#I want to be vulnerable and open and willing but I’m scared

[moonandst4rs]

"Stay with me, I don't want you to leave"

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Part two of "Think I like you best when you're just with me, And no one else"

Warnings: Angst, fluff, no use of y/n, gn!reader x Dean Winchester,

A/N: Inspired by K. - Cigarettes after sex. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

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You tried to let it go. You truly did, but the pain of your situation was agonizing. The more you ignored it, the more it broke you down.

In a moment of bravery, you gathered the courage. "Why do you treat me differently when we're with other people?" you asked softly, your eyes fixed on the window of the rundown motel room. Your gaze drifted to the moon, as if willing it to hide you. You saw the tension creep into Dean's body. "What?" he whispered, his hand freezing on your arm.

"When we're with Sam, or Cas, or even Bobby, you're different… distant," you continued, searching for the truth behind the distance. "Is it me? Are you ashamed of us?" The words trembled on the edge of your lips, the fear of hearing the answer almost unbearable.

For a moment, he was silent—surprisingly so. You could see him wrestling with something deep inside. He took a slow breath, then turned to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours for something you couldn’t name. Finally, he spoke. "It’s not you, sweetheart," he said, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, his lips lingering there just a second longer than usual. "Don’t start thinking you’re the problem."

His words were comforting, but you still needed more. You couldn't walk away without understanding. "Then what is the problem, Dean?" you pressed, searching his face for the truth. "You can tell me. I won’t judge you." You lowered your voice, a soft plea for him to let his guard down.

"It’s just… I don’t…" His voice faltered, the emotions he usually kept buried creeping into his words. You waited patiently, knowing he needed time. His hesitation didn’t frustrate you; it only made you wish he’d be easier on himself. You knew the weight he carried. You wanted him to share it, not hold it alone.

"I’m not good at this, okay?" he admitted, the words slipping out, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t know how to be in a real relationship. When it’s just us, it’s easy. But when we’re around them, I feel like I gotta keep it together. Like if I let my guard down, something bad’s gonna happen. I’m scared, alright? Scared of what they’ll think, scared of messing this up, scared of losing you." His voice softened, and for the first time, you saw his eyes unguarded, full of honesty. "It’s not that I don’t care. I care too much. I just don’t know how to show it without feeling like I’m risking everything."

His words hit you hard. You’d been waiting for him to open up, and now, here it was. You took his hand gently, grounding him in the moment. "Dean," you said softly, "I understand. I know you’re trying to protect us, but I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. I love you, walls and rough edges and all. But this distance? It hurts." You searched his eyes, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I want us to be real, even around Sam and Cas. Even when things are tough. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and we’re in this together. But you have to let me in." You squeezed his hand, your heart pounding in your chest. "I don’t want to feel like I’m losing you when we're around other people. I need all of you, not just the parts you think are safe."

"I don’t know how to let my guard down," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met yours, filled with uncertainty. "I’ve spent so long protecting myself, keeping people at a distance. It’s hard to imagine anyone sticking around when the walls come down." He exhaled sharply, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "But you’re right. You deserve more than what I’ve been giving you. You deserve all of me." He paused, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let the walls fall, just a little. "I’ll work on it. I’ll try to be better for you… for us. I want to try." His thumb brushed your hand, a rare, tender gesture. "You mean too much to me not to."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a quiet promise that he was here and ready to open up, ready to let you in.

[starryeyesmasc]

*a deep and heavy sigh* yeah we’re yearning in the club tonight boys

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[n1daehodefender]

Their reactions of you telling them you want to start trying for a baby!

Contains: Kang dae-ho, Nam gyu, thanos

A/N: This is inspired by @svetamillss post about their headcanons of you telling them you want a baby so creditis to them!!!

Warnings: Discussions about starting a family, emotional vulnerability, mentions of trauma, and varying reactions to the concept of having children.

Kang Dae-ho

Golden Retriever Boyfriend Energy: Kang Dae-ho is the type of boyfriend who radiates warmth, kindness, and endless patience. He grew up in a household with four sisters, so he’s very attuned to emotional cues and naturally supportive. He adores you, always making sure you feel loved and safe, and he frequently daydreams about your future together.

Initial Reaction to You Asking About a Baby: When you bring up the idea of starting a family, Dae-ho freezes mid-bite of his food (because you’re probably asking during a casual, comfortable moment at home). His first instinct is to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Wait… like a baby? As in… a mini-you or me running around the house?” His voice wavers slightly, caught between surprise and excitement.

Once he processes what you’re asking, his face lights up with a mixture of joy and nervousness. He’s wanted this, but he never wanted to pressure you.

Vulnerability and Deep Conversations: That evening, he sits you down for a heartfelt talk. Dae-ho takes the idea seriously, wanting to ensure that you’re both ready for the challenges and joys of parenthood.

“You know I’d love nothing more than to be a dad… but I need to know how you’re feeling about it. Are you scared? Excited? Both?” He wants to make sure you’ve thought about every angle, not because he doubts you, but because he cares so deeply.

He also opens up about his past, talking about how his sisters shaped his view of family. “Growing up, I always thought about what kind of parent I’d want to be. And my dad-,… I don’t ever want to be that kind of dad.”

Planning and Reassurance: Dae-ho is the type to throw himself wholeheartedly into the idea once he knows you’re on the same page. He starts researching baby books, looks into parenting classes, and even asks his sisters for advice.

He’s also incredibly tender and protective of you, ensuring you feel supported every step of the way. “You know I’m here, right? Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

Moments of Humor and Excitement: He’s already imagining what your child might look like, joking about how he hopes they get your eyes or your laugh. He gets especially sentimental at night, cuddling you close and whispering, “Can you imagine how much we’re going to love them?”

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu is thoughtful and introspective, the kind of partner who expresses his love through actions more than words. He’s fiercely protective of you, always ensuring your needs are met, and though he isn’t outwardly affectionate, his love for you runs deep.

When you bring it up, Nam Gyu’s face remains stoic, but his hands clench slightly on the table. He’s taken aback—not because he doesn’t want children, but because the idea forces him to confront his own fears and insecurities.

“You want… a child? With me?” His voice is low, almost hesitant. He’s struggling to process what this means for both of you.

Nam Gyu worries about the world you’d bring a child into, especially given his experiences. He’s seen how cruel life can be, and the thought of exposing a child to that terrifies him.

“I don’t want them to grow up feeling… helpless,” he confesses later that night. “I’ve seen too much. What if I can’t protect them? What if I fail them?”

Despite his fears, he can’t help but picture a future where your child inherits your strength and his quiet resilience.

Nam Gyu takes time to process the idea, but he eventually comes to you with a clear decision.

“If this is what you want, I’ll do everything in my power to be the best father I can be. I just… need you to be patient with me.”

He’s cautious but willing, showing his commitment through small actions: building a crib, researching schools, and learning how to cook meals for a growing family.

Nam Gyu becomes even more attentive and protective of you, always keeping a hand on your back when you’re out together and ensuring you’re never overexerting yourself. His love deepens in ways he didn’t think were possible

Thanos (Su-bong)

Thanos is the life of the party, always cracking jokes and keeping the mood light. But beneath his humor is a man who has endured pain and loss, which makes him cherish you all the more. He’s your biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding you how amazing you are.

When you bring up the idea, Thanos immediately bursts into laughter—not because he’s mocking you, but because he’s genuinely shocked and unsure how to process his emotions.

“You’re serious? Like… you want a little Thanos running around? Or maybe a mini-you with your brains and my charm?”

Emotional Vulnerability: Later, when the reality sinks in, he becomes more serious. Thanos isn’t afraid to admit his fears, and he opens up about his past struggles.

“I’ve lost so much, you know? The idea of having something—someone—so precious… it scares the hell out of me. But you… you make me believe it’s possible.”

He confesses his deepest fear: losing you or the child. “I don’t know what I’d do if something went wrong, but if this is what you want… I’m in. No questions asked.”

Thanos approaches the idea of parenthood with his signature humor, making you laugh during otherwise emotional moments.

“Do you think they’ll inherit my good looks or your stubbornness? Or maybe both—poor kid’s doomed either way.”

He starts brainstorming ridiculous baby names and jokingly practices “dad jokes” to prepare for the role.

Beneath his playful exterior, Thanos shows a side of himself that’s deeply emotional and committed. He talks to your belly long before you’re even pregnant, promising the baby a life filled with love, laughter, and bad jokes.

“They’re going to have the best life because they’ll have you as a mom. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure they know how much they’re loved.”

[itsthatmff]

helllooo, can you write boyfriends headcanons with other men like flashy flash and amai mask please? ~

IM FINALLY BACK WITH MORE HEADCANONS! writing for these was so hard- it was my first time doing amai mask too- I hope they turned out well 😩

Please keep the requests incoming I’ll try to work through them! I’m sorry for taking so long and Thank you so much for the patience.

