#he's back and all of that has been undone

[will-0-w]

Sticky Situation

Summary: After your relationship with Sylus has reached a more shared bond, he allows you to visit him anytime in the N109 Zone, even giving you a spare key to his home. So what happens when you turn up unexpectedly after his mission had gone slightly against his favours and an aphrodisiac was slipped into his drink? One night will change it all between you two.

Warnings: smut! 18+ mdni, male masturbation, unprotected pinv, desperate and needy Sylus, aphrodisiacs, pet names, he is lowkey feral, face sitting, riding, lowkey this whole thing feels like word vomit, word count: 1.6k, not proof read

author’s note: apologies for the super late post on this fic, motivation has been down the drain lately and i wrote this while half awake :’) but i hope you lovelies enjoy<3

Sylus was at yet, another boring weapons auction but this time he had decided to go alone on a mission to retrieve a pair of black market revolvers for his ever growing collection back home. The whole auction was smooth sailing from the moment he entered the place. What seemed like endless hours of conversations and mingling was only three hours. And also the point where it all began to go downhill for him.

That exact point was where Sylus had taken some time to check out the bar, nursing some bourbon. His guard was slightly down, a mistake he only realised later when an old time friend had approached him for a long overdue conversation. In fact his guard was lowered so much during that conversation, glass abandoned on the counter that he failed to notice the shady man slowly moving unto his location.

The man had left a respectable amount of distance between himself and Sylus, swiftly and discreetly pouring something into his drink and disappearing as quickly as he had previously arrived.

Which is how he had ended up stumbling through his bedroom door an hour later, his skin on fire, flushed and warm. His dark, crimson eyes glowing more intensely than usual, pupils dilated. Sylus fumbled with his tie, grasping at it, pulling at it until it finally came off. The first few buttons undone on his shirt as he collapsed onto the silk sheets of the large bed. A primal need for release was rooted into his veins and he cursed himself for being so careless at the auction.

Sylus’s breathing was heavy and laboured with each intake of air he took, chest rising and falling rapidly. After a couple seconds of toying with his belt and zipper he managed to undo them and slip his trousers, along with his boxers down just enough to free his aching, hard cock. Pre cum already oozing down from his tip and down the pulsating length, trailing along a deliciously prominent vein.

Griping the base of his length with his large hand, the warmth from his palm felt like a heater against the skin. Slowly, he began to jerk himself, hand squeezing his cock-head every time his hand went up causing him to pant and groan shamelessly like some animal in heat, which is how he felt right now. With his head thrown back against the headboard, eyes squeezed tightly shut continuing his ministrations. His hips lifting occasionally to match the pace of his hand.

So lost in pleasure and failing to notice your presence standing by the doorway, Sylus let out more moans which bordered on pornographic. You were frozen on the spot, eyes drinking in the sight of him. The room suddenly felt so hot and your throat was as dry as a desert, heat started in pool in your lower belly and you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together. A soft plea of your name fell from his lips, so tantalising and sinful making the apples of your cheeks warm up and flush a soft pink.

As if right on cue, Sylus’s gaze fell upon you and everything in his brain was screaming at him to half his actions but nothing could bring him to stop. Sure, your unexpected drop in was a surprise but the raw and primal need coursing through his entire being was consuming every moral thought. His mind was fuzzy, a complete blur and then—there was you. Looking like a deer caught in headlights and he thought how cute you looked, so flushed, fiddling with your hands, trying to avert his hot gaze.

“Kitten, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” He all but purred that sentence causing you to stutter slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Luke and Kieran had informed me that you were at an auction today.” That simple statement earned a soft hum followed by a nod from Sylus. “So you thought you could just drop by? Perhaps snoop through my things?” He was teasing you, obviously enjoying the reactions that he could get out of you.

Before you could even reply Sylus had risen from the bed and swiftly made his way over to you, moving like a panther stalking its prey. Once in front of you, you could now very clearly see that his breathing was heavy and laboured, skin flushed and emanating warmth. “Well anyways how did the auction go?”

“Swimmingly.” He all but scoffed, red eyes piercing into your very soul. As you reached a hand to inspect his forehead Sylus flinched slightly and let out a soft hiss. “Are you ill? Did you catch something while you were gone?” The concern was evident in your tone, expression softening .

