#(and beauty doesn’t make me feel human. not at all. especially not while I feel like I might as well be rotting

[mildlyalarming33]

Queer And Trans Exposure In The Media

i think this is one of my better ones !!

When I think about the importance of queer and trans exposure in the media, I think about all the times I spent searching—without even knowing what I was looking for. I didn’t have the words yet for what I was feeling, but I knew the world I saw on TV, in movies, in books… it didn’t have a place for someone like me. If queer and trans people were shown at all, they were usually suffering, being laughed at, or living lives that ended in tragedy. That sends a quiet, painful message: You are other. You don’t fit. You don’t get a happy ending.

That’s why real, honest queer and trans representation matters so much. It’s more than a rainbow flag in the background of a scene or a one-off “coming out” episode. It’s about telling full, complex, human stories where queer and trans people are allowed to be messy, joyful, loving, scared, ambitious — all the things that make us real. It’s about seeing someone like you survive, thrive, and simply exist without apology. That kind of visibility has the power to heal wounds we didn’t even realize we had.

For young people especially, this kind of representation can be lifesaving. When you're trying to understand yourself in a world that often tells you you're wrong just for being who you are, seeing someone like you reflected in a story can feel like a light in the dark. It says, You are not alone. You are possible. It gives you something to hold onto when everything else feels shaky. And honestly, even as an adult, that kind of representation still means everything. Every time I see a queer or trans character portrayed with love and depth, it reminds me that I’m not invisible — that my existence isn’t just tolerated, it’s celebrated.

But the impact doesn’t stop with queer and trans people. Media shapes culture. It teaches people who might never meet someone like me in real life what it means to be queer or trans. When representation is thoughtful and authentic, it chips away at ignorance and fear. It opens the door to empathy. It creates space for real conversations, real understanding. And story by story, it helps build a world that is kinder, more accepting, and more real.

I’m not transgender, so I can’t speak for that community — but I can speak as someone in the LGBTQ+ community, as a queer person, and as someone who has close friends and family who are trans or questioning. We need this representation. Without it, we risk heightening prejudice, ignorance, and hate. I’m lucky — I live in Australia, so I’m not directly affected by Trump’s bigoted policies and rhetoric. But I see what’s happening. I see the videos on my socials — people being denied trans healthcare, people’s genders being forcibly changed on their birth certificates, people being openly hate-crimed in America. And while it might not affect me directly, it still hurts. It still sends a message to all of us.

Because at the end of the day, exposure matters — because stories matter. Stories are how we make sense of the world, and everyone deserves to see pieces of themselves in the stories we tell. Queer and trans people have always been here — loving, creating, dreaming, living. We deserve to see that reflected back at us — not as a rare exception, but as a natural, beautiful part of the human experience.

We are not new. We are not mistakes. We are not trends or phases or afterthoughts.

We are real. We are beautiful. We are here.

And we always have been.

[void-tiger]

I don’t know how to not either mold myself into a shape that makes it easier for others to stay, or let myself slip through a drain discarded instead.

[cheetabites]

☆彡 peppers pt 2 ˳༄꠶

character: hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for the frontman

sfw headcannons

★ as he proceeded as the front man, he acquired a fascination with betrayal within the games. it basically reinforced the belief that humanity would always choose the best for themselves despite the sacrifice of others, and deep down i think he gets off by watching the players kill each other

★ in some way he feels a bit bad for the players who vote to go home. he’s seen the process over and over again and knows that greed outweighs self-sufficiency and compassion for others; for him, these deaths aren’t as enjoyable to watch

★ he hates others that victimize themselves. it leaves him both simultaneously angry and stressed, because what do you mean you’re upset with the situation you got yourself into?

★ when he’s not in the games (as a player), the hierarchy and rules that he has for the staff is much stricter. he doesn’t allow barbarity; like guards threatening each other, fighting, or attempting to take advantage of another person. while he chooses to take players in and make them fight to win, he still has a moral compass

★ he HATES the vips. for him, sure he gets enjoyment of watching the games but he’s never found the need to bet on the players; if anything this further pushes the idea that humanity has lost it. because while others may view him continuing the game as psychopathic, he views it as demonstration to people

nsfw headcannons

★ as the frontman, he doesn’t really have someone that can please him. most of the time when he’s pent up, he’ll just use his hand and his imagination to get off

★ as the frontman, he likes to keep his sexual activities in private. but as a player, since he believes he has some sort of superiority over the others he wouldn’t mind fucking in public; not obnoxiously of course, but with the confidence, courage and no shame. late night sex with him would be so good, but since gi-hun suggests watch shifts it would be harder to actually participate in it (season 2 bathroom scene w/ the frontman when?!)

★ he doesn’t really like watching you ride him. he believes it gives you too much control. he wants to have all control over your pleasure; like whether or not you cum, how many times you cum, ect

★ he’d definitely make a sex tape with you if you were okay with it - but only when he’s not playing the games, so either after the revolt or if he’d never entered the games altogether. he’s the type to burn your sex tape on dvd’s. watching them on a video recorder or a mobile device is too tacky for him

★ he likes it when you whine for him; especially if you’re shy in bed. he’d go all gentle in the beginning, saying stuff like “come on sweetheart, you gotta tell me what you want” and “look at my beautiful sweetheart, so needy for me.” and when he’s finally inside you, he does degrade you, but it’s usually a mix of both praise and degradation

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as things that go bump in the night

So what if he’s not human?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Contains: Monsterfucking. Dubcon. Unprotected piv sex in Dick’s, Jason’s, and Damian’s. Blood in Bruce’s. Somnophilia and light breeding kink in Dick’s. Knotting in Jason’s. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Tim’s. Degradation in Damian’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked. Happy Halloweekend angels!

BRUCE WAYNE 🦇

A loner. A constant shadow over Gotham. A collector of all things macabre. And now, he has his sights set on you. You’re a pretty thing, dressed in all black at a late-autumn gala, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on you even when your back is turned.

So it’s no surprise that, when you tempt fate by rounding a corner into a deserted hallway, you are not alone.

Stepping out of the shadows, Bruce’s hand clamps around one side of your throat, leaving just one side—the side of your pulse—exposed for his lips. He kisses you there far more than he kisses your lips, nibbling and suckling the soft flesh over your pulse. Your heart beats faster and faster as your knees go weak, but his arm tightens around you.

“I have you, darling,” he husks. His skin is cold against yours, but perhaps that’s because the all-consuming presence of a man like this makes your blood run hot.

His other hand comes up to cup your flushed cheek, thumb dragging along the shape of your face as if he’s trying to memorize you.

“So warm. Such soft skin,” he murmurs, bending his head low and kissing your neck. “Such a beautiful creature.”

Something twists in your stomach when he says that—creature. An instinct tells you to run, but you quickly realize that the look in his eyes has you completely enthralled. He’s watching you with purpose, always keeping your eyes locked as if looking away from you will break the spell he has you under.

“I have to taste you,” he whispers, voice raw with a strain whose source you cannot place. He inhales deeply and lets out a low, feral noise before you feel a twinned shock of pain that makes you gasp: blood rushes to your neck and spills from your broken skin onto his waiting tongue, which greedily laps at the sweet nectar he just stole.

DICK GRAYSON 🦇

You never remember what happened the morning after your nights with your blue-eyed visitor in black, but you can’t stop the way your body aches for the mysterious stranger. At first, you thought he was a dream, but even you know that your unconscious can’t conjure up something as beautiful as him.

He wakes you by laying on top of you, pushing his hot-as-Hell flesh against yours. You didn’t go to sleep naked, but you’re naked now; your clothes are gone, but you’re covered with him, his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, one of his hands painfully squeezing the other, and his red-tipped cock already bullying its way into your slick folds. 

It hurts, but the ache is so dizzying that you can’t bring yourself to care, especially when you’re aware that you won’t remember this by morning anyway. You feel as if you’re being burned alive and made new in just the way he wants you. And that feels good, doesn’t it? Why else would you have woken up with your pussy soaking wet? 

He picks his head up just enough to watch you watch him while his tongue traces the outer edge of your areola and flicks your nipple in slow strokes, teasing it into hardness with just the tip of his tongue. He’s kneeling between your legs, and his free hand slides down to gently stroke your belly—which is when you notice that his fingers, like his cock, are tipped with blood-red skin.

Then comes his dark murmur, “Let me fill you, pretty thing. Let me give you a little gift to help you remember me.”

Your breath catches and, once again, he latches on—teeth first, this time.

At the same time, he thrusts into you, cock heavy and fire-hot, searing your skin and all but tearing you open while you keen and grasp at him, fingernails scraping down his back. His warmth is inescapable as he thrusts into you with inhuman force.

And you swear that, when he comes, filling you with his infernal seed, you catch a glimpse of a ruby glimmer in his once-blue eyes.

JASON TODD 🦇

Honestly, you handled finding out that your boyfriend is a werewolf remarkably well. But because you’re a human, he has one rule: no knotting. That is, until an October full moon has him more feral than usual, trapped in a rut that he’s powerless to fight against.

Jason has you hiked up against his chest, barely balanced on his thick thighs with your panties shoved aside. One finger is pressed firmly against your clit, the claws that come with his half-transformed state lightly grazing your sensitive skin. He’s already buried inside of you, thrusting so shallowly that he may as well be humping your innermost walls.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder. His skin rages with heat while his muscles tremble, lips mouthing along any inch of your skin that he can reach. Head heavy on your shoulder, he rasps out broken sentences, each cut off by animalistic whimpers and whines. “God, fuck— I can’t— I shouldn’t— You’re—”

You have one hand tangled in his hair, thumbing the soft black-and-white fur that crawls up along his hybrid ears. His cock, impossibly thick already, stretches you even more open than you already were, and you throw your head back to let out a moan of mixed pleasure-pain.

“Fuck,” he whispers, because he feels it too. “Baby, I’m— It’s—”

“Let it,” you gasp, feeling lightheaded with the pain of Jason filling you so completely, cockhead swelling so full that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. “Please, please, Jason, I need it.”

All that gets you is another guttural groan from him, a sound as close to a howl as he can make without being fully transformed. Still swelling, his cock is thick, heavy, hot—pulsing inside of you, begging to stay there, to fill you, to mark and mate with you. You can’t imagine what it must look like, but you know that the feeling is divine: this oneness, this wholeness, is something you’ve never felt before. It’s almost enough to dull how much your pussy aches.

“Jason,” you moan, tears filling your eyes.

“I know,” he soothes, trying to stay sturdy and stable for you even though his whole body is trembling. “Fuck, it— Baby, you feel so good. Such a good fucking girl, letting me mate with you. Gonna make you feel amazing, I promise.”

TIM DRAKE 🦇

“Stay still,” Tim teases, clawed fingers clamping down on your hip. “Or no rewards.”

Your back is pressed against the chilly, damp wall of the bat cave, and your clothes are shreds around your feet. You know this is all your fault, that you should have avoided the man who has only made his obsession with you painfully clear. As soon as the half-dragon spotted you—his treasure, his paramour, his little human love—he pounced. 

Half changed with pewter green scales climbing up his skin and pupils narrowed into reptilian slits, Tim wastes no time in turning your clothes into ribbons of fabric in effort to get to you.

And then he drops to his knees, burying his face in between your legs.

The forked tongue laves up and down the folds of your pussy, skirting along the outside of your sopping hole until you’re shuddering, clinging to him. His hand digs in harder, talons piercing the soft skin of your ass, scaly palm forcing your cunt against his mouth until you feel the sting of sharpened teeth against your mound.

Even though his teeth sting your pulsing flesh, even though his licks are too fast to be completely pleasurable, you feel yourself grow slick around his tongue. Your head falls back against the wall and you begin to pant, heart beating so fast that you start to feel faint, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

His forked tongue reaches impossibly deep within you. The fleshy muscle feels wrong but also so good, skin fading from soft pink to greenish-black, its texture rough and bumpy, stimulating you from more directions than you have ever felt at once. 

He licks all the way to your cervix—a thing no mere mortal man could ever do to you—greedily biting, sucking, and growling against your throbbing, abused pussy until finally you come with a pitiful, worn-out scream.

You feel his ice-cold lips pull into a smile as he breathes, “Good human. Now give me another—or three more. Maybe five.”

DAMIAN WAYNE 🦇

You go to the guardian of an ancient library for help but, poor you, the sphinx’s riddles prove too challenging for you. In accordance with the legends, you expect to be smited on the spot, or at least banished, but instead—the sphinx shifts to his human form and decides that you are his.

How lucky it is that Damian decides he likes you enough to keep you captive instead of simply killing you as punishment. How lucky it is that he is clever enough to find a use for your frail human form. How lucky it is that he doesn’t find mating with you as repulsive as he originally thought.

“At least work for it,” he drawls, stifling a yawn while he leans back on the emerald-green settee. His arms are spread, powerful shoulders and biceps making him look even bigger than he already is. No, he never touches you—that would be demeaning—but he does offer you the privilege of riding his cock until you make yourself come.

You close your eyes and drive your hips forward and down, trying to strike the spot inside you that only he can reach. No sooner than your eyes flutter closed, though, he snaps his fingers in front of you.

“Look at me, pet.” His head rests on the back of the chair, lips parted with every breath that makes his chest slowly rise and fall. His face looks warm and you wonder what it might feel like to kiss those plush lips—but you’re also coherent enough to realize that he’s measuring his breaths on purpose.

You’re getting to him. You think. You hope. Maybe if you please him, he’ll let you go. 

He shifts his hips up and you cry out, nearly losing your balance on his powerful thighs, but a warm hand suddenly cups your ass to drag you back into place. He leans forward, stomach flexing, and murmurs in your ear, “Can’t even do this without help, can you? Useless little human.”

[hima-matta04]

Can I request hcs about what the homicipher boys would be like if you had a significant other who didn't treat you well in the human world?

Why yes of course 😘💍

Comfort After a Bad Memory

(characters mentioned: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood)

𝕄𝕣. ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘

He picked up on every little change in you. It started when he noticed how sometimes you would daze off. Lost in thought, you didnt even hear Mr. Crawling creeping his way towards you.

The gasp that left your throat as he suddenly placed his hand over yours, breaking your train of thought, confirmed his concern. “You sad.”

when you lowered your chin he tilted his head. “Why sad?” He lovingly placed his cheek on your knee.

He couldn’t quite understand what you were trying to say. The only words you knew to say were “they hurt me, make me sad. Been long time, still sad.”, he wrapped his arms around you, not knowing the concept of being mistreated in a relationship, but still supportive.

your eyes welled from tears of the past, but they were accompanied by a warm feeling. Mr. Crawling would never leave you alone and sad. “no sad anymore. Me make happy. Me like you. Me care you. No make sad.” He cheered innocent, not knowing even how someone could hurt such a beautiful creature like yourself.

𝕄𝕣. 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒

He can practically read your mind. He studied you for so long, not only your physical appearance, but also your manners and body language.

he would 100% already know whats wrong when he first see the look in your eyes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either comfort you first, sweeping you into his arms and letting you cry into him, then find the person that hurt you, or vice-versa.

let’s say got you to give a detailed description of the heartbreaker. He would find himself in the human world, searching, lerking, stalking. Scarletella would eventually return litarally with blood on his hands. he would waste not a single second to lift you up and hold you sweetly with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His words were sweet as he reassured you that tou are worth more to him than any diamond or treasure that could ever be discovered.

his hands softly stroke your hair as you cry, hushing you softly and doing what you deserved in the first place. Loving you unconditionally without question.

