#emotional abuse leave scars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evilgwrl · 11 days

Text

DBF!John Price x Reader

Daddy’s Girl

Summary: He’s supposed to be your dad’s best friend…

CW: DADDY KINK, PIV unprotected sex (use contraception irl), breeding kink, age gap (u r legal.), size kink if u squint, degradation, praise, sub/dom undertones, public flashing of your coochie, fingering, breast play, abuse of power ?

It was so wrong.

So, so wrong.

Maybe that’s why you did it, for the thrill, the burning satisfaction that reeks through you, curling under every vessel as you stare at him with those oh-so-innocent eyes. You watched him from across the backyard, broad muscles bulging out of his shirt, almost too tight as they squeezed against his biceps like a vice, snaking veins out of his battered and scarred skin.

John was a friend of your father’s, a good one at that, always being invited to the family barbeques and he’s canoodled amongst family members and close friends, working his way around the room with a cocky confidence that only spurred your thoughts on. There was a beer gripped in his right hand, a smug smile on his face as he cracked a joke with your dad, both blabbering on about God knows what.

He was attractive, his hair a mocha brown, slight strays of grey sneaking their way into an occasional strand. His moustache was thick, hair connecting across his face, complimented by a thick beard that merged into his sideburns. Cerulean eyes occasionally darted to you, observing you as you watched him with a sweet expression, twirling your hair as you blatantly checked him out.

You were sat on a lawn chair that faced him, everyone else mingling amongst one another, leaving you alone. A sundress adorned your skin, hugging your features in a flattering way as the bright colours complimented you. He turned away from the grill, standing in your direction as he nursed the beer to his thin lips, his stare penetrating through you. Your legs uncrossed, twitchy fingers pulling at the hem as it glided up your thighs, your game almost dangerous if anyone saw you.

You watched his chest rumble as he cleared his throat (which was an obvious decoy), eyes glancing away as you let out a shallow laugh, his reaction stirring something dark through you. Your dress rested at the very top of your thigh, legs clamped together as you waited for his steady eyes to fall back onto you.

Like clockwork, they did.

Your legs cocked up slightly, your dress slipping up more skin before you spread your legs, lack of panties evident as your folds glistened under a peak of sun. You watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the glass bottle, eyes furrowing in both shock and another emotion you couldn’t quite place.

You adjusted your dress, standing up as you walked over to the man and your father, an innocent smile adorning your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun.

“Nearly ready, daddy?” You asked, talking to your father yet staring right at his friend.

“Nearly, sweetheart. Bout 10 minutes. You hungry?”

“Starving,” you said, licking your lips as you walked away, brushing past John as you headed inside, practically begging him internally to follow, your hips sashaying in a poor attempt to further seduce the older man.

Shaky hands poured the champagne into a flute, bubbles sizzling through the air as you raised the glass to your lips before a rough cough interrupted you, the liquid splashing down your chin as it dribbled onto your display of cleavage. You turned around, your eyes almost widening as you took in the sheer size of Price, thick arms crossed over his chest as he glared at you. You didn’t miss the way he glanced down at your wet chest before he looked back up at you.

“You playing a game with me, sweetheart?”

“No, sir. What makes you say that?” You ask, faux purity lacing your tone as you lean over the kitchen island, breasts pressed against the marble as you look at him.

John stepped close at an alarming rate, heavy footsteps pounding against the floor as he approached you, fist curling around your hair as he tilted your head up harshly.

“Playing a dangerous game, darling, something you’re not fit for.”

“Anything can fit with a little bit of effort,” you smiled, staring up at him.

His movements were rough as he lifted your dress, bare ass exposed as he cracked a hand down on it before groping it harshly, nails digging into the flesh as he growled against your neck, facial hair tickling you as you gasped at the sudden impact.

“John-“

Another slap.

“Not my fucking name, is it? What’s my fucking name?”

“S-Sir?”

Another slap.

“Too much of a whore to use your brain?”

“No daddy,” you whined before he smiled against your skin, teeth nibbling against your flesh as he fondled with your ass, admiring the red prints, the stain of his hand print.

“That’s it, maybe you’re smarter than I thought.”

“Not here,” you whined, pressing your ass closer to his hands as he ground his pants into the crevice, bulge pressing against you with a hard poke. He let out a huff before pulling your dress down, both of you eagerly descending up the stairs to your room.

John’s hands were all over you, pulling your dress down your chest as he wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you in place as he licked at your cleavage, cleaning up the sticky champagne that stuck to you.

Your nipples pebbled in the air as you whined, his spare hand tweaking one as you bucked your hips. “Need you to fuck me, daddy,” you mewled, a growl leaving his throat as he tugged you over with ease to your bed, sliding the rest of your dress off before it was discarded into a pile of clothes.

“Desperate whore, aren’t you? Showing me your pussy while I’m standing next to your father? How many of his other friends have you done that too?”

His tone was rough as his fingers found your pussy, smearing around your slick in a messy manner as he tightened the grip around your throat.

“None,” you hissed as he toyed with your clit before delivering a harsh slap to it, the pain jolting through your body as you jumped.

“None who?” He snarled as he dipped a finger into your heat, curling it around as he felt your gummy walls.

“None daddy, just you- fuck.”

Another finger worked their way through you as you moaned pornographically, eyes rolling back as he rubbed against your sweet spot, pleasure multiplying through you as you rolled your hips.

“You fuck up again and I’ll leave you here like this, understand me?”

“Yes daddy,” you cooed, staring up at him with fanned lashes.

He grumbled out a ‘good girl’ as he began to quicken his pace, fingers moulding inside you as you slurred out a mix of moans and whines, your lip tucked between your teeth as blue eyes watched you.

John’s mouth dived down to your chest as he held a hand at your throat still, his squeeze tight as he relentlessly fucked you with his fingers. A sensitive nipple was wet by the flat of his tongue before it was curled into his mouth, teeth grazing against it as you yelped, arousal leaking out of you like a faucet.

The coil in your stomach began to build, simmering inside you as your hips worked with his pace, eyes a bleak white as they rolled into your skull at the intensity of the feeling before it was gone, orgasm broiling away with a disappointing sensation as John slid his fingers out, slick coating them in an arrogant fashion as he pulled them apart, admiring the webs that weaved between his digits.

John was quick to rid his pants, letting them pool at his ankles as he glared at you, almost begging you with his eyes to complain so he could bend you over his knee and spank you raw.

You crawled up the bed, thighs twitching with eagerness before his hands were at your ankles, pulling you towards the edge in a dominant fashion as he took in the way your breasts jiggled at the movement.

“You gonna be good for me? Gonna let daddy split this pussy, hm?”

“Y-Yes daddy,” you stuttered out, asshole soaked in your own slick that pooled between your bruised cheeks.

“Good little slut,” he smirked before he was gripping his cock through his boxers, precum staining next to the mushroom head in a lewd manner before they were pulled down, heavy cock slapping against his t-shirt as you whined.

He was big, his girth almost scaring you as it flushed a deep red, multiple veins running across the shaft that connected with thick curls of dark pubes, his balls hanging as he leaked at the sight of you, so complacent underneath him.

Slowly, he lowered his cock, pressing it against your hole as you winced, gripping onto his large bicep as he towered over you, pulling away from your lips to look at you.

“You ready?”

“Yes daddy, please-“

His cock split through you inch by inch as he slid it into the tight crevice, walls expanding to his sheer size as you whined, a hand pushing against his chest as you gagged into the air at the burn.

“Move your hand,” John growled, nipping at your wrist as you complied, wrapping it around the back of his head as you gasped, the stretch searing through you.

“Too fucking big, daddy. I- can’t-“

“You can fucking take it.”

In a swift movement, he had bottomed out, a cry shedding from your lips as you shifted underneath his large frame, your legs still spread without your hands now as you clutched onto him.

His hips began to move, pulling out almost all the way before he rocked back into you, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you bit down on the air. He gradually fastened his pace, balls slapping against the back of your ass as crude slurps of your pussy squelched against the walls of the room, the sound bouncing from ear to ear as you moaned.

“F-Fuck daddy,” you slurred, your brows furrowed as you looked down, watching the way your pussy absorbed his cock, the length disappearing into you.

“Tight fucking pussy, all for me- all for fucking daddy.”

You nodded, the pleasure causing you to blabber as you whaled out noises, barely able to form a sentence. Your walls were gripping down on his cock as he worked into you, eager to coat your walls a pearly white, staining you with his seed.

“Oh my god,” you babbled as you lowered a hand to your clit, rubbing it with fervour as he pounded into you mercilessly, “don’t stop daddy, please.”

“You gonna let me cum in this pussy, sweetheart? Gonna make me an actual daddy?”

“Ye-yes daddy, please fill me up-“

He growled at your utter submission, hips bruising against yours as his pace fastened, the coil from before building again at a quickening rate as you cried out at the feeling, clit pulsing under your touch.

It wasn’t long before the build up snapped, clit throbbing with eagerness as your moan broke into the air, your head thrown back as you clawed at his back, orgasm ripping through you as your walls clenched around him deliciously, eager to milk his cock as he groaned.

“Good fucking girl, making such a mess on Daddy’s dick,” he spat, kissing you as he fucked you through your release, your body spasming as your thighs wrapped around him harder, locking him in place as his thrusts grew sloppy.

“Gonna ruin this pussy with my cum, plant a fucking baby in you- all fucking mine.”

“All yours daddy-“ you slurred, holding onto him before he stilled, a gush of cum pumping through your pussy as he painted your walls with thick coats of ivory, a whine leaving you as you clutched onto him harder.

John stayed inside you as you both panted, his arms resting against your face as he pressed a light kiss to your forehead in a comforting manner. You laughed, pecking his lips as he slowly pulled out, cum leaking from your abused cunt.

Your body ached as you winced at the empty feeling, almost desperate to have him back inside you.

“You got tissues, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, in my drawer-“

There was a light tap on the door before a familiar voice called out to you, “Honey, the foods gonna get cold, what’s holding you up in there?”

#evilgwrl #GOD I LOVE PRICE #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #price smut #price x reader #price cod #captain price #captain price x you #captain price smut

638 notes · View notes

cutebat · 2 months

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The First Page

Warning(s): Neglect, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mind break (There are no yandere themes yet, but will be in another chapter)

(This chapter is basically the first part of the prologue and some things fixed)

~~~~~

10 years old.

You were only 10 years old when the Gotham's billionaire, Bruce Wayne, entered through the doors of the orphanage that you lived under of.

You could remember the owner holding your hand as she lead you to the man who is going to be your father.

You remember when he placed his hand on your head as he introduced himself to you and promised that he'll give you a great life.

You remember when you came to the manor as he introduced you to your new family that consists of four new older brothers, one new older sister, and a butler.

You remember when everyone would talk to you and welcome you with loving embraces.

You also remember a few days foward when Bruce gave you a costume that resembled a white dress with pink details, which earned you the title of Batgirl.

And after all of that, it's like it never happened.

~~~~~

You are now being ignored by everyone.

Nobody gave you a glance, made excuses, and basically beat the shit out of you. Well, not exactly.

For example, there was one day when you came up to Bruce with a flyer in your hand.

"Um, hi, Bruce... I know you're busy right now, but... I'm going to have a school play and I got the main role. So... I hope you can stop by and watch."

You tell him in the nicest way possible.

However, Bruce was so focused on his paperwork that he didn't give you a glance. All he said was...

"Hm? Yeah, I'll go check it out if I finish all of this."

And suprise, suprise, he never showed up.

This resulted in you crying in the girl's restroom all alone in your costume.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you felt like you needed to train more, so you did it by going up to Dick who seems to be training with Damian.

"Um, guys? Can I join you two?"

You ask as you smile awkwardly as your two older brothers turned to you.

Which is why you became surprised when Dick smiles.

"Sure! But, do you mind if you wait until me and Damian are done with this sparring session? It won't take too long."

He said with a chuckle as Damian looked like he was glaring at his little sister.

You didn't want to be rude, which is why you just nodded before you went over to the corner and watched your brothers train.

As an hour passed, Dick and Damian stopped, which made you take the chance to finally train with them.

However, you seemed confused when you saw the two turning around and walking out of the batcave.

"He-Hey, Dick? I thought you and Damian were going to train with me."

You speak up in a timid tone, which the two clearly heard.

"Oh, about that. Sorry, (name), but we were already planning to go to the cafe for a break. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Dick said with an 'apologetic' expression before he leaves with Damian.

