#will hold her hand with his own trembling one

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seventeen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 4K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. PTSD, references and descriptions of domestic violence , grooming, manipulation, pregnancy. Simon's back story. Trauma. Bun opens up a bit more. Domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt. Simon is a nervous dad. Emotional confessions.

“It’s Beth.” Simon wipes the countertop, chasing little dirty fingerprints with a wet cloth, before fixing a hesitant set of eyes on yours.

“That’s pretty… I like it.” There’s something odd about his expression, something haunted almost, a deep, dark well filled to the brim with rancid, stagnant water. You sense it immediately. “What’s wrong?”

He motions to the chair and slides your mug into your waiting hands. “Sit.”

“Simon?”

“It was my sister in law’s name. My brother’s wife.” Was. Your throat goes dry, muscles tensing.

“Was?” He pulls your fingers into his, cradled in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin, over and over on a loop. A mechanism of comfort, connection. A thread stitch into the fabric between your heart and his.

“They died, sweetheart. My family… I lost them.” Grief, a shared experience you know now, froths in the pit of your heart. You tremble, he holds you steady, though it should be the other way around.

“What… what happened?” He sighs, dragging your palm to his lips.

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”

He holds you as he talks, diaphragm rumbling against your ear. You’re laid on his chest, unable to see his face, watch his expressions, but for this, you don’t feel the urge to dissect each one.

You’re content against him. Listening. Mourning.

There’s a swath of silence afterwards, and then he clears his throat. “So, I was dead. Dead until I met Johnny, I think. And then everything changed.” Johnny’s words from weeks and weeks ago make more sense, Simon’s actions and reactions rapidly gaining clarity. “When we found you, I saw it, the look in your eyes. It was the same one that used to haunt my mother’s.”

“You saved her.” He burrows his face in your neck and shakes his head.

“I did what I could to piece them back together. Helped get Tommy clean and on his feet, got rid of the old man for good, but the damage… the way she suffered, it was irreversible. The best I could do was be there as much as often as possible.” You comb through his hair, short strands of silk like Penny’s, and hold him close. “I promised myself, when I met Johnny, when we fell in love, I’d do better by my own family. For him, and then by Penny. And now you. Promised I wouldn’t become him.” Your heart clenches, squeezing in on itself. “Violence may have been a part of my job, but it wasn’t a part of me.” His fingers dance along your spine until they reach your chin, tilting you back to meet his gaze. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. He doesn’t need to ask for your trust, he already has it.

“Johnny thinks I’ve got a bit of a savior complex now, but I want you to know… that’s not what this is, bunny.”

“I know,” you clear your throat, fighting through the thick of emotion building there, accumulating in heaps, “I know that.”  

“But we do need to talk about him, you know that?” Darkness creeps along the wispy, dream-like cocoon the two of you built on the couch, and you push it away, try to banish it, basking in the comfort of his arms instead.

“I can’t, I… right now it feels like I’m in a dream where nothing hurts and nothing can scare me or hurt me, and I don’t-“

“You’re not in a dream, bunny. That’s your reality. This is real. Nothing can, or will, hurt you, scare you. No one will ever touch you again.”

“I need more time. Please.” Simon sighs, but doesn’t push, and the two of you lay there, together, suspended in comforting silence. For another moment, your world is a dream. A safe, beautiful dream, where happy endings are real, where love stretches on for eternity, unconditional, limitless, unbreakable.

You’re so different now, stark changes shocking to the girl you once knew, the one who doubled back on her routes to and from work, the one that walked everywhere with her hackles up. Little pieces of black rot now turned a blinding white, a brilliant beam seeking to shine on the whole of your life.

It’s a dream.

One you won’t easily surrender.

“I was really young.” It comes during a lapse in conversation, practically a blurt, an interruption pushing heat to your cheeks. Expelled from your mind, your body without choice, cracks appearing in the preservation that you’ve so defiantly clung to. You have to tell them, eventually. You have to break it all apart, let them see. Johnny’s mouth opens, and Simon’s hand darts to his wrist faster than a snake could strike, a clear signal. Don’t speak. “Obviously now, looking back on it, I realize I was groomed, or I guess, easily influenced. He was older, and I graduated early, started college early. I was in my second year when I turned eighteen. My mom,” the lump in your throat nearly chokes you until you swallow it down, “my mom busted her ass for me. I went to college on scholarships and her hard work.” Metal clanks against ceramic, forks settling on the edges of plates. “Anyway, everyone always thought I was a know-it-all and pretty awkward. We weren’t officially like, together right away but it was pretty serious from the day I met him. Eventually… he started to change me. Change my goals. He even manipulated my career path.”

“What did you go to school for?” Simon asks casually, head tilted.

“Bioscience. I wanted to be a doctor, so I thought it would transition well for med school. Thought I could become a surgeon.” You were a girl then; you know that now. Naïve, misguided by a hand that sought to control you, not love you as you hoped. It’s embarrassing, baring this, showing these broken bits and pieces to them, shattered shards of a mirror never glued back together.

“What happened?”

“He did.” Johnny squeezes your hand. “Made it to pre-med but ended up leaving and starting a nursing program instead. It’s what he wanted, and by then, I couldn’t say no.”

“But ye didnae want it, to be a nurse.”

“No. I didn’t. I love my job now, of course, and I’m happy in it, but originally, I wanted something else. He tricked me, in all honesty. Showed me something that wasn’t real, reeled me in, and then revealed his true colors.” You shudder. “The first time… the first time it happened, I shook it off, forgave him. I-“ the memory is still so strong, it stuns you. The blood from your busted lip is fresh on your tongue, sting on the side of your face turning to a blooming ache.

“Bunny?” Johnny’s grip moves to your elbow, strong, but not too tight. An anchor. You shake your head.

“Sorry.”

“Ye’re alright, ye can stop if-“

“No, I… I want to share these things with you. It feels like I’m supposed to, like you should know me… like this.”

“We already know you, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.” Simon’s tone is serious, and you nod.

“It’s embarrassing, looking back on it and realizing how bad it was, how bad I let it get. How I let him cut me off from everyone, change my career, squash me like a bug.” You laugh, but it’s empty.

“Ye did nothin’ wrong,” Johnny’s lips press together, muscles in his jaw straining, “was never yer fault.” You don’t answer, just trace the woodgrain of the table, texture moving beneath your fingers. The conversation is draining you, leeching light away like a horizon swallowing the last of the sun.

“He’s rich. Like, fuck you money rich. Rich like make problems go away rich, and his job…” your head shakes again. It’s the most you’ve ever said, heavy buried secrets finally dug up, resurrected, the truth trembles through your bones. “He has resources. Has chased me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I know you’ve said you’re not really sure, but did he ever tell you what his job entails?”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.” Johnny shifts in his seat, antsy, and you shrug. “He kept that part of his life very, very private. There was even a room in the house that was always locked.” Your head is heavy, lead upon your shoulders, and Johnny tucks his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“I know this is hard bun, but ye’re so brave for us. Lettin’ us know ye this way. I’m proud of ye.” He murmurs, lips to your forehead, and you fully relax, wrapping around his middle.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, eyes closing, and he rubs your back.

“Let’s get ye to bed then.”

“Your child is too big for me to carry!” You announce, hand on your hip, little backpack straps looped around your arm. Simon closes the door behind you, chuckling, and Penny plops onto the floor. She goes to a nursery day program now a few days a week, something that was a contentious subject in the house for far too long, opinions and arguments ping ponging over your head until the decision was finally made.

“It’s not safe.”

“Ye cannae keep ‘er locked up here forever, love.”

“Why not?” Simon bounced Penny against his chest, unimpressed look on both their faces, so alike you almost busted out laughing.

“Because she’s a child. She needs to be w’other children, not just us.” Johnny brings his free hand to his lips, squeezing Simon’s wrist. “I know ye’re scared.” Simon’s not the only one who’s scared, you thought. Phillip lurked at the edge of your mind, worry that he might find Penny plagued you, even though they both assured that wasn’t their main concern.

“She’s too little.”

“Simon. We agreed on this,” Johnny gives him a sharp look, “do yer research, find the best one. Ye know this needs to happen, for her. She needs to make friends, learn how to interact with kids her own age. Ye know this.”

“Fine.”

“She cannae be, not m’wee lamb.”

“She is.” You rub your shoulder. “Sheesh.” Penny’s stomach gurgles at your feet, and Simon grimaces.

“There’s a bug goin’ around the kids, teacher told me today.”

“Not surprising. Nurseries are little petri dishes.” You straighten your back, rolling your shoulder, and wince.

“Hurts?” Simon’s thumb digs into the soft spot there, and your lashes flutter.

“Maybe ye need a hot bath,” Johnny suggests, and Simon ushers the two of you up the stairs.

“I’ve got Pen. Go relax.”

“This is nice.” Johnny soaps your back, lavender and vanilla steam swirling around in the bathroom as you lean against him, his chest to your back.

“Aye.” The cloth drags across your chest, teasing your nipples, and you revel in his touch, soaking in every second he gives you, the brush of his cheek against yours, his lips on your neck. “Like havin’ ye all to myself sometimes.” You blink.

“Does it bother you? When we’re not all together?”

“No. Ye have a relationship wit’ me, and wit’ Simon, and we have a relationship all together. No one is the same. I like it.”

“Me too.” You settle again, loose and tender in the bath, soaped hands running up and down your back, kneading your shoulders, releasing the tension coiled in your bones. You groan.

“Feel good then?”

“Yeah.” He presses a hand over your heart with a deep breath, before he takes another.

And then one more.

“What’s wro-“

“I love ye bun. Wholly. Think ‘ve loved ye since the day I opened my eyes to ye leaning over the bed in hospital.” You turn, twisting to face him, and he dabs your nose with his thumb. “I dinnae have any expectations of ye, or yer feelings, but I had to be honest. I had to tell ye.” The confession fights its way forward, begging to be let out, to be freed.

Tell him. Tell him the truth. Tell him you love them, that they’re your light, that they’ve chased the darkness away and replaced it with the sun.

You can’t.

Instead, you rest your forehead against his, syncing your breathing, sharing the moment, holding onto him so tight in case he slips away.

“I can’t say it.” You whisper, and he nods. “But that doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“An’ that’s okay. I’ll wait, I’ll wait for ye as long as ye need.” There’s no pressure, no demands, just Johnny and his arms, his understanding and patience, his love.

You blink back tears and crash your lips to his. “Thank you.”

Your stomach is what wakes you.  

Something it in is burning, tossing bile around, the sensation strong enough your lips curl, and you try to draw a deep breath through your nose.

You wriggle, trying to pull free from where you’re tangled up in Simon and Johnny, carefully and slow, hoping to avoid waking them though you know even in their dreams, they sleep with one eye open.

 Still, you manage to make it to the bathroom before feet are padding across the carpet on your heels.

You sink to your knees in front of the toilet, stomach bubbling, sending the scorching remnants of dinner up your throat.

The door clicks open. “No, get out. I don’t want you to see-“ you gag again, tap turning on at the sink, a cold washcloth folding over your neck.

“Shhh,” Simon murmurs, rubbing your back, “get it all out.”

“Oh god,” another wave swells, and your muscles tense, body expelling bits of bile and not much else.

“That’s the way, good girl.”

“This is gross.” You gasp. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’ve seen way worse than you puking, sweetheart.”

“She alright?” Johnny half yells from the bedroom and you groan. The guilt of him having to maneuver himself out of bed, still not one hundred percent healthy, still not back to full strength, draws a shiver from your spine.

“I’m fine, don’t come in here!” Your stomach pitches, fingers tightening against your thighs, but nothing comes up, again and again, until everything settles and you’re breathing deeply, steady, back straight.

“Let’s get you some water.” There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s going to do what he wants to do when it comes to taking care of you, you know that now. It’s painfully clear as he tries to help you drink from the glass, and then puts toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I’m fine.” You assure weakly, but he only watches you, concerned.

“Think it’s the nursery bug?”

“Probably.” You sag, energy drained completely, and he steadies you, cupping your cheek. His touch is cool, and you lean into it, savoring the reprieve it brings against your throbbing temples.

“Want to go back to bed?”

“What if I throw up again?” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll jus’ clean it up.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You glance up at the timid mouse of a nurse, brand new, fingers clutched around a tablet like she’s drowning and it’s her life vest.

“What’s up?”

“Can you… can you look at these orders for me?” She looks terrified, and it tells you everything you need to know. She’s probably caught a mistake.

Baby nurses begin their careers in a delicate position. They’re overwhelmed, fresh off a whirlwind of orientation, overloaded with policy and procedure, and depending on their preceptor, either somewhat prepared or completely lost. Pitting a baby nurse against a provider, even a first-year resident, is like sending a lamb in to confront a lion. The result is usually tears.

She hands you the tablet and you spot it immediately. Incorrect dosage.

“Good catch.” You reassure, coaxing a small smile, and she nods.

“What do I do?”

“We go find the provider and clarify the dosage.” You’re not going to leave it up to her, alone, hang her out to dry and probably get run over by whatever moron ordered it in the first place, who happens to be-

Marshall.

Your eyes couldn’t roll any harder. “The pharmacy is also very on top of seeing errors like this, but it’s good you’ve noticed too, for the patient and yourself. Liability for things like this can be very tricky.” She nods again, trailing behind you, brand new squeaky sneakers echoing your own steps.

You can’t stop the sigh that escapes you when you find him, leaned up against a wall, arms crossed, smirking, cocking his head at your companion. “What’s up?”

“Can you take a look at this for me?” You purposefully zoom in on the meds tab, practically painting a bullseye around his error. He scoffs, defensive immediately, dismissive, before he takes a closer look, jaw clenched.

“That’s my mistake.” You blink. Marshall rarely ever takes responsibility so gracefully. Your eyebrow lifts.

“Care to fix it?”

“Of course.” His agreement is punctuated with a smile, though it’s off kilter.

“You can go,” you nod to the nurse, “good job.” Her eyes dart between you and Marshall, and without another word, scampers off.

“She’s new?” His usual interest in new nurses is less enthusiastic than ever.