Boyfriend Headcanons on OPM men Pt. 2

Fem!reader

Included: Flashy flash, Amai mask, Saitama, Zombie man

Flashy Flash

Having him as a boyfriend sure isn’t for the weak

He’s definetly the leader of the sassy man apocalypse

He takes his night routine SERIOUSLY like you will have a 20 step hair routine and a spa session

He gives great hair care tips though

Lets you braid his hair when you’re bored or does your hair when you’re tired

Gossiping with him is super fun

When he’s annoyed or jealous he scoffs a lot

Tiny bit reluctant over physical affection but his hugs and kisses feel so gentle, you could melt into them.

He goes all out when you’re on your period, like he knows exactly what you need and what to do.

Gifts you hairclips on random occasions !

Doesn’t like you touching his katana cuz he’s worried you’ll hurt yourself.

You get the best dates with him because he knows the best spots, prefers staying at home with you though in case one of his opps are after him.

He does bicker with you from time to time because he knows you too well and can’t be bothered to deal with your overdramatic ass

"Yeah fine we get it you’re just angry because you’re craving some desserts. Stop whining and lets go get it.“

Amai Mask

Might seem like a narcissistic and selfish bastard at first but he really just has issues

As a boyfriend he might not be able to spend much time with you since he is a hero AND a celebrity with a filled schedule

Makes sure to spoil you rotten tho

You get expensive gifts from him on a weekly basis and he takes you out to the best restaurants

He has to be very discreet with your relationship since it could cause him a bad reputation and backlash from the media

Whenever he’s overwhelmed or had a bad day he seeks comfort in your embraces

Feels like you’re the only one who understands him

Genuinely opens up to you and shows you his vulnerable side from time to time

He gets VERY jealous like he better not catch you admiring some other hero

At first he’d laugh it off not wanting to believe such a thing but slowly the jealousy would start creeping up

“You’re mine understood?”

Is just scared of u leaving him

He calls to tell you there’s a new magazine out that features him and wants you to buy it.

Thinks you’re his biggest supporter and likes to brag about you.

Saitama

Dates consist of gaming or getting deals at different supermarkets

I can totally imagine that he’s willing to try some new things at the convenience store with you and do taste tests.

Never rates the food a 10/10 cuz he thinks Genos could do it better.

YES sometimes Genos DOES make dinner dates for you two, he goes all out making a 5 star dinner for his sensei and his girlfriend.

Saitama secretly loves it when you come and sit on his lap as he watches tv.

He may not look like it but he really notices the small details, like he’ll ask if you put on different perfume or shampoo. Does it so sleek too.

He’d lean in to your neck and WHISPER INTO YOUR EAR

"Hm..you smell so good, got a new perfume?“

This guy just knows how to get you flustered

Is very nonchalant about most things, doesn’t really get jealous. (Unless you’re being overly nice to someone that has like really good hair)

“Yo genos. How much do you think a hair transplant costs?”

“Why are you asking sensei?”

“No reason really..” as he GLARES at the guy you’re talking to.

Doesn’t call you often, more like he randomly texts you what he’s doing and if your schedule matches his you both hangout.

Wants to climb up the ranks in order to impress you and loves to tell you about his day when he gets home.

Gets the most expressive around you.

He kicks out Genos when you two need your private time.

Gives the best piggy back rides.

Zombieman

Hands down the best boyfriend out there

He’s so chill about everything

Likes to take you everywhere with him, especially on shooting ranges, coffee shops or jazz bars

Respects your boundaries a lot, if you don’t like the smoke from his cigarettes he’ll try not to smoke around you, if you’re a smoker yourself he always looks forward to smoke some with you.

You both have a very casual relationship, there’s no awkwardness at all nor the cheesiness and pampering

That also includes physical affection. Cuddling on the couch or holding hands seems natural to you.

As nihilistic as he is, he can’t hide whenever he’s jealous.

“Was it fun chatting to that human?” He’d ask whilst pressing down the last remaining of his cigarette onto the whiskey glass. He wasn’t upset, more like curious of what you saw in another man.

Only calls you in the evenings after he walks you home. Likes to hear your voice before he goes to sleep.

He loves to get you roses

Asks childish emperor for advice on what to get you. Doesn’t even realise himself that he slips in your name in every conversation.

Is the kind of boyfriend that is happy enough to just watch you from afar.

Never ever gets aggressive with you. In fact you’ve never seen him angry.

Likes to polish his guns while you sit on his lap.

[natsaffection]

Lines crossed. Pt. 2 | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: 18+! Fluffy Smut (fingering and oral), talk about past, scars

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: Okay, since the first part exploded and many people wanted a sequel, the second part is now here!

Part 1

The first light of dawn filtered through the rain-streaked windows, casting a soft glow over Natasha’s apartment. The storm had passed, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake. Natasha stirred from where she had been sitting, her eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. She had stayed by your side all night, watching over you, making sure your condition didn’t worsen.

You lay on the couch, covered by a warm blanket. Your breathing was steadier now, though your face still bore the marks of pain and fatigue. Natasha stood up quietly, stretching her stiff muscles before heading to the kitchen to make some coffee.

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the room, and the sound of the percolator seemed to rouse you from your restless sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings before your gaze settled on Natasha. She approached with a mug in her hand, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Morning,” Natasha said softly, handing you the mug. “How are you feeling?” You winced as you shifted to sit up, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. “I’ve been better,” you replied, your voice raspy. “Thanks for… everything.”

Natasha sat down on the edge of the coffee table, her eyes searching yours. “You gave me quite a scare last night. Do you remember what happened?”

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth soothing your throat. “Yeah… I was outnumbered. I thought I could handle it, but…” You glanced down at the bandages on your side, your expression darkening. “Guess I miscalculated.”

Natasha’s eyes softened. “You’re lucky to be alive. Those wounds were serious.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I know. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Natasha reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “You did the right thing coming here. I’m glad you did.” You looked up at her, a hint of vulnerability in your eyes. “I’m not used to asking for help. It’s not… easy for me.”Natasha nodded, understanding. “I know. But you don’t have to do this alone. We can help you. I can help you.”

You hesitated, the weight of your past actions pressing heavily on you. “But what about S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Avengers? They won’t just forget everything I’ve done.”

Natasha’s expression hardened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. But first, you need to heal. Then we can talk about what comes next.” You nodded slowly, the reality of your situation sinking in. “I don’t know if I can ever make things right, Natasha.”

Natasha squeezed your arm gently. “It’s not going to be easy, but you’re not beyond redemption. We all have our demons. The important thing is that you’re willing to try.”You met her gaze, the flicker of hope in your eyes growing a little stronger. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For not giving up on me.”

Natasha smiled, her eyes warm. “You know,” she began, her voice soft, “I also wasn’t always this person. I used to be someone very different. My past… it wasn’t pretty.” You looked at her, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“I was trained to be an assassin,” Natasha said, her eyes distant as she recalled her past. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. But then, I was given a second chance. Someone believed I could be more than what I was trained to be. They saw something in me worth saving.” You listened intently, feeling a connection forming. “And you changed?”

Natasha nodded. “It wasn’t easy. It took time, and I had to face a lot of my demons. But I did it. And if I could do it, so can you.” Her words resonated deeply within you, giving you a glimmer of hope. “I want to believe that,” you said quietly. “I really do.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, and she leaned in a little closer. “You’re already taking the first steps by being here. That’s more than enough for now.”

Without thinking, driven by a sudden surge of emotion, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natasha’s. The kiss was gentle but filled with desperation and gratitude. For a moment, Natasha froze, and panic set in. You pulled back, your eyes wide with fear that you had ruined everything. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you stammered, your heart pounding. “I shouldn’t have—”

But before you could finish, Natasha cupped your face in her hands and kissed you back, her lips soft and warm against yours. The kiss deepened, filled with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of pain and redemption.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Natasha’s eyes held a mix of emotions, but there was no anger, only acceptance. You stared into her eyes, feeling a connection that you had never felt before. The room seemed to close in, and the outside world faded away. All that mattered was the two of you in that moment.

Driven by a mix of gratitude and the need to repay her for her kindness, you leaned in again, kissing her more deeply this time. Your hands found their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Natasha responded, but with a controlled intensity that made your heart race.

“I kinda want to repay you..” You said and Natasha pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with emotion. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said firmly, though her voice was gentle. “But if this is what you want… then let me take care of you.”

Natasha’s hands moved to the hem of your shirt, but she paused, glancing at your bandaged side. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked, concern evident in her voice. “I am,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just… be careful.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she carefully lifted your shirt over your head, her touch both gentle and firm. She ran her hands down your sides, avoiding the bandaged wound, her fingers sending shivers through your body.

You reached out to touch her, but Natasha gently pushed your hands away, a smirk playing on her lips. “Let me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding.

