your boyfriend wasn’t around to quiet you down.

When he ran into you at the mailboxes and finally learned your name. When he heard your speaking voice that wasn’t filled with anguish, trembling with shaky tears.

Johnny pressed into you further, consuming every part of the kiss with an eager passion. When he heard the faintest whimper melt from your mouth into his own mouth, he would’ve killed the entire world to hear it again.

“Dinnae be quiet,” he breathed into your lips, smile curling against them. “No need for tha’. Can be as loud as ye want here.”

Your eyes blinked prettily at him from where your foreheads connected. His thumb grazed along your cheek in such a tender manner, it pained your heart in the best way.

Your boyfriend never touched you that way. Never treated you that way. Never loved you that way.

Johnny returned his mouth to yours and you fell back into the clumsy dance of lips and tongue, like a waltz the two of you were learning with one another.

It was intense and fierce, yet gentle and passionate at the same time. You felt dizzy, your mind clouding with nothing but want and desire.

It was wrong of you to do this. Johnny was your friend and neighbor, and you had a boyfriend.

But then you thought back on everything Johnny had been making you realize — a man who loved you would never treat you how your boyfriend treated you. He’d treat you how Johnny was treating you now, soft and caring, pouring his heart and soul into every delicate touch.

On late nights when you stayed up, Johnny was there with the door already unlocked for you. He’d make you laugh, make you smile, he’d heal the inner child you desperately needed to seek. You’d lost her along the way, and Johnny was there to remind her.

“Johnny,” you breathed out, and his smile returned.

“Wha’ is it, dove?”

“I—“ You inhaled sharply, trying to collect your scrambled mind and piece together the words. “I want you. Please.”

Johnny sucked in his own breath, eyes piercing into yours. They flickered along the features of your battered face, and even in this state, he graveled in your beauty.

“I can make tha’ happen.”

Johnny laid you on his bed as if you were the most precious thing to cushion it. His hands roamed your body like mapping out every roll and curve, keeping it noted in his head for future endeavors.

He took his time with you, placing gentle kisses along every bruise, bump, and scar that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend had left embedded in you to remember forever. Johnny didn’t look at them in disgust like you expected, no — he ravished them like fine china, careful and precise, spending as much time needed to ensure each and every one was cherished.

His hands were eager yet patient as he stripped you of your clothes, making sure to take his off in the process so you didn’t feel uncomfortably exposed.

He only thought of your best interests, and it made you feel desired.

“Look at ye,” he breathed, hands slowly gliding down the plains of your stomach and to your thighs. He carefully parted them, eyes dropping down to the glisten of your cunt, taking it in. He sucked in a breath, thumbs stroking along your knees.

Your hands lifted to cover your face, embarrassment filling you to the core. He tsked, lifting a hand to grasp your arm and pull it from your face. He pinned it lightly to the side of your head, peering down at you.

“None of tha’,” he pleaded. “Wanna see ye, bonnie.”

You nodded your head, silently agreeing with him. He took his hand off your arm, flashing you a pleased smile.

He returned to caressing, cascading rough hands down your sides, to your hips, to your thighs, until they traveled back up. The touch of his fingers was light against your core, testing the waters.

“Oh,” you gasped, air getting caught in your lungs. He smiled again, all teeth and all crinkly eyes, before delving his venture further.

His index found your clit and he began a slow and antagonizing pace, circling and stroking, eyes focused on your face to piece together your reaction.

Your eyes were fluttering at the ceiling, breasts rising and falling with every staggered breath.

It was a sight to see. Johnny felt his chest swell with pride that finally, after pining after you for months, feelings hidden away in the dark, he was the one making you this way.

His finger slipped down, seeking the wetness that seeped shamelessly. He scooped his finger in the mess, lifting it to his mouth to wrap his lips around it.

You watched, eyes dazed and hazy. You shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight, but it burned a fire in you.

His smile turned into a bashful grin when he popped his finger out of his mouth, and before you had a chance to breathe, he slipped that same finger inside, prodding you open.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You nodded dumbly. He huffed out a laugh, curling his finger in a way that had you squirming. “Look bonnie like this. Ye my pretty girl, aye?”

You nodded again, hands fisting his bedsheets beneath you.

“Won’t ever hurt ye,” he continued, and before you knew it, his second finger joined in. “Won’t ever make ye cry. Too pretty to cry, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny,” you pleaded. He pumped his fingers slowly at first, but the sound of his name on your lips urged him to increase the pace.

It was heaven hearing it come from you, and combined with your sweet moans? He was hearing church bells in his mind.

You squirmed beneath him, panting and writhing like the pretty thing you were. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

Johnny dove his head down, fingers still buried to the knuckle. His tongue poked out to press flat against your clit, lathing you in bliss and making you see stars.

Your boyfriend never made you feel this way. You were on a cloud, floating peacefully in the skies above.

He could never pull the desperate moans out of you, he could never make your thighs tremble like you’d just run a marathon around the world.

Johnny’s mohawk was soft on your fingertips when you grasped them. You held back, only gripping softly.

“Pretty girl, ye can grip harder than tha’,” he assured when he came up for air. You stared down at him with wet eyes, filled with hazy pleasure. He wouldn’t return to using his mouth until you followed his order, so you did, grabbing a fistful of hair and lightly pushing him against your cunt.

He groaned in approval, burying his face between your legs and eagering fucking his fingers in you.

The stimulation caused your back to arch, a moan bursting out of you. The sound surprised you. You’d never heard yourself sound so wrecked, especially before the main event.

This was how sex was supposed to feel. Cherished, adored, and downright sinful.

The knot in your stomach seemed to tighten, and your thighs clumsily squirmed around, encasing his head between them. You panted breathlessly, the sounds filling the room with an unforgivable act of immorality.

“Johnny, Johnny, I—“ Your words were cut off by your own broken sob, and he feasted harder, urging you to your breaking point more and more.

It was too much. You wouldn’t be able to hold back, nor did you want to. This feeling was too blissful to pull away from, so you allowed yourself the moment of selfishness.

When it hit you, your entire body convulsed. Your stomach tightened and clenched, thighs gripping tight around Johnny’s head, quivering with every movement.

“Tha’s it, dove. Good girl,” he praised. You keened, eyes squeezing shut as your climax came over you.

His fingers slowed their pace but didn’t dare leave your body as he pulled you through the last drops of your orgasm. When he felt you had enough, he swiftly pulled them out, staring up at you with eyes pouring with admiration.

“Look at ye,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke over your cheek. You hadn’t realized they were wet with tears until he stroked them away with a thumb. “Gorgeous girl. Tha’ okay?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, voice broken.

You regained your breath, chest no longer heaving like a panting dog, and you came out of your clouded haze.

“Let me make ye feel even better, aye? Can fill ye up, wanna feel ye, please, bonnie—“

You nodded before even making up your mind, but really, you didn’t need to. It was already made up the moment he let you into his home and offered friendship.

Johnny climbed over you, careful not to crush you. He hovered, face aligned with yours and a smile on his face. You stared at him in awe.

That smile of his could light up the whole world if he allowed it. It lit up yours, after all.

His hand dove between your bodies, and when you felt the head of him slowly press to your entrance, you sucked in a breath.

He took his time, slowly easing into you, filling you and leaving you with greedily wanting more and more.

“Oh god,” you groaned, and he followed after. His eyes were squeezed shut as you took him in fully, and when he bottomed out, he forced them open to gaze down at you.

“Look at me the ‘ole time, aye? Wanna see ye,” he said, and who were you to deny it?

Johnny began to move and you had to force your eyes open every time they threatened to flutter closed. He filled you from an emptiness you weren’t aware you had until now, and you never wanted it to leave.

Just like with his fingers, he started off slow. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the more he stared at the pleasured, fucked-out look on your face, his resolve broke and he found himself losing control.

One particularly hard thrust had you gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on his biceps, and that was all he needed to snap.

Hips thrust erratically into you, plunging deeper and deeper every single hit. The noises were nothing but dirty, a mix of sinful slaps and shaky moans filling the atmosphere.

“Takin’ me so good, bonnie,” he sighed, hand cradling your cheek as he continued his relentless torture. “Made for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, fingernails dipping into his skin and marking him with crescent shaped indents. “All for you, Johnny, nobody else.”

“Tha’s right, sweet girl.” His head tilted down to graze his lips along your jaw, peppering loving kisses up to your ear. “Dinnae need tha’ bloke of yours anymore. ‘M gonna take care of ye.”

That sounded divine. You wanted all of that and more.

“Please,” you begged, though unsure what for.

Johnny smiled against your skin before pulling himself back up. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently pressing them up so your knees were level with your chest.

His eyes never strayed from your face, not even when he went back to giving you everything he had in the way he fucked you.

He was proudly marking his territory, taking everything you had while giving you everything in return.

You couldn’t compress the moans that escaped you with every brutal thrust in your cervix. He was hitting every damn spot in you, as if he had your entire body already mapped out.

“Gonna take ye away from ‘im,” he grunted, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs where they pressed against your chest. “Never gonna let another man hurt ye again.”

You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks in rivers. Your body was so overwhelmed with the pleasure he brought you, but god, you wanted all of it. You were going to make sure you took it all.

Johnny continued his string of praises as he glided in and out of you, your cunt molding around him like the perfect fit. He was fast and hard with his actions, yet his words were sweet and tender, only ever showering you with things you needed to hear.

“Ye gonna give me another one, pretty girl?” he asked, his own voice nearly failing on him from his own pleasure.

You nodded quickly, eyes locked on to his. He grinned in approval, cocking his head to the side.

“C’mon, bonnie. Ken ye can do it f’me.”

Those words of encouragement were enough to have you clenching around him, body succumbing to your second orgasm. You felt absolutely divine, head completely spacing out and relieving itself of any worries or stress.

“There ye go,” he cooed, unstopping of his thrusts. He chased his own release, sweat beading along his forehead and dripping down his temple. “Such a good girl, bonnie.”

You whimpered, body spent and exhausted. You didn’t stop that from allowing him to seek out his pleasure. The thought of him filling you, of fully claiming you as his stirred a wild thought in your mind, and you needed it.

“Please, Johnny,” you whined, and he let out a breathless chuckle. It vibrated you to the core.

“Dinnae worry, dove, I’ll give ye what ye want.”

It didn’t take him long to find himself. His movements became less precise and more sloppy, hands slipping from your thighs when his grip became unfocused.

Warmth filled you from the inside and you reveled in its comfort, sighing shakily. He pumped himself in you a few more times, making sure to get out every drop, before stopping to catch his breath.

Johnny looked gorgeous like this. Glistening in sweat, lips parted to suck in air, cheeks flushed pink from the warmth that took over the room.

You couldn’t stop your hand from lifting off of his arm to gently caress his cheek. When he felt your touch, he smiled, leaning into it.

Your heart nearly burst in fondness.

Johnny cleaned you up and let you change into his clothes, which you happily put on.

The two of you laid in the comfort of his bed, his arm tucking you into his side, your eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant everythin’ I said, dove. ‘M gonna take ye away from ‘im, ye won’t ever have to deal with ‘im again,” Johnny said softly.

The thought of leaving your boyfriend was scary, but the thought of leaving behind Johnny after this was scarier. You knew what the obvious choice was.

You had to trust him. And trust him you did.

“Okay,” you whispered in return, and when he turned his head to smile down at you, you’d happily go along this journey into the unknown with him.

finally got around to writing smut like i’ve been planning on and what better choice than mr mactavish himself 🙏🏻 hes so yummy i wanna eat him

[moon7jay]

OKAY (p.sh)

Warnings : smut, rough sex, degradation, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Dedicated to •┈┈⛧ @hoondrop

Sunghoon didn't think of it much when you let him into your apartment without a single word when usually you'd be huffing and puffing because he showed up unannounced. He didn't think much of it when you slipped off your dress silently and laid on the bed, spread open, waiting for him to use you however he wanted.

He attributed it to you being really needy. Sunghoon was too lost in his own lust to notice how you cried out his name when he slipped himself home inside of your wet heat in one painful thrust. Your nails dug into his back and your hazy eyes fell on his expressions of bliss, hot pants falling from his mouth, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on your heaving chest. He wasn't even looking at your face and an acute pain started to bloom inside your chest.

"Fuck-oh god-never been inside a pussy so fucking good ,you were just made to be fucked" He grunted, pelting his hips harshly into you. His touches were rough, palms groping around your body in a desperate abandon, leaving bruises in their wake. Usually you loved it, your body welcomed the familiar sting and the pleasure that came along with it, but the bruises from your inside were looming on the surface today, making you feel like an open, gaping wound.

He buried his face inside the crook of your neck, folding your body in half, his thrusts merciless as always. "fucking slut, can't stop coming back to this tight little cunt, you should get paid for it" he panted in your ear. His words were hitting you as hard as his thrusts were, the hollowness in your chest intensifying by the second. Soft sobs started leaving your lips before you could stop them.

