#worthless drabble

[livelaughwhump]

Could i request a landon and elliot drabble ?? Maybe Lyra wanted them to spend more time together and landon is kind of nervous of making elliot scared since he isn't exactly the most gentle person. But he ends up reading elliot a story until elliot falls asleep in his arms and thats when Lyra comes in and shes like melting at the cuteness and reassurance

sorry for rambling

Of course! This is such a precious idea!

Masterlist

Content: fear of physical abuse, very brief mention of noncon

-

"You're-You're leaving?" There were tears in Elliot's eyes and his lower lip was wobbling pathetically. He looked so frightened, and the sight all but broke Lyra's heart.

Lyra, Karine, Broderick, and Yvonne were all gathered at the front door, grabbing their coats and bags as they prepared to run their respective errands. Elliot was stood before the group, trembling.

"Only for a bit. It won't be all day, I promise," Lyra assured him.

Karine frowned. "I'm sorry, bud. Broderick, Yvonne, and I have to meet with a colleague about, uh...something. We'll probably be out for the rest of the day."

Yvonne smiled sadly. Placing a gently hand under Elliot's chin, she planted a small kiss to his forehead. "Don't worry, love. We'll be back tonight. Landon will be here to keep you company, all right? We love you." She ruffled his hair a bit a tapped the tip of his nose before giving him a warm smile and walking out the front door. Karine and Broderick were quick to follow her.

Elliot looked up at Lyra as the door shut behind his other teammates, his tears starting to overflow. "Please-Please, don't go."

Lyra sighed. "I'm sorry, sunshine. I just need to head out to the farmer's market to grab a few things. I won't be gone long, and it's like Yvonne said, Landon will be here to protect you. He's ordering pizza as we speak and you'll have the whole house to yourselves. He'll take good care of you, I promise."

Elliot sniffled. Their words did little to quell the growing fear and anxiety in the pit of his stomach. As hard as Landon had been trying, he was still such a large and imposing presence that Elliot couldn't stand to be around. It made Elliot feel so unbelievably guilty, but he couldn't help it. Every time they were alone together, Elliot expected Landon to beat him or humiliate him or force his legs apart.

Lyra could see the panic on Elliot's face and quickly kneeled down in front of him. "Hey," they whispered gently. "It's okay. I promise it's okay. Has Landon ever hurt you before?" Elliot whined and shook his head. "Then why would he start now?

"B-Because n-no one will b-be here to-to s-stop him," Elliot mumbled.

Lyra frowned. "Sunshine, he won't hurt you. I promise. I'll be back as soon as I can. Would it make you feel better if I had a talk with him before I left?" Elliot thought for a moment and nodded. "Okay. Then, wait right here. I'll be right back." With a quick kiss to Elliot's cheek, Lyra stood up and made their way into the kitchen, where Landon was just getting off the phone.

Landon looked up when she entered the room. "Hey, Lye. Pizza's been ordered. How is he?"

Lyra sighed and shook her head. "Not good. He's really scared. He looked like he was about to throw up."

Landon sighed. "Really? I thought he was getting used to me."

Lyra shrugged. "I guess that's only when all of us are in the house. He said that if the rest of us are gone, there's no one to stop you from hurting him."

"But I would never hurt him!" Landon exclaimed.

"I know that, but he doesn't. I need you to be extra gentle with him today, Landon. You two used to be really close, and I want him to trust you again, but that entirely depends on you. You didn't exactly make a great first impression after we rescued him."

Landon rubbed at the headache forming behind his eyes. "I know. I want him to trust me too, but I don't know how to get him to."

Lyra shrugged again. "I can't tell you how to make him trust you. You'll have to figure that out on your own."

Landon rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk, Lye."

"Figure it out, Landon," Lyra said. "And if you hurt him, I swear to god, I will end you." With that, they turned and left Landon staring out into the living room where Elliot was hugging himself and trembling on the couch. They gave Elliot one last hug before telling him goodbye and walking out the door.

Landon saw Elliot shudder and heard a tiny whimper when the door shut behind Lyra. He was pretty sure he could see Elliot trembling. Landon sighed. He could be gentle. It was just like taking care of Colleen when they were kids, only Elliot's fears were so much deeper and darker than hers.

Landon slowly entered the living room, careful to make his presence known. He didn't want to frighten Elliot by being too quiet. Elliot looked at him briefly before turning his eyes to the ground. Landon shifted his weight nervously. "So, uh...I ordered pizza. Shouldn't take too long to get here, so...I hope you're hungry." Elliot didn't react. "I got your favorite. Pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese, right?" Elliot still didn't react. He was shutting down, and Landon couldn't let that happen. He had to figure out a way to make Elliot feel safe.

Landon rushed over to him, which only served to make Elliot flinch. Landon silently cursed himself as he sat down in front of Elliot. "Elliot? You okay, bud?"

Elliot looked at him. "Y-Yes, Sir."

Landon's heart dropped. It had been so long since Elliot had called him that. He didn't mean to scare him. "You seem a little on edge. Is there anything I can do?"

"N-No, Sir. I'm o-okay."

Landon sighed. He didn't know what to do. "Would you...like to talk?"

Elliot glanced at him again. "About what, Sir?"

Landon shrugged. "Anything. If something's bothering you, we can talk about it. If there's anything you wanna get off your chest? Or even if you just want to talk about...I don't know, cats or something. We can talk about anything."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Cats, Sir?"

Landon nodded. "Yeah, you like cats, right? I think I remember you saying something like that once."

Elliot's cheeks turned bright red. "Well, I, um...y-yes, Sir."

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed. I'm not really a huge fan of cats, but we can talk about them if you want. Anything to make you feel more comfortable."

Elliot hunched his shoulders in slightly. "That's okay, Sir. We-We don't have to t-talk about something you-you don't l-like."

"I mean, it's not like I hate them or anything. I'm just not a huge fan of house pets in general."

Elliot nodded. "I-I see." He lowered his head even further and continued to fidget with his hands. He picked at the skin around his fingernails until they were red and raw.

Landon sighed. They weren't getting anywhere. Elliot didn't seem more scared of him, so perhaps that was something to be happy about. Still. Elliot couldn't seem to take the "Sir" title out of his mouth. Landon would need a different strategy. Luckily, he had another idea.

"Wait here, Elliot. I'll be right back," Landon said.

Elliot nodded. "Yes, Sir," he mumbled.

Landon didn't waste any time. He rushed to Yvonne's room and scanned her bookcase. She could've had hundreds of books in there, which Landon supposed wasn't a bad thing. He didn't know what most of them were about, but he wanted something light and fluffy; something that wouldn't stress Elliot out or scare him out of sleep. Eventually, he landed on a thick book called Worlds Away with a picture of a purple Earth ringed in gold on the cover. Reading the synopsis, it seemed like something Elliot would thoroughly enjoy. It was a beautiful book. Landon just hoped it would be enough to help Elliot relax.

Elliot was still in the same position when Landon returned; curled up on the couch with his knees up to his chin.

Landon's heart dropped, but he forced a smile to his face. "Hey, I got a book from Yvonne's room. Thought maybe I could read to you again."

Elliot glanced at the book, then up to Landon, and then back again. His expression was difficult to read. The idea didn't seem to disinterest him, though he didn't seem particularly thrilled by it either.

"That's-That's very kind of you, Sir."

"Yeah? Is that okay with you? I want you to be comfortable, so we don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Elliot nodded. "I-I'd like that, Sir. Thank you very much."

Landon smiled and slowly sat down beside Elliot on the couch, careful to keep a healthy distance between them. He turned to the first page and started to read aloud. It wasn't long before Elliot scooted a little closer in order to see the pages, even though he couldn't read them. Landon gladly tilted the book so that Elliot would follow along, internally sighing in relief that Elliot was comfortable being close to him.

Landon read for so long that he didn't stop until he heard snoring beside him. Landon had just finished chapter twelve when Elliot fell asleep. The boy's head was resting on Landon's shoulder and his mouth was hanging open. Drool dripped from his open lips and onto Landon's t-shirt, but Landon didn't mind. At least the boy could get some rest.

It was then that Landon realized just how heavy his own eyes were. So, he leaned his head on the back on the couch and allowed himself to doze off. He'd never been a particularly avid reader. Perhaps he'd simply done too much reading for one day. Landon was out moments after he closed his eyes.

. . .

Lyra was terrified when they walked through the door. They had no idea what to expect, but they hoped for the best. They'd only been gone a couple hours, but their anxiety had been eating away at them since the moment they'd stepped out the door. Elliot had been so terrified to be alone with Landon. The look on his face was absolutely heartbreaking. Even though Lyra knew that Landon would never do anything to hurt Elliot, there was still a tiny voice in the back of their mind that worried that Elliot's fears had been confirmed.

When they finally stepped through the door, however, what they found washed a flood of relief all throughout their body. Both Elliot and Landon were fast asleep on the couch, a book open on the larger man's lap. There was an untouched box of pizza in front of both of them and a blanket over Elliot's small shoulders.

Lyra smiled and quickly fished their phone out of their bag in order to take a picture before either man could wake up and ruin the precious moment.

-

I hope you enjoyed!! Poor Landon has no idea how to deal with Elliot, but he's learning and eventually, Elliot will be as comfortable around him as he is around Lyra.

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[blackrosesandwhump]

March of Pain Day 26: Worthless

CW: royal whumpee, emotional/psychological whump

Shut in his bedroom, the prince couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight in the full-length mirror.

A being that looked less than human. Colorless eyes set in a face of rough, greyish skin. Ears that tapered almost to points. Yellowed teeth slightly too big for his mouth. Thin arms that didn’t seem to belong to his body.

His reflection nauseated him.

Worthless. He was worthless, as a human but especially as a prince. Who could possibly submit to his authority when he looked like that?

But no one knew. No one knew, beyond the walls of the castle, except for his mother the queen and a handful of trusted, discreet servants who were routinely punished to enforce their silence.

Someone knocked on his door, three slow knocks followed by three quick ones. The prince jumped despite the signal and whirled around, automatically scrabbling for something to hide his face though he didn’t need it.

“Come in.”

The servant entered, swiftly closing the door and crossing to the prince’s side.

“Your Highness, it’s time to dress. Your audience is waiting in the Great Hall.”

Worthless. He would always be worthless, as long as he looked like a monster.

“Help me, then,” he ordered, more sharply than he intended, “and bring me my mask.”

@marchofpain

#marchofpain2024 #day 26 #worthless #royal whump #royal whumpee #emotional whump #psychological whump #self doubt #blackroseswrites #whump snippet #whump drabble #fairytale whump #castle #self worth #mask #mirror #reflection

[azullumi]

“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun. 

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song. 

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” 

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#—stellaronhvnters. #hsr imagines #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #hsr angst #hsr #star rail #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai x reader #honkai #aventurine x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #azul.writes

[greatstormcat]

A Reason To Go On - Part 1

Stalker!Ghost x f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, stalking & obsessive behaviour, dub/con, mental health issues

Authors note: this came about following a series of drabbles which I’ve put links to below which may be useful to read beforehand. Written in one sitting and not edited!

Drab 1 Drab 2 Drab 3 Drab 4 Drab 5

AO3 version where everything has been merged

Series Masterlist

Simon sat looking across the kitchen table at Price, both nursing barely touched glasses of bourbon. The surface was immaculately clean, having never been used since it was bought a few months ago. Like much of the items and furniture in the little flat he now called home. Price was looking at him, waiting for him to speak, and the silence was eating up the last of the air in the room.

“Is it really that bad, Simon?” Price prompted him, his tone serious and maddeningly sympathetic. He was always Simon now, Ghost was gone, dead and buried the way he should have stayed all those years ago. He hadn’t even touched a balaclava since he left, using a black medical mask instead when he felt the need.

“No, not really,” Simon shrugged, turning the glass on the table idly. He didn’t look up at his Captain, no that was wrong, his ex-Captain. “Been keeping myself busy reading, exercise, you know,” he finished dismissively.

“You’ve kept up with that therapist?” Price asked, knowing the answer was most likely going to be a negative.

“Sure,” Simon lied. He hadn’t been to any appointments with a therapist since his medical discharge, and he would rather… No, can’t finish that thought as that’s what got him into this mess in the first place. Chucked out on civvy street with a fat pension and nothing to do, no purpose to serve after all these years. At least Price had arranged the pension so he didn’t have to worry about his name getting into circulation, not with his past. The flat was rented under a pseudonym and paid for by some shady forces protection scheme. He didn’t need that catching up with him now.

“Look, I’m settled in and getting myself sorted. You don’t need to come all the way here and check on me,” Simon grumbled, not bothering to hide how much he resented Price these days. He hadn’t fought for him, hadn’t tried to keep him on the Taskforce when that shrink had stamped his file as unfit for duty. Anger issues, poor impulse control, danger to self and others. Price huffed and knocked back his drink. These visits always ended the same, full of regret and bitterness.

“Okay, son,” he said, getting up and looking around the barely furnished flat one last time. “I’ll let you be, but I’ll be back when I can. Why not think about what I said though, try and get a hobby, something to focus on.”

Price left soon after and Simon finished his glass before heading towards the spare bedroom, his office as he liked to think of it. He’d found his left a purpose, no thanks to Price. He had a reason to carry on now, and it meant everything to him. Flicking on the lightswitch the rows and rows of photographs on the wall were illuminated, all showing images of you at various times since he had first seen you.

With a smile he relaxed into the chair by the desk, looking up at the photos. You were his life now, he was dedicated to taking care of you. Since that first day he’d seen you he had dealt with your worthless ex-boyfriend, making sure the little shit stain never bothered you again, scared off several unworthy bastards in the pub you met your friends in, and put some small security cameras in the downstairs areas of you house so he could check on you from his laptop.

You were the focus of his every waking moment, and even when he slept now he pictured you in his dreams and woke hard and throbbing. At the start of this he had sworn to himself he would keep his distance, not let you know he existed so he didn’t burden you with his problems. But it was getting harder and harder not to sit and imagine what the touch of your hand would be like, you were a brave and kind soul, would you turn him away if he spoke to you?