𝕄𝕣. 𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕧𝕒𝕚𝕣

You’re his darling. And i firmly believe that he would 1000% call you that if you taught him.

you came to him, with teary eyes and your lip quivering. He rushed towards you, crouching to your height to get a good look at you. “What wrong?” He would ask as he uses his finger to wipe your tears.

He understands a little better than most. No time gets wasted on him lifting you up and setting you gently on a couch while he scavenges for something to cheer you up. He returns with something to eat that doesn’t exactly look edible, but it didnt taste half bad.

he holds you in his lap while you rant and ramble. Fingers gently brushing through your hair as he listens. The lights in the room are just dim enough for you to get sleepy. As you rest your head on his chest, he gently rubs your arm and wispers love affirming words to you.

this was the most perfect way to fall asleep.

𝕄𝕣. ℂ𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕

He’s a personal, portable therapist for all of your problems. He could listen to you all day if you coyld speak for that long. Naturally, when you rushed to him for the daily ramble, he caught how your normal ranting turned a little quiet.

your mood was off when you began to speak of the pain you went through in a past relationship. He conforted you, telling you that you are amazing and worth way better than that trash.

Once you were reassured, he felt himself being hoisted into the air like a teddy bear. He enjoyed being there for you. Especially when you cradled him liks a support animal.

𝕄𝕣. 𝔾𝕒𝕡

It all started when you sunk back against the wall behind you, not noticing the hole that your ear was now right right to. That was until you heard that eerie, grating voice.

“want heart…you give?” You looked over and saw that stupid shit eating grin. At that point you let him have it.

yoy rambled on and on about every issue and thought that lingered on your mind, pouring your heart out to him. He said he wanted your heart but not like this!

his smile quickly faded once you said a few words that he could just barely understand, making him feel bad for you. He reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, now invested in the story.

maybe he wasnt so annoying after all. He still wanted your actual heart though.

𝕄𝕣. ℍ𝕠𝕠𝕕

(idk why the ‘H’ looks like that wtf)

He finds you crying in a room all by yourself. When he rushes over towards you, his heart practically melts at your pitiful expression, quickly scooping you up in his arms and cradling you.

“you hurt? What wrong? Tell me.” He’s very worried about you, gently checking for injuries. A soft, relieved sigh leaves his mouth as you confirm no physical damage.

He’s very patient and caring while you try to explain what happened in his language, occasionally slipping up which he catches and gently corrects earning a displeased stare from your teary eyes each time.

He places sweet kisses on your face after drying your tears. At this point you’re all cried out and tired. He totes you around with him as you sleep gebtly in his protective arms before he places one last kiss on your forehead.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ REQUIESCAT IN PACE ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. the dead deserve their happy endings.

CHARACTERS. dainsleif, tartaglia, zhongli

CONTENT. gn!reader. afterlife au. angst. 1.8k wc. rewrite of requiescat in pace at my old main blog @/verxsyon. everyone dies and ascends to a higher plane of existence. fan interpretation of snezhnaya and celestia arc. allusions to war, so expect blood and death. tartaglia and reader adopted children together in the afterlife. dainsleif killed reader from the curse. reader is killed by their spouse (zhongli). petnames (my dear, darling - zhongli).

VERA. it’s been three years since this fic was posted. crazy how time flies. i remember crying when i wrote this. hopefully i’ll make you all suffer as well hahaha.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DAINSLEIF

five hundred years ago is when dainsleif committed the gravest mistake of his life. he was the twilight sword, a royal guard sworn to protect the people and the royalties of khaenri’ah. his people placed their trust in him to stop the destruction of the nation, only to watch them turn into monsters from the curse laid upon them.

the castle he enters with the traveler and paimon holds many memories he wishes to forget. it was occupied by the eclipse dynasty, the ruler of khaenri’ah before its destruction. he was well acquainted with the heir at the time: you, and soon fell in love. he passes by your room, where he killed you to stop your transformation. realizing what he had done, he left for them to suffer.

“dainsleif,” the abyss herald sneers. dainsleif is so used to that tone of voice. him and the rest of the abyss, especially its leader, have the right to resent him. the traveler and paimon are not here to back him up as they are looking for the twin, so he must atone his own sins himself.

“do whatever you need to do,” dainsleif says, starry voids emitting from his palms. “i don’t intend to hold back.”

the curse of immortality. how sickening. for five hundred years, he has wandered aimlessly for information about his nation. regardless of the amount he has gathered, he wants to end his journey here. he trusts the traveling duo to answer the rest for him.

is death supposed to be this painful? well-deserved for a coward like him. he can sense the satisfaction from the herald destroying him inside his body with hydro. the abyss now has one less problem to deal with. dainsleif can feel himself slipping away, departing the world still a sinner. 

“sir dainsleif. their highness requests your presence.” he is at the castle, decorated with life instead of the dust and cracks when he first arrived. the guard with him possesses no signs of abyssal features. everyone here doesn’t.

behind the double doors is you admiring the plants on the balcony. he gapes at your appearance: the heir of the eclipse dynasty, beautiful and regal as ever. you thank the guard for bringing him over, and they take their leave. this can’t be real.

“my dear dainsleif.” he loses his composure, rushing over to you to pull you into his embrace. your eyes soften upon feeling his sobs on your neck. “my love? are you alright?”

he sniffs, tightening his grip. your touch, your voice, your love for him, he misses them all. “forgive me, your highness. let’s stay like this for a while.”

“i told you to drop the formalities when we’re alone. we’re lovers, aren’t we?” you chuckle, your fingers finding purchase in his blonde locks. oh, how he misses that feeling. “and what are you saying sorry for? we’re all human here. if that makes you feel better, we can stay like this as long as you like.”

dainsleif lifts his head to kiss your knuckles and then presses his lips on yours. he does not know what brought him here, but he is truly grateful. whatever this realm is called, as long as you’re by his side, he will always be forgiven.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TARTAGLIA

tartaglia is naive about the future. the desire to protect it influences his decision to serve the tsaritsa. with the mora he earned as a harbinger, he hopes to buy his family a house and send teucer to school. when the war is over, he plans to settle with you and live in a cabin where the two of you ice fish with your children.

if only it was that easy. his family is suffering from financial hardships, and the mora he sends is their savior. as for you, you severed ties with him a long time ago because of moral differences. in fact, you lead the faction that opposes the cryo archon and the fatui as your act of revenge for your family.

the palace is in shambles. the traveler and paimon escort the tsaritsa out of the throne room to allow you and tartaglia to compromise. your mind is not easily swayed as expected, given that you spent most of your life waiting to kill. your fate has been decided, when bloodlust overtook him and made him pierce his weapon through your stomach.

“no!” he cradles your body into his arms. his grief causes his delusion to spiral out of control, bringing the palace to destruction. the traveler and paimon rush back inside the room, yelling at the harbinger to get out of there. but he chooses to stay.

“traveler, can you please do me a favor?” they look at him in shock when he places the tip of their on his chest. “put me out of my misery before i lose control. i want to see my friend again. and when you see my family, tell them i’m sorry for everything.”

swift and painless, exactly how he wants death to feel like. the boulders come crashing down upon you and him, and he blacks out. he wonders if the tsaritsa and the traveler will succeed in preventing the second cataclysm. he wonders how his family will handle the news. teucer will be affected the most, feeling betrayed by his big brother lying that he’ll come home soon.

he wonders about you. if you two ever come to a mutual understanding, will the future be any different?

“papa!” a voice of a child calls, waking him up to a scenery full of snow. he spots a cabin in the distance, where a little girl is waving at him with a proud grin. she runs up to him with a bucket in tow, tripping on lumps of ice along the way.

“papa, look! i caught some fish!” she exclaims, showing him the content of her bucket. a cacophony of high-pitched screams echo. more children spook him by hugging his legs.

“good job, baby. you found papa.” he gasps at the sight of you kissing the girl’s forehead. he can’t believe it. “okay, kids. since papa is here, let’s go home. we’re going to eat fish for dinner.”

“yay!” the kids who seem to be his children happily zoom to the cabin, making you chuckle. tartaglia doesn’t waste any time hugging you tight. he can’t lose you again.

“ajax?” it’s been a while since you called him by his birth name. you cup his cheeks with worry when you see tears streaming down his face. “are you okay?”

he nods, kissing you as if his life depends on it. “i’m okay. shall we go home? we don’t want to keep our kids waiting, do we?”

hand in hand, the two of you follow your children to the cabin. in a future where a war between all creatures of teyvat is over, ajax is finally home.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ZHONGLI

the past six thousand years have been prolific of brutality. old friends and acquaintances were subjected to erosion, being forced to neutralize them. one is unfortunate enough to perish from the archon war, leading to the creation of liyue harbor.

if there is one thing to take away from her advice, it’s about the concept of change. he is the type of person to slowly adapt into it. her death and the death of the land they both created is not easy to accept. change isn’t a bad thing, she had said. he did not take her words into heart until he met you.

you’re a mortal who lived in a village, you spent more time exploring the outskirts without letting everyone know. you couldn’t care less, having a dream to live in a lively city like liyue. a certain archon would’ve loved you, for you valued freedom. 

he finds you to be quite humorous. once you joked about eloping with the former archon somewhere teeming with fireflies and crystalflies. when he asked you to define the term, you brushed it off and changed the subject. if he knew you weren’t kidding, you wouldn’t have fallen victim to your marriage.

shame, at such a young age too. he regrets not being able to keep you safe, reminding him of his failure with his old friends and the people who are fighting in the second cataclysm by his side. at the climax of the war, he comes face to face with the gods who stirred the calamities around the world for centuries. as much as he wants to stray from violence, he can’t let them win.

“i will no longer stay silent,” he growls, summoning his pillars around incoming enemies. contracts are sacred, no matter who he established them with. breaking any of those would result in facing the wrath of the rock. breaking the one he signed with celestia would mean he would suffer under his own wrath.

gold liquid spills onto the floor, and his ears are blocked by white noise. no, he can’t die like this. not right this instant. his allies haven’t reached an advantage yet. how is it possible for the strongest deity to already fall like this?

six thousand years of changes and sacrifices. the geo element is strong and unmoving, yet it can also crumble. zhongli has to keep on fighting for the sake of his allies and those who have perished, and yours. all he needs to do is take that extra step to victory.

“zhongli?” that voice is familiar. too familiar. he gazes at his swarms of fireflies and crystalflies circling around your figure. your fingers lingers across his cheek with a somber smile. “my dear, you looked troubled in your sleep. do you want to talk about it?”

he leans on your shoulder, inhaling your scent. he’s so tired, enduring six thousand years worth of cycles of life and death among his nation. “hm, i will eventually. but please let me rest first, darling…”

“okay,” you hum, linking your hand with his. “rest well, zhongli. if you need a shoulder to cry on, i will be here. i won’t ever leave your side.”

you tilt his head to kiss him, tasting the salt of his tears on your lips. his allies may be gone and treasured in his memories, you choose to remain by his side and give him relief that he won’t be alone. not anymore.

zhongli is not the same person he was before, and believes he will never be. cradling the finger adorned with the ring crafted from the abundant rocks in liyue, it gives him hope. you are his pillar. when at his lowest, you and your army of lights will guide him back to the surface.

[devildomcuties]

Model for Me

pairing: satan x f. reader

genre: smut, established relationship, 18+

summary: Satan discovers drawing is like meditation and asks you to model for him.

wc: 2k

warnings: dialogue from the texts 'Model For Me', demonus, pet names (love, babe, kitten, good girl), marking (biting, hickeys, bruises), possesiveness, unprotected sex, creampie

Date: April 1, 2025

“I’d like to draw a side of you only I know.”

Satan’s words come to the forefront of your mind as you loosen the sash on your green silky robe. 

Diavolo has called everyone except for you and Satan on an expedition to the Human World, a favor you asked for so you and Satan could be alone without interruptions.

The black, rolled arm chaise lounge sits in the middle of the garden, bright lights placed nearby to give Satan enough light to work with.

A table sits nearby with flutes of Demonus. A flute in your hand as you take a seat on the chaise lounge.

You’ve arrived a few minutes early to make sure everything is ready for Satan, and now you can sip your drink and relax as Satan heads your way, a thick leather-bound sketchbook in his hands.

“You went all out, huh?” Satan asks as he takes a seat a few feet away from you. A smile appears on your lips as you set the flute back on the table with the rest.

You head to Satan, easily sitting in his lap, your arms loosely draped on his shoulders. “Of course. Only the best for you.”

Satan grins. His forehead presses against yours, thanking you softly before you kiss his cheek.

“Want to get started?” You ask as you carefully climb off his lap. His hands linger on your hips, not wanting to let you go, especially when your robe slips down your shoulder, exposing your skin.

How long had it been since the two of you had the House of Lamentation to yourselves?

Too damn long.

Satan swallows thickly, debating drawing you like he so desperately had been wanting to, or taking you to his bedroom or the library to ravish you until you lose your voice from screaming his name loud enough to fill the empty halls of your shared home.

“Love?” You probe gently, your fingers lifting his chin so he looks up at you. His eyes shine brightly, with adoration in them. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m ready.”

“Good, how do you want me?”

On your hands and knees, taking me so deep, you feel me in your stom-

Satan shakes his head, clearing any salacious thoughts as he motions to the chaise lounge. “Start sitting, and I’ll let you know how to pose once I get settled.”

“Sure thing, love. I’m yours to do with as you please,” you say earnestly as you sit on the chaise lounge with one leg crossed over the other. It’s then that Satan notices the anklet on your left ankle; it glimmers when the light hits it. A gold S and a little gold heart.

Satan doesn’t think his cock can get any harder as he slumps in his seat. His cheeks flush with heat, sweat beads on his forehead as he opens his sketchbook with shaky hands. 

Perhaps a cold shower would be more ideal than drawing you. Or maybe, he should move this to the bathroom where he can sprayed by cold water while he tries to draw you.

It’s not like this was the first time he’d seen you wearing so little, but the robe matched his nails, and the anklet kept sparkling every time you moved. 

The pencil in his hand presses harshly to a blank page in his book. He inhales deeply as he forces himself to look at you, ignoring the throb of his cock when his eyes land on your perfect physique.

Fuck, if he didn’t want to devour you whole.

How was he supposed to draw your every perfection? How could he capture every perfect bit of you? Drawing was supposed to calm him like it had before at his friend’s place, but your beauty was more outstanding than the model he’d roughly sketched that day.

He figured this would be a good bonding/date type thing the both of you could do together but you were sitting there, waiting for his command, and he wanted to ravish you; fuck you like an animal, fill you full of his cum and then fuck it all back into you.

Wouldn’t you look gorgeous with his cum streaked across your face? A perfect masterpiece that made his dick twitch.

Shit, what were you doing to him?

Get it together, Satan scolds himself as you wait for his instruction. He moves toward you with slow, sure steps as he has you lie on your right side, your hand delicately placed on your cheek. He then loosens the robe enough to expose your breast, and with a few more adjustments, he’s ready to get started.

Satan focuses on you as he sketches, attempting to capture every curve and every line of your marvelous self. 