You hate Marshall. He’s a scumbag. But he’s also been your coworker since day one, and you can’t help yourself. “What’s up with you?”  

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never owned up to a mistake that quickly, and you didn’t even make some smart-ass remark. Or berate her. Or give me an attitude.” He winces.

“It’s nothing.” But it doesn’t seem like nothing. It seems like something is wrong, like he’s sad, or depressed, and try as you might, your bleeding heart can’t walk away.

“What’s wrong.” You phrase a statement, a demand, instead of a question, and he blows a frustrated breath.

“It’s… I’m seeing someone.” Your eyes go wide.

“Who?” Please don’t say a nurse, please don’t say a nurse, please-

“Anna. From radiology.”

“Oh my god. The cupcake girl?” Anna was a fan favorite. Not only was she kind, but she was also quick with her reads, and baked cupcakes for the entire floor almost once a month. As far as radiologists go, she was better than most.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

“I really like her but… she’s always been aware of my reputation and is trying to take it slow. Too slow.” You could lecture him with a million reasons why she’s in the right, but it doesn’t seem like he’s got the resolve to handle it.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dragging her feet. Doesn’t want to hang out more than once a week, rarely stays the night. I’ve been to her place a handful of times, but that’s it.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two months.” You laugh.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a long time for me!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but seriously. Two months is no time at all. Have you discussed the… reluctance with her?” He seems uneasy, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you enjoy watching him squirm.

“Yeah. She says she’s happy, but isn’t trying to jump into anything,” his air quotes carry a whiff of the condescending asshole you know too well. This conversation couldn’t be timelier, and you think back to what you told Johnny the other night.

“Just because she’s taking it slow doesn’t mean her feelings for you aren’t there. You have to respect that. If she’s still putting up with you after two months, I’d bet she’s just being cautious. Getting hurt sucks.” He nods thoughtfully. “Give her the time she’s asking for, and don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.

The sentiment twists a knife lodged deep in your heart. Is that what will happen to you? Will they give up? Get tired of waiting for you to spill all your secrets, get tired of waiting for you to take the final step? To tell them you love them?

Get tired of waiting for you to let them use your real name?

“I didn’t expect her, didn’t expect to feel this way.” The mask comes down, revealing a hopelessly lovesick heart, the depth of it shining in his eyes.

“I don’t think anyone ever does expect it. That’s the surprising thing about love, I guess.” You sway, a palm pressed to the wall as your hand flattens over your stomach.

“You alright?” Marshall’s voice is far away as you breathe through your nose, trying to fend off the nausea tightening your throat.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit under the weather. Think I’ve got a bug or something.” Your stomach roils in warning, and you barely grit out an apology before dashing away.

Just in time to toss your breakfast up in the toilet.

“I’m fine.”

“I heard you in the toilet. You didn’t sound fine, and you shouldn’t be working if you’re sick.” Your manager shakes her head like she’s disappointed, and you glare. You both know if you had called this morning talking about a stomach bug, she would have told you to suck it up unless you were actively vomiting.

“Look around. Do you see an excess of nurses on the floor?”

“We’ll manage. Or call someone in.” You shake your head.

“We’re already way past policy ratios.” You bite your tongue when safe nearly slips out, not wanting to piss her off. That’s the union’s job.

“At least go sit down or something. Take a break. Come back in twenty minutes and let me know how you feel.”

Your closet is cozy, and for once during the day, unoccupied. The nausea has subsided, for now, and you shoot a text to the guys, asking about Penny. If you feel like this, you can’t imagine how she feels.

You curl up and imagine you’re home instead, maybe in bed with a sleeve of crackers and some soda, warm chest at your back, a hand stroking over your hip. Maybe you’d have some soup, maybe the three of you would watch a movie after Pen went down for bed. You start to drift in the domestic fantasy, sleeping curling itself like a blanket over your shoulders, until you’re startled by the vibration of your phone, foot kicking forward in a jolt against a shelf.

A box falls to the floor.

HCG strips.

You stare at it for a long time, numbers and dates and weeks mashing together, calculations getting lost in the fray.

You’re not…

No.

Ridiculous. Not even possible. You’re on the pill. Religiously.

You have the nursery bug that Pen brought home. Get a grip.

Still…

You use the fifth-floor bathroom, one of the only single occupant toilets in the whole damn hospital, nausea now coming from a completely different source.

The timer on your phone is incredibly slow, or maybe it’s just time itself, the world turning in slow motion, every second elongated into turbulent silence, too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much of everything to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Panic.

Sadness.

Grief.

It’s grief that is the strongest. Grief for something that Phillip stole, mourning for something that was once so close, so real, and then gone in an instant.

If you close your eyes, you can still feel his boot in your stomach. The press of a steel toe, jammed beneath your ribs, wild, deranged eyes staring down at you in a rage.

But-

Buried so, so far beneath the crushing weight of it all, there is a bright little pocket of sunshine. A small little sliver of light, beams of hope stretching for the sky, warmth spilling over until your hands tremble with the conflict warring inside you.

Nothing has changed, but everything could.

The timer goes off with a shrill chime, and you lean over the sink to where the small strip sits on top of a cup.

A bold pink line.

And then another, more faint, but certainly there. A simple equation, one plus one equals two. Simple math.

Tangible. Present.

Pregnant.

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where the reader is pregnant but in like the early stage and doesnt know she is pregnant yet, she is experiencing morning sickness AGAIN and katsuki takes care of her. she goes to take a test and is positive but doesnt know how to tell him

You wake up feeling that all-too-familiar nausea bubbling in your stomach again. For the past week, mornings had become your worst enemy. At first, you thought it was a bad batch of food or a stomach bug, but this was the fifth day in a row you had sprinted to the bathroom the moment you opened your eyes.

Slumping over the toilet, you groaned, head resting against the cool ceramic. Your body felt drained, and your stomach was still queasy.

"Oi, you in here?" Katsuki’s voice came from behind you.

You barely lifted your head as he walked into the bathroom. His eyes softened, concern immediately washing over his face.

"Again?" he muttered, kneeling down beside you. He gently pulled your hair back and rubbed slow circles on your back. “I thought you were over this crap. Been almost a week now.”

You nodded weakly. “I don’t know… maybe it’s something I ate? But nothing’s off… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He let out a grunt, not entirely convinced. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to freak out, but you could tell he didn’t like seeing you like this. His hands lingered on your back, trying to provide you some comfort.

"You think you should go see a doctor?" he asked, his voice lower now.

You shook your head. "I’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll pass today."

Katsuki was silent for a moment before helping you up. "Here, drink some water. Get yourself together. If this doesn’t stop, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor tomorrow." His tone was gruff but filled with genuine worry.

You chuckled softly, taking the glass of water from him. "Thanks, Katsuki. You’re sweet when you want to be."

He clicked his tongue. "Yeah, whatever."

As the morning went on, you felt slightly better, but something about it kept gnawing at you. The sudden sickness, the fatigue, the strange cravings you’d been having the past week. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions, but there was one thing that kept crossing your mind.

Could I be… pregnant?

The thought alone sent a jolt through your body. You and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been trying, but you hadn’t been overly cautious either.

You excused yourself and slipped out to the drugstore nearby, your heart racing as you picked up a pregnancy test. Back home, you took a deep breath, staring down at the little plastic device. Waiting for those couple of minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, there it was. Positive.

You stared at the result, blinking rapidly, trying to process it.

Pregnant. I’m… pregnant.

The excitement and fear clashed within you. Your mind raced, wondering how Katsuki would react. He wasn’t the most expressive person when it came to emotions, but you knew how much he loved you. Would he be ready for this? Were you ready for this?

You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the test in your hands, trying to think of how to tell him. You couldn’t just blurt it out. Your heart pounded as you imagined his reaction.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Katsuki stepped in, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Why the hell are you just sitting there like that?" he asked, crossing his arms. “You’re all weird today.”

You bit your lip, your hands trembling slightly as you hid the test behind your back. "Katsuki, I… I have something to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What is it? You’re being all weird again. What the hell is going on?”

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage you had. Slowly, you revealed the test, holding it out to him. His eyes flicked from you to the test, his face going from confusion to shock in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "Wait… are you serious?" he asked, his voice much softer than usual.

You nodded, your own emotions threatening to overflow. “Yeah… I think I’m pregnant.”

He remained silent for a moment, just staring at the test as if he couldn’t believe it. Then, slowly, a smile began to form on his face—a real, genuine smile, the kind you didn’t get to see often. He knelt down in front of you, resting his forehead against your stomach gently.

"You’re pregnant," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "We’re gonna have a kid."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you placed your hands on his head. You nodded, your heart swelling with love and joy. "Yeah, we’re gonna have a kid."

For the first time, Katsuki’s tough exterior cracked, and you could see the pure happiness in his eyes. His hand rested on your stomach, and he looked up at you, his expression soft and full of emotion.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low. "I’m gonna take care of you… both of you."

And just like that, you knew that everything was going to be okay. You were both in this together, and no matter what, Katsuki would be by your side, ready to face this new chapter with you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[yiiyiiwrites]

🍁 | Autumn Equinox | Azriel

Summary: you’ve been mated to Azriel for over a year now, but it’s your first time celebrating the autumn equinox outside your home court. Azriel tries his best to make it a good one 2075words

Azriel x Autumn court reader

Also Have one for [Cassian] & [Eris] & Lucien coming soon

[Acotar masterlist]

The autumn equinox used to be your favourite celebration, now it just reminded you of everything you’d lost. A bitter sweet holiday you wasn't sure if you could do each year.

You may have gained your fated lover, your other half but you’d given up your home and family.

There wasn’t any other way, you knew that. The moment you’d stumbled upon the shadow singer in the golden forests of autumn was the final fraying thread snapping.

If you didn’t hurt Azriel by your own hands, Beron would make an example of you and use you in what ever way to break the bond. To snuff out any flickering ember that remained for your mate.

So you were as sly as a fox, crawling under the overgrown hedges of molten brown thorns keeping you in the court.

Your mother understood, she packed your things as sobs shook her whole body. Even now as you closed your eyes, you could smell the tendrils of her smokey caramelised scent and the undertones of cinnamon washing over you as if she were embracing you for the last time again.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You opened your eyes, dark wisp falling away from caressing your cheek. For a moment you imagined the touch of your mother's hand warming your cheek.

Azriel sighed as you sunk into his embrace, his presence more frequent the days leading to the equinox. You’d refused to hold him the first few days after you caught the mark on the calendar, afraid your touch would burn him.

Velaris offered a similar bout of weather that reminded you of home. The nights growing longer, colder and you were thankful there was still a little scrap of heritage you could clutch onto.

Your magic however seemed to be like a fizzling firework in the night court. Touch running hot and cold, that you didn’t stand close to your mate for months as you got used to the warmer seasons.

The restraint you’d built since your arrival dulled your flames. You no longer needed to apologise for scorching holes in Azriel’s sleeve or slapping the fiery embers from the fabric a bit too harshly as you tried to it stop marring his skin.

In the beginning he’d gifted you a pair of leather gloves, but that increased the distance between you both. You wondered why the gods had strung you two together in the beginning, everything you were, summoned painful memories for Azriel. The simple action of holding his hand reminded you why, why you needed to cage the flame to offer him a semblance of the same affection he gave to you.

"I have something for you," he said, nose tracing your jaw and pulling you out of your thoughts.

The cold crept in as he slipped away, the winter breeze pushing the stray strands of hair out out of your face. You breathed in, another wave of smokey scents and sweet aromas tipped with oak prickling the warmth beneath your fingertips. Turning around to meet your mate, you took a step back.

In his gloved hands laid a whicker hamper, tartan blanket sticking out of the box. You gasped, adding another step back. No wonder you could smell their scents. "You saw my mother?" Your voice trembled, hands diving into your coat pocket, fists clenching as you tried to expel the overpowering scents that even mingled with his shadows.

He nodded, ever the cool and controlled mate, never raising his voice or moving too fast as if he'd spook a fox in Autumn. "Yes, it's customary to exchange gifts," Azriel said, pulling the blanket out of the hamper and rolling it out on the ground, he stilled. "Isn't it?" His hazel eyes snapped up to yours, shadows freezing under the curve of his wings.

You couldn't fight the smile, nodding down at him kneeling beside the hamper. He patted the space opposite him and that damned tether tugged you closer. "Yes Az, exchanging gifts are customary but I did not get my family any." You didn't see the point, there was no way you'd be able to step in Autumn without dire consequences.

"That's fine, I did." He shrugged, laying a pumpkin pie in front of you, steam curling off the brown pastry.

A tradition in your family to gift handmade presents to each other during the autumn equinox. Your mothers famous, pumpkin pie, honey tea and spiced apples.

"You got gifts for my family?" You asked, scooting closer to Azriel who didn't offer you a glance, his attention on the contents in the hamper. "What did you get my father?" You leant forwards dipping your head and tried catching his gaze. "My father hates you and you gave him gift?"

"I got him a hunting knife." He said it like it was the most logical thing, as if your father would not be thinking of gutting him with it. His shadows seemed to follow your line of thought, a dark wisp pushing you back to sit.

"Is that why you met with my mother instead?" You laughed, even though you wanted to cry at the thought of your mate stepping into autumn for a spec of your happiness and his own demise.

Azriel finally let his gaze fall on you, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Always searching you before he decided what words to choose. "You're mother actually requested for me." His ears tinged a darker shade, hand scratching the back of his neck.

It was odd to think of your mother with him, you knew she'd be gentle and careful in her approach. Something you thought Azriel didn't receive much of in way of interaction. You also wondered what she thought of your mate, hoping she didn't worry and didn't judge alone from his stony features.

The grey cable knit sweater (the one you'd knit him last year) hugged his muscular arms, bicep flexing at his movement that you forget for a second what he said. A wave of your mother's scent hit you like a whip and brought you back.

"How the Gods does my mother manage to request your presence?"

"Well, she knows a lady in winter, that knows a lady in day and knows..." he trailed off the sentence, stumbling over his words trying to grasp the order of whatever your mother had told him. Trust your mother to use her network of gossips to send word to Velaris in order to find your mate.

"And how many ladies do you know?"