"Yeah ? Does it hurt?" He asked coming up to rest his forehead against yours, looking you dead in the eye for the first time since he came over. His eyes were dark in lust, hot breaths of exertion falling on your lips while his hips kept pounding you into the sheets. You nodded, your vision becoming blurry as you were unable to control the onslaught of tears that was wracking your body. "You can take it, just keep letting me use this hot little body till I'm fucking satisfied" His movements became rapid, you could tell that he was close. Your walls were breaking down with each snap of his hips, pain beginning to constrict your throat. Your breaths were becoming shorter, sobs becoming ugly, the physical pain transcending into emotional one.

You hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and raw, especially in front of someone who didn't give two fucks about you. Maybe it was the stupid feelings you had started harbouring for the boy above you that were begging him to notice your suffering. To see you, look beyond the relief that your body had to offer and peek behind the mask which was your face. To hold your aching body till it didn't feel like something was clawing it's way out of your chest, till you could voice out your grief and give this empty feeling a name.

Sunghoon's mind was beginning to get clouded over by the feelings of ecstasy, his hips stuttering, feeling his high approaching closer. Even though his body was responding to the pleasure you were giving him, something about the way you were looking at him was filling him with unease. He had never seen you crying so much during sex and something inside him was telling him that this was something else. Those weren't the sobs of pleasure that were racking your tiny form underneath him, your wails sounded like cries of actual pain and he wasn't sure what to do. His high faded into the void the more that he focused on your quivering lips and flooded eyes, his hips coming to a halt inside of you. When you didn't stop wailing despite the lack of his assault on your lower body, sunghoon's chest constricted in panic. Did he hurt you? what the fuck was going on?

You were jolted out of your agony by the feeling of two big palms cupping your face.

"Y/n? Hey, hey, calm down" Sunghoon's panic filled voice penetrated through the viel of tears covering your eyes. It took you a while to notice how he wasn't inside of you anymore, the aching between your legs was lost somewhere between your grief stricken cries. You pushed him away and curled into yourself, wrapping your hands around your middle to find some sort of comfort. Rocking your body back and forth to calm your stuttering breaths. This was all you had. For as long as you can remember, this tiny stroke of comfort was all you had to ground yourself to reality. The fact that someone else was witnessing your breakdown was making you feel defenseless. "G-Go please" you sobbed and closed your eyes to drown out your surroundings.

Sunghoon's brain was going into overdrive. Seeing you like this was something he had not thought about even in his worst nightmares and he felt helpless. He didn't want to leave but at the same time he didn't want to push your limits either, so he gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could. There was an intense urge to hold you that was blooming in his chest, but who was he kidding? He couldn't comfort people for shit. Sunghoon didn't do emotions, he didn't do feelings and he sure as fuck didn't care about anyone, so why were you making him feel this way?

As he took one last look at your naked body curled into a fetus position, your cries tearing through his heart, sunghoon did what he did best. He left.

As you stared at the empty screen of your phone with no calls or messages from sunghoon, you could hear the distinct sound of your heart breaking. One would think you would have gotten used to that sound by now. How pathetic.

Did you not know how it was gonna end from the beginning? or when you decided to be vulnerable and scare him away ? Did you really think you meant something to him? That you meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck? How many heart breaks would it take for you to realize that you were just convenient? Convenient and replaceable and so so naive. You wouldn't call yourself naive tho, you were just desperate. Choosing to ignore reality to live in momentary illusions of happiness. You guess this is what becomes of people who come out of broken homes, searching for little specks of love where it doesn't exist, deluding yourself till the glaring reality decides to shove you back to where you came from. Somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with the fact that you couldn't make people love you. You had always lacked that ability, to make someone want you, to make someone stay.

You picked on the scab of wound on your knuckle mindlessly, chuckling to yourself as tears started streaming down your face again. You out of all people should have known better. You had so much love inside of you and no one to give it to. And what was excess love if not grief? Where do you put this agony? How do you get rid of this aching need to be enough for someone else?

He must be with some other girl right now, some girl who didn't ruin his pleasure with random breakdowns and ugly sobs. Someone who wasn't so difficult and unlovable and excruciatingly clingy. you kept scratching till the healed skin was peeling off, making way for warm blood to ooze out. A sigh fell from your quivering lips at the familiar sting, wondering if he stayed when other girls asked him to.

Sunghoon downed his 6th shot of the night and yet, he was wide awake and functioning. He'd been sitting in this godforsaken bar for days but no amount of alcohol could take you out of his head. You were like a constant itch at the back of his mind. What fucked him up the most was the fact that he missed you. Utterly and desperately. And not just your body, he missed YOU. He missed your giggles and he missed your flustered smiles. He missed the way you sassed him when he teased you. He missed watching his big palms engulf your small ones.

The past few days had been enough to bring him to the glaring realization that he needed you. He cared about you. Your wails were still ringing in his ears and your broken voice when you told him to leave was haunting him at nights. His dark circles could attest to that. His hands shook with the desperate need to call you and hear your voice but he was a coward. He left you in your worst moment and the guilt and shame was eating him from the inside. What would he even say to you? You probably hated him now.

His mind drifted off to the conversation you had with him a few weeks ago. He'd been getting ready to leave when your soft, hesitant voice had spoken the words which changed the trajectory of his life. "c-can you stay?" you'd asked and sunghoon had looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. Your tiny figure had been wrapped in your white sheets while you peered up at him nervously, your fingers fiddling with the stray thread on the duvet. "can you stop being fucking clingy?" He'd replied, regretting his words as soon as he'd seen you visibly flinch. Then truth was that he'd been afraid. He was scared then and he was scared now. Scared of how badly he'd wanted to stay.

He downed another shot and hoped it would be enough to give him the liquid courage for what he was about to do.

You didn't know what to expect when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night. You were lounging on your couch in the living room, staring blankly at the romcom playing on your television. Your first thought was to ignore it, the emotional distress of the past few days had taken so much away from you physically that you had little to no strength left in your body.

But whoever was behind that door was persistent. Ringing and ringing till you couldn't help but heave yourself up from the couch in frustration.

You yanked the door open and froze. It took a few seconds for you to process the fact that he was standing in front of you and another few seconds to stop yourself from running into his arms. You swallowed harshly and stepped aside to let him in. His eyes were fixated on you and you were looking anywhere but at him. Not quite ready to face your demons just yet. You weren't surprised to see him at your door to be honest, he couldn't stay without sex for too long.

At least you are useful for something, you thought. You were in the middle of slipping off your top's strap down your shoulder when his voice interrupted you. "What are you doing?" He asked, making you look up at him, staring at him blankly. "Getting undressed" you replied in a solemn monotone like it was the most obvious thing in the world but he shook his head, his gaze intense "why? "

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Your genuinely confused question hit sunghoon like a slap across the face. He knew that he had been treating you like shit but why were you treating yourself like this? It made him want to puke. He shook his head again and willed his heart to calm down "I'm not here to have sex with you"

His words sounded like static to you. Oh. He was here to break things off with you, because of course he was. Did you really think he was going to come back to you for sex after what you had done when he could have any girl he wanted for the night? You really were delusional. You bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling when you felt tears gathering at your waterline. So this was it then? You really had driven another person you loved away from you successfully.

"I-im sorry, j-just don't hate me please" you spoke through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to avoid crying in front of him again. If he couldn't love you, you wanted to make sure he didn't leave hating you. You honestly wouldn't be able to live with yourself if he did.

Sunghoon watched your cowering form inching away from him and he was overcome with an intense urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you close. You looked so scared and small standing there, asking him to not hate you. Silly little girl, he thought. How could he ever hate you?

He rubbed a shaky hand over his face to choose his next words carefully but you interpreted his actions the wrong way. Your throat constricted and you fisted the hem of your top tightly. The feeling of desperation was beginning to overpower your rational thoughts, what were you going to do if he left? Your feet moved before you could stop yourself and your shaky fingers were tugging on his shirt softly. When his dark eyes met yours, you couldn't stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks. "G-give me one chance, I won't ruin it this time" you hiccuped through your sobs. "Y/n- " please sunghoon i-i'll be so good and s- so quiet, just u-use m-your words were cut of by a sobbed gasp escaping your lips when sunghoon pinned you against the wall behind you forcefully, his body pressed firmly against yours. You stared up at him with wide teary eyes and he looked angry, the vein on his forehead throbbing visibly. "Stop that" He spoke sternly through gritted teeth and cupped your face in his palms, resting his forehead against yours. "Stop treating yourself like a fucking object y/n, this isn't you" His lips captured yours before you could react and the softness of the kiss caught you off gaurd. You didn't remember the last time you had been kissed with so much tenderness and you couldn't help but sob into his mouth, your hands fisting his shirt desperately. Sunghoon didn't stop kissing you. More like, he couldn't stop kissing you. Hoping that he could convey with his kiss, all the words that he couldn't say. His hold on your face was soft and you couldn't help but press yourself closer to his body, seeking warmth, looking for comfort. He pulled away briefly, his forehead still pressed against yours and he stared right into your soul. His thumbs reached up to wipe your tears and you hiccuped through your sniffles. "would you believe me if I said that I'm here to stay baby?" He asked softly. The sweet nickname was something he'd only called you in throes of passion sometimes, so the fact that he was consciously speaking to you with so much affection made your heart hurt. Hope fluttered like butterflies in your stomach and you searched his face. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get lost in his affection even if he was lying, so exhausted from your emotional turmoil. Your eyes flooded with tears and you sobbed a pathetic "no" while you shook your head. Sunghoon closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against yours, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "will you give me a chance to prove it to you?" He asked, his hot breath warming up your mouth. You bit your lower lip and buried your face into his chest, unable to stop yourself from crying your heart out. This felt like a fever dream and you wanted to stay in it a little longer. You wanted to feel his arms around you, holding you closer in a way only you had ever done to yourself. He wrapped your body in his embrace and sighed in relief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd gone so long without the feeling of you in his arms. "please baby, you're like air to me and i know that i have hurt you and i won't ask you to forgive me but these past few days have been hell and i don't think I can survive something like that again" He whispered his truth and it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest.

He hated that he was always so afraid of his own feelings, hated that you were turning him into this emotional person that he was not. His words made you tighten your hold around his shoulders and you peeked up slightly to stare into his eyes. His eyes that were staring at you with so much adoration that you couldn't help the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He pecked your nose "let me inside your heart baby, I want to know what hurts you and makes you bleed, I want to swallow your pain if it's the last thing I do"

Your breathing had evened out from hearing him speak and you were suddenly coming to the realisation that he was asking you to give him a chance at loving you. Sunghoon wanted to love you. Your heart was beating rapidly across your chest at the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated and yet at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but question. Were you ready to let him in like that? would you be able to take it if he left you stranded again? You didn't know. But what you did know was that you were tired of running away.

"Okay" you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it, in a way it did. "Okay" He whispered back into your mouth and swallowed your whines, pressing you closer to himself, tasting you like he'd never given himself the liberty to.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him and so many feelings he wanted to express. But for now, okay was enough.

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Depressed Reader X Yandere

Nsfw ; manipulation ; yandere ; female reader

Yuta Okkotsu is not a normal man — he knows this better than anyone. Because what kind of man stalks the object of his affections 24/7, showers them with gifts just to be rejected every time, contemplates kidnapping them, and waits and waits and waits in hopes that one day, they’ll change their minds and love him back? 

Call him a simp, but his love for you is heavy, suffocatingly so. And when it comes to words, he can’t even begin to describe what he feels for you. He loves you. He wants you. He needs you. He’s absolutely obsessed. 

You don’t love him, but he knows he can change that now. Because tonight, you finally sought him out. One text sent him driving to your neighborhood at 2 AM at ungodly speeds. It was three words. “I need you”. 

Finally. Months of waiting, yearning, pining, going insane, have finally come to fruition. 

He stands at your apartment doorway nervously, wringing his hands while he waits for you to open the door. A nervous habit he never grew out of. When the door slowly creaks open, he quickly smooths his shirt and tries to hold back his excitement. 

Your eyes are red and puffy from crying, he could tell, but you look gorgeous nonetheless. You’re in nothing but a crop top and some shorts - a look he decides is absolutely ravishing, and it takes everything within him to not jump you right then and there. 

“Oh angel, what’s wrong?” 

Yuta immediately holds you tightly in his arms, unabashedly breathing in your scent and relishing the closeness of your bodies together.

You cling onto him like he’ll disappear, and a swell of contentedness blooms in his chest. You’re too adorable. 

He shuts the door behind him and ushers you into the couch in the living room, as if he’d been there before. 

He has, but not when you were present.

You eventually calm down enough to talk. 

“I just, I feel so fucking empty, Yuta. I hate myself. I feel ugly. I’m lonely. There’s like a big whole in my chest that won’t go away.”

Oh, you poor thing. He asks you if you’ve taken your meds lately, and you give a tiny nod, face pressed into his soft, white sweater. 