You do your best to stay still until your first break. Satan has your outline down, and a few details. He could easily finish the rest from memory, but you’re eager to see it through until the end.

You share a flute of Demonus with him, kissing him to allow the drink to fill his mouth. Satan groans, cursing as he pulls you onto his lap.

“Don’t start what you don’t intend to finish,” Satan warns in a low tone. He’s on the edge of slipping, of letting his demon form free.

You undo the sash, allowing the robe to slip and bunch at your hips as you place your hands on his shoulders. “I want to make you finish.”

Satan growls, gripping your hips, causing you to rub against his erection.

He can’t take much more of your teasing. His lips capture yours in a deep kiss that makes your heart skip a beat. Your fingers grip his blond hair, tugging to make him moan against your lips. His tongue meets yours, deepening the kiss as you unbutton his shirt, helping him out of it.

You need him, your body craving his touch, his kiss. 

“Satan!” You cry out as he nips your neck, leaving his mark behind as he takes a nipple into his mouth. You arch your back and hold him to your chest as you focus long enough to make the rest of his clothes disappear.

Satan isn’t the least bit surprised. Instead, he grabs your ass, squeezing it before you crash your lips to his as he lines up at your entrance.

“Fuck,” you groan as your eyes squeeze shut. He’s so thick, the familiar ache so fucking good. He slides home easily, moaning your name as he pulls out just enough to see how you’re already creaming his cock.

The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other, and it’s not surprising that your little session has led to the two of you fucking like your lives depend on it.

Satan cups your face, his eyes locked on yours as you bounce on his length. “You’re so beautiful.”

You lean into his touch, turning your head just enough to take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip before releasing it.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, eyes hooded before he kisses you again. You grind on him as one hand holds your hip, the other grips the back of your head like a lifeline. He never wants to let you go. He’d keep you locked in his bedroom if he could, if he knew Lucifer and Diavolo wouldn’t tear down the House of Lamentation free you.

You were his, and he was yours. 

That’s how it was always meant to be.

“Satan,” you moan wanton when his lips trail kisses to your neck, your hips slowly moving against his before you end up on your back underneath him. The chaise lounge squeaks in protest, but neither of you cares as he pulls out just to slam into you.

Your hand moves over your head to grab the arm of the seat as Satan slides his hand up your thigh that you’ve wrapped around him.

“Always so pretty like this,” He comments as he fucks into you, licking his lips when your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. You moan his name, cursing him for being so thick, for fucking you so good… you’re not even sure you’re making sense as he drives into you again and again the obscene noises of your coupling falling on deaf ears.

“That’s it, kitten. Take this cock like the good girl you are,” Satan groans as you tighten around him. His head lolls back, exposing his pretty throat. You should mark it with deep reds and purples, mark him as yours for everyone to see.

Satan chuckles.

Did you say that aloud?

Your hands grip his forearms, nails digging into his skin as he tugs you closer, one hand around your throat as you come undone.

“Satan! Satan!” you cry out as pleasure consumes you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head, leaving you shaking and clenching around him. He curses your name, loosening his hold on your throat as he brings your ankles to his shoulders. 

Satan is gentle when he kisses your left ankle, his teeth tugging on the S.

“You’re mine,” he states as he allows your legs to slide back down to his waist. He presses his forehead to yours, nose to nose, as he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper before his lips meet yours. You kiss him, hoping he’ll get a taste of how much you care for him, how much you love him.

“Good,” he smirks. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you can ask what he means, he turns you on your side as he slides in behind you on the chaise lounge. His lips meet your shoulders as he lifts your left leg over his. He grinds into you slowly, fucking you slower.

You moan as he fills you deeper, his hand rubbing your clit and you know you won’t last long, not when he’s fucking you so deep, so good.

Satan’s tongue licks your neck, and you melt as he holds you close, rubbing tight circles on your clit until you tremble, falling apart for him. 

“Go ahead, let go.”

“Satan,” his name rolls off your tongue in a heady cry, and it’s what sets him off, has him holding you tight as he cums deep inside you with a groan. He buries his face in your shoulder, muffling the desperate cry of your name as he cums hard.

It takes a few minutes for you to gather your senses, smiling like a fool as Satan slowly lowers your leg after he pulls out. 

“Hi,” he grins as he rests his chin on your side. 

“Hi,” you smile, your fingers running through his messy hair.

Your robe is stuck under you, bunching almost painfully, but you don’t care as you pull Satan closer. You manage to roll onto your side to face him, draping your leg over him.

Satan rests his hand on your hip, where a few bruises already form from earlier. 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” he says as he looks you in the eye. He had a hard time controlling his emotions, but he always tried his best when it came to you. He had promised himself he’d be truthful with you, no matter how difficult it was for him to get the words out, to express himself.

“I would do anything for you,” you cup his cheek. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Satan nods. 

“So, how’s the drawing coming?” you tease, and he glares at you playfully.

“Gonna have to make a few adjustments,” he teases.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like the cum dripping from you unless I fuck it back in,” He smiles smuggly. You shove him gently, rolling your eyes.

“I’m a masterpiece,” you laugh as you spread your legs further. Satan agrees easily as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“How about I paint you from the inside?” Satan smirks, and you giggle.

“You’re ridiculous!”

“And you love me anyways.”

“That I do,” you confirm, kissing him as he slides into you. You grip his shoulders, your moan muffled by his pretty lips.

Satan’s not sure if he’ll ever finish the drawing left forgotten in his sketchbook, but he’s more than happy to end up inside you again and again with every attempt.

[ma1dita]

not your goddess

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> to see the chaos through | next -> don't blame the kids words: 8k holy shit this is the longest fic for this series so far summary: (established relationship (uhhhh, well…)) The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. Change in perspective is always good, but it makes you and Luke see your futures quite differently—you wonder if you’ll be together in it at all. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: mmmyeah this is a songfic - goddess by laufey. references to waiting for godot by samuel beckett if you squint

—

[ it always goes like this, could've predicted it || i'm so naïve to think you loved me for me, kissed as I ran off stage || you're too old to play this game, guess you're still growing up at thirty nineteen]

Once you open yourself up to someone and bare your soul to them in honesty, they get a choice whether they want to be with you or not. It’s as simple and as convoluted as that. Normal humans are complex as it is—but to be a demigod must mean to endure all of that and then some. Luke has been especially hard to reach lately, and trying to understand him feels like grappling wisps of smoke. You let him build his whole life around you without either of you realizing and suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in. Though maybe he always knew that—Luke Castellan is always intentional, and always full of surprises. 

“We should run away from here.”

His voice breaks through the crunching of dead leaves underfoot on your trek to the stables. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking, even harder to decipher when your eyes meet in the dim light hanging above the Dutch doors that you walk through. 

The two of you move as if partners in an orchestrated dance, the steps routine and not needing instruction; you fill up the water troughs and he steps around you to grab the bag of feed while his other hand grazes your waist, beckoning you to the next task. Most days are like this now, plotted out perfectly from sunrise to sunset. 

To be content means that most of it is predictable, and some might call it boring, but it comes with the inner satisfaction that what the both of you share is only yours. 

It’s peaceful.

Neither of you has ever really had that—and in your own way, both of you want to hold onto it for as long as you have it. Like how comets are always predictable; the knowing doesn’t make them any less beautiful.

“Let’s go now then,” you chuckle lightly, not looking at him as you shut off the hose. Bowie, your pegasus, brays in thanks as he dunks his muzzle into the trough, splashing water at your ankles. The water is frigid, a chill crawling up your spine and when you look up, Luke’s already staring at you solemnly, almost blending in with the shadows that drape over the barn. He stands there leaning against the wooden fence with his sharp, stone-faced features carved out by moonlight.

“Baby?” 

Eyebrows furrowing, you take a step towards him and he’s eerily still, holding a hand out for you. His fingers don’t shake once you intertwine them with your own and he’s so sure of himself that his resolve is like a suit of armor. What a funny thought—him needing protection from you of all people, the girl he lays bare with most nights and who knows him at his most vulnerable. 

“What do you think? Do I look like I’m joking?”

Luke’s words creak like metal hinges—coming off abrasive at the sight of your resistant expression. Truthfully, he hates it when you look at him like this—like there’s something wrong about him that you’re convinced you can fix. You don’t do it on purpose, but he’d like to think that you don’t think of him as one of your little DIY projects. This is different, calculated—his plans for the both of you will map out the rest of your future.

“Are…are you planning to leave?”

Though you hate to make the comparison, he’s a lot like his father: a one-track mind with only him knowing what’s coming next. Luke just expects everyone else to keep up, and you’re left feeling like someone’s pulled the rug out from under you as he holds onto your wrists firmly in the dim light. He’s nervous, even if he doesn’t show it. You can still tell by the way his voice cracks, a melancholy sound like he’s pleading for you to understand a hidden meaning you must’ve missed in the past few months of bliss.

 “We are,” he corrects, before his voice begins to falter, “I mean we can. We…we should,” he says tentatively, and your arms jerk forward with the motion as you stumble into his grasp, “Think of it, babe. We could get out of here and do something great. Make a life for ourselves.”

You squint.

He’s not even asking, and that makes it worse, you think—it’s like he’s already got one foot out the door. You’re not sure if he even considered you possibly saying no.

Are you?

Entertaining frivolous conversations that your boyfriend has with you before bed is one thing—but acting on them? The truth is that you’ve never afforded yourself a future outside of the reality that you have now. You never thought you’d have this after everything—running across the country to find your father and make this family in nowhere New York. It wasn’t a possibility that your 14-year-old self would’ve ever dreamed of. 

But then it happened, and you count your lucky stars that it led you to Luke. This is your home; you built it from the ground up with him the day you both stepped into your roles and washed your hands of stupid pranks. And maybe what you’ve always dreamt of is something you already have now.

Is that a crime? To like your reality better because it’s tangible—not everyone needs to be the main character in a sweeping saga. You do have a life, and you’d like to say it’s pretty alright, all things considered.

“Luke,” you swallow, face scrunching up in the way it does when he knows you’re about to say no, “I mean what about our responsibilities? What about…”

It was cute back when you were fourteen, but he now finds that he hates the way your nose scrunches up when you disagree with something, and it always makes him feel stupid for even asking in the first place. Luke steps away, dropping your hands as he sighs gruffly, “That’s a shit excuse, you know that, babe.” Dust kicks up from under his feet and you think he looks like a child about to throw a tantrum. The pegasi whinny softly behind you, and if they could talk it would probably be something like, Oh shit. Like a flip of a switch, he’s erratic, something pent up inside of him is now uncontrolled.

“I mean what do you want me to say, Luke? You want us to leave? Just disappear and leave Annie and Grover… and my brothers? What then? We don’t have money or degrees, or anywhere to go to—”

“We could make do—I mean we’ve both done it before Trouble, and now we can be together without all this. We don’t need camp. Or the gods’ blessings, I mean what did they ever do for us?” 

He’s tired, you think—because the Luke standing in front of you right now isn’t anything like the one you know. Your Luke loves your campers as much as you do; he’s the type that gives piggyback rides and teaches the little ones how to swim in Canoe Lake. He prays at every mealtime—twice as long because you don’t see the point in it, and likes to fall asleep against your chest in the twinkly lights of cabin 12.

The Luke you know would never want to run away from the home you’ve both created for yourselves. Not without a proper plan. Luke always says that he loves making plans just as much as he loves you, which must mean a lot.

You already have what you want, for now. That’s the contingency of it—for now. You just don’t see it getting better than this; finding camp meant finding yourself, and that’s what your mother always wanted for you. Having a real shot of being a family, even if your dad drives you nuts, and the twins like to fill the bathtub with root beer, and Annie constantly demanding she prove that she knows the first 500 digits of pi comes with the path you chose. 

Family—it’s what you were promised.

“We’re not ready, Luke. I mean… the real world out there is a lot worse than getting a C in archery or avoiding bathroom duty. We’ve still got some growing up to do—what’s the rush?”

He’s testy now—jaw swinging the crick in his neck and he does this when he’s about to say something mean, like the words have to fight their way out of his mouth, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Luke watches you look cluelessly at him like nothing he’s saying is making sense and it’s so frustrating that it makes his head hurt. What happened to you—his free-spirited girl who would follow wherever he leads? You don’t know how crucial this all is—Luke needs to know…

He needs to know if you’ll still follow him wherever he goes, even if it’s away from everything you have here.

But maybe you both imagined growing old together quite differently then.

“You’re making it sound like I’m in over my head about this when I know you don’t like it here. Listen to what I’m trying to tell you,” he bristles, hand leaning over the wooden beam above your head, “This place is getting old. We’re getting old. I want everything with you. Can’t you see that?” It feels like he’s caging you in, and he makes it sound so simple that it makes you laugh.

“Of course I do. All I’m saying is we should think this through more. I mean…We’re demigods. I’m not saying we can’t handle it and I’m not saying no, but—”, you barely finish the sentence before Luke interrupts you again. 

The difficulty with Luke is that when he wants something, he wants it with his entire being. And he never goes down without a fight—even when its with you.

“But you’re not saying yes. Then what are you saying? That you wouldn’t be happy with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you swing yourself out from under his arm and start taking off your apron because clearly, work is not on the agenda tonight. You fling it onto the hook before spinning around to look at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I am happy with you. Here. Where it’s safe. Where we have beds to sleep in and food to eat and the only real reason I have to look over my shoulder is to see if my dad’s bribing your siblings to sneak him alcohol,” you say half-jokingly, and it so badly misses the mark as you see his brows furrow deeper into his forehead. 

“Give me a break,” he seethes, your name rolling out of his lips like acid and he has more to say but doesn’t know if he should. But he’s already started something and you’re just waiting for him to finish it. He has a habit of doing this, rolling the words around in his mouth for dramatic effect. 

This is gonna hurt.

“Oh just spit it out, Luke. Don’t whine like a baby.”

“Your dad? He’s a fucking joke. Can’t stand him half the time and I don’t know how you do,” he starts, pacing around you like a boxer in a ring. You stand still as a statue, eyes lit and tracking him in the dark as he continues, “You know I’m right. He’s just keeping you busy because now that he has you, he wants to control you. And you don’t even get a pat on the back.”

“You do not wanna go there, I can promise you that.”

“Well, I am. Because I’m tired of watching you waste your potential. You used to be so…exciting,” His arms swing around him like feathered wings and Luke shakes his head, turning away from you to look at the moon, “I need you to care about our future too, okay? Cut the shit and be a real fucking person for once and not whatever this little puppet show you put on for your dad is because it drives me crazy sometimes. All the time. I’m losing it, Trouble. Can’t you tell?”

It feels like a blow to the chest and you take a deep breath to placate your feelings in case they’re tampering with his—and you find that the anger is all his own. Your words shoot out like a lit cannon in rebuttal, “This drives you crazy? I didn’t know it was so hard on you, Luke. Poor you, picking up after me when you literally offer to help,” you scoff, stomping over to get him to look at you since he’s so intent on having this conversation, “Do you think you get granted immortality for checking off campers on your attendance log?” He can’t have thought it would be that easy, can’t have imagined you wouldn’t get defensive when things don’t go your way. Because it’s been like that for a while now, and Luke’s been falling off pace with life here. He’s not the all-star golden boy he used to be. Deep down, you know that too; he only likes it here because you do. They say with anything the first year is the hardest—and although he wouldn’t change a thing with your relationship, this took work. Loving you was supposed to be his reward, and it’s as if he doesn’t know you anymore. 