Because of this, you never asked him to train with you again.

~~~~~

These were all easily common, but there were some moments when it scarred you.

One time, Tim was basically forced to bring you to a mission along with his friends.

As the patrol went on, you seemed to get distracted a bit when you spotted Conner having some trouble.

Because of this, you left the scene and quickly dived in and fought alongside the teenage Kryptonian. Thanks to you, everything was handled.

Conner thanked you before someone yelled out your name. This made you jolt as you turned to see an angry Tim storming over to you.

Before you can say anything, he cuts you in.

"What on earth were you doing?! I told you to stay where you are, and you just had to ignore everything I say, don't you?!"

He yells as if someone murdered his close family member.

This made you so shocked as Conner was stunned. When Cassie and Bart came over to the spot, they were both shocked to see their friend, yelling at his little sister.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Tim. (name) didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who called her over to help me."

Conner defends you, but of course, Tim doesn't listen.

"Don't even try to defend her! She knows what she did! Oh, I am SO going to report this to Batman, so don't even try to cover yourself up!"

Tim said in a frustrated and angry tone towards you before he used his grappling hook and swooped down, leaving you behind with his friends.

"Hey, what the hell, asshole!"

Conner shouts out at his friend as he was shocked to him this angry.

He lets out a sigh before he looks over to see Cassie and Bart, comforting you as you are crying in their arms.

~~~~~

Yelling wasn't the only thing that you had to endure.

You even went through moments when things got a little too... physical.

It all happened when you were just trying to help someone in need.

You were walking down the hallway during the night as you just wanted a cup of water. As you were wandering down the hallway, you noticed some voices from someone's bedroom.

Jason's bedroom.

This made you curious as you got close to the door to hear Jason talking amongst himself as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He kept muttering stuff out of his mouth, which made you worried.

That is when you made a mistake by going inside.

"Jason...? Are you okay?"

You ask in a timid voice.

At that moment, Jason snaps his head towards you before everything starts to go blur. All you remember is him grabbing something like a pole type object before it was brought down towards your head.

And then, you woke up in your own bedroom, except you have a bandage wrapped around your head.

When you sat up, all you saw was Alfred, the family's loyal butler. No sign of your other family around, concerning about you.

Luckily, you recovered, and the wound went away after a month.

And, of course, Jason never apologized for what he did to you.

~~~~~

A few months was in, and no improvement has been made. You were always ignored. They made excuses of not wanting to spend time with you, and some of them actually hit you a few times.

All of that happened to your ten year old self.

But, did you give up on that spot? Nope.

You discovered on the internet what you can do to please your family to gain their attention. There were a lot of results, but the one that kept popping up the most was trying to reach your best achievements, which would result in them showing you more support from them.

And that's what you did.

You started to join in many after-school activities and studied all your might. It was tiring, and you almost passed out from exhaustion, but you kept going because you wanted at least your family to notice you.

The problem is that they never did.

They never congratulated you, celebrated on your accomplishment, and most of all, they didn't even give you a glance when you showed off.

All of that for nothing. Damn.

~~~~~

The breaking point wasn't because of all that. It was when someone else entered the family.

Duke Thomas.

A metahuman teenager whose parents died from the Joker Venom.

You thought that they might treat him the same way that they had treated you.

But, nothing.

Duke was showered with love, attention, and even praise.

The things that you never got when you came here.

Whenever you pass by whatever event that they're holding, you will always see them together. Being all happy, chatting, and laughing with one another.

They never do that when they're around you. Even on your birthdays. Actually, when was the last time they all celebrated your birthday?

At that moment, something inside you just snapped. Like, a loud crack echoes through your head that makes a loud ringing sound, kind of like a wake-up call.

Then, it all clicked.

They never cared about you.

They never even liked you.