That was why he had answered the note on your coffee table. The chance to make a connection to you was too great a temptation, and he let himself slip and grab the chance. This would be a slippery slope.

As midnight nears he makes his nightly pilgrimage to your house, his motorbike left at the end of your road before he walks closer, not wanting to disturb you with the noise. The footholds he made in your garden wall months ago allow him to quickly and quietly scale the wall, and he fishes out the key he copied for your back door, letting himself into your kitchen. He cocks his head and listens carefully making sure you aren’t moving around upstairs, and he hears nothing.

By now, he knows to look at the notepad on the table in the living room. There’s always a small note written there since he’d replied to the message you’d left all those weeks ago. Tonight, however, the pad is missing and he feels a pang in his heart. Why haven’t you left a note tonight? Has your tolerance for him dried up now? He feels a creeping fear, another loss looming in his future that he isn’t ready to cope with, not when he has already lost so much in the past.

He moves up the stairs, having memorised where to step and where to avoid so no creaks come from the wood. Your bedroom is at the top, and he has spent many hours sat in the hallway outside your bedroom door just to listen to the steady sound of your breathing. More than once you’ve gone to the bathroom and walked right past him, never bothering with putting on lights at night. He looks through the open doorway, a thin beam of light shining through the gap in the curtains and across your form under the bed covers.

Tonight though, your breathing sounds different, and he realises you aren’t asleep in the darkness. When you sit up, he freezes.

“You’re there, aren’t you?” you say to the darkened bedroom, absolutely certain you can hear soft breathing in the shadows by the door. You’re still not sure who or what you’re talking to, but you know that there is someone listening to you.

Simon remains calm. It's the first time you’ve spoken directly to him and he can’t quite process the fact that the object of his desires has come this close to actually perceiving him. Both the last thing in the world he wanted, and the one thing he has needed more than anything in his entire life. For several heartbeats he wrestles with himself deciding wether to answer you or not.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he finally answers, deep voice carrying around the room easily. He watches you carefully in the thin slither of light, sees your tiny flinch as you hear him and the involuntary swallow in your throat, but you don’t panic.

“Will you tell me why you’re here?” You ask, unable to hide the slight tremble in your voice. You’re so brave, his heart swells with pride at how you handle waking up to a strange man in your house, your very bedroom. You’d have made an amazing soldier.

“Just checkin’ you’re okay. I check on you a lot,” he admits.

“How long have you been doing this?” He can see a frown on your features, you’re trying to piece this all together now.

“Few months,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders which draws your attention. You see the movement and realise just how large the shape in the shadows is, your eyes going wider in shock. His frame fills the doorway in width and height, and a tiny voice in your head tells you that you should be terrified, but you aren’t. If this man meant you harm you’d be dead already, months ago apparently. Instead he was getting into your house and doing the stuff that, and you feel your brain stutter at this thought, a boyfriend would do.

“Okay, and you’ve been doing more than that haven’t you? You’ve been following me around and helping me out haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Why?”

“Wanna keep you safe, and happy,” he grunts with a frown, not wanting to dwell on that question.

“You could do that without breaking into my house, without hiding yourself from me.”

“I didn’t really want to bother you, I don’t need anyone to take care of me and it’s just easier this way,” he tells you, hearing how hollow his own words sound to his ears.

“Look, I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing, but this isn’t… normal,” you say, hugging your knees to your chest now as you settle into this off situation. Again, you tell yourself you should be screaming and calling the police but there is a sadness about this man that you can’t ignore. “Why don’t you come and sit with me and we can talk?”

“Wait,” comes his brusque reply, and your eyebrows raise. He steps back from the doorway and down the stairs, not nothing to mask his footsteps now, and returns with a scarf that was hanging at the bottom of the stairs in one hand. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, holding the scarf in one hand where you can see it.

“A blindfold. Why? Are you ugly?” you tease, the words hitting him like a bullet between the eyes and a smile forming across his face.

“Quite the opposite,” he replies, feeling warmth spread through his chest at such a poignant exchange of words. It's almost as though you knew…

You close your eyes. Listening carefully as you hear him moving closer, the faint rustling of fabric is just audible. A blindfold settles over your eyes, thick and heavy, blotting out anything you might have been able to see even in the darkness.

Then, and only then, do you feel the mattress dipping down a long way as he sits on the edge of the bed. Tentatively you lift one hand and blindly reach out to touch him, after a moment or two he takes your hand in his, warm fingers and a calloused palm encapsulating your own. On a whim, you pull, urging him to move closer to you. At first he resists, the bed shifts and for a moment you worry he is going to get up and leave, but you hold onto his hand and tug again. He relents and leans over towards you, and warm face rests against your shoulder, hair tickling your cheek, and you wrap your arms around huge shoulders.

It’s as though a dam breaks inside Simon, the moment you put your arms around him he melts against you, gently pushing you back against the mattress as he lies down beside you. One of his legs hooks over yours over the covers and his arm drapes over your stomach, pinning you into place as his face rests against the exposed skin at the crook of your neck.

You feel a hot rush of air leave his lungs, heating your neck, and a tiny groan tinged with such sadness escapes him. The sound plucks at your heart and you rub your cheek against his hair, encouraging him to nuzzle into you even further, as though we would climb into your chest if it were an option.

“What should I call you, now that we are finally talking? You already know my name,” you murmur.

“Ghost,” he replies, his lips tickling your skin as he speaks and a shiver runs down your spine.

“I thought you were a ghost to start with, so that’s appropriate,” you reply.

He grunts and touches his lips to your neck again, feeling you shudder again as he is draped over you. He tried a small kiss, his control evaporating by the second as you respond to him to readily, and when you sigh softly it vanishes. He kisses you desperately, moans accompanying every movement of his lips until his mouth is on yours, hot and needy. From the darkness of the blindfold you kiss him back, hands framing the face you cannot see and the weight of his body shifting until you are crushed into the mattress below you.

The bed covers are pulled away from you, cool air reaching through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you are wearing until his warmth settles against you, pushing your knees apart so his clothed erection presses against your crotch. He humps you through his clothes, a frantic and needy action as his kisses continue to burn your mouth with their ferocity.

Little moans and whines escape you as you let him drink his fill of you, the amount of passion he has for you like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You hands trace over his shoulders, tracing firm muscle as he lifts your T-shirt and kisses down you body, stopping to grope roughly at your breasts before he kisses across your stomach to your underwear.

His mouth moves across the fabric, hot and hungry, pressing into your folds and causing arousal to flood through you. The wetness is unmissable as he grinds his face into you, fingers digging into your thighs. You hear a zip being undone.

“No, wait,” you try to slow him down by putting your hands on his chest but he is too far gone now, muttering praises and words of adoration like he is reciting a memorised prayer. Your underwear is pulled down roughly, stinging your legs as he drags it down carelessly and the tip of his erection is pressed against your dripping cunt before you have time to think again.

Simon presses into you, his head hanging from his shoulders loosely as he focuses on the sensation of your heat enveloping his cock. He shudders and pauses when he is halfway in, looking to your face and wishing he could see your eyes, but that would be too much for him and he knows it. Your mouth gapes open, back arched and you whimper when he slowly thrusts forward again.

“Fuck… your perfect,” he whispers, watching his length disappearing inside of you. “So perfect for me.” When he hilts himself in your cunt he leans down and kisses your neck again, hands gripping your shoulders so you are totally surrounded by his body, entirely surrounded and filled by him. Your arms are trapped between your chest and his, leaving you no way to move with his weight on top of you. He pulls his hips back, almost completely pulling out before slowly pushing back in, sparking intense pleasure as you feel his thickness stretching you open. Every vein and ridge of his cock can be felt, and when he bottoms out again he presses against your cervix and you whine at the sensation.

“Its okay,” he whispers, kissing your neck and nipping at your skin as he holds you tightly, not letting you move as you lay in total blindness while he slowly fucks you. “Everythings fine, this is so good, you feel so good.” His hips begin to snap against yours as he picks up the pace, the pleasure from each thrust bleeding into the next as he speeds up until you’re riding a never ending wave of electricity. The sounds of his skin on yours mix with his grunts and praises, creating a filthy symphony of sounds around you.

The pressure against your clit spurs your impending orgasm, and you rock your hips to chase the release, coaxing him to thrust harder into your aching hole.

“Gonna cum,” he starts to moan, “gonna cum in you.” He repeats it over and over, his voice cracking as he speaks, and the words push you over the edge. Your cunt grips and clenches onto his cock as you cum, crying out his name and with a harsh groan he pours himself into you.

His head falls into the crook of your neck as he catches his breath and after a while carefully pulls his softening cock out of you, making you wince.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” He asks, going still as he hovers over you.

“No it’s okay. You just have… large equipment,” you say weakly, and feel a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t, you know, ask about that first,” he says, frowning at himself as he lowers himself beside you on the bed. He’s meant to be protecting you not taking advantage of you, but it felt so good. He feels wetness on his cheeks and wipe his face with the back of his hand.

“It was intense,” you say, “but it’s fine, don’t worry.” You turn and press yourself into him, this large and solid man that you don’t know, but trust for no good reason. He stays a while longer until you fall asleep, but when you wake up with your morning alarm he is gone. The scarf is neatly folded up on the bedside table, a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it ontop with the words ‘if you need me’ written under them.

When you go downstairs he has even put out a mug and teabag by the kettle for you, locking the door as he had left.

Taglist @ghosts-cyphera @katamari-possum @kkaaaagt @n1ght4ngel

#stalker!ghost #tw stalking #cod modern warfare #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost riley #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost simon riley #simon ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you

[rinhaler]

HI CAN YOU PLZ DO LIKE A DRABBLE OR SOMETHING OF SUKUNA MAKING OUT WITH US AND THEN PUTTING HIS HAND UNDER OUR SKIRT AND THEN USING THE MOUTH ON HIS HAND TO EAT US OUT WHILE WE KISS SUKUNA. PLZ IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH MWAH ILY

This prompt is SO scrumptious I had too much fun with this omggggg

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, degradation, fingering, monster fucking?, pussy eating, squirting, mutual pining (they are both low key in love but haven't confessed lmao), dom!sukuna, sub!reader.

words: 1.9k

“You aren’t ready.”

His words ring true but your lip wobbles nonetheless. Sukuna’s true form is something you can only dream about for now, it seems. But your want and agonising desperation to see it, see him, is becoming overwhelming.

You’ve heard about it in such visceral detail. Other sorcerer’s have told you bits and pieces during your time on campus, although, each specific trait told to you by Sukuna himself makes you quiver as adoration further engulfs you. Learning more about who and what he is makes you want him more.

Sure, this might make you a traitor by Jujutsu law, but you don’t care. You can’t possibly care when you’re so infatuated with him. He makes you feel special, too. Because of all of the human beings, all of the women in the world, he chose to take an interest in you.

His lips slot against yours, thumb stroking across your cheek in an uncharacteristic show of attentiveness as he notes your disappointment. You aren’t sure if he loves you, and truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever know. But when he’s gentle like this, it feels like love.

“I-I’m ready, I promise.” you tell him as your mouth widens to accept his forceful tongue. Your heart skips a beat when you note his hesitation. You’re not foolish enough to think his interest in you makes you exempt from his ability to swiftly end your life. So you swallow thickly as your eyes search his, red glaring irises that warn you to remember your place. They drop to your throat as he watches the journey of your saliva bobbing through your oesophagus before his eyes fix back to your own.

“I will not only decide when you’re ready,” he starts, clawed fingers grab your chin and roughly turn your head so he can finish rasping his point into your ear. “I will decide when you are worthy. Do you understand?”

Not a word makes it by your lips before that heavy grasp on your chin is forcing you to nod your head like a subservient pet. You shudder as his thick, tattooed tongue curls against your cheek. He’s tasting the salt of a tear you didn’t even know was there.

“You know… I don’t have much time or patience for little girls who don’t listen to what I say.” he tells you, his head tilts backwards and his eyes are suddenly looking down at you like you’re worthless. “I’ll cut this short for today.” he finishes.

It’s a devastating blow, but you know better than to argue. So you nod in acceptance, and now you do feel the second tear that has escaped to begin rolling down your cheek. There’s an uncomfortable ache between your thighs, your arousal pooling and soaking through the seat of your panties. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something you can only denote as suspicion as you squeeze your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“You’re soaking aren’t you?” he asks, looking you up and down. You can only imagine how wide your eyes are as he speaks, filled with shame and humiliation that he’s been able to read you with such ease. He laughs, though it’s short and restrained, but his smile remains wide as he looks at you with fangs bared. “I can smell it.”

“Jesus.” you sigh, covering your face with your hands. You yelp as large, veiny hands encase your wrists and rip them away from your bewildered face.

“I barely kissed you. And you’re that wet?” he begins. He sounds incredulous, but he grins once again when he sees your expression change from acceptance to embarrassment. “You truly wish to fuck a monstrous being so desperately? That’s why you became a sorcerer. What would your superiors say?”

“That’s not—” you sigh, stopping yourself from continuing before you say something he’ll chastise you for. “If we aren’t doing this, you should just go.”

You barely blink before you realise you’re looking up at the ceiling. Four barely open eyes look down at you with a combination of lust and malice lingering in them, but you can’t care for too long as he starts to kiss you so sloppily with passion and reverence. You moan pathetically, and he smiles into your kiss as he begins to hump his body like a beast against smaller prey.

“You dare talk back to me while your cunt is drenched like this?” he asks, the contrasting words from his almost loving body language makes your head spin. Another, heartier moan rips from your throat as his words rush to your sopping heat. “You got wetter when you saw all of my eyes. This room might turn into a hot spring if you see all of me.”

“S-Stop it,” you object, horrified by his mocking words. “It’s not—” you’re silenced with another kiss, and you’re a little surprised to hear him moan, too, as you cup his face gently with both hands as he kisses you.