He’s not sure he knows himself that well anymore either.

“Of course not! That’s exactly what I’m saying—all of this won’t help us, so why are we exhausting ourselves instead of focusing on what’s important?” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the curls to anchor himself to this argument. And now you just want to strike back, to be damned with the consequences. Real love is a mirror, and although it's your first big fight…sometimes it hurts to be seen better than how you see yourself, and it hurts less to inflict it upon someone else instead of admitting that it hurts you.

“Oh so I’m exhausting to be with, is that it?”

He rips his apron off and tosses it at you, “Yes. Is that what you want me to say? You want a bad guy, you’ll get one. I don’t know what to—” His anger has always brewed like a storm—quiet and rumbling under the surface until he’s ready to strike. It comes down all at once and you’re covered in it with no way out but through. You bat the fabric to the ground angrily.

“You wanna repeat that?”

He laughs, a mocking, snarling sound, “You know what, it makes sense now—you’re just like your father. It all tracks!”

Your jaw tightens, pushing through by giving him another chance, testing him. Daring him.

“You wanna say that again?”

The wind picks up at his feet as he spins around you so fast it almost gives you whiplash, “Don’t give me that bullshit.” He’s tired and angry, but you’ve never seen this other side of him before—this ferocity that was unleashed at the idea of you wanting something he might not. Maybe you both are too similar then, too stubborn to give in until someone breaks.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Castellan. I’m warning you. Just because your dad hates you doesn’t mean that mine does.”

He laughs. 

Luke laughs like you’ve just told him you’ve put Chiron in another dress and that pigs can fly but then he looks at you… He looks at you with his chestnut brown eyes and they’re just empty, boring deep into your soul.

“What happened to you?”

It’s a weird feeling, to know someone so well that you can see the other side of them they can’t see for themselves. You haven’t got a single clue.

“I grew up. You were there, Luke. You helped me do it. I wanted to be just like you—the role model, the one that people like, and what, now that I'm not just some crazy idea in your head you’re bored?” 

Your voice cracks and so does a piece of Luke’s heart. You’re too tenderhearted, too good for him, and everything about you sends shockwaves through his being. This is what he told Kronos—even if you had it in you to force the gods to kneel and listen, would you be able to make the jump? Luke blinks, tuning back into your words.

“I mean you’re not even asking. It seems like you’ve made your decision for us. What does that mean to you? Us?”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. His apology feels heavier than it should, and you can’t figure out why. He won’t let you find out if he even means it. 

“No, you’re not. You don’t even know what you’re sorry for, and now as soon as we’re happy, you get bored. You wanna talk about fathers, you’re just like yours too. Happy?” 

The words come out almost explosive, a shot in the dark and you didn’t think you’d say it, but you did. Thoughtless, without care, until it sinks into him like a sharp blade. Luke’s face hardens and you’re not sure how long he’s been standing so far away.

“Are we?”

It’s almost lights out and you’re still here arguing with Luke, so today was not as predictable as you thought it would be. Unease grips you by the scrap of your neck like a merciless kitten, holding on for dear life. This isn’t a feeling you should associate with the love of your life.

“What did you say?”

“Like you said, we’re demigods,” he says whispering your name, “what do we do now that we’re happy? That usually means something worse is coming up ahead.” Luke scoffs, half in disbelief at his own realization, the other half in defeat, “We’re meant for more than just being happy—that…this isn’t enough. We’re meant for glory, not shoveling pegasi shit and taking care of children instead of planning for a future with our own. This shouldn’t be the end of us.”

Your lip quivers, tongue in cheek and you need to touch something, hold someone, to remind yourself that this is happening. But you don’t reach out to him because if you get too close he’ll see the tears in your eyes. Grabbing the dandy brush, you trudge over to Bowie and rake it through his hair, mumbling, “I’m happy. I’ve got you,” you swallow, turning to Luke, “I love you.”

He’s already in the doorway, swinging the bottom panel closed with his hip as he looks over his shoulder, frowning.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Bowie brays next to you and it sounds like someone blowing a raspberry when they’re tired of a situation—maybe you are going crazy and they do understand—but one thing you do know is that you can’t understand Luke right now. 

The truth is that love is a bunch of horseshit, really.

[ oh, were you surprised by me when you took me home? || When the glamour wore off, reduced to skin and bone || i can't even tell who you want to know || i'm a goddess on stage, human when we're alone]

Your knees hit the dirt again, falling forward onto your hands as you dry heave. In the blink of an eye, you feel Maimer resting against the apex of your neck.

“Yield.”

Clarisse La Rue has barely broken a sweat during this spar, and yet here you are at her feet feeling like today’s breakfast will make a reappearance on the arena floor. The younger girl rolls her eyes as she pulls you up by the leather strap of your chest plate, sighing at the unnatural pallor of your skin as she flops onto a bench with your dead weight following suit as your knees buckle.

“You know, I knew you said you were bad at this, but are you even trying?” she scoffs, throwing a water bottle at you that you fumble in your hands. Winning never feels as good when the other person isn’t putting up a fight. You gulp down the icy refreshment, shutting your eyes for a moment to escape the blinding sun as you mutter, “Never been a fighter unless necessary, Risse. That’s all you.”

“Alright, enough of this.”

Your eyes wrench open as you lean back on your forearms to look at the daughter of Ares. At thirteen, she’s a force of nature on her own and unlike anyone else at camp, Clarisse would never mince her words for the sake of others’ feelings. You needed someone to tell it to you straight.

“You know everyone can tell when you and Luke fight, right? I mean it rarely happens but when it does it always feels like the world is out of balance until you both fix it.”

You groan, throwing your arm over your face and unintentionally hiding from her. That couldn’t be true—the world does not revolve around whether or not a daughter of Dionysus and a son of Hermes had their shit together.

But Camp Half-Blood does.

“You’re lying, La Rue. It’s really not that deep.”

And then she looks at you like you’re stupid, which might be her customary expression for anyone else but to you—well, she at least respects you. For now, unless you keep whining like a badly written love interest.

“Gods, woman. You were so much cooler back then, what the hell happened to you?”

“Clarisse, it isn’t that easy—-” you grumble, putting your face in your hands as you stare at the dirt. Of course, you know that everyone knows, secrets run through Camp Half-Blood like running water. It slips through your fingers easily, soaking through the ground until everyone’s stuck in the mud. Your boots sink slightly into the softening earth and Clarisse realizes you’re crying before you do. 

Why the fuck are you crying? 

It was a stupid argument and it probably doesn’t mean anything but for once, you don’t know what to do. It feels stupid that your body decided to cry before your brain could come to the conclusion. This all feels so stupid.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry, weirdo,” she mumbles, unsure of what to do with a crying head counselor. Her calloused hands rub small circles into your back, and she can’t help but think you need more girlfriends your age. Scooting closer to you, she says, “What I meant was that you were way cooler when you didn’t give a shit about what people think about you, much less Luke Castellan. You’re starting to sound like you’re from 10, and I swear Sil is the only tolerable person from that cabin. Stop crying, please…”

You sniff, “Ugh… This is so dumb. Just lost myself for a second.” The statement rings true, and it bothers you more than you thought it would. There is so much more to you than playing the part of the agreeable girlfriend, the caretaker, the perfect daughter, that if you stared at yourself in the mirror you might not recognize who’s staring back. So many parts to play, and so little of you left.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is,” Clarisse sighs, “and I’m no good at this feelings shit, but I think you need to remember that you’re allowed to be someone without him…without all of this. And you owe it to yourself to find out who that is.” You look up at her with watery eyes, tucking hair behind your ear as if it’ll help you absorb her words better. 

You can’t believe you’re getting sound advice from a thirteen-year-old, much less a child of Ares on matters of love. 

“It’s nice to be needed,” you mumble, “my greatest honor, I think. But it might also be my downfall.” 

Clarisse smiles crookedly like she’s watching you through a fresh set of eyes. There’ll be no words of this conversation once you leave the arena—the both of you have a friendship unlike most girls here at camp. Never touchy-feely, typical girl talk, but always what you need to hear. 

“How terrifyingly human of you. Yuck.”

“I can’t go on like this,” you groan, slumping further into your folded-over position and she sighs, going to take a sip from her water bottle before squeezing your shoulder.

“That’s what you think.”

[ you took a star to bed, woke up with me instеad || you must have felt so damn decеived when you made up a version of me that you thought you loved || but I am not your Aphrodite ]

When you were fifteen years old and he was just a month shy of it, you had somehow convinced Luke Castellan to run away from camp with you. 

This was back then. Just for a day—just for the tiniest taste of freedom. 

Luke had been at camp for almost a year, and Rye Playland sounded so much cooler than food service with the nymphs—which is one of the few things he would agree with you on. The both of you had kitchen duty for two weeks after getting caught attacking each other during Capture the Flag despite being on the same team, and it ended up with you ripping the fabric off the stick and chucking it into the middle of Canoe Lake. He’s lucky you didn’t lunge for his head, but the game was forfeit, and cabin 6 didn’t talk to you two for weeks because you threw the game. Including Annie, which was a surprising feat in itself.

After that day, you swore to never do anything Luke made himself in charge of and Chiron swore you two would never be on the same team again. You could remember D’s voice that day and how it boomed through the Big House, reminiscent of his father—a crackle of fury and impalpable seriousness that had Luke shaking slack-jawed in the chairs facing the mahogany desk. He’d never been told off by a parent before, much less an Olympian.

Taking it in stride even as the god threatened to turn you both into dolphins, you mimed the conversation when your father’s back turned, copying the odd quirk in D’s brow and conjuring a mouthful of grapes for teeth. You grinned at the son of Hermes like an idiot, a singular ripe sphere shooting out to make an audible thwack against D’s red Hawaiian shirt that made Luke laugh the loudest, ugliest guffaw you’ve ever heard him let out. He choked on his spit when the god jerked his head back to face the both of you like a comic-book villain.

Honestly, he might’ve peed himself a little. Just a tiny bit.

And the god of insanity himself was at his wits’ end—which is rare for him, very few things can get him to that point. Even less so with people. Pathetic, puny, little people he can drive to madness and violent death. 

But not his baby girl—you know every last nerve to step on, a lot like your mother sure, but still all him in every way it mattered. He loved it, even when he was mad at you like this. He just wasn’t good at showing it, and you knew that to some extent. Plus, you can’t take a man in a Hawaiian shirt seriously, much less a god.

So you and your self-proclaimed archnemesis (frenemy, Luke insists) find yourselves running down Farm Road before first light, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind you as you rush to catch the LIRR at a stop two towns over.

It was a small amusement park filled with different money-grabbing oddities, tooth-rotting confections, and rickety, squeaking rides that the conductors could fold into suitcases at the end of the day.

Sketchy, but so much fun. You made Luke go on all the kiddie rides with you and screamed your head off like a lunatic; he apologized to the parents of a toddler and said you had too much sugar—but that was a lie, this was all you in your natural state. Berry chapstick, wind-tousled hair, and a smile brighter than a spotlight. And your laughter, oh, your laughter shook the walls of the funhouse even after you crashed into the fifth mirror being too busy poking fun at the wonder in Luke’s eyes because it was the first time he’s genuinely done something for fun and not out of necessity. It was nice, and so were you, for once.

It was the first time you’d let your guard down for him, he thinks back—watching you toss a ball so badly off target from milk bottles set across the booth. You twisted in his grasp (he doesn’t remember getting so close, Luke still swears he was trying to help you aim) pouting at him with those pretty plum eyes and he sighed so deeply you smelled the cotton candy on his breath. For a moment you wondered if he tasted like it too—and then the worker asked if you’ll be trying again and you went, “Hmm? Maybe he’d be better at it!”

Luke rigged the shot with the snap of his finger, all the milk bottles falling to the ground with a crash and he swore on his life he’d sell out every single one of these stupid games if it gets you to bite your lip at him like that again.

There isn’t a single hint of regret that passed that entire day—you were already in trouble, so you both figured that you might as well enjoy it. By late afternoon, your legs felt like jelly and it felt less like you dragging him around the fairgrounds and more like holding onto him for support (because there’d be no other reason you’d want to hold his hand, your stomach just felt funny…that’s all!) Luke was wolfing down a funnel cake, the powdered sugar dust getting all over his shirt and he looked up to see you staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

Hand pointed in the air, Luke simply shakes his head.

“Fuck no.”

But you always had a way of convincing him to do things (Luke is a sucker susceptible to double dog dares) and the both of you are surprised he let you because sooner rather than later, you’re sat knee to knee in a tiny, screeching Ferris wheel cart that inched 100 feet into the sky. The white paint was peeling at his fingertips and the air was warm—Luke tried to focus on that instead of the fact that he was in a metal death chamber in the sky.

“Never imagined a son of Hermes would be scared of heights,” you grinned, nudging him with your foot. You’ve folded into yourself, hugging your knees as you looked at him and he thought that he might be having a heart attack at the ripe age of fourteen and three-quarters. But the pink and purple rays of the waning sun framed you so nicely that he wished he brought a camera—he had the silly photobooth strips from earlier tucked into his pocket, but you looking like that; Luke had etched it into his memory for safekeeping. Not only was he able to breathe a bit easier, but if there was a memory he could materialize from today—it’d be you grinning maniacally through the bars of the cart, pointing at the city in the distance. 

“We’ve finally found something you’re not good at, golden boy,” you grinned, tilting your head to the side and inspecting him like he was a sad hamster in a glass ball.

“M’not scared of heights, I'm just scared of falling,” he reasoned, looking at the rusted floor. You were making your boots dance along to the beat of the fair music, tapping along to the cyclical rhythm. He was more scared of the lack of control he had at this moment—any of the other crazy rides, Luke had stood at the tiny gate next to the conductor holding the plush avocado he won for you, watching and hearing you scream for joy as the machines flung you into the air. The ones he did go on were relatively tamer, and by the third kiddie coaster, he realized that you probably whooped for joy just to make him feel better.

You kissed him on the cheek that day, so close to his mouth (but not close enough) when the Ferris wheel ultimately screeched to a stop. A necessary distraction, you said—but you weren’t sure for who. He tasted sugar-sweet and smelled like the late summer sun. You had never kissed a boy before, unsure if you’d even know how, or if Luke would even want to if you did.

The thought passed when you realized his fingers were clenched and white-tipped onto the guardrails and you…you’re terrible, so you started rocking back and forth, giggling until he yelled at you to stop, pulling you into his lap. 

The conductor thought you two were doing something way less innocent, and you both got kicked out of Rye Playland afterward—but you got your money’s worth.

Well, you both snuck in and Luke definitely pickpocketed someone’s mom.

All in all, it was a great day.

You fell asleep on his shoulder on the way back home, the Long Island Railroad car chilly with the AC. Watching you drool, he thought he might even like traveling again if it’s for fun like this, might even hate his dad less too. Luke threw his whole dinner into the hearth that night with a bright smile on his face even after Mr. D yelled at the both of you in front of everyone at the dining pavilion. After all, the only factor in his life that’s changed in the past year, an addition, if you must— was you.

[ you took me for a fool, you stole my youth, you wanted this so much || you watched me rise then killed my light || and now you know I'm not your fucking goddess ||  oh, i'm no goddess when i'm alone ]

Work is work.