“Does it look like I’m ill, sweetie?” Sylus still managed to keep up his smug facade even while going through the effects of the aphrodisiac. “Well you just look—“

Your words were cut short as he leaned forward, caging you in against the now closed door of the bedroom. It was like something snapped within him as your perfume filled his nose, the scent so intoxicating and strong. “mm, your scent..i want it, i want you..” Sylus nuzzled his face into the softness of your neck.

‘He’s clearly lost it.’ You thought to yourself, begrudgingly.

“We should get you to bed, you need to sleep this off.” You mumbled against his ear as his warm breath fanned against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“No.” Was the response that immediately followed.

Sylus' hands found yours, pinning them up against the wall on either side of your head. He pressed down against you, his body moulding against yours. You could feel the hard lines and unyielding planes of his lean physique, the heat of his skin against yours setting your body aflame. "I don't want to sleep," he whispered into your ear, his voice a ragged murmur. Trying to talk some sense into him was practically impossible at this moment, his mind clouded with only the thoughts of your body against his.

That’s how you both ended up on his bed in a tangle of limbs, clawing off each other’s clothes desperately. Lips attached with one another in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. Easily gripping your hips, fingers digging eagerly into your skin as Sylus manoeuvred you onto his lap above his aching member, begging to be buried inside your warm walls.

As the kiss broke a single strand of saliva that connected your mouths was enough evidence of the atmosphere and tension between the both of you. As you straddled his lap, hovering just above the leaking tip you slowly eased yourself down his impressively large length, greedy pussy sucking him in just begging for more.

A soft, breathy andbarely audible “fuuuckk” fell from his soft, plump lips. His head falling back against the headboard as you settled comfortably down on his lap, his cock snuggly buried inside your wet cunt. You stayed like that for a few moments, hands resting against his broad shoulders. The way he looked at you almost made you shy away, Sylus’s gaze was full of desire and need, the need for you to start moving as he was slowly loosing sanity.

The moment your hips started to move, rising and falling again and again was the moment Sylus finally lost himself. Down right pornographic moans spilling from his mouth with absolutely no shame whatsoever. Large hands roaming your body as he reached the mounds of your breasts, giving them a firm squeeze and occasionally pinching the hardened buds causing a few mewls of your own to slip out.

As you continued bouncing on his cock, Sylus felt like he was on cloud nine. Leaning forward he captured one of your nipples in his mouth, warm and wet. Tongue circling, teeth scraping against the sensitive bud which encouraged you to move faster, to chase that high you both so dearly ached for. With a couple more sloppy movements and occasional jerky snaps of Sylus’s hips, you felt the impending waves of your orgasm crash over you, eyes rolling back and mouth falling into an ‘O’ shape as you came down. The feel of your juices gushing and coating his length was enough for Sylus to also let go, warm ropes of his sticky cum shooting up into your pussy.

The effects of the aphrodisiac had seemed to lessen but Sylus wasn’t fully satisfied yet. And just as you were about to collapse against his solid, comforting chest Sylus had other plans in mind and swiftly lifted you off of his softening cock, pulling you up near his face as he laid back. “Sylus.. what are you doing? I’m still—“

“I know sweetie, but just let me clean you up, yeah?” Seeming as you didn’t protest any further he managed to make you hover above his face, your pussy all on display for him.

“Wait Sylus are you sure that—“ You moaned softly as your pussy made contact with his tongue, hands reaching down to tangle in his silky strands of hair. His tongue was merciless as it lapped up your shared release, the taste of himself filled his mouth causing a soft groan sending small vibrations to your core.

You were so overstimulated and felt another wave of release crashing over you, releasing that sweet nectar for Sylus to greedily lap up, not daring to waste a drop. With a final suck, he let you collapse next to him on the sheets. Your body was so sore and tired as you curled up against him.

As gently and softly as he could, Sylus brought the covers up to shield both your bodies, wrapping his strong arms in a protective embrace. Slumber taking over your minds.

taglist: @whimsiecat @luxmere @madam8 @fava-boi @sylus-crow @ikesimpleton @coldhologramcrown @holdmyravioli @babygirl-panda19 @mianeryh @sinsodom @caramelizedpopcirn @ineffableperception @amywright @chillycheem @lowkeyabby2229 @goddexxluv @alyyylog @depressedbearblogs @for-hearthand-home

unfortunately it wouldn’t let me tag some of you, so apologies for that!