"Many," he smirked leaning in to you, "the only lady that matters is you though." His lips pressed against yours, warmth spreading through your chest as his hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer.

You smirked, storing away the memory so that you could show Feyre later and make your mate sweat about his duties to a high lady that didn't matter.

"Smooth, I bet my mother saw right through you." You said, tracing your swollen lips. You leant across Azriel's lap and plucked a ruby red apple from the hamper, teeth sinking into the shiny skin.

"Your mother probably thinks we're an equal match. How many guards did you court till you made it to me?" His lip twitched, fingers pinching your thigh for another swift attack. You swatted him way, squealing as his shadows skimmed the small slip of skin where your top had rode up over your hip.

It were true, you'd worked your way through nearly every division of the autumn army in the hopes of finding someone who wasn't just focused on following the high lords every word. What else were you supposed to do for five hundred years?

"I'd be quiet if I were you, recon I could get a rank higher than you back in autumn.” You swatted the curling wisps out of your face, sending them hissing back to their master.

"I doubt your mother would approve."

You didn’t argue with him on that, knowing that your mother was never fond of any suitor you’d brought home before.

“I take it these are from them?” You asked, lifting a small wooden box out of the hamper. A yellowing envelope stuck to the lid and sealed with red wax. You ripped the letter and scanned over your mother’s cursive writing.

The usual sentimental words she’d say to you around the table whilst you thanked the gods of harvest for giving you all good things and planting new seeds of regrowth and learning. At the very bottom below her signature however was a blurred splotchy mess, as if she’d written it last minute and folded the paper.

I hope this equinox brings you many blessings and offers you new fields to plant your own seeds. May you nurture the connection between you and your fated. My daughter you’ve been blessed, as have I now that I know you will be loved and safe.

Azriel peered over your shoulder, “I think she likes me,” he said, cutting a second piece of pumpkin pie and shoving it in his mouth.

“Just thank the stars you didn’t meet my father.” Now that you were banished from autumn, you doubted that you’d see him again. Too proud of his home to step out of tradition.

He hummed in agreement, pouring a cup of honey tea and setting it down in front of you. The view from the house of wind's balcony was your favourite, always bringing a smile to your face and reminding you that you could find beauty in any court. You did miss Autumn, but Velaris had grown on you, the constant stars blinking in the inky sky each night.

A small fire flickered in a homemade pit, copper bowl keeping it contained. Peeling the overlapping cloth, you traced the knitted mittens. Charcoal grey yarn that looked like liquid mercury woven together with softer orange, the two colours a symbol of your union with Azriel. Picking them up from the box, you slipped them into your pocket, freezing as something dropped out of one the mittens. A dark wisp dove out from its owner and caught the small object.

The shadows held it up and twisted it in front you, a fox figurine carved from wood and painted orange and beige. Tiny brushstrokes imitating fur, looking oddly like the fox you had as a child. A gift from your younger sister, you'd left your other figurines back in Autumn and hated yourself for it ever since. Least you had one now.

Azriel was silent as ever, watching you intently.

"My mother didn't give you anything? I mean I know I am gift enough Az," you said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder to yours.

His head dipped, Shadows concealing his face. "She did, wouldn't let me leave till I finished a pumpkin pie she made. Your sister made me a little fox of my own." Thats when you noticed the tiny wood carved fox pendent on a thin string around his neck, dark ink peeking out underneath it.

"Oh god's Az, don't let your enemies hear you say that. If that's all it takes." And by the looks of it, he'd enjoyed it so much, he was half way through the pumpkin pie from the hamper.

Cool metal met your fingertips as you lifted the cloth again, your reflection staring back at you in the silver blade. "I take it this gift is for both of us," you joked, Azriel picked it up and turned the hilt in his hand. A red stone embedded in the pommel, a scripture you couldn't quite make out on the hilt.

"Hunting knife, a few centuries old," he said glancing at your furrowed brows. "Look the hilts worn, the leather binding it, is coming away. Blade needs sharpening too, must have been in your family for a long time." He passed the knife back, blade pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

You wrapped it back in the cloth, sandwiching it between the thick layers. "No idea why he'd give me that old thing," you mumbled, slamming the box shut. You were never one to use a knife, more inclined to using your magic and merging it with autumn's fighting techniques.

"No idea, just don't gut me with it in my sleep."

"Never," you gasped. "Just remember good behaviour or its a blunt blade my dear."

Since its nearly autumn equinox I wanted to do some prompts for it :) there's other characters to come - Yiiyii

[rainybubbles]

I need a whole story with Ghost and arranged marriage.

(and hybrids, I love the AU of the fandom about hybrids 141)

Something slow burn, angst where the reader is confident, but with social anxiety, maybe a f!reader?

She's a sacrifice, about to be married to another duke. But here comes a duchy long forgotten, tucked away in the shadow of the mountains, ruled by a mysterious Duke no one had seen in years.

A Ghost.

His name was Simon Riley, a widower, burdened with loss and cloaked in rumors. They said his heart was as dead as his wife, that a curse had taken not only her but every bit of warmth that could ever live in him. And so, when the black carriage came for you, no one in your village dared to offer you comfort.

You were the sacrifice—the black sheep sent to marry the Duke, an arranged match born out of fear, not love. Your family had seen you as expendable, a lamb to slaughter to secure their own futures.

You were confident in your spirit but burdened with the knowledge that your body didn’t fit the delicate mold others expected. (no one had courted you)

You never thought yourself beautiful, never thought you could inspire anything but pity or rejection. But it didn’t matter, did it? You weren’t meant for love. You were meant to survive.

When you arrived at the Duke’s castle, the silence that greeted you felt heavy, as if the very stones were holding their breath.

Simon Riley stood before you, a towering figure wrapped in shadows, with eyes that seemed carved from stone—cold, distant, and full of secrets.

He did not look at you the way men often did; there was no curiosity, no warmth, no appraisal. Instead, he seemed to be waiting, as if bracing for some inevitable end.

He didn't marry you for love, but because of his curse. Simon was fated to die within a year, and he needed someone to care for his kingdom and use their connections to maintain peace with other realms.

His people were not human, at least not fully. The hybrids, part-beast, part-man, served him with loyalty forged from some unspoken bond. There was Soap, whose wolf-like nature caused him to prowl the castle grounds in restless energy. Gaz, whose wings glinted like silver in the moonlight, was ever watchful, guarding the castle’s gates. And Price, the fiercest of them all, his dragon wings scorched from endless battles, often returned to you for healing.

You became their caretaker, stitching their wounds, reading old texts on werewolves to understand Soap’s habits, and joking with Gaz’s children when they visited.

Slowly, you found your place in this strange, otherworldly family.

And yet, Simon remained distant, an enigma wrapped in silence and sorrow.

He never sought your company, never looked for you, never asked for more than the duty of your presence.

He was a Duke, cursed and broken, and you were his sacrifice, meant to ensure his survival, not his happiness.

Days turned into months, and the weight of your loneliness pressed into your chest like a slow, relentless ache. You gave and gave—your time, your care, your heart—until you had little left for yourself. And one night, it became too much.

The walls of your room, once a sanctuary, closed in on you, and you cried. The sobs came softly at first, but then they grew louder, filling the quiet darkness with your grief, your exhaustion, your sense of never being enough.

Simon heard you.

He came to you in the dead of night, silent as a shadow, and found you curled up in the corner, tears staining your cheeks. He knelt beside you, his hand trembling as he reached for you, as if he wasn’t sure how to touch something so fragile. When his fingers brushed your skin, it was like a shiver of warmth had broken through the icy armor he wore.

“It means nothing,” he whispered, his voice rough and deep. He was speaking to himself as much as to you. “Comforting you means nothing.”

But his hands told a different story. He cradled you gently, pulling you into his chest, and for the first time, you felt his heart beating against yours. He held you, whispering words you couldn’t fully understand, telling himself that this was just duty, that you were just another sacrifice for his throne. But you both knew the truth.

He had fallen.

Bit by bit, Simon let you in, let you see the man behind the Duke, the man who had lost so much. He had never hoped for love—not after losing his wife, not after the curse had taken everything from him. But there you were, taking care of his people, offering comfort without expecting anything in return. And in the quiet moments, when you would tend to Price’s wings or read to Soap, Simon would watch you, a strange ache building in his chest.

He had fallen, and it was too late.

But Simon’s curse was not the only one. Another hybrid, König, appeared at the castle one day, his presence unsettling. He was larger, more menacing than the others, and his eyes lingered on you in a way that made your skin crawl. There was something in his gaze, something dark and possessive, that told you he was not just another visitor.

And then, you were gone.

On the day Simon was to meet his death—a death foretold by the curse—you were not there. He searched for you, frantic, the coldness of his impending doom creeping up his spine. But you were nowhere to be found.

König had taken you, hoping to break the curse for himself, hoping to claim you as his own. But what König didn’t know, what no one knew, was that you had the power to break the curse—not just for Simon, but for another. You were the key, the sacrifice whose heart could unlock the chains binding these cursed men.

But Simon… Simon had already decided.

He would not let you sacrifice yourself again. He had watched you give and give until there was nothing left for yourself. He had heard your cries in the dead of night, felt the weight of your despair. And now, he was ready to curse himself—for you. He was ready to bind his heart to yours, to live an eternity of torment, meeting you again and again across lifetimes if that’s what it took. He would endure the curse, relive the pain, as long as it meant you would be free.

And as Simon drew his last breath, his heart shattered—not from the curse, but from love. His love for you, the woman who had given so much, the woman he had fallen for too late.

And in the distance, far from the castle, you felt it. The weight of his sacrifice. The bittersweet ache of love lost, of a heart cursed not by magic but by fate.

You wept, not for yourself, but for him—for the man who had loved you in silence, in shadows, and in sacrifice. And as the winds whispered through the mountains, carrying his name on the air, you knew he was gone.

But Simon… Simon would return.

Again and again, across lifetimes. Searching for you. Loving you.

Even if it was too late.

Centuries later, he stood frozen, eyes locked on the new translator stepping onto the base. Your smile was polite, a stranger's greeting, but his heart ached as the weight of lifetimes crashed over him.

"You're back," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Yet, your eyes held no recognition—you didn’t remember him.

Yeah, I need a fic like that. 10 chapters, where I cry because damn, this man deserves happiness and so does the reader...

And bonus if the reader is on the fat, chubby side , because I need to see more of that.

[domoz]

CW for suffocation (of someone else)

Getting an Uchiha trapped in a genjutsu is as difficult as it sounds.

Touka has learned that there's no point in changing what see ages ago. She's good enough that they won't notice the difference without a sharingan, but the moment it's on they'll break it. If they're on edge -- and Izuna Uchiha certainly is -- they'll turn it on for anything. His eyes turned red thirty minutes ago, when some animal made enough noise to startle him and haven't been off since.

So Touka hasn't put anything in his path that might tip him off. Her genjutsu is all subtle -- her own sounds muffled as she trails him though the autumn woods and one of the mildest disorientation genjutsus that exist. It's not enough to make him off balance, but just enough to have him listing to one side as he walks. On top of that, if she's laid it right, he should only think it's been five minutes instead of the half an hour it's taken for her to lead him away from the rest of his squad.

He clearly knows that something is wrong by now, recognizes that he's been turned around but can't quite seem to pinpoint how. He won't take more than a few steps now before he pauses to look around. Forward progress has slowed to a crawl, Izuna isn't getting any further away from backup, and sooner or later they're going to come looking for him -- if he doesn't realize that someone is trying to catch him first.

Touka had more-or-less assigned herself this mission after her last spar with Tobirama. She has no support here, and not much confidence that she can win a one-on-one fight. It's hard work to shave a win off of Tobirama on the best of days, and he usually doesn't try to actually kill her.

She pushes all of the air out of her lungs with a silent whoosh, hands coming up to form the signs, slow and precise, of one of her own techniques.

It's a funny thing, breathing. Automatic until you think about it, and then it's all you can focus on. In a middle of a stressful situation, it's common to not realize that you've stopped. The darkness that creeps into the edge of your vision is slow, and without the feeling of discomfort, it's almost too easy to forget that you've stopped doing it.

If Izuna realizes something has happened he'll be onto her for certain, but he's not breathing now.

Twenty seconds. Thirty. Sixty. His movements start to slow, his blinking goes sluggish, and red eyes fade to black. Lack of air impairs judgement too, but she can't trust that he won't realize something is wrong at any moment.

Sweat beads at Touka's brow. She doesn't use this technique often, hasn't had the chance to practice and refine it to a more workable chakra cost. Her own hands tremble as she holds the threads of all the genjutsu she's woven. One more.

Touka has never heard of an Uchiha being fooled by a henge of one of their own clanmates before, but she risks it anyways. Any good genjutsu master spends time observing their enemies, but there's one Uchiha she has more material on than the others, and her only stroke of luck in this whole endeavor is that he was among the group she'd lured Izuna away from.

Hikaku Uchiha's skin feels tight on her, but with she shakes it off with the ease of practice, rolls her shoulders, and steps out from behind the cover of her tree. Izuna doesn't react to the sound of her steps right away -- a good sign.

"Izuna-sama." She's short of breath herself, when her voice comes out as Hikaku's it sounds like he's been running, "We've been looking all over for you. Why are you out here?"

"I was, uh… Patrol…?" His eyebrows furrow as he uses up the last of his air.

"Are you alright?" It's easy enough to feign concern, and Izuna only blinks in confusion when she puts her hands on his shoulders.

He only puts up a token resistance as she kicks his legs out from under him and pushes him face down in the dirt. The shock of it breaks all of her genjutsu at once, and she lets the henge drop for good measure, all focus now on getting his arms and legs tied. He wheezes underneath her, not able to get the full breath she's sure he desperately wants with her full weight between his shoulders.

Wrists are tied, then elbows, ankles then knees. She cuts a long bandage into strips and covers his eyes and mouth, too. Only once she has the Uchiha properly hogtied does she roll him over and start removing weapons

He's still taking heaving breaths, around the gag. He twitches when she reaches out to pat one cheek.