You felt a thrill of excitement and a hint of frustration. “What if I want to take care of you?” you challenged, your voice breathy. Natasha’s eyes flashed with amusement and something darker. “We’ll see about that,” she replied, her tone teasing but firm.

She leaned in, kissing you again, her hands exploring your body with a careful yet possessive touch. Her lips trailed down your neck, making you gasp softly. You felt her fingers brush against the scars on your chest, and you tensed slightly.

“You’re beautiful,” Natasha murmured against your skin, her words sending a warm flush through you. “Every part of you.”

You relaxed under her touch, feeling safe and cherished. Natasha’s hands moved with expert precision, caressing and teasing until you were trembling with need. She was rough enough to assert her dominance but always mindful of your injuries, never pushing you too far.

“G-God..” you moaned softly, your hands gripping the couch cushions as she continued to drive you wild with her touch. “Shh,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

You surrendered completely, allowing Natasha to guide you. Her movements were a perfect blend of roughness and tenderness, making you feel desired and protected at the same time. She kissed her way down your body again, exploring everywhere, her touch igniting a fire within you.

You couldn’t deny how good her touch felt. Natasha continued to explore your body, her hands and mouth leaving a trail of sensations that made your head spin. She was rough enough to keep you on edge but always careful, never letting you forget that she was in control.

When she finally moved lower, her hands parting your legs, you gasped, your body arching towards her. “Natasha,” you breathed, your hands reaching for her.

She held your gaze, her eyes dark with desire. Your breath hitching as she moved closer. Natasha’s touch was both commanding and gentle, her fingers exploring you with a skill that left you trembling. She brought you to the edge, holding you there, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. “I need you.” Natasha’s lips curved into a smile. “Patience,” she murmured, her touch driving you wild. When she finally took you over the edge, it was with a fierce intensity that left you breathless and trembling.

You cried out, your body arching towards her, your hands gripping the couch cushions as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Natasha held you through it, her touch gentle now, soothing you as you came down from the high. She pulled you into her arms, holding you close, her lips brushing against your forehead.

She kissed you again, her lips soft and inviting. You could feel the fire reignite within you as her hands roamed your body with renewed fervor. She leaned back slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a dark intensity. “Ready for more?” she whispered, her voice husky. You nodded, your breath hitching. “Yes… please.”

Natasha smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she resumed her exploration. She kissed her way down your neck, her hands caressing your sensitive skin. Her touch was both commanding and tender, igniting every nerve ending as she moved lower.

You gasped as Natasha’s fingers found their way between your thighs, her touch electric. She moved with a deliberate pace, building you up again with expert precision. The tension within you coiled tighter and tighter, the need for release almost unbearable.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “Come for me, Y/n, come on..“ she commanded softly, her voice sending shivers down your spine. With a cry of pleasure, you came undone beneath her touch, your body arching towards her as waves of ecstasy crashed over you again. Natasha held you close, her hands steadying you as you trembled in her arms.

When you finally came down from the high, Natasha kissed you softly, her eyes filled with warmth and satisfaction. “You did so well,” she murmured, her voice soothing.

You lay there in the aftermath, your breath slowly returning to normal. Natasha’s arms around you felt like the safest place in the world. She glanced down at you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Y/n,” Natasha began softly, her fingers tracing the scars on your body. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s a long story,” you murmured, your voice tinged with sadness. “I wasn’t always like this. I had a family once. A sister. She was everything to me." Natasha listened intently, her hand gently stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "She got involved with some bad people. Tried to help her, but it was too late. They... they killed her. The police did nothing. They said it was an accident, but I knew better. I saw the bruises, the fear in her eyes. I knew she was in trouble, and no one was willing to help."

Natasha's eyes softened with understanding. "So you took matters into your own hands." You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I couldn't let those monsters walk free. I couldn't let anyone else suffer like she did. So I started hunting them, taking down the ones who hurt innocent people. It became my mission, my way of coping with the loss."

Natasha pulled you closer, her embrace comforting. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. No one should have to go through that." You sniffled, wiping away a tear. "I know what I did was wrong, but I felt like I had no other choice. I had to do something."

Natasha nodded, her voice gentle. "I understand now. Your intentions were good, but the methods were extreme. But we need to find a better way." You looked up at her, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. "Do you really think it's possible?"

Natasha smiled softly. "I do. But it's going to take time and effort. And you're not alone in this. I'll be with you every step of the way."

The next few days passed quietly. Natasha helped you regain your strength, providing a safe space for you to heal. She was always there, offering support and understanding. You found yourself opening up more, sharing stories and fears you had kept buried for so long.

One evening, as the two of you were sitting on the couch, Natasha turned to you, her expression serious. "Y/n, there's something I need to tell you."

You looked at her, sensing the gravity in her tone. "What is it?" Natasha took a deep breath. "Don’t be mad, but I called Fury. He's on his way here."

Your heart raced, a surge of panic rising within you. "What?! Why? I thought-“ Natasha raised her hands, trying to calm you. "No, listen. He's coming alone, and he wants to listen to you. I explained your situation, and he agreed to hear you out."

A short while later, there was a knock at the door. Natasha stood up, giving you a reassuring nod before opening it. Fury entered, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

"Romanoff," Fury greeted, his gaze shifting to you. "Y/n." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your nerves. "Director."

Fury sat down across from you, his eye fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. "Natasha tells me you want to make things right. I’m all ears.“

You took a deep breath, recounting your story, your motivations, and the reasons behind your actions. Fury listened intently, his expression unreadable.

When you finished, there was a heavy silence. Fury leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've taken the law into your own hands. That's a dangerous path.“

You nodded, "I know what I did was wrong. But to all respect..Do you know what it’s like to watch innocent people suffer because the system is too slow or too corrupt to act? To see those people walking free because they can afford good lawyers? I did what I did because someone had to.”

Fury sighed, his expression softening slightly. "You're a fighter, Y/n. I can respect that. But you need to learn to fight the right way." You looked up, surprised by his words. "What do you mean?"

Fury glanced at Natasha before continuing. "You want justice? Fine. We'll give you a chance to prove yourself. You'll work for us, under supervision. Help us take down the real threats, the ones that slip through the cracks. But you step out of line, and it's over. Understand?"

The weight of his words settled on you. This was it, a chance to prove yourself, but also a heavy responsibility. You glanced at Natasha, who gave you an encouraging nod. "I understand," you said firmly. "Thank you..“

"Good," Fury said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't make me regret this."

---

As you walked through the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, you felt the eyes of agents on you, their expressions a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and, in some cases, outright hostility. You tried to ignore the whispers and the glares, focusing on the promise you had made to Fury and to yourself.

Natasha guided you to a conference room where the Avengers were gathered. The room fell silent as you entered, every eye on you, again.“

"Everyone, this is Y/n," Natasha began, her voice steady. "She'll be working with us from now on." Tony was the first to speak, his tone skeptical. "So, we're just supposed to trust her now?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," Natasha replied, her gaze steady. "But she's here to make things right. And Fury's given her a chance. We need to give her one, too."

Steve stepped forward, his expression serious. "It's not going to be easy. You'll have to earn our trust. But if Natasha believes in you, that's a good start."

You nodded, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "I know I have a lot to prove. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. "I won't let you down." Natasha guided you to a room in the living quarters. It was small but comfortable, a far cry from the places you had been staying in recently.

"This is your room," Natasha said, her voice softening. "It's not much, but it's a start." You looked around, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "No, it's perfect.."

Natasha placed a hand on your shoulder. "Remember, you're not alone. We're in this together." You nodded, feeling a sense of hope for the first time in a long while. "I know. And I won't forget it."

As you settled into your new room, the reality of your situation began to sink in. The road to redemption would be long and difficult, but with Natasha's support and the chance to prove yourself, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as you lay down to rest, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. A chapter filled with hope, determination, and the promise of a better future.

-

-

-

-

@mrsrushman @lOnelyish @imnotslouching @a-colletion-of-cells

[cailinsblog]

something angsty and emotional with qh!

Yesss another request keep them coming guys 💕💕

The Breaking Point | Quinn hughes

Quinn hughes x reader

Masterlist

The soft hum of rain pattering against the windows filled the quiet apartment. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of a tension that had been building for weeks. You sat on the edge of the couch, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you stared at the floor. Across the room, Quinn paced, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said finally, his voice low and strained. “I’m trying.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Trying? Quinn, you’ve been so distant. You’re barely here, even when you’re home.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his expression conflicted. “I’ve been busy. You know how demanding the season is.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you said, your voice breaking. “I know hockey is important to you, Quinn. I’ve always known that. But you don’t even talk to me anymore. It’s like you’re shutting me out.”

Quinn sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this. The pressure, the expectations—it’s a lot.”

“And what about me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you carry all of that alone? To feel like I’m not enough to help you?”