“We might both drown if I pin you down with four arms. If I devour your arousal with the mouth on my stomach. If I fuck whichever holes I desire with two cocks.” his heavy breath disguises a laugh.

You can’t object anymore, you can’t express your humiliation so you just take it. Your mouth stays open so that he can curl his tongue against yours, retracting as it smooths over the back of your teeth.

His eyes remain on yours as his hand finds itself under the bend of your knee, expression surprisingly stoic as he forcefully pushes it away from your other leg until it’s pinned at an almost uncomfortable angle. A sharp breath leaves you at that moment, and still, his face doesn’t change.

“I’ll make you cum, one last time.” he assures you, hand slithering beneath your displaced skirt. You whimper, though there isn’t a specific reason why. Whether it be the claim that this will be your final tryst with Sukuna or the fact that his fingers are toying with the sodden material of your panties, it’s a heady combination that’s enough to make you cry.

“Okay…” you breathe. He smirks at the way you bite your lip as he circles your clit through your dripping cotton underwear.

He pulls the material off your body, discarding them who knows where as he smothers your lips with his own yet again. It’s enough, you think. It’s enough that you’ll be fingered by the King of Curses as a final farewell, albeit a little boring. He’s being considerate of you, he’s putting your pleasure before his own, and in spite of that you’d rather he’d fuck you until your brain turns to a pink soup that drips from your ears after his cock renders you unconscious.

“This will be a reminder that no man will compare for the rest of your days. You will never cum in the ways that I can make you.” he tells you, almost as if it were a promise.

He’s right, you know that already. He isn’t a man, after all.

He’s a curse.

Two fingers push into your tight hole with little resistance. His experience briefly crosses your mind, undoubtedly far more than your own. It makes you feel insecure when you think about it for too long, so you try not to. He chose you, after all. The way his fingers hook perfectly through your walls and target your pressure point makes your breath hitch and lodge in your throat before a boisterous moan tears through you.

You shiver violently as his teeth graze your earlobe, biting softly and tugging before he begins to lick and lave at your pulse point. The knowledge that he can easily tear out your jugular while your walls throb and squeeze around deft fingers isn’t lost on you. Though that worry soon dissipates as his mouth levels with your ear once more.

“This is more than you deserve, but you said you’re ready.” he hisses.

“What?” you ask, quietly, confused by the implication of his words.

All addling thoughts racing through the creases of your mind are lost as you feel a familiar yet nonsensical feeling between your legs. His rough kiss silences any thoughts you wish to speak, which only leaves you more perplexed.

His tongue tangles with yours, and yet you’re tremoring from the sensation of another tongue running up and down between your puffy folds. You want to pull away to ask, to look at what he’s doing to you. But his free hand holds your jaw in place and you know better than to think you’d ever be able to best his strength, even with all of your might.

The pads of thick fingers still hone in and target your g-spot as he curls and presses against it roughly. But a secondary tongue from the palm of his hand swirls around and across your clit like that’s its sole purpose. You want to scream, you want to moan into the abyss but you can’t free yourself of Sukuna’s bruising kiss.

They’re his noises, he’s earning them by reducing you to this. It’s only right that he get to devour them. You’re barely present as the lips on his hand suction around your firm clit. The alternating actions between licking and sucking have you writhing and kicking beneath his heavy form.

But you can’t move, not really. Not when he’s pinning you beneath his weight with a refusal to let you move even an inch away from what he’s inflicting upon you.

You try to scream as you finish, pussy gushing more than you ever have before. It’s only then that he pulls away, eager to see the way your pretty pussy squirts copiously for him. The hand on his mouth slurps and feeds on the fluid, the heavenly taste causes Sukuna to throw his head back in ecstasy as his hand carries on savouring and ingesting your purest flavour.

It’s only when your cunt has nothing left to give that he looks down at you. Your convulsing form and entirely white eyes make him snicker as he hides the secondary mouth on his hand and withdraws his fingers from your twitching hole. His hand smooths over your hair, and he kisses your cheek repeatedly until you respond.

“You’re alive, then.” he mutters.

“Sukuna…” you breathe, you want to caress his face. You want to rake your fingers through his hair and feel his skin against yours if this is truly the final time he’ll be with you like this. But you can’t, your body is spent and you can barely find the energy to move your lips. But you have to, you must. “I don’t want to… lose… you.”

You don’t miss how his eyes widen in surprise. Though he dispels it quickly, assuming he’s mistaking your lust for true feelings for him. He smirks instead, placing a chaste kiss against your weary lips.

“You will see me again.” he assures you. “It took so little effort to conjure up that mouth on my hand, and look how pathetic you are.”

Despite having a fair amount of notches on your bedpost, no one has ever compared to Sukuna. The way he fucks is an art. The way he can simultaneously make you feel a pleasure you’ve never felt before while also prioritising himself is a sexual experience you’ve never known, and you’re sure you never will again without him. And yet, all of the encounters you’ve had with him pale in comparison to the orgasm you’ve just had.

And that took little effort?

If you had the energy, you think you’d be able to cum again just from imagining what he’s capable of when he actually tries.

“I’ll make you ready for me one day. All of me.”

© 2024 rinhaler

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw degradation #tw monsterfucking #sub!reader

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-Minho

Part III of Mafia!Minho, bitches. Saddle up. A/N: I know this isn't SKZ!Pack, but it's been in the works for a looooong time and I wanted you to have it. <3

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Mafia!Minho, Lee Minho, Lee Know, Minho, Y/N, FemReader, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Minho x you, Minho x reader, Mafia AU, Part III, Skz imagines, Skz reactions, SKZ scenarios, Fluff, Angst

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Warnings: Mafia Shit-guns, death, illegal dealings, daddy issues and misogyny, allusions to sexual assault and rape, loss of viriginity, blood. Mentions of previous pregnancy loss, miscarriage, current pregnancy. Breeding Kink, kinda? You'll see. Minho's just REALLY in to pregnant reader. 😂

"He's dead."

His blunt, cold words ricochet around the inside of your head, like a round fired too hastily from a gun, sloppy and dangerous, wounding everything they touch.

There's no way. There's no fucking way.

You say as much.

"That can't be true-"

His face contorts in anger, and he leans down to pinch your chin in a vicious grip that makes you wince, yanking your head back to meet his gaze, hot and pinning.

"It is true. Would you like to see the pictures, girl? The reports from Lim? His blood splattered across the wall?"

You sink to the floor.

Not JinYoung. Not your brother. Fuck, it can't be-

He straightens, releasing his iron grip on you and straightening his suit, glaring down at you with little more than cold disdain in his dark, narrowed eyes.

"He's dead, and you're worthless." He growls out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and considering you with something akin to disgust twisting his features.

Hot tears fill your eyes, and your fists clench in your lap, twisting the fabric of your dress.

You bite your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, and will yourself not to let a tear fall for him to see.

He scoffs, reaching down once more to take your chin in pinching fingers, making you whimper.

His eyes darken at the sound, as if he's a predator that has sensed weakness in his prey.

"You're worthless to me until you're wed." He hisses out, teeth clenched, muscle in his cheek bulging. "Remember that. You are nothing without a man in this world, girl, nothing."

He releases you without another word or look in your direction, whirling on his heel and stalking down the hallway, slamming the door to his office, probably already on the phone yelling at some poor inferior for killing his son.

You let your chin drop to your chest, and squeeze your eyes shut as you take several harsh, shuddering breaths, clenching and unclenching your fists.

It was his fault JinYoung was dead. His fault you were now all alone.

There was nothing you could do about it, not realistically, but you hated him for it all the same.

********************************************************************************

"You're thinking too much again."

You jump slightly at the sound of Minho's voice, still husky with sleep, his fingers finding the warmth of your bare skin beneath the blankets.

You sigh, wanting to be irritated at his perception when it comes to you, but can't quite manage, not when his fingers are tickling your sides.

"How did you know?"

"Mm." Minho hums beneath his breath, pushing himself up behind where you lie propped on your elbow in the big bed, staring out the window at the slowly rising sun.

His fingers trace up the curling lines of the snake that wraps your spine.

"I know everything about you, princess." He replies in a murmur, fingers still slowly ticking their way up your spine. You hear a slight smile enter his voice. "Well, that, and your thoughts are so loud currently that I feel like you're speaking audibly."

You give another sigh, this one conceding, and feel Minho brush a light kiss across the family crest that marks your shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, princess. I promise you."

You feel panic well into your throat at the surety behind his words.

"It wasn't okay before." You blurt out without really considering, hand tracing down beneath the blankets without thought to rest on the small swell of your belly.

It's normal not to feel any movement yet, you know that, and yet-

Minho's soothing, firm voice sounds in your ear, his warm breath brushing across your cheek, grounding you.

"That was before. This is now."

The surety is still there beneath his words-strong and constant-and yet, the acidic taste of panic is still slowly filling your mouth, making it hard to breathe.

"Princess." Minho says in a low tone, taking not of the rapid rise and fall of your chest. "Look at me."

His hand snakes around the front of your throat, and he gently squeezes with his fingers, angling your head back until you're staring up at him, his gaze serious and dark.

You drink him in like you're parched and he's the only water source-the soft curve of his lips, the upper fuller than the lower, the tan sheen of his skin, the sharp angles of his face, the dark wave to his tousled hair, the black ink trailing across his upper chest and arms, teasing at his throat, the pink, fading scars littered across his otherwise flawless flesh.

Minho is the only thing in this moment that's keeping you sane, and you hold onto that thread with a desperate fervency that frightens even yourself.

The corner of his mouth curves slightly as he stares at you, one hand around your throat to keep you in place, the other slipping beneath the blankets to cover your own where it rests on your bare belly.

You glance down, and the sight of his inked fingers covering your own calm the hammering of your heart.

"It's going to be okay." Minho repeats softly, firmly. "Whatever happens, princess, we're going to be okay."

You stare up at him and force a shuddering breath from your lungs, your fingers intertwining with his own.

"Okay." You whisper back with finality, because whatever happens, with Minho here, you're going to be okay.

********************************************************************************

You pause, hand splayed on the cool, carved wood of the door, and glance behind you to where Minho stands, several feet back, lingering in the mouth of the darkened hallway.

"You're not coming in?" You question softly, hesitantly, sudden butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Minho arches a brow, leaning against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He queries back, voice low and neutral.

You hear the quiet chatter of men's voices from beyond the door, the clink of glasses, and a shudder of fear goes down your spine at the thought of facing them alone.

"I don't know-" You stutter out, staring at him, trying to get a read through your suddenly mounting panic. "I just thought I need-"

You.

You don't finish the sentence, the words dying in your throat, and Minho's expression shifts slightly, his eyes darkening, his lips pulling into a serious line.

"Princess." He steps toward you, reaching out, and his fingers creep beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

His features soften slightly, and he takes in a slow breath.

"I will always stand beside you, I will always be here whenever you want me, but let me make one thing very clear-you do not need me."

You stare up at him, words thick on your tongue, and the corner of his mouth quirks into the hint of an amused curve.

He lets a finger stroke along your chin, his voice dropping slightly even as his eyes grow fiery.

"You do not need me-or any other man-to make you powerful. You are powerful entirely on your own, and it is a beautiful sight to behold."

You take in a shuddering, sharp inhale, his fervent words settling into your bones, and let your fingers slide beneath the cuffs of the expensive suit he wears, tracing the ink you know is hidden there.

Minho smiles. "Who do you think runs the criminal world, darling? It's not the men. We're the face, yes, but behind every great man is an even greater woman."

He tilts your chin once more, and you let your head fall against the door behind you, staring up at him openly now.

He reaches out, and brushes a stray hair from your forehead with gentle fingers.

His skin is warm, and you lean into his touch, as he presses his lips to the flesh just below your ear, brushing a kiss there as he utters beneath his breath, for only you to hear, "Women mask lethality behind femininity, and it is their greatest weapon. You are not powerless, princess, no, far from it. You do not need anyone, because you are the queen."

He presses another kiss against your throat, right above your fluttering pulse, and pulls back.

You stare at him for another moment, and then straighten the gown you wear.

"You're right. I have the power here."

A smirk flickers across Minho's lips, his eyes heating with admiration as he watches you.

He jerks his chin toward the door and the voices beyond.

"Yeah, you fucking do. Remind them who's the queen. Give them hell, princess."

********************************************************************************

"Yeong-ah." Changbin whines, stamping his foot impatiently where he stands beside the island, a dramatic pout on his face. "You're taking too long!"

Yeong-Ja giggles at his antics, glancing up from pulling on her second shoe. "I'm almost done, Uncle Binnie!"

You hide your smile behind a sip of coffee, as Chan appears, tossing the car keys to Changbin-who catches them easily- before crouching down to finish helping Yeong-Ja with her shoe.

"Thanks, Uncle Channie!" Yeong-Ja beams, bouncing to her feet beside him, as Chan grins and straightens, patting her head.

"You're welcome, Yeong-ah." He straightens the bow in her hair, before he glances to Changbin, already standing in the door way, keys in his hand. "Now, let's get going huh? Your mom and dad have a very important appointment today, and we have puppies to see."

"Okay, Uncle Channie!" Your daughter's face lights up at Chan's words, as she slips her hand into his, her tiny fingers curling around his own, dark with black ink, reminiscent to Minho's.

It never ceases to amaze you how gentle and loving all these big mafia men are with your daughter.

"Oh, fuck me." Minho grumbles beneath his breath at Chan's statement, brow furrowed in a sour expression, as he leans against the counter beside you and takes a long gulp of his own coffee.

You hide another grin behind the rim of your cup.

Chan glances up at Minho's muttered curse, ever sharp, ever alert, and gives your husband a crooked grin, brow arched.

"What do you say, boss? What color of puppy do you want? Brown or Black?"

Minho levels the other man with a glare, as Yeong-Ja bounces excitedly beside him.

"I could not care less, Christopher."

Changbin grins broadly from the doorway, enjoying the little goading match from afar.