"Hey, me catching you here is better than the other thing was going to happen to you. We're all lucky I pulled this off, really."

Izuna shakes his head as violently as her ties will allow. He doesn't get it, probably wouldn't believe her even if she told him Tobirama has finally found his way to beat the sharingan, but that's fine. If they play their cards right, he'll never have to know at all.

[blu3n]

(.taking care of your mind.)

# Cw : Jason p. Todd × reader angst. Fluff

# wc : ( I really didn't count it must be over a thousand words.)

# An : I studied this problem, I lived with someone like this and I say that you are not prepared to go through this.

Reactions - Circumstances that bring back memories of the trauma may trigger physiological symptoms, including sweating, nausea, and tremors. Avoidance behavior - avoiding places, people, and activities that bring back painful memories. The person may also be unable to remember or talk about the event.

note: image is not mine

good reading!

As a consequence of having parents who neglected him for most of his life, he never received what we had (the love of his parents), the kind of love that a person needs, the kind of love that makes you feel safe and protected.

At the same time, parents play a fundamental role in their children's lives as guides, teaching them how to behave in society. Teaching values, such as treating their family well and being empathetic individuals.

Undoubtedly, when the most important person in your life is not present, do you feel lost? Or does your own mother sell her own fruit of love and care to a villain who is ready to torture you for money?

Perhaps most of his trauma came from his parents, having to fend for himself since childhood and becoming a delinquent. What would have happened to him if he had learned to steal and had never known Batman?.

The consequences of his past led to PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), and Jason urgently needed to escape that reality, where every second, the memories tormented him, making him feel again in his skin the pain of each stab, the force of each blow, each laugh, each mockery.

"Shut up, shut up," he cried out to his own inner demons, begging them to spare him from so much pain and misery that he heard and felt every night. his sobs were cut off in his throat, the poor sight of his mother selling him like he was something to be traded hurting more and more. "Please, no", her sobs cut through the night.

Today was the hardest day. You felt nothing but the cold, dark bed beside you. You run your hands over your face, tired, getting out of bed, knowing it could have been that day.

Getting out of bed, Catalina looks around the room.

"Jason." Her voice was soft, gentle as a feather; she needed this.

He was having another post-traumatic stress disorder episode, an anxiety attack.

His eyes trembled in front of all that scene; it seemed like he was going through mental torture. Huddled in a corner, you could observe his involuntary shakes.

Jason was huddled in a corner of the room, his legs pulled against his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. His head rested on his knees as involuntary shakes coursed through his body, as if he were fighting against inner demons.

His breathing was rapid and shallow, as if he were constantly holding his breath. His eyes were open, but they seemed to look through you, as if they were trapped in a personal nightmare.

You had no idea what to do, you were afraid to get closer and he would end up making things worse. You were afraid not to get closer and he would think you didn't love him anymore. But you knew one thing: you HAD to get him out of his panic state. How? You didn't know.

you had a mental map of how to act with him, Googling so you can help your boyfriend.

1. (Keep calm) : Your calmness can help the person feel more secure. Try to speak in a soft, encouraging tone of voice.

2. Provide a safe space : Ask him if he would like to move to a quieter or more comfortable place where he can feel safer..

3. ( Listen actively) : If the person wants to talk, listen without judging. Sometimes just having someone to vent to can be a huge relief.

5. (Use grounding techniques ): Help her reconnect with the present. You might suggest that she take deep breaths, count objects around her, or describe what she sees and hears.

6. ( Avoid pressing) : Don’t force the person to talk or face their emotions right away. Give them space and time to process what they’re feeling.

8. ( Take care of yourself ) : Dealing with someone in crisis can be emotionally draining. Don't forget to take care of your own mental health too.

Even knowing this, the care would still be more delicate when taken in action, you wouldn't be prepared for when Jason exploded, you have no idea what it's like to live with a person with this trauma.

but with patience and effort, damn, you did all that? you won Jason over, seeing that you were there to help him even when he was at his worst he would try to improve even though it wasn't his fault.

I believe Jason would cry on your shoulder when he spent this episode lamenting how much of a burden he was to you. But you would be patient, patient, and patient and explain everything to him again as many times as necessary to make it clear that it was your choice to be there with him, loving him and protecting him from his own nightmares.

#blu3n

The end.

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter Three

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Three: The Red Keep

Word Count: 4,146

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daella faces the true dangers of the city, and a terrifying encounter leaves her questioning everything she once knew about her safety. As danger closes in, a familiar figure comes to her rescue, but their appearance only deepens the mysteries surrounding her past.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

Daella of King's Landing

Daella froze as the men inched closer, her feet sinking into the muddy ground as if the earth itself conspired to hold her captive. There was nowhere to go. Their leering gazes crawled over her trembling form, and she finally understood the true dangers of King’s Landing. She had walked these streets before, stepping over pools of blood and freshly cut bodies, never once caring because it hadn’t been her blood, her body. Trouble had always kept its distance—after all, who would care about a bastard like her? But now, as these men closed in, she realized that there were those who simply didn’t care. To them, she wasn’t a person, just a young girl ripe for the taking.

She screamed as she hit the ground, the impact softened by the mud, but sharp pain flared as her head snapped back. The world swam before her eyes, fogging her vision. She kicked out desperately, but their laughter only grew louder, taunting her.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a fighter, lads,” one of them jeered, kneeling over her, his weight pinning her down. His rough hands tore at her nightdress, pulling it apart. Daella squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, praying someone—anyone—would hear her. Her voice grew raw with terror, tears streaming down her face, but his laugh cut through her cries. “Keep going, I like it when they scream.”

Suddenly, silence. The only sound was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her ragged breathing. A heavy weight collapsed on top of her, and she felt something wet and warm soak through the remains of her dress. She opened her eyes and stared into the lifeless, terror-stricken face of the man who had just been on top of her—his head severed from his body. She scrambled out from beneath the decapitated corpse, her limbs trembling as she stood and stared at the growing pool of blood.

A choked gurgle drew her attention further down the road. Daemon stood over another man, wrenching his sword from the man’s gut. Daella’s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the five bodies now littering the path between her and the man who claimed to be her father. Five men dead. Their evil wiped from the world. A strange, cold satisfaction welled up inside her. She couldn’t help but feel relieved, even happy.

She stepped over the bodies, moving slowly toward Daemon. Hearing her approach, he whirled around, sword poised, the blade slicing through the air above her head. Confusion clouded his features for a moment before he realized there was nothing left to fight. His gaze softened as he lowered his sword and dropped to his knees before her, his hands gently cradling her tear-stained face. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice thick with panicked concern.

Daella shook her head slowly, the motion numb. She rubbed at her wet cheeks before launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. Her tears soaked his collar as he lifted her off the ground. “Shh, little one,” he murmured, stroking her back in comfort. “Let’s get you to Mellos.”

The guards watched them closely as they ascended the steps of the Red Keep, their faces drawn with apprehension, but none dared stop them. Laughter and music floated from the hall ahead, a stark contrast to the horror Daella had just escaped. They moved deeper into the keep, down a long corridor where two knights in polished silver armour stood on either side of large wooden doors, their pristine white cloaks a stark contrast to the blood still streaking Daemon’s hair.

Daemon exhaled sharply as they approached the doors and the knights guarding them. One of them was young, with slightly tanned skin and wavy brown hair, his eyes burning with barely concealed rage as they settled on Daemon. The other was older, tall and broad, his bald head gleaming in the torchlight, a greying beard adding to his severe appearance. The older knight stepped forward, his voice formal. “We were not aware of your arrival, My Prince. The King is currently indisposed.”

“I have no desire to see my brother yet, Lord Commander,” Daemon replied, his tone dry and impatient. “I only wish to borrow his maester.”

“The maester is also occupied,” the younger guard snapped, his words edged with disdain.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze on the young knight. “Well, Crispin, be a good little dog and un-occupy him.”

The young knight shot a glance at the older man, who nodded curtly. He spun on his heel and pushed through the heavy doors, leaving them slightly ajar. Through the gap, Daella caught a glimpse of a grand hall bathed in golden light. At the far end, a man stood at a raised table, cup in the air as if to make a speech. A stout man leaned in to whisper in his ear. The man with the cup suddenly looked toward them, his brow furrowing in displeasure.

The knight returned, glaring at Daemon as he addressed him. “The King wishes to see you.”

Daemon rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Now? In there?” He sighed, pulling Daella tighter against him as he headed up the steps and into the hall.

As they passed, Daella glanced back at the two knights. Crispin sneered at her, but the older knight stepped forward, blocking her view with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.

The hall was breathtaking, with dragon silhouettes and red ribbons hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently in the breeze. Two long tables were laden with food—more than Daella had ever seen in her life. A roasted pig, platters of fruit, and golden loaves of bread. To the right, a group of musicians stood with instruments poised, their lively tune faltering as the room fell into a stunned silence.

No one spoke as Daemon strode down the central aisle, his boots echoing on the stone floor. All eyes were on them, the whispers quieting as they took in the blood-streaked man and the girl in his arms, her once-white nightdress now torn and stained red.

As they neared the raised table, Daella took in the features of the man with the cup. His sharp nose and silver hair mirrored Daemon’s, though his was pinned back beneath a heavy crown. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized who he was. This was Daemon’s brother. This was the King.

“My King,” Daemon said softly, bowing his head.

Daella scanned the people seated beside the King. To his left was a beautiful young girl with long silver hair flowing down her back, the shade only slightly darker than Daemon’s. Her dress was off the shoulder and black, silver stitching ran throughout it, creating the illusion of scales.

On the King’s right sat a slightly older woman, no less beautiful, her long auburn curls framing a face of stern beauty. She wore a dark green dress, embellished with gold detailing, and a small seven-pointed star sat in the divot of her throat. She was deep in conversation with a young man beside her, her face pinched in frustration. The boy, with silver hair grazing his shoulders, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The King studied Daella, his face lined with confusion and concern. His eyes flicked back to Daemon, hardening. “Why have you returned, Daemon?” The displeasure in his voice was unmistakable.

“Mellos was the closest maester,” Daemon replied, his voice stiff. “I have only come to have our wounds seen to and beg an audience with my brother.”

Ser Harwin appeared, and Daella’s gaze snapped toward him as he approached the older, stout man sitting a few spaces down from the king. As he turned, his gaze locked with hers, and her heart skipped. “Daella,” he whispered, confusion flashing in his eyes as he hurried around the table, his expression quickly turning to concern.

Daemon turned to face him, his gaze hardening to steel as Ser Harwin approached.

The King’s eyes narrowed as he watched. “Do you know this child, Harwin?” he asked, his voice sharp with confusion.

“I do, Your Grace,” Ser Harwin replied, his eyes never leaving Daella. “Give her here,” he demanded, arms outstretched.

Daella shrank further into Daemon’s embrace, clinging to him.

Daemon’s voice was low and deadly as he glared at Ser Harwin. “I like you, Ser Harwin, but touch her, and you’ll lose a hand.”

“What in the seven hells is going on?” the King barked in confusion, slamming his cup onto the table.

The red-haired woman’s gaze landed on Daella, taking in her torn dress and the fresh bruises on her legs. “Dear gods, what has happened to that child?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with concern.

Daella turned to her, her voice barely a whisper. “Bad men.”

The woman’s face paled, her eyes wide with horror. “Lord Commander Westerling,” she commanded, her voice firm with authority, “escort Daemon and the child to a guest chamber. Send for Grand Maester Mellos immediately. Have the servants draw a bath and find her something to wear. Burn that dress afterward.”

The Lord Commander bowed. “At once, My Queen.”

Daemon’s gaze met the Queen’s, his voice low and controlled as he quietly said, “Thank you.” Though his words were formal and polite, an undercurrent of tension ran beneath them. He turned to follow the knight, but for

The woman’s face pales, her eyes wide with horror. “Lord Commander Westerling,” the red-haired woman commands, her voice firm with authority, “escort Daemon and the child to a guest chamber. Send for Grand Maester Mellos immediately. Have the servants draw a bath and find her something to wear. Burn that dress afterwards.”

The Lord Commander bows. “At once, My Queen.”

Daemon’s gaze met the Queen’s, his voice low and controlled as he quietly said, “Thank you.” Though his words were formal and polite, an undercurrent of tension simmered beneath them. He turned to follow the knight, but his eyes found the silver-haired woman standing beside the King for a fleeting moment. Her violet eyes lingered on him, almost imperceptibly, as though drawn to him against her will. A silent moment stretched between them, so subtle that it might have gone unnoticed by others, but it felt heavy with something unsaid. She hesitated, her breath catching before her gaze shifted, reluctantly, to Daella.

“Niece,” Daemon said, the soft smile tugging at his lips feeling both familiar and distant, as though there was more behind the word than he dared to reveal.

“Uncle,” she replied, her voice quiet, as if afraid to speak any louder. Daella shifted in Daemon’s arms, glancing over his shoulder. The woman’s gaze followed him, her composure barely concealing the warmth in her eyes. A faint blush touched her cheeks, fleeting but noticeable, before her eyes flickered forward, as if she was suddenly aware of being watched. Yet, in that brief exchange, something lingered—something unspoken but undeniably present—slipping away as quickly as it had come.

As they were led away, Daella, peering over Daemon’s shoulder, caught sight of two children. A beautiful silver-haired girl, engrossed in a glass case, muttered softly to herself. But it was another boy, close to Daella's age, with silver hair like Daemon’s, who captured her attention. His gaze met hers, piercing and unreadable, holding a curiosity or silent question that she was too exhausted to understand.

The King’s voice boomed behind them, cutting through the thick silence. “Alicent, what is the meaning of—” His words were abruptly silenced as the heavy doors closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the hall and the festivities within.

Once inside the private chamber, the atmosphere shifted, becoming heavy with the scent of burning wood and the muted crackle of the fire. An old man in a cream-colored robe knelt at Daella's feet, carefully bandaging her wounds as she stared at the charred remains of her nightgown crumbling into the flames. The heat from the fire seemed distant, almost unreal, as though the pain and fear had dulled her senses to everything but the steady, rhythmic motion of the maester’s hands.