You’ve struggled with depression for the longest time, this he knows. He doesn’t quite understand what had made it worse lately, but that was okay. He’ll make it all better soon.

“I’m sorry for crying and calling you over. I just feel so weak right now, I—“

“Hey,” He lowers his head to meet you at eye level, hands gently caressing both of yours, “You are not weak—You’re the strongest person I know. It’s okay to not be okay, got that?”

You only sniffle in return.

“Is there anything I can do for you, angel?”

It’s quiet for a minute, but you eventually open your mouth to say pathetically, “Make me feel better. Help me make all this go away.”

Finally. You’ll let him take care of you. There’s no going back now. 

He could protect you. Maybe not fix you, but he’ll do whatever he can to help. 

“Sweet thing, of course. I’ll give you whatever you want…c’mere, I’ll take care of  everything, okay?” He wipes the tears from your eyes, placing a kiss atop your head. 

“I know how to get rid of that hollow feeling in your chest.” He smiles sweetly, but his next words possess a threatening undertone to them. His eyes filled with love, he proposes, 

“We just fill your body up with something else.”

——————————————————————

“Too big,” You mewl pathetically.

The two of you are in your bed, clothes strewn across the bedroom floor. You look so beautiful underneath him, Yuta thinks. He stares at you with adoration as you take in what he has to offer. 

Your eyes are teary, face flushed, with your body wriggling under him. You try to move from him, to escape the intense stimulation you feel, but the young man holds onto your hips tightly, his member sheathed all the way inside you. 

“Shhhhh, you’re okay baby. Just relax,” His sickeningly sweet voice coaxes you to give under his hold. “See? You’re doing so good right now.” 

Yuta is a gentle lover. He took his time undressing you, and he takes his time fucking you. Slowly, he pumps in and out of you, letting you feel every inch of his cock enter and leave your pretty pussy.

It feels good, you think. So fucking good. For the first time in a long time, you feel full. 

Through your tears, Yuta looks like an angel. 

His delicate, pale skin seems to glow with sweat in the night, and for a second you wonder if he’s a being sent from heaven to turn your life around. A pang of guilt hits your chest when you think about all the times you’ve rejected his advances. Was this okay? Deep down you knew that once this was over, there was no going back. 

“It’s okay,” He hums when he sees another tear fall from your eye, “You’re okay.” He leans down to smother you with kisses, hands having left your hips in favor of playing with your breasts instead. 

“Oh, sweetheart. You feel so good.” He coos. 

You’re so soft and pliant under his hands, just like he’s always thought you’d be. It takes everything in him not to come inside you yet. Your soft moans aren’t helping, the seductive sounds turning him on so much that he wishes he had your room bugged with a recording device so he could save them for later. 

He can tell you’re close when your legs start shaking, and he sings you praises as he coaxes you into an orgasm that sends you to the moon. 

“There you are,” He speaks softly into your ear, “Doing so good for me. It’s okay now, just cum.” 

He’s not long after you, pulling out to pump thick ropes of white onto your stomach.

You’re all tuckered out afterwards, and he finds it endearing when he comes back from the bathroom with a clean towel to wipe you down, only to see you out for the night. 

He loves you so much. And whether you’re ready for it or not, he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 

(Sorry if this was too short guys, I haven’t been doing the greatest creatively and all but gave up on this fic until I saw the latest JJK chapters. Love you all! )

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

141 and König crying in front of the reader for the first time? Can be angsty, can be sweet. Just how would that look like? Short lil blurbs would be MUCHOOO apriciated! ☺️

Hey! I can do this. I did a little mix of both. Hope this is what you were looking for😊🩷

141 + König Crying For The First Time In Front Of Reader

Warnings: crying, swearing, slightly angst, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

You and Simon were taking a bath together, enjoying each other's company after a long week. You were facing him, legs planted firmly around his waist as you ran a bar of soap along his body.

Your eyes followed the bar as you began to observe the various scars that littered his torso. You'd seen them in passing, but your eyes never lingered on them like they were now.

Simon's breath hitched slightly as the feeling of the bar was soon replaced by your fingers, tracing over one of the larger scars that marred his skin.

Your fingers traced thoughtfully any scar within reach, and Simon watched how you admired each of them. Your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth as you traced a particularly large one.

"There is nothing ugly about you. You're so beautiful, Simon." You murmured, your eyes still transfixed on his scars, your fingers continuing to dance on his abdomen.

"You tryin' to memorize them?" He teased, his hands falling to rest on your arms gently.

"I want to know everything about you. Down to the last scar." You spoke, your eyes not lifting from his skin.

"They are the ugliest part of me."

Simon's world came crashing to a halt the moment those words left your mouth. Beautiful? You thought he was beautiful? Simon had been called a multitude of things, but beautiful? Never.

When you finally lifted your eyes back up to him, you were surprised to find a few stray tears rolling down Simon's cheeks. 

"Simon? Are you alright?" You asked, your voice dripping with concern. You'd never, not once, throughout your entire relationship seen the man cry and it broke your heart. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Simon said nothing, only pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Before you, he'd never had anyone touch him like you were just now. The gentleness of not only your voice but of your touch had Simon's cold heart thawing rapidly. You made him feel unequivocally safe, safe from the years of torment that followed him, and loved beyond a shadow of doubt.

"You make me feel like I'm worth loving." His voice came barely above a whisper next to your ear as he continued to hold you.

"That's because you are, Simon. More than you'll ever know."

König-

König awoke with a start, his heart stammering out of his chest. He looked over to you, in hopes to find some solace, but it did little to ease his racing mind.

You awoke moments later to the sounds of slight sniffles and heavy breaths from next to you.

"Kö? Honey, are you okay?" You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up.

"You were…you were gone…and there was nothing I could do." He breathed out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure. He was sitting upright, and his grip was iron tight on the sheets in front of him.

Panic attacks weren't an uncommon occurrence for König, but this seemed to be taking a heavier toll on him than normal. 

"König, baby, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You asked as you gently cupped his cheek, turning it so he was facing you.

Your heart shattered as you took in his tear stained cheeks, something you'd never witnessed on him before. "Kö, talk to me."

"It felt so real, Maus. You were..you were dead. Right in front of me. And I couldn't save you." His body racked slightly with silent sobs as he threw his head into his hands. "They killed you. You were dead."

"Honey, I'm right here. Come here." You spoke, pulling your large husband into your arms. He laid his head against your chest, and you began to thread your feelings through his light brown locks, soothing him gently. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here."

You could feel Königs breathing begin to go back to normal, but he continued to cling into you as if you'd dissapear if he let go.

"Don't ever leave me, Maus." He spoke, his voice shaking slightly. "I can't live without you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kö. I'm yours." You continued to massage his head soothingly before feeling his chest rise and fall deeply, signaling he fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning to find that he was still tucked into your chest, your arms still firmly wrapped around him. He decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to sleep in, just a little longer.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"You don't have to go on this mission, Kyle. Even John said that it's optional. Our anniversary is next week. Does that mean nothing to you?" You felt tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as you watched your husband pace the kitchen.

"Y/N, you're not listening to me. It's not like I have a choice. It will make me look bad if I say no." Kyle exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"We always have choices, Kyle." Your voice was eerily calm, and it scared the shit out of him. "It's obvious I'm not yours."

"Babe, please don't make this out to be something it is not. You always do this. My job is important to me."

"And I'm not?" You asked, your voice shaking. "I..I can't do this anymore."

"What?" His heart dropped into his stomach at your words as he made his way toward you. "Don't say that."

"I'm going to go out for a bit. Clear my head." You gently pushed him away as you made to grab your car keys.

"Y/N, wait we need to talk about this." He rushed toward you, grabbing your wrist gently. "Please."

"There's nothing to say that hasn't been already said. I just need some air." You pulled your wrist away from him, and left the house.

~

You came home a few hours later, after some much needed alone time to parse through your thoughts.

"Kyle?" You asked, walking through the front door. "I'm home."

You made your way into the living room and found Kyle on the couch, his face stained red with tear marks.

"I…I thought you left me." He spoke, aggressively wiping away at the remaining tears. "I didn't know if you'd come back."

"Oh Kyle, I wouldn't have left you, not like that." You said, sitting next to him on the couch. "I just needed some air before I said something I'd regret. I just don't want to fight anymore."

"I don't, either. And I really, really don't want to lose you Y/N. I can not imagine my life without you." He grabbed your hands gently, holding them in his as he spoke. "I'll call of the mission. I was so wrapped up in impressing Price I didn't give a second thought to our anniversary, I'm so sorry."

"I know your job is important, but sometimes it feels like it's all that matters to you." You said, your eyes flickering down to your joined hands.

"That's not true at all, and I'm so sorry you feel that way. I'm going to do everything in my power to prove otherwise. I love you so much."

You gave him a warm smile before engulfing him in a tight embrace. "I love you too, Kyle."

John Price- 

John's heart was leaping out of his chest. He'd just gotten a call from Simon while he was driving home after a mission, letting him know the base had received a ransom letter, saying that they had you in their custody.

John had never driven so fast in his life, his hands white knuckling the steering wheel as he drove well over the speed limit to get to your shared home.

~

"Y/N?" John called out, barging through the front door. His heart dropped when he heard no immediate answer. "Y/N, where are you?!"

He sprinted across the entire home, frantically looking for you, to no avail. He felt tears begin to pool at his eyes as he dropped to his knees on the floor. He'd never be able to live with himself if you'd gotten hurt because of him. You were his everything.

It was a few moments later when he heard the front door opening, and the sound of rustling bags.

"John! Baby, I didn't know you were coming home early. I would've been here!" You called out, walking through the front door, your hands filled with grocery bags. "I was just out doing some grocery shopping."

John felt the immense weight on his shoulders immediately vanish upon hearing your sweet voice and quickly turned to validate that you were, in fact, here, right in front of him. 

"Sweetheart?" You saw a few tears fall down his cheeks as he huffed out a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. 

Your heart shattered as your eyes fell on his face. You'd never seen him cry before and didn't know what to do as tears continued to pour down his cheeks. "John, honey, are you okay?"

He stood and ran toward you, wrapping you in the tightest hug he could, his mind still not comprehending that you were there, that you were safe. "I thought they had you."

"Who? I'm safe, John. I'm here." You spoke, wrapping your arms around your fiancees' shoulders. "I'm okay."

"I was told that a group of mercenaries took you for ransom. I thought you were gone." John stood like that for some time, his firm grip not easing up in the slightest. "I'd do anything for you, you know what right?"

"I know. And I would do anything for you." You said, pulling away slightly to wipe at his wet cheeks.

"Let's go away this weekend. You and me." He set you down, watching your brows furrow at his words.

"John, I'm okay, we don't have-"

"I want to. I want to get away from the world, from this place. Just be you and I. Let me have that. Let me at least have a few days where I know you're safe." He pressed a kiss to your temple before smiling down at you. "Please."

"A weekend away with you doesn't sound so bad." You giggled, laying your head back down onto his chest.

"Damn right, it doesn't."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Quit jittering MacTavish, you're even making me nervous." Simon teased, shoving the groom playfully.

"Away an bile yer heid. What if they changed their mind?" Johnny couldn't control the anxiety he was having. He'd heard of wedding day jitters, but swore he wouldn't have them. How wrong he was.

"They love you, Johnny. I know they'll be here." Simon patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't know what git in their right mind would marry you, but what do I know."

Johnny's retort died in his throat as the music began, signaling your arrival. He clasped his shaking hands together in front of him, his eyes making their way to the aisle.

Johnny felt his breath hitch in his throat as you made your appearance, you looking as beautiful and radiant as ever, making your way down the aisle toward him. 

Unable to control his array of emotions, he felt tears begin to pool in his eyes as he kept his eyes locked on you. You'd never looked more beautiful than you had in that moment, and the fact that you were about to commit yourself to him and him alone for the rest of your life had Johnny nearly in a fit of tears.

Your smile was lighting up the entire room, and he was unable to keep his eyes off of you. The whole moment felt surreal to him, and he couldn't possibly think of a moment where he'd been happier than he was right now. The tears continued to stream down his face as you made your way down the final bit of the aisle to him.

When you finally made your way to him, the person who walked you down the aisle gave your hand to Johnny, and he swore he felt his heart stop beating at the way you looked at him.

Johnny had been through hell and back in his life, and the one constant beacon of hope, of light, was you. He'd never made any better decision, than the one he made to marry you.

"You look so beautiful, sweeheart." He cooed, a few final stray tears running down his cheeks. "I can't believe we are getting married."

"No cold feet?" You teased, your smile still melting his heart.