He walked over and sat down on the couch beside you, though there was still a noticeable distance between you. “It’s not about you not being enough. It’s me. I don’t want to burden you with everything I’m dealing with.”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “That’s what a relationship is, Quinn. We’re supposed to lean on each other. But you’ve been pushing me away, and it hurts. It feels like I’m losing you.”

Quinn closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he said quietly. “I’m just scared, Y/N. Scared of failing. Scared of letting everyone down.”

Your heart ached at his confession. You reached out, placing a hand on his knee. “Quinn, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always. But you have to let me in. I can’t help if you keep shutting me out.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you, his gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and guilt. “I know. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you.”

You nodded, wiping away another tear. “We can’t keep going like this, Quinn. We need to communicate, to be honest with each other. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the best thing in my life, Y/N. I’ll do better, I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew that if you both were willing to put in the effort, you could get through this together.

Quinn reached out, pulling you into his arms. You leaned into him, feeling the tension begin to melt away as he held you close. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “And I’m so sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I love you too,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “We’ll get through this, Quinn. Together.”

And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, you both made a silent promise to work through the challenges ahead, knowing that love and understanding would be your guiding light.

[heavenbarnes]

okay hear me out— softness and gentle topics aside, how would older bf!simon go about discussing his mom & Tommy? would it ever occur? Would it be a vulnerable and gentle discussion with sins laid on the table or would it be like pulling teeth— panic attack arises and the words are spewing.

at first I’d have headcanoned it that maybe we innocently question the clinginess but I’m not so sure anymore; feels like that would just be second nature for the two.

i’ve never ventured into this topic because it’s literally so devastating that i almost considered writing it out of canon for him- but it’s time 🫶🏼 (massive tw for family loss)

the day older bf!simon tells you about his family, it’s at breakfast.

he’d made the food and you’d made the coffee, both expertly passing each other in your kitchen until you’d settled at the table.

when he told you, you had toast hanging out your mouth.

“pardon?”

“i had a family”

you weren’t really talking about anything in particular, so you made quick mental work of skimming over your conversation until you found where this was coming from.

sunny outside, nice day, should go to the farmers market, get groceries, it’ll be crowded, family day-

i had a family

had.

oh.

your heart had start to speed up in your chest and part of you was scared simon’s military precision hearing would be able to tell.

judging by the look on his face, distant, quiet- he couldn’t hear the thrumming against your sternum.

you were thankful, it meant he kept speaking.

“my mum and my brother, tommy- he had a missus too and a kid”

had.

oh god.

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze drifted out the window and onto the birds that were floating over the fruit tree in the backyard.

you couldn’t say there was much of you to look at, a hardline of your mouth and eyes that were willing themselves not to water.

“they weren’t in a good way- but i helped them get better”

the corners of your lips quirked reflexively but it fell away just as quickly, unable to escape the voice in the back of your head that kept saying the same thing.

had.

why is every thing in the past tense?

probably for the same reason this is the first time you’re hearing this story. when is the right time to get to this part?

the moment he cuts the rope, lets you down from where he’s had you hanging- you wish you could react in any other way.

instead, your mouth hangs open while your hand does its best to cover it.

the toast goes cold, so does the coffee.

the tears break through of their own accord.

and he still won’t look at you.

“oh, simon”

your mind races in a way you’ve never felt before, thoughts you’d never had before rising to the surface.

first, you want to hurt someone, anyone- whoever you can blame for doing this to simon.

(you quickly realise he’s probably already done that)

second, you want to take him by the shoulders and tell him that this was never his fault.

that there was nothing he did or could’ve done to deserve this.

and you’re sure that there’s layers to his job and things he’s done and seen that’d make him think that cannot be true.

but you don’t care- there is no human alive that could ever deserve what you’ve just been told.

you don’t care.

you love him.

third, you start to make sense of some of simon’s behaviours.

the way he calls your name when you’re at the other end of the house, just to know where you are.

the way you can turn around at any given moment and find him closer than your shadow.

the way he calls you on deployment only to hear you tell him you love him and you’re still home waiting.

the way he cannot exist without a hand on you, without knowing where you are, without knowing you’re still his.

and there you go again, wanting to hurt whoever put him in this position.

grateful to be able to love him how he needs but angry- blind rage in knowing what he went through to get to this point.

it’s why you’re out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his shoulders the minute you hear even a sniff.

you let him ruin your shirt with tears as strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so close into him you wouldn’t be at all surprised if the particles shifted just enough for you to become one.

as if you weren’t already.

you’d never, never ever, questioned simon’s ever present need to be close. you’d come to accept it, enjoy it, miss it when he was gone.

it was never overbearing, never out of line, always right when you needed it.

reminding you that he was there.

that he loved you.

that he needed you.

just as much as you needed him.

and god, did he need to be needed.

did he need you to pass him the pickle jar (even when you could open it just fine)

did he need you to make him take the rubbish out (when you could do it yourself)

did he need you to call him when the car was making a funny sound (when you knew it was the fan belt)

did you need him to pull you into his lap at the end of a long day and rest his lips against the crown of your head as he rubbed slow circles into your back.

like you were doing for him now.

“simon, i just need you to know- i’m not going anywhere”

you made it to the farmer’s market, eventually. it was crowded, meaning simon’s arm never let your waist.

not that you mind.

not that you ever mind.

[morbidlcve]

bunny love ⋆.ೃ࿔* (❀)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 0.91k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ requests: OPEN

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: mentions of the red room, Natasha’s past, insomnia (if there’s anymore please let me know!)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ AN: hi so… i’m sorry for the inactivity, i had a lot going on and college was kicking my ass, i wrote something short yet cute and i hope you like it!!

Natasha Romanoff is not one to love openly. For most of her life, she has been reclusive and private. She is not one to gossip about what she just did, who she just saw, or what she saw someone doing. She’s a mere bystander in her own life if you will. Her life now (in stark contrast) still hangs within her. Her need to be closed off, untrusting, and unworthy still hangs within her.

Until she met you (clique, I know), it’s true. You brought her out of her shell and taught her that needing and wanting love is okay. It was rocky, the start of your relationship; many times when you wouldn’t talk for a few days, hence the reclusiveness, but she’d come back to you. You wouldn’t hold it against her, heavens no. After all she went through and the significance of the relationship you were building with her held, no, you were patient and accepting. Even if it did make you a little overwhelmed with the mood changes now and then, it was all worth it.

Every sleepless night you would endure, either waiting for her to come home or staying up with her when her thoughts got the better of her, working out (spectating) until she got tired and you took her back to bed. Every little argument you guys found yourselves in. They were minor things really: Natasha returning from a mission injured and not going to medbay, leaving you to insist that you take care of her. Natasha becoming adorably annoyed at you when you don’t send her a good morning or goodnight text (she was based in Europe, and it was still 3 AM for you), so you would have to make it up to her with lots of cuddles when she got back. Little things really.

Over time, especially with your unwavering patience and understanding) Natasha would slowly grow to become ever so slightly bolder out of the comfort of her or your room. For example, she would make your lunch and leave you a little note in the container (and crucify anybody if they were to eat it), rest her head on your shoulder when you guys were in the living area or sit on the opposite end of the couch with her feet in your lap. Baby steps.

Behind closed doors, Natasha was the most delicate person you would ever encounter, truly.

She would be so unbelievably tentative and nurturing and not at all who people think she is.

Her soul lost to the monsters who tainted it and ruined her girlhood, not giving her a chance to fight for herself. She told you she wouldn’t change what happened to her; it has made her so much stronger, and she wouldn’t be where she is today if it hadn’t been for her history. She embraces it. She’s stronger now, and it won’t happen again.

Through all the terrors of her childhood, you’d think she’d be afraid of any form of intimacy or contact. She was at first, she wasn’t clear of your intentions, she was weary. But when you came into her life, full of love, admiration and patience, she backtracked. Of course it scared her, she’d never known love like the one you were more than willing to bestow upon her. But over time, it became a sanctuary for her, a haven, a place where she could shed her masks and her troubles and show her vulnerability, and it was such a beautiful sight.

It was amazing to watch the woman who used to ghost you every time you dropped a compliment become the woman who would come home to you and just lose herself in you. Whether it was gentle loving she needed or reassurance, you were her rock.

She learned that not all people were out to get her, not everyone holds her past against her.

Her favourite way to show you how much she loves you and how much you mean to her is definitely acts of service. She will be the one to make your coffee in the morning, just how you like it, ensure that your towel is warm after your shower, and put your bookmark in your book if you fall asleep reading.

She knows you better than you know yourself. After years of watching people’s behaviour, she picks up on subtle changes in your demeanour or mood. You must believe that she will do anything in her power to help you if she can.

When you truly got Natasha to feel comfortable with you, she would always be on you, your shadow, unless she got called away. Her hand was always in yours, her hand on the small of your back, her hand on your thigh, her hand combing through your hair. You were her life source. You fell first, but you cannot deny that this woman fell harder.