The only reason why Bruce adopted you is because nobody wanted to.

~~~~~

The thoughts kept running through your head as you walked into an alleyway with a trash bag in hand.

Earlier today at school, you dropped out the clubs that you absolutely hated and pretty much just purposely laid back in your classes.

You feel empty.

When you finally reach the dumpster, you got on top of some stacked boxes because of your height and open the large lid.

You could only stare inside that had a lot of black colored trash bags. Your eyes were blank as you stared down inside.

That's when you muttered out.

"Why even bother...?"

With that, you tossed the trash bag that you were holding on into the dumpster.

After what it felt like hours, you finally got off of the boxes that you were standing on top of before you walked out of the alleyway.

As you walked away, something fell out of the trash bag that you threw out.

It was a white bat eared helmet.

The accessory that once matched with your costume.

That's right.

You were no longer Batgirl.

You never were, anyway.

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15

(If you want to be on the taglist, let me know!)

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #neglected reader #platonic #yandere dc

903 notes · View notes

marvelsmylife · 3 months

Text

Scars Part One

Pairing: Azriel x Tamlin’s daughter!Reader

Plot: you are Tamlin’s only daughter who he has locked away in his estate in fear that something bad is going to happen to you. What happens when Mor decides to take you with her when she was sent to bring Feyre back to the Night Court. In a twist of fate, you discover that Azriel is your mate and while your stand off-ish at first (due to past abuse by your father), Azriel slowly gains your trust and falls in love.

A/n believe it or not this was just a quarter of the story I’m currently writing. I’m sorry the majority is just Feyre and the reader but I wanted to set everything up for the later parts.

Warning: ANGST ! ! ! Mention of abuse. Azriel just wants to be around his mate.

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Request

Growing up, your father had you ordered to stay in the manor at all times. Only being able to leave the manor if you were accompanied by one of your father’s employees. Even then, you weren’t allowed to your backyard.

He became worse when Amarantha entered the picture and prohibited you from leaving your room when she would send Rhysand to check on him. Of course, Rhysand knew of your existence but kept it to himself. He knew you were innocent in all of this, and while he was still angry about what happened to his mother and sister, he wouldn’t stoop to Tamlin’s level.

Things suddenly changed for you when Tamlin brought Feyre to the manor. Yes, your father had brought other females to your home in the past, but there was something different about Feyre. You knew she was different the instant you met her, and quickly became friends.

Since you knew how stubborn your father was, you spoke to her when your father wasn’t around. You would tell her to give him time and that you could tell your father really liked her.

Feyre would be grateful after every chat you would have and started asking Tamlin if you could accompany her on walks beyond the mansion. Tamlin wanted to refuse, but the second Feyre threatened to leave, he finally let you go with her. But just as things were looking up for you and Feyre, everything came crashing down.

Because Feyre didn’t tell Tamlin that she loved him to break the curse, Amarantha sent for your father. Luckily, he was able to hide you just in time so they wouldn’t take you with him. Even though he treated you horribly, you were sad your father was taken away and wished that there was something you could do to bring him back.

That’s when Feyre showed up at the manor a few weeks later. After telling her what happened while she was away, she promised to free your father from the curse. “Don’t worry y/n, I’ll bring him back. I promise,” Feyre swore and gave you a hug before leaving.

Feyre kept her promise and was able to break the curse Amarantha placed. Sadly, you noticed there was something off with her after she arrived from under the mountain. You tried to ask her what was wrong so you could help her process her emotions. She would try to brush it off and say she was fine, but you knew she was lying.

It didn’t help that your father became even more protective over you and Feyre. After he proposed to Feyre, he prohibited both of you from leaving the manor unless it was necessary. He also threatened to fire anyone who let you outside. While you were used to this side of your father, Feyre wasn’t, and you started worrying about her mental state.

There were several moments leading up to the wedding where you would ask Feyre if she was sure she wanted to marry your father. Even though she would say she was, you could tell she did not want to marry him. That’s why you were relieved when Rhysand popped up just as Feyre was walking down the aisle and called in the bargain he made with Feyre.

Feyre felt guilty enjoying her time away from the spring court because she missed your company. She also feared for your well-being as well and was scared Tamlin was going to hurt you while she was away. There were times when she wanted to tell Rhysand about your situation but didn’t out of fear that Tamlin would retaliate for helping you.

While she was away, your father trashed the entire mansion and became more violent towards you. He had convinced himself that you had something to do with Rhysand showing up and calling in the bargain he made with Feyre.

He only mellowed out once Feyre was back home. While you were happy to see her, especially seeing how healthy she looked, you couldn’t help but feel sad for her. You knew deep down she didn’t want to be here anymore, and you tried to hint to her that she should have stayed at the night court.

Time after time, Feyre told you that she was ok and that she was happy staying in the spring court. You almost started to believe her until your father prohibited both of you from leaving the manor. Since Feyre’s arrival, you’ve learned to ignore that rule and sneak out. Unfortunately, this time, when you tried to sneak out, you were met with a magic shield around the manor. Something inside Feyre snaps that moment and wraps herself in a cocoon of darkness.

You were genuinely terrified something bad was going to happen to Feyre and rushed over to her to break whatever trance she was in. It was then that Mor stormed into the house and was able to bring her back to reality. “Let’s go Feyre. I’m taking you away from here,” Mor told Feyre and tried to get her up.

“No,” Feyre whispered and looked over in your direction, “I can’t leave y/n behind.”

Your heart broke for Feyre at that moment because even though she was struggling, she was still looking out for you. “It’s ok Feyre. Please go, be happy outside of this prison,” you told Feyre, but she just shook her head. “Please, do it for me.”

“No, I’m not leaving you behind,” Feyre cried, and back at Mor, “she has to come with us. Tamlin is abusing her as well.”

You were ready to decline Feyre’s offer again when Mor came up to you and asked, “Do you feel safe here?” You shook your head no, “does your father abuse you?” You nodded yes, “Would you like to seek refuge in our court?” You didn’t say a word for several minutes before Mor added, “I need an answer before your father returns.”

“Yes,” you replied without a second thought, and before you knew it, you were taken away from the chaos in your home.

You passed out the moment you arrived at the night court and didn’t wake up until three days later. You were scared when you first woke up and wandered through the home until you spotted Feyre speaking with a group. Almost as if she sensed your presence, Feyre looked over at you and smiled before walking over to you, “Y/n, you’re awake.”

At that moment, Azriel felt the mating bond snap for him, and he felt his knees go weak at the sight of you. He wanted to walk up to you, and comfort you because you looked terrified, but he watched you hide behind Feyre. “It’s ok. They’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe now,” Feyre turned and hugged you before turning towards Rhysand, “Can you guys give us a moment? I need to speak with y/n in private.”

Rhysand nodded and got everyone to leave so Feyre could speak to you privately. “You have nothing to worry about. They are kind,” Feyre reassured you as she watched you fidget with your gloves.

“I know,” you replied while you studied the room you were currently in, “I already feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest, but I’m just not comfortable being around new faces.”

“You’ll get used to them, I promise,” Feyre reassured you before giving you a tight hug, “In the meantime, why don’t I give you a tour of our new home?”

Azrie, in the meantime, was pacing back and forth as he realized that not only did he find his mate, but you were also Tamlin’s daughter. Azriel let his friends know about you being his mate the second they were alone, and they remained silent because they didn’t know what to tell him. That only caused Azriel to get more nervous, which caused his shadows to go wild. Rhysand noticed his brother's nervous state and placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Can I give you a piece of advice?” Rhysand asked and snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, “Don’t tell her your mates yet. Tamlin did a real number on her, and the last thing she needs is for you to come in and claim her as your mate.” Azriel wanted to argue with Rhysand about his advice. He thought maybe if you knew you were mates, you wouldn’t be so scared, especially around him. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized his brother was right.

So he watched as you grew close with Amren and Mor while he hoped you would come around and want to spend time with him. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to wait long. While you were standoffish at first because you still didn’t fully trust males, you slowly found yourself becoming more comfortable around Rhysand, Cassian, and especially Azriel. Azriel was happy when he realized you were more comfortable being around him. He found himself seeking you out more and started inviting you out to either dinner or dancing.

You would accept every time, and soon, you realized that you had developed feelings towards him. Azriel noticed and decided to let it slip that you two were mates while having lunch on the balcony of the House of Wind. “Really?” you smiled at Azriel, “my father said I didn’t have a mate. That mates are rare, and I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“Your father was wrong,” Azriel replied before tugging on the bond and causing you to look at him in shock, “you are my mate, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from anything and anyone. That includes your father.”

Your body tensed at Azriel's words, which caused Azriel to reach over and place his hands over your covered ones. “Was he always so cruel to you?”

“Yes, he’s always been cruel,” you said softly, but Azriel was still able to hear what you said. “Ever since my mother passed away when I was an infant, my father had an obsession with keeping me safe. He would punish me if I disobeyed him,” you added before you finally decided to remove the gloves you’d been wearing since you arrived at the night court.

Azriel’s eyes landed on your arms and felt himself becoming enraged. Scars littered your hands and forearms, “How did you get these?”

“The ones on my hands were from him grabbing me too tight when I would, in his words, ‘disobey him’. These-” you motioned to the claw marks that still look fresh on your forearms, “Happened the day after Feyre returned to the spring court the first time. He was about to attack her because she looked disappointed that she was back in the spring court.” Azriel stared at you in shock. He knew Tamlin was a piece of shit, but he never imagined that he would hurt his own flesh and blood. “He told me that I had no right to get in between their arguments and ordered our staff to not treat my wounds.”

You remembered that night lividly. All of the staff stared at Tamlin in disbelief at his request. Some of them also saw you as their daughter, and it pained the staff to see you hurt and not being allowed to help you.

The only one who actually disobeyed your father's orders was Alis. She ignored Tamlin’s order, and snuck into your room at night and treated your wounds. “You shouldn’t be here. My father will punish you for helping me,” you told her as she cleaned your wounds and bandaged you up.

“I do not care,” Alis replied, “you are hurt, and I won’t let your father's pigheadedness stop me from treating these very serious wounds.”

“Thank you for being more of a parent to me than my own father.” you cried into Alis’ shoulder. Alis tried not to cry at your words and held you in her arms until you eventually fell asleep.

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect. I know these scares are ugly. and there are a lot of females who are way more gorgeous and perfect.” You rambled without looking Azriel in the eye.

“I am the last one to judge someone based on how they look.” Azriel placed his scared hands on top of yours, “You are the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen. Just like you think my scars are beautiful, I think yours are as well.”

You smiled at Azriel’s words because you remembered the day you told Azriel you thought his hands were beautiful. He thought you were mocking him and was about to storm out of the room until you placed a kiss on top of them. While Azriel already knew he loved you, but that day, he felt like you loved him as well, even if you didn’t outright say it.

“C-can you kiss me, please?” You asked timidly.

Azriel felt himself grinning at your request because he’d been dying to kiss you since Mor brought you to the night court. “Of course I will, my love,” Azriel replied before leaning in and kissing you.

Since this was your first kiss, you had no idea what you were supposed to do, so you let Azriel take control. “Thank you,” you managed to say when you finally pulled away but still held onto Azriel.

“There’s no need to thank me. You are my mate, and I’ll do anything for you,” Azriel caressed your cheek before leaning in and kissing you again. Unlike the first kiss, this one was more passionate, and he managed to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Azriel was about to pull you onto his lap when Rhysand let out a cough, and caused you to pull away. “I’m sorry to interrupt this intimate moment, but we have located the cauldron. We need you two inside so we can go over the plan to nullify it.” Azriel cursed his brother's name for interrupting your special moment before you both went inside.

After spending hours running the plan to nullify the cauldron, you arrived at the Hybern castle with Feyre ready to do her part. Unfortunately, you were too late. The next thing you guys knew, Jurian appeared. “No ! ! !” You cried, watching your mate get severely injured by the ash bolt that Jurian shot through his chest.

You were going to go towards him, but Mor stopped you. “Don’t,” Mor warned before the king of Hybern announced that they needed to do as he said, or else he was going to kill Azriel.

Not wanting your mate to die, you all did as the king of Hybern said and followed him into his throne room. That’s when you saw your father and Lucian in the room. Lucien gave you a sympathetic look while your father glared at you. That glare turned into concern when he spotted Feyre.

While Feyre and your father argued about her being manipulated by Rhysand, you were trying to soothe Azriel through the bond. It wasn’t until they brought out Feyre’s sisters that you realized what was happening around you. In horror, you watched as Feyre’s sisters were forced into the cauldron and turned into faes. “No,” you whispered to yourself and locked eyes with your father, who was just as surprised by the king of Hybern's actions.

Your heart broke for Feyre’s sisters, and was stunned when you heard Lucien whisper that Elain was his mate. You had the primal urge to go towards her sisters and protect them from your father and Lucien.

Feyre stopped you and suddenly announced that they were right, and she was under Rhysand’s spell. She turned to the king and begged him to break the bond. You look at her wide-eyed until the king breaks their bond, and Feyre passes out for a few minutes.

When she awakens, Lucien walks over to help her while Tamlin looks at you. “Break my daughter's mating bond as well. I don’t wish for her to be mated to that brute.” Tamlin demanded, which caused Feyre to panic internally.

To her relief, the king of Hybern replied with a, “No. I’ve done what you ask. You may go now.”

Tamlin was furious that the king denied his request, so he took matters into his own hands. He marched over to you and threw you over his shoulder, “he might be your mate, but I’m still your father, and I’m taking you back home.”

“Azriel !” you shouted at your injured mate. That’s when Azriel let out an agonizing cry as he watched Tamlin carry you away from him.

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel x you

453 notes · View notes

noemilivv · 7 months

Note

hi, I hope you’re having a good day, I’d love to leave a request for Hazbin Hotel.

Could I request Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Vox and Lucifer (feel free not to do them all if they’re too many) and how they would react when their s/o finds them crying and comforts them and gives them a hug? I’d love some reverse comfort for them they’re my favs, also gn reader pls!

hello!! i’m having a good day, i hope you are as well!! this was a very interesting concept to think about, especially for alastor haha, it may be a bit out of character but i tried my best lol

Warnings: Potentially OOC Alastor, S1 Finale Spoilers, Swear Words, Mentions of Valentino, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Mentions of Injury (Scars, Bruises, Blood, Ect), Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Sex (No Smut)

Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Vox x Reader (Reverse Comfort)

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t one to express much emotion - other than his signature smile, let alone cry, but you caught him - even if it was barely

He felt like he was on the edge of pure insanity and psychotic, and he, the almighty Radio Demon, would’ve never expected something so little to give him his final push