"Never."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbit Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

I just love fluff ok and, say it with me, I did this for LoTR 😁 (you can think of the older characters’ as being set when you guys are younger, not during book/film events 😊)

Warnings: conception mentions, some implications of infertility, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms, very long post 😂

Balin

✧ Five years. For five years you had tried. Six you and Balin had been married, happily as anything, but children never came. Your struggles had broken you down, leading you to try all the remedies well-meaning elders and healers alike recommended. Eat more good, strong foods, less of that greasy stuff. Drink this tea, it’s great for women! It’s only a bunch of tiny needles- the pain of birth will be worse anyway. Don’t be so active, let yourself relax for Mahal’s sake, girl! Remedy after remedy, you put your body through it all and put your hands up and prayed. Weeks passed and you had taken ill, attending the healers’ just to get something to ease your nausea, and that was when the questions began. Illness forgotten, you wandered in a grinning daze out of that hall and straight into your husband’s arms. When he chuckled and asked what this was all about, all you could do was snuggle into his chest deeper and whisper “It’s finally happened.”

✧ Such years leant of course to Balin being a bit extra protective of you. You often chastised him, good-naturedly of course, that he hovered so over you, and every time he would simply kiss you and say "That's right".

✧ It brought you both to tears when you began showing, when your condition had persisted long enough to be real, to last beyond the known months of danger. Forehead pressed against yours, your husband held you tightly and warmly for some amount of minutes you did not know, but minded not at all. Balin's words of love and reassurance were as music to your ears.

✧ Hormones confound you some days, pulling you from peace to ruin in mere moments, but Balin is always there with warm arms and wise words, reminding you that whatever you may think, you will never be alone.

✧ The one time during your entire pregnancy that you saw Balin cry was the day you brought home a tiny red coat that looked just like his and showed it to him with pride glowing in your eyes.

✧ He is so calm during all the worst sides of your condition, standing right by you through the good, the bad, and the ugly and dusting and cleaning you off each and every time. "We fought hard for this," he reminds you, "And I'll keep fighting with you every step of the way."

Dwalin

✧ You had wanted children all your life, certainly, and you'd seen Dwalin around them a few times, but what would he say? Your husband was a renowned warrior, hardened in the face of blood and steel and tolerant of no foolishness. But still he went soft as clay when his beloved wife fell into his arms. Thus that night you softened him up but good with all the great food and affection you could muster, so much that you had him remarking what a wonderful home he'd been blessed with. "And would you be willing to share it?" At that, your husband rose from his chair, hands tensing at his sides. "You don't mean-" "I do," you nodded. Without warning, you were swept up into Dwalin's arms, hoisted gently into the air with a giggle. "Just when I thought Mahal couldn't bless me any more! My beautiful wife, with child."

✧ Cue the two of you bickering back and forth like, well, a married couple, about who the child is going to look like. "I'll have 'em look just like you, thanks." "I for one relish in the thought of toting around a miniature Dwalin." "Come now," your husband teases back, running a hand over his shaven, tattooed head, "If they look like you they'll have better hair!"

✧ Dwalin has tiny wooden swords and axes made in time for your little arrivals, ensuring the axes match his to a tee.

✧ He sleeps flush against you now, head leaned against your growing belly and one hand firmly atop it like a lovely little line of defense.

✧ You have him absolutely wrapped around your finger, even more so now. Bat your eyelashes at him and make any request and he melts like butter. You’ll never want long for anything you crave!

✧ Admittedly he knows very little of a woman’s workings, but the moment he hears all your explanations he dubs you as great a warrior as he! “Beautiful as the stars and strong as the mountains to boot! That’s my girl.”

Thorin

✧ He has waited so long for this. So many years of this hanging pressure and yet when he has you by his side, all the feeling of necessity behind trying fades away. You two can simply enjoy life. So when you return to Thorin's side one day, eyes brimming with tears, all you say to him is "It's happened". And with that you see your king, your husband, collapse as if his whole body is sighing, pulling you into him like he needs you to breathe. One hand reaches up to hold the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

✧ Vows every day that he will protect you both, be the father and husband you deserve, taking your hands in his and then leaning down to address both his queen and your child.

✧ Thorin also assures you that despite what any members of the court say, your new addition will be equally loved and equally worthy of the throne whether you welcome a son or a daughter. "All I wish is a healthy child with their mother's heart." "And their father's good looks," you tease in response, pulling your husband in for a kiss.

✧ You begin stealing his clothes, stating that his tunics are so much more comfortable than your dresses with an innocent bat of your eyelashes that has Thorin relenting every single time, heart rent at the way they begin fitting you tighter.

✧ You see a different side of Thorin in this stage of your marriage, one you’ll never complain about, not when he softens so, gazes down upon you with such love as he hovers over you, kissing your lips, your neck, your belly.

✧ There is no denying that you both glow during this time, pride and joy illuminating Thorin’s features right alongside the radiance of your childbearing state. Everyone stops you to say what a beautiful couple you are and you cannot help the flush of heat that rises to your face as Thorin thanks them and guides you away from the crowd, a protective hand on the small of your back

Oin

✧ Predicts it before you even realize because you’re exhibiting all the telltale symptoms; annoyed as you may be by his insistence that you are with child, what do you know? Oin is right. Oin is, unfortunately, also quite smug about this. Once the initial triumph wears off, though, he’s shouting for joy and crushing you with a hug!

✧ The absolute dream husband to have when you're with child, for he has worked taking care of countless dwarrowdams in your condition. He knows what you need. He understands. And most importantly, he does not judge.

✧ In fact, you two get a kick out of poking fun at the other husbands who roll their eyes at their wives' demands or take shots at their cravings because, frankly, that could never be you. "He doesn't know her body needs more iron!" "I bet he moans and groans about grabbing her a pillow, too."

✧ Having married such a well-known dwarrow, you’ll have all manner of strangers approaching you with congratulations that you reluctantly just accept, correctly assuming they’re patients of Oin’s that he’s proudly blabbed to.

✧ He’s always asking you to guess if you’re having a boy or a girl, insisting that “‘tis the mother’s intuition, after all.”

✧ You insist on remaining on your feet as long as possible, and your husband does not protest, knowing that exercise is good for the baby. That doesn’t mean he won’t be right behind you to catch you if you fall or check on your precious little bump, though, of course.

Gloin

✧ Not so subtle in his so-called 'baby fever', your husband has been going on and on about how his child will be his little flame, the apple of his eye, his world. You have no fear, then, sharing the news, in fact you amuse yourself by dropping your state in conversation like the plainest fact. "I'm glad you've got those new blankets, dear, what with the baby coming in winter and all," you told Gloin, taking a sip of your tea. Deafening is the only word you can use to describe the roar of celebration he gives, wonderfully bone-crushing and teeth-rattling your embrace and kiss.

✧ Tackles you to bed almost every night the first week, covering your cheeks and belly alike with kisses.

✧ Spends that very same time period sharing with absolutely any soul who even remotely listens that he’s going to be a father!

✧ Gloin is very insistent upon your care, even taking it upon himself to make your meals by hand. Which, suffice it to say, is a bit disastrous the first few times but he emerges triumphant in the end and succeeds in filling you with all the hearty things your budding dwarrowling needs!

✧ Being married to a dwarf means you have a husband who absolutely adores the extra pounds you put on and has no qualms about showing you in and out of the bedroom! Even just stopping by the market he’ll be wrapped around you.

✧ Encourages the baby every time they kick, shouting out praise of their strength while you tell him to cool it, all those kicks are going to you!

Bifur

✧ A large part of him thought that he would never be able to experience fatherhood. Not since the injury, and that had happened at such a young age. You cut right through that fear, assured Bifur that he would be an amazing father regardless of if he did some things differently. And that he would soon see, for your family would be growing early the next year.

✧ In all honesty, you feel blessed to have a husband who signs, for your baby will likely be able to communicate early! When you tell Bifur this he breaks out into tears, for what an angel you are to see the beauty in him. Every side of him. He promises to do the same.

✧ And make good on that does he! You will never want for love for even on your illest days Bifur is right by your side, his caresses gentle and speaking volumes of adoration.

✧ Absolutely adores jumping into the bath with you! His excuse being he has to help you and may as well rinse his beard off, but you can see how eager he is to run his hands over your hair and see the way your body relaxes at his cleansing touch. He wants nothing more than to feel useful, needed, and you assure him you cannot do this without him.

✧ Again and again, in fact, on the days when he stands behind you, holding up your burden and cheering you with little jokes and flirtation in Khuzdul even as you are overcome with exhaustion.

✧ Proudly tells everyone who will listen that he’s got a little warrior in there whenever the baby kicks!

Bofur

✧ You hadn’t exactly been trying. You hadn’t exactly been not trying, either. The news comes to you through a haze, muffled by the great rush of other thoughts bombarding your mind and sending your heart beating, but at their heart comes the image of Bofur holding a little one and bouncing them upon his knee and your chest flutters and soars. Your visit is completed all in smiles, and upon returning him to your husband’s questioning about the flu you’ve gone in for, you tell him it likely will not go away until the end of the year. “The end of the year? Why ever that long? I’ve never heard of a flu like that, not even-” “‘tisn’t a flu, my darling,” you smirk at him, “it’s a baby.” “A- you’re- we’re gonna have a-” Bofur is all agape, stepping closer and hovering his hands over your middle like he doesn’t want to grip you in a way that breaks you. “That all right?” You ask, half-teasing, for he has recently confided in you his envy of Bombur’s family. “All right? Song of my heart, I could kiss you!” “Well, what’s stopping you?”

✧ If you thought Bofur was affectionate before, well Mahal be with you, for you haven't seen anything yet! He falls even more in love with your body knowing it's carrying his and your child, hands nearly always holding or roaming you. When you're out and about, your husband usually has a hand at the small of your back, supporting the weight you carry as you walk and running soothingly up and down. Kisses all over your belly in private.

✧ This lends to how quick your husband is to reassure you on days you don't feel so friendly with your body, those times when you'd like nothing more than to shatter the looking-glass. "All I see," Bofur tells you one day, a hand on each of your shoulders as you peer together, "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my lucky eyes upon, and she's not got an easy job. If I were her, I'd be proud of myself. Proud of making a comfortable home for our little one. And if I was her husband, why, I'd take her as she is right here and now! Right nice for me I am her husband, eh?"

✧ “Imagine havin’ a little girl.” Lying side by side, you heard Bofur’s wistful tone and felt a small smile creep onto your lips. “I’ll do her hair up in braids and tie them with ribbons. She’ll have all the pretty things she wants, because I have mine right here,” he adds, turning over to caress your belly and pull your lips into his.

✧ Marrying a toymaker comes with distinct perks: your husband crafts the most magnificent little wheeled contraptions and carven animals for your new addition! He spends hours carving and glazing them, and sometimes you catch him having fallen asleep at his workbench when you struggle to stay in dreamland, covering him up with a spare blanket.

✧ You worry because the baby doesn’t seem to move much, but Oin confirms everything seems to be going fine. “Your wee bairn just got this one’s personality, it seems!” He jokes, stabbing a mock-accusatory finger Bofur’s way.

Bombur

✧ A baker's dozen. For as long as you've known him, that's how many wee ones Bombur purported wanting. Thirteen more than most dwarves have, you always tease him, but in reality every time you see your sweet husband with children and hear him dream of a family your heart leaps. That is why the moment you take his hands and tell him it's come true is special, intimate, a quiet draw in and out of breath that has him sobbing joyously and nuzzling into your embrace with so much love your chest bursts from the flight of it.

✧ Sixth senses never seemed real to you until you became pregnant and it was like Bombur knew what you were craving and was making it before you could even say anything!

✧ Cannot keep away from you. Always wants to be kissing you and cupping your cheeks and holding your hands, just so so sweet!

✧ Bombur is so much more good-natured than you, for all the jokes about how you'll be as big as him soon have you swinging, but he just holds you back and laughs alongside them, saying he's looking forward to it with a twinkle in his eye.

✧ Literally baffled if you ever feel bad about your body; his legitimate confusion alone halfway snaps you out of the sad reverie, and all the following words about your beauty and your husband's appreciation of every inch does the rest.

✧ "You know I'll keep you safe, right? Both of you," he tells you one day, a hand resting upon your bump, "I may not be some great warrior, but Mahal help anyone who comes between us."

Dori

✧ From even before you were actually wed you knew that Dori would be an excellent father. Having taken care of his younger brothers from quite an early age, he had knowledge atop a naturally caring personality you fell for. Gentlemanly Dori waited with you, keeping chaste until after your wedding, but once it is official you know your news could come at any time and you accept that. On your one-year anniversary, in fact, your first gift to Dori is the tiniest bracelet of fine amber beads. “Does this mean…?” As soon as he sees you nod, Dori is taking you in his arms, cradling you gently as if you were made of fine porcelain and thrice as precious.

✧ Caring father-to-be. A little too caring. "If those are too heavy for you, I can carry them!" "They're just books, I'll be alright, Dori." "Oh, don't eat that, you got sick last time." "I haven't been sick in a month!" "That's a lot of steps, should I carry you?" "...Actually, sure."

✧ Always sleeps with his arm wrapped around your middle. No exceptions.