That’s what you’ve both been telling yourselves throughout an already rough week gone even worse, but trying to avoid your significant other is an especially difficult task when you work together. 

It’s the simple truth—you can’t ignore someone you have to talk to primarily because of these two factors: 1. Capture the Flag teams need to be sorted by Thursday mornings to be ready to play on Friday afternoons, and 2. it is weird for campers to see you two not interacting with each other.

Well, it’s Friday now, and you and Luke haven’t talked since that argument in the barn. 

Kind of, but the times you have didn’t count—the past few days have been both of you talking around other people; not directly to each other. Last night at dinner, Chris stared at you like one does when their parents are thinking of getting a divorce, eyes flickering between you two and his cheeseburger. Luke was sitting next to you on the bench blankly picking the tomatoes off his sandwich and you were staring glumly at your slice of pizza.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

He was one of the few brave enough to be blunt about it. You and Luke were all-consuming, like a black hole. It’s hard for others not to notice the gravitational pull, but when it’s bad…. everyone and everything gets sucked in, whether they like it or not. 

“Lee was excited to hear that your cabin is teaming up with them tomorrow. It’ll be quite interesting, all of you with 7 and 9,” you said, wiping grease off the slice with a napkin. Luke’s head jerked in your direction at your words, “Dude what—Chris! I thought I signed off on working with 6? We don’t work with Apollo for a reason,” he hissed, leaning over the table towards his brother. Chris scratched the back of his neck, knowing Luke was right. Cabin 7 isn’t that good in all matters that involve stealth—the last time they worked with them, Austin was scatting under his breath and it got them ambushed by the red team. Opening his mouth to speak, you quickly interjected, “Well it’s about time to change it up—keeps things exciting, don’t you think, Chris?”

Luke sighed, redirecting his brother’s focus to him, “What do you think, man? I just think when it comes to battle strategies we should stick to what works.” Chris swallowed, raising his hand in the air; he was grappling at the edge of a cliff just trying to hold on to either of you—he looked around to see if there was a way out of this. Next to him, Ethan averted his eyes and played with his carrot sticks.

“Funny how that works for battle strategies and not other things,” you hummed around a mouthful of pizza, “Don’t you think, Chris? I just think that you never want to be predictable in these things. It makes everything boring. Or so I’ve heard,” you munched thoughtfully, daring the son of Hermes to break eye contact with you as Luke scoffed, tossing his napkin onto his plate before standing up. He walked off without a second glance, throwing everything into the hearth—plastic tray included, and stormed off toward the cabins. The rest of the table minded their business, shoveling food into their mouths. Chris choked on a french fry.

And you smirked, satisfied at the small win. 

But now, almost a day later tramping through the sodden dirt of the North Woods in heavy body armor, you remind yourself that it is so very hard to prove a point to Luke Castellan. He finds you halfway through the game as you hold onto the red flag post, standing tall at the vantage point and looking like a stone grotesque protecting the area you’re surveying. By the time you notice, a blur of cobalt whizzes towards you—knocking out the three Ares kids standing guard around the perimeter. You gasp, raising a hand sending vines hurtling toward the air until you see him hanging upside down by the ankles, wrapped in green leaves and purple bunches of grapes. Luke’s headwear falls to the earth with a clang.

“I’m not here for the flag!”

You rush over, dropping the pole and sighing, “Luke…you scared me! I thought you were with Beck today.” The blood rushes to his head as he looks at you all out of focus. Seeing you the other way around gives him a new perspective on things—the epiphany almost makes him ache, but that might also be the pressure pooling in his forehead. You brush your thumb against his cheek before letting him down slowly, and all he does is look at you.

“We need to talk.”

“Like, actually this time?” you mumble, hugging yourself as you watch the vines unravel from his limbs and sink back into the ground. You’ve always been a good actress and Luke was the best liar around—this shared penchant for fabricating the truth used to make you one and the same.

It is more obvious now that actors and liars are wholly different; actors live in an imaginary world given to them, while liars strive to create it for themselves. There’s that saying—don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Luke finds that he’s starting to hate all of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “we can’t keep ignoring this, Trouble.” It takes a special kind of sadness to feel lonely even when you’re with someone. You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your spirit sink into the ground below you, almost resigning yourself to what will happen next. All the petty backtalk, the times you’ve crawled into bed with him already pretending to be asleep— it all comes down to this. There’s this French word that Annie had taught you a few days ago when you spent extra time snuggled up in her bunk, partially to catch up with your favorite girl and partially… to waste more time before going home to him. 

Énouement—-The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future and seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

“Luke…” you start, watching him sheath Backbiter with a casual flick of his hand, “Would you go back if you could? Before…” Barely able to string your words together, he notices your lip quivering, “Did you like me more back then?”

“Baby…” he sighs, going to wrap his arms around you and you hold onto him in return at arm's length.

“I’m really trying…” you choke out, pressing your lips to hold in the onslaught of things you want to say. To understand? To apologize? The words die out on your tongue.

“I know. You’re always trying, Trouble. That might just be the saddest part.”

Wind whirls through your hair, pushing you against him for shelter as you gather your thoughts. In the silence of the woods, you wonder how many moments you’ve spent drawn to him like this for comfort. Luke’s always there for you, whether you like it or not. For better or worse—you wonder if there won’t be a lot of chances to hold and be held, and you can’t seem to let go.

“I didn’t change, okay? I’m still me. People don’t change, just like the gods don’t. I just don’t see us away from this,” you swallow, tracing a finger over his bicep to distract your burning eyes, “we can’t escape who we are Luke. Me and you. Isn’t that enough for now?”

He lets out a sigh and you know his answer; his shoulders sink low enough that your hold on him loosens ever so slightly. At this rate, you think it’d be easier if he’d just pull the trigger—maybe it would hurt less than this.

“I’ll change the gods’ minds and make them agree. They’ll know us, babe. The glory—”

Everything around you blurs as you hone in on your anger. This whole forest could go up in flames and you wouldn’t give a damn,”Oh FUCK glory! Just love me and that’s enough! Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t you stop running from me for once, Luke!” Your plea comes out like a wail and you push him away, feeling disgusted by what’s come of this conversation. You were never a beggar—the only thing left to do was kneel in the dirt and beg him not to break up with you. Before you can think of the irrational thought any further he shakes his head, almost growling, “How do you still not get it? It’s because I love you is why I can’t.”

“Listen, I love you too, babe. I just…don’t know if I like you right now.”

That’s not fair. He’s sacrificing the entire trajectory of his life and you can’t figure out if you like him? You don’t know the lengths he would go to, can’t fathom the obstacles he would conquer just to make sure that you and him have it all. And you’re not even trying to see it his way—to even imagine that he could make it possible.

Things couldn’t stay the same forever, that you could both agree on.

“You’re all talk, you know that, Trouble? You’re just mad that I want this life more than you. And you know I’d actually do what I need to do to get it. Would you?” he nudges you roughly, “Talk to me! This is your time to get it all out of your system. Say that I wouldn’t do anything for you. You know I would.” Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks; he hates watching you cry. It’s the whole reason he signed away his soul—he wants the world you live in to be a place where gods bow down to you and dry your tears, not cause them. Luke would topple Olympus in an instant if it meant you wouldn’t look at him like he’s a lost cause.

“That’s not fair, you haven’t even answered a single question I’ve asked you. It’s like you’re not even listening to me, Lu—”

“Not fair?”

Groaning, you turn away from him. The flag post you dropped earlier is long gone now—the game is still on and the world keeps spinning whether you like it or not. But you’re disinterested in all that now.

“Do you even hear yourself? To you, I’m still the girl on the Ferris wheel,” you sniff, wiping your nose with your sleeve. His hands squeeze your shoulders, begging, pleading for you to understand, “Is that a bad thing? You tell me you haven’t changed—I’m protecting her because you won’t. I’m getting her the hell out of here because I know she deserves more than this. Look around you,” he whispers your name against your neck, “We could forget all of this.” 

But that’s just not who you are. Your shoulders tremble as you hold them up under the pressure. Sure you could see what he’s saying—there isn’t a single future you can imagine without Luke in it. The house, the kids…but more than that you just want to belong somewhere. And Camp Half-Blood is where you belong. With him. 

“I don’t want everything, Luke. I just want you. And if you don’t want this, I need you to tell me now. Because I’m tired,” you warble, digging your nails into your palms, “ and I’m sick of this game. I feel like neither of us are winning.” You take a step back to look at him—sunlight filtering through his hair, eyes wistful and contemplative.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

And there it is. He’s already made his decision, whether he admits it or not. A horn blares overhead, followed by the sounds of cheering. You don’t know who won, and you don’t really give a shit if we’re being real right now. 

“Does it even matter?”

There’s a frozen look on your face like you’ve been struck by lightning, half between a crooked smile and subtle surprise. It’s a knowing look, Luke thinks, what he can see of you through half-lidded lashes and grief. He thinks years from now, if he even makes it that far, it’ll all come back to this moment in the North Woods, and you, the girl he was in love with at nineteen.

“It’s not even worth it now I guess,” he whispers. It makes you laugh—even your laughter sounds sad now. 

It seems that even breaking up with you is an inconvenience.

You sniff, wiping your face and looking around. Everyone’s gone already and Chiron will be looking for you two soon, “Then it’s not worth it. Because you say so… and we’ve got work to do.” Your watch beeps. 

Dinner service starts soon, but before you both head over to the pavilion, you and Luke are expected to set up the bonfire. He nods, loosening the straps of his chestplate, just something to do with his hands, “I know.”

“I don’t want to go. I’m not ready to leave this all behind yet. I’m still needed here.” Until your coming of age ceremony. Until your heart calls you elsewhere and your family can stand on their feet. 

Until then.

Somewhere, you hear Annabeth calling out to you, the melody of both of your names traveling through the trees. You and Luke turn your heads in that direction, before looking at each other once more. He licks his lips, “I know that. We should get back to it, then.” There’s no use doing this all alone, he thinks. And there’s a part of you that thinks there is no use for you when you’re alone.

“We should.”

Neither of you move. 

The winter solstice is tomorrow and there is much work left for the both of you to do.

—

I don’t understand how he grows colder from the same love that warms me. I didn’t know we loved differently—him partly, less and less, and I entirely. - JNH / @shatteredjuvenileday

[thee-horny-thicky]

Worship

A/N: This season has made me simp for both Akaza and Douma, so here's a smutty headcanon thing.

Akaza and Douma cannot stand each other. They’re complete opposites in almost every way, especially when it comes to their treatment of women. Akaza believes them to be untouchable, while Douma thinks that the most delectable flesh comes from beautiful young women.

However, they do have a single thing in common. Both men are huge fans of worshipping their partner’s body, in their own unique ways.

You see, both demon’s ideology steams from their adoration for women. Douma, being an egotistic hedonist, indulges his love for them by devouring their bodies, in my ways than one.

He enjoys making his partner feels good, as it's another way for his ego to be fed. Not only does he like their reactions, but he loves the taste of pussy. Yours in particular. He's a munch, your honor.

Getting a taste of your slick is a daily requirement, and when he's particularly desperate, he'll fall to his knees and pleasure you where you stand.

Given his sadistic streak, he adores blending pain and pleasure together. He’ll tie you up to make sure you can’t run from him, and when he’s feeling particularly cruel, he may blindfold you, so you won’t be able to guess his next move. The one thing he’ll never do, though, is gag you. He adores hearing your noises too much for that. He likes seeing you be pathetic, so he’s a huge fan of edging. He’ll play with you until you’re on the brink of orgasm, then stop his motions until you’re begging for him to let you cum. And once he does, he switches from edging to overstimulation. He’s a demon with stamina a human can only dream of, and he’ll keep going until you’re sobbing for him to stop. Often, you two are at it until the sun is peaking over the horizon.

And if you make him upset, he has an array of paddles and whips to spank you with.

On the flip side, Akaza despises the idea of inflicting pain onto women, making them completely off-limits when it comes to killing. When it comes to sex, he’ll treat you like the most precious thing in the world and draw orgasm after orgasm from you. He has a hard time expressing his emotions, so sex is his way of showing his love for you.

The only way he’ll taste a woman is when he goes down on her, and like any good munch, he’ll be licking and sucking for a while. His favorite way to eat you is when you’re resting on your forearms, ass propped in the air, and pussy on display. It gives him a great view of your glistening folds and throbbing clit, and when your pussy starts to get too sensitive from coming too many times, he’ll allow his tongue to venture to your ass. As taboo as it is, it makes you feel good, which is all he cares about. He doesn’t look like Sukuna for nothing.

Only when you’re well-prepared will he fuck you. He’s inhumanly large, and if you aren’t well-stretched and very lubricated, you have no hope of taking him. He’ll refuse to fuck you if your pussy isn’t dripping with your juices because God forbid that he hurts you.  There’s a reason those pants are baggy.  

Not only is his dick inhumane in size, but in appearance, too. His shaft has bulging veins and ridges that offer you some delicious stimulation. Instead of doming off, his cockhead is more of a pointed tip, providing you with an interesting sensation as he pounds into you. His unique additions make him even harder to take. But though the stretch may be a little painful, once you’re adjusted, he’ll have you drooling and cock drunk in no time ♥️

A/N: I might write a proper threesome with them because I'm down BAD 😩

Update: A year later, and I finally wrote a Douma/Reader/Akaza piece 🤭

[cece693]

Man, I'm obsessed with anything related to vampires and Hannibal & Will. And your Hannigram x Vampire male reader work had me thinking about Alucard from Castlevania, especially from Castlevania Nocturne. I'm daydreaming about it all the time at this point. Here and here. Isn't he just so gorgeous and ethereal? You should watch Castlevania if you haven't seen it before. What I'm saying is, can I have more Hannigram x Vampire reader stuff? I'm daydreaming about Will and Hannibal falling for some who knows how many centuries-old (Alucard was born in 1456 and since Hannibal NBC takes place somewhere around the 2010s, he would be around 554 years old. Man, that's half a millennia) dhampir (half-vampire) with mid-back long, luscious platinum-blonde hair, gorgeous golden eyes and a handsome face. Love your work, by the way, amazing writings❤️

Of Blood and Moonlight

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: your a vampire hybrid, hannigram aren't together yet but will be, I haven't seen the show but he does look beautiful, new obsession perhaps?

You’ve walked among mortals for centuries. Ages have passed, empires risen and fallen, and you have always stood at the outskirts, watching. You are neither fully vampire nor wholly human—a dhampir, caught between two worlds. Some nights, it makes you feel invincible. Others, it leaves you burning with longing.

Tonight, the moon gleams overhead, a quiet silver disc in the sky, as you step along the streets of Baltimore. Your platinum-blonde hair catches the moonlight like spun silver, while your golden eyes are darkened with centuries’ worth of memories. Despite the hush of the city at such a late hour, you sense someone watching. Not an uncommon occurrence, but you can’t help the faint grin tugging at your lips.

He has found you again.

“Are you lost?” comes a soft, cautious voice from behind you.

Turning, you greet the man standing there with a faint nod. Under the lone streetlamp’s glow, you see the tension in Will Graham’s stance. His dark curls seem to frame a gaze that flickers between curiosity and empathy. You know that gaze well, the powerful empathy that draws him to wounded creatures—whether they walk on four legs or two. Or, in your case, something else entirely.