“How bad are her injuries?” Daemon’s voice broke the silence, low and measured, though the tension in his posture revealed the depth of his concern. He watched the maester from his seat at the table, his chin resting on clasped hands, his eyes never leaving Daella’s bandaged feet.

“Her injuries are minor, My Prince,” the maester replied, his voice steady with the authority of experience. “Other than the bump on her head and the cuts on her feet, she appears to be in good health. However, she must try to stay off her feet so they may heal properly.” The old man groaned slightly as he rose from his kneeling position, his movements slow and deliberate.

“And what of the bruising?” Daemon’s voice sharpened, his violet eyes narrowing as they fixed on the maester.

“The bruising does not extend past the knees, so I do not believe it necessary to examine the girl further at this time. Should anything change, have her brought to me immediately,” the maester advised, his chains clinking softly as he gathered his things and moved toward the door.

“Thank you, Maester,” Daemon said with a curt nod, his attention already shifting back to Daella as the old man exited the room.

Daemon approached her slowly, his presence filling the space as he sat down beside her on the settee. His eyes softened as they met hers, the intensity from moments ago replaced with a gentleness that felt almost foreign. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice tender as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm.

“Scared... and sleepy,” Daella whispered, her voice small and tired as she curled her feet beneath her, seeking comfort in the warmth of the blankets.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweet girl,” Daemon murmured, his tone a soothing balm to the lingering terror in her chest. He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to the large bed in the centre of the room.

The mattress was soft and warm, as though someone had prepared it just for her. Daemon tucked the covers around her with the same care one might use for a fragile piece of glass, his touch light but reassuring. He stroked her hair gently, sitting beside her as she settled into the bed.

“Can you tell me a story?” Daella asked, her voice barely more than a breath as she curled into a ball, seeking the comfort of his presence.

“Of course, I can, my sweet,” Daemon replied, his hand continuing its soothing motion through her hair. “Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys—” His voice, low and steady, became a lullaby that pulled her into the welcoming arms of sleep. As she drifted off, the horrors of the night faded, replaced by the safety and warmth of Daemon’s presence. For the first time since the terror began, Daella felt truly safe.

The soft morning light trickled through the windows, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. A quiet creak followed by a gust of air pulled Daella from sleep. As she opened her eyes, she took in the unfamiliar surroundings: soft green wallpaper covered the walls, statues of the seven-pointed star were purposefully placed around the room, and even the books on the shelves bore the same star on their spines. The blankets that covered her were green as well, completing the theme. Her gaze drifted toward the adjoining room, where the boy she had seen the night before stood in the doorway, staring at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he had been running.

She pushed the covers aside and slipped out of bed, walking toward him. Her eyes raked over his form, taking in his dishevelled appearance. His long hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his fancy clothing was smeared with black soot. The smell of smoke clung to him, sharp and undeniable.

“Why do you look like that?” Daella asked, gesturing to his blackened tunic with a questioning tilt of her head.

“Dragons,” he answered breathlessly, leaning against the wall as though to steady himself.

Daella gasped, her eyes widening in awe. “You have a dragon? Can I see it?” She rushed toward him, her excitement bubbling over as she grabbed his hand eagerly. “Please, please, can I see your dragon?”

“No!” he snapped, yanking his hand away from hers with such force that it stung. His glare was sharp, his expression hardening as he stepped back, his eyes flickering with something like shame or frustration.

“Why not?” Daella huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, a pout forming on her lips. She felt the weight of her disappointment pressing down on her.

“Because I don’t have a dragon!” he shouted, his face flushing with embarrassment as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Oh.” The disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced with an understanding nod. “That’s okay. I don’t have a dragon either.” She patted his shoulder gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “How did you get in here?”

“Come,” he said, his voice quieter now as he took her hand again, leading her to the far side of the room. He pressed hard against the wall, and to her amazement, a hidden passageway opened, revealing a dark, musty corridor. “These can take you anywhere in the keep, and no one can see you. As long as you don’t mind rats,” he added with a mischievous grin.

Daella's eyes widened with wonder. The thought of sneaking through the keep, unseen, sent a thrill through her. Rats didn’t bother her—she’d seen plenty in Flea Bottom. As long as you left them alone, they tended to leave you alone too.

“Daella!” Ser Harwin’s voice boomed from the other room, followed by a heavy knock on the door. “Why is this door locked? Daella!”

Daella glanced back toward the relentless banging of the door, her heart skipping a beat. “Coming!” she called out, turning to the boy, who was already stepping into the hidden passage. “Go, before he breaks through the door,” she whispered with a smile.

The boy’s violet eyes met hers one last time before he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

Quickly, Daella unlocked the door and opened it wide for Ser Harwin. He strode in, worry etched across his face, and without a moment’s hesitation, he knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug. His embrace was warm, grounding her in its familiarity.

“What happened, Daella? Why are you here?” he asked, his voice thick with concern as he pulled away to examine her face.

“Daemon found me in the market,” Daella began, the words tumbling out as tears welled up in her eyes. “He wasn’t happy that I was alone again, so he took me home. He was arguing with Rose, and I—I ran. I tried to find you, but I couldn’t. There were men... they tried to hurt me.” She sniffled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Daemon killed them. He brought me here and made sure I was okay.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, sweet girl,” Ser Harwin murmured, pulling her into another hug. His voice was heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

Daella pressed her face into his chest, finding comfort in the familiar scent of him. “Is Prince Daemon really my father?” she asked, her voice muffled by his tunic.

Ser Harwin gently pulled her away, his eyes softening as he looked at her tear-streaked face. “Your mother always said he was,” he admitted quietly. “It’s why Rose and I tried so hard to keep you safe. We didn’t know how Prince Daemon or the King would react, but it seems that the Prince cares for you.”

His words sank in, but there was still so much she didn’t understand. “What are you doing in the keep, Harwin?” she asked, furrowing her brow. “I thought you’d be with the City Watch.”

“My father is the King's Hand, Daella. I’m expected to maintain a presence at court, which means attending feasts and announcements whenever needed.” He chuckled softly, stroking her hair. “Like the one you and Prince Daemon interrupted last night when you walked in covered in blood.”

Daella smiled sheepishly at the memory, but before she could say more, Harwin’s tone shifted back to concern. “Enough about me. Are you alright? What did the Maester say?”

“I think I’m fine,” Daella replied, her brow furrowing in confusion. “The Maester told Daemon that I was in good health apart from the bump on my head and the cuts on my feet. He said the bruises didn’t go past my knees.” She paused, trying to make sense of the cryptic statement. “I don’t know what that means, but I feel alright. Just a little scared.”

Harwin’s eyes softened further, and he nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he said, though he didn’t elaborate. The silence that followed was thick, hanging in the air like a question left unanswered.

“Do you think the King will let me stay?” Daella asked suddenly, breaking the stillness. “I like it here... well, apart from all the green,” she added with a small laugh, glancing at the verdant surroundings.

Harwin chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s up to the King, sweet girl. But if you’re family, I’m sure things will work out the way they are supposed to.” His smile was warm, but beneath it, Daella sensed the weight of what was to come. Harwin’s smile lingered, but there was a heaviness in his eyes. “The King is a hard man to read, but you belong here more than you know, Daella.”

His words brought Daella a sense of relief, though her thoughts were still a jumble. She leaned into his side as he stood, and they walked toward the door together, her mind still racing with unanswered questions.

As Harwin opened the door, sunlight flooded in from the hall, and for a moment, Daella was blinded by its brightness. She stopped and turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Harwin… if Daemon really is my father, will he want me to stay? Or does he just feel like he has to?”

Harwin knelt down to face her again, his expression thoughtful. “Daemon may be many things, Daella. He’s fierce, unpredictable, and often more driven by duty than emotion. But what I’ve seen… the way he looks at you… there’s something there. Maybe he’s just beginning to realize it, but he cares for you. I believe he wants you here.”

The weight of his words made Daella’s heart swell with hope, but also uncertainty. She nodded slowly, trying to make sense of it all, but before she could respond, the sound of distant footsteps echoed down the hall. Harwin straightened up, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll have to go soon, but if you ever need me, you know where to find me. Stay close to the Prince for now, alright?”

“I will,” Daella promised, gripping his arm for a moment before letting go.

As Harwin left, the room suddenly felt too big, too empty. Daella stood there, staring at the door for a long moment, unsure of what to do next. A part of her wanted to explore those hidden passages, to run through the castle unseen and discover its secrets. But another part of her felt the weight of the past few days settling over her, the exhaustion of everything that had happened.

She glanced back toward the passage the boy had shown her, curiosity pulling her toward the unknown. But the memory of his violet eyes watching her before he disappeared lingered in her mind, and she decided to wait. There would be time for that later.

For now, she headed back to the bed and sat on its edge, staring at the green blankets that surrounded her. This place felt foreign, but at the same time, there was a strange comfort in it. Maybe this was where she belonged after all. Maybe she had a place here, with Daemon, with Harwin… with her family.

She didn’t know what the King would decide, or what Daemon would want in the end. But for now, she had the chance to find out. And that was more than she had ever thought she would have.

As the day moved forward and the castle stirred to life outside the door, Daella lay back on the bed, letting the soft green light wash over her. There was so much ahead—uncertainties, dangers, and decisions to be made—but for now, in this quiet moment, she allowed herself to hope.

[merthosus]

Hello, my first time requesting, but please i badly needed part two of 'It hurts, doesn't it?"

Cried so much because someone betrayed me.

It hurt's, doesn't it? Part 2

Summary: Diego caught you and Five kiss, after you both watched him and Five's girlfriend cheating. Diego insults you out of anger, will Five step in for you?

Of course my dear, take a cup of coffee and a warm blanket, Five will heal all of your wounds!

"Did you really… like me all this time?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!", Diego screamed.

You had expected Five to jump up from you, push you away or even ram you to the side, but no. His body only pressed harder against your own. You swallowed, getting caught felt worse than you expected. Your stomach tightened and your hands clawed into the seat of the van. You put a hand around the back of Five's neck to pull yourself up and support yourself by your arm.

When Diego, after several moments, angrily yanked the door open, you felt mortal fear. “You fucking whore…” he whispers to you as he captures you with his eyes. Five's grip on your waist tightened. “Watch how you talk to her,” Five mutters angrily. "I talk to my girlfriend how I want to, brother", he says.

The tension in the van was palpable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Diego's glare felt like a sharp blade cutting through the air, and you could feel the heat of it burning into your skin. His words echoed in your mind—girlfriend. The weight of the accusation hung heavy between you, Five, and Diego, creating a suffocating silence.

Five’s grip on your waist was firm, protective even, and you could sense the quiet storm brewing in him. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked toward his brother, not backing down. He was always calm under pressure, but you could tell that Diego’s words had struck a nerve. The van’s confined space only added to the suffocating tension.

"Diego, this isn’t the way," you said softly, trying to de-escalate, but your voice trembled with the weight of the situation. You weren’t sure what Diego had seen, or what he thought he saw, but this was spiraling out of control.

“Whore?” Five growled, his voice low but dangerous, his gaze locking onto Diego. His body shifted slightly, as though he was ready to throw himself between you and his brother at a moment’s notice. "She was not the one flirting with my girlfriend in there", Five arguments, whipping his head to the side of the restaurant.

Diego’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting in anger. "That’s not the point, Five," he spat, his voice laced with frustration. "You don’t get to play the hero here. You were all over her," he gestured wildly at you, his hand trembling with rage. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Five shifted slightly, his body still shielding you from Diego’s intense gaze. His voice was low and cold when he spoke, but there was an undeniable fire behind his words. "I’m thinking that I’m tired of all of this. Tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong while you’re in there playing happy with someone else." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the anger and pain he was holding back. "I gave everything, Diego, and you threw it away. So don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here."

Diego’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins in his neck straining. His eyes darted between you and Five, as if searching for something—some explanation, some way to make sense of the mess unraveling in front of him.

"You don’t understand," Diego muttered, his voice barely audible now, as if he was losing control of his own emotions. He took a step back, his eyes flicking to you, and for a brief moment, you saw something other than anger in his gaze—regret, maybe even guilt. "There is nothing to understand Diego, she gave you everything and you threw it away like it was nothing. She doesn't deserve you", Five says with a lower tone.

Your hand travels up his waist, you hid your hand into his shirt, hoping Diego wouldn't see it. "You always had an eye on her Five, don't you dare to play the victim!"; he screams angrily.

Five’s eyes darkened as Diego's accusation cut through the air. He stood still for a moment before letting out a low sigh, his voice unusually soft. “You’re not entirely wrong, Diego. I liked her before. Long before you two were together.”

Diego’s face twisted in disbelief, rage boiling up. “You’ve had your eye on her this whole time? Waiting for me to mess up?”

Five’s grip on you tightened slightly, but his tone remained calm, steady. “No. I never wanted it to be this way. But I watched you throw her away, over and over again. I buried my feelings, out of respect for you. But then you left her.”

Diego’s fists clenched as he stepped forward. “So now you think you can just step in?”Five shook his head, glancing at you briefly. “No, Diego. I didn’t plan any of this. But I couldn’t watch you hurt her anymore.”Diego’s jaw clenched, and without another word, he turned away and stormed off, leaving the two of you standing in the thick silence.Five turned to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”

Five’s confession hung in the air, the weight of his words pressing against you. Diego's retreating footsteps echoed in the silence as he left the two of you alone in the van.

You turned to Five, your heart pounding. "Did you really… like me all this time?"

Five hesitated, searching your eyes before answering. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I never acted on it. You were with Diego, and I respected that. I kept my distance because… it wasn’t my place.”

You swallowed, your emotions a tangled mess. “And now?” Five looked at you, his eyes softening. “Now, everything’s different. I didn’t plan this, but… I care about you. More than I should’ve allowed myself to.” Your breath caught, unsure of what to say. But deep down, a part of you knew that things between you and Five had always been different—always deeper than friendship. In that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had always felt it too.