"Ah, c'mon. Don't you want a matching set?" He motions with a jerk of his head toward Suwon, currently sleeping under the large kitchen table. The black Doberman barely raises his head at the commotion.

Minho takes another drink from his coffee.

"The only matching set I want is you and Chan's heads on sticks."

"Sorry, boss!" Changbin calls, ignoring Minho's dark threat entirely, a grin slipping across his lips as he twirls the jangling keys around his finger, turning toward the door. "Can't hear you. Gotta go."

"Okay, on that note-" Chan clears his throat, coughing over a chuckle, as he herds your daughter toward the door. "-let's get going."

"Bye mommy, bye daddy!" Yeong-Ja calls over her shoulder with a little wave, before she disappears, dwarfed between the two large men.

Changbin throws one last amused, knowing look over his shoulder in Minho's direction, giving a cheeky little wave, before they all leave from sight.

"Fuck." Minho swears vehemently beneath his breath and promptly moves around the counter to dump the rest of his coffee down the sink.

********************************************************************************

"He's going to ask to see her again, you know."

Minho glances up from his phone to meet your gaze from across the backseat of the car, his expression darkening slightly at your words, and the open worry etched across your face.

He tucks his phone back into the pocket of his suit coat, and slides across the seat to sit beside you, hand coming down to rest on your own.

"And my answer will be the same as it always is." He replies back in a hushed, but dangerously serious, tone, his fingers squeezing your own. "When he comes to see her as his granddaughter, and not just as an heir to a massive criminal empire, then he can meet her."

You take in a shaky breath and glance out the window.

The roads are becoming familiar, you're close to your father's estate.

"Princess."

Minho's cool fingers tilt your chin back to him, making you meet his gaze. The corner of his lip curls into the hint of a smile.

"You do not reside on your knees for him any longer. He has no power left to lord over you."

You take in another breath, and will the butterflies to soothe in your belly.

You give Minho a small, shaky smile, and squeeze his hand. The metal of his rings are cold, grounding, against your palm.

"I know."

"If anything-" Minho glances past you as you pull into the long drive, your father's opulent mansion rising quickly in the distance.

He gives you a smirk and an arch of his brow as you turn into the gate.

"-now that you have myself and all my resources at your disposal, he should be absolutely terrified of you."

The car comes to a stop, and Minho slides out, straightening his jacket and offering you his hand.

You take in another steadying breath, holding onto his arm as you walk toward the entrance of your childhood home.

The door swings open as you approach, and your father appears, stepping onto the top step of the staircase, watching the two of you with a penetrating gaze.

You resist the urge to shudder under that look you know so well.

Minho pulls you up the stairs with him, his steps confident, and you try to borrow some of his courage, stiffening your back and shoulders as your father steps to meet you both, a fake, overly large smile sliding into place across his pale, thin lips.

Of course he would greet you personally, no butler was good enough for Lee Minho, not when you were trying to keep up appearances.

"Ah, there he is, my son-in-law, man of the hour." Your father extends a hand, and Minho shakes it, though you can see by the slight tic of the muscle in his jaw that he doesn't enjoy the contact.

To his credit, your husband does a hell of a good job putting on a front, his slight smile in your father's direction much more believable than the man's who raised you.

"Boss Park. A pleasure, as always."

Your father doesn't even glance in your direction, motioning for Minho to follow him into the cooled, dimly lit air of the front entrance hall.

You can hear a record playing from somewhere farther within the mansion, probably your father's office.

"Now." Your father waves away an approaching maid, and she scurries to grab an empty tray, headed for the kitchen. He turns, that same sickly smile on his face, and rubs his hands together gleefully. "Shall we get straight to business then?"

"You know I don't enjoy small talk." Minho inclines his head to your father, who takes that as a yes to his previous question.

"Of course." He motions for Minho to move down the hallway, his arm extended. "I'll have Maria bring us refreshments in the parlor. Shall we?"

Minho's hand moves to the small of your back, warm through the thin material of the dress you wear, coaxing you forward with him as he moves to step past your father.

You're thankful for the support, you worry the trembling of your legs will give you away.

"Ah, ah, ah." Your father holds out his arm, stopping your forward motion, and for the first time since you arrived, his eyes flit to you, the corners of his lips curling up into something akin to a disgusted sneer. "You know the rules of my household, daughter. Women are not allowed in business meetings. You can wait here. Catch up with that little maid and the old household cook you were so fond of growing up."

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry, and something triumphant flashes across your father's dark gaze.

He knows that the cook you were 'so fond of growing up' was executed-shot in the garden while you were made to watch-on his order.

Can't have your daughter getting too close to the help now, can you? Not when secrets could be spilled, reputations dirtied.

Minho is talking, his voice fuzzy through your panicked memories, and you blink, focusing in on what he's saying, staring your father down with a serious, almost deadly, expression.

"I'm sorry, Boss Park, but when your daughter married me, she became my wife, and where I go, my wife goes. Those are my household rules. You understand."

Your father's lips part as his gaze flicks to you once more, as if he's thinking about disagreeing with Minho, but the flash of threat in Minho's dark eyes must convince him otherwise, because he plasters a strained smile onto his face and laughs, throwing his hands out.

"Of course. My apologies. Right this way then."

Minho glances at you, giving you a small reassuring smile, before he squeezes your hand, and you fall into step behind your father.

********************************************************************************

"Try to relax, (Y/N)."

Your doctor gives you a kind smile, the ultrasound wand posed and ready above your bare belly, the screen tilted toward the bed.

You swallow hard and nod, trying to focus on relaxing the tense muscles of your entire body one by one.

Minho squeezes your fingers where he crouches beside the bed, keeping up the pressure until you glance at him, your bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you worry it incessantly.

He reaches out to free the raw skin from your hold.

"Breathe, baby." He admonishes quietly, inked fingers stroking your knuckles in a reassuring pattern.

"Ready?" Your doctor asks, glancing between the two of you, lowering the wand slowly as she waits for your go ahead.

You stare at the blank, dark screen behind her, and try not to vomit.

"I'm scared." You admit to Minho in a whisper, hand tightening around his own, your breath coming slightly erratically now.

Minho pushes himself to his feet without a word, releasing his hold on your hand, and you almost reach out to grab for him again, before you realize he's sliding behind you on the bed, tugging you back against the warmth of his chest, his arms going around your shoulders protectively as he tucks your head beneath his chin.

"What did I tell you before, princess?"

You swallow again, gaze darting to your waiting doctor, and the screen beyond her shoulder.

"That it's going to be okay."

"Mm. Good girl." Minho hums a sound of approval in his throat, and you feel his lips brush across your forehead. "And it's going to be."

You take in a shuddering breath, and then give a little, jerky nod.

Minho's fingers find your own once more, and you feel him lift his chin from your head, glancing at the doctor.

She must see what she needs to in his gaze, because with a nod of her own, she finally touches the ultrasound wand to your belly.

Your body tenses at the contact as she begins to move the wand around slowly, her gaze laser focused on the screen.

Minho reaches his hand around to the front of your throat, his fingers finding purchase beneath your chin, and you don't resist him as he tips your head back, guiding you to meet his gaze.

"Just look at me, baby. Deep breath."

You force your chest in and out-once, twice-and Minho gives a nod of approval, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more.

"Good girl."

There is quiet, you don't know how long it's been since the doctor started her exam, and you feel your stomach twist, bile burning your throat, the longer the oppressive silence drags on.

Fuck, shouldn't you have heard something by now?

What if-

"Ah, there we go." The doctor murmurs, almost to herself, and suddenly, the sound of a heartbeat-fast and fluttering, like a hummingbirds wings, echoing the frantic pace of your own-fills the room.

Minho grins down at you, and you see the relief flash across his eyes as the heartbeat continues, strong and steady. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Your body sags with relief, and you glance at the screen beyond the doctor's shoulder-no longer dark-a shimmering, spiking line flickering constantly across the monitor in perfect time with the rapid heartbeat.

"Baby sounds perfect." Your doctor continues, smiling up at the two of you, as she moves the wand around and the heartbeat heightens a little. "Right on track."

"Oh my god." You breathe out, putting a trembling hand up to your mouth, sudden hot tears filling your eyes. "Fuck."

Minho laughs a little, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his arms squeezing you protectively.

His next exhale comes out more than a little shaky.

"Fuck indeed, baby. Fuck indeed."

************************************************************************

There is blood.

Blood smearing the inside of your legs, blood pounding hard in your ears, blooding staining the disgusting cock of the man looming over you, leering.

You glance to the door where your father had disappeared, giving his men free reign over you, some sort of lesson, and you know, deep down, that there is blood on his hands too.

But unlike the crimson marking you and the man creeping in, it's not the visible kind.

There is blood.

Dripping down between your fingers, coating your palms in slick red, so thick and so ingrained that even the running water is not enough to wash it away, not completely.

You scrub frantically at your hands, but the crimson only seems to multiply, filling the cracks and seeping into the edges of your vision.

You are hyperventilating, your chest heaving, tears streaming down your cheeks, and without your bidding, your gaze slides back to the man on the floor.

Dead.

Lying in a quickly congealing pool of blood and slaughter, your bucket and rag left hastily beside his blown out head.

The rag is already wet and sopping with blood, even after only one quick stroke across the cement.

You lean over the sink and vomit.

There is blood.

You can feel it, pooling beneath your hips, but you're too scared to look beneath the covers, too sure of what you'll find, your heart already shattering in your chest.

You feel sick to your stomach, and the cramping is worsening.

Rolling to your side, you curl your body into the safety of the fetal position, and try to drown out the low murmur of the doctor's voice from the other side of the room.

Screwing your eyes shut, you keep it all inside, and scream with rage where no one will hear.

There is blood.

Flecked across the tawny skin of his cheekbones, spattering the front of his white dress shirt, his prized shoes, congealing and blending with the dark ink that flows across his knuckles until they are almost one.

He steps toward you, and you run to him without a second thought, terrified enough that the breath in your lungs refuses to leave, not until you've got your hands on him and made sure he's all right.

Your bodies collide, and Minho holds you up as a sob tears from between your lips.

You reach up and put your palms on either side of his face, the crimson splatters, sprinkled across his nose like morbid freckles, accentuating the gold flecks that flash in the dark recesses of his eyes.

Minho's lips twist into the hint of a smile.

"It's not mine, princess. Don't worry."

You feel your lungs collapse, your chest caving, and you throw your arms around him violently, never willing to let him leave your grasp again, at least for tonight.

************************************************************************

There is blood.

You step around the puddle on the floor with nothing more than a disinterested glance, your sneakers squeaking on the concrete.

Behind you, Felix makes a muffled sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"God, they really need to clean up down here."

You glance over your shoulder at him, as he steps around the bloody puddle on the floor with an open look of horror on his face, a grin breaking free from your lips.

You wait for him to catch up to you, and link your arm in his as you continue down the long hallway.

"C'mon, Lixie. I think it's charming."

He gives you an arch of his brow, and you laugh a little.

The interoggation rooms built beneath the mansion serve a purprose-regardless of how dark-and honestly, you're grateful Minho had thought of them.

It's a way to keep the men you hold dear close enough that you know they're not in danger while they do their jobs.

Plus, hearing the screams when you come down here can be therapeutic in a way.

"Besides-" You reach the end of the hall and stop in front of the door there, glancing over at the man beside you as you reach for the knob. "I guarantee, when they come down here, cleaning is the last thing on Changbin and Chan's minds."

Felix rolls his eyes. "Savages."

You grin once more, and roll the door knob in your hand, pushing the door inward easily.

"It's why we love them."

You step into the room, Felix close on your heels, and as the door shuts behind you, your eyes flicker around the small chamber, taking everything in.

Chan is standing against the far wall beside Changbin, muttering something to him rapidly in a low voice.

There's a wall of instruments on the north side, anything from clamps to syringes, all used to get enemies talking.

And in the center of the room, a hunched form of a struggling man, bound to a chair, face covered with a sack.

You can just make out the muffled swears coming from beneath the rough fabric.

You take a step into the light that beams down on the man, encircling him in the gloom, and Chan and Changbin push up from the wall as one, their chatter ceasing immediately.

Changbin grins at you dangerously, as Chan rolls his head from side to side, waiting for your instructions.

Felix, silent as a ghost, leans against the door behind you, watching.

You tilt your head toward the man.

"Show me his face."

"Gladly." Changbin's teeth gleam sharply, as he leans forward and rips the cover roughly off the man's head.

The man looks around, disoriented, his long, gray hair wild, eyes wide and white with fear, the gag held between his teeth stained with spittle.

You feel a spark of fear light in your stomach at the sight of his face-older now, lined, but still recognizable-but force it back down with a long breath, stepping closer calmly, until the man's frantically roving eyes land on you.

"Take off his gag."

Chan steps up silently now, untying the gag at the back of the man's head, and as soon as it's loose enough, the man spits it out, licking his dry, chapped lips, as he glances between you and the men surrounding him with fury in his eyes.

"What the fuck is this? Who do you think you are? I could have you thrown to the bottom of a lake so no one would find your bodies, you know-"

You tsk your tongue in disapproval, and the man halts his tirade, his eyes narrowing, his weaselly features sharp.

"Empty threats." You sigh, stepping toward him, cocking your head as you study him.

He's shrunk after all these years, his skin almost paper thin, his hair greasy.

The eyes are the same though.

Hungry, predatory, evil.

His lips lift into the start of a snarl, revealing yellowing teeth.

"I don't know who you think you are, you bitch, but I assure you-"

Changbin's hand tangles into the man's stringy hair, yanking his head back roughly, shutting him up.

"Shut the fuck up, old man. Watch your tongue." He growls, glaring down at the man, his eyes blurring with tears as Changbin tugs once more on his hair painfully hard. "Or else I'll make sure that what she does to you will feel like mercy when I'm done with you."

He shoves the man's head forward, and he sputters, trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving, spittle flying from his lips.