✧ Has every manner of tea and remedy you could desire on hand or otherwise purchases it. Same goes for supplies- Dori even found a ring-shaped cushion for you to lay on! He has your back for any ailment and is often there to make or apply your cure himself. After all, he wouldn't trust anyone else to do it!

✧ You love this dwarf with all your heart. He takes it upon himself to find dwarrowdams willing to let him practice changing diapers on their wee bairns and surprises you with this newfound skill when you return home one day!

✧ Dori’s love of the finer things absolutely carries over into his future fatherhood, as he has the loveliest little velvet clothes made and procures the dearest little bejeweled hairbrush. All in all, both of you amass far more than you need because any time you go out it inevitably devolves into you two clasping your joined hands between each other, gushing over all the wee things, and taking them home!

Nori

✧ He never thought he would get married at all, let alone have a family, but as time goes on the desire to continue his lineage and finally settle down takes hold. Then suddenly there he is desperately trying to seduce you into trying for a little one! It doesn't take long, not with his charm, until the day comes when you teasingly tell him that he got his way. Smirking until the realization takes hold of him, his arms are then snaking around your waist to pull you close.

✧ Always talking about how he's going to teach his little one everything he knows. When pressed about it, responds with such things as fighting and picking locks. His defense? "What if 'e gets stuck somewhere, or-"

✧ Impatient! "When am I gonna be able to feel 'em?" He asks, a hand upon your belly, which has yet to display any changes. "Not for another few months, Nori! I haven't even begun to show!"

✧ Hides things sometimes or puts them up places you can't go just so he can swoop in and help you, saving your day and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he tells you he can handle it, don't you worry your pretty little head.

✧ Nori always teases you when he pours himself a drink. "Bet you'd like some of this, huh? Not for three more months!" He chuckles. Your brows furrow. "Three months? What about when I'm feeding?" "What does tha- oh. Does that really-" "Yes, yes it does." "By the stars, I could have got my baby drunk!"

✧ Talks to the baby quite a bit, especially when he finally can feel the kicks. "Where you running off to, huh?" He chuckles, feeling the flutters against his hand pick up. "That's 'cause of me, isn't it? You hear me? That's right, it's your da. Can you believe it? Me, your da! I'll take good care of you, you hear?"

Ori

✧ "Ori, dear," you implored your husband, "Might you knit something for me?" Looking up from the scarf he'd just finished, Ori's eyes fell upon you and he gave that smile, the special one reserved just for you. "Of course. What would you like?" "A wee pair of booties," you replied, hands clasped and expression dreamy. "Who needs booties?" He asked, head cocked. "We will in the fall," you answered, stepping closer and resting a hand upon his. Ori's jaw dropped. "You... I... We-" Smile widening, you nodded. "I. You. We," you agreed.

✧ Nearly from the first day you know you are with child, Ori is rattling off names. After tossing out a great deal, he finally pauses and gives a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've thought about this a lot," he confesses with a grin, "I just can't believe it's happening." Your hand joins with his, resting over your little bump. "Neither can I. It's like a dream."

✧ "So," you ask Ori one day, leaning your chin upon the couch where you'd lain, "What should our plan be for when my water breaks?" Your husband's brows furrow. "When your what?" "Oh, no," you mutter. Cue Ori spending his afternoon receiving a great multitude of lessons. What he got for being raised by other dwarf men, you suppose. "That really all happens to you?" He asks, gaping at you as though you came of the Valar themselves. "Yes, it does. Birth is a great deal of work. They don't just run on out, you know!" "Yes, I know. Of course I know." Ori's voice is faint; he excuses himself and you assume it's to faint or be sick, but about an hour later he returns bearing gifts. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through all that." "Sweetheart," you chuckle, cupping his cheek, "You know it takes two, right?" Your sweet husband reddened, but he nodded.

✧ Ori takes on almost all the cleaning himself- you haven't even asked! Finally curiosity gets the better of you and you inquire as to why he's gotten so into housekeeping. "Well, aren't you tired?" He asks simply, innocently, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

✧ He also knits far more than that pair of booties you requested- all three of you will have matching sweaters before your little one has arrived!

✧ Ori's favorite thing in the world is sitting with you in his lap, one hand cradling your growing bump and the other holding a book as you two take turns reading aloud, filling your cozy hollow with the sounds of voices your little one will come to love. The books are hand-drawn, written, and bound by him, of course!

Fili

✧ You two speak of little ones so much it borderline infuriates the others, Kili himself even bursting out in frustration one day at yet another interruption about tiny clothes, "Just get her pregnant already!" "Good idea. See you later," Fili replies, scooping you up and carrying you off bridal-style. "Wait, I- Damn, brother..." In reality, Fili just carried you around the corner and set you down while you two burst out laughing, but about a month later your tries were in fact successful!

✧ Honeyed words were no trouble for your husband before, but now? Praise falls endlessly from his lips. "Never did I think you could get more beautiful, and yet each day you succeed beyond my wildest dreams."

✧ Fili has a near-magical sense for your new struggles of coordination, all but flying to your side to catch your hand or waist whenever you trip or even whenever you must rise up again from your seat!

✧ He loves to tease you, asking what disgusting thing you'll think of him to fix next or joke that he can finally beat you in a fight in this state, but every joke is punctuated by the most loving eyes and gestures that they cannot do a thing but warm your heart and make you chuckle.

✧ Your baby is very active, kicking all the time! "We've definitely got a little Fili in here!" Your husband exclaims with a grin, hand resting atop your belly to feel your little one's exuberant motions. "A strong babe for sure," you sigh, "Much to the pity of my ribs!" "Too bad we aren't having a Kili. Nice and lazy for you." "Hey, I heard that!"

✧ He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you as you waddle after him, golden hair cascading down. "Care for me to slow down a little?" "I care for you to shut up," you shoot back, crossing your arms and fighting your smile.

Kili

✧ The thought crossed your mind far before it did your husband's. Not that Kili had no desire for children, it was simply that the possibility was all the more yours to consider. It took a visit from your young cousin, who had Kili wrapped around your finger, for the fire to light in your husband's head as well, a smile lighting up his face. "We- we could..." "I know, Kili." You could and you certainly did but a few months later.

✧ "I hope they look just like you." "Me too." Kili pulls his head out of the crook of your neck. "Hey, that is the part where you say 'no, I hope they look like you'!" "I'm doing the work of carrying for how long again? Nine, ten months? Least they can do is resemble me a little," you shoot back with a smirk.

✧ It was Oin who brought the news: "Both babies seem healthy as far as I can tell!" "Both?" You gape. "Both babies?" "'s right," Oin replies, "I know I can't always hear the best, but I haven't been wrong on a heartbeat yet. You can feel 'em." "Guess we did pretty good, eh love?" Kili teases, earning him an elbow to the ribs, but he just shakes his head and tugs you closer against his chest. "Should we make their names confusing as well?" "Don't you think it might get old for them?" "Fili and I switched names plenty of times and we aren't even identical!" You should have known.

✧ Kili takes to sleeping facing you, close enough that sometimes your cheeks brush. Others he slips down lower and you awake with your husband cuddled up to the bump of your belly.

✧ Will come running from any room, anywhere, to feel the babies kick, and also loves tugging along any of his family he can take, too. Childlike wonder fills your husband's eyes every time and pride glistens in his dark eyes when he's brought along his mother, his brother, even his uncle the king!

✧ Never once do you doubt yourself or have one moment of room for insecurity, for Kili still flirts with you as if you were tweens and sneaks all sorts of touches, pecks, and affectionate hands in your hair wherever he can find it! The notion of a baby destroying the romance of your relationship is laughable to you, who married a dwarf that has no shame telling you you're the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth and warm his-and the baby's in a different way-body.

Bilbo

✧ Bilbo's a perceptive hobbit. He knows something's off with you. You don't usually scurry around the way you are like everything has to be perfect. That's his job. "Something the matter? Are you... expecting someone?" Your husband follows you down Bag End's hall as he gives his inquiry, eyebrows shooting up at the look on your face when you turn around. Consternation, resignation, finally a smile. "I was going to tell you after dinner," you answered, "But since you asked it like that, yes I am expecting someone. Our child this spring." At that, it was Bilbo's turn to shift through expressions. Shock, realization, finally a smile.

✧ Nursery shopping has become Bilbo's favorite pastime. Baby Baggins isn't arriving for months and yet your husband is returning from market with all manner of trinkets for the shelves and paper for the walls. You cannot help giggling at his armfuls of supplies and kissing his cheek as you relieve as much of his burden as he allows you to.

✧ So sweet, always helping you dress, pulling on every garment with the utmost of care and even avoiding your reflection on days you feel bad. Quickly kissing each part of your body before he covers it with something he knows will be comfortable.

✧ You'll be eating well whether you like it or not! Bilbo will make you anything under the sun if it means you and Baby Baggins are getting nourishment and he certainly will not have you skimping! Anything that makes you sick simply is not allowed in Bag End at all, end of discussion.

✧ One night, you awake to soft whispers and your heart melts at the sight of Bilbo resting his chin on your growing bump talking to the baby. Not uttering a word, you simply watch, taking in the moment beneath the sheen of tears in your eyes.

✧ "Careful, careful," Bilbo is always telling you, holding your hand and guiding you over the smallest of obstacles, even little puddles and rocks.

Thranduil

✧ He has talked about getting you pregnant before, but speaking of it and doing it are two entirely different things, especially with...well, words of such nature. Thus, you find yourself nervously wringing your hands before your husband as he strokes your face, asking whatever is the matter. At Thranduil's touch, his intense gaze, you fin yourself melting and admitting all, confessing that you are expecting his child. You are certainly not expecting the way his confident smile utterly falters, dissipating in favor of the look of a man near tears. "Truly? A little one of our own?" "Yes," you whisper, finally able to smile as the tension melts from your body, which is soon pulled against the Woodland King's. "Long have I dreamed of this day, my love."

✧ One of his favorite new activities is commissioning you new maternity dresses; you will certainly have plenty to wear if Thranduil has any say about it! In addition, when the time comes of course he requests that you model them for him.

✧ Thranduil loves to sneak up behind you, lightly wrapping his hands about your waist and laying them atop yours, his head resting in the crook of your neck and breathy, pleased laughter warming the skin there.

✧ When you start showing, oh, he loves it. One more sign that you are his, utterly and truly his queen, his beloved, claimed by Thranduil in every sense. He follows your lead, a hand around your waist, letting you shine like the gem he knows you to be. Rarely will you two be seen apart, not when the king can bask in your glow, relish the eyes upon your beautiful form, heavy with his child.

✧ There is one day he catches you in tears and heart tearing he steps to scoop you up against him, cheeks held gently in his elegant hands, which begin to glitter with your tears. "My rings no longer fit," you sob, head falling to his chest. Thranduil holds you close, grip loose as though you might break. "That is not your fault, meleth nîn." "I feel so... so massive." "Who wishes a small dwelling, hm? Piteous thing not to have any comforts. Your body is a host of life, the vessel of a bloodline. Beautiful in all its forms. Never forget that, oh dearest one."

✧ Thranduil is experienced; he knows many little tricks to help you feel better, be they massages or ways to bear your weight. He impresses you with the knowledge he has of the ways of women, understanding your water breaking, dilation, and every complication the healers warn you about and telling you before they even do!

Feren

✧ First to know was neither you nor your husband, but rather your cat, for she had suddenly become your little shadow, following you about your home and taking rest upon your lap as often as she could. "I wonder what it is that got into her," you commented one afternoon, smiling and stroking her back. "Growing up, ours got like this when my mother was carrying my younger sisters. Both times. It was like he could sense it," Feren replied. You both sat in smiling silence for a moment longer before simultaneously straightening, looking each other right in the widening eyes.

✧ Gets a little flustered, frankly. Not so much at your news itself, simply the realization sinking in that he is to be a father. He, Feren, will have a child. He says this out loud several times before suddenly breaking out into a smile. You tease him for going through half his emotions at once, but now the wave of joy has swept him up!

✧ Playfully rolls his eyes and mock-complains every time you remind him that he has to clean up after the cat now! Subsequently adds that he would fetch you the moon if you asked it.

✧ Loves helping you bathe the more difficult your condition makes it, scrubbing your hair with such care and gently massaging your sore feet and ankles as you wash up. Despite your husband's skill in battle, Feren's hands are the most loving and delicate you could ask for.

✧ Your husband has a natural tendency to rise early, so now that your sleep has become more fitful you do find that you have more time to spend together. Your head falling to his shoulder as you whisper to each other, seated as you are upon your bed with blankets draped over your shoulders.

✧ Feren wins your heart time and time again, like the day he lowered you down gently onto the grass of a sunny meadow, basking with you and weaving flowers. He made you a ring, crowned you with a wreath of flowers atop your head, and made another little one to place gently on the curve of your belly, bringing your heart to soar.