For all the people who wanted a part 2 :)

[luxthestrange]

TIGRAAS Incorrect quotes#71 Girl dad

When Daddy Rimuru is finally resting after a loooong meeting with the council his "Daughters" come to ask him to play with him but Rimuru middle-aged mentality is too tired to play...his three daughters have other plans-

Milim*Bringing her new sisters to a huddle and whispers* Okay, Girls, this is going to take a serious please face...

Alice & Chloe: Yes, serious!

Milim: Let's get these lips in a pout~ *Puts the girl's lips in a frown*And I'm going to need to see tears!

Chloe & Alice now have tears in their eyes and pouty trembling lip

Milim: That's good! And let's hold these! *Gives the girls a plushie and rimuru slime squish mallows; the toys squeak as they hug them*-Okay, let's do this~

The scene changes back to Rimuru on the couch, The girls walk up to Him

Rimuru*Opens one eye and sees them* What do you want?

Pov zooms in on Three whimpers as Milim speaks; the scene focuses on Milim or Rimuru when either one of them speak-

Milim*Tear eyes hugging the girls* Why do you never play with us?!

Rimuru*Sits up and looks at the two in shock* What?!

Milim: You're always at work!

Rimuru*Confused and hands up* I'm never at work!

Milim: It's like you don't even love us!?!

Rimuru*Looking offended at the trio*...You are joking, right?

Milim: How can you not love your own children?!?

Rimuru*Sighs and rubs his face* Aw, cheese and jam! Alright-

Milim,Chloe & Alice*they giggle as they run away*Hooray!!Hehehe~

Mal: That was impressive...

Part 2 of:

[pasaatimonarkin]

No crying in the Burlesque club I part 4

Han Jisung x reader feat. OT8 Stray kids

Mafia!au

Warnings: cursing, guns, mentions of blood, sexual language, future smut

Word count: 5,3k

part 3 I part 5

Lee Know, Jeongin, Hyunjin and Han had grabbed you from bed early this morning. Chan had started to make you ready to leave the place and wanted you to learn self-defense. Your cast was taken off yesterday and Chan didn't give the thought another minute.

The five of you stood in the center of the training place, the third floor of the house. The floor was padded with mats that had seen better days, and the walls were adorned with punching bags and wall pars. The air smelled like sweat from the guys showing you some moves you could try. You watched them with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had no experience in fighting so all they told you was new information.

“Alright, sweetheart," Han began, a smirk playing on his lips, "Today's lesson is all about using what you've got." He gestured to your small figure "Don't let anyone tell you that you're not strong enough."

You rolled your eyes at his teasing but felt a warmth spread through your chest.

Jeongin stepped forward, his gentle demeanor a stark contrast to Han's. "We'll start with the basics," he said, holding up two fists. "First, your stance. You want to be firm, but flexible. Imagine you're a tree in a storm." He demonstrated, his legs apart and knees slightly bent.

Lee Know and Hyunjin chuckled at the analogy, but you focused intently, mimicking Jeongin's stance. Your legs trembled slightly since your ankle was still weak but ignored the discomfort.

"Good," Jeongin nodded, "now, let's talk about punches." He glanced over at Han, who was already holding up a punching bag with a smug look. "Hit this like you mean it."

You took a deep breath and threw a tentative punch. The bag barely moved.

"Come on," Han called out, "you’re trying to make the opponent regret touching you, not make them aroused!” The others shared a laugh, and you felt a flash of irritation. Gritting your teeth, you raised your fist again, knuckles white with determination. This time, you swung with all her might, the sound of your fist connecting with the bag echoing through room. The bag swung back and forth, and you stumbled slightly from the recoil.

"Better," Han said, his smirk fading into a genuine smile. "Now, let's talk about power. It's not just about how hard you hit, it's about where you hit." He stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder to adjust your posture. His touch was firm, but there was a hint of care in his eyes that made you feel more at ease.

"Imagine your opponent is a board," he continued, "and you need to break it. You're not going to punch them with your wrist; you're going to use the power from your entire body."

Lee Know and Hyunjin circled around you, offering words of encouragement. "Think that the power starts from your legs and releases from your arms. " Hyunjin suggested.

You took another deep breath, visualizing the power coursing through your body and into yor fist. You threw another punch, and this time the bag rocked more noticeably. The guys nodded in approval, and you felt a small satisfaction.

"Good," Hyunjin said, clapping you on the back.

You moved on to kicks next, with Lee Know showing you how to balance your weight and deliver a powerful kick to the bag. Each time you landed one, the bag thudded loudly, sending a satisfying vibration through the floor. You had to train kicking only with your other leg to let your ankle rest.

After an hour of training, your muscles burned and felt a sense of accomplishment. Sweat beaded on your forehead.

"Alright," Han announced, wiping his own brow, "let's take a break. Hydrate, catch your breath."

You nodded gratefully and reached for your water bottle. You took a long drink, the cool liquid flowed down your dry throat. Hyunjin, Jeongin and Lee Know leaned against the wall.

Suddenly, without warning, Han lunged at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could react, he had grabbed your wrist and twisted it, sending you crashing to the mat. You gasped in shock, breath being knocked out of your lungs.

"What the—" you began to protest, but Han was already straddling you, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head. His smirk had returned in full force.

 "This is what happens when you let your guard down," he said, his voice light, but his eyes gleaming with serious intent. "You can't stop moving, even when you think you're safe."

You squirmed beneath him, trying to push him off. "Hey! That's not fair!" you protested, cheeks flushing red under his touch.

"Life isn't fair," Han said, his tone still playful, but his grip unyielding. "You've got to be ready for anything." Your heart was racing, not just from the surprise of his attack, but also from the closeness of his body to yours. You struggled to get free, your cheeks growing hotter.

"Get off!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of embarrassment and irritation. Han's smirk grew, and he leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours.

"You want me to let you go?" he challenged, his voice low and teasing. "Then fight back."

Your eyes narrowed, and you braced yourself against the mat. With a sudden burst of strength, you pushed up with your hips, catching Han off-guard. He rolled off you, and you quickly scrambled back to your feet. The guys watched you on the side.

"Alright," Han said, his smirk fading into a genuine smile. "Now we're talking." He rose to his feet, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "You've got spirit."

You stood, chest heaving from the exertion and the rush of adrenaline. You took a defensive stance, eyes never leaving Han's. He raised his hands in a playful fighting stance. "Come at me."

You took a deep breath, heart pounding in your chest. You lunged forward, legs unsteady from the surprise move earlier, but spirit unbroken.

"Use your legs," Jeongin called out from the sidelines, and you took his advice. You swung a leg out, aiming for Han's stomach, but he was too quick. He caught your ankle and with a twirl, you found yourself flipped over and lying on your back again, staring up at the ceiling.

"Nice try," Han said, his voice filled with amusement as he hovered over you once again, his hands planted on the mat beside your shoulders. "But you're going to have to do better than that."

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of irritation and excitement bubbling in you. You glared up at him, your breaths coming in short gasps. "I'll have you know; I can handle a lot more than you think," you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. You knew you didn’t really know much about these things but he didn’t have to know.

"Oh, really?" Han's eyebrow arched with playfulness in his voice. "You seem to enjoy having me on top of you."

The room was quiet, and you heart skipped a beat. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel the weight of his body pressing down on you. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. You pushed against his chest in an attempt to sit up.

Han grabbed your hands tight, but his eyes remained playful. "I'm just saying, you're not exactly fighting me off with everything you've got." He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your cheek.

Hyunjin, who had been quietly observing from the sidelines, had seen enough. He stepped forward, a hint of a smirk playing on his own lips. "Alright, lovebirds," he said, his tone light but firm, "let's keep this professional, shall we?"

Han's grin didn't falter, but he relented, rolling off you. You sat up, cheeks flaming red, and took a moment to collect yourself.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. "Alright, let's move on," he said, picking up a pistol from the nearby weapons rack. "We're going to teach you the basics of firearm safety and shooting."

You nodded, eager to change the subject and stop thinking about Han. You walked to the next room that had a shooting range. Your heart was still racing and took the gun from Hyunjin. It felt heavy and foreign in your grip, it was the first time you held a gun in your hands.

"Remember," Hyunjin began, his tone serious now, "safety is the most important thing. Always assume a gun is loaded, even if it's not."

You nodded, mind racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you held the pistol in your trembling hands. You never knew that you would have to learn to use a gun, but it could come in handy.

"First, you need to learn how to hold it correctly," Hyunjin instructed, his voice steady and calm. He took the gun and placed it back in your palms, adjusting your grip. "Firm, but not too tight. You want to be able to control the recoil."

Jeongin and Lee Know set up a row of paper targets down the range, each one a few feet apart. They were simple outlines of a human form.

"Alright, Y/n," Jeongin said, his tone more serious now, "you're going to want to keep your elbows bent, like this." He demonstrated, showing you how to hold the gun in a way that would allow for better control and stability. "It's all about balance."

Lee Know stepped up beside you handing you a pair of earmuffs. "These will protect your hearing," he explained, placing a set over his own ears. "It's going to be loud but try not to let it scare you."

Hyunjin nodded in agreement, "Remember to keep your eyes on the target, and don't anticipate the shot. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squeeze the trigger."

You nodded, heart thundering in your chest as you positioned the gun, following their instructions to the letter. Jeongin and Lee Know had placed the targets at varying distances. You took a moment to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of their gazes on you.

You squeezed the trigger, and the gunshot rang out, echoing off the walls. The target remained untouched. "Keep your eyes open," Jeongin reminded, his voice calm. "It's natural to want to close them when you're nervous."

You nodded, ears still ringing from the first shot. You took aim again, eyes never leaving the target. You squeezed the trigger once more. The bullet whizzed past the target, tearing a hole in the mat behind it.

Han couldn't help but grin at your missed shot, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, you really are shooting someone, not the attacker but someone," he quipped, earning a glare from you.

"Very funny," you said annoyed. You readjusted your grip and took a step back.

Han's grin grew wider as he watched you. You could feel his gaze on you, but refused to let it throw you off. You took another deep breath. C’mon you can do this. You finger squeezed the trigger, and this time, the shot hit the edge of the target.

"Better," Han said, his voice closer than you had expected. You turned to find him standing right beside you, his hand reaching out to steady your arm. His touch sent a shiver down your spine "Your stance is too wide," he corrected, stepping behind you and placing his hands on your hips. "You need to be more balanced. Like this." He gently pushed your hips back and adjusted your feet. "Keep your weight evenly distributed," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your neck.

You shivered again, but knew he was right. You nodded, taking another shot. This time, the bullet hit the target square in the chest.

"Looks like you're getting the hang of it," Lee Know said, his voice filled with pride. "Why don't we take a break and grab some food?"

You lowered the gun, hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline. "Food sounds amazing," you agreed. Your heart was pounding fast as you thought about Han’s touch. It was crazy how he made you feel so weak under his touch. You couldn’t deny it anymore – you had a huge crush on the guy whether you liked it or not.

-

“I fucking can’t stand her!” you yelled through your gritted teeth as you stepped to the dressing room, heels clicking against the floor. Every day since Coco joined the club, she had practically thrown herself to Han, taking a clear interest in him.

You were not together you knew that. And Han most likely had no feelings for you, you knew that too. But her demeanor still made your blood boil, making you want to slap that smirk off of her face. Han didn’t seem that interested on her, not flirting with her like he usually did.

You had a show where you all performed together. You couldn't help but steal glances at Han, hoping he'd be watching you and not Coco's blatant attempts at seduction. As the routine went on, Coco's eyes never left Han, her gaze a silent plea for his approval. She performed with an exaggerated flair; her movements calculated to draw his focus.

The air grew thick with jealousy as Coco threw in an extra twirl, her skirt fluttering high in purpose. Han raised an eyebrow, but face stayed blank. You had no idea what Han was thinking about during the show.  As you gave your final bows for the audience, Coco made sure to give Han an extra wink.

“She is ruthless when it comes to seeking attention” Lucky huffed, taking a seat on her assigned chair and crossing her legs.

“Have you told Han yet?” Cherry asked while taking her heels off.

Your cheeks flushed red. “Told him what?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Lucky smirked, “That you like him! It’s so obvious!”

You didn’t argue, “Yeah, maybe. But I could never tell him”. Your brother would never let you have a relationship with him.

“If you are scared about his feelings towards you, I can see that he likes you back” Cherry winked.

“He is totally into you” Lucky added, nudging you on the shoulder.

You bit your lip to hide the smile that was trying to form in your lips. That couldn’t be true. Just as you were starting to feel better, Coco walked in. She had taken her sweet time thanking the audience, taking their cheers in. “Hey ladies” she chirped and made her way to the mirror, adjusting her lipstick. None of you said anything, just shared a knowing eye contact with each other.

“Great show as always!” a familiar voice spoke from the door and you turned around to see Han smiling at you.

“Thank you, I knew you would enjoy” Coco sang to Han as she scuttled with her high heels to him, clinging onto his arm. This took Han in surprise, but his eyes still stayed on you. That made your fury rise once again and you had to take a deep breath so you wouldn’t say anything out of anger. “I’m sure you had your favorite to watch” Coco beamed.

Han smiled at her words, yet his eyes still didn’t leave yours. “Oh yeah, I always enjoy watching y/n”. Your heart skipped a beat.

Coco’s smile faltered and her grip loosening on Han’s arm, but she didn’t surrender that easily. She leaned closer to Han, “Maybe you’d like a private performance sometime”, she suggested, her voice a seductive purr. “I could show you a real show.”

“Perhaps another time” Han shot an awkward smile at Coco. She took that as a promise, winked at Han and turned in her heels to walk away, her touch lingering on Han’s arm too long for your liking.

Cherry and Lucky shared a look, surprised at Coco’s boldness. Your gaze met Han’s as he looked back at you. You tried to control your emotions and expression, but it seemed that you couldn’t keep your face completely blank since Han raised his eyebrow at you. “You okay, y/n?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you forced a smile, “I’ll meet you outside”. Han nodded and walked to the hallway. As soon as the sound of his steps faded away, you turned to see the girls. The way Coco was always throwing herself at Han made you want to rip your hair out.

“Don’t let her get under your skin” Lucky said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You took a deep breath and looked at yourself from the mirror. What was happening to you? You were never this jealous before, especially for a guy who you weren’t even together with!