After the fight between Adam and Alastor, he had lost his cane, his cane gave him almost every ounce of power and control his soul had gained since entering Hell, and he was going insane without it

You watched Alastor silently drift away from the crowded hotel lobby after Lucifer made some petty comment about losing his staff.

Despite that small part of you trying to convince you against it, you followed him.

You trickled behind him slowly to his room, all the way on the other side of the hotel.

He left his door open a crack, and you opened it slightly and stood in the doorway, and there he was.

Alastor’s usually neat and tidy hotel room was now a disaster with blueprints on the floor, you took a glance at them, some looking relatively old and some looked quite fresh, they were sketches and plans for a new staff - although you knew Alastor no longer had the magic the make it.

You hid as he came into your view, he was pacing the room, a very strained smile present on his face as tears pricked in his eyes, as he ran his fingers through his hair, tossing around blueprints and plans and other papers that seemed to be plans for a new staff, searching for a solution to his despair.

Slowly, you approached Alastor, patting him on the back softly before retracting your hand, remembering he doesn’t like to be touched.

He shook his head and sighed, the same drained smile was still present on his face, he looked down at you, and you never noticed the bags under his eyes until now… I mean, you knew he wasn’t one to typically sleep, but he never had bags before…

“I’m sorry, my dear.” He said, fixing his posture, and straightening up his suit. “One might say I’m a bit distraught at the moment. What is it you need?”

“Well.. uh, Al, you looked a bit sad recently, especially after what Lucifer said about your cane, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said, providing a bashful smile, at the fact that you’d be caught snooping.

“Ah, well, how awfully kind of you, my little doe. Just know, that I’m doing quite alright-” Before Alastor could finish his sentence you engulfed him in a hug, he paused for a moment, before slowly wrapping his arms around the small of your back.

His face was in the crook of your neck, as he sighed, you couldn’t see his face, but you could feel him give a soft smile onto your neck, not a grin, but a smile.

Angel Dust

You knew Angel’s job at the studio was far from easy, and shifts could last several hours at a time, but now? You were starting to worry…

He hadn’t been home in nearly two days. And it was starting to freak you out.

You sat in Angel’s bed in the hotel, snuggled next to Fat Nuggets, he let out a small snort as you cradled him in your arms. “I miss him too, baby.” You muttered, kissing his forehead, tearing up at the thought of all possibilities of what could’ve happened to him.

“Papa will be back home soon.” You nearly whispered, your voice cracking softly, you just wanted to see your boyfriend. The movie that was on in the background began to fade away as you fell to sleep.

You woke up again at about 1am from a slam of the bathroom door that was connected to Angel’s room. You blinked your eyes a few times, groggily, not entirely aware of what was going on until you heard sobbing coming from the bathroom.

You rushed the warm, pink comforter off of you, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed asleep, urgently swinging open the bathroom door, finding Angel wailing, clinging onto the sink, halfway on the floor.

His shirt was off, and a few bruises and scars were visible. He let go of the sink, and slid down the floor, cradling his body.

“Handsome, shit..” You murmured, kneeling down to his level, you put a comforting hand on his knee. “Baby, look at me.”

You requested softly, now using your hand to comb through Angel’s hair, when you didn’t get a response, you used your free hand to tilt his face up to you, and the sight broke you.

His eyes stared into yours, afraid and hurt, there was smeared eyeliner under his eyes that traveled a bit down his face, there was blood coming from his mouth.

You felt tears prick in your eyes, you hated seeing him like this, “My love, can I hold you?”

Angel nodded as his body fell into your arms, you rocked him slowly, shushing his sobs, turning them into a small sniffles.

You pulled away from him to look at him, you wiped the smudged makeup off his face with your thumb, and looked at him. “Wanna talk about it, Angie?”

“You already know the deal by now, it’s just Val..” He said, wiping his eyes, hiccuping before continuing, “I had a rough week, and I wasn’t off-script, and he just said to improv it, and I just fucked it up.. and he, well..” He gestured to the bruises and scars on his body, referencing what happened, giving a dry chuckle, you tensed above him.

“Baby.” You started, cupping his cheeks, pulling him to look at you, “I don’t know how yet, but I will fucking get you out of this, I don’t care who or what I have to go through, but I will fucking get you out of this. No one gets to hurt you and expect to get away with it.” You vowed, as your foreheads connected,

“Sugar, there’s no way out.” Angel murmured. “He’ll find me..” He said barely above a whisper, his voice cracking in fear, your heart ached for him.

“I’ll figure it out, handsome.” You said, pecking his forehead, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Lucifer

You’ve known since before you even started dating that Lucifer had depression, and you knew it hit hard, but you had never really been around to experience that before.

Whenever you could, you always tried to help him out with it, which was a bit hard since he had a tendency to brush it off a lot

It wasn’t until you came home to Luci having a depressive episode where you really got a grip on his depression

You came back to you and Lucifer’s shared home, you had just gotten out of work, and Lucifer was supposed to be at a meeting, key word, supposed to.

As you walked down the hall you heard sniffles coming from your shared bedroom.

You opened the door, it let out a small creak, and you noticed Lucifer curled up on the end of the bed.

There were tissues scattered on the floor on his side of the bed and on his night stand, his clothes that he would’ve worn to his meeting were in a messy pile on the floor, he was in boxers and no shirt, his hair messy, as he sniffled into the pillows, curled up in a thin but fuzzy duck blanket.

“Sweetie, what happened?” You asked sweetly, sitting down next to him at the edge of the bed, rubbing his scalp.

“I-I was gonna go to my m-meeting today, but when I went to get out of bed everything it just felt like I couldn’t do it.. and I started spiraling and I called Charlie and told her to go instead..” Luci explained through sniffles, clutching the blanket closer to his chest.

“Aww, darling.” You cooed lovingly, caressing his cheek, “How about this; I go run a nice, hot bath for the two of us, and then we can cuddle and take a nap, and then try to clean everything up. You can even bring in a few ducks if you want.” Lucifer perked up at your offer, nodding eagerly.

“Okay.” You smiled, chuckling softly, “Just keep your pretty little self here while I go run the water.” You said, getting up to leave, but you turned around as you got to the doorway. “Bubbles or no bubbles?” You asked with a knowing smile.

“…Bubbles, please.”

Velvette had sent you off to go check on Vox, normally he comes out of his security room to check on either her or Valentino, or you, and surprisingly he hadn’t today

You worked for the Vee’s but you were also friends, you were important enough to be basically considered an honorary Vee member, but you were unimportant enough to be cut from big social events and have a fair amount of work dumped on you last minute — And you were an assistant (as well as partner) to Vox

You knocked on the door to Vox’s office room, when no response came from the other side you slowly opened the door, and you saw a very stressed Vox.

His screen was in his hands, letting out small sniffles, but he would glitch here and there as the watery tears shocked his chords.

“Baby, you good?” You asked, standing behind him.

He whipped around, scrambling to wipe away any remaining tears, “Oh- Uh- Yeah- I’m fine.” He muttered, turning back around.

“Were you crying?” You asked, hesitantly, you’d never seen him cry before, other than sex, you both had only been together a few months.

“What? No! I don’t do that shit.” He scoffed, it was clear he was getting defensive, he didn’t like to be caught like this, but he’d rather it be you than someone else.

“Vox…” You pushed, maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did anyway. “Fine. Rough day, okay? Work is stressful as fuck.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, “Do you wanna lay down? Maybe take a nap? And you come back in an hour or two?” You suggested softly, Vox could be stubborn as hell at times, and you weren’t trying to push your luck.

Vox hesitates momentarily, before muttering a small, “I guess…”

794 notes · View notes

yandere-kokeshi · 7 months

Note

May I request Ghost, Nikolai, König, and Alejandro react if their female darling is so touch starved, but she’s been so abused by her family for being ‘too emotional’ or ‘too clingy’? She wants to hug him, but she then shy’s away trembling! Please and thank you!

— Yandere Ghost, Nikolai, König, and Alejandro with an extremely touch-starved female reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about past abuse, and slight mention of murder.

A/N: Definitely my type of troupe, enjoy darling!

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

It breaks his heart, because he can relate. He’s just as touch-starved, his thick scarred-skin and high walls built, was because of his ungodly horrible past. And he wants you to realize that it’s okay to be vulnerable, or even be shy about asking, because he’s the same way with you.

In a sense, Simon is persistent but in a slower way. He starts off easy, watching your reactions to see if you like how he touches you. And then proceeds with more ‘intimate’ touching.

If he sees you a bit down, or worrying that you’re ‘too much’, Simon will undoubtedly pull you into his lap and tell you that you’re nothing like what your parents said. He begs that with his entire life.

Starting off with slow shoulder touching, hands-in-hands, then thigh touching in the car or when you two are sitting down. Before it turns into hands on your hips when you’re both in the shower, his nose being stuck between the area around your neck and shoulder with warm kisses.

He doesn’t mind taking it slow — knowing you well enough to know where your boundaries are, and knowing not to overstep them, even without you explicitly stating them. But Simon does get a bit cocky when he sees you lean deeper into a hug, or shy away when he pecks you on the lips. He smirks, his calloused thumb rubbing over your chin as he guides you back into a deep kiss; mumbling if you want more.

—

Nikolai:

He’s upset — not at you, but at your awful parents. He shakes his head, mumbling in his mother tongue. He looks at you, obviously furious with your so-called ‘parents’. But now, he’s working with his time and energy pointing at you, and making sure to work for your lovely affection.

Nikolai is very forward with his touching, and won’t let you walk away from him. He loves caressing your cheek, and if you turn away from his touch, he caresses the other. And if he sees you shy away, he tenfold his touches. He’s persistent in affecting you, grasping your lower back whilst talking to you, bringing you closer as his fingers pull your hair behind your ear, or give you a deep nose kiss.

Holding your fingers and playfully biting them when he sees you zone out. Or, kissing your forehead, all the way down to your neck before playfully biting, possibly leaving a small mark.

Passionate nips on your neck as you get more heated during a make-out session. Which, he’s vocalized that he adores very much.

Nikolai keeps pushing with his affection. Until you realize, without him actively telling you, that it’s okay to ask or even randomly touch him; as he accepts it with a large pride. It sends tingles down his back thinking of you taking control, and really wants you to be straight with him.

And when you do? Either bringing him into a hug or a touch that’s a start, he doesn’t comment on it. But his heart certainly does; feeling it skip a beat.

—

König:

Immediate anxiety, and wants to solve it fast. He’s visibly upset, fingers fidgeting as he grunts when you mention them — your parents — were the cause of it. He’s serious about protecting you, don’t you know that?

In all, König is upset. He understands what it’s like being touch-starved, stripped from previous experiences and being made fun of. Which, he’ll never ever do that. Instead, encourage you to step out of your rock state and come to him with small touches; even if he views them as ‘embarrassing’.

He focuses all of his time and energy to make you feel comfortable and slowly get out of your shell. He’s done it, or at least trying it, so what’s going to hurt if the two of you work at it together? He does a lot of pinky-holding, squeezing your own pinky when he wants too or simply because he’s sending you a silent ‘I love you’.

Loves laying his head on your lap. And if you feel confident enough to play with his hair, nails digging into his scalp, he’s in heaven. You can hear small breaths that sound like purrs, and he nudges himself closer to your stomach.

He covers you when in the grocery store, small PDA touches with his mask and him leaning over you. He smiles when you smile and nudges you with his cheek.

—

Alejandro “Colonel” Vargas:

Touching you is a big part of how Alejandro communicates, so he will have a bit of a hard time finding alternative ways to be with you. He tries to go soft with you, hands sliding over your curves and pulling you close to him as he nudges his nose into your neck. Easily showing you that he’s not backing off because you’re shy.

Despite his need for affection, Alejandro is persistent in believing that boundaries are more important than anyone, so if you confide in him that you’re not used to receiving this sort of affections, he fully understands; being smug but yet a sweetheart about it when you reveal you’re not used to it.

Much like the others — he’s extremely persistent with you. Hand around your waist, body flushed against his, kisses on the side of the head, and constant squishing with his hands. And being the huge romantic, he loves pulling you into a small kitchen-dance with your shyful state.

He enjoys holding you in the mornings, especially if he has a short break from work. So he takes advantage of that, and if he sees you enjoying it, he smirks. Giving you warm but gentle kisses, hands grasping at your skin and letting you lay directly on top of him.

Alejandro reassures you constantly that you’re not emotional or too clingy, in fact, he’ll openly say that he loves how affectionate you are when you can. That your parents are idiots for saying that, and if he needs to, something will happen to them.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

536 notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 12 days

Text

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #cm #ipromiseyouthis #kiwriteswords #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #aarohotchner #criminalminds #aaron hotchner fanfiction

197 notes · View notes

darylmydix · 23 days

Text

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon - 002

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: sorry if your name isn’t in the taglist and you asked to be. it wouldn’t let me tag some of you.

You lift your hand, blocking out the sun’s gleaming rays as you watch Daryl mutilate an opossum, removing the poor creature's insides. “Can’t you cook it or something?” You scrunch your face in pure disgust.

Daryl scoffs, eyeing you. “This ain't a damn five star restaurant, princess.” He says as he pops a piece into his mouth. “Well I am not eating that.” You shake your head. Daryl shrugs, making no complaints. “More for me.”

Eating dead animals was a cakewalk for someone like Daryl. He’s had to learn how to survive during times like this when his father would kick him out. At least he knew how to hunt and track thanks to the old man. The one good thing the bastard has done for his son.

You observe in silence while Daryl pigged out like he was enjoying a fine dine meal, even going as far as licking his fingers. “I don’t understand how you can eat raw animal guts. Aren’t you afraid of rabies?”

“It’s survival,” he states. “The world could go to shit one day where we ain’t got a choice but to eat crap like this. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The thought of that makes you sick to your stomach. You didn’t even wanna imagine a world where you’d have to tear apart defenseless animals to save yourself from hunger. It just wasn’t in your human nature to hurt anything innocent. “I don’t think I could do that no matter the circumstances.” You admit.

“Then you sure as shit better hope the world don’t ever come to an end. You’d be the first to get taken out.” He jokes, but there’s some seriousness to his words. Compared to Daryl’s hardass exterior, you were as soft as a plush toy.

Two different personalities; but that’s why your friendship seemed to work so well. Daryl needed something delicate in his life to take the brute in him down a peg, and you needed a brute to protect you from what you’re too delicate to protect yourself against.

“Maybe you’re right...” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers, well aware of your fragility.

“Best be lucky ya got me then.” He says, standing up, while wiping his bloody hands on his pants. You look up at him, a smile forming your face. Daryl avoids your gaze, which he often does when he says anything remotely soft or caring to you. It was just the brooding man in him wanting to hide any emotional connection, but you knew he cared about you. And he knew you knew.

“I am lucky I have you.” You say softly. His eyes finally lock with yours for a split second before he simply nods and changes the subject. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.” He holds out his hand for you to take. You bite the inside of your cheek, rejecting the gesture. “I’m not in a rush to go back there.” You glowered.

“I know, but I ain’t tryin’ to get you into trouble again.” Daryl reminds you of the day that not only did you suffer consequences, but he did as well. Last time you avoided going home, you returned only to find cop cars outside of your house and your stepmother pretending to be oh so worried about you.