Chan steps around the chair and holds out a knife toward you, his brow arched.

You take it without hesitation, and play with the razor sharp tip for a moment, ticking it off your fingertips as you study the man, lost in thought.

He glares up at you, his eyes full of hatred.

You almost laugh.

Oh trust me, not as much hatred as I hold toward you, Wu Chen.

You sigh, a long suffering sound, and address the man sitting, still now, before you.

"Do you recognize me, Mr. Wu?"

His dark eyes flash with something full of anger, but no recognition crosses his murderous gaze.

"Why should I?"

You cluck your tongue in annoyance, glancing up from the gleaming knife held in your hands.

"You took something from me once."

A brief flash of confusion swirls with the fury, and then his jaw clenches, his features going hard.

He gives a humorless laugh.

"I've taken things from a lot of people." His eyes glint with the predator, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lets his gaze fall down the length of your body. "Quite a few of them delicious, mouthy little cunts such as yourself."

He's trying to unnerve you.

It's not working.

You've given him enough fear for one lifetime already.

No more.

You step forward, and lean over him, your hand going on the back of the chair, the knife held alert between the two of you, dangerously close to his jugular.

His eyes flick down to the steel, and you don't miss the way his throat bobs with a swallow.

"You took something. Long ago. Took something from someone who couldn't fight back. Something that was never yours to begin with. Do you remember what that was, Mr. Wu?"

Your voice is quiet, steady, but venomous and deadly as a viper waiting to strike.

His eyes meet yours, and when it's clear he's not going to respond, you sigh, sliding the knife up the column of his throat slowly, watching as the crimson appears in the shallow cut you leave behind.

He flinches, but remains quiet.

"A girl." You continue, voice dropping to nothing more than a deadly murmur.

Something like recognition flashes in the dark of his eyes, and suddenly, the man sitting bound before you looks a hell of a lot more nervous than he did before.

You let a small smirk flick the corner of your lips, as you lean back, taking the knife away from his throat.

"She wasn't strong enough to fight you back then. But she is now."

You lift your chin at Chan, and he steps around in front of your prisoner, leaning over to rip open the closure of his suit pants.

"What, what are you doing?" He splutters, immediately writhing in the chair once more, as Chan proceeds to easily tear his pants open, baring thin, scarred legs to the cold air of the room.

Changbin steps up as Chan finishes and goes around the chair, back to his side, holding the man still with firm hands on his shoulders as you approach once more.

You lean over, and easily shred the boxers he wears with one quick flick of your wrist that holds the knife.

The man before you screams and struggles, as his shrunken, shriveled cock springs free for all to see.

"Mm." You hum in your throat thoughtfully, staring at the man and his member with consideration. "It's a lot smaller than I remembered."

Changbin leans over the man's shoulder to get a look and grins, his eyes glinting.

You glance back to your prisoner, and a smirk curves your lips as he cries out in terror, fighting against his bonds and the hold of Changbin's hands.

You step closer and hold up the knife for him to see, the metal glinting in the overhead light.

"No, no, please-" He flails, begging pathetically, but you ignore him, angling the knife expertly as you close in.

The smirk doesn't leave your lips, as you arch a brow and stare down at the writhing, pathetic excuse of a man before you.

Your voice is steady when you speak, rising above the sound of his pleas.

"You took something precious from me, Mr. Wu. Now it's time for me to take something from you."

************************************************************************

You hear Minho before you see him.

The door to the bedroom sounds, and the room is immediately filled with curses and general angry lamentations as he struggles to get through the crack he's made in the door without letting the dogs on the other side in with him.

You can hear him yelling all the way from the ensuite bathroom.

"Get back, you hairy fuckers!-Jesus-Suwon, don't do that, you damned beast!-fuck-and you! Fucking bane of my existence!-ow-Give me back my fucking shoe and go find a ball, you damned fucking demon hound!"

The door finally slams, and you hear rapid paws head down the hall on the other side, Suwon and the new puppy, probably in search of Yeong-Ja.

Minho appears then in the doorway of the bathroom, looking frazzled, a lone dress shoe held in his hand, his lips smashed into a thin line of rage.

You try to hide your smile, glancing at him over your shoulder, as you continue to ready to get in the already running shower.

"Have a bit of a struggle, Boss Lee?" You query innocently, eyes wide as you regard him, like you haven't just heard everything that occurred.

He swears under his breath and tosses the chewed shoe into the trash, reaching up to swipe a hand through his disheveled hair with an agitated rake of his fingers.

"Fucking dogs. That fucking puppy is even worse than Suwon was."

You grin now, turning toward him, and his eyes trail down your naked body, catching on the prevalent bump that now takes up your midsection.

"Baby, Bohoja will learn, just like Suwon did. You won't be stuck with ruined shoes forever."

"Mmm." Minho hums something like distracted agreement under his breath, his eyes still on you, as if he's lost his train of thought and is no longer thinking about the hellhounds that roam the halls. "He had better. Or I'll have Chan's head on a stick." He takes a step toward you. "But that's not what I came to talk about."

You arch a brow, playing innocent for awhile longer.

"Oh? What did you come to talk about then, husband?"

His eyes darken predatorially at the lilting tease to your voice, a challenge, and he growls, closing the space between you, his hand going up to grip your chin.

Your bare chest brushes his through the material of the dress shirt he wears, and you can already feel his arousal, long and rock hard against your leg.

It makes you want to shiver, even though the steamy bathroom is more than a little warm.

His eyes trace up your body once more, and then flick to your face, catching on your cheekbone, before he reaches up with his free hand to brush something on your skin.

You lean into his touch, brushing your lips over the inked skin of his knuckles.

"You have blood on your face, princess."

You arch a brow. "Does that turn you on?"

Minho's eyes flash dark, dangerous, and his lip curls up to reveal a flash of his teeth, his voice a husky growl in the back of his throat.

"Incredibly."

You smirk, and he stares at you for another moment, hunger clear in his eyes, and you think maybe he'll give in and take you right here, against the bathroom counter, but instead, he sighs, and lets his free hand tangle into your hair, tilting your head back so your gaze meets his.

"You found him then."

It's a statement, not a question.

You nod. "Yes."

Minho's brow arches, and the corner of his mouth lifts into the start of a smirk.

"And?"

You sigh, pulling from his grasp as you step away, turning back when you reach the waiting shower.

Minho hasn't moved, watching your every move.

Eyes locked on his, you step backward into the flowing water, and it immediately coats your skin in hot rivulets, making everything slick.

You arch a brow, watching the predatory look come back into Minho's eyes as the water wets your skin, pooling in streams down between your breasts, your thighs.

You cock your head, as if considering, and then say without preamble, "And I cut off his pathetic excuse for a dick. I gave it to cook. She's going to make a fancy pate out of it and feed it to the dogs."

Minho breathes out, you see it in the way his chest rises and falls and then he's striding to the open air shower, ripping his tie off as he comes, stepping into the stream of water in the rest of his clothing without a second thought.

He takes your chin in a bruising grip with one hand, and snakes his other hand down between your thighs.

Your breath hitches as he touches the wetness there, just for him.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful, princess." He grits out, tilting your head back so that he can look into your eyes while he finger fucks you.

"So you tell me." You try to give him a teasing smile, but the expression is lost as your mouth parts and a gasp escapes your lips when he curls his fingers.

"No, I mean-" He backs you against the wall with his body, the water drenching the shirt he wears, you can see his tan skin and the ink across his chest through the wet material, and lets his gaze travel appreciatively down your length once more. "-you're always fucking beautiful, but god-"

He groans gutturally , leaning into you, mouth open against your own, as he hits a spot that has you gripping onto him, keening audibly.

"-there's something so incredibly fucking sexy about you when you're pregnant."

His words send a thrill of heat straight to your core.

"Take this off." You practically beg, pawing uselessly at his shirt, and he pulls his hand away from you to undo the buttons, tugging it open impatiently, as you reach down to free him of his pants.

You're eager for him to take you, to claim you, but instead of immediately finding purchase inside you, Minho drops to his knees in front of you, and runs his hands reverently over your swollen belly, glancing up at you through the streams of water.

His hair is dark, dripping, and you bury your fingers into it.

"I put this here. You, carrying my kid, princess-" He takes in a deep breath, his fingers still caressing your skin. "Fuck, now everyone knows who you belong to. Everyone knows you're mine."

You stare down at him, this man on his knees for you, this man who has given you everything-and you smile.

"I don't think there was ever any doubt about who I belonged to, Lee Minho. It's always been you."

Minho surges to his feet and covers your mouth with his own, your tongues tangling instantly, your body melting into his, his fingers finding you once again right where he left off, making you jolt against him and gasp in pleasure.

"What do you want?" He asks, voice husky, gravely, against your lips.

"You." You breathe back, hand already trailing down between your two bodies to find him. Your fingers close around him, and Minho shudders. "All of you. Always."

"You have all of me, princess. Always." He repeats in a hoarse voice, before he sheathes himself fully inside of you without warning, making you both cry out.

And you know he means it.

************************************************************************

"Ow." You huff beneath your breath, shifting on the chaise, as Yeong-Ja looks up from playing with the puppy on the floor in front of the fire.

"What's wrong, mommy?"

You give her a smile that's more like a grimace as the baby kicks you strongly again, foot sinking up under your ribs.

"Baby brother is just kicking me, that's all, baby. I'm okay."

Yeong-Ja immediately turns back to Bohoja, teasing him with a rope toy.

"'Baby brother'?" Minho queries, leaving his desk and sliding in beside you on the sofa, his arm going around you as he pulls you close.

You smile, glancing up at him. "Just a feeling."

Another kick, another curse under your breath.

"Fuck. Minho. Tell your son to behave please."

Minho chuckles, burying his nose in your hair and breathing you in, his hand sliding down to rest on the apex of your stomach.

"Sorry, princess. You know how we Lee men are."

The baby kicks again against his palm, and Minho curves his fingers along the curvature of your belly, as if holding the unborn baby close from the outside.

You sigh, and snuggle back into him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Well-" You acquiesce, stifling a yawn as you lean your head on his shoulder, and watch Yeong-Ja playing happily with the puppy, Suwon dozing near by. "-I'd better get used to it then, because I wouldn't have them any other way."

You feel the warmth of Minho's breath as he buries his face once more in your hair, holding you close.

"I love you, princess. And the murderous little creature currently growing in your womb."

You grin and kiss his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt.

"I love you too, Boss Lee."

Love.

There is so much love.

#skz #stray kids #stay #skz x you #skz x reader #femreader #minho #lee minho #mafia!minho #minho x you #minho x reader #y/n #skz fluff #skz smut #skz angst #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz drabble #lee know #lino #mafia au #skz au

[savannahsdeath]

haiiiiii, this is my first time requesting 😖😖😖😖😖 what ab boxer ellie and boxer reader fucking ts out of each other 😖😖😖😖😖

BOXER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X BOXER!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! just.. smut

writers note: im so proud you trusted me with your first request??!!?!! omg also idk im no boxer so.. but i tried !! also this is some short drabble or whatever buut im posting it anyway because.. yes

you always admired ellie at the gym, what usually made your workout session worthless. you were a boxer, just like her. you knew every punch or kick you saw her do, it wasn't anything new nor special. yet, the way she did them brought your attention. her movements were fluid, quick, and precise. there was no hesitation or wasted energy. everything was a perfectly timed, deliberate attack. the way she moved was like liquid, weaving through the air with ease. she was art in motion, each strike a beautifully crafted, deadly dance.

and then, she saw you looking at her. her determinated expression got replaced by the playful smirk that made you lose your mind.

"hey!" she chuckled. "anything interesting?"

her green shirt was clinging to her body, exposing every curve and muscle. it was difficult not to keep staring at her.

you tried to compose yourself, to play it cool and not let her get to you. "just watching you, and thinking about all the ways i could beat you." you gave her a cheeky grin, and raised your eyebrow to let her know you're not one to be messed with.

she laughed and approached you. "care to show me on a practice session later?" she asked playfully.

"of course!" you smiled back at her, your heart racing as her body draws nearer to yours with each step. still, you played along, pretending to be confident and totally-not-impressed. "who knows, maybe i can show you a thing or two that you haven't seen before." you added with a smirk on your own face.

as she got close, you could feel the heat from her body and see how her shirt clings to her curves like second skin. your face flushed with blood and you had to look away, unable to keep a steady gaze as she drew your eyes back to her with that inviting smirk.

that's how you ended up between her legs, showing her 'a thing or two she haven't seen before'. your tongue dipped inside her cunt, collecting everything in your mouth. then, you moved to lick her folds sleek, carefully moving up and down, stopping at her clit to suck on it. she was trying her best to stay quiet and keep her 'unbothered' facade, but you thought it's useless after she failed once. oh, how oblivious she was to the fact that you could feel how her hips moved closer to your face.

"are we- fuck, do we practice the same boxing?" she mumbled, trying to sit up and look at you but ending up squirming even more.

the air, disturbed by the vibration of your laugh, hit her inner thighs. she squeezed them around your head, but your hands quickly parted them back to their previous position.

"i don't know about you, but that's what i practiced." you replaced your tongue with your fingers, rubbing her clit while you pulled away and sat up, letting her see you. "is that something... new for you?"

she whined and moaned out a; 'fuck you', before regaining her composure and adding a more confident; "i can do just as much."

not long after that, your places swapped. you admired how full of energy she was, even though she struggled to speak not long ago.

"what happened to the 'no fucking before an important fight'?" you taunted - your breathless state wasn't enough to stop you from teasing her.

after that, she pushed two of her fingers into your puffy cunt. you gasped as your ability to speak went missing, your cheeks shining with not even bright red as an uncontrollable groan in form of her name escaped your mouth.

"i was just about to ask you 'what happened to you stuttering and blushing everytime you talk to me?'" she made a dramatic pause, letting her fingers pump in and out of you, closely watching your reaction to every move so she would figure out where your sensitive spot was. it took her about two times, or more but really fast ones, your sense of time got ruined and you weren't sure. "but there you are."