She cannot express how much it means to her, you waiting for her, not giving up on her, she owes you her life, she would say, you saved her for the better.

You also have your downs like every single other person in the world, and it’s Natasha who pulls you back to her. You could be crying, and she would wipe your tears away, her forehead pressed against yours, hands cupping your face, telling you that you’ll face it together.

You were made for each other, so opposite yet so the same.

[cutielando]

2 hands | c.l.

synopsis: in which you're falling apart

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The lights of Monte Carlo twinkled against the night sky, the city alive with its usual hum of luxury and life.

But here, in Charles’ apartment, the air felt heavier than it usually did.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your arms crossed over your chest, watching Charles as he paced back and forth.

He was running his hands through his hair, his frustration very evident and palpable, stinging you and tugging at your heart more than you cared to admit.

“Just say it, Charles” you whispered, finally breaking the heavy silence that lingered in the room.

Charles stopped, turning around to face you with an expression that held equal hurt and exasperation at your words.

“Say what, huh? That I can’t do this with you anymore? That no matter how hard I seem to try, I feel like I’m giving you everything and it still doesn’t seem to be enough? Is that what you want me to say?” he said, how voice broken and strained.

This was hurting him just as much as it was hurting you, which is what you hated the most about it.

Your breath hitched at his words. The emotions were raw, unfiltered, and his words echoed something you’d been afraid of confronting by yourself.

“You think I don’t know that?” you began, your voice no louder than a whisper. “You think I don’t see how much you’re giving me? I do, Charles. God, I see everything, believe me. But sometimes it feels like you’re holding everything together with your two hands and I’m over here, barely holding myself together” you confessed, all of the frustrations from the past months finally boiling over.

Charles’ expression softened and his shoulders sagged, the anger and hurt giving way for something more vulnerable.

He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours desperately.

“Why won’t you let me in, Y/N? I’ve always been here, willing to help you every step of the way, to carry some of the weight for you. Why won’t you let me help you?” he asked, his voice soft, but with a tinge of desperation.

He couldn’t bear to see you hurting and knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help you. He hated feeling this helpless while you were clearly struggling.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you furiously blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

“Because I don’t know how, Charles. I don’t know how to let you be the one holding me up. I’m so used to doing everything on my own, the thought of leaning on you for help simply terrifies me” you explained, your voice tired.

Charles reached out to you, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hands in his.

His thumbs traced soft, soothing circles over your skin, grounding you in a way that you hadn’t realized you had needed all this time.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Y/N. You don’t need to have it all figured out. I don’t care if you’re messy, if we’re going to be a mess for a while. I just want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out” he said quietly.

The sincerity in his voice cracked something open deep inside of your soul.

You let out a shaky breath, the tears finally spilling over as you slowly nodded your head, your lips pursed.

“I’m scared, Charles, but I don’t want to lose you because of this” you admitted, taking in a sharp breath.

He smiled sadly before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace.

“You’re not going to lose me, Y/N. We’ll figure this out together, you don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here” he whispered in your ear.

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of your emotions finally finding a release as he held you.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry everything on your own.

Because now you had Charles, and you didn’t need anything else other than him.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

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REQUEST HERE

[blingblong55]

Soft things- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Kinktober Day 12

Based on a request: Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost!Soft dom Ghost! Thank you and have a lovely day ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, soft dom!Ghost, sub!reader, unprotected!sex, P-in-V ----

Fuck you're such a good girl when you're here with him like this. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice low as his eyes trace your figure sprawled across his lap. His fingers glide from your cheek to your chin, firm but gentle, coaxing you to meet his gaze.

With a subtle shift, his thumb hooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back so he can take you in fully as if he’s seeing you with fresh eyes. Ghost still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—maybe he never would.

Did it mess with his head? Maybe. But that’s why he kept you close.

What started as a clear-cut dynamic between dom and sub blurred when you began sharing a space. Now, thoughts of returning home—to you—scratched at the back of his mind in ways he didn’t expect. It was meant to be simple, a release, not something that stirred up feelings. Feelings Ghost had long since buried.

He never dealt with emotions—never wanted to. It wasn’t in him to try. To him, people were dangerous. They brought failure and vulnerability. And were they caring about someone? That was a weakness that could get you killed.

"Look at me." His tone is firm, but there’s an underlying edge, as his thumb drags over your lower lip, slow and deliberate.

You’re stunning to him, and that’s what throws him off balance. Ghost, always in control, was softening in ways that scared him. But for you? He was willing to let that iron grip on himself slip. Patience, something that had thinned over the years, stretched further than he thought possible for your sake. Maybe you were worth that.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice softer now, luring you in with its gentleness. His thumb presses against your parted lips, brushing over your tongue. "You look so damn good like this." A pause. "But don’t think I’m going soft, you cheeky thing."

His hands roamed over your body, firm but with a surprising tenderness, like he’s trying to balance between the roughness he knows and the gentleness you seem to pull out of him without even trying.

"Y/N," he murmurs, his gruff voice sending shivers down your spine. "Bloody hell, you're gorgeous."

Ghost's fingers trace the swell of your breasts, pausing to circle your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He can feel your nipples hardening under his touch, a surge of satisfaction coursing through him.

"I want to see you," he growls, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Take it off."

You comply, lifting your arms and allowing Ghost to peel the garment away. Your breasts bounce free, and he can't help but admire their fullness, their softness. He cups them in his large hands, kneading the flesh, relishing the way you arch into his touch.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes, leaning down to capture one of your nipples between his lips. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, reveling in your soft moans and the way your fingers tangle in his hair.

His hands continue to explore your body, sliding down to your thighs and back up again, mapping every curve and dip. He wants to commit you to memory, to burn you into his mind so he can remember you even when you're apart.

"Y/N," he whispers against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "I need you."

You respond by rolling your hips, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through him, and he groans, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"Yes, Ghost," you pant, your voice breathy and desperate. "Please, I need you too."

Ghost doesn't waste any time. He quickly strips you both of the remaining clothing, his eyes never leaving your body as he takes in every inch of your exposed skin. Then, he settles between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

Ghost's cock nudges against you, and he can't help but groan at the feeling. He’s hard, achingly so, his length throbbing with the need to be inside you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his hips pressing forward, seeking the warmth of her body. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

You nod, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded with desire. Ghost can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body welcomes him, only stoking his fire.

He pushes forward, sliding into you inch by inch, until he's fully buried inside. The sensation is overwhelming—your walls gripping him tightly, making him feel like he belongs there like he’s found his place.

"God, you feel perfect," he rasps, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm.

Ghost loses himself in the way you respond to his touch, in the sounds you make as he thrusts deeper into you. He wants to memorize everything—every gasp, every sensation—so he can replay it later when you're apart.

As he moves within you, the tension builds, the pressure in his gut tightening with every stroke. He shifts slightly, angling his hips, searching for that perfect spot that will make you cry out. When he finds it, the change in your breath and the way you cling to him tells him he’s got you.

"That's it, Y/N," he encourages, voices low and rough. "Come for me."

His movements grow erratic as his release approaches. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that has you gasping and arching beneath him. The sound of skin against skin fills the air, a raw, primal rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunts, fingers digging into your hips, holding you firmly in place. "You're so tight, so perfect."

He feels the way your walls flutter around him, a telltale sign that you're close. Determined to push you over the edge, Ghost thrusts harder, each movement rougher, more intense. He wants to watch you fall apart beneath him.

"Come for me, Y/N," he growls, voice commanding and low. "I want to feel you come undone."

His release is just around the corner, the heat coiling tight at the base of his spine, ready to snap. But he holds back, refusing to give in until you’ve reached your peak.

Adjusting his angle slightly, he grinds against your clit with each thrust, the friction sending you over the edge. You cry out, body arching off the bed as you cling to him desperately.

"Ghost!" you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh god, don't stop!"

He doesn't. Ghost continues his relentless rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with a force that makes the bed shake. He feels you tightening around him, your body tensing as you teeter on the edge of orgasm.

"That's it, Y/N," he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "Come for me, let go."

With one final, powerful thrust, he drives into you, and you shatter. Your body convulses beneath him, your walls clenching around his cock like a vice. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a groan that sounds almost like a roar, Ghost follows you over the edge.

He collapses on top of you, his body trembling from the intensity of his release. Ghost can feel your breath, still coming in short, sharp gasps as you recover from your orgasm.

Ghost pulls out and rolls onto his side, drawing you close to his chest. His heart pounds, adrenaline still surging through his veins. You’re both spent, your breath hot against his skin.

"That was…fucking incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse and low. "Y/N, you're amazing."

He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body nestled against his. Ghost had never been the type for cuddling, but with you, it feels right—like he could stay here forever, holding you close, shielding you from the world.

As you both lie there, basking in the afterglow, Ghost's mind drifts. He thinks about how things have changed between you—how what started as purely physical had grown into something more. Something deeper, more meaningful.

@liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @lovelyvqer @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @iruzias @sleepyycatt @noodlezz-bedo @trinthealternate @azkza @VampyTheGoth

[musical-shit-show]

electric touch

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (“are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”) and #86 (“they don’t need to know.”) from Prompt List 2

Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,363

Author’s Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. That’s about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)

“What’s that?”

You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.

You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.

“What, you didn’t have eyeliner in heaven?” you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.

He shook his head, “Why would we need makeup in a place where everyone’s fuckin’ perfect and poised 24/7?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?

Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.

“Ugh, what is with you, dude?”

His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was…thinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.

“It looks…good.” he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, “I guess I never really noticed it before.” You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.

Ever since he turned up on the hotel’s doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didn’t know; it didn’t particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.

He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.

“Do you…do you want me to put some on you?”

He blinked stupidly. “I’m not gay, toots,” he deadpanned, “Despite what that little spider twink downstairs thinks—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, “But makeup transcends sexuality.” He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.

Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.

Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

He was already ashamed of himself for asking Lucifer’s brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.

Although you were a sinner too, you didn’t judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.

It scared him, though he’d never let you know that. He’d rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.

Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.

“You know,” you drawled, “some of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“And,” you added, “A lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.” He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.

“Ugh, fine,” he whined, “You’re lucky I’m bored, sugartits.” He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.

You couldn’t dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.

You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t get a good look down your shirt.

He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.

Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.

Fuck.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. “Almost done,” you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.

You couldn’t help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained rather…angelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Ah, okay, open up,” you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.

Satan help you. He looked hot.

You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. “Damn babe, I must look pretty good if you’re giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shhhh,” he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you might’ve had a crush on when you were still living.

You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.

“Are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“Fuck, I do look good,” he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?

You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. “Only in your dreams,” you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasn’t visible. Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “They don’t need to know,” he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. “It can be our little secret.”

His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.

You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.

“Charlie’s expecting me,” you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, “Something about more trust exercises—” you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.

He didn’t seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, “But teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.”

You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didn’t matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew you’d be seeing him there later anyways.

Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.

------

thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

[elliesappetite]

The Name That Broke Us (Confrontation)

"To Ashes And Blood" - WOODKID

FREE PALESTINE

Vi x Fem Reader

Rating: 17+

Tags: Angst, mention of caitvi, caitlyn is still in love with vi :(, both sides are right in their own way, vi is confused and scared, y/n is also scared and confused,

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The chill of the night air hit you like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading through your chest. Each step away from the apartment felt heavier than the last, but you forced yourself to keep walking. The streets of the Undercity were quieter than usual, a rare reprieve from the usual chaos. Yet, the silence only amplified the storm in your mind.

You tried to ground yourself, focusing on the sound of your boots against the cracked pavement, the faint hum of distant machinery, the muffled voices of those hidden in the shadows. But no matter what you did, her voice echoed in your head.

“Caitlyn.”

You clenched your fists, trying to banish the name. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to her, not even to Caitlyn, whoever she really was to Vi. You knew the stories, of course. The Enforcer from Piltover. The one who had fought beside Vi, the one who had pulled her out of some of the darkest moments of her life.

You couldn’t compete with a history like that.

Your steps faltered, and you found yourself leaning against a grimy wall in a darkened alley. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. You had been strong in front of Vi; you didn’t want to crumble now. But the weight of everything was suffocating.

She had been your anchor in the chaos of the Undercity, the one person who made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could find a little light in the darkness. But tonight had shattered that illusion.

You exhaled shakily and pushed yourself upright. Standing still wouldn’t help. You needed to move, to do something, anything to keep from spiraling further.

So, you walked.

The Undercity had always been a maze, but tonight it felt even more tangled, like the streets were trying to swallow you whole. You weren’t sure where you were going, but eventually, you ended up at an old bar tucked away from the main drag. It was a place you’d been to a handful of times before, usually when you needed to escape for a while.

The dim lighting and the low murmur of conversations were a welcome contrast to the turmoil in your mind. You slid onto a stool at the bar, nodding to the bartender.

“Something strong,” you muttered.

The bartender, a grizzled man with a kind face, didn’t ask questions. He slid a glass of amber liquid toward you, and you downed it in one go, savoring the burn.

“Rough night?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual but sympathetic.

“You could say that,” you replied, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t press further, moving off to tend to another customer. You appreciated the space.

As you nursed your second drink, the door to the bar creaked open, and you froze. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Y/N.”

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You kept your eyes on your drink, refusing to acknowledge her.

Vi moved closer, stopping a few feet away. You could feel her presence, her energy, like a static charge in the air.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice low and filled with regret. “But I couldn’t just let you walk away like that.”

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to look at her. Her face was drawn, her eyes rimmed with red, and there was a vulnerability in her expression that you rarely saw.

“Why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “So you could apologize again? Try to convince me that Caitlyn doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“She does mean something to me,” Vi admitted, and your heart sank. “But it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, standing to face her. The other patrons in the bar glanced your way, but you didn’t care. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you’re still in love with her.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “But she’s… she’s a part of my past that I can’t just erase. Caitlyn saved me in ways I can’t even explain. She believed in me when no one else did.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “I’ve been here, Vi. I’ve fought for you, stood by you, loved you. Does that not matter?”

“It does,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice softened, and she reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “Y/N, it matters more than you know. But I can’t change the fact that I’m still figuring this out. I’m still figuring me out.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to yell at her for being so unsure, for dragging you into her mess. But deep down, you knew she wasn’t trying to hurt you.

“I can’t keep being your second choice,” you said quietly.

“You’re not,” she insisted, desperation creeping into her voice. “You’re not my second choice, Y/N. You’re the one I want to be with. But I need to make peace with my past before I can give you everything you deserve.”

You stared at her, searching her eyes for some semblance of truth. And you found it. But truth wasn’t enough.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Just… don’t shut me out completely, okay?”

You didn’t respond, turning away and walking toward the door.

The night air hit you again, colder than before, but this time, it felt a little less suffocating. You weren’t sure what the future held, but for now, you were taking things one step at a time.

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The Undercity streets stretched endlessly ahead as you walked, each step a blend of clarity and confusion. The conversation with Vi replayed in your mind like a broken record, her words mingling with your own until you weren’t sure which stung more: the truth she’d spoken or the doubts it left behind.

You didn’t head back to your apartment. The thought of sitting in that small, suffocating space filled with memories of Vi felt unbearable. Instead, you wandered aimlessly, letting the dim glow of neon signs and the distant hum of machinery guide your path.

Eventually, you found yourself on a quiet overlook, a spot you’d discovered years ago when you first moved to the Undercity. From here, you could see the faint glimmer of Piltover far above, its pristine towers a stark contrast to the grime and chaos below. You hated how beautiful it looked, how untouchable.

You sat on the edge of the overlook, letting your legs dangle over the side. The cool metal beneath you was comforting, grounding in a way that your thoughts weren’t.

For a long time, you stayed there, the world around you fading into background noise. You tried to piece together what you were feeling—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but none of it settled into something coherent. All you knew was that Vi’s words had left a hole in your chest that no amount of reasoning could fill.

“Lost in thought?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see a familiar figure stepping out of the shadows. Sevika. Her imposing frame and sharp eyes were impossible to mistake.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, wiping at your eyes hastily.

Sevika leaned against the railing, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. “Saw you wandering. Figured you might need some company.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, turning your gaze back to the horizon.

“Sure you are,” Sevika said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “That’s why you’re out here staring at Piltover like you’re planning to blow it up.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just needed to think.”

“Uh-huh,” Sevika said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Let me guess. Vi?”

You stiffened, and Sevika smirked around the cigarette. “Thought so. What’d she do this time?”

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, not really in the mood to get into the details.

“Complicated,” Sevika echoed, her tone dry. “That’s one way to describe her. Look, I get it—she’s got that whole ‘fight-for-what’s-right’ charm going for her. But she’s also got a knack for dragging people into her mess.”

“She didn’t drag me into anything,” you snapped, defensive despite yourself.

“Didn’t she?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but pointed. “All I’m saying is, maybe it’s time you start asking yourself if you’re doing all the giving while she’s doing all the taking.”

You wanted to argue, but her words struck a nerve.

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Meanwhile, 24 hours later, there was Vi; who was pacing nervously outside a small, unassuming building in the heart of the Undercity. Her hands fidgeted with the straps of her gloves as she tried to calm the storm in her chest. She knew this meeting was a risk, but she couldn’t move forward until she addressed the past.

The door creaked open, and Caitlyn stepped out, her polished Piltover uniform a stark contrast to the grime around her. Her sharp eyes softened when they met Vi’s, and she folded her arms across her chest.

“This is a surprise,” Caitlyn said, her voice neutral but curious. “What made you want to see me Vi?”

“I need to talk,” Vi said, her voice low. “About… everything.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying her. “Everything? That’s vague, even for you.”