“Him!” She shouted, pointing to Daryl. “Arrest that inbred thug! He kidnapped my daughter!”

You tried to plead with the officers, telling them that wasn’t true but given the criminal history of the Dixon family it fell upon deaf ears and you had to sadly watch as your best friend was forced into a squad car. Fortunately he didn’t get into much trouble by the police, and was taken home.

His father was another story though.

You sigh, taking his hand and the brunette lifts you off the ground. “For the record, I’m only going because I don’t wanna get you in trouble again.” You inform him. Daryl scoffs. “Yeah whatever.”

“There it is. The house of horrors.” You mumble, staring ahead at the home that no longer brought you joy. “Need me to stick around a bit? Watch over the house?” Daryl suggests, and you look at him with a raised brow. “You’re gonna stakeout my house? What good would that do?” You ask.

“First prick I see walk up there’ll get his ass kicked, that’s what good it’ll do.” He spat. You could feel the anger radiating off of him; you shake your head. “You and Merle got it bad with assault,” Daryl glares at you in response. “If you just a walk up and kick whatever sick fuck comes to my door to get his jollies off then all my stepmom’ll do is call the police and have you arrested for stalking and battery.”

Daryl made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Pigs would be givin’ me a medal if they knew the fuck was goin’ on in there. What those assholes and that bitch was doin’.” He was passionate about your situation, and you appreciated it because you felt the same when it came to him and his own. “Hell am I supposed to do?”

You put your hand on his shoulder, which makes him tense slightly before he’s calm. “Nothing. Like I said, it’s just our reality. Go home, Daryl. Eat a meal better than opossum. For me, please.” You giggle a bit.

“You sure?” He asks.

“That I want you to eat a meal better than opossum? Pretty sure.”

The brunette scowls at your joke. “No. That you want me to go.”

You knew what he meant, but you often deflected questions like that because in the end what you wanted didn’t really matter. Stay or go, your position was all the same. “Yeah. Go home.” You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. “Hey,” Daryl calls out, and you look back at him. “I’ll wait out here for a bit.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one.”

You roll your eyes, turning away once again to walk home. You pull your keys from your sweater pockets as you get to the door, but it was suddenly ripped open with your stepmother standing there eyeing daggers at you. “The hell have you been? I almost had to call the law and report you missing again.”

“I’m an adult now, Sandra...”

“Like I give a damn. Get your dumbass in here.” She pointed inside with her thumb. You sigh, stepping into the house. Your stepmom pokes her head out, noticing Daryl standing there on the sidewalk. “What the hell are you doing by my house, you yokel?” She hissed.

“I was walkin’ her home, somebody’s gotta make sure she’s okay.” Daryl spat back. Your stepmother chuckled. “Well, aren't you quite the gentleman.” She snarked. “Well she’s here now, so why don’t you take your hillbilly ass back to the trailer park where you belong and get the hell away from my property before I call the cops.” She slams the door, getting the last word.

You peer at Daryl through the living room window, mouthing for him to ‘just go’. You could see him struggling within himself with the decision before he heads off. Your stepmother shuts the curtains, glaring at you. “Don’t you ever bring that redneck here again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, holding back tears. “What do you have against him? He is the only thing in this world that I have that cares about me.”

She laughed mockingly. “You think he cares about you? You’re not even worth a damn to care about. The only thing you’re good for, honey, is making me money to keep this damn roof over our head. And if that little bastard isn’t helping support that, then he has no business here. Next time I see him I’ll get a restraining order and make sure he’ll never step foot here again, do you understand?”

You don’t respond, tears now falling down your face. She roughly grabs your arm, digging her nails into your skin. You yelp in pain. “Do you understand?!” She repeats. “Yes!” You cry out. She lets go of you, throwing your arm from her grasp. “Now go shower. We’ve got a guest coming later tonight.”

You quickly rush to your bedroom, slamming the room door shut. You pace around your room, wiping tears from your eyes. You were full of different emotions. Anger, sadness, sorrow, hate, agony. You wanted to just give up on this life. You had no willingness to live.

You open your drawer, digging through your clothes until you find the razor you keep in your drawer. You eye the tiny blade, twisting it around in your finger. ‘It could just end here’. You thought.

But then the sudden flash of Daryl came into your mind.

Like it always does.

You threw the razor atop of your dresser, the unwillingness fading away. “Daryl Dixon the things I do for you.” You mutter to yourself.

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem, @mosstheshoeshoethemoss, @scripteria, @moonlightreader649, @creepumiku, @filmsbyblair, @ginger-haired-queen, @darylsdollie

238 notes · View notes

growling · 4 months

Text

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

#mine #actually autistic #actually npd #actually plural #ableism #sanism #npd stigma #bpd stigma #pluralmisia #<- gonna add on to these later i am. bad at tagging warnings #i needed this off my chest like. can these people stop #dont know how comprehensible this is im bad at articulating myself #long post

288 notes · View notes

gamerwoo · 24 days

Text

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf Masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

General warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, angst, smut, a little humor here and there, werewolf!chan x (werewolf)hunter!reader, alpha!chan, fem!reader, werewolf!skz, violence, blood, guns, torture, mental/physical/emotional abuse, possible major character death (specific warnings will be put on individual parts), minors dni!!!

Authors Note: This is a spin-off series from my Seventeen series: Tales from the Pack. While it can definitely be read by itself, you'll get a better understanding of the universe from reading TftP first, or at least just looking at the TftP Info list at the top of the masterlist. Also, please understand this is a rework of a previous Exo series called Star Crossed.

»»————-　　————-««

Part One: The Intruder in the Bathroom

Part Two: Conflicted

Part Three: Held Captive

Part Four: Closer

Part Five: Walls

Part Six: Scars

Part Seven: Cheers

Part Eight: Seen it Before

Part Nine: Little Talks

Part Ten: Big Steps

Part Eleven: Welcome Home

Part Twelve: Cellmates

Part Thirteen: Weighed Down

Part Fourteen: Executed

Part Fifteen: A Way Out

Part Sixteen: Breathe

Epilogue

#k-labels #stray kids #skz #bang chan #werewolf!bang chan #werewolf!stray kids #werewolf!skz #bang chan au #bang chan series #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #stray kids au #stray kids series #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #skz au #skz series #skz fic #skz x reader

213 notes · View notes

webanglikethat · 2 months

Text

“Gabe wasn’t abusive enough”

as a victim of abuse myself, everyone complaining that Gabe is not ''abusive enough'' makes me SO fucking enraged. just because we don't see sally limping with a black eye while blood is rushing down her face, it does not mean she's not abused. one thing that is extremely important to recognize when it comes to abuse is that abuse can manifest in various forms -> including emotional, psychological, verbal, and financial abuse and even many more. it is not always visible or easily identifiable. abuse leaves scars that aren't always visible to the naked eye. stop pretending it is always black and white.

now to Gabe -> he is financially abusive: he is unemployed and seemingly devoid of any inclination towards responsibility. he shamelessly exploits Sally's hard-earned money and so, her efforts to secure a stable financial future for herself and Percy are callously disregarded as Gabe channels those funds into a destructive vortex of gambling.

-> he is verbally abusive to Percy: he always belittles him, undermining his self-esteem and sense of worth. Percy is barely twelve, living in a world that was not crafted for him, and he is trying to come to terms with that and there is Gabe, taking advantage of that. the psychological impact of Gabe's actions goes beyond mere verbal jabs; it seeps into the very fabric of Percy's self-concept. if you want to believe it or not.

-> he is okay with physical abuse: when Percy mentions he got kicked out for ´´assaulting a girl´´, instead of the expected concern or guidance everyone would expect from a normal person, Gabe's response is a simple yet chilling "okay," delivered with an almost impressed and approving tone. rather than condemning the use of physical force, Gabe's indifferent response basically indicates that he too would be okay with it and that perhaps, Percy's house isn't the safe place he thought it would be. (which we know is true, if you have read the books)

-> he is mentally abusive: HE answered Sally’s phone and spoke to the principal at Yancy. Gabe, ever the puppeteer, attempted //again// to extend his pathetic influence by seeking to control not only the household dynamics but also the very upbringing of Sally's son.

-> coercive control: Gabe is exerting control over the family's mobility by dictating access to the car. by making Sally negotiate, Gabe is asserting dominance and creating an environment where Sally feels compelled to seek his permission for everyday activities.

-> neglect: believe it or not, but failing to provide basic needs, including emotional support, is a form of abuse. Gabe's complete disregard for Percy's well-being is neglectful and abusive. period.

-> and I cannot believe that twelve year old Percy saw the red flags before some of you all -- who are grown adults -- did. Percy's recognition of the subtle manipulation tactics employed by Gabe literally showcase the emotional intelligence and observational skills that children can only develop when navigating difficult circumstances (shoutout to my psychology class).

and also, fuck you. what is abusive enough to you? as a survivor of abuse, I find this idea so fucking deeply troubling. what exactly constitutes 'abusive enough' to you? is it only valid if there's kicking or punching involved? let me be clear: abuse isn't just about physical violence. it is such a complex issue with many facets - emotional manipulation, verbal degradation, financial control, and psychological torment are all forms of abuse that can leave lasting scars. by suggesting Gabe needs to be 'more abusive,' you're unintentionally trivializing the experiences of countless abuse survivors whose abusers never laid a hand on them. this often prevents victims from seeking help. many abuse survivors struggle with self-doubt, wondering if their experiences 'count' because they don't match the extreme portrayals often seen in media. abuse isn't a spicy sauce you can just keep adding to until it burns. it’s not a competition to see who can be the most horrible human being possible. also how exactly are you measuring here? do you have a handy little scale? oh, he only emotionally devastated her today. that’a like, a 3 out of 10 on the abuse-o-meter. needs more punching!' Newsflash: abuse isn't some kind of a spectator sport. it’s not here for your entertainment or to meet your arbitrary standards of 'enough.'

so you know what? I think TV shows need more representation like this. the portrayal of Gabe as an abuser who initially appears harmless and quite stupid aligns with the reality of many abusive relationships because contrary to popular perceptions, abuse doesn't always manifest in blatant physical aggression or explicit threats. more often than not, it takes on subtler forms, such as psychological, emotional, or financial manipulation (as I already mentioned).

and I am so proud that the show chose this narrative path because it sheds light on the less-discussed aspects of abuse. in my opinion, the show proves to be a valuable resource by deviating from conventional tropes in its portrayal. victims often hesitate to seek help when their experiences deviate from the expected narrative, and bystanders may struggle to recognize the more subtle aspects of abuse, perpetuating a culture of silence and impunity for abusers. so good job to the percy jackson directors, you got my respect. <3

#Some of yall need to hear this #Tw abuse #percyjackson #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #pjo #percy series #percy jackson series #percy jackon and the olympians #JB is thinking about pjo

169 notes · View notes

a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 3 months

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Bonus Chapter

I am a simple woman. The people ask for a smut bonus chapter and who am I to deny them. So here, I come to you, bringing nothing but my smutty wares. 5,000 words of pure Azriel smut for your enjoyment.

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

SMUT BELOW MINORS DNI

As you let your hand slide back down Azriel's back, feeling the contours of his muscles through his shirt, his head fell back to rest on your shoulder. You bit your lower lip, letting your eyes take in every feature of his face—his strong jawline, the way his dark lashes framed those intense eyes. Eyes that were now locked on you with an unmistakable desire. His lips slightly parted, breath heavy as he moved one scarred hand to your cheek, brushing away stray hairs that had fallen across your face. His touch was warm, and you couldn't help but lean into it; the rough texture of his calloused fingertips grazing against your soft skin sent shivers down your spine.

You let your eyes close as he pushed the hair behind your ear, your fingers wandering beneath the hem of his shirt to explore the taut muscles of his back. Feeling emboldened, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. As if to reward you for your boldness, he chuckled softly under his breath before leaning in to capture your lips with his own. The sensation of his warm lips against yours was intoxicating—his other hand joined its counterpart on the other side of your face, drawing you in deeper and tighter.

When you finally broke the kiss, both of you gasping for breath, his hands stayed firmly around your face as he whispered fervently, "I love you with everything I have." You leaned in for another kiss—softer this time, a mere peck to satisfy the growing hunger within both of you. As you pulled back, Azriel's eyes lingered closed as if savoring the lingering taste of your lips.

With a gentle smile, you slid your hands from beneath his shirt to tangle them in those silky black curls. You pulled him forward until your lips barely grazed his ear and whispered provocatively, "I want you to earn my trust." The guttural growl that erupted from the back of his throat sent a thrill of anticipation through your body. His hands, once tender, now gripped the edges of the countertop on either side of you, knuckles white with exertion as he pulled back to look at you, eyes darkened by lust.

Azriel gazed up at you from beneath heavy lashes, his head tilting to the side inquisitively. "And what can I do to get you to trust me?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

Your lips trembled with anticipation as you bit down on them, your eyes glinting naughtily. Azriel's gaze was unrelenting, his desire for you evident in the way the countertop strained under his grip. "Seems like a tough decision to make," you purred back at him.

Azriel's hips swayed back and forth as he leaned into the counter, shaking his head and chuckling. He looked up at you through dark lashes as you raised a seductive brow. "Well?" You asked, your voice dripping with allure.

The tip of Azriel's tongue traced the edge of his teeth, causing his lips to part slightly as he studied you, taking in every inch of your body. Rising to his full height, he released his hold on the counter and loomed over you, filling your vision with his powerful frame. A sly smirk tugged at his lips as he spoke. "You are quite complex, my lovely girl."

"And you enjoy unraveling secrets," you countered, a mischievous glint in your eye. "It seems we are evenly matched."

Azriel's smile widened, looking almost sinful as he gazed up at the ceiling before meeting your eyes again. "Are you sure you're ready for what's about to happen?"

In response, he cupped your jaw with one hand and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. His thumb grazed across your lower lip and you couldn't resist kissing it, pulling it between your own lips hungrily. You nodded eagerly, wordlessly conveying your trust in him.

With that confirmation, Azriel pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, eager to explore more exposed skin. As he did so, he effortlessly lifted you from the counter, wrapping his arms securely around your thighs and rear. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, feeling the growing excitement pulsating within his pants. He let out a low, guttural moan as if in response to your touch alone.

As Azriel carried you up the stairs, his lips peppered your skin with soft kisses, igniting a fire within you. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his dark hair, eliciting low groans from him as he pressed his face against your chest. With each step, the anticipation grew, until finally you were in the bedroom, where Azriel laid you down gently on the plush comforter and pillows. As you released your legs from around him, one leg slid up to curve against his body while the other extended out. His fingertips traced intricate patterns on your thigh as he claimed your lips with force. You eagerly gripped onto his hair, pulling and tugging for control, both of you lost in each other's embrace.

Releasing your legs from around his waist, one leg slid up to rest against his body while the other extended out.

Azriel's skilled fingers traced patterns on your thigh as he pressed his lips forcefully against yours, igniting a fire within you. You pulled at his hair for control, but it was clear that both of you were lost in each other's embrace.