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #ellie the last of us #wlw smut #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #boxer!ellie #boxer!ellie williams x reader #boxer!ellie williams #boxer!ellie x reader #boxer!ellie x boxer!reader #boxer!ellie williams x boxer!reader #boxer!reader

[lexsssu]

Amour (Claude de Alger Obelia)

TAGS: Claude/F!reader, alternate universe, childhood friends, breeding, obsession, yandere, smut, drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

It’s almost hilarious how at a certain point in his life he thought himself to be unworthy of love. That he didn’t need such a frivolous and fleeting emotion that served no purpose within the messy and undeniably dangerous world of royalty, nobility, and politics.

At least until you came into his life.

A disgraced princess of a fallen kingdom that could barely be seen on a map and the worthless spare prince made for quite a pair. 

You came to him when he was a young boy two years your senior, and you were a scared little girl sentenced to a life of servitude to your conquerors. Perhaps it had been fate taking pity on his miserable life when you were assigned to serve him.

For once in his life Claude felt warmth and softness from someone else other than his mother. Someone who had no obligation to look at him with kind eyes and treat him with such sincerity that sometimes he felt as if he was the one taking advantage of your kindness.

And even as he was engaged to that harlot Penelope Judith who clearly only had eyes for his older brother and the throne, he paid no mind to their schemes. 

When he did catch the two in bed together, Anastacius’ attempt to humiliate him further didn’t faze Claude one bit. Rather, it became the final nail in the coffin of grievances that he’d long harbored.

Claude de Alger Obelia ascends the throne on a bright and sunny day and simultaneously marries his childhood sweetheart, a princess of a conquered nation. 

The whereabouts of the former crown prince and his previous fiance had never been found. Rumors say that the two eloped together to live a humble life away from the burdens of royalty and politics.

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

“That’s it…Take everything I’m giving you…”

Claude grunted as he watched your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as he repeatedly forced his cock inside of you, trying to mold your cunt into remembering his shape.

His own eyes practically glowed in the dark as he committed to memory the sight of you during what was currently the best day of your lives. 

Years of scheming had finally paid off, and now there was nothing left to do but ensure that once morning light came, your child would already be growing inside your belly.  

#lexsssu writes #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x female reader #who made me a princess #claude de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia x reader #claude de alger obelia x you #claude de alger obelia x y/n

[yayakoishii]

Hello, I’ve loved seeing all of your One Piece content recently! Could I request a Sanji and a fellow straw hat reader who recently got married? I saw something recently about how once Sanji gets married, there would come a moment where someone would call ‘Vinsmoke’ and both would turn their heads and it would just cause Sanji to get emotional because he finally shares a last name with someone who doesn’t see him as worthless. Someone who instead looks at him like he single-handedly placed every star in the sky. If you don’t end up writing this that’s alright, I at least wanted to share this little scenario.

Vinsmoke | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Word Count: 600

Genre: Fluff, minor angst?

A/n: *laughs in still haven't read past Ch. 526* Hey there requester <3 Firstly, I'm happy to hear you enjoy my writing! Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request. You actually requested it when they were closed but I found it too cute and wanted to write it– even though I haven't reached that part in the manga yet. But, I wrote based on the things I learnt from fanfics (and whatever I got spoiled about, lol) so this might be inaccurate? I would have loved to expand but I need to know the entire backstory properly before I could do that TT Still, I had a fun time writing this cute drabble! Hope you enjoy it ♡

also available on ao3!

Sanji woke up to the most beautiful sight in his entire life– you lying next to him, curled up against his chest from where he could see your hair spilling over the pillow and your relaxed face. This was the sight he was going to wake up every day to, from now on, and the thought of it made him feel like the most blessed man on Earth.

You shifted a little, burrowing closer into him, as if you two were already sticking to each other. He could feel your skin on his own, reminders of the night before but all he could feel at the moment was overwhelming love. He couldn't hold back when he saw your hand with a ring come up to lie above his heart. The choked off sound he let out woke you up, and you looked up at him with sleepy puffy eyes.

"Sanji…?" You mumbled, humming in contentment when he wrapped you up in his arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my love," he said quietly, gathering you into his arms, his own wedding band grazing your back as he did so. You shivered at the sudden cold touch but looked at him with dopey eyes full of so much love that he felt blinded. "Just thinking of how lucky I am."

The two of you eventually rolled out of the hotel bed and got ready to leave for your trip. You were on your honeymoon, a week long trip to a famous vacation island that had a lot of fun activities. Sanji had gotten ready first and gone down to the lobby to discuss something with the staff. You hurried up and joined him there after you had made sure that all the marks he left on you were hidden well under your clothes. You were not embarrassed by them – but you were also a private person who preferred to keep certain things to yourself. The love Sanji made to you was something no one else has to see or know. It was something just for you to experience.

You checked out at the reception since you had the room key and were about to make your way to Sanji when the hotel staff behind you suddenly called out, "Vinsmoke-san?"

"Yes?" You turned around automatically, feeling a little giddy. You had been preparing for this ever since Sanji proposed to you. To be called by his name, to be called his…

You didn't notice Sanji's reaction because of your own thoughts. The blonde had turned to answer the call only to be left dumbfounded when he realised the staff had called for you. You, who were now Vinsmoke (Y/n), had replied back with so much ease, like you had been answering to it your whole life.

And it was like someone had pulled his heart out of his chest and clenched it– it was both painful and pleasing to him that you were a Vinsmoke now. The first one to always be by his side, the first one to protect him even though he was clearly no longer the weak boy he once was. The first one to look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, the first one to love and accept him for who he was– you were now his first, real family. The family he had chosen and started. The family who loved him.

"Sanji?" Your concerned voice jolted him out of his thoughts and he blinked, feeling his eyes wet suddenly. His face was cradled gently in your soft hands as you looked up at him, silently asking him why he was about to cry. "What got you like this?"

Sanji swallowed the heavy lump he could feel in his throat, like his emotions had turned into a ball and were trying to come up his throat. He blinked away the last vestiges of his tears, instead wrapping you up in his arms again.

"You being mine now," he whispered, knocking his forehead gently against yours. His clear blue eyes looked straight into yours as he added, "In heart, mind, name and life."

°•❀•°

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagines #one piece drabble #quick drabble #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #op sanji #sanji #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #fic request #fluff #married sanji and reader is such a cute duo omg #i loved writing this #even tho i'm writing based off the spoilers i know lmao

[klttn]

Kill valentino. I don’t care how. Just do it. You know we both want this fantasy to come true

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓃

pairing : alastor x f!reader, slight huskerdust if you squint

content!! : mention of abuse, violence, death, no smut

summary : valentino takes it too far both with angel and with you, oh no, now he’s dead. a little drabble for the valentino haters out there.

“ugh i hate him soo fuckin’ much,” angel whines into the pink silk of your bed.

it was three in the morning and angel had only just sauntered in from work, valentino had run him ragged, he was covered head to toe in bruises, bites, rope marks, whips n cuts. you dread to think about all the sick things he’d done to your best friend today.

“i know, angie, im sorry, he’s a prick… even for someone in hell.” you muttered, resting yourself next to him.

“twenty guys, y/n, and there’s nothin i could even do about it!” a small tear slid down angels face as he said it. your heart shattered.

looking up at angel, he saw your eyes start to water, you were trying so hard not to cry but you couldn’t help it. seeing him like this, the hatred you had for val and everything he puts angel through was just too strong. you could just kill him.

“you don’t deserve this,” you say, anger seeping through your voice just enough for him to notice.

angel’s actions wavered, the seriousness becoming too much.

he wiped the salty drop out from under his eye, smile now forming from ear to ear as he adjusted his chest fur, shaking his non existent boobs. “i’m goin’ to the bar," he struts, "the nights only young, if i try my best, i’ll have forgotten about val in the next hour!” he winks at you, trying to put a smile on your face.

please don’t tell me i just made him leave.

before he goes, he leans down and whispers to you, leaving a little kiss on your forehead as he does, “i’ll be okay, yknow.”

“i know,” you halfheartedly smile.

as he walks out your hotel room door, your smile falters. at least you know he’ll be safe with husk. you can rest knowing that. he’ll forget all about val the minute he lays his eyes on the black cat.

it’s just, something needs to be done about that vile moth.

♡ ⋆ ˚ ❀ ｡⋆୨୧ ‘

not much time had past since angel was in your room, just enough for you to be huddled up in the back of a taxi, seething and headed straight to valentino’s exact whereabouts.

you had no idea what you were going to do once you got there, your nails were practically drawing blood with how hard you were digging them into your thighs. fuck valentino.

both angel and alastor would be livid if they knew what you were doing but you know your boyfriend wouldn't have helped. too sloppy and reckless. how dare you let your emotions control you?

you pull up at the place, 'consent' written above the disheveled building, how unfitting for valentino. you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

taking a deep breath, you walk into the bar, a wave of pink tinted smoke radiating lust and floating hearts in the air being the first thing that hits you. composing yourself, you sigh, storming straight for the source.

" VALENTINO!" you screech amongst the crowds of bodies, "we need to fucking talk."

almost immediately, a pathway clears through the smoke and array of sinners, a smug looking pimp following through "now who the fuck do you think you-" he stops. "oh," now he’s smirking, "you’re alastor's little bitch, and a friend of that worthless whore i own."

"his name is angel dust." you spat.

"excuse me?" annoyance evident in his voice.

"I said his name is angel dust, are you deaf as well as blind?"

val clicks his tongue, “i’ll let the sass slide just this once out of courtesy for angel,” he trails, "you know,” he pauses, taking you in, “you're quite a pretty little thing, aren't you?" you scoff, of course the snarky bastard is hitting on you. "such a shame to be wasted with that prude radio demon," you shot him a warning glare. this is not what you came here for.

val leaned closer to your ear and brought his voice to a whisper, testing your patience, "if you were with me, at least id fucking touch you-"

SLAP. you hit him, the harsh noise echoing causing everyone to fall silent, their eyes following the sound to you.

“why you little bi-“

val had barely any time to react or even form a thought other than rage and a balled fist before a gush of wind and red essence placed itself in front of you. protecting you.

alastor. shit.

gradually spawning in, his deer horns protruding, long limbs and black whips growing, eyes glazed over with hatred and that eery sharp toothed smile that always adorned his face.

“i hope you weren’t about to lay your filthy hands on her,” the demonic sound of alastors voice stilling you.

he was scary like this, very few times had you seen his demon form, but never as raw and uncontrolled as this. alastor hated losing his composure, especially in front of you.

"did I make bambi mad?" valentino’s condescending voice broke you from your trance.

a quick look from alastor, his eyes softening by a touch, just for you, had you back to being grounded, he was still your al.

“my doe, would you be a doll and wait outside for me? we’ll discuss your silly little adventure after my arthropod entrée.” he begun, voice heavily static and his tongue darting across his lips. “my little lady should not have to see what I'm about to do to you," he finished, redirecting his attention toward the purple demon.

the last thing you saw before you left was the puff of valentino’s wings as he prepared to fight alastor. “this is for my sweet girl and angel dust.”

oh, val is definitely dead.

A/N : what do we think!!! please share your thoughts!! this is basically free therapy for me after what ep 4 made me feel

#mine ♡ #⁺˳✧༚ dolly’s drabbles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor altruist #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino

[toxicanonymity]

No good 🥀 (the raid drabble)

750 words, dark!Javi x f!reader | the raid I8+, angst (javi is the worst), smut, captivity. Ty Aly!! 🖤🫶 @iamasaddie

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Javi gets home late, unbuttoning his shirt on his way in. He takes it off and throws it in the laundry before approaching. When he uncuffs you, there's a waft of unfamiliar perfume that makes your heart drop. It's an awful feeling that he'll fuck anyone but you. There are moments you feel worthless and unworthy. Why did he take you if he was going to be like this? He says one day he’ll do it, but if he really wanted to, it's hard to understand all his restraint. It's a foreign concept to you. You try not to cry, but can't help it. Javi showers, and when the water turns off, you try to dry your eyes. He puts on sleep shorts and joins you in bed, spooning you. He cups your breast and his voice is low with lust. “I thought about you. . .mi putita” (my little slut). He nuzzles his nose against the nape of your neck, then adds, quieter, “favorita” (my favorite little slut).

You sniffle, and he turns on a dim bedside lamp. He pulls you onto your back. He props his head up in one hand and leans with his chest against you. He brushes a tear off your cheek and his brow furrows. His voice is soothing: “It's okay.” You're grateful he doesn't ask what's wrong. “I'm proud of you, sweetheart. You're doing great.” Your heart flutters.

He backs up and takes the covers off you. Then he gets between your legs and puts them over his shoulders. He gets close enough to feel his breath on your cunt, then he plants a kiss on your most sensitive place. You let out a soft moan. You're aching to have him.

He looks up at you, and the little cross on his gold chain swings forward, hitting your clit. You flinch at the contact of metal.

“Already?” He asks, then dips his head again. “So needy,” he murmurs to your cunt. He licks a wide stripe from your taint to the apex of your folds, then flicks his tongue. He stops, licks your clit slower, then seals his lips and sucks. He laps at your dripping seam again before returning his attention to your clit. You whine, “mmm” and your hips lift into his mouth. His mustache brushes your skin. He teases your entrance with his tongue, then it plunges into you.

He rubs your clit with his nose as he fucks you with his tongue. You twitch around him and he moans, “Mmm.” The vibration of his voice makes the tension swell deep in your belly. You whimper, and he moves his mouth back to your clit, replacing his thumb but leaving his right hand to rest on your mound and lower belly.

He lifts his face only to bring his left hand to your pussy and run two fingers through your folds. He watches you darkly and reaches for your breast as he nudges your wet hole then pushes in a finger, followed by a second. His mouth returns to kiss your pussy, with tongue, as his fingers move at an accelerating pace. His right palm lightly squeezes your breast

You're already teetering on the edge of bliss when his thick digits nudge that spot inside you. You whine and moan as you surrender to the climax. Your walls clench pitifully around nothing. He laps up your arousal, then rests his head on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you. When you finish, he lifts his head and smoothes his mustache. He crawls up the bed, and you turn onto your side.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and it feels pathetic.