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I’ve been a mess lately, okay? And part of that is because of… us. Or what we were. I just need to know where we stand.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Vi, we haven’t been ‘us’ for a long time. I thought we made peace with that.”

“We did,” Vi said quickly. “But I think I’m still holding onto some guilt. Like, I owe you something for everything you did for me back then.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and she stepped forward, her hand brushing Vi’s arm. “You don’t owe me anything, Vi. I helped you because I cared, and because it was the right thing to do. But you’ve moved on, haven’t you?”

Vi hesitated, her mind flickering to you. “Yeah. I have. But sometimes, it feels like I’m dragging that part of my life into something new, and it’s not fair to her.”

Caitlyn gave a soft smile. “Then let it go. You don’t need my permission to be happy, Vi. And if she makes you happy, focus on that.”

Vi's hands started trembling slightly as she fidgeted with her fingers. Caitlyn looked at her with a curious but cautious expression, waiting for her to speak.

Vi sighed, rubbing her temple as if she were preparing herself for something difficult. “the other night, when we were… when we were together, I said your name, Caitlyn, During—" She stopped herself, wincing.

Caitlyn blinked, a brief flash of shock crossing her features before she masked it with a tight smile. “I didn’t know you still felt that way about me, Vi.”

“I don’t,” Vi said quickly, shaking her head. “I love Y/N. But the guilt’s been messing with my head. I think part of me—part of me has just never really let go of everything that happened between us.” She paused, looking up at Caitlyn, her eyes searching for understanding. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Caitlyn stared at her for a long moment, her lips pressed together. Finally, she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “You shouldn’t carry that around, Vi. You owe it to yourself and to Y/N to be clear about what’s in your heart. You can’t keep dragging the past into the present.”

Vi nodded, guilt washing over her again. “I know. I’m just afraid of losing her. I’m afraid I’ve already done that.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, but there was something resigned in her eyes. “If you love them, then fight for them, Vi. But if there’s any part of you still clinging to me, then be honest. With them. With yourself. You can’t be fair to anyone if you’re still holding onto old ghosts.”

Vi swallowed hard, the weight of Caitlyn’s words settling heavy on her chest.

For a moment, Vi felt a weight lifting. She nodded, grateful for Caitlyn’s understanding. “Thanks, Cait. Really.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer, and then she said, almost too softly, “I miss this. Talking to you like this. Being close to you.”

Vi froze, unsure of how to respond. Before she could say anything, Caitlyn leaned in. It happened so fast—her lips brushing against Vi’s, tentative but purposeful.

You turned the corner at that exact moment.

Your heart stopped.

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There they were, standing close, Caitlyn’s hand on Vi’s arm and—no. No. That couldn’t be what it looked like. But it was. Caitlyn kissed Vi, and though you couldn’t see Vi’s expression, the fact that she didn’t pull away immediately was enough to shatter the fragile hope you’d been clinging to.

Your breath hitched, and you stumbled backward, your chest tightening. You didn’t wait to see what happened next. You didn’t want to see Vi’s reaction. Whatever it was, it would hurt too much.

Turning on your heel, you walked away as fast as you could, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

Back at your apartment, you slammed the door behind you, your hands shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Your mind raced with a storm of emotions—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but above all, a crushing sense of clarity.

This was it. There was no fixing this. Vi had made her choice, even if she didn’t realize it yet. And you refused to be the afterthought, the consolation prize.

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By the time Vi returned to the apartment, her thoughts were still a tangled mess. The kiss with Caitlyn had been a mistake—a fleeting moment of confusion that left her sick with guilt. All she wanted now was to see you, to explain everything and make it right.

“Y/N?” she called out as she opened the door. The apartment was eerily quiet, and her heart sank.

She found you in the bedroom, your bag open on the bed, half-filled with clothes and essentials. Your back was to her, but your movements were hurried and frantic, as if you were racing against your own emotions.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Vi asked, stepping into the room.

You froze for a moment before turning to face her, your expression a mix of heartbreak and determination. “What does it look like?”

Vi’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Why? What happened?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why don’t you tell me, Vi? Or should I ask Caitlyn?”

Her confusion was replaced by realization, her face paling. “You… you saw?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain. “I saw. I saw her kiss you. And I saw you not pulling away.”

Vi stepped closer, panic evident in her eyes. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t kiss her back. I didn’t want—”

You held up a hand, cutting her off. “I don’t care what you wanted, Vi. What matters is that it happened. And that’s not something I can just ignore.”

She reached out to you, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling insurmountable.

“Y/N, please,” Vi pleaded. “You have to believe me. I love you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you keep dragging me into this mess with Caitlyn? I’ve tried so hard to be enough for you, but I’m done trying. I deserve better than this.”

Vi’s shoulders slumped, and she looked at you with an expression that might’ve broken your resolve if you weren’t already so hurt.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she said softly.

“Maybe not,” you replied, your voice steady now. “But it did. And I’m not going to stand here and wait for the next time you ‘didn’t mean’ to hurt me.”

You zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Vi looked like she wanted to say more, but you didn’t give her the chance.

“I’m done, Vi,” you said, your tone final. “Figure out what you want. But don’t come looking for me until you do.”

With that, you walked past her and out the door, leaving behind the memories and the love that had once felt unshakable. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were putting yourself first. And though it hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do.

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Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this.

Please keep supporting Palestine.

If you want to be in my taglist let me know <3.

Taglist: @almooshiii

[gay-dorito-dust]

I came from your Saltburn post, I will do anything to read some Oliver quick fluff. Wether the reader is sick or how they’d get along at a party and be drunk together 🫶

Oliver, upon overhearing from your friends that you had come down with a common cold, immediately decides to take advantage of the situation in hopes of getting closer to you; by proving to you that he would be there for you in your time of need. Sick or otherwise.

Oliver would act overly sympathetic towards you during your recovery period, considering how vulnerable and susceptible you looked, especially as you took respite within the comfort of your bed; in hopes to evade going through yet another violent episode of cold shivers as you stared at him through bleary eyes.

‘Oliver.’ You asked, voice raspy from the continuous coughing you’ve been doing since this morning. ‘What’re you doing here, didn’t nobody tell you I was sick?’ You add, not wanting him nor your worst enemy to experience what you were currently going through. It was hell, pure, genuine hell. You couldn’t even stick one limb out of bed before immeditly retreating back under the covers.

It also didn’t help that your favourite pair of fluffy slippers were halfway across the room…

‘Oh, I overheard from a few of your friends that you weren’t well, and took it upon myself to bring a couple of things that I’d think would help.’ Oliver replied as he then awkwardly lifted the bag full of snacks, medication, amongst many other things with a sheepish shrug of the shoulder. You smiled softly. How sweet. You thought to yourself as you watched Oliver begin to unload the contents of the bag onto your bed. ‘You didn’t have to do this all for me Ollie, I don’t want you getting sick or anything because of me.’ You told him but Oliver only gave you a smile in response as his beautiful eyes stared at you intently with an expression you couldn’t quite place your finger on…

Oliver on the other hand was thriving, sure he wanted you to get better in due time, but until then he’ll engrave your dependency on him so deeply and so intricately into the depths of his mind forevermore; acting more or less as a delusional self serving reminder to himself that you needed him to function in this life filled with vapid cunts and losers.

He was all you needed in life and he was more than willing to risk catching your sickness if it meant furthering his ambitions of further integrating himself into your life fully. If anything Oliver hopes he catches your sickness so that you would feel the need to pay the kindness he had displayed towards you forward.

‘It’s alright y/n, honestly.’ Oliver said with a chuckle as he made sure you were tightly tucked in and your pillows were fluffed for extra comfort, making sure that you see the effort he puts in just for you and only you, just like he always has done before seating himself comfortably on the edge of your bed, always conscious of being fully within your line of sight as his body acted as a blockade for your sight of the doorway; forcing you to look at solely him.

‘I’m not scared of getting a little sick if it meant helping you back to full health, isn’t that what friends are for? Helping each other?’ Oliver adds in an odd tone, but you were adamant it was the cold talking, and only continue to smile at his seemingly sweet and caring actions. ‘You’re the best Ollie, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ You uttered whilst biting back a yawn, the need for sleep having begun to take over once more as your eyelids began to grow heavy and harder to keep open with each blink. ‘You’re truly a lifesaver Oliver Quick and I love you for that.’ You added on in a sleepy daze.

To Oliver on the other hand, you might as well have been cohesive and clear as day, with how intently he hung onto those words, feeling a strong fluttering sensation within his chest; something he always got whenever you said anything that remotely encouraged his obsessive and suffocating behaviour. Slowly but surely he was getting what he wanted and he wasn’t about to rush the process now, not with how much meticulous planning he had put into every chance encounter he got with you.

Oliver had to practice his patience more but you were too tempting of a person for him not to lunge towards. A forbidden fruit laid within the garden of Eden in every sense of the word.