Bard

✧ Uncertainty wracks your heart and wrings your hands at the would-be-cheerful news. In fact, you yourself do feel joy, have since your suspicions were confirmed, but would Bard see it the same way? He already has three mouths to feed, three children all old enough to take care of themselves. Will he wish to start it all over so? "What's wrong, love? Your lip is bleeding." So it is. You've practically gnawed the poor thing off in all your stewing. A sigh escapes you. Bard is your husband. No sense in delaying a very necessary conversation. "I know we should have spoken more about it..." You begin, trailing off. At once, Bard senses your reservation and rises to your side, taking hold of your arms; the love in his dark eyes brings a small smile to your lips and relaxes you slightly. "I'm with child, Bard." Almost childlike is the wonder and joy spreading across your face, and before you can say another word you are being pulled into Bard's chest, face snuggling into the fur of his coat.

✧ He knows what to expect, naturally, so Bard is definitely not the type of husband to gripe about your requests, though he does smirk and poke fun if you’re especially outrageous with it or have a funny enough delivery. Then kisses you if you pout about it before fetching what you seek.

✧ Caution overtakes you and your husband as you make to tell his older children the news, particularly you, but your wringing hands relax when you can see the joy in their eyes, particularly the girls! They hope the baby is another girl, hugging you so tight you almost cannot breathe, but you complain not.

✧ Happy is Bard to take on assistance cooking; he knows it can make you sick sometimes and besides, it's a nice excuse to make sure you get all the nutrients you need! You are certainly very lucky in the skill and domesticity of your spouse.

✧ Stands behind you and reaches his arms around you, lifting up the weight you carry and smiling, kissing your neck and cheeks as you relax from your burden.

✧ He also has no qualms about making you rest, down even to physically lifting you up and carrying you to bed if he must!

Beorn

✧ Hesitant as he always would have claimed to be about bringing more Skin-Changers into a world so cruel to them, Beorn feels his nesting instincts kick in very quickly after you become his wife. You see it in the things he gathers, the way your husband moves things such as your blades to higher, safer locations. He is anticipating something. Something you cannot help pulling him aside and asking about, and when your feelings on the subject are made known, well, it is entirely possible you conceived that very night.

✧ Beorn has an almost eerie sense for all the changes taking place in your body. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and without a word your husband is behind you, ushering you down for a massage with some of the oils he's pressed.

✧ The aforementioned nesting instincts manifest early on, your husband carefully blunting corners and tucking away the best blankets so the little one-or ones!- will be nothing but safe and comfortable.

✧ Withdrawn as he could be, Beorn's affection is drawn out by your condition, his big brown eyes soft upon you as he pulls you into his lap, large hands secure about your waist and sliding gently up and down your growing belly.

✧ And grow it does! It seems to get heavier by the day, but that is explained thanks to your husband's exceptional hearing. "Four heartbeats. One is yours. A litter- three are coming!" Spots dance in your vision at that news, but Beorn's smile as he grips your hand brings you back to the light. You could do it with him by your side. "Our little litter."

✧ He attempts to reassure you anytime your anxiety grows. "My dearest flower, I have delivered hundreds of calves and piglets in my day! You will see this through." Reassuring? Perhaps not so much. But in your heightened emotion, that does break you into a wild laughter that does indeed relax you nonetheless.

Want to meet the little ones? Perhaps there will be a Part 2 😉

Taglist: @lokilover476 @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🩷

[moondirti]

i accidentally deleted the ask i received yesterday (like an idiot) so im dumping the rant i left underneath it for archival reasons

what i love most about big ugly brute simon is pairing him with girls who get a little too close. perhaps they catch him staring in public and smile politely, a little daunted but attributing what they can to innocent intent over malice. who treat him with basic decency, or perhaps extend a little extra kindness if they take the dead look in his eyes to be consequence of a rough day. the one's who hold doors open for him, or let him skip in line because he looks like he can really do with the coffee. the maybe he's just misunderstood, never judge a book by it's cover, treat others the way you want to be treated type.

kind, polite, genuinely good girls, who live life by the please and thank you handbook they were given in kindergarten, and were never taught when to keep it to themselves. well-meaning always, yet either foolish or curious when they give a beast the benefit of the doubt.

because while their courtesy is just that in the eyes of conventional society, it has an absolutely foul effect on one simon riley.

say it's because hardly anyone is ever keen on him. certainly not pretty birds, with pretty wrists, and pretty hair and clothes and easily corruptible smiles. at the first sign of warmth, he'll pounce. all animal, blinded hunger. cruel passion he knows you're not built to take, your heart pulpy like saccharine fruit. cruel passion that he will inflict anyway; trailing behind you all the way home, choreographing meetings, pushing your courtesy to its limits by being nothing but a rude brute. he bullies his way into your life, making a man-sized hole where he was uninvited (though he'll contest that. what does a smile mean if not lay over me and print yourself on my womb?). bullies you into submission, weaponising that tenderness to suit his real needs–

not coffee, or a good morning, or anything but a warm cunt and meal to come home to.

i don't think he'd ever ease up the intensity, either. even if you acquiesce or are flattered by the distasteful attention. though simon might soften up to you (in the only way he can: lending his ear while you talk about his day, or walking blocks in the rain to fetch takeout from that specific greek place you've been craving), he's still mean about it. presses you where you're weak, isolates you from your friends. hones derision when you continue to be just as amicable to everyone else. you must be asking for it, see, if you had been asking for it with him. is a big dick about it, callous and nasty as he can be – because you allow him to be, babbling tearful apologies into his chest instead of standing up for yourself.

doesn't believe any of it, of course. he knows you're too sweet for your own good. but he can't help but love seeing you get all desperate when you cry. makes his knees go weak. his head itch. you'll hold on to his arm – soft and wet and repentant, pure silk against his gnarled edges (a point people will always latch onto. how'd he land that? right minger he is) – until he growls something about making it up to him.

which you jump at. good, good, generous girl. will seat yourself, fine china between thighs that could crush you, and choke on his ruddy cock. maybe he holds you down on it, stuffs your nose onto the untamed mess of his pubes until your little legs kick for breath. or, maybe he'll lead you to down to fit your tongue in his ass, tugging himself over you until cum mats your hair. whatever the most vile, debased thing he can conceptualise at the moment is fair game. not necessarily because of the deed itself, but because he lives for nothing more than watching you do it despite not wanting to. to please him :(

sorry im a little crazy about this

[walpu]

hii, first of all, sorry for my bad english

this may sound weird, but lately i've been thinking of aventurine turning in a cat. like, for some strange reason (maybe during a mission), he turned in a cute little cat. and since reader doesn't know he's a cat, he feels free to enjoy all reader's affection, and maybe to let his emotions win and cry while being caressed. and then he turns human and he's crying enough to fill a swimming pool. idk if i explained well :(

tysm, i love love love your works!! ❤︎

AWWW THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST and don't worry your English is perfectly fine! It's not my native language as well so I get the struggle tho

I love making my faves cry so there's a possibility that I've got a bit carried away lol

taking care of cat!Aventurine

edits by @keisieudeptry on twitter

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of cuddles, n̷̳͙͊͛õ̵̩͓ ̸̧͉̓b̶̳́̎e̵̖͋͊ṭ̴̩̔ȧ̵̪͚̕

Aventurine

Listen, he's always on alert okay. This man rarely allows himself to relax, especially when he's on another one of his business trips.

And he knows what to expect. Lies, attempts on his life, threats etc. He has seen it all.

But this. This. This is something new. Of course anything can happen when you're dealing with The Masked fools but this? Being turned into a cat? In what place this is even funny? It is kinda funny tho just not for Aven

He knows better than to panic. Yes, being turned into a tiny orange cat was not a part of his plans. Yes, this is probably the most defenseless and vulnerable state he's been in since his childhood. Yes, this sucks. But hey not like panicking will change anything.

Instead he just sits in the corner, feeling incredibly anxious and dreadful. His only hope is that this shapeshifting trick won't last for long.

A huge wave of relief washes over him when he sees a familiar person. And not just any person but you. The only person who can put his restless mind at ease, at least for a short time. He wouldn't mind seeing Topaz or Ratio too but it's much better when it's you.

He quickly realizes, however, that his joy was premature. He can't communicate with you! And you don't know that this is him! So the only thing poor Aven can do is follow you around and... meow. It's almost humiliating. Too bad he doesn't have time to care.

Soon enough you give up at finally pick up the oddly familiar cat. Every time you try to put the cat down it starts meowing and running after you so the only thing you can do is pick it up and carry around like a potato.

And you know how it is with cats, once you put your hands on one you can't stop petting it. You run your fingers through the cat's fur absently, while checking you phone for any messages from Aventurine. Hugging the cat, pressing your face to it's soft fur. Something about it surely reminds you of Aven. The thought, no matter how childish it is, brings a small smile on your face.

And poor, poor Aven. For so long he's been longing for your touch while laying awake at night, his poor heart flattered every time your fingers brushed against his. He wants wants wants to melt into your embrace yet this is not allowed for him.

How can he ask for it without exposing the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. How can he open his heart to you without reveling all the ugly, fragile parts.

He wants to be open with you, he really does. Yet it's so unreasonably hard. Would you kiss his head like you do now if you would know how empty he is inside? Would he be able to press his forehead into you palm, asking for more more more without feeling exposed?

In a way, it's good that right now he's in this form. He doesn't really have to think about anything, doesn't have to feel anxious about revealing too much. He can just enjoy in.

You two fall asleep just like that and he doesn't have to overthink, he can just crawl to you side, nuzzling up to you.

You can't help but notice that the kitten in your arms is trembling slightly. And when you pull it closer in order to provide some warmth and comfort it just purrs and meows pitifully. Almost like it's… crying.

Now listen. I'm 100% sure Aven is a light sleeper. So there's no way he won't wake up from a loud gasp and a lot of movements near him.

Well. Seems like the shapeshifting trick the masked fool pulled on him lasted only for 12 hours. And now he lays on the couch in his human form while you look at him with the wide eyes.

Awkward.

His initial reaction is to laugh it off. "Surprised, dear? It's a shame you can't see your own face right now ha ha". Would explain the whole situation, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal. No mention of you cuddling session tho. Max he would say is "my, my, didn't know you where such a cat person".

However, his smile freezes immediately when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Well. Here goes all of his feigned confidence.

Here is this feeling again. Your warmth, you scent, the comfort your touch brings. You telling how you started to get worried and how relieved you are that he didn't get hurt. It cuts so deep, makes him feel so exposed yet so needed. Loved even.

At first he doesn't even get it why your eyes get even wider, why a look so lost and worried all of the sudden. Only when your hands hesitantly cup his cheeks and you ask him what's wrong he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.

You know those tears when they just drop from your eyes and it's not like you're hysterical or crying uncontrollably but the tears just keep coming and coming and the more you try to calm down , the worse it gets? Yeah, him.

Would almost automatically tell you that everything is fine. When you confront him, pointing out that he's literally crying, will get even more confused than you. "Hah, seems like you're right, dear" he says with a small smile, giving up on the idea of hiding it from you. After all, it's too late for that anyway.

It feels... not even humiliating, no. It's weird, scary even, to be so open around someone. To be stripped of his mask so suddenly.

And yet he doesn't have time to care when your hands hold him oh so tenderly, when you cup his face and ask him what's wrong.

"Nothing, nothing, really. Just getting a bit sentimental here. Just... hold me like that for a bit more, 'kay?" he manages to whisper with a faint smile before pressing his face in the crook of your neck.

God feeling his tears on your skin feels so surreal. And heartbreaking too.

With each tender touch he gets even more emotional, to the point when he literally chokes on his own tears. Please hold him, run your fingers through his hair, kiss the top of his head.

He just doesn't get it, it feels so good to be held by you, why does his stupid heart hurts so much then?

Honestly he didn't cry for so long and there are so many repressed feelings, just let him let it all out.

He'll probably fall asleep in your arms, feeling very exhausted after the sudden emotional outburst. In the morning would act like nothing has happened, making some dismissing comments about him being a bit overdramatic last night. Don't let him withdraw into himself but don't push him to open up too much as well.

Just touch him more often from now on, especially when he looks like he had a bad day. And eventually he'll turn into your lap cat, reaching out for your warmth himself with or without reason.

"You're being clingy again" "Am not <З" all while sitting on your lap.

You've domesticated him so good luck.

[rikkiz]

Can you do Ni-ki when reader feels insecure so he makes her feel good while telling her how pretty she is?

-🐥anon

Insecurities - Nishimura Riki

You had been in a sour mood all day, and it was clear to your boyfriend that you'd been abnormally quiet the whole time you'd been hanging out. He didn't say anything at first because there were times you'd get in moods like this and then it'd simply go away but today, it didn't seem to be getting any better.

You were laying on his bed as he watched something on the TV. You were watching with him on the little couch in his room before but then suddenly got up and told him that you were going to lay down.