You offer him a slight bow of your head. “No,” you murmur. “Just alone.”

He studies your face. Anyone else might see only a handsome stranger, but Will senses the echo of something deeper—something not quite human. His brows knit gently. “There’s an emptiness around you,” he says, half to himself, half to you. “It’s like…” His words trail off.

You find yourself stepping closer, hair whispering over your shoulders. You speak with a calmness that’s centuries in the making. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Will only half-smiles. “Not sure yet.”

In the hush that follows, there is a faint rustle—another presence stepping out from the darkness. You turn sharply, your heightened senses recognizing this man even before your gaze can land on him. Hannibal Lecter’s refined aura precedes him. He stands just beyond the reach of the streetlamp, wearing a dark overcoat, and in his eyes glimmers a blend of intense curiosity and quiet fascination.

“I see you’ve met Will,” he says with his measured cadence. His voice is smooth, cultured, every syllable perfectly placed. “I’m Hannibal Lecter.”

You simply give him a polite, centuries-old courtesy nod, your own brand of chivalry. “I’m aware,” you say, giving a secretive little smile.

Hannibal inclines his head with intrigue. “You know me?”

“I’ve heard stories,” you murmur. You keep your own secrets well—this is one of the many reasons you have survived so long. You know these two are not ordinary men. One hunts monsters; the other one is a monster in human skin. Yet you sense no threat. In your long existence, you’ve learned that sometimes the most unlikely of bonds can be formed over fascination and darkness.

Your first night at Hannibal’s lavish home is a carefully orchestrated affair. You don’t need an invitation to slip into his world—some unspoken magnetism exists between you three. You come at his request, long hair tied loosely back, golden eyes absorbing the soft glow of the dining room. A single red candle flickers at the center of the table. The scents of rosemary and thyme float through the air. There’s a subtle, rich undercurrent that might disquiet a normal human. To you, it’s enticing. Hannibal’s eyes track your every move, while Will watches with a mix of wariness and longing.

Hannibal, always poised, presents a decadent meal. His skill with cuisine is legendary, and you admire his artistry—even if you have suspicions about certain ingredients. Your golden eyes flick to the plate with mild curiosity, then you raise them to Will and Hannibal. “I don’t typically partake in…human fare,” you say politely, leaning back into the chair. The flickering candlelight dances against your pale features.

Hannibal offers a gracious incline of his head. “No insult taken. I understand if your habits differ.”

Will’s mouth quirks at one corner. “You can tell us about yourself instead.”

They watch your every breath as you trace a fingertip around the lip of your wine glass. You let the tension wind in the air, enjoying their rapt attention. “I have existed for many years,” you begin. “Centuries, if you will. Time has a way of dulling the senses, which is why I search for new experiences…” Your eyes flash gold. “And interesting company.” There’s a flutter in Will’s chest. He can’t hide it; you hear the slight hitch in his breath. Hannibal’s eyes reveal satisfaction, his curiosity mounting.

It’s Will who first breaks down the walls. Over the following weeks, you find yourself drawn to him—his empathy, his vulnerability, his unwavering desire to understand even the darkest parts of others. On more than one occasion, you and Will take late-night walks through the woods behind his house. He confides in you the weight of nightmares, of feeling too deeply. You softly explain that time dulls certain pains, but your ancient heart remains capable of new scars.

One evening, the moon is bright overhead, silver illuminating every strand of your platinum hair, your golden eyes gleaming. Will suddenly stops, turning to face you. “How do you stand it?” he asks, voice thick with emotion. “How do you bear seeing so much and going on forever?”

You tilt your head. You’ve asked yourself the same question countless times. “I survive by allowing myself to savor the rare beauties of the world—like quiet nights, moonlit forests,” you say, stepping closer. You can almost hear the rush of blood in his veins, and your fangs ache. “And souls that fascinate me.”

His cheeks flush, not from fear, but from a sense of closeness he’s never quite felt with anyone else. A heartbeat passes, and he lunges forward, pressing his lips to yours. It’s a sudden, urgent kiss. You respond in kind, centuries of loneliness dissolving in the warmth that is Will Graham’s humanity.

Hannibal Lecter is different. Where Will is stormy and turbulent with empathy, Hannibal is cold fire, methodical in his pursuit of what intrigues him. His interest in you has grown with every meeting. You catch the traces of desire in the way his dark eyes slide over your face, your hair, your body. He is unflinching.

One evening, you accept another invitation to his home. You arrive just as a violin concerto plays softly on his stereo. He bids you to follow him to his parlor, where two glasses of deep burgundy wine await. “I took the liberty of procuring something special,” he says, handing you a wine glass filled with a liquid that is not wine. You inhale the scent—thick, coppery. It’s fresh blood, carefully warmed, laced with delicate notes of something akin to sweet spice. Your centuries-honed senses reel.

He sits across from you, elbows on his knees, studying your reaction. His voice is low. “I trust it meets your needs.”

Your eyes narrow slightly. “You toy with danger, Dr. Lecter.”

A hint of a smile crosses his face. “Danger is so often misunderstood. I prefer to consider it an exploration.” You sip—carefully, indulgently—and you feel his dark gaze track every movement of your throat. It is an intimate, visceral moment. The air thickens with unspoken tension.

In the hush, you lock eyes with him. “And what do you want to discover?”

Hannibal sets his wine aside, rising to stand before you. He tilts your chin upward with clinical gentleness, the pressure of his fingertips both polite and possessive. “Whether something as timeless as you can feel obsession or even love.” You let him bend to kiss you, a languorous brush of lips that tastes of fine wine and predatory indulgence. Like a snake around its prey, but you—oh, you are no helpless creature. You return the kiss with equal fervor, letting him sense the centuries of want coiled behind your restraint.

In time, you find yourself often in the quiet presence of both Hannibal and Will. They form a precarious balance—Will’s empathy bridging the darkness, Hannibal’s refined cruelty tempered by genuine fascination. They both watch you with desires they are only just beginning to articulate.

Will’s eyes shift from Hannibal to you. “It’s strange,” he admits one night after dinner, a meal that you’ve politely observed but not partaken in. “How could we…share this?”

Hannibal levels a gaze at Will. “Do you think we can’t?” His gaze drifts to you. “Is it not possible to crave more than one kind of beauty?”

You say nothing at first, letting them speak. In your centuries, you’ve known all varieties of hunger, passion, and love. Humans have so many rules, so many limitations. But Hannibal has broken them, and Will has shattered them in his need for connection. Leaning forward, you entwine your fingers with Will’s, and with your free hand, you brush a pale strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve lived so long, I’ve learned that hearts can hold multitudes.”

Will’s breathing quickens, his cheeks flushing. You sense Hannibal’s pulse, steady yet heavier, as he slips behind you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. For a moment, you close your golden eyes and let the swirl of your centuries melt into the present—this closeness, this strange connection.

The nights that follow blur into a tapestry of music, whispered confessions, and clandestine hunts through the city’s shadows. Sometimes you walk with Will beneath the stars, the hush of midnight an unspoken promise of safety. Other times, Hannibal lures you into hushed corners of his home, drawing you into sharp-edged kisses.

You’ve never belonged to anyone—nor have they. Yet you discover a kind of belonging here that is both enthralling and perilous. Hannibal’s presence is a constant danger, and Will’s precarious grip on his own self flickers daily. But for you, who’ve roamed centuries alone, this dual dance of desire is the most alive you’ve felt in ages. They see you as both a riddle and a comfort. They see your beauty—and your deadly potential. You are not monstrous to them; you are mesmerizing, as they are to you.

One late hour, the three of you gather in Hannibal’s drawing room. Crimson curtains filter the moonlight, casting the space in deep shadows. You stand between them—Will on your left, Hannibal on your right—each with an arm around your waist, their breaths close, hearts beating to different tempos yet syncing in one intangible thread of belonging.

“You’ve survived so long,” Will murmurs, pressing a cautious kiss to your neck, “will we be enough to keep you from drifting away?”

Hannibal’s voice flows smoothly, low and intimate. “Or will you watch us wither as the centuries continue on?”

Your lips curve into a wistful smile. “I cannot stop time, nor change the nature of my being.” You lower your gaze, hair drifting forward like a pale curtain, before lifting your eyes to them both—golden irises filled with an ancient warmth. “But I’ve learned that each moment we grasp is ours alone. What’s important is not how long it lasts, but that we truly live it.” Hannibal’s hand tightens at your waist, a promise if ever there was one. Will hides his face in your neck, his empathy bridging the eternity between you.

[mas-o-kissed]

(Mind control, dubious consent, public)

You receive an invitation to a party from an unknown sender. It’s strange, but you’re intrigued enough that you decide to attend.

The party is in a huge house, and you recognize a few of the other guests— acquaintances and coworkers you don’t know very well. After an hour of music, food, and curious chatter, the host of the party finally reveals himself: he is tall, mysterious, beautiful. But something about him feels off. He seems unnatural somehow.

You observe him, moving about the party, mingling with the guests, but after a short while you notice something strange. Each time he talks to someone, they seem to get much more comfortable. Too comfortable. Their faces flush. They seem unsteady on their feet. It’s like they’re getting drunk just by talking to him, but it’s not just that. One by one, the other guests seem to be unable to keep their hands off each other.

It dawns on you quickly. The host is a demon of lust. As he talks to the guests, he lowers their inhibitions. Makes them horny. Makes them desperate.

And the display is getting out of hand. You see your usually shy coworker on his knees in the living room, nuzzling into a stranger’s bulge. A woman you met briefly through a group of friends who seemed quite modest at the time is pulling off her clothes, a trance-like expression on her face.

“Hey, cutie~” it’s a guy you remember from some college courses you took years ago. He almost stumbles into you, a pink liquor sloshing in the glass in his hand. “Lissten,” he slurs, not noticing your trepidation, “I always thought you were soooo smart.” He’s playing with your collar, “it would really turn me on to see you get dumb for me.”

You brush him away, waving a hand in front of his eyes. He only gazes back at you placidly as you whisper-shout to avoid getting the demon’s attention, “The host is doing something to us. Wake up!”

“You wanna sip, cutie?” He pushes the drink in your face. Just the sweet, strong smell of it makes your head spin.

When you blink through the fog, you look up and see that the host is looking at you. He winks.

“Where ya going, sweetie?” The man with the drink calls after you as you head for the exit.

You can feel the host’s eyes on you. Moving closer. You reach for the door. Locked, of course. You look around for help, but all around you the other guests are trapped in their own dreams. Kissing, and rubbing, biting and hurting one another. All in the name of pleasure.

“Are you enjoying the party?” A deep voice behind you. How did he sneak up on you so fast?

You look up at him, your stomach dropping, face getting red. “What are you doing to us?”

“Just having a little fun.” He grins. His teeth are sharp, “There isn’t a single human here who doesn’t need this. You, especially.” He cradles your chin in his fingers. You feel your head getting light. Fuck, he’s got you.

You fight the fog, the arousal flowing through you, “Will I remember this?”

“Oh darling, everyone will.”

“Please. I don’t want to… embarrass myself.”

He laughs, “Oh, you poor thing.” The arousal is starting to cloud your thoughts. You feel it taking you over.

You try to protest again but all that comes out of your mouth is a hitched moan.

“You won’t be able to help but embarrass yourself, baby. That’s why I chose you. It’s just so much fun to watch.”

When did you drop to your knees? When did he put this collar around your throat?

“Now go ahead. Embarrass yourself for me.”

[konpeitonom]

heh.... hey! this is my first request im terrified,, sebian lex with anya PLS (if u want💔) like like uhhh she tops you for the first time???? IM SORRY😭😭

first time with anya.

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader —

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; no need to be nervous anon i am a fellow girl lover… i love lesbians and i love anya this is perfect You requested this 3 hours ago as of me writing this sorry if i look like crazy person. first time with her/ but also general nsfw headcanons!

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

— despite what we see of her in-game, she’s a very capable lady.. similar to curly, i think she’s a service top! and very gentle, but especially for your first time..

— praises you.. calls you sweet names, says you’re ‘easy on my eyes’, and very pretty.. however she tries to avoid doing too much with compliments regarding your appearance. she never wants you to think that’s all she cares about.

— would hold your hand as she eats you out.. the other probably fingering you gently as she does! i think that’d have to be her favorite way to please you. she loves placing kisses on most sensitive places, hearing your soft moans..

— she’s a lady too so she knows the best places to touch, how to make you feel good! would ask if you wanted her to do anything specific, doesn’t like to assume.

— likes to give you hickeys in places where only she could see. between your thighs, or maybe somewhere on your stomach, hips.. she thinks it’s more intimate. that only she knows that it’s there.

— maybe semi-body worship? maybe i’m just on a body worship kick but she would ogle at your chest. she just thinks they're so pretty! would rub and tease your nipples, but she’s gentle with it..

— she’d hold them while kissing you.. mostly because she thinks the noises you make are just too cute.. and the way they interrupt your little make out session..

— she likes to kiss a lot during sex, says she wants you to taste yourself- because you taste that good. she’d remind you over and over of that fact.

— thinks lingerie is pretty, but not needed. for your first time, she wants to see all of you. the human body is very beautiful but especially her girlfriends.. but later on i don’t think she minds some pretty blue lace.

— she’d want you to ride her thigh. but only if you want too and have the energy for that. like i’ve said- she prefers to be the one to please her partner, but how could she deny it when you’re making a mess all over her?

— describes the sounds you make as you ride her as ‘dream-like’. just so pretty. would place her hands on your hips, telling you to slow down! you’re gonna hurt yourself..

— loves when you’re all satisfied and happy, laying down on your back as you try and catch your breath. that flushed face of yours.. the view is enough to make her cum, honestly.

[visionsofmagic]

◜ mk1 men using their powers while f*cking you ◞

▸ includes: reptile, sub zero, scorpion [mk1 versions] ◂

▸ tags: nsfw content, explicit language, inappropriate usage of power/abilities, f!reader, kind of drabble, short, canon as possible as I can, licking, watching, petnames, fingering, edging, human form!syzoth, rude and sharp!sub zero, lover!mk1 characters, brat!reader, heat, cold. enjoy! ◂

▸ notes: watched 4+ hours cutscenes of mortal kombat 1 game and well, kind of fall in love with 80% of mk1 characters, so, couldn't help but write for a few of my fav characters from the game. requests open for the mk1 characters as well & have fun while reading, thank u! ^^ [can publish part 2 of this if you would like too!]

REPTILE is a shy lover. he finds himself trying to hide his nature whenever you two have sex not to hurt you because he knows you’re still fragile even though you try to believe otherwise. he never transforms into his reptile form while fucking you, so hard for him to do that but he would rather endure than hurting you in any way. however, that doesn’t mean he lacks fun and any sort of kinks in sex, no, contrary to that, syzoth has a kinky personality that allows him to like watching you, both as general and in bed - he can’t help, especially not when you’re so beautiful leaning on the bed you two are sharing, trying to give yourself pleasure with your fingers while screaming his name because he is away for a mission as you still believe - not knowing when he will return but here he is, standing right in front of you, watching how your fingers disappear inside your folds, going in and out, mouth agape, moaning his name over and over again as if they’re his fingers - or even his cock inside your walls. he likes how you miss him enough to do all of these. 

invisible to your eyes, he watches you until he’s sure you’re so close to the edge, then, chuckling teasingly, he appears slowly, giving you a heart attack right there but you forget all about it when his fingers replace yours, smirking like a brat, green eyes position on your pretty face as he looks at you fondly. 