He settles in behind you, and his dick is hard. You ache so badly for it, and you’re so hurt, you can't help but sniffle.

“It's okay,” he says, barely above a whisper.

You can't stop yourself from arguing. “I'm not your favorite. You would use your favorite.”

He’s silent for a few moments, then calmly asks, “are you asking me to use you?”

Your face heats up. You can't exactly say no, so you go for it. “Yeah.”

“Aww, pobrecita (poor little girl). . .have some self respect, baby.”

He pushes his hard dick against you, then lifts his head to press his lips against your temple for a moment before settling back in with a hand on your tit.

You mutter, “I dunno how you can go to sleep like that.” He starts to pull his hand away from your breast, but you stop him with your hand on his wrist.

“Some people have self control,” he answers. “You will too, someday.”

-------

Ty for reading!

the raid tag list @ashjohnson47

#javier peña narcos #javier peña imagine #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier peña smut #javi p #javier pena smut #cw degradation #cw dubcon #✏️ game #javi is a dick #toxicanonymity ☠️ #the raid ☠️

[livelaughwhump]

Heyyyyyy! I adore your worrk!!!!!! If it's not a bother, could you possibly make something where Elliot has to be intubated because he can't seem to keep any food down?? Post captivity? If that's too graphic or you're not taking requests that's totally understandable.

Masterlist

Thank you so much!! Of course! This is such an interesting idea and I was very excited to write it! Unfortunately, this probably won't be a canon drabble, because Elliot's eating habits don't actually get this bad, but it's still a fun idea!

I hope you enjoy!

Content: disordered eating, feeding tube, self-hatred, self-deprecation, vomiting, body image issues

If I missed any content warnings, please let me know!

-

It was 2 a.m.

Normally, the team's safe house would be quiet and asleep, but tonight, a fog of anxiety and dread hung over the house and every team member inside. The lights were on and there was not a sleeping soul inside.

The team was crowded around the bathroom, watching as their youngest member violently vomited up everything in his stomach, just as he'd done for the past three nights.

Broderick was crouched behind Elliot, softly rubbing his back and whispering comforting and reassuring words into his ear. "It's okay, sweet. Just let it out, you're okay."

The rest of the team merely watched from the doorway. The looks on their faces were so terribly sad and exhausted. They hated seeing Elliot like this.

Meanwhile, Elliot's bright red face was covered in tears. Snot was running from his nose and a mix of drool and stomach bile dripped from his lips. He felt absolutely miserable and pathetic. A loud, heavy sob erupted from his chest once he'd finished. His nose and throat were burning, his mouth tasted of stomach bile, and his face was smeared with snot and tears. He felt like the physical depiction of the word 'worthless', and all the while, his friends were watching him. He'd never felt so ashamed.

"Is that all, sweet?" Broderick asked, once Elliot had finished. Elliot gave a slight nod, his face still turned toward the toilet bowl. He couldn't bear for his friends to see his face.

"How are you feeling, love?" Yvonne asked. Her voice was soft and soothing, like always, but Elliot couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back at the sound of it.

Elliot sniffled, his nose burning with the action. "I'm-I'm sorry," he mumbled, almost incoherently. "I-I thought I could do it this time. I-I thought I could..." Elliot couldn't finish his thought before he dissolved into a mess of pitiful sobs. He buried his face in his hands as Broderick continued to rub his back.

Lyra's heart broke as they watched the display. It had been almost a week since they'd started introducing real food back into Elliot's diet, but every time without fail, he threw it all back up again within a matter of hours. He was losing more weight and his skin was growing paler by the day. Lyra didn't know what to do, but they hoped Broderick would.

"Why don't we get you back to bed, love?" Yvonne offered.

Elliot choked on his sobs. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry, darling. You didn't do anything wrong," Yvonne said as she helped Elliot to his feet. He wobbled a bit, and Yvonne had to help him stand. It had been getting harder and harder for him to remain standing for long periods of time. He was growing too weak, and that thought terrified Lyra. Elliot couldn't afford to keep losing weight. Pretty soon, he wouldn't have anything left to lose.

As Yvonne led Elliot back to his room, the rest of the team stared at Broderick, waiting for him to answer the unasked question hanging above their heads.

Broderick sighed and shrugged. "This isn't good, you guys."

Landon scoffed. "Yeah, I think we got that."

Broderick threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "Then, what do you want me to say, Landon?" The medic exclaimed. Yvonne approached from the direction of Elliot's room, silently entering the circle, but no one seemed to notice her. "I wish I could tell you that everything's okay, but it's not! This is the fourth night in a row that he's woken up vomiting, and nothing that I've tried has worked! I thought this was just a mild case of refeeding syndrome, but it's so much worse than I thought and I don't know what to do! Is that what you wanna hear, Landon?" There were tears in Broderick's eyes now, and one by one, they began to fall.

Lyra's lower lip was wobbling. "There's nothing else we can do?" She asked, her voice trembling almost as much as her lip. All eyes turned to her. Broderick lowered his head. Lyra suppressed the sobs building in her chest. "Please, Broderick. I can't lose him again. There has to be something else we can do. Please!"

Broderick shook his head. "Lyra, I'm-"

"No!" Lyra interrupted. "There has to be something else! I don't care what it is! I'm not just going to give up on him, like everyone else in his life has!" Lyra took a deep breath to steady themself. They were exhausted and frustrated and so, so scared. "I'm not just going to let him die, Broderick. That's not an option."

Broderick sighed again, his tense shoulders heaving. "Lyra, I-" he broke off, a thoughtful look on his face. After a few seconds of tense anticipation, Broderick said, "There may be one last thing we can do."

Lyra's eyes widened, but before she had the chance to ask, Yvonne beat her to it, "What is it?"

Broderick bit his lip and scrunched his nose. "The only thing I can think of is implementing a feeding tube."

Landon, Karine, and Lyra all exchanged wordless looks. "A feeding tube?" Lyra repeated. Broderick nodded. "So, what exactly does that entail?"

Broderick folded both arms over his chest. "I would insert a nasogastric tube into his nose, through his oesophagus, and into his stomach."

"But it wouldn't make him throw up?" Yvonne asked.

Broderick shrugged. "It shouldn't, but there's no guarantee. It's only a short-term solution, but it should at least get his stomach used to being full again."

"But what if it doesn't work?" Landon asked.

"Then, our only other option is to take him to the hospital."

Karine shook her head. "Not an option. I don't trust hospitals the way I trust you, Rick, and you know why."

"So, you want me to do it?"

"Shouldn't we talk to Elliot first?" Lyra asked. "This is about his wellbeing, after all."

Broderick nodded. "Of course. It'll be completely up to him. We'll ask him first thing tomorrow morning."

The sound of a soft sniffle followed and all eyes turned toward Elliot's room. Elliot stood in the doorway, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, with the most miserable expression on his face.

"Oh, darling, what are you doing out here?" Yvonne asked, rushing to his side. Elliot turned his gaze down to his feet. "You should be in bed."

Elliot sniffled again. "Just...heard yelling, and I...I'm sorry for eavesdropping."

"Don't be sorry, bud," Landon said. "Hey, it saves us the trouble of having to tell you."

Elliot didn't say anything. He swayed on his feet, but even he didn't know if that was from exhaustion or nerves. He'd heard absolutely everything, and the deep anxiety in the pit of his stomach only worsened with each second of silence.

"So," Broderick began. "What do you think?"

Elliot glanced up. "About what?" He asked.

"About...going on a feeding tube," Broderick clarified. Elliot's face turned pink and his gaze wavered. "It's completely your decision."

Elliot's chin was trembling. "Will-Will it hurt?"

"No, sweetheart, of course not. I would never do anything to hurt you. It might be a little uncomfortable going in, but I can give you some pain meds, and after a while, you won't even know it's there."

Elliot bit his bottom lip to stop the trembling. "If-If I don't do it, am-am I gonna...am I gonna die?" Unlike Elliot's last question, this one was met with hesitation. Elliot's heart dropped as tears flooded his dull eyes. "I don't-I don't wanna die," he cried. "I don't wanna-" Elliot's weak legs gave out as he buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Lyra rushed over to his side and caught him just before he hit the ground. They gently sat and positioned him on their lap, hugging him and rocking him gently. "It's okay, sunshine, you're not gonna die. I won't let that happen to you."

Elliot wept into Lyra's shoulder. "I'm...s-scared."

"I know, love, but it's going to be okay. Broderick's done this before." Lyra turned their gaze on the lurking medic. "Right?" They questioned.

Broderick nodded. "Of course, I've done this loads of time, back in..." Broderick broke off and glanced at Karine, who wore an unreadable expression. "Um...I'll just have to gather the supplies and we can get started whenever you're ready."

Elliot sniffled and looked up with teary eyes. "Wh-What if I'm never ready?"

Lyra hugged him tighter and carded their fingers through his hair. "It'll be all right, Elliot."

Elliot shook his head, pleading eyes staring into Lyra's. "But I don't wanna do this." His voice was small and quivering and it broke Lyra's heart.

"You'll be fine. I'll be there the whole time to hold your hand and talk you through it. Like Broderick said, it won't hurt. It'll just be a little inconvenient for a while. That's all."

Elliot's gaze dropped to the floor. "Okay," he whispered.

Lyra forced a weak smile as they cupped Elliot's face in their hands. "Hey," they said, bringing his attention back up to their eyes. "Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

Elliot looked absolutely pathetic. His cheeks were sunken and covered in tears. His eyes were red and swollen, snot dripped from his nose and his sandy-blond locks stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was in desperate need of a bath, and probably a hug. Luckily, Lyra was able to provide one of those things in that moment.

Lyra wrapped their arms around the small man on their lap and gently squeezed. Under normal circumstances, Lyra would've hugged him as tight as they possibly could, but now, he was so small and frail that they feared they would crush him if they tried. So, they simply opted to gently hold him against their chest and whisper softly into his ear, "I won't leave your side, sunshine. I won't let you go through this alone, I promise."

. . .

After some brief deliberation, the team ultimately decided to wait until the next morning to implement Elliot's feeding tube. The poor man was already terrified, and performing the procedure at two in the morning with little to no sleep didn't seem like the best idea.

All in all, the procedure took a little over an hour. Elliot had tried his best not to fight it, to remain perfectly still, but he'd been shaking the whole time. The worst part of it was when Elliot had to swallow to tube down himself. It was uncomfortable and invasive and the panic that overwhelmed him made his throat feel tight, which only worsened the discomfort.

When it was finally over, Broderick held a mirror up to his face and said, "What do you think?"

Elliot stared at his reflection as Lyra encouragingly squeezed his hand. There was a thin tube sticking out of his right nostril, hooking around his ear. The tube was taped to his face, and Elliot could make out some sort of colorless liquid moving through it.

The sight made him want to cry, but he forced a fake smile to his face and said, "Th-Thank you, Broderick."

Broderick smiled back. "You feeling okay?"

Elliot nodded. "Just...tired."

"Okay, get some rest, then. I'll be just out here if you need me." Elliot nodded again and Broderick quickly left him and Lyra alone. The second that Broderick was gone, tears began to slip down Elliot's face. He continued to stare at his reflection in the handheld mirror. His hands shaking as he did so.

"Elliot?" Lyra said. Elliot flinched, having completely forgotten that they were even there. "What's wrong? Does it hurt?"

Elliot shook his head and began furiously scrubbing at the tears on his face. "I hate this," he sobbed, dropping the mirror and burying his face in his hands.

Lyra held his hand. "What do you mean?"

A particularly loud sob came from Elliot's throat. "I-I hate b-being so ugly and u-useless! I hate that I can't eat like-like a normal person! I hate that I-that I look like this." Elliot's shoulders heaved with each loud sob he released. His whole body was trembling. "I just want to be normal," he mumbled. The words were muffled by his hands, but Lyra still understood.

Hearing that broke Lyra's heart. It hurt them enough to know that he needed the feeding tube, but to hear that it was only making him hate himself more than he already did? They didn't know what to do. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Well, it-it won't be on long," Lyra assured him. "It's just until your stomach gets used to being full again. Then, we can take it out and try out regular eating again."

Elliot shook his head. "I'm so ugly," he cried.

"No, sunshine, you're not. You are not ugly. You're still pretty, even with the tube."

Elliot lifted his face from his hands and gazed at the mirror once more. He took a few minutes to look at himself once more before he looked at Lyra and said, "I don't feel pretty."

Lyra's heart dropped. "Oh, sunshine." She scooted closer to him and gathered him in her arms, guiding his head to rest on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I wish we didn't have to do this to you, but we didn't have a choice. We weren't trying to make you feel ugly or useless. We just want you to get better. We want you to love yourself again."

Elliot sniffed. "I just want all of this to be over," he whispered.

"I know, sunshine. Someday, it will be. I promise. This won't last forever."

Elliot gently touched the tube running from his nose and behind his ear. As much as he hated it, he had to remind himself that it would make him better, which would make his teammates happy. All he wanted was to make his teammates happy.

Elliot glanced up at his best friend. "Do you...really think I'm pretty?"

Lyra smiled. "You're beautiful."

Elliot's gaze dropped. "But would you say that even if I wasn't?"

"Elliot," Lyra snapped.

Elliot's face burned bright red, and he hunched his shoulders to try and hide it. "I'm sorry," he squeaked.

Lyra sighed. "This is only going to make you feel better. We'll take it off once you've gained a bit of weight."

Elliot nodded. "Okay."

Lyra tilted their head to the side. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Elliot shrugged and laid down atop his soft bed. "Just...wanna sleep 'n f-forget about...everything."

Lyra nodded, helping him pull the soft comforter up to his neck. "I think that's a good idea. You've had a long twelve hours." She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and began to make her way out of the room, but not before she turned and whispered, "Goodnight, sunshine."