[svtswhorehouse]

SVT : the daddy kink line — nsfw

Seungcheol: pls tell us something we don’t know, isn’t this one obvious. this man radiates so much power and authority, his aura practically SCREAMS daddy. you would call it straight off the bat before you two even started dating that he had the kink. the way he presented himself let you know it, but curiosity kills the cat right ??? (the cat being your pussy.) he wouldn’t even have to tell you. the word would just casually slip out of your mouth in a whine mid-fuck and he would stop for a beat before thrusting into you at lightning speed. ever since then, it became a name you would use every time y’all had sex and even if you wanted to let it go and quit using it, you just wouldn’t be able to help yourself from calling him daddy. not when he towers over you and makes you feel so damn good that you’re seeing stars.

Jeonghan: a flipping fucking tease. he would force it out of you for sure. leading up to it he would make jokes and subtle hints about calling him daddy, but you’d never think he would be serious about it. fast forward to you at his mercy laying on the bed completely bare and spread open for him. he would’ve been edging you for hours, his favorite past time — a sly smirk on his face as he holds off on letting you cum undone until he hears the very word escape from your mouth. you would refuse at first. not because you didn’t want to, but rather because you were far too stubborn to give in to him. jeonghan however has no problem with ruining your orgasm over and over again until you reach your breaking point and practically yell out the name with incoherent begs following it. that fucker would smile wide and big before faking sympathy and telling you that’s all you had to say if you really wanted to cum that badly. he would ruin your orgasm a few more times after that, just to remind you that one: he always gets what he wants, and two: to hear you call him daddy a few more times before he finally gives in to your desperation.

Soonyoung: hear me out — this man didn’t even know he had a daddy kink. soonyoung has definitely thought about it before, but pushed it to the back of his mind as he claimed it to be silly. it wasn’t until you were playfully teasing him one day in which the switch just flipped and he was like “damn, maybe i do have a daddy kink.” he would bring it up in the middle of eating you out. you were almost there, just needed a little push over the edge to bring you to an orgasm when he drops what he’s doing entirely. any other day you might’ve laughed in his face when insisted you call him daddy, but that night — the way he said it, he didn’t even ask for it. no, he demanded it. voice rough and stern, you just found the name slipping from your lips so easily in a desperate plea for him to continue his relentlessness on your sopping wet cunt.

Wonwoo: the thought of calling wonwoo daddy would cross your mind occasionally, however he has a sir kink and has never seemed to care about being called anything but. yes sir this and please sir that — but, you just can’t help but wonder if he would mind you calling him daddy. the opportunity arises when you found yourself on your knees infront of him one day, completely bare and ready to be good for him. he would ask you a question and you would answer with a lack of manners that he would remind you about. that was when you would strike. “yes daddy.” he was toast. you could tell he had to hold back a groan too as he was quick to skip everything else he would normally go through and instead get inside of you as fast as he could. “daddy huh?” he would ask, thrusting at an almost inhumane speed, bringing you to your orgasm much too quickly. you wouldn’t be able to do anything, but moan the word over and over again, only pushing him to fuck you harder. from that day on he ditched the sir kink. you awakened something inside of him he wished he heard from you a lot sooner. he was missing out all this time.

Mingyu: hear me out again — he can cook, he can clean, he can take care of you in more ways than one, he’s HUGE. yupppp, that’s a daddy right there. when he cages you in with his big muscular arms and overstimulates you to the point in which you’re teetering on the edge of subspace is when you find yourself calling him by the name. it leaves your mouth in a whine and it doesn’t faze him at all as he hums in acknowledgment and continues to nip at your neck. he becomes so attentive when you call him it, but still refuses to let up, the word fueling his need to bring you to another orgasm even if it would leave your brain even more empty than it already is. it’s not something he genuinely needs to hear whenever you two have sex but my god does it make his cock twitch and fuel his sex drive. once you use it for the night, you can sure as hell bet that you would be calling him daddy for the rest of the time you two spend fucking because when he hears it he won’t allow you to call him anything else.

[eddiegettingshot]

your prompt for today: pink🩷

When their night out winds down, and they land on Eddie’s doorstep, Buck’s gut begins to prickle with sudden nerves, or maybe anticipation. He really can’t tell the difference. Strange, because he thought he’d been handling being on a first date with his best friend pretty well. After all, it’s a song and dance that’s usually about making a good first impression, and not only did that ship sail years ago, but Buck didn’t even get it right. So dinner just felt like dinner, except for the fact that Eddie kept their feet tucked together beneath the table the whole time.