“I know I shouldn’t. It just feels like she’s always onto him” you replied.

“She’s just desperately wanting attention. She’s making you jealous in purpose, because she can see that Han’s into you, like I said. I mean he hasn’t missed a single show!”

Cherry nodded “Lucky’s right. You need to talk to him, tell him how you feel”.

Yeah, he came to the shows but at least half the reason was because Chan wanted him to keep an eye on you, right? You bit your bottom lip. Could you still tell Han about your feelings? Your stomach churned at the thought of rejection. But if there was a chance that he felt the same, you could make that annoying smirk disappear from Coco’s lips.

You told the girls you would think about it, earning eye rolls from them both. You phone blinged and you saw a text from Han, telling you to hurry up. That wasn’t a good sign, it meant he had somewhere to go. And considering his work, it wasn’t anything nice.

Quickly gathering all your stuff, you speed walked outside in your show outfit. The cold air hit your bare legs and made you shiver. It was already late and dark, only dim streetlights illuminating the sidewalks. Han leaned against the car, looking at his phone. The way the light shined on him made him look like an angel and even more as he looked up and locked his eyes with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt there and then, but you were too slow.

“We need to go” he stated, opening you the door for you to step into the car. Your small smile faltered off at his serious tone and you lowered your head, making your way to the passenger seat. As he drove to the house, his eyes were switching between the road and his phone, focusing on reading something. You felt the urge to grab his hand and just blurt out your feelings. You were going to leave the house someday anyway, if he didn’t feel the same. But his stern expression made you keep your mouth shut. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time for talking at that moment.

You reached the house, but this time Han didn’t park his car to the garage like he used to. He stopped the car on the front door and turned to you. “I need to be somewhere, I’ll see you when I get back” His voice was soft, not matching the stern look on his face. You furrowed your brows, “Where are you going?”

He ran his hand through his hair, looking at you like he wanted to tell you but couldn’t. “I will tell you later” he answered, and you slowly nodded, realizing the truth wasn’t pretty. You climbed out of the car and watched him drive off immediately.

-

You slid to your dressing room chair, feeling your heart racing. For the hundredth time that evening you wished that Han was there, but he was still away. You hadn’t heard from him since last night and had no clue where he was other than that he was on a mission assigned by Chan. You looked at your reflection in the mirror and could see the nervousness in your expression despite all the glitter that was decorating your face.

Jack knocked on the door, “It’s your turn” he exclaimed. You nodded and took a deep breath. I have done this many times without Han being in the audience, you can do it now too.  You stepped into the hallway where Cherry ran up to you from the stage. “Go kill it, girl” she said breathily and winked, giving your shoulders a light and reassuring squeeze. You smiled back and rose to the stage. If there was one good thing about today – Coco wasn’t there.

The audience clapped as you appeared on stage and you took your place in the middle, straightening the hem of your short white skirt and made sure your hairpiece was intact. You looked up from the stage and in the booth where Han usually sat, was now Felix and Hyunjin. Felix flashed a comforting smile at you an Hyunjin did a small wave, both ensuring that they were there for you.

As the music started, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with every performance. The spotlight hit you and you began your show. Thoughts of Han and his mission faded into the back of your head for now.

At the end of your show, you gave small bow to the audience and made your way to the dressing room to change your clothes. Cherry had already left and since your performance was the last for that night, you were there alone. Soon you had on your comfy sweatpants, hoodie and sneakers. The make up and glitter would have to wait on your face until you got to the house.

You grabbed your purse and strolled to the hallway. You saw the two men sitting at the bar having drinks and walked to them, taking a seat in the empty seat middle of them. Hyunjin made an attempt at small talk, asking about the dance routine. But your mind had already gone back to thinking Han. It was annoying that he had captured your heart and mind, and was all you could think of.

“What is he really doing?” you finally managed to ask.

Felix glanced at Hyunjin before responding, his smile fading slightly. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just some business, you know”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving his drink, “Yeah, it’s a small job. Nothing he couldn’t handle”.

You managed a small smile, but you weren’t satisfied on their answers. There was a ton of jobs that he could be doing considering all the districts where Strays worked. “Is he like selling guns or...?” you tried to dig the answer from them. Felix took a sip of his drink before answering. “No, we never do those alone”. He cleared his throat. “He is doing a favor for a; you could say a client”.

Your heart rate lightly elevated as you realized what that meant. Hitman. He was on a mission to kill somebody for someone. “Do you think he is okay?” you asked, trying your best to sound like you were asking just for curiosity, not because you were worried.

Hyunjin smiled, “He’s the best, you got nothing to worry about”

“Hyunjin’s right. He’ll be back before you know it”

You believed them. They had known Han for so long you couldn’t question them. The two men finished their drinks, and you made your way out of the club to Hyunjin’s black Bugatti. The ride to the house was quiet.

Once you were back you headed straight for Han’s room, hoping he would have returned. You pushed the door open, the hinges slightly creaking. The room was dark, but you could see that it was empty, his bed untouched. You knew he had done multiple jobs like these and never gotten a scratch but you couldn’t fight the feeling in your stomach. Telling you that something was off.

You took a deep breath, and you could smell the scent of Han’s cologne in the room. You tried to calm your thoughts and walked to the living room. Changbin and Seungmin were sprawled on the couch, watching some sort of action movie. They barely glanced you as you entered, mumbling a greeting before focusing on the tv screen again.

You sat on one of the armchairs, trying to concentrate on the movie to get your thoughts elsewhere. Changbin seemed to notice your restlessness and paused the movie, looking at you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a mix of concern and boredom.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice light, “Yeah. Just worried about Han” you admitted. You didn’t care if the others noticed how you felt about Han. They had probably already realized it.

“He has the best shot in the Strays. He’s got it” Seungmin said, turning his focus back on the tv screen. Changbin hit the play button on the remote, the explosions and car chases of the movie filling the silence.

“You know Han. He’s more at home in a gunfight than he is in a kitchen” Changbin said, crossing his arms over his chest and making his position on the couch more comfortable.

You let out a weak laugh and curled up your legs, wrapping your arms around them. “I know. That’s what everyone keeps saying”

“Because it’s the truth” Seungmin nodded, eyes leaving the tv for a few seconds to look at you.

You left the conversation end in that. You knew there was nothing you could do but just wait for him to come back. For a while you watched the movie but started to get tired, pushing yourself off the chair and heading upstairs for your room. You changed into your pajamas, a grey top and black shorts before removing your makeup and glitter off your face. You climbed into the bed and laid there staring at the ceiling, letting sleep drift you away.

You woke up at some point and looked to the window. It was still night, the moon casting a silver glow into your bed. You threw back the covers and quietly made your way downstairs to check if Han was back. You looked into his room but to your disappointment it was still empty. You sighed and closed the door.

You heard mumbling from the living room and peaked in and there Han was, sitting on the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. He was mumbling to himself, and your attention moved to his shirt, it was soaked in blood. Your hand found it’s way over your mouth “Han” you whispered.

He looked up, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, “Hey y/n” he tried to speak carefully, but winced as his movements caused pain. “You’re hurt” you murmured, stepping closer to him. He was holding his shoulder, which probably was the source of all that blood. Han winced again as he stood up, “It’s not as bad as it looks. But I could use some help”

“What happened?” you asked, voice slightly trembling. You were right being worried about him and the job. Han’s eyes met yours “It’s part of the job. I’m okay, it’s just a flesh wound.” He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

You motioned him to follow you, “Let’s get it cleaned up” you said and moved to the big bathroom upstairs, Han following you. The cold tiles made you shiver as you stepped to the bathroom barefoot. Han sat on the toilet lid and took off the blood-stained t-shirt. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks flush red at the sight of his bare upper body. Also noticing the tattoo on his chest saying “Strays’. Han lifted the wounded arm on the sink so it would be easier to clean. Before he could catch you staring you started to look for a first-aid kit.

As you found one under the sink you moved closer to Han. The wound looked messy because of the dried blood around it. A bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a ragged wound on it, “It’s not too deep” you murmured, trying to reassure yourself as much as him.

You let water run over the wound to clear out the blood. Han hissed as the water stung the wound but didn’t flinch away. You cleaned the wound by rubbing and tapping the blood off. “What happened?” you asked softly, “Hyunjin and Felix told me you were doing a favor for a client”

Han’s eyes found yours as he answered “The target knew about the job and was prepared” he said clenching his jaw in pain. You could see sweat beading on his forehead, as it took effort for him to keep his body still.

“Were you able to do it?” you asked carefully, and Han nodded in response.

You gathered the necessary items to cover up the wound and returned to his side. “You know. You’re really ruining the whole ‘badass mafia guy’ with your clumsiness” you said, trying to bring some light to the situation.

Han cracked a smile “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and began tying the wound with a bandage. “I had a feeling tonight” you admitted, “I don’t know why, but something felt off”

“Intuition” Han murmured. “It has saved my life more times than I can count.”

You nodded, eyes staying on the bandage. “I couldn’t focus on the performance properly. All I could think about was you” you said voice barely above a whisper.

You could feel Han’s gaze softening, “You’re always on my mind, too” he murmured back. Your already racing heart felt like it would come out of your chest any minute now. Where you about to confess? Did he feel the same way towards you?

You swallowed hard and taped the bandage closed. You two went silent and you noticed that Han’s eyes never left you, staring right into your soul. When you finished the taping, you took a step back. “All done”

“Thank you” he smiled at you.

You nodded, “You should go rest. You have had it rough” you said gently.

Han’s eyes kept staring into your own, “Can I stay with you?” he whispered.

It felt like your heart stopped beating but you nodded slowly “Sure”. He smiled in return and grabbed your hand, walking you to your room. Your heart and mind were going crazy, was this really happening? The air was thick with tension as he let go of your hand and climbed under your sheets. He let out a long sigh with his body heavy with exhaustion and pain. You followed him and pulled the covers over you and turned to face Han who was already staring at you.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the clock ticking on the wall. You two laid in silence as your eyes wandered on his face. You surprised yourself with your actions as you reached your hand to brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “You should sleep” you whispered.

Han nodded, his eyes still not leaving yours. The silence grew heavier with anticipation. Your gaze lingered on his lips a moment too long. You felt the urge to lean in and close the gap between you but you held back. You were still unsure if he felt the same, even after his earlier words.

But Han seemed to think the same and didn’t hesitate. He gently tugged you closer and you could feel his warm breath against your lips. He looked into your eyes like searching for permission. He found it in your eyes, the way you looked at him and pressed his lips against you. His kiss was soft and you melted into the kiss, placing your hand on his cheeks. For that moment, everything else outside the room ceased to exit.

[taegularities]

C&F pregnancy drabble oh me oh my because what if the oc had a difficult pregnancy and jk talking to her tummy “Please dont give your mum a hard time baby” and he’s just touching and kissing her belly all the time like WAH

OH YOU KNOW HE WOULD, YOU KNOW IT BABY HHHHHH

[shawtuzi]

thinking about suguru and satoru eating your pussy at the same time heje

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine them both between your thighs, staring hungrily at your dripping pussy before gojo breaks the ice and thumbs at your already sensitive clit

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto soothing your little trembles by gently stroking your thigh, maybe even giving it a few kisses of encouragement <//3

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both of the men using one strong hand to push your plush thighs open, exposing yourself even more to them. if you dared try to shut your thighs even a tad they’d be pushed right back open, along with a quick slap the soft skin curtesy of geto

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine the two friends bickering for a moment before geto finally caves and lets gojo have the first taste

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine gojo wasting no time spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive nub. he couldn’t decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side sooo he settles on both! he hollowed his cheeks, holding your clit in place while his tongue continued moving with vigor

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto sucking on the soft skin of your thighs while his hand finds purchase on your bare breast, squeezing roughly every once in a while to keep you on your toes

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine geto slowly kissing his way towards your center before nudging gojo’s head with his own, giving the man a cheeky smile

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 imagine both men looking up at you before—

“a-ah!!! oh my-” your back suddenly arched off the bed as you felt not one, but two hot tongues on your clit. one slowly moving up and down, like they were trying to savor the taste of your essence—not too hard or too fast….just sensual. the other tongue on the other hand settled on quick, harsh licks sooo basically the exact opposite.

“s’good right ?” gojo slurred into your pussy, now sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole. geto took this as an opportunity to cup your entire clit in his mouth, while his tongue drew soft circles around the nub. geto hummed around your clit, spit dribbling from his lips from the sloppy kisses he was giving your weeping pussy.

all it took was gojo shoving his tongue in your pussy for your back to arch slightly off the bed as you came with a loud, pathetic whine. gojo moaned just as loud when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

geto pulled away from your clit with an obnoxious pop! dark eyes admiring at the mess your pussy has already become. “lemme get a taste,” he mumbled, leaning his head down to lick a slow strip up your pussy. but one lick was not enough! and it wasn’t long before gojo got a little jealous and smacked geto on the back of his head, a small grunt leaving him.

“‘fuck was that for?” geto hissed, but gojo didn’t even bother glancing at him, his attention focused solely on your soaked center. his long fingers ran slowly up and down your petal soft slit, occasionally applying light pressure to your clit. without warning he plunged two fingers in with a lewd squelching sound following, “we’re supposed to be sharing don’t be so greedy, now let’s make her cum again.”

“j-just be gentle m’still a little— hah! sensitiveeee,” your request fell on deaf ears as both mens tongues were on your clit once again. they went from synchronized licks, to each giving your clit an open mouth kiss, to taking turns slapping your pussy.

you tried to keep your eyes on them but you could only handle so much before you head fell back against your bed, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “m’gonna put my fingers in sweet thing,” geto mumbled into your thigh, giving it a sweet kiss before plunging two fingers inside you. getos fingers began doing a scissoring motion, and to help you avoid the stinging stretch gojo sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth.

“i’m gonna cu-cum againnn, you’re gonna make me—” your body tensed as another orgasm washed over you, a much pleasing sight for the two men before you. “fuck she’s squeezing me real fucking tight, ease up yeah? gonna make it real hard for gojo to put his in too,” geto growled, curling his fingers in the most delicious way possible.

you whined something along the lines of ‘i’m tryinggg’ and gojo could’ve just ate you up the way you were being so cute. “hehe she’s so cute the way she’s trying to keep it together, just let go baby we’re right here to catch you,” gojo giggled menacingly, his two fingers slowly prodding at your entrance.