Riki got up and quietly went over to you, resting his hand on your shoulder as he looked down at you from where he stood. You glanced up at him.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you sick?" He asked.

"No." You murmured in response.

"Then, what's going on?" Riki questioned further.

"Nothing." You lie.

Riki sighed as he got in bed beside you, laying beside you before pulling you against him. "I know when you're lying, Y/n." He said. "Tell me what's going on."

You sighed, "I feel like shit."

"So, you do feel sick?" Riki asked.

"No." You groaned.

"Baby, I'm just trying to understand. Just tell me what you mean then?" Riki asked, trying to remain patient with you.

"I feel ugly." You said, finally being truthful and not vague with your response.

"You feel ugly?" Riki asked and you nodded. "You're nowhere near ugly. Why do you feel that way?" He wondered as his hand softly caressed your face.

"I just do." You mumbled out.

Riki's hand went down to your hip as he rubbed it softly, "I wish you knew how beautiful I find you. You're always so pretty to me, no matter what."

"Don't lie." You tell him.

"I'm not lying." He says as he gently pushes you so that you're lying flat on your back against the mattress. He then slowly got over you, holding himself up.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you looked up at him.

"Need you to know how pretty you are to me." Riki said before pressing a soft kiss on your lips and leaning back so that he could kneel between your legs. He tugged on the waistband of your pajama shorts, looking up at you, waiting for permission.

You just nodded, you kind of did this, maybe it would make you feel a bit better, you thought. He lifted your legs up and pulled your shorts and undies off before spreading your legs again.

He then scooted back a bit and leaned down, pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs. "I love you so much." He murmured against your skin as he kissed you before making his way to your core.

Riki began to place soft kisses on your pretty pussy before sliding his tongue up and down it. You were a moaning mess, but at the same time, you were on the verge of tears as you whimpered out.

Riki prodded his tongue at your entrance before focusing on the outer area, sloppily making out with your pussy at this point. Your hands were gripping the blanket as he ate you hungrily, desperate to show you how pretty he found you.

You were literally sobbing at this point, both from pleasure and being overwhelmed by your emotions. Riki didn't say anything about you sobbing because he knew you just needed to cry it out as he continued to devour your kitty.

To be honest, it didn't take long for you to be cumming all over his lips and he licked it all up, licking an extra stripe over your sensitive clit before finally pulling away, wiping his face with his hand as he watched you continue to quietly cry.

He went closer, holding himself up over you on the mattress, your legs spread, down there still bare, as he pressed his clothed crotch against you. Riki leaned in and kissed you for a few moments, neither of you caring that he literally just ate you out, before pulling back.

"You don't need to be insecure. I know you can't help it sometimes but really, I need you to know that I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I'm not just saying that because you're my girlfriend. I promise, baby." Riki softly spoke. "I love you." He added.

You sniffled as you wiped your tears, "I love you too." You responded softly as you hugged him closer.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 23: Comfort/Crying

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Comfort/Crying (🌼)

Summary: You’ve had a shitty couple of months, trying to hold on for the sake of everyone around you, but you can only take so much…

Warnings: Angst, crying, slight allusions to depression, self-loathing, hurt/comfort, not proof-read

Word Count: 982

A/n: This prompt hits differently now than it would have when I intended to post it, but now it also comes at the right time because I do feel like we have all cried a lot lately. I know I have, and I could use some good old Matty comfort right about now. Like, a hug would be enough.

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon)

You’re tired. 

You’re so tired.

Life has had quite the habit of beating you down lately, and you are so exhausted you just want to disappear. You are expected to function, but how can you when you’re already falling apart?

“Hey,” Matt says softly from the doorway. “You okay?”

You don’t look up from the onions you’re cutting. He just got home from court; the last thing he wants is to listen to you bitch and moan about what a shitty month you’ve had. 

You have to function because there are people who depend on you. If you’re not strong for him, what is the point? In your mind, at least, that makes sense, twisted as it may be—and it is incredibly twisted.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just… making dinner.”

The vegetable’s gases burn in your eyes. You’re shaking, but that must be all the caffeine you had after yet another sleepless night. Matt is gone so much, during the day as this kindhearted lawyer who fights for the rights of the innocent, and at night as Daredevil, he doesn’t know how you keep tossing and turning when he’s not there. You can’t blame him for having his own shit to deal with; he’s a good boyfriend, and you love him to pieces, but you can’t talk to him. 

You don’t want him to worry because you know he would burn the world down if it meant you could be free of all this pain. He would find a way to exorcize the hell out of the demons in your head, wrap you in cotton, and keep you safe from the storm raging outside. He would let go of everything just to be with you, and you refuse to let yourself be this fucking selfish. Because people depend on him, too. 

But oh, you are truly falling apart at the seams. Too much to feel, too much to think about—it is a painful weight on your chest threatening to crush you. There is no reason behind it, just a myriad of disasters balled into one, and the avalanche is about to take you away. 

Matt reaches out, fingers brushing your shoulder. “You sure?” he asks. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. 

“You’re crying.”

“It’s the onions,” you say. “The, uh, fumes…”

“Okay.” 

He doesn’t have to acknowledge the fact that you’re crying to know something is wrong with you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. 

He’s your sanctuary. 

His hand hovers over the one holding the knife.  “Let go,” he says. “Let go…” 

Your fingers loosen around the handle. Matt catches it, wasting no time to place it aside before you can hurt yourself on the sharp edge of its blade. His voice is a mere breath against your heated temple. “That’s it. It’s okay.”

You can barely breathe, your arms flailing around helplessly. Matt doesn’t dare let go of you, afraid you might fall apart if he loosens his hold, so he squeezes his arms around you until you are enveloped in a cocoon of him, and the world outside disappears.

He shushes in your ear. Gentle whispers of, ‘You’re okay. I’ve got you,’ course through your veins like a balm for your weary soul. You’ve been holding on for the sake of the people around you for too long; it rolls over you like a boulder. You can no longer stop it. 

His hands find yours, intertwining your fingers as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Let it out,” he says. 

The tears run down your cheek in an endless flood. It’s ugly, messy, and feels like too much, but Matt doesn’t pull away. He stands there, absorbing every bit of it, trying to work as a sponge to soak up what’s hurting you. He would rather have you take the pain out on him than suffer through any of this alone.

When you finally manage to suck in a deep, shuddering breath, you’re exhausted—wrung out. Wrecked. But there is a sudden emptiness where the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders used to be. 

You finally lift your head, tearful eyes staring back into his. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He shushes you. “You needed to cry. It’s okay.”

You whimper at the tenderness in his voice. 

“It’s okay to lean on me.” He turns you around to him, pressing your face into his chest. “Just promise me you’ll come to me next time.” A kiss melts against your temple. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

A sharp breath burns the tender flesh of your lungs. “No, I–” you stammer. “I have t–”

He cuts you off, his own voice on the verge of breaking. “You don’t. You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore.”

The dam might be breaking, but he is right there to pick up the pieces before they can get lost in the current with the shards of your broken heart. He patches you up the only way he knows how: with his hands and silent declarations of his undying love. 

And it really is undying, you realize. He loves you when you’re put together, and he loves you when you’re broken. He loves you without a doubt or second thought. He loves you unconditionally, wholly, and he would go to the ends of the earth for you. 

You’re not alone. You might have been once, but not since you met him. Not since he walked into your life and turned it all upside-down. 

You filled each other’s empty hearts like it was the only thing to do.

You don’t have to deal with these demons on your own anymore because Matt will always be there for you, no matter how much you loathe your miserable self. He will always be there to pick up the pieces, and you will never have to be alone again.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[earthtooz]

x : CHANGE YOUR MIND ! :*+ﾟ

in which: it's 2 am and itoshi sae is outside your door, hoping for a second chance.

warnings: 1.2k words, angst to fluff with hurt/comfort, happy ending, exes to lovers, not at all realistic but it's itoshi sae ok and we're delusional, ooc!sae

a/n: second second chance romance fic for sae LOL he's just too easy to write for when it comes to exes to lovers. idk why the banner is so low quality but enjoy!

you wonder where itoshi sae finds the nerve. after breaking up with you six months ago ‘for the sake of his career’, you never thought sae would have the gall to show up at your apartment, let alone at 2am, rudely disrupting your sleep.

yet, here he is. a soccer prodigy and superstar in the flesh, standing under the harsh lighting of your apartment hallway that always casts an ugly glow on everyone except sae.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, gripping the door handle a little tighter.

“i just got off the plane,” he answers, evading your question. 

“i know. i can see your suitcases.”

he doesn’t say anything more after that. before the breakup, you were able to read the untouchable itoshi sae, translating his stiff silences into words he could never say but wholeheartedly mean, breaking through his ego to then understand the messages of his heart. he only hopes that you can interpret the one he’s brought to you right now.

“can i come in?” asks the athlete, his question shy and lacking the usual demand that sits in his tone.

still, you furrow your eyebrows and stand your ground. “why on earth would i let you in?”

softness is a weapon that itoshi sae owns. he knows that with his typical hardened exterior the best way he can get through people sometimes is with pliability. even you have fallen for it.

he frowns, “because i’m tired and i want to sleep.”

“don’t you have your own five star hotel that your manager booked for you?” 

“can i just come in?”

the nerve. “itoshi, please leave.”

“i will, i will, but will you hear me out first?”

“what could you possibly have to say that you didn’t befo-”

“-i love you.”

the world stills.

the air around you becomes delicate and you’re too scared to breathe in fear of disrupting the silence, but it feels like the floor beneath you just crumbled and you’re falling through the debris. you’re falling and the only thing you can do is search for sae in the chaos. 

but you don’t hold on to him. no, not this time.

“that’s not fair, that’s not fair at all, sae, you can’t-” a sob tears your words apart, “-you can’t break my heart then come back six months later to tell me that you apparently love me, do you know how hard it was for me to just- ugh!”

in a fit of exasperation, you leave your post at the door and retreat back into your apartment. sae quietly slips through the crack you left open, closing the door with a soft click and you don’t even have the energy to chase him out. he even left his suitcases outside- not that anyone would take them at 4 in the morning. 

“you left me so abruptly and carelessly. we were together for almost a year, sae, yet you threw me aside, called me a burden and moved on with a snap of your fingers! was it easy? moving on like that?” 

instead of flinching at your yelling, sae simply stands at the entrance and accepts it, letting your words prick his skin and sink into him as if would make up for the pain you’ve been bathing in. 

“do you know what that did to me?” your voice is quiet now, turned down a few notches. 

he knows. he knows that you’ve been trying to get over it and not let the breakup impact your life too much, despite what he did. you’ve been going out with friends, treating yourself to everything you deserve, and finding a peace that he’s proud of you for. but sae also knows about the many nights you’ve spent crying and being sensitive to loving again, he hears about all of it from rin who lectured him when he first broke up with you and most likely, will lecture him again when he hears about sae’s unplanned visit.

sae was stupid and naive, but you were the first person he ever loved, and the world is colourless without your splash of influence. 

sae knows he shouldn’t be here existing in your space after everything, however, the instant he stepped off the plane, the first thing his heart wanted was to see one of the few things he loves about japan, you. 

“-so, please, just leave me alone and don’t come back,” you request.

the last thing sae is good at is following instructions, especially ones he doesn’t like.

“but, i love you,” he tries again. you fall to the couch with a defeated sigh, his persistence impaling your heart. 

“stop it.”

somehow, he’s now standing beside you. “do you still love me too?”

“sae-”

“-if you don’t love me anymore i’ll leave.”

with your head in your hands, you lie to him, “i don’t want you to stay either way.”

“another chance, i’ll make it right, i’ll fix it with my life, y/n, just please say you love me too.” 

“you’ll hurt me again.”

“i won’t,” he falls down onto the couch beside you, enveloping you with his frame. “i’ll be good and you can kill me if i’m not.”

you laugh. it’s dry and reserved, but you’re laughing and he begins rocking you side to side. “i don’t want to kill you.”

“rin will, then.”

you take your face out of your hands, looking at him properly for the first time since he arrived. “i-i don’t know, sae. you’ll leave again when you decide that you don’t want me.”

he doesn’t know how to tell you that whilst abroad, all he could think about was you. that during the mundane chores, the tedious trips to and from training, and all the times that he had won a match, he was thinking about you. 

he thought about you in the music he played whilst cleaning, he thought about taking you to a restaurant he saw whilst on the way, and his thoughts about you are loudest when he has a medal around his neck yet all he wants to know is whether or not you’re watching.

but you’re not beside him singing along whilst he was mopping his floors, you weren’t there in his car pointing out every fun detail you saw, and he didn’t even know if you wanted anything to do with soccer after what him. 

everytime, the yearning for you would grow, to the point that it lead him here when he should have gone to the hotel to wash up and sleep off the tiring trip instead.

but sitting here now and looking at your tear-stained face, he knows he’ll always prefer you- he’ll always find and choose you, so long as you let him. 