Granted, there were a few days where Buck kept forgetting anything had changed between them if they weren’t physically together, if Eddie didn’t have a hand on him, like he’d lost all sense of object permanence where Eddie was concerned. What’s startling is that in most ways, nothing has. 

Like this: Eddie turns to him now as he unlocks his front door, brow arched. 

“What, you got somewhere else to be?” he asks.

Buck doesn’t bother asking what Eddie had seen in him, that he’d decided he needed to stake an explicit claim on the rest of Buck’s night (and, with luck, the morning?). It’s not like he’s in the habit of playing things close to the vest, but half the time he doesn’t even need to say a word—not to Eddie. He’d been peeled open long before he knew he had anything to confess.

Easy to imagine: himself, held in the tender cradle of Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s thumbs feeling down his center to find the tenderest spot, pushing deep all at once, prying him apart—through the rind of him, his ribcage, so all his insides, overripe with adoration, come spilling out into Eddie’s palms. That’s how it feels. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“No,” he says, shuffling closer. He’d been hanging back, playing with his car keys in his pocket.  “No, I—I’m coming in.”

“Good.” 

Eddie sounds so openly pleased. Warmth spills through Buck’s spine. He hadn’t considered that he wasn’t alone in this—bracing against some new humming energy, staring too closely at the back of Eddie’s neck—but he watches Eddie’s shoulders soften, right before he lets Buck inside.

Then, once Buck’s on the couch, thinking really intently about how they’re going to occupy it together (it’s been a busy week; they haven’t even seen enough of each other for Buck to have adapted to their new rules of engagement. Can he crawl into Eddie’s lap?), Eddie pauses, says, “Uh, hold on,” and bustles off to the kitchen. 

He returns with a lighter for the candle sitting on the coffee table, which is—new. Buck hadn’t noticed until now. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie light a candle in all the years he’s spent in this house, and now his lip is trapped between his teeth as he does it, avoiding Buck’s eyes all the while.

It hits Buck hard and fast: Eddie is really, really nervous. And trying to be romantic, for Buck. And if he crawled into Eddie’s lap, probably Eddie would laugh, and let him; he’s allowed. And maybe nothing feels different but it’s all changed. That’s what Buck wants, for once. That’s what Eddie wants, judging by his wide dark eyes, flushed cheeks, the flickering candlelight. Sometimes Buck’s slow on the uptake. This time, he might have just been scared. 

“You look nice,” Buck says. 

Kind of bad timing—Eddie’s just in his socks; he’d shed his jacket and the fancy watch Buck’s only seen him break out a couple times; he’d undone the first couple of buttons on his shirt; he must have run his hands through his hair when he was out of sight, since it’s falling halfway down his forehead. Buck should have said something when he picked Eddie up—he’d thought it, then, but he had been so comfortable with Eddie in his passenger seat, he didn’t want to risk making things weird.

Eddie’s laugh is just a soft puff of air. He relaxes. “Thanks,” he says, coming around to sink down beside Buck, turning a knee out so they’re touching, as if by reflex. 

“I like that color on you,” Buck continues. “Always have.”

“Hm,” Eddie says, smiling. He’s in rose pink. He’s also leaning closer, lifting a hand and brushing his fingertips down Buck’s brow, his cheek. His eyes flicker, and suddenly they’re trained on Buck’s mouth. Buck’s stomach swoops boyishly. “It’s a good color.”

Holy shit, Buck thinks, head full of jasmine and honey and smoke and the cologne Eddie’s wearing, something unfamiliar with an exotic spiced note. They kissed before—they’ve been kissing all week—except this time Buck starts whimpering before their lips meet, and Eddie swallows whatever strangled noise he makes with a grin. Buck lurches in, fisting urgent hands into the front of Eddie’s shirt. 

“Eddie,” he pants after a while. It’s hard-won, because Eddie is demanding, and he bites. “Eddie, are you sure?” 

Now that they’ve done it, like, really crossed the line, gotten a taste—he’s gotta know if this is what Eddie was looking for, when he told Buck he loved him. Not just the sex, which they’re definitely about to have—all of it. Buck shoves his knuckles against Eddie’s chest to feel his heart gallop, hard but steady like it grew Thoroughbred legs. 

Eddie’s cupping his face in both hands while they kiss. He pulls away, not far, and surveys Buck the way he would a patient: like he’s trying to puzzle out what’s going on beneath Buck’s skin, in all the places he can’t quite reach.

“Buck,” he says, gently. “Of course.” 

He pushes his thumb between Buck’s teeth. Satisfied, Buck drags him back in.