“don’t forget to go slow, don’t wanna hurt the poor thing now,” geto patted your thigh before giving it a sharp swat.

it took a little time to get you used to the stretch of four fingers inside your tight little pussy, but you managed like the good girl you were for them. “oh my fuckin’…” your mouth dropped as both men began to move their fingers at a semi-fast synchronized pace, digits bumping against that special that had your toes curling.

geto eyed your lonely breast and brought his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, gojo following suit. there was so much going on and your poor little brain could only handle so much before you were spluttering out nonsense making the two men chuckle.

“look at how wet she is….dripping all over the fucking bed,” geto groaned, pushing his aching erection against the edge of your bed. anything to find a little relief he’s only human. “she’s squeezing so tight i think she’s gonna cum again!” gojo moved his hand from your nipple to your clit, rubbing tight little circles that had your thighs trembling.

you weren’t able to give them a verbal warning of intense orgasm, the only signal being being the clear stream of cum shooting from your pussy each time they pulled their fingers out. “catch some, but don’t swallow,” geto grunted, shoving gojos head down to catch some of your squirt in his already watering mouth.

once you were done they both slowly pulled their fingers out, a small whine leaving your lips from the emptiness. geto turned to gojo, his breathing uneven. “you know what to do,” he nodded his head towards you and gojo quickly understood, slowly crawling up the bed to where you laid, glazed eyes staring up the the ceiling with a fucked out smile on your face.

“open your mouth for him,” geto grunted squeezing the plushness of your thigh. you obliged and slowly opened your mouth, quickly met with the tart, tangy taste of your cum mixed in with a little of gojos spit. geto hummed happily giving your tummy a soft kiss, “that was fun, messy but fun nonetheless.”

the next twenty minutes were spent catering to your every need ofc. gojo having you between his legs, long arms wrapped around your waist while geto gently cleaned the mess up between your thighs. “did so good for us angel, thank you for letting us indulge in you,” gojo smiled, giving your hip a loving squeeze.

they both had raging boners but in this moment it was all about you but hey!! maybe once your rested up you’ll let them put both their dicks in you!! but don’t tell gojo that rn he might bust in his pants the poor thing :((

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𐙚⋆.˚

The white haired man using his fingers to spread your sticky, cum coated folds while Geto’s fat cock stretched you out. Creamy white spread along his veiny length as he fucked into you nice and slow.

“Look at that. So fuckin’ filthy Suguru. Your cock’s stretching her so wide.” Gojo groaned, leaning down to place a soft kiss to your clit, smirking against your skin when you trembled with a whine.

“She’s real noisy too. Pretty little slut’s taking my cock so well.” Geto grunted, pace speeding up as you moaned and whimpered beneath him. Your back arching with cry when Gojo began to rub quick circles on your clit. Your vision clouding as you sniffled at the overstimulation. “Suguu— hmm fuckk. I c-can’t, ‘m sensitive.”

He’d already made you cum so many times, fucking into you while Gojo whispered into your ear. Driving you over the edge again and again and again.

“Awww. You’re sensitive f’me huh baby?” Geto cooed, thumb wiping a stray tear off your cheek as you nodded shakily. “Hmm ‘s alright darling. You can take it ain’t that right Toru?”

“Of course she can, can’t ya sweetheart?”

“B-but-”

“I said you can take it baby. So you’re gonna take it like a good girl yeah?” Geto husked, his cock twitching as you whimpered with parted lips. Your body being rocked back and forth with each of his hard thrusts.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet. ‘S dripping everywhere baby.” Gojo groaned, eyes half lidded when he brought his face closer. Geto’s hand on the back of his head pushing him down into you. “Just give it t’ her already Toru.”

Gojo hummed, immediately getting to work lapping at your sopping pussy. Licking around Geto’s thick cock before swirling your clit into his mouth. Sucking at the sensitive bud with small moans of his own. Chin glistening with your slick as he buried his face as far between your puffy folds as he could.

“So damn sweet.” He grunted, hands spreading your thighs even further for both him and Geto. His tongue never slowing its torture as the other fucked you deep, hips repeating slamming into yours with a loud squelch. The lewd sound mixed with that of Gojo’s greedy tongue fogging both their brains and yours.

Your cries of their names getting louder as your stomach tightened, Gojo’s hard grip on your flesh preventing you from desperately pulling away from the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t— nngh, ‘s too muchh.”

“Yes you can. Just let go f’us okay? Give us one more ‘kay baby?”

You felt your toes curl, your body beginning to shake as you let out a whiny cry. The stimulation to both your g spot and your clit fogging your mind as your sensitivity intensified. Tears staining your flushed cheeks as yet another orgasm washed over you. This one even more powerful than the last.

“There ya go. That’s our good girl.” Geto grinned, watching as you quivered in their hold as he sloppily fucked himself with your tightness. Slowly coming to a stop to pump you deep n’ full of his cum. Gojo basking in how much wetter you had become.

They both pulled away from you. Matching smirks on their faces as you tried to catch your breath. A small pout on your face when you huffed tiredly, “Meanies.”

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

You met your incubus!husband late one night during a thunderstorm. Usually he wouldn't be out feeding in a time like this, but he was hungry... and once he caught a whiff of your scent, it was all over for him.

He entered through your window, ready to go into your dreams...

That's when he spotted you curled up on your bed, hands over your ears as you tried to stifle your terrified sobs.

His first reaction was... intrigue. Why was this human crying in the middle of the night? Why was she curled up with a stuffed animal, wasn't that a thing only children did when they were afraid?

The incubus felt something strange while observing your trembling form... but he pushed those feelings away. You were too panicked and scared to feed from, so he'd have to find a meal somewhere else...

But he paused when you looked up at him. Not because he was afraid he had been caught, no, he froze because of the look you gave him.

Your lip was trembling, hair messy and cheeks covered in tears. When you looked at him, he almost felt compelled to rush forward and pull you into his arms, to comfort you with soft kisses and gently rocking.

But why did he feel this way? Why was he beginning to walk towards your bed and reach out to place a hand on your hair to soothe your fear?

The way you instantly began to relax, leaning into his touch made him... feel something. Something other than lust.

"Thank you.."

His eyes lit up at the soft gratitude you showed him.

Had anyone ever thanked him before?

Before he could even think, his arms were wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer so he could shield you from the thunder and lightening. The loud sounds and bright flashes of light became blurry and muffled... and you finally found yourself able to sleep peacefully.

His visits became nightly after that. There was something about you that drew him in. He couldn't feed on anyone anymore, his heart wouldn't allow him.

You became friends quickly, though it was obvious to most that he was pining after you terribly. Every waking moment was spent thinking of you and the next night he'd be able to visit...

You noticed he was getting pale one late evening, his eyes a bit dull.

“Are you feeling okay, Lulu?”

His name was Lucian, something you learned after his second visit.

“Ahh… I’m alright. I just… haven’t fed in a while.”

Lucian settled down next to you, his tail gently caressing your thigh. It wasn’t on purpose, his tail was moving on its own due to how hungry he was. To anyone other demon it would be clear how much Lucian wanted to mate with you…

“Fed? You haven’t… um…”

Your cheeks felt warm against his shoulder. He sighed softly, nuzzling against your hair. No other person he had bedded with had a scent like yours. It was intoxicating…

“I haven’t had sex since we met.”

This made you feel kind of… flattered. The way he gently reached for your hand and held it, the soft smile he had when looking at you…

Oh.

“Is it… because of me?”

His cheeks flushed a light pink, and she looked away. “… perhaps.”

His tail swayed before beginning to move up the skirt of your nightgown. He immediately looked embarrassed, trying to pull it away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it moves on its own when I’m…”

You shook your head, opening your legs a little to give his tail access.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Well…”

You smiled shyly, squeezing his hand back. “I… wouldn’t mind providing you with a meal.”

He was gentle, his tail slipping under your panty line to play with your clit as the two of you shared your first kiss.

Lucian tasted like strawberries and honey, you couldn’t get enough. When he reached a clawed hand to hold onto your soft cheek, you instantly leaned into his touch.

He had never kissed someone like this before. Usually they were quick, heated with tongue and gnashing teeth…

But you slowly licked his bottom lip, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants as he explored your mouth. It was so sensual and tender that he could almost cry.

‘I… think I love her…’

With that revelation, his slit pupils expanded and he pinned you down, his tail rubbing your own slick against your pretty hole before plunging in.

“L-Lucian!”

You whines out in a mix of pleasure and discomfort, getting used to the feeling of his tail fucking in and it of your as his lips moved to your neck. His tail pumped aphrodisiacs into your body, making your head get fuzzy and your pussy throb with need.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t take it anymore. Your cum was intoxicating, he was starving!

Lucian sank his cock into your, watching as you writhed and bucked your hips, your pussy gushing and clenching around him.

The two of you were a heated mess of needy kisses and cum, both unable to pull away. He had already had his fill, but continued to fuck into your fat cunt, watching as his cum spurted out of you with each thrust.

By the end of the night the two of you were clinging to each other, exhausted but happy. He had never been so worn out in his life… or as satisfied. As Lucian gazed down at your sleepy face, he knew then that you would be his wife soon enough.

He kissed your head and fell asleep too, leaving his life of being an incubus that slept with whoever he could behind.

Lucian would be your devoted husband now, until you died, and even beyond that. A demon’s love could last lifetimes…

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[moechies]

cockwarming w/ toji !! 𝜚 𓈒 kitty hybrid

toji’s kitty girlfriend who purrs when she feels too good :3

impaled on the fat girthy cock of your beloved owner, wet slick pasting his strong thighs and soft cunt throbbing against his plump balls.

you gently groom the slight stubble on his soft chin, dragging your tongue over and over against his jaw, humming and purring with delight.

your thighs shiver gently below, and toji feels it; the way your soft skin trembles against his waist. he’s entertained with his new pet, and enjoys her grooming but doesn’t forget about her bad habit; her sharp little claws dug deep into his back, drawing strings of crimson blood.

he would tell you to stop, pull the soft endearing hands of your own away from his skin, but he can’t fathom the pouty look on your face if he were to do so. a nervous glimmer in your eyes as your ears fold back when you realize what you’ve been doing to hurt your sweet master, and all unintentionally because you were caught up in the overwhelming pleasure of getting to groom and warm him.

“cuteee fuckin’ kitty, aren’t you?”

so he lets it by this time, lets you continue your kitten licks to his face, sneaking in a couple long kisses against his top lip, or the corner of his mouth. he pulls you close when he feels your little body vibrate gently against his own, consistent and satisfied purrs accompanied by honeyed chants of, ‘i love you, master’ s.

toji chuckles, scratching gently behind your ear and stroking the soft fluff. he thrusts above out of the blue, girthy cock bottoming out fully and impaling your poor cunt. you squeal unexpectedly, nails digging a tad deeper into the man’s back. he hisses at the pain, but laughs it off in mere seconds.

he looks below, attentive to the way you purr against his chest, face hidden against his fat tit. you purr loudly, along with short breathy moans, ones you try to cover up with heavy breaths in hopes they toji won’t hear.

“m-master.” you purr, holding back pants.

“what is it, kitty?” toji grins, hand moving from your waist and coming up to your neck. he fidgets at your little bell of a collar, engraved nicely on the metal in a bold cursive, ‘return to toji fushiguro if lost ♡.’ he smiles at the memory that plays of your sweet self when he first showed you the endearing gift.

“wan’ it, please, wan’ you to fuck me.”

“oh? that’s so dirty, sweet thing.” he teases, lifting your face by your chin to face him. your cheeks flush and your lips are pouty, and you’ve never looked cuter.

“n-not true. wan’ your milk, daddy.” you whisper with a sly smile, eyes lidded as you resume your gentle purring.

“is that right..” he mumbles. he thrusts up once again, moving himself forward so that you’re leaning against him, hands pressed against his chest.

“how does this little kitty want it ?” you assume he’s referring to you, but instead he drags a heavy finger from your soft butt, tracing against your skin to reach your soft belly; landing right above the imprint of his cock. his digit presses on the budge slightly, making you squirm before he moves down to your cute pussy, leaving swipes across your pearly clit.

“master—“

“tell me, pretty little thing.”

“from behind, please, doggy. wan’ y’to fuck me from b-behind, ‘kay?”

“oh, aren’t you just so sweet.”

you hiccup, feeling the man’s large body splay across your back as you’re placed gently on your arms and knees. his cock doesn’t dislodge from you once, fat tip nudged snugly in your cunt as he flips you over. your face plants into the soft sheets, knees melting into the mattress with the man’s added weight.

“doggy.. ironic, huh?” he laughs.

“stooop it..” you purr into the sheets, fur clad tail tickling at his soft skin.

his hand wraps around the base of your tail, tugging it up high for easier access. he watches how your milky pussy throbs erratically around him, rim of your stretched cunt a tad shade darker.

slick drools from your soddened holes against your thighs, transferring and coating his cock and the scruffy hairs against his shaft. your folds perfectly accommodate his cock, wrapping neatly around the man’s girth.

your butthole sits above your pretty pussy perfectly, clenching ever so often at the vulnerability of the position, and how you can basically feel the man’s eyes boring into your cunt, and chubby butt.

“master— hnn… no more staring please, w-wan’ you to fuck me !” you shimmy your butt closer to his pelvis, moaning when you press yourself impossibly further onto his dick. “m-master! pleaseee..!”

“shh calm down, little pet. y’r gonna get what ya want, i promise.”

your tail wraps around his forearm, leading his hand to your waist. you gaze back at him with lidded eyes, glimmering in the dim light with coated, pouty lips. “master—“

“settle down, now. trust me, this little pussy’s gonna get what she wants.” he leans over, catching your lips in a heated kiss. “..and this one too.” he mumbles against your lips. you feel the corner of his mouth curl, scar dragging across your lips as he brings a thumb against your clit.