With a subtle grind of your hips against his, you could feel his hardening desire for you pressing against your core. Azriel let out a low growl of pleasure as he tangled his fingers in your hair, increasing the pace of his movements.

Your own moans echoed through the room as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, giving him more space to join you. As you did so, Azriel moved onto his knees and settled himself between your legs. His weight pressed down onto your chest and stomach but he balanced himself carefully so as not to crush you completely. With your head resting on soft pillows behind you, your legs once again found their place around Azriel's hips. His hand ran down the length of your thigh, still clothed, to knead at your ass.

One hand left his dark curls and began to explore the hard planes of his chiseled jaw, tracing along the veins in his muscled neck before moving down to his broad shoulders and strong arms. You tugged at the base of his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, greedily eager.

Azriel leaned back on his heels, giving you an unobstructed view of his torso. Your fingers itched to trace every line and curve, but instead they focused on the ties and buttons that kept his bare skin from your gaze.

His scarred fingers replaced your own and deftly worked at the ties and buttons. As Azriel's breath hitched, you allowed your hands to wander lower, skimming over his hardened length. His hips rose to meet your touch, urging you on. You obliged, wrapping your palm around him and massaging up and down as he moaned softly, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, his breaths to come out in labored pants as he struggled to focus on removing his clothing.

Finally, with a frustrated growl, Azriel discarded his garments behind him without a second thought. His wings extended to their full length before crashing back down upon you.

With one arm wrapped around your back, he pulled you into a passionate arch that left your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your hand was trapped between your bodies, but you didn't mind as Azriel's lips left yours and trailed hot kisses down your neck and behind your ear. You couldn't help but pull at his hair, matching the rhythm of your moans. You trailed the other down the center of his back, tracing each muscle with care. His kisses stuttered slightly when you reached the first membrane of his wings, teasingly running a nail along it before following one of the many veins that lay just below the surface.

He shuddered and let out a low growl as you felt his cock twitch again in response to your touch. It was as though you were squeezing him with every stroke of your fingers. His breaths came out labored and tinged with small moans as he gripped at your back for support, unable to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body.

As you opened your eyes, Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of you. His own eyes closed as he fought to control his desire. Your fingers glided over each delicate membrane of his wings, sending shivers down his spine. When your touch trailed down to the base of his wings, he couldn't resist opening his eyes and locking his gaze with yours. "You're such a tease," he growled, unable to tear his eyes away from your seductive smile.

"You look so irresistible when you're like this," he whispered, sitting up and pinning your body underneath his.

With one swift movement, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt and traced a path along the top of your pants, causing you to shudder in pleasure. He watched as you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open. "Do you trust me?" he asked in a hushed voice.

You nodded eagerly, whispering "yes" as your body burned with anticipation.

"Good." He leaned in close, pressing his torso against yours and barely whispering, "Sit up." You obeyed, leaning against the headboard as you reached for your shirt, but he stopped you with a firm hand. "Not yet."

Before you could protest, he silenced you with a finger against your lips, tracing a line down the center as he watched your reaction with hungry eyes. "Trust me," he pleaded.

"I trust you, Azriel," you responded breathlessly.

A shiver ran through your body as you felt something cold and delicate slithering up your arm, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your breath caught in your throat as one of his shadows traced over the new ink that had darkened into your skin, igniting a tingling sensation. It moved up to your neck, leaving a trail of fire behind it, before caressing gently over your face, obscuring your vision. You could feel Azriel's hand in yours, guiding you and calming you with his touch. "Just relax, my love," he murmured in your ear before placing a soft kiss on your hand.

You moaned softly as Azriel's hands returned to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips tracing teasing lines over your skin that made you quiver with anticipation. His voice was low and husky as he whispered, "I want you to trust me me enough to pleasure you in darkness." He shifted slightly, pushing up your shirt to expose more of your body to the cool night air. But before you could protest, his warm lips were pressing into your stomach, sending a jolt of desire through you.

He continued to worship your body with kisses and touches that left you gasping for more. His words were like sweet torture as he reminded you, "If you ever feel uncomfortable or nervous, just say 'blackberry' or tap me twice and I'll stop." But all coherent thoughts flew out of your mind as he pressed another searing kiss onto your skin, slowly making his way up to the base of your ribcage.

As his hands followed the path of his lips, igniting sparks of pleasure within you, he asked again, "Tell me, what are you supposed to do if you feel uncomfortable?" Your response came out as a breathless whimper, "Blackberry...or tap you twice..."

His lips curled up in a devilish smile as he whispered, "Good girl." His words were like a warm caress against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

His lips ghosted over your ribs, barely touching your skin but igniting a fire within you. His hand trailed up to your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples with his fingertips. As you arched into him, he continued to draw circles over them, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He kissed his way up the center of your chest, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin between your breasts.

Suddenly, two more sets of shadows pinned your wrists to the bed. Unable to resist the intense desire coursing through you, you didn't even attempt to fight against them. Azriel's tongue traced every inch of one breast while his fingers expertly pleasured the other. Your nipple hardened under his skilled touch as he rolled it lightly between his fingers. Then, he pressed his mouth against your breast and began sucking gently, pulling it between his teeth and tugging back slightly. The sensation made your legs tremble with pleasure.

Releasing your breast, Azriel moved to give equal attention to the other one. While still kneading and caressing the first breast, he used his tongue and teeth to drive you wild on the other side. Your body writhed beneath him as moans escaped from your parted lips. Between his hands and mouth, you were completely consumed in ecstasy.

Azriel's fingers traced a path down your bare chest, sending shivers through your body. With a firm grip on your wrists, the shadows holding them down dissipated, he raised them above your head, pulling your shirt off in one swift motion. The cool air brushed against your skin, eliciting soft gasps from you. His hands explored every inch of your exposed torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. As he leaned back, his palms glided down your front before his fingers splayed and continued their tantalizing journey. "You are absolutely stunning, my love," he whispered huskily as he drove you wild with desire.

The shadows danced back over your wrists, still pinned above your head as you sunk deeper into the plush pillows, now lying on your back. Azriel’s hands trailed down your body, igniting a delicious shiver as they worked to untie you from your pants. With a soft growl, he tossed your discarded garments aside and repeated the same motion with your underwear.

Azriel's fingers traced up your inner thighs, parting them gently as he whispered in your ear, "You're already so wet for me." His voice sent shivers down your spine as you arched into his touch, craving more. He took in the sight of you spread out before him, admiring every detail as he let out a low growl of desire. His fingers flexed on your knees, holding them apart as he took in every detail of your exposed and eager form. One hand left its place on your knee and you could feel the bed shift slightly as he pleasured himself to the sight of your arousal for him.

"Just a little bit for me," he moaned, his voice deep and husky as the bed rocked to a halt.

His strong hands traced down your inner thighs, causing your muscles to clench in anticipation. But he pushed them back open with ease, his hot breath raking across your dripping wet core. The sensation of his tantalizing fingers dragged up the center between your folds sent shivers down your spine, causing your toes to curl into the sheets.

And when his skilled hand grazed over your swollen clit, you could hardly contain yourself. His other hand slid underneath you, kneading and massaging your rear.

With a low growl, he spread you open even wider, revealing every inch of your glistening core. His index and middle finger teasingly parted you as his thumb circled around your throbbing nub. Your body quivered at his touch, arching towards him in desperation.

"So pretty," he murmured against your skin as you whimpered and tried to get closer to him.

Then, without warning, his mouth was on you, his nose pressing into your sensitive clit, his tongue delving inside and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. You couldn't hold back the moans that escaped as he licked and sucked at you. Finally, he pulled away and positioned himself between your legs, bringing them up over his shoulders as he settled in to devour you completely.

Your arms strained against the shadows that held them in place as your thighs wrapped around his head without thought. He took his hands from your ass, snaking them up your trembling thighs and stomach to your breasts that he once again worked in tandem with your pulsating pussy.

His tongue traced around your clit as though he was a man starved and your core was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten. His tongue flicked over your folds as he took your pulsing nub in his mouth and sucked, causing you to buck against him. He brought a scarred hand back down as he focused his mouth solely on your clit, circling, flicking, sucking and biting as he pushed at your entrance with his fingers, more than he had used before.

You stretched beneath his touch as he pressed into your walls, slowly at first, testing your resistance as you moaned slightly in discomfort but settled into his touch. He then picked up his pace, his fingers moving to their hilt as he bottomed out in you, and then, in the motion he knew would drive you wild, he began curling his fingertips inside of you, seemingly aching and searching for the spot that he knew would have you turning to jelly on his tongue. The mixture of his mouth, his hands kneading your breast, and his fingers dancing inside of you was all too much as you felt your orgasm rising in your stomach, tingling in your toes as your body went numb and exploded with pleasure.

Your mouth fell open, neck craning back as you allowed yourself to finish, almost violently. Azriel continued to work you through it, moaning into your clit, the vibrations sending a second wave of throbbing through your pussy that clenched around the fingers that coaxed moan after moan from you.

His motions slowed slightly as you came down from that high, your breath raspy and catching in your throat while you hissed through your teeth. He slowly dragged his fingers from your core that throbbed against him still, his mouth loosening on you as he leaned his head back, your legs falling open on either side as you struggled to catch your breath.

“My beautiful, pleasure ridden girl.” He murmured to you.

As he straightened, your back arched in response. You could hear the rustling of fabric and the creaking bed as Azriel rose from it. Your body tingled with anticipation as you tested the confines of the shadows that held you down, your skin humming with desire.

“You know,” Azriel's voice dripped with confidence and sensuality, seemingly coming from all corners of the room. “When you first came back to Velaris,” he continued, his voice echoed around you, “I would lie awake at night, thinking about your lips. How delectable they were. How full and warm they looked. And how much I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into your bottom lip and feel you writhe underneath me.” He seemed then to be right next to you now, his voice low and seductive in your ear, “I tried to resist. Tried to ignore how hard my cock would get when I thought about you, about how you would look naked, trembling underneath of me.” He took a step back, his footsteps echoing around the room as he circled you. “And then, that night at the party, and I saw you wearing the necklace, saw you in that dress… I couldn’t control myself anymore. I started imagining how good it would feel to pull that dress up around your hips and fuck you against the wall.” His voice was breathy now, coming from right in front of you, “Hearing you scream my name as I pounded into you, until I filled you with myself.” And then he backed away. “And later, in the shower, while you were getting ready for bed, I pumped my cock to that image. Of your breathless moans as I pushed you towards ecstasy. My nose pressed into your skin, breathing you in as your fingers dug into my back, holding on for dear life as I thrust into you, over and over.” He paused for a moment, "but then, I heard your joyful laughter from the other room, and the sound of it made me lose control completely.” He chuckled slightly, “And it made me come harder than I ever had before".

You whimpered, aching for more of him. "Please."

"Mm," his deep voice rumbled in response, the chair beneath him creaking as he shifted his weight as he sat. You could picture him, naked, casually splayed out across the room. "Say my name, my love."

You moaned out, your core throbbing. “Please, Azriel.”

Breathless and desperate, you repeated his name back to him as he groaned in response. "Yes...just like that."

Your lips formed a silent mantra of his name as you heard the the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room. He was stroking himself from across the room, teasing you both with his throbbing cock.

"Spread your legs for me, baby...let me see you," he whispered huskily.

Without hesitation, you parted your thighs, knowing the fae lights would be glistening on your arousal.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, the sound of his strokes becoming more intense, harder.

"Azriel, please," you whined, craving his touch.

The chair creaked again as he stood and moved towards the bed. And then his body was pressing into yours, his heat enveloping you as he lowered himself onto your body. You felt his cock sliding against your stomach, wet with pre-come.

"What is it, baby girl?" he asked huskily, brushing strands of hair from your flushed face as you arched into him.

"Please...fuck me," you pleaded.

He chuckled darkly. "I used to think about that too," he confessed, his voice thick with desire. "Used to imagine you begging me to pin you down and fuck you."

"Please," you begged again.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against you ear. "Oh, I will, my love," he promised in a husky growl. “But first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then nibbling on your earlobe, before trailing hot kisses down your neck. “I need to hear you say it.”

You whimpered softly, feeling his hot breath against your skin.

He nipped at the sensitive skin near your collarbone. “Say you love me.” He growled, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you eagerly replied, “I love you!”

He chuckled darkly, “Again.”

“I love you,” you gasped more urgently this time as Azriel ran his finger tips teasingly over your nipples.

“Say my name, Y/N.”

“I love you, Azriel.” You moaned out, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You could almost hear his smirk as he gripped your chin firmly and pulled you towards him. “Do you trust me, Y/N?”

“With everything.” You breathed back.

“What do you do if we need to stop?” His tone suddenly shifted to one of seriousness mixed with sensual desire.

“Tap twice or say blackberry.” You gasped out.

He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, tender and full of adoration. “Good girl.” And then he pulled back, causing the bed to shift slightly. “Hands and knees.” He commanded.

The shadows around your wrists dissipated but the darkness swirling around your eyes remained. Blindly, you did as he said and got on all fours, swaying seductively towards him with each movement of your hips.

He let out a throaty chuckle as he rested his hands on your lower back, thumbs running from your spine outwards as he watched you intently. “That ass of yours should be illegal.” He noted, his fingers digging into your flesh.

You let out a giggle and dropped your chest down on the bed, arching your back to present yourself even more provocatively to him.

“Someone's eager.” He teased lightly, swiping a finger through your wetness, eliciting a moan from you.

“Please, Azriel.” You begged. “Anything. I'll do anything. Please, just fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned in response. “You don't know what that does to me.” He shifted slightly, pressing his already slick tip against your entrance. With a gasp, you pushed back against him, begging for more. “Slow down, my love,” he warned. “I need to stretch you first.”

You whined in frustration but couldn't deny the delicious feeling of being filled inch by inch as he slid deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him eagerly. “Please,” you whispered desperately.

Azriel chuckled darkly as he continued his slow and torturous pace, savoring every inch of your tightness as he buried himself deeper inside of you. “Someone is very eager indeed,” he commented with a smirk, his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Azriel bottomed out in you, his pelvis connecting with your ass as he leaned over your body and moaned softly into your ear. “Fuck…” he whispered hoarsely. “It's like you were made for me.”