“you’re so needy for me that you can’t wait for a few hours until I return, is that it, pretty?” he chuckles, head tilting and he listens to your pleases like they’re the prettiest sound he has ever heard. he makes you cum, more than once because he says, “if that is the case, I will fuck my pretty girl so deep that she will never forget it even when I leave.” 

SUB ZERO is not gentle at all when it comes to having sex with him. he prefers to make you remember who you belong to, whose name you’re screaming, and who makes your legs shake in weakness because he fucks you that good. he doesn’t think about what a kink is in detail but he knows he has a few and he uses them with you without hesitation. you like them as he understands from the voices you make, the expressions your face has, and cumming all over him without announcing because you can’t hold them any longer.

he knows he shouldn’t use any of his abilities while fucking you but he can’t help. he breaks his discipline side and uses them anyway from time to time while having sex with you; decreasing his body temperature when he fucks you behind, kneeling down until your naked back touches his bare chest so that you get close to cum, feeling a sense of chill.

he does that with some parts of his body either; his fingers when they travel on your body, in your mouth, between your thighs and holes - the tip of his tongue when it enters your pussy, making you lose your mind. he even changes its temperature from time to time only to earn the sounds you can't think you're making. he doesn't stop with his attempts of fucking you 'till you have a non-functional brain because of only him - his thick cock, the way he fucks you into oblivion and not holding himself back from using his abilities to his advantage to make you realize only he can fuck you like this. he's fond of your screams after all, begs that want him to stop because it's too much for you to handle go to deaf ears - not even when it's as cold as under a frozen surface of a deep sea.

"so cold, huh?" scoffs, humiliating your pathetic condition, "what were you thinking anyway whore?" he asks, poison in his voice, deep. "think that I would hold back because you beg so nicely?" laughs, holds your hair tightly as he fucks you from behind. "they're only praying for me to go deeper, my pretty slut." and he does - going deeper and colder each passing time and you only can take it all - you're his own pet to enjoy in the end.

SCORPION is a cute lover. he doesn't hurt you in any way as possible as he can, protecting you at all cost, keeping his fire at a minimum level whenever you're around - except while fighting of course. he never uses his abilities against you but oh, he can't deny that he loves it when you are a total brat, asking him to do such naughty things in bed, including using his fire to make intimate sessions more intense than it is needed - you both need it as you say, believing you can endure it and in the end, he accepts your pleases, allowing himself adjoining a few things he can do without hurting you.

firstly, he just uses it on his tongue when it enters your wet pussy, licking from your inner thighs to inside, giving you euphoria. he makes sure not to burn you, enjoying by himself too after seeing how turned on you are in these moments. he is a man who wants to please his lover more than himself in the first place - a gentleman. then, it begins with these simple pleasure times - it evolves into something that even you can't imagine happening and it takes you a long time to realize how scorpion has begun to his abilities on you in order to turn you on often; the cute lover discovers how you're affected by heat - in general, so, he thinks a way to make your heat go up without noticing he's the one who is doing it by increasing his body's heat as he comes near you, giving you hotness you can't ignore and start taking off your clothes one by one.

of course he acts innocent, asking how he can help you, and then smirking, saying how he makes you hot by just standing beside you. catching you in a trap with all his desires to have you, he reaches his plan's top point when you have a sports bra and shorts on your body and nothing else. oh, how he feels a kind of achievement when you agree with him, being naked and having one of the best fucking in your entire life to get rid of your heat after getting horny because of being exposed in front of the man you love. 

"my love, you give me a heat even my own power can't give; you have no idea how I am burning for you." he smiles down at you, eyes burning with sparkles of fire, "oh - beautiful, the most beautiful thing in the whole universe I have ever seen. let me burn you the way you are doing to me, my love."

[thedemonsnightmare]

Helloo, idk if you take requests or not but can you make a post where mc spends most of their time with a friend? (With a girl more like.)

And the brothers are getting lonely and jealous?

I love your works🥲🙏

I am happy you like my work, I take requests so I hope you like the finished post

Lucifer-

At first he didn't really care because he was busy but after some time he started missing how you pulled him away from work when he started to overwork himself so he went to figure out why you didn't visit him as often as before as he saw you with your friend he was felling insulted and jealous that you rather spend time with a friend than with him. HE was the one you should spend the most time with. Lucifer is happy if you spend time with other people than him but not if you started ignoring him or not spend any time with him. He came over looking at you seriously and crossing his arms. You don’t even notice but your friend does looking at Lucifer who just lays his hand onto your shoulder making you turn around. He leans forward looking at you. "Why are you not visiting me?", he asks you with a pissed face but then he pulls you into his arms kissing you loving. "You're supposed to visit me too, you know?"

Mammon-

He immediately gets lonely and as he finds out that you aren’t spending time with him because of a friend he gets super pouty. He can’t believe that he is being ignored over some friend of yours so he comes over stepping in front of you staring at you annoyed. "How dare you human ignore the great Mammon?!“, he asks you angrily before starting to whine. "You’re supposed to love me! I want attention too!", he says in his whiny tone clearly desperate for love and he will not stop whining for love until you give him all the love he wants. None of your friends can ever steal from him you ever!

Leviathan-

He doesn’t only get lonely but also anxious. Isn’t he enough anymore? Do you like your friend so much more than him that you stopped caring? He will gently knock on your door in he evening and when you open it will be evident how close he is to crying. He will ask you:" Why did you not visit me? I am lonely! Do you hate me… am I boring…?" If you hug him and say that you don’t find him boring and especially do not hate him, he will wrap his arms around you tightly not letting go for a eternity sniffling into your shoulder before withdrawing looking at you sad. "Can you stay over?", he will ask and if you agree he will pull you into his room where you won’t escape him holding you in his arms the whole night and just need to enjoy the time you two spend together so close doing fun stuff.

Satan-

Satan gets SO fricking jealous when finding out that you rather spend time with a friend than with him. You were supposed to love him! Spending time with friends is fine as long as you don’t stop spending time with him and you definitely are overdoing it! He will get so pissed that he turns into his demon form running over to where you are. Everyone that sees him will run because of how he looks. When he reaches you he will angrily grab you asking you what you‘ve been thinking when you stopped spending time with him. He will carry you to his room where he will tell you that you are supposed to spend time with him once in a while because he loves you and you are supposed to spend time with him atleast once a week though he would love if you’d spend even more time with him.

Asmodeus-

He gets lonely when you start spending more time with your friend than him. He can’t understand why you would rather spend time with your friend than him! He is beautiful after all! He can’t help but miss you and kept whining to Solomon about that the whole time until Solomon was so annoyed pulling Asmodeus towards you forcing him to admit how he is feeling about how you act. When Asmodeus does that he hugs you tightly telling you that he doesn’t want you to spend such a small amount of time with him and starting to get lonely. He will be like super honestly and then ask for touch and kisses.

Beelzebub-

He starts noticing how you are missing quite fast starting to crave for you. So Beelzebub comes to you and your friend looking at you clearly wanting more attention. "I'd like to eat something with you this evening!", he says before leaving. He will awaited you in his room. When you come over you two will start eating while Beelzebub will tell you how much he missed you.

Belphegor-

Of course he misses you but he especially misses you cuddling with him. It’s not the same when you’re not around but with a friend and it makes him feel sad and lonely so he comes over to you demanding a rule where you must spend time with him at least once an evening because he is lonely and craves your touch. He will beg you to agree because he needs your attention.

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

story masterlist | next

You awaken.

It's a strange feeling, to go from complete darkness to a world of bright, shining artificial lights. The sudden exposure sends your senses into overdrive and causes you to blink repeatedly, to the point that your eyes start watering. 

“...I can’t believe it,” you hear someone mumble. “It actually worked. I’m a genius!”  

There’s a man in front of you. He’s got a bushy mustache and a pair of distinct, thick-rimmed goggles that prevent you from seeing into his eyes clearly. An elderly man, although it’s hard to tell his exact age. The only other noteworthy thing about him is that he’s wearing a white lab coat. 

And based on how widely he’s grinning, he seems to be rather pleased about something.  

He quickly clears his throat. “Ahem. I suppose I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. I need to test all your senses first. You can hear me, I’m assuming? You’re certainly reacting to visual stimuli, like the light shining in your eyes. If you can hear me and understand what I’m saying, nod your head once.”  

At first, you just blink, still disoriented and confused, but soon enough, his words sink in. 

You nod, and the man—Dr. Garaki—seems even more pleased than he was just a few seconds ago.  

“Excellent!” he exclaims, and you watch as he scribbles something down onto a clipboard. “Language comprehension is working just fine too. Although now it’s time for the real test. Listen closely, please. I’ve decided I want to call you [Name]. Can you try saying that? Try saying your name for me, little one.” 

You stare at him for a few moments, and even though you understand what he’s asking of you, it still takes a while for your mouth to move the way you want it to.  

But eventually, you succeed.  

“[N-Name],” you repeat, sounding a bit uncertain at first. You knit your brows together and try again, and this time, it’s far less shaky. “[Name].” 

“Oh, marvelous!” Dr. Garaki praises. He even claps his hands together, incapable of hiding his excitement. “Yes, what a truly wonderful job! Well done. It suits you, too. I really have a knack when it comes to naming my creations.”  

He doesn’t ask you to say anything else, so you sit perfectly still, just staring at him. However, you’ve just learned something. You have a name. 

For some reason, it makes your heart clench, and you’re not quite sure how to describe what you’re feeling.  

Perhaps that’s another thing you have yet to learn.  

“You really are a masterful, prodigal creation,” Dr. Garaki says, stroking his mustache. “It’s incredible. All of your senses appear to be fully functional, and not only that, but you can understand things and communicate, just like a real human would. I always thought that creating Nomus would be the greatest exploit of my career, and I failed so many times before when I tried to artificially engineer a human without a corpse as a base... but you managed to surpass all my expectations. Perhaps I should call you my little miracle.” 

You don’t understand what he’s trying to say, but once again, he seems rather pleased.  

“Best of all is your appearance,” he continues, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Just looking at you, everyone would assume you’re an ordinary little girl! I truly have outdone myself this time around. The Nomus are beautiful in their own way, but you are a carbon copy of the human race. A perfect replication.”  

This man sure likes to talk a lot. Or maybe he talks a perfectly normal amount, but you just don’t have any other frame of reference to compare it to.  

Dr. Garaki steps closer to you and smiles. “Now, then. I still have some tests to finish running, so be a good girl and sit still. Don’t worry. It’ll only take a moment.” 

You don’t really have any idea of what’s normal or not, which is why you don’t move a single muscle as he straps your limbs down to the chair and makes sure to tighten the fastenings shut, so that you can’t break free.  

You are ignorant. You can’t possibly know any better. So, when Dr. Garaki inches towards you, gripping a scalpel between his fingers, all you do is stare at him quietly.  

And then there’s just pain.  

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you scream out at the top of your lungs as Dr. Garaki slices into your flesh, showing zero remorse.  

You’ve only ever spoken your name, so you’re not quite sure what to say to get him to stop, but eventually, the words bubble up to the surface.  

“S-Stop... stop it! It... hurts...” 

“Oh-ho!” he muses. “Already assembling sentences on your own, I see. You register pain just like a normal human would too. It’s truly splendid!”  

Despite your outcry, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even bother to apologize. He just keeps carving you up, ignoring all of your tortured, anguished screams, as well as the look of sheer desperation on your face.  

It feels like you’re about to die. You’ve only known what it’s like to live for a few brief moments, and already, it’s going to be taken from you.  

All this pain, all of this blood... and yet, you still haven’t died yet.  

Why?  

“Ah-ha!” Dr. Garaki exclaims. He steps back and grins cruelly. “It took a while for your body to respond, but there it is! The regeneration is finally kicking in. For a moment, I was worried I hadn’t transplanted the Quirk correctly. Thank goodness everything is in order.” 

He finally stops. You let out a shuddering breath, and you’re suddenly aware of a damp feeling on your cheeks, as well as the fact that your vision is blurry.  

Oh. You must be crying.  

“No need for tears, little one,” Dr. Garaki reassures. “Go on, take a look. Your body is repairing itself as we speak. Everything is going to be just fine.”  

He’s right. Just a few moments ago, you were in so much pain that it felt like you would cease to exist, but now you watch as your bloody, mutilated skin pieces itself back together, until you’re practically brand new. 

The injuries are gone, and so is the pain.  

Dr. Garaki smiles. “See? There’s no reason to be afraid. I’ve made you durable. An incredible creation you may very well be, but you’re of no use to me if you break right away.”  

Something about what he just said doesn’t exactly sit right with you. A voice in your head is telling you to trust this man and listen to everything he says. To follow all of his orders without fail and carry out his ambitions.  

But another voice in your head—admittedly, a much smaller one—is telling you the exact opposite.  

And for some reason, that’s the voice you choose to listen to.  

“It hurt,” you mutter accusingly. “I asked you... to stop.”  

Dr. Garaki frowns, clearly bewildered. “Hm? You sure are becoming increasingly talkative. You must be absorbing information even faster than I thought you would. But like I said, you’re fine. You can handle far more damage than this. Trust me. You can always trust me, alright?”  

No. You get the feeling that you shouldn’t trust him. You shouldn’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth, and if you stay here, there’s a very good chance that he’ll hurt you again.  

So, the solution is obvious.  

You need to leave.  

“I’m leaving,” you declare. Dr. Garaki proceeds to stare at you in disbelief, and he even sets his clipboard aside so that he can give you his undivided attention.  

“You’re not leaving,” he frowns. “And why would you want to leave? I’m your creator. I brought you to life. I engineered you specifically so that you would serve me and obey my commands, and you say you want to leave? How does any of that make sense? Is it possible I made a mistake somewhere...?”  

He scratches his mustache, unable to make sense of the situation. Even now, there’s still that irritating voice that’s telling you to obey, but you grit your teeth and fight against it, refusing to succumb to the pressure.  

And then you feel it. Something wells up from deep inside you, and as you stare down at the infuriating bindings that are tying you down to the chair, you suddenly realize: Oh. I can break these. 

So, you do.  

“...what in the world?!”  

Dr. Garaki lets out a squeal as you break free of the restraints and kick the chair to the side. He instinctively reaches for the scalpel, then points it towards you, most likely as an act of self-defense.  

Unfortunately, seeing that bloody scalpel again elicits painful memories, and it makes you really, really angry.  

You feel it again. It’s as if something is bubbling up inside of you, desperately seeking release. It pulses and flows, moving through your body in the form of energy. Power. Strength.  

“You’re out of your mind!” Dr. Garaki screams. “You’re supposed to listen to everything I say! What’s wrong with you?! You’re a faulty product! You're damaged goods! Now, sit back down and stay put before I—”  

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. You swing your arm out, and he should be thanking his lucky stars that he managed to jump away in time.  

Destruction unfolds. You’re not quite sure what you did, but you made sure to channel all the strength you could muster, and now the room you’re in—which upon closer inspection, is some kind of lab—has practically been torn to shreds.  