“give me another chance,” and i’ll show you that i’ll never leave again.

“fine,” you surrender after a moment of silence and sae feels like he could jump to the moon. “but we take things slow-”

“-i love you,” he repeats, grabbing your face and pushing you down on the couch, peppering an endless stream of kisses on your skin. sae’s outburst of affection and happiness is uncharacteristic but contagious. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

between each declaration is sae kissing a new part of your face, showering your cheeks, forehead, nose- everywhere with unbridled adoration that he has been keeping locked up for too long. you’re real between his hands, you’re real in his hold, you’re real beneath him, and he doesn’t want this dream to end. his kisses feel like healing promises and you melt right into them. 

“i get it!” you giggle out, hands on his shoulders as to wrestle him off. “you don’t need to keep telling me, and promise me that we’re going to take it slow-”

a cold tear slides down your cheek, silencing your giggles. it’s not you who’s crying though, so you hug sae a little tighter.

something tells you that this second chance won’t backfire.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[temptaetions]

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

genre: best friends to lovers | idiots in love | x fem!reader | smut | fluff | angst

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip. 

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise. 

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?" 

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs. 

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek. 

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears. 

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm. 

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?" 

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed. 

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them. 

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[nmakii]

THE GIRL IN MY STORY HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU!

— in which alastor’s dear is ridiculed. he’ll take care of those insolent wretches later… comforting you is much more important

— lol a little drabble bc i j found out one of my former friends called me ugly last school year and i kinda get it cause i had a huge forehead (i got bangs to fix that) but i just feel a little insecure rn

you hit your head on the pillow, your smile faltering as soon as you were alone. what an awful day… today was exhausting, being ridiculed by those demons in the carmine district was hurtful, to say the very least. most especially when they poked at your looks.

appearance was always a taboo subject to you, all that anyone ever wants is to be beautiful.

creak…

“darling, what are you doing back here so early in the day?” alastor asked, walking over to you as he put his face near your’s. “don’t wanna talk about it…” you frowned, turning away from him.

alastor’s curiosity grew as he turned you back over. “is something wrong, my dear?” he asked, a soft smile on his face. “what is it that happened? c’mon, tell me about it, love.” he said as he sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

“am… am i pretty, alastor?” you sniffed, eyes growing wet with tears. “my dear, of course you are! what makes you think otherwise?” alastor raised an eyebrow.

“uuh… some demons were kinda…” you started, leaning your head on his chest as your tears stained his coat as he waited for you to finish speaking. “t…they were calling me ugly…” you finished, a hiccup interrupting your breaths.

“my love, don’t let those wretches’ blind comments plague your thoughts. you’re beautiful, i promise you that, on my own grave!” he quietly laughed at his own joke. it didn’t seem to calm your thoughts though. “dear, trust me, you are gorgeous. you would not have any idea how many other demons i had to fight off to earn the right to court you!”

it made you feel slightly better, the thought of it making you smile a little. “come now, smile, my dear! you know you’re never fully dressed without one!” alastor’s smile growing wider as he pointed to his own grin.

alastor’s trademark motto making your smile grow wider as he wiped your pearly tears away. “don’t cry anymore, darling. your pretty face is meant to smile.” he said, kissing you on the head. “say… what are the names of these demons?” he asked.

“aah… i don’t know… it was when i was in the carmine district…” you said, looking at alastor’s eyes. “don’t go after them.. you’ll start some sort of overlord war with ms. carmilla…” you frowned at his clear murderous intent

“i wouldn’t care for that at all, darling. a war with carmilla is the very least of my worries right now.” he rolled his eyes at your worry. “not when there are sinners who need to be taught a lesson.”

you leaned into alastor’s touch as he stroked your back comfortingly. “thank you, love…” you sighed. “i’ll always come through for you, darling. don’t ever question that.”

[literaila]

Ok but like i would love to see megumi tsumiki and reader reacting to gojo getting an undercut in your writing style

“what is that?”

satoru has only walked through the door, slipping off his shoes and trying to pretend like he didn’t know that you were all waiting for him.

so what if he was a bit elusive about his whereabouts? it’s supposed to be a surprise.

but you’re standing by the door, with your arms crossed. your face is almost pained.

satoru can’t help but laugh. “no, hello?”

“satoru,” you whine, going to inspect him. “why didn’t you say anything?”

tsumiki creeps up behind you, wanting to see what you’re complaining about. her eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of him, then her mouth curls.

“you got a haircut!”

“yup,” satoru pops, walking over to the two of you. he places a kiss on your forehead, ignoring your distraught face. “how do i look?”

“can i feel?” tsumiki asks, leaning up on her tiptoes to reach towards his head.

he leans down to accommodate her, grinning when she giggles at the feeling of his freshly shaved head. “it’s prickly.”

satoru wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug.

“a lot lighter too. what do you think, miki?”

“it’s pretty,” she’s still rubbing at his head, but satoru ignores the ticklish feeling. “are you going to keep it like this?”

“we’ll see,” satoru hums, looking to you. you’re still standing there, displeased.

tsumiki giggles and steps away, running back into the living room to continue doing whatever she was before he got home.

you don’t say anything, just stare at his head.

“do you like it?” he asks, leaning down until he’s inches away from you.

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“it’s a surprise. i was already out and i’ve been thinking about it…” his nose nudges yours but you don’t move. you’re basically a statue, just barely blinking at him. “and i didn’t think you were going to cry about my hair so—“

“i’m not crying.”

“are you sure?” satoru asks, leaning back with a pout. his hand lingers above your face, just brushing against your cheek. “look at those pretty eyes. already red.”

you slap it away. “i’m not crying over your hair. if i were crying,” you say, “which i’m not, it would be because of how ugly you are.”

“that’s just untrue.”

but satoru still pouts, his hand unconsciously going to rub at the bare skin by his nape. it’s a bit cold now.

you sigh. “why did you have to mess with your hair?”

“i didn’t realize it was my only appeal.”

you roll your eyes. “i just wished you’d have warned me. i expected a normal gojo to walk through the door—not a half bald one.”

“it’ll look the same when i take the blindfold off,” he argues. “and it’s not that much hair.”

“i can see your weird shaped head now,” your hand finally reaches up, grazing against his as you touch it. “why is it so soft?” you whisper, mostly to yourself.

satoru pouts again, though almost purring at the feeling of your hand. “so you don’t like it?”

you frown. then you ruffle the hair at the top of his head, still long as always.

“it’ll look the same with your glasses on?”

satoru rolls his eyes, despite himself, but nods.

“fine.”

“this is not the reaction i was expecting.”

you drop your hand, crossing your arms again. “and just what were you expecting?”

“oh, satoru, you’re so pretty,” he mocks, doing a terrible impression of your voice. “please send me a picture of your headshot. then sign it.”

you flick his forehead. “you don’t have a headshot, weirdo.”

satoru grins and pulls you in by your waist. it takes little effort and you don’t argue. “well, i’d take one if you asked.”

you roll your eyes again.

this then, satoru puts all his effort into his pout, frowning very seriously. “i didn’t think you’d be upset.”

“i just like your hair.”

“oh, it’s ruined now? you only care about my looks?”

you shrug. “probably. i mean, it’s not like your personality is doing anything.”

satoru scoffs, and you smile for the first time since he got home. “kidding,” you whisper, and kiss the bottom of his chin.

“i’ll never wear the blindfold around you, if you want.”

you sigh. “no. you’ll whine about it, and i’ll know anyway.”

“wow. you’re so supportive of me.”

“aren’t i?”

satoru shakes his head, but he smiles despite himself. you’ve never been the type to fond over him, or one to relent. honestly, he knows that just the fact that you’re letting him hold you is a good sign.

eventually, you shake your head at him. “i’ll get used to it, i guess.”

“oh great.”

“how long will it take to grow out?” you wonder, and you’re fully teasing now.

but before satoru can answer—with an appropriate snarky comment—megumi walks around the corner, holding a book in his hands.

“what’re you guys doing?” he asks, trying to look behind satoru to see if someone’s there.

“megumi,” satoru tilts his head at the boy. “do you like my hair?”

megumi gives him a once over, then frowns. “freak,” he mutters, and walks away.

and then later on you can’t stop staring at him because, um, wow. satoru will laugh at you once he realizes that your eyes are practically attached to him, making sure to mess with his hair every available second.

it’s the least he can do.

[merakiui]

I havent heard a lot about Android Jade, do you have any thoughts on that cutie??✨

Thinking,,,,, android Jade who is so fascinated with you when you're pregnant. He didn't quite understand the excitement or emotions surrounding the announcement when you and Azul realized you were expecting. Is it really so important? He can kind of understand it when Azul fusses over you and is always sending Jade or Floyd (or both twins) out to do the errands you used to run. Azul knows you're plenty capable, but he worries intensely and it's in his blood to plan for every outcome as a businessman. He just wants to make sure you carry to term and deliver a healthy baby. Besides, the androids can take care of the grunt work. Don't push yourself.

Jade didn't think it was such a big deal, but then you start showing and oh. It occurs to him you're carrying another human being in that belly of yours. Suddenly, the usually stoic android is reduced to the equivalent of a starry-eyed child on Christmas morning. He's so curious, even more so when your eating habits change dramatically. You crave all sorts of unique combinations and Jade's more than happy to prepare each one for you.

And then there are the emotions, so many of them, all happening in extremes. Some days you are effortlessly happy and bubbly, full of laughter. Other days you are miserable and gloomy, sobbing over how your favorite shirt no longer fits or how you're certain Azul thinks you're ugly or how you feel and look like a bloated whale! >_< Jade is amazed to witness each one of your moods, all of them just as genuine and perplexing to him. He approaches it tactfully, albeit terribly logical: "Of course your shirt no longer fits. You've grown to accommodate the baby, Master. That is natural." Or: "If Master Azul thought so, he would certainly say something. I may be unable to provide an adequate response, but I assure you he would never think such things. You should ask him." Or: "You are not a whale. You are a human." ^^;;; he may not be the best when it comes to empathy, but hearing his objective logic sometimes makes you feel better. It even manages to get you laughing.

Azul spends more time with you than he does at work. He refuses to leave you alone. Jade finds his nature...clingy. Incessantly clingy. When there is business that Azul absolutely must attend to, Jade sends him on his way and promises him that you are in good hands. Jade and Floyd will look after you. In fact, Jade almost wants Azul to stay at the office most days. Azul can be so greedy with your time. :/

Jade has always thought you were pretty, but now that he's looking at you, backdropped by flowers and radiating that fabled pregnancy glow in a soft maternity romper, he realizes you're absolutely beautiful. He can't stop staring. He stares when you're eating. When you're snotty and crying. When you're laughing. When you're frowning over old clothes. When you're rubbing lotions and oils onto your belly and whispering the sweetest things to the baby, singing the loveliest of lullabies. He stares when you're bathing. When you and Azul are making love. When you're eagerly putting the nursery together, painting the walls alongside Azul. And Jade realizes he wants to be there with you. Not in the shadows. Not as your servant but more. Maybe the concept is too human for him to dissect, but he thinks he wants what Azul has. He thinks he wants to be Azul.

He's not supposed to think. He's supposed to compute, assess everything through a logical lens and then act on the command.

Jade doesn't understand at first—the substance leaking from your breasts. He's silently amazed as he watches you grouse over it, complaining that you're sick of this always happening, that you're so tired and sore, that you wish Azul was here. Idia called him into work because it was important (i.e. investors were there for a meeting, and Idia doesn't like handling those aspects of work. Azul does it best). You're muttering under your breath as you shuck your shirt off and press it against your leaking tits: "I swear I'll strangle Idia the next time I see him! I'll seriously kick him in his knees. That ass—bad guy! Not-so-nice guy!" You correct yourself for the baby's sake. Jade thinks it's cute.

He offers to help even though he's not sure what he's meant to do. He's run through all of the data he's stored on this matter—on human lactation. Things doctors tell you. Things science tells you. He's not sure what he's doing when he sits down on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you to sit on his lap. He has you pull the shirt away so he can close his hands around your tits, his synthetic skin soft and warm against you. If you wanted to protest, you don't. You relax against his chest, sighing dreamily as he massages you. It's messy, thin trails of milk dripping from your teats, but it feels good. An utter relief. Jade is gentle and slow, an expert masseuse. You allow yourself to drift off, to be handled in this way. There's nothing to it. Just your android doing his duty in place of your husband. To Jade, it's everything. And he imagines Azul's dead and buried somewhere at the end of the world, and it's just you and Jade and the little one in your belly.

His hands are slick with milk in the aftermath. You're sleepy. You can barely stand with your eyes open, and he has to wonder if you're aware of how darling you are. He cleans you methodically, helping you into a new shirt. When you aren't looking, he licks a stripe up his palm to analyze the flavor and break down the components of...colostrum. That's what it is. Or, in simple terms, it's milk.

He's captivated, and he suspects he'll only be even more so as time trickles by.