Azriel's deliberate, slow thrusts sent waves of pleasure through your body. He always did this, took his time to stretch you, to pleasure you. But with your eyes blindfolded, your other senses heightened and you could feel every inch of him inside you. His hand wrapped around your front to tease your clit while his fingers expertly circled it, causing you to arch your back in pleasure. "Azriel," you moaned, desperate for more.

In response, he slowed down even further, drawing out each thrust until you could feel every ridge and curve of him.

"Everything okay, my beautiful girl?" he taunted, knowing full well what you needed.

"I need you to fuck me harder," you begged, gripping onto the sheets as your body craved release. Azriel's pace increased slightly but still not enough for you.

"Harder." You begged, wanting him to take you roughly like never before. And finally, he gave in and pounded into you with such force that your whole body felt consumed by him. His hands gripped onto your hips for support as he continued to slam into you from behind, both of your moans filling the room.

"Say it," Azriel growled in between thrusts, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"I love you, Azriel!" you cried out as his pace became almost unbearable, taking you to the brink of climax.

As the words "I love you" dripped off of Azriel's lips, you could feel your body reacting to his touch. Every caress sent shivers down your spine and you were consumed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if time stood still and there was only him, chanting your name like a prayer and responding with incoherent declarations of love. Just when you thought the pleasure couldn't get any better, he abruptly withdrew leaving the bed shaking beneath you. Your moans turned into cries as you felt him leave the bed. But it was only a moment before he returned, standing in front of you. In that moment, the shadow that had been obstructing your view fled. He leaned down and his hands found their way to your face, gently wiping away tears of ecstasy that overflowed. "My beautiful, wonderful, lovely girl," he whispered, his hazel eyes tracing every inch of your face before slowly kissing you.

The taste of him mixed with your own arousal was intoxicating. His eyes locked onto yours as he spoke again, "I want you to watch me come inside of you." Your heart raced at his words and you eagerly nodded in agreement. "Lay back," he commanded and you complied without hesitation. His hips were level with the side of the bed as he positioned himself between your legs, gripping onto your hips tightly. "Keep your eyes on me," he urged and as soon as your eyes met his, he pushed himself back inside you. Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as he filled you completely once again. With each thrust, you felt yourself losing control, your screams echoing through the room as his pace quickened. He pressed kisses into your calves before locking eyes with you once more, a devilish grin spreading across his face. His grip tightened on your thighs as he leaned forward and began pounding mercilessly into you once more. You could feel yourself getting closer to climax, a familiar numbness creeping up from your toes.

"Look at me, baby," Azriel reminded you as you locked eyes with him. Your walls tightened around him as you moaned his name, feeling your pleasure continue to build. "Good girl," he whispered, his pace becoming more frenzied. Your screams filled the room as he hit that special spot within you that sent tingles through your entire body, slowly numbing your feet and causing your head to swim. "Y/N, keep your eyes on me" he urged, and as you did - as you locked eyes with that gorgeous male who was all yours - you felt yourself falling over the edge. Your inner walls clenched tightly around his throbbing cock as you came, his thrusts becoming more erratic and rushed. "Good girl, baby," he murmured in your ear. "Keep taking it...cum for me."

You watched Azriel’s eyes roll back as he struggled to maintain his focus. “Fuck…” he hissed out, and then you felt him groan and shudder as he released deep inside of you, his hot seed spilling into you as he continued to fuck you through his own orgasm. His moans and growls were like music to your ears. His final thrusts were sloppy, but satisfying as he whispered praises into your ear before finally collapsing onto you.

He leaned his head up, your fingers lazily running through his hair, slick with sweat. He smiled, panting, a satisfied smirk on his face. “I love you,” he whispered.

Readers, love y'all, consider it a gift:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardust @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes @weepingwerewolf @that-one-bibliophole

189 notes · View notes

eunseoksimp · 2 months

Text

Entangled; Jung Sungchan

made this on a whim after an excessive amount of listens to house of balloons by the weekend.

Pairings: Boxer!Jung Sungchan x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre: angst

Description: the relationship between you and sungchan is a tumultuous storm, a volatile mix of passion and pain, bound by an intense love that is as toxic as it is profound. sungchan, an underground fighter, using the ring as an outlet for his inner demons and you, clinging to him as you seek solace from your own unhealed wounds. two broken pieces clinging to each other in a toxic dance of dependency and desperation.

Warning: use of swear words, brief mention of substance abuse and alcoholism.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

sungchan shows up at your house, eyes bloodshot, knuckles bruised, and that signature smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter despite the chaos it signified. but now it only brings a sigh to your lips. you sigh, not even wanting to know what kind of trouble he got into this time, simply opening the door wider, allowing him to lean into your side as you guide him into your dimly lit apartment. the weight of his body against yours feels both familiar and burdensome, like an old, tattered blanket that you can’t seem to discard.

you sway all the way into your bedroom, his weight heavy against you until you stumble into your bedroom. he looks at you for a second, as if trying to see if you would allow him to jump onto your bed the way he is. his gaze is a silent question, but he knows how much you hate outside clothes touching your covers. with a shake of your head and the best shot of a disapproving look, he clicks his tongue but nevertheless shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders, obeying your rules. his jacket lands on the floor with a soft thud, a harbinger of the troubles he brought with him.

you watch as he clicks the clasp off his watch, slipping it off his wrist in one swift move and placing it on your dressing table. there's a practiced grace in his movements, a dance you've witnessed countless times. he reaches one hand from behind him to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, ruffling his hair before it’s discarded on the floor. you’ve seen him many times in this state, his top always coming off first because he knew you liked to peek at his muscles. his body, a canvas of old scars and fresh bruises that littered the expanse of his back, speaks of a history written in pain and conflict.

‘want me to give you a little strip show?’ he teases, fingers brushing against the buckle of his belt, his eyebrow quirking up before he relaxes it. his voice, tinged with a playful mockery, is an echo of better days when his teasing would have made you laugh. now, it only deepens the chasm of despair between you.

‘hurry up and get into bed. It’s cold,’ you reply, your voice betraying a weariness that matches the dim light of the room. the cold isn’t just physical; it’s an ever-present chill in the air, a manifestation of the emotional void that has grown between you.

he obeys, giving you a two-fingered salute and a boyish grin before unbuckling his belt and slipping out of his jeans, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. his body, though battered, still carries an allure that tugs at your heartstrings. you turn away, not wanting to let your gaze linger too long on the marks of his latest escapade, the reminders of a life he refuses to abandon.

sliding under the covers, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with a desperate intensity. you nestle into his chest, inhaling the scent of sweat and faint cologne, a mixture that has become a bittersweet comfort. his heartbeat, steady but troubled, is a metronome to the silent symphony of your shared sorrow.

you both lie there, staring at the ceiling, the dim light casting shadows that dance around the room like ghosts of your past. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you closer. you can feel the tension in his body, the unspoken pain he's trying to hide.

‘rough night?’ you ask softly, your fingers tracing the contours of his bruised knuckles.

‘you could say that,’ he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. ‘but it’s better now. i’m here with you.’

you close your eyes, wanting to believe his words, to find solace in the illusion that everything is normal. but the truth is inescapable: you are both prisoners of a toxic love, bound together by pain and passion. his presence, once a source of joy, has become a reminder of the endless cycle of hurt and reconciliation.

it was impossible, for two broken people to try and mend each other’s hearts, and yet here you both were. sungchan engaged with underground boxing to keep his demons at bay, to control the anger that burned deep inside him to the ring alone. and you continued to be with a man whose habits of danger and thrill-seeking often left you in sorrow, the possessiveness he felt over you seeming like love due to the poor examples of it you had as a model.

‘ i wish you’d stop doing this to yourself,’ you whisper, your voice breaking. ‘to us.’

he sighs, a sound heavy with resignation. he doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if holding on to you can keep him from falling apart.

‘i can’t change who i am. and you... you can’t seem to let go of me, even though you know it’s killing you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter truth that neither of you can deny. you cling to each other, seeking warmth in the cold emptiness of your relationship. you stay because you can’t let go, because the pain has become a part of you, a twisted proof of your connection.

his hands, rough and calloused, move gently over your back, a gesture that once brought comfort but now feels like a plea for forgiveness. you shift slightly, turning to face him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask he wears slips away. you see the vulnerability, the hurt, and the longing. it’s a mirror of your own soul, reflecting back all the things you’ve tried to hide.

‘maybe we’re just broken,’ you say, your voice barely audible. ‘maybe this is all we deserve.’

sungchan tightens his grip on you, as if trying to hold together the fragile pieces of your shattered love.

‘maybe. but i’d rather be broken with you than whole without you,’ he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as his voice slightly cracks.

tears sting your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you both carry. his words, though meant to be comforting, only deepen the wound. you lie there in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, each inhale and exhale a reminder of the life you’ve built on a foundation of hurt.

he pulls you closer and there’s a desperate hunger in his kiss, a need to reassure both of you that this is real, that this is worth the pain. his lips are rough against yours, his hands clutching at you like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. you respond with equal fervor, pouring all your confusion and heartache into the kiss, hoping to find some semblance of solace.

but the solace never comes. instead, you’re left with a hollow ache, a reminder of how broken you both are. you pull away, breathless, and bury your face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. it’s a rhythm you’ve come to rely on, a reminder that despite everything, you’re still here, still together.

in the quiet of the night, the apartment feels like a mausoleum, a resting place for the ghosts of your past. the dim light casts shadows on the walls, flickering images of the dreams you once shared, now distorted by the harsh reality of your love. the bed, once a sanctuary, has become a battleground where you both fight to hold on to something that is slipping away.

‘i love you,’ he whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts, his voice filled with a desperate sincerity. it’s a declaration that should bring joy, but instead, it feels like a dagger to your heart.

‘i love you too,’ you reply, the words tasting of ash. love, for you both, has become synonymous with pain, a beautiful lie that you can’t help but cling to.

sungchan’s voice, when he speaks again, was filled with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and affection. ‘we’re a mess, aren’t we?’ he said with a rueful chuckle, the sound tinged with a sadness that mirrored the shadows on the walls.

‘yeah,’ you agreed, a sad smile playing on your lips. but we’re our mess.’ your words hung in the air, a delicate thread of understanding that connected you both in your shared chaos.

he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his internal battles, and pulled you closer. ‘i don’t know what I’d do without you,’he confessed, his voice cracking with vulnerability.

‘you’d survive,’ you said softly, your voice a gentle balm to his wounded soul. ‘you always do.’ you traced the lines of his face with your fingers, each touch a silent vow of your love and commitment.

‘but I don’t want to just survive,’ he replied, his voice filled with a longing that tugged at your heart. ‘i want to live, to really live, and I don’t know how to do that without you.’

You don’t know how to respond to that. Instead, you just hold him tighter, as if that could somehow make everything better. But deep down, you both know it won’t. You’re stuck in a cycle of love and pain, unable to break free but unwilling to let go.

as the night stretches on, you drift into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of what could have been. in your dreams, you see a life where love doesn’t hurt, where his eyes aren’t bloodshot and his knuckles aren’t bruised. but when you wake, the reality is unyielding, a stark reminder that you are trapped in a cycle of your own making.

morning comes, casting a pale light over the room and you watch as the sun slowly rises, bringing with it a new day. but there’s no sense of renewal, no promise of a fresh start. it’s just another day in the endless cycle you’ve found yourselves trapped in.

he stirs beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you watch as he sits up, his back to you, the weight of his actions evident in the slump of his shoulders.

‘i’m sorry,’ he says, finally breaking the silence, not turning to look at you. the words, though heartfelt, feel like a cruel joke. sorry isn’t enough to heal the wounds, to erase the nights of pain and the days of longing.

‘i know,” you reply, your voice devoid of emotion. it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times, each one a repetition of the same hollow promises.

he stands, reaching for his discarded clothes, the bed feeling colder and emptier without him, ironically mirroring the effect he seemed to have on your life. you watch in silence as he dresses, the familiar routine a painful reminder of the transient nature of your moments together. when he’s fully clothed, he turns to you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

‘will you be okay?’ he asks, the question heavy with unspoken fears.

‘i always am,’ you lie, forcing a smile. it's a lie you both choose to believe because the truth is too painful to face.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘i’ll be back tonight.’

you nod, knowing that the cycle will continue, that tonight will bring the same mix of joy and despair. as he leaves, the apartment feels even colder, the silence a deafening reminder of your solitude.

you sit there for a long time, staring at the door he walked through, wondering if there will ever come a day when you can let go. the love you share is a beautiful poison, one that you can’t seem to quit, even though you know it’s slowly killing you both. the echoes of your conversations linger in the air, a haunting reminder of the love and pain you share.

you finally get up, moving through the motions of your morning routine. but everything feels hollow, your heart heavy with the weight of your relationship. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, seeing the tired eyes and the lines of worry etched into your face.

you think about the love you have for him, the way it consumes you. it’s a love that’s both beautiful and destructive, a force that binds you together even as it tears you apart. you wonder if things will ever change, if you’ll ever find the strength to let go.

but for now, you’re stuck in this endless loop, holding on to each other because the alternative is too terrifying to consider. you find a twisted comfort in the pain, a sense of normalcy in the chaos. it’s not healthy, but it’s all you’ve ever known.

you go about your day, trying to push the thoughts of him to the back of your mind. but he’s always there, a constant presence in your heart and mind. you can’t escape him, can’t escape the love you have for him, no matter how much it hurts.

as the day turns to night, you find yourself back in your apartment, the loneliness weighing heavily on you. you lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside you, waiting for him to come back to you, just like he promised. you know he’ll be back, that you’ll repeat the same cycle again. and despite everything, you find a strange comfort in that.

the living room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of a lone lamp, casting elongated shadows that stretch and wane across the walls. the clock on the mantle ticks away, each second echoing through the silence, a metronome marking the passage of time. you sit on the edge of the couch, a book in hand, its pages unread as your eyes repeatedly drift to the front door. the weight of anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a tangible presence that presses down on your chest.