Dr. Garaki is trapped underneath a pile of rubble, and he whimpers helplessly. “I-I don’t understand. The only Quirk I gave you... was the ability to regenerate. Is this... some kind of mutation? But how did it...”  

He passes out, either from shock, pain, or some combination of the two.  

It’s then that you spot a hole in the wall that must have formed when you unleashed your attack earlier. It’s quite small, but you’re fairly small too, so there’s a good chance you’ll fit.  

You drop to your knees and crawl. It’s a snug fit, but you manage to wiggle your way through, and after a brief patch of darkness, you emerge on the other side.  

A bright sky greets you. It’s sunny and warm, and you decide that you quite like this feeling. It’s certainly far more pleasant than being inside the lab, with its murky scent and unnatural lights. It seems as though your decision to leave was the right one after all.  

You clench your hand into a fist. That strange burst of energy you felt earlier is completely gone. You must have used up all your strength. But it’s okay. You’re free now.  

You’re free, and you will discover all that life has to offer.

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[tortillamastersblog]

✐ Only Human | Kara Danvers ✎

Pairing: Kara Danvers x reader

Warnings: minor injuries, mentions of blood

Summary: Proposing to Kara doesn’t go quite as planned because in all her excitement she forgets you’re only human. . .

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Midvale is a beautiful town. The pine trees along the road are a luscious green and the few lakes I’ve spotted here and there on my drive glitter invitingly in the late summer sun.

I turn down another empty road and take a deep breath of the salty ocean air. I have the window rolled down and the radio turned up, smiling from ear to ear at the prospect of seeing Kara and her family again.

We’re taking some time off from work and superhero-ing and decided staying at Eliza’s would be the best way to relax and reconnect with each other and the rest of the Danvers family.

Things have been busy lately, especially at my job because I’m up for a promotion, which is also why I didn’t drive here with Alex and Kelly two days ago.

Kara flew, getting Alex and Kelly to take her bags with them.

I continue driving a couple more minutes, humming to the song on the radio until Eliza’s familiar beach house comes into view.

The sun has just gone down which leaves a faint orange hue across the sky and I smile when I see the lights turned on inside the house.

I pull into the driveway, turn off the car and roll up the windows before getting out and rounding the car to get my bag from the trunk.

“You made it!”

Alex’s voice makes me look up and I smile instantly when my eyes land on her standing in the open doorway with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Alex!” I beam and jog up the stairs to the door to pull her into a tight hug. “I missed you.”

Alex squeezes me with one arm and holds her wineglass away from our bodies with the other, pulling back with a smile of her own. “I missed you, too. Did you get everything you need?”

I nod and hold up my bag for reference, feeling nerves bubble up in the pit of my stomach at the thought of the small velvet box stuffed between my shirts.

You see, being stuck at work wasn’t the only reason I didn’t take Alex and Kelly up on their offer of carpooling. My jeweler called me the day before we were supposed to leave and told me there had been some delay on the ring I commissioned.

So, I had no other choice but to postpone my departure and because Alex didn’t buy my half-lie of being stuck at work a little while longer I came clean and told her all about my plans of proposing.

She was ecstatic, going on a rant about how my idea of doing it on the beach was perfect and how happy she was for Kara for having someone like me.

“Perfect. Now, come on in. We finished dinner a while ago, but there’s still some leftovers in the kitchen.” She offers to take my bag up to Kara’s childhood bedroom and I accept with an embarrassed smile when my stomach grumbles loudly.

“Y/N!”

Kelly is the first to notice me when I step into the living room. She just came in from the porch outside where Eliza and Kara are sitting on cushioned Adirondack chairs wrapped in throw blankets.

“Hi. It’s good to see you again,” I say with a smile, accepting the gentle hug she pulls me into. “How have you been? How’s work?”

“I’ve been great. Work is. . . Well, it’s work, what can I say?” she laughs before adding, “But I do love my job, so there’s really not that much I can complain about. How are you? I heard you’re up for a promotion.”

“I’m good, and yeah I am up for a promotion, but my boss said—“

A shriek makes my head whip around and I only see a flash of blonde hair before my favorite person launches herself into my arms, sending me stumbling backward. “My baby!”

I laugh breathlessly and grab the kitchen counter to regain my balance. “Jesus. . .”

The blonde wraps her legs around my waist and peppers my face with kisses. “Not Jesus, just Kara.”

I smile incredulously and glance at Kelly for some kind of explanation as to why Kara’s acting like this, but the older woman just shrugs and watches the scene unfold in front of her with a fond look in her eyes.

“What on Earth has gotten into you, my love?” I chuckle and squeeze the back of Kara’s thighs to get her to look at me.

Her blue eyes shine with love and I’m almost convinced she’s simply happy to see me but then she kisses me and I’m met with the taste of alien liquor on her lips. “N’thing,” she slurs with a dopey grin. “‘M jus’ happy to see you.”

“Mhmm, I can tell,” I tease which makes her frown comically.

“Hey, don’t be mean.” She pouts, but I’m quick to kiss it away with a couple of pecks.

“There. Better?” I ask and she nods, draping her arms loosely around my shoulders before unwrapping her legs from around my waist. I let her slide down my body and tuck her hair behind her ears.

“Much, thank you.” She leans into my touch and closes her eyes briefly before looking up at me with an adoring, yet slightly drunk look on her face.

It makes my insides melt and I can’t help but dip my head down to press another kiss to her lips, savoring the way my lips tingle at the contact before whispering, “Hello, darling. How are you?”

Kara tightens her arms around my shoulders and hides her face against the side of my neck. “Perfect now that you’re her.”

She sounds surprisingly sober which means that the effects of the alien liquor must already be wearing off. It gets her drunk pretty quickly but because of her fast metabolism it also gets absorbed easily, making the high intense but short-lived.

I kiss the top of her head, another smile growing on my face when I catch Eliza’s eyes outside. She smiles and waves at me, mouthing a “hi!”, just as my stomach growls again.

“Have you had something to eat yet?” Kara pulls back to look at me.

I shake my head. “Not yet, but Alex said something about leftovers?”

Kara goes to answer but Kelly beats her to it. “Why don’t you head outside and I’ll get you some? I was heading to the kitchen anyway to grab a glass of water.”

“Oh that’s nice, but I can—“

“Thanks, Kelly!” Kara interrupts cheerfully and tugs on my hand to lead me onto the porch.

I chuckle and look over my shoulder to thank Kelly before greeting Eliza properly.

She hugs me, asking about the drive here before Kara tugs on my hand again, pulling me onto the chair she occupied earlier and plopping down on my lap.

The view of the ocean is spectacular as the last hues of orange disappear to make way for the starry night sky.

I get lost in the sight for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Kara snuggled up against me as she chats with Eliza until Kelly returns with a steaming bowl of food and a glass of water.

She hands me the bowl and puts the glass down on the small table in the middle of the chairs and returns to her own seat.

Kara shifts so I can eat with her still in my arms and continues talking to her mom and Kelly.

Alex joins us a second later, taking a seat on the chair next to her wife’s and chimes in on the current conversation which I’m not particularly paying attention to.

I’m tired from driving and simply focus on the kryptonian warmth Kara is emitting and eating Eliza’s delicious chilly until the bowl is empty and my eyelids are drooping.

“You tired?” Kara whispers when I try to stifle a yawn. She sounds and looks completely sober now, playing with the collar of my shirt absentmindedly.

“Yeah, and I’d really like to shower before bed,” I admit quietly so as to not interrupt the story Alex is currently telling of her time in med school.

“Okay then,” she says getting to her feet slowly and pulling me up with her.

Eliza’s eyes dart in our direction at the movement and when she sees the exhaustion on my face she smiles sympathetically.

“. . . And then that lady just vomited all over me. I honestly thought I was going to throw up right on top of her, too, but I managed to run out before that happened,” Alex finished her story and all of us gag at the thought of being thrown up on ourselves.

“You guys going to bed?” Eliza asks once everyone has calmed down again.

I nod, feeling Kara playing with my fingers. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. Thank you for dinner. It was delicious, as always.”

Elize smiles bashfully. “Thank you, dear. Good night.”

“G’night.” I nod at Alex and Kelly and go to take my bowl inside, but Eliza tells me to just leave it.

Then, it’s just me and Kara, making out way inside and up to her childhood bedroom.

She used to share a room with Alex, but when Jeremiah passed, they turned his study into a bedroom for her.

“How was your day, darling?” I ask once we get to the room.

Kara closes the door behind us and jumps on the bed, having already changed into her pajamas before I got here.

“Quiet,” she says, taking off her glasses.

I hum in understanding and go to my bag to grab a change of clothes and my toothbrush. The city is loud, even for a human like me, so I know what she means when she says it’s quiet up here in Midvale. Yes, she can still hear heartbeats a mile away, but the constant buzz of the city is missing and I can only imagine what a relief it must be to get away from all of it for a while.

“How was the drive?” she asks. She gets under the covers and pulls the comforter up to her chest.

“There was some traffic, but it wasn’t too bad. I’m just glad I’m here now.” I smile tiredly and take a seat on the edge of the mattress next to her.

“I’m glad you’re here, too. What do you want to do tomorrow?” she asks, tracing the shape of my brow with a finger before dropping her hand in her lap again.

“Go to the beach, maybe? And then have some dinner at Mike’s,” I suggest. I know I want to propose, I just don’t know when yet, so I’ll just see how everything goes and then do it whenever it feels right.

“Sounds good.” Kara leans forward to peck my cheek and shoos me away. “Now go shower so we can cuddle.”

I chuckle and squeeze her leg over the comforter. Then I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom down the hall.

I shower, wash my face and brush my teeth before heading back to the bedroom with a yawn.

I expect Kara to be in bed where I left her, but when I enter the room she’s crouched on the floor next to the bed with her back turned to me.

“What are you doing?” I ask with a confused smile, turning to put my dirty clothes in the hamper behind the door.

Kara doesn’t say anything which makes me frown and turn back around to see her now facing me with tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?!” I rush across the room and kneel in front of her. I lift my hands, wanting to cup her cheeks but then her eyes drop to her lap and I follow her gaze with my own.

Oh shit. . .

Clutched between her fingers is an all too familiar, small, black box.

We both look back up at the same time and when our teary eyes meet I can’t help but smile sheepishly.

“Surprise?” I whisper. My heart is pounding in my chest and I feel like throwing up when Kara stays silent.

Her eyes dart between mine and for a second, when a tear runs down her cheek, I think even just the thought of proposing to her was ridiculous because she obviously doesn’t want to be with me like that.

But then she finally speaks, her voice shaky and quiet.“Ask me.”

My eyebrows dart up knowing surprise and I swallow thickly. “Are you sure?”

She nods as another tear runs down her cheek, but this time she smiles softly and pushes the box into my hands.

“O-Okay.” I get to my feet and pull her with me, only to drop back down on one knee in front of her. “Kara. . . I— This isn’t how I thought this was going to go, but here we are I guess. . .”

Kara smiles, teary eyed, and wipes at her cheeks. Her blue eyes are trained on me and her hands twitch as I speak, showing how much effort it takes for her not to reach out and touch me.

“I love you, Kara,” I start, my voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve loved you ever since you spilled your coffee all over me at Noonan’s and I love you now, standing here in your pajamas. You are beautiful and smart and the size of your heart leaves me utterly and completely speechless sometimes. The last five years have shown me what it is like to love someone, and be loved by someone wholeheartedly and I can’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with you.

“You once told me that being with you was dangerous because you’re Supergirl, but since I’ve known you I’ve never felt safer. You always have my back and I hope when you’re with me you feel even just a fraction of the sense of security you make me feel.” I take a deep breath and open the box carefully to reveal the sparkling ring inside. It’s a simple gold band with a princess-cut diamond sitting on top of it.

Kara’s eyes widen at the sight—even though she knew it was coming—and lifts one of her hands to cover her mouth in shock.

“So. . . Will you marry me, Kara Zor-El?” I whisper.

“Yes.” The reply is immediate and within a second she surges forward to kiss me. The impact of her lips on mine is so forceful, it makes me topple over with a groan and sends a stinging pain through my face.

“Shit.” I cringe and break the kiss immediately, bringing my hand up to my nose only to pull it back and see that it’s now covered in blood.

“Rao, I’m sorry.” Kara’s scrambles to get off me and helps me sit up before inspecting my nose. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A new wave of tears makes its way down her cheeks, but they’re no longer tears of joy. Regret and guilt is written all over her face and when I wince, scrunching my nose, she backs up even more so she’s no longer touching me.

“Hey, no. It’s okay.” I wince again, but try to focus on Kara instead of the pain. I crawl forward and touch her chin with my clean hand, the open ring box on the floor next to us. “It’s not like this is the first time this has happened,” I try to joke, but it falls flat.

“Y/N, I—“

“No.” I push a finger to her lips. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and I’m already feeling better, see? It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

Kara looks up with red-rimmed eyes, the guilt still evident on her face. “But—“

“No buts, baby,” I say with a smile. I grab the box off the floor and take the ring out before holding it up to Kara’s face. “Do you still want to marry me?”

She nods and wipes at her eyes again. “Of course.”

“Good.” I take her hand and, after waiting for another nod, slip the ring onto her finger. “Then that’s all that matters right now.”

Kara stares at the ring and I watch in awe as the heartbreak slowly melts off her face. It’s replaced by adoration and love and when she catches me staring at her, her lips twitch into a tentative smile.

“I love you,” she whispers, lifting a hand to brush her fingers against my cheek. “And I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you, too, and I will do everything in my power to give you the wedding you deserve.” I lean into her touch and grab her other hand, kissing the ring on her finger.

Shaking her head, Kara gently rests her forehead against my own. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just want you there.” I smile and tilt my head, wanting to close the distance between us, but a hand on my chest stops me. “Let’s get your face cleaned first.”

I huff playfully but agree, letting her help me to my feet before she pulls me to the bathroom.

I take a seat on the edge of the tub as Kara wets a towel.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” she says and I nod, closing my eyes as she gets to work cleaning the blood off my face. “Well, your nose is not broken, but it will probably bruise.”

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s not our first rodeo.” This time, Kara cracks a smile and when I pull her to stand in between my legs, she drops the bloodied towel and leans down to capture my lips in a sweet kiss.

Her hands land on the side of my face, making me shiver when I feel the ring against my cheek.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says when we break apart. At the mention of going to sleep, I yawn which makes her giggle.

I change out of my bloodied top and go to throw on a clean shirt, only to freeze when I remember that the ring was at the bottom of my bag and I have yet to ask why Kara was going through it in the first place.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I zip my bag and put on the shirt before joining Kara in the bed.

“Sure.” She snuggles up to me and places her hand on my chest, admiring the ring in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

“Why were you going through my bag?” I ask gently, not wanting to sound accusing.

Blushing furiously, Kara hides her face in the crook of my neck. “I wanted to steal one of your hoodies.”

I laugh and pull her closer. “Of course you did.“

Kara chuckles too and once our laughter has died down, she rolls over to turn off the light before returning to my side.

“I love you,” she whispers against my collarbone. “And I can’t wait to tell everyone that we’re going to get married.”

“I love you, too. . . Fiancée.” I run my hand up and down her back and shiver when the action earns me a kiss against my throat.

“Mhmm, Fiancée.” Kara exhales loudly and snuggles even closer before going still. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” I admit and before long I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

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