Elliot sniffled. "Goodnight, Lyra."

Once he was all alone again, he closed his eyes and started to cry.

-

Sorry this took so long! I've been super busy and haven't had much time to write! Also, sorry if this isn't entirely medically accurate lol, I'm not a doctor. I hope you enjoyed, though!

If anyone else has any drabble requests, suggestions, or questions for me or my characters, please send them to me!

Taglist:

@l-antre-des-merveilles @pigeonwhumps @nicolepascaline @burningkittypoet @whumpinggrounds @suffering-and-misery @make-them-scream @honeycollectswhump @rabass @whumpdreamz @clairelsonao3 @rosewriteswhump @cepheusgalaxy @pinkraindropsfell @mj-or-say10 @considerablecolors

If anyone else wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!😊

Or if you only want to be tagged in main chapters

#ask #anon #request #drabble request #worthless drabble #worthless ask #whump #whump blog #whumpee #whump writing #writing #my writing #whump community #caretaker #tw disordered eating #whumpblr #original story #original writing #original characters #pet whump #pet whumpee #not canon #Elliot Córdova #Lyra Beckett #Broderick Abara #Worthless #livelaughwhump

[emeraldkniight]

Part 2 of older pls 🙏

YOUNG !

damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . drabble smut. porn without plot. dirty talk and fingering.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . I'm so happy to give you all a part two of the first one shot I posted on this blog. Hope you like it. <3

Damian was the youngest of the family. He had grown up, but everyone still made jokes or references to being the youngest. You had the idea to join in the joke and he didn't like it. Now you were a victim of the consequences of teasing him.

He sharpened his katana from the comfortable chair in the room. He looked dangerous, not so much because he had a sharp weapon in his hands, but because of that look he always had, capable of destroying anyone.

— Are you here to continue telling jokes? — he asked.

You wondered how he could sense your presence in the vast room when your back was turned and you had not made any sound that would reveal your presence.

— I came to apologize.

He turned to look at you. Deep down, you had the idea that he knew you were only apologizing to get something from him and not so much because you were interested in keeping your relationship peaceful.

— I listen.

You walked a few steps further into the room. It was almost dark, and the sun was barely shining through the curtains, so your whole room looked almost dark.

You looked at him with an expression of redemption. Damian thought it was that victim look he always saw you with. Like a helpless little animal longing for warmth.

— I was wrong to make that joke about you, and I'm really sorry, but Damian... I need you. — You said, but were interrupted when you noticed that he had pulled you onto his hips and placed you on his lap.

He made you turn your neck until you could meet his intense green eyes. His breath collided with your face and his hands ran down your thighs until he carefully lifted your skirt, revealing your underwear.

— It was the only thing I wanted to hear, beloved.

His hands ripped off your panties in one fell swoop, leaving you with nothing to protect yourself. Even though your skirt was still on, you could feel your pussy rubbing against the scratchy fabric of his jeans.

He moved closer to you, so close that your lips could almost brush against his. He had never kissed you before, so you couldn't help but think that this was something special.

His finger slid through every crease of your already wet pussy. He sank into your wetness, sliding in as he tried to stroke you. Without thinking, he squeezed your clit, causing you to jump up and down on his lap from the shock.

— Do you like it? — he asked quietly. — Do you know how easy it was? I can make you feel so good. It's easy for me to reward those who behave.

You began to moan in his ear. It was the most beautiful sound Damian had ever heard. No matter that you were someone who liked to participate in his brothers' pranks, having you like this made him feel full.

He kissed your lips. You would never have thought that Damian's way of kissing would be so passionate and romantic, as if he was protecting you from all the evils of the world with a simple kiss. Suddenly, everything intensified and he began to take your lips with such force that it seemed he loved and hated you at the same time.

His fingers caressed your hole with barely perceptible delicacy. Going to the most pleasurable place inside you, stroking that spot inside you that could make you delirious with pleasure.

— Your apology is worthless. — He said. — You don't want to apologize to me, you just want this from me. But I have been too mean to you lately, don't you think, my beloved?

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne smut #smut #batboys

[theelfsongbard]

Astarion has a Nightmare Drabble (sfw + angst)

Cw: Cazador abuse

Summary: based on a prompt where Astarion slips into a proper sleep when Tav strokes his hair instead of going into an elven trance.

Astarion can feel the walls of brick closing in on him again. The air is sweet, rank, almost intoxicating and damp, so thick with moisture that he may as well be wading in the rotting breath of the house that has swallowed him. He has walked this path thousands of times before, knows it better than the tumblers on a lock that opens at his touch, and yet the way he feels his stomach drop in silent acceptance is still a familiar presence. Compulsion carries him where his feet do not wish to take him, whisking him obediently through the labyrinthine halls until he meets his master and is forced to his knees before him.

“Will you not even deign to greet your father when you see him, boy?” Cazador doesn’t even turn to face him, doesn’t need to when the authority in his voice is enough to make his household grovel for him.

The compulsion throbs behind his head, and he replies despondently. “Master.”

“Ah, so it seems you have not entirely forgotten your place,” turning around, he sneers down at his subject, the contempt clear as he notes his posture. Terrible. “And how many times have I told you to keep. Your. Back. Straight? You are a disappointment to my name. You should be grateful that you even have a home to come back to and a family to take you in, you worthless boy.”

Astarion keeps his eyes on the ground, taking note of the rivulets carved into the cold stone floor. His mind drifts to a place far from here and the noise that Cazador makes barely registers in his mind as he straightens up, waiting for the inevitable. But it's the *pain* that brings him back again. The pain and the loss of Cazador’s compulsion as his body threatens to crumple into the ground while the cursed knife he wields bites deep into his back, across his spine.

He is being tested. Punishments will be his undoing if he moves. But his mind fights against his better judgement and he twists himself, catching the knife between his hands just so he can make it stop.

||But there's a familiar voice in the din, echoing through the room, filled with sunlight and love and concern for him. He furrows his brows, tearing his concentration between stopping his master and trying to focus on the source of the voice. It feels so warm, so inviting… so different from the eternal cold that the chambers of Cazador’s palace are shrouded in.

“Astarion! Wake up!”

These stony floors, this master, this is no longer his reality, is it? Who is he? Where is he?

The voice returns with increasing urgency. “*Please!* I’m here for you.”

Suddenly he feels restrained, warmth envelopes him and he doesn’t know whether he should be afraid or give in to it. Instinctively, he lashes out against it, fear dominating his need to survive.

“ASTARION, you’re home, you’re safe. Please.” The voice breaks and there’s an overwhelming sadness that fills him, to hear them sound like that, as though they are a part of him that he doesn’t even know yet, dragging him up and out of his mind, breaching the bubble of subconsciousness until…

Gasping, he bolts upright sweat dripping and wracked with shivers. Looking down, he sees fresh linen. He’s on a clean bed, in a room that feels luxurious compared to what he once had. He has someone beside him, crying, long red lines etched across their arms.

What had he done?

The memories of the night before return, flooding him with realisation. He had been lying across their lap, their gentle hands running through his silvery curls. Their touch had been so inviting, so tempting. He had fallen asleep, slipping into the turbulent current of an uncontrolled dream. And now he had hurt the one person who had promised to stand by him through everything.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, closing his arms around them, his hands running over the welts he had created on their skin. “I… I was dreaming. That I was back with Cazador. There’s no excuse for this. I’m so sorry…”

Would you push him away now? Had he ruined the one good thing he had attained?

Dread filled the pit of his stomach as he waited for the inevitable. Yet it never came. Gentle hands swiped away at his tears, lingering on his cheeks with affection. Confusion clouded him and through the blurriness of tears, he could see them smiling.

“I’m just glad you’re home.”

What had he done to deserve this at all, he wondered.

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #angst with a happy ending

[maehemthemisfit]

mermaid! scaramouche splashing water in your face with his tail, causing you to become soaked. he would laugh and wave you off, though not before peering through his half-lidded eyes to see your expression. he’s been the most interesting mer-person by far.

he says he doesn’t like to sing but does it so well. he hates eating fish but knows a lot about which one is better for grilling. he says human treasure is worthless, yet he always finds himself being drawn to inazuman clothes and accessories washed ashore. he says he doesn’t get sunburnt but demands that you set up an umbrella for him.

truly the most annoying of his kind, but he owns it.

- 🐚

THE UMBRELLA PART IS KILLING MEEE HE'S SO SPOILED 😭

The most high maintenance and tedious mermaid to work with honestly. You don't know why you keep coming back, just to practically be in his servitude. He expects you to cook every fish he brings you for him to eat, and it has to be seasoned and grilled perfectly, otherwise he'll complain for ages and claim that you're trying to poison him (He still eats it all tho). You're too enamored by him to leave, your curiosity always bringing you back to his shore. He's always cranky though if you've been away for a long time.

He's the type to throw fish or crabs at passersby to keep them away from your meeting spot. Sometimes, he spits a stream of water at children and swims away just as they bring their parents, pointing at the water to say that they saw a person, just for their parents to drag them away and tell them to stop making up stories while he's happily giggling underwater.

When you're bored, you make sandcastles together, and he's always the ruler of whatever kingdom you make. He pretends that all the sand dwellers/critters are his subjects and sometimes (tries) to hold public executions for any he deemed defy them (they were running away) just for you to stop him before he chops a poor crab and ask you to cook it.

And as much as he doesn't care for treasures as he claims, he still goes digging around the ocean floor, excavating treasures from the ocean and from lost human possessions to lazily gift them to you, claiming he found them laying around and thought you'd appreciate the 'junk' or whatever humans called it. He loved seeing your face light up at the things he brings, but he'll never admit it.

He doesn't usually engage in your conversation about your day, but you find that he tokens every little like and dislike you happen to mention and keeps it in the back of his mind for later, sometimes using it to pick out better gifts. He plays coy (lol) whenever you ask him about it though!

.° ୭ ៳ Genshin Drabble Masterlist・✩

#hello shell anon! #answered 💌 #[🍩] mae . • . ° inbox ♡⁠˖ #letters from: 🐚 #[💛] mae . • . ° favorites ♡⁠˖ #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #wanderer headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #wanderer fluff #[🌺] mae ｡・⁠｡ talks genshin ♡⁠˖♪ #scaramouche fluff #mermaid scaramouche #mermaid wanderer #mermaid genshin

[arafilez]

੭୧ ⼂ MY MIND AND ME ﹗

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ kgv x reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤangst comfort 𓏧 drabble ㅤㅤ warnings depression crying ㅤ﹢ㅤ0.6k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

You look outside your window and lean your head against it, letting the room's quietness consume you. Your eyes follow a group of kids on their bicycles laughing and playing around on the road on the spring morning. It is beautiful actually! The air smells nice with all the flowers, the breeze is cool and the birds are singing but none of that removes the emptiness within you.

The negligence to do anything at all, the knowledge that you will probably mess up even if you try well haunts inside your mind as if it has dug up a hole and peacefully rests there. You look over at the dirty pile of papers you wanted to arrange for your project last night and sigh.

What’s the point? You will probably fail it anyway! The room looks a mess, unlike your mind! Your mind is peaceful. Cool, calm and useless. It has established you are good for nothing, a house of cards which will break with the lightest gush of wind. Or is it working through the torture in its sails? You don’t know.

You would rather not solve anything with this irresponsible and useless self of yours. A creak of your door makes you look up in panic. Did your forgetful self not lock the door? Your eyes widen in fear, breaths shallowing and mind hazed. Something’s severely wrong and you are the cause of it.

Your breath quickens and becomes heavier as your eyes dart frantically across the room until your eyes lock with your roommate Gyuvin and his brown eyes that are filled with concern. “Gyu hey,” you mutter out as cheerfully as possible as Gyuvin’s eyes hold yours and a shudder rakes through your body.

He can’t. He won’t possibly know what is going on with you. Is anything going on with you?

“Are you okay?” he asks, crossing the room with quick strides and gently threading his fingers with yours as you nod. Yes, you are fine, you just feel worthless and that’s realistic. So basically you are fine.

Gyuvin’s eyes go over your features and the past few weeks come crashing back to him- the small amounts of dinner you had, your messy desk, your reluctance to attend classes and so many more issues he had missed. He knew something was wrong and his instinct suffered from the idea while his conscience told him he was overreacting. But today he knew!

He looks at you and whispers, “Hey we’re gonna be okay,” and you snort. You probably want to cry but what is the point? And what does he know? You might never be okay anymore. Your throat constricts and you choke a light sob as you feel Gyuvin’s arm circle around yours. You cannot break down; you have been building it up so well and must use it when needed.

But when Gyuvin puts his head over yours, his arms becoming tighter around your body, your eyes tear up at everything that has happened for so long and worsened over the past few weeks. A small tear runs down your eyes and his fingers hold your hand tighter.

Pressing a light kiss at the top of your head and making a mental note to book an appointment Gyuvin caresses your fingers. He knows he can’t fully help you but he will do whatever he can. Even if it means, holding you and never letting go.

Because you need someone and he will gladly be that someone any day of his life.

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤtysm anon for requesting this, i did some cosulting with my dad's psychiatrist friend about depression and tried. so i am aware it isn't goodㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ @slytherinshua @sxmmerberries ㅤ𓏧ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

#ㅤ── ㅤara posts ㅤ𝜗𝜚 #k-labels #kim gyuvin #zerobaseone gyuvin #gyuvin x reader #zerobaseone x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin #zb1 x reader #zb1 gyuvin #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 fanfiction #zerobaseone fics #gyuvin fluff #kim gyuvin fluff #zb1 fics #zb1 fluff #zerobaseone fluff #zhang hao x reader #jiwoong x reader #hanbin x reader #matthew x reader #taerae x reader #ricky x reader #gunwook x reader #yujin x reader #⺌ r.equests ♡ #⋈ ˚ ‹ zb1 › #𓂃 FIC : my mind and me 𒉽