outside, the night is alive with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. it contrasts starkly with the oppressive quiet of the apartment, where the silence seems almost accusatory, reminding you of the countless nights spent in similar fashion. your phone lies beside you on the coffee table, screen dark and unbothered by any messages or calls. you don't bother picking it up to check; you already know.

the hours pass slowly, each one a reminder of your solitude, and yet he doesn’t return. it used to make your heart leap, bad thoughts circling your mind as you think about all the terrible situations he might have gotten in to. but you knew him too well now. you knew all too well that it just meant he was engaging in another night of his hedonistic pleasures, probably because he won his fight, surrounded by alcohol and loud music whilst consuming substances that he knew wasn’t good for him.

it wasn’t that you thought he would cheat, in fact that was the least of your worries. it was all just unhealthy, being wrapped up in a life of substance-fueled debauchery and distractions, a cry for help and it brings a bitter taste to your mouth. you’ve been here before, and the script always plays out the same.

you glance at the clock again—11:30 pm. each minute feels like an hour, and the realization slowly settles over you like a cold, damp blanket. he’s not coming home tonight. the knowledge seeps into your bones, a familiar ache that you've grown accustomed to. there's no anger left, no fiery resentment. just a dull, throbbing disappointment that pulses in rhythm with your heartbeat.

with a heavy sigh, you rise from the couch. the room feels larger in his absence, the silence more pronounced. you make your way to the bedroom, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound accompanying you.

you slip under the covers, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth you long for. the ceiling stares back at you, an expanse of darkness dotted with the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. memories of happier times flood your mind, unbidden and unwelcomed as you try to push them away, focusing instead on the present, on the reality of your situation.

the phone remains silent on the nightstand but you don’t reach for it. there’s no point. instead, you close your eyes, willing sleep to come and take you away from the disappointment, if only for a few hours.

you finally drift off to sleep, your dreams filled with images of him. in your dreams, things are different. there’s no pain, no conflict. just love, pure and simple.but dreams are just that – dreams. the reality is much harsher, much more complicated. you wake up to the same emptiness, the same ache in your heart and you know that nothing will change, that you’re trapped in this toxic dance with no end in sight.

the next night arrives, and with it, the familiar sound of a brisk knock on the door. you know who it is as you fiddle with your locks; sungchan, with bloodshot eyes and bruised knuckles, his signature smile plastered across his face and you feel the familiar pull in your chest. he’s your addiction, the one thing you can’t quit even though you know it’s destroying you. he steps into your embrace, and for a moment, you forget the pain, lose yourself in the illusion of love.

but deep down, you know that this isn’t sustainable, that one day the weight of your combined sorrows will crush you both. until then, you continue to cling to each other, finding fleeting moments of solace in the midst of your shared suffering.

the smell of alcohol wafts in with him, mingling with the night air, and you know immediately that he’s drunk. his steps are unsteady, yet his grin is wide, a mask that hides the weariness and turmoil beneath.

‘i’m sorry about last night,’ he slurs, leaning heavily against the doorframe and you’re pulled back into your reality.

‘got caught up in the moment. the partying, the fun... i didn’t want to disturb you, you hate when i drink, but i’m really trying.’

you stand there, feeling the weight of his words press down on you, each one a reminder of the empty hours you spent waiting. but anger is a luxury you can't afford anymore. instead, you focus on the task at hand, channeling your energy into taking care of him.

with gentle hands you guide him to your bathroom, peeling off the heavy leather jacket that clings to him, the one he cherishes so much. it smells of smoke and sweat, a testament to the night he’s had. next, you work on his jeans, the ones he wears like a second skin, stained and frayed from countless nights like these.

he tries to kiss you, his breath hot and sour against your cheek and his arms, though unsteady, reach for you, seeking solace in your embrace. but you turn your head, dodging his attempts at affection. each dodge feels like a small betrayal to your heart, which still beats for him despite everything. resentment tugs at your heartstrings, a discordant melody that drowns out the love you still feel. why couldn’t he be a normal boyfriend? someone who showed up when he promised, who took you out more, who came home more. someone who didn’t burden you with the weight of his absences and the chaos he brought with him.

‘let’s get you to bed,’ you murmur after helping him wash up and change into new clothes, hoping that sleep would sober him up as you take his hand and lead him to your room. he stumbles along, his laughter a hollow echo in the small space. you keep your touch gentle but firm, your heart a fortress against the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

once he’s settled under the covers, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching him. his eyes flutter closed, a sigh escaping his lips, the bruises on his knuckles standing out starkly against his pale skin, a silent testament to the battles he fights, both inside and out. you reach out, your fingers brushing against the bruises, feeling the rough texture of broken skin.

the words you long to say choke you, each one a thorn you bury deep within. you love him—god, how you love him—but you’re tired. tired of the waiting, of the disappointment, of the endless cycle of highs and lows. you swallow hard, pushing the bitterness down, burying it beneath layers of resignation and care.

he mumbles something incoherent, his hand reaching out to find yours. you let him take it, feeling the warmth of his grip, the way his fingers curl around yours. in this moment, despite everything, you still find a small piece of solace. because even though he’s broken, and even though he breaks you a little more each time, you still love him. and that love, for now, is enough to keep you here.

as the night wears on, you lie in bed together, his arms around you, your heart is heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled wishes, holding on to the fragile hope that somehow, love will be enough to save you. but in the silence, you both know the truth: love, in its purest form, is supposed to heal, not hurt. and yet, you choose to remain, bound by a toxic devotion that neither of you can escape.

in the end, the saddest part isn’t the pain or the bruises or the tears. it’s the realization that you’ve mistaken suffering for love, that you’ve built a life on a foundation of hurt. and as you drift into another restless sleep, you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a day when you can truly let go.

you can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a time when he chooses you over the chaos.

morning light filters through the thin curtains, casting a soft, muted glow across the room. you wake up first, as always, lying in silent resignation as you watch sungchan sleep. his face is a picture of peace, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. you trace the contours of his face with your eyes, noting the faint lines of exhaustion and the bruises that mar his knuckles. there’s a fleeting moment of tenderness as you remember why you fell in love with him, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the weight of disappointment.

eventually, he stirs, eyes fluttering open, confusion swimming in his irises. his gaze darts around the room until recognition dawns, and you see the realization settle in. he doesn’t remember much, but he knows he messed up. T

the room is enveloped in a heavy silence, the kind that presses down on you, making it hard to breathe. you both look at each other, hearts too heavy to speak. he knows you’re tired of his apologies, and you’re tired of demanding them. the unspoken understanding hangs between you, thick and suffocating.

guilt gnaws at him, and you watch as he chews on his chapped bottom lip, a habit that betrays his inner turmoil. you furiously pick at the dead skin around your nails, needing a distraction, something to focus on other than the pain in your heart.

‘i’m—” he starts, his voice cracking.

‘don’t,’ you cut him off, your voice low but firm. ‘just don’t.’

he looks down, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his actions settles over him. ‘i’m sorry,’ he whispers, unable to stop himself.

your jaw tightens, and you shake your head, slipping out from under the covers, the floor cold against your bare feet as you make your way to the living room, the weight of his gaze following you. he scrambles after you, pathetically, desperately trying to make amends with gestures instead of words. he hugs you from behind, his arms wrapping around you with a familiar warmth, and places a kiss on the crown of your head. the tenderness of the moment is almost painful, a reminder of what you once had and what’s slowly slipping away.

‘please,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice thick with regret. ‘i’ll do better. i promise.”

‘you always promise,’ you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you step out of his arms. ‘but nothing changes.’

he disappears into the bedroom with a sigh, leaving you standing there, a storm of emotions swirling within you. when he re-emerges, he’s wearing some of his old clothes he must have found in your cupboard. the sight of him in those familiar clothes stirs something in you, a bittersweet ache that tugs at your heart.

‘can we at least talk about it later?’ he asks, his eyes pleading, drawing close to you again, littering you with kisses down your neck.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. the words you want to say are lodged in your throat, too painful to voice. ‘fine,’ you manage to get out.

‘we’ll talk later, i promise we will,’ he says again, the words hanging in the air like a promise and a burden. then with one more kiss to your cheek, and a lingering look filled with pleading he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

you stand in the middle of the living room, feeling the emptiness settle around you. the silence is deafening, filled with all the things you wish you could say but can’t. you sink into the couch, pulling a blanket around you as if it could shield you from the reality of your situation. the ache in your heart is a constant, a reminder of the struggle between your love for him and the pain he causes you. and as the morning light grows brighter, you can't help but wonder how many more mornings like this you can endure before you break.

the cycle continues, the pain and the love intertwined in a never-ending dance. and you hold on, because it’s all you know, because letting go is too terrifying to consider.

you find yourselves in each other’s arms, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your pain. you whisper words of love and apology, trying to mend the broken pieces of your hearts. but it’s never enough. the wounds run too deep, the scars too numerous.

as the days turn into weeks, then months, the pattern remains unchanged. you both cling to each other, desperate and afraid, but unable to break free. the world outside your apartment moves on, but inside, time stands still. each day blurs into the next, a monotonous loop of fleeting highs and devastating lows.

one particularly stormy evening, as you sit alone in your apartment, the rain beating against the windows like a relentless drum, the stormy night outside mirrors the turmoil inside your heart. you hear a knock at the door and your heart leaps in your chest, a mixture of dread and anticipation coursing through your veins. you already know who it is before you even open the door.

he stands there, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and that familiar, weary smile on his lips. his eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s a fresh cut above his eyebrow. you don’t ask what happened; you stopped asking a long time ago. instead, you step aside, letting him in, the warmth of your apartment a stark contrast to the cold, wet world outside.

you lead him to the bedroom, your hands gently guiding him, and he follows without protest. the routine is familiar, almost comforting in its predictability. he sheds his wet clothes, the fabric pooling on the floor like the remnants of a forgotten promise and you hand him a towel, watching as he dries off and slips into a pair of sweatpants.

his bare feet pad softly on the carpet as he approaches the bed, a vulnerable warrior seeking solace. you pull back the covers, and he slips beneath them, the warmth of his body mingling with yours. the familiar scent of him, a mix of cologne, sweat, and something uniquely his, envelops you. you lie side by side, the silence between you thick, a palpable presence that neither of you can ignore.

you reach out, your fingers tracing the bruises on his knuckles, each one a dark bloom of pain. he winces slightly but doesn’t pull away, letting you touch the evidence of his inner demons. you know his battles are as much with himself as they are with the world outside.

‘i wish things could be different,’ you say, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

‘so do i. i wish i was a better person, for you,’he replies, his breath warm against your neck.

but wishing is not enough, you both know that. the cycle will continue, a never-ending loop of love and pain, of passion and despair. you are both prisoners of your own making, trapped in a love that is as toxic as it is intoxicating.

‘you don’t have to do this,” you say after a while, your heart aching with a mixture of love and frustration. ‘you don’t have to fight. you don’t have to drown your problems with alcohol or burn all of your battles.’

he turns his head to look at you, his eyes dark and stormy. ‘and what about you? you think I don’t see the hurt in your eyes? we’re both fighting, in our own ways.’

you close your eyes, the truth of his words cutting deep. you’re both prisoners of this toxic dance, unwilling to let go even as it tears you apart. love, you’ve come to believe, is supposed to hurt. the illusion that everything is normal, that this is how it’s meant to be, is a comforting lie you both cling to.

‘i hate seeing you like this,’ you admit, your voice trembling.

he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. ‘i hate it too,’ he says softly, his thumb brushing away a tear. ‘but I can’t stop. and neither can you.’

the words hang in the air, a bitter acknowledgment of your shared fate. he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that is both tender and desperate, a silent plea for connection amidst the chaos. you respond, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss deepens, a fiery exchange that speaks of longing and regret, of passion and pain.

you break apart, breathless and trembling. ‘stay,’ you whisper, your voice a fragile thread.

‘ i will,’ he replies, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that borders on obsession. ‘i always do.’

the storm outside rages on, mirroring the tempest within your souls. you know this is a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of peace in a sea of turmoil. but for now, it is enough.

the wind howls through the cracks in the windows, a mournful song that underscores the fragility of your peace. you hold each other tighter, as if by sheer force of will you can keep the storm at bay. his breath is warm against your neck, a stark contrast to the cold dread that gnaws at your heart. you can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, a rhythmic reminder of the life you’ve built together, even as it threatens to crumble.

in the quiet moments, between the whispers and the kisses, you catch glimpses of the man you fell in love with—the man who makes you laugh, who holds you when you cry, who promises you the world even as he stumbles through his own battles. those glimpses are what keep you tethered, what make the pain bearable. they are the fleeting moments of sunlight breaking through the storm clouds, offering a ray of hope that things might one day be different.

but as dawn approaches, the reality of your situation settles back in. the night has given you a reprieve, but the problems remain, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the light of day to bring them back into sharp focus. you know that the cycle will continue, that the highs will be followed by lows, that the love you share will be tested time and again.

the first light of morning seeps through the curtains and you know the illusion is about to shatter. he will leave again, drawn back to the battles he fights, and you will remain, your heart aching with the emptiness his absence leaves behind.

he turns to you, his expression unreadable. ‘take care,’ his words are a hollow echo of what you both wish could be.

‘you too,’ you reply, your voice thick with unshed tears.

he leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click and you lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your reality pressing down on you. the silence is deafening, the emptiness a stark reminder of the void in your heart.

because in this twisted dance of love and pain, you have found a perverse sense of belonging. you have convinced yourself that this is what love is meant to be, that the hurt is a necessary part of the equation. and as long as he keeps coming back, you will continue to believe the lie.

for now, you cling to the moments of tenderness, the fleeting glimpses of happiness that punctuate the darkness. you tell yourself that it is enough, that this is all you deserve. when you lie alone in the dim light of your bedroom, you whisper a silent prayer to a god you no longer believe in, hoping for a miracle that will never come.

the pattern of your lives becomes a relentless cycle, a vicious circle you cannot break free from. each time he leaves, the void he leaves behind grows deeper, the ache in your heart more pronounced. and yet, when he returns, battered and broken, you welcome him with open arms, unable to resist the pull he has over you.

155 notes · View notes