‘I love you too.’ He said in a low murmur before running his hand across your forehead, collecting the accumulated sweat there. ‘Get some rest, it’s fine,’ Oliver utters as he watched your eyes close and your body settles in for sleep, ‘ for I’ll be here when you wake up.’ He finishes, eyes never once leaving you for a single second.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hellllo 𑁍 I’m back again! Have to say your theme for your celebration is so pretty and lovely!!! I’d love to order a STORY IN A SHELL 🐚 with Lorenzo, the trope brothers best friend and the song talk talk by Charlixcx thank you lovely!!!

Ayi thank you so much, Pizza!!! I hope you like it <33

ivy's 1k celebration 🦪 navigation 🦪 characters

ˋ°•*⁀➷ LORENZO BERKSHIRE brother's best friend with talk talk by charlixcx

The tension was unbearable.

You leaned against the cool stone wall of the dimly lit Slytherin common room, trying to appear indifferent as your brother Theo laughed loudly with his friends across the room. Among them, Lorenzo Berkshire stood out like a neon sign against the dull hum of a conversation. His casual smirk, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, and the sharp glint in his eyes—it was impossible to look away.

You’d been nursing this maddening attraction for months, exchanging fleeting glances and whispered secrets in hidden corners of the castle. But here? In front of Theo and his group of overprotective, judgmental friends? Neither of you dared acknowledge the weight of what was happening between you.

Still, you could feel his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, Lorenzo was leaning back in his chair, his legs stretched out as if he owned the place. He wasn’t looking directly at you, but you knew. Every nerve in your body was aware of it. He was trying to be subtle, but you’d caught him too many times now to mistake it for anything else.

He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The hallway was eerily silent, save for the muffled laughter from the common room. You stood by the bathroom door, willing your erratic heartbeat to calm down. The party wasn’t even that interesting; you’d only come because Theo insisted. Or rather, because you knew Lorenzo would be here.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door creaked open, and there he was. Lorenzo froze for half a second when he saw you, his hand lingering on the doorframe. His brows furrowed slightly before his features melted into that signature, lazy smirk.

“Following me now, are we?” His voice was a low drawl, teasing yet edged with something darker.

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Berkshire.”

But he took a step closer, crowding you against the wall. His cologne—warm, spicy, intoxicating—wrapped around you, making it impossible to think straight. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want something, or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Your breath hitched. The hallway felt impossibly small now, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

“I could say the same to you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly. “All those looks across the room—you think I don’t notice?”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “I can’t help it,” he admitted, his tone softening. “You’re all I think about. But…” He hesitated, glancing toward the common room. “Theo…”

Theo. Your brother. Lorenzo’s best friend. The reason this was so complicated.

“I don’t care about Theo,” you said, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words. “Do you?”

He let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. “Of course I care. He’d kill me if he knew.”

Something in you snapped. You’d been keeping this a secret for too long, tiptoeing around each other while pretending nothing was happening. You pushed against his chest, creating just enough space to slip out from under his gaze.

“Then maybe you should stop staring,” you said coolly, though your heart was breaking with every word. “If you’re too scared to do anything about it, then stop pretending like you’re not.”

You turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. The heat of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Wait.”

You froze, your back still to him.

“I don’t want to stop,” he said, his voice rough and laced with desperation. “But this isn’t just about Theo. It’s about you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Slowly, you turned to face him. The vulnerability in his eyes was staggering, stripping away the cocky facade he usually wore like armor.

“Then don’t,” you whispered.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, Lorenzo closed the distance between you. His hands cupped your face, his lips crashing into yours with a fervor that stole your breath.

It was everything. Months of pent-up tension, of stolen glances and quiet yearning, poured into one kiss. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as your fingers clutched at his shirt.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

“This is insane,” he murmured, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“Completely,” you agreed, breathless.

The next few weeks were a blur of stolen moments. Secret kisses in empty classrooms, late-night whispers in the library, and fleeting touches when no one was looking. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

But the secrecy was starting to wear on you.

One night, as you sat together in the Astronomy Tower, Lorenzo’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“This isn’t enough,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible over the wind.

He stiffened beside you, his grip tightening slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of pretending like we’re nothing when we’re around other people.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know why we have to, don’t you?”

“Do I?” you shot back, pulling away from him. “Because all I see is someone who’s too scared to stand up for what he wants.”

The hurt in his eyes was immediate, cutting through you like a knife.

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low and strained. “You think this is easy for me? Do you think I don’t want to tell everyone, to tell Theo, to shout it from the bloody rooftops?”

“Then why don’t you?” you demanded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Because I’m terrified of losing you!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty tower.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I’m terrified of screwing this up,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Of losing you and Theo and everything I care about.”

Your heart clenched at the raw emotion in his words. Slowly, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“You won’t lose me,” you said softly. “But I need to know that I mean enough to you to fight for this. For us.”

His gaze searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he nodded, his jaw set with determination.

“You mean everything to me,” he said firmly. “And I’ll prove it. I’ll talk to Theo. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Relief washed over you, and you leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Just talk to me,” you whispered against his mouth. “That’s all I need.”

And for the first time, it felt like everything might just fall into place.

[fineghkst]

How Azriel acts around his mate

i’m thinking of turning this into a series so let me know if you guys would be interested (you can also choose which character i should do next)

warnings: suggestive

At the moment he finds out

Azriel couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. It was the first time in a while the spymaster got speechless. Az is most likely to create a ragged excuse and leave as soon as possible (yes, he’s definitely panicking), going to some isolated place to understand that he finally found his mate.

How he acts?

Azriel definitely doesn’t know how to act around his mate once the bond snaps. He probably will act very awkward at the beginning, not knowing if he should tell his mate about it (considering they didn’t felt the bond yet) or wait until they realize.

Therefore, Azriel will need some time to digest that he finally has a mate. Az feels really insecure, thinking he’s not good enough for them and believing they won’t accept the bond. Even so, Azriel really tries to be the best he can to his mate, he’s always there, showing support at every situation. He’s also very kind and just wants to see his mate happy.

Will he tell anyone?

No. Az will hide it as much as he can. Azriel is a very private person and probably wants to figure out this new situation by himself. On the other hand, he knows how his brothers are a pain in the ass, so Az rather avoid to listen to the stuff they’re going to say. At least until his mate discover the bond by themself, he won’t talk about it, preventing them from ending up knowing from someone else

But once his mate accepts the bond Azriel’s behavior changes completely, he’s almost announcing to the world, constantly touching his mate in public.

When his mate feels the bond

He’s scared. Really, Azriel never felt this type of fear his whole life, to be rejected by the person who was supposed to be with him for the rest of his life. However, even if he’s terrified, Az forces himself to be honest about his feelings towards his mate.

He has never opened up that much to someone before, exposing an extremely vulnerable side.

If his mate needs some time, he will be very understandable and wait as long as necessary. Az will never pressure his mate to accept the bond or even give him an answer (please he’s the biggest gentleman out there).

When his mate accepts the bond

Az finally feels complete. His mate is his family, the person he trusts the most and is willing to do anything only to make them smile.

As i said before, Az didn’t feel enough for his mate, so he always thought they wouldn’t accept to be bonded to him forever. Honestly, he’s in a deep state of happiness, it’s like he’s finally found his home, his place in the world.

And as SJM said before, Az is a freak, so yeah, not leaving the room any time soon after that.

Things he loves to do with his mate

Pretty much everything. Azriel his happy to go anywhere or do anything if he has his mate to accompany.

It can be to comb their hair to having deep conversations at midnight. Az just loves to be with them.

Does he often feels jealous?

It depends on the situation. Azriel really trusts his mate, but if someone gets too flirty around them, he will definitely be jealous (and kinda insecure). He’s not likely to make a scene but will have a frown on his face for the rest of the night.

Favorite body part

He’s addicted to every single part of his mate, showing true devotion to their body everyday. He loves to kiss their soft lips, neck and inner thighs (he just can’t keep his hands away).

PDA

Even though Azriel is a very reserved person, he’s constantly touching his mate in public, always having a hand on their waist, holding their hand or kissing them. He usually doesn’t go too foward, but it depends on the situation, if he spends a lot of time away on a mission, will definitely be more clingy.

In short, I don’t see him caring much if someone his looking, but he prefers when they have more privacy.

How often he says “I love you?”

Everyday. He just wants his mate to be sure of his feelings. Az not only say it with words, but always demonstrate with his actions.

Protectiveness

Azriel is really overprotective. He’s terrified on losing his mate so they will always have his shadows with them, almost turning into a part of them.

Random bonus

Before every snowball fight Azriel always spends the whole year planning a new strategy to beat his brothers asses. He will share EVERY SINGLE DETAIL to his mate and even accept suggestions to improve it.

Once he wins, Az will celebrate a lot with his mate (if you get what I mean…)