[arcadia-smith]

TW: 18+, dominance, dirty talk, P in V, face fuck.

Imagine RP with Simon Riley.

You've been married to Simon for ages. And now that he's been retired for the sake of your mental health, it had been going good.

Sex in bed, shower, on the kitchen counter, up in the attic, the garage. There's no place you haven't done it.

And yes, it has gotten repetitive. Maybe because you've been having sex five times a day, that's the count for bad days, on good ones, it happens even more.

So here you are now, on your knees, in front of him. Your hand slowly reaching for the zipper of your dress, it coming undone with a soft hiss.

The garment falls away, leaving you clad only in a delicate lace bra and matching panties. You look up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed "Please, sir... may I remove these as well?" you ask, hands hovering over the skimpy lingerie.

Yes, yes, it was Simon's idea. Both of you playing out some kind of fantasy.

He nods curtly, his voice low and roughened with desire "Remove them. I want to see that tight little pussy, all pink and slick for me."

As you comply, shedding the last of your clothing, Simon's gaze rakes over your body. When you're completely nude, he steps forward, towering over you.

"You're so fucking perfect, Love." He growls, hooking two of his fingers under your chin to pull you up to your feet.

His hands slide down to your hips, fingers digging into the skin.

You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers splaying across the firm muscles of his back as you press yourself more firmly against him.

You can feel his arousal press against your stomach.

"Please.. can I touch you, Sir?" You whisper in the most innocent voice you can manage.

With a low grunt, he spins you around, pinning your back against his chest.

One hand slides up your side to cup your breast, thumb flicking over the pert nipple while the other hand trails down your stomach, dipping into the wet heat of your sex. "So eager, aren't you?" he rasps, fingers delving deeper to stroke your inner walls. "Such a greedy little cunt, desperate for my cock."

He withdraws his hand, bringing it to his mouth to lick your essence from his fingers. The taste only fuels his desire, and he quickly sheds his clothes, revealing his powerful physique. His erection stands proud, thick and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You slowly turn around, facing him, you reach out tentatively, tracing a finger along the ridged length of his shaft. "It's so big, Simon," you whispered looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Will it fit inside me?"

And then you erupt in laughter, shaking your head "Oh my god, Simon. This is so stupid."

Simon let out a low growl, staring at you "Babe.."

You place your index finger on his lips "Calling you Sir, okay, yeah, I can manage. But asking that question?" You try to catch your breath for a moment, trying to keep the laughter away "Of course it will fit, we've had sex already twice today. And plenty more times in these years we've been married."

Simon brushes your hand away from his face, letting out a low sigh "See what you did?" He nods down to his now half-hard cock "You sure know how to ruin the mood."

You bite your lower lip, to stop another wave of laughter from breaking free. Then you reach down, fingers wrapping around his cock, stoking him slowly.

"Okay okay. I'll be better... Sir," without waiting for an answer, you sink to your knees once more.

With a firm grip on your hair, he guides you closer, the head of his dick brushing against your parted lips.

He thrusts forward, sinking into the warm, wet embrace of your mouth. Simon groans at the exquisite sensation, his hips jerking involuntarily as he buries himself to the hilt between your plump cheeks.

Your eyes flutter shut as Simon's thick length invades your mouth, the salty tang of his precum mingling with your saliva. You relax your throat, allowing him to slide deeper, until his pubic bone rests against your nose.The musky scent of his arousal fills your senses, making your head spin with lust.

You begin to bob your head, taking him in and out of your mouth with increasing enthusiasm. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive underside of his shaft, lapping at the droplets of fluid that leak from the tip.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his voice roughened by desire. "Take every inch, you filthy little slut."

His hips start to move in sync with your bobbing head, fucking your face with increasing urgency. The lewd sounds of your encounter fill the room – the slurping of your mouth, the squelching of your saliva, and the rhythmic slap of his balls against your chin.

Just when he thinks he might explode, Simon wrenches himself free from your lips with a harsh tug on your hair. "Enough," 

He grabs your arms and hauls you to your feet, pressing your back against the wall. His hands roam your body possessively, squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples until they're stiff peaks.

"You've had your fun, princess," he rasps, his hot breath fanning across your face. "Now it's my turn to play." With a swift motion, he lifts your legs, hooking them over his hips as he notches the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. "Tell me how much you want this,cock inside you. Admit how badly you crave to be filled by me, to have your tight little pussy stretched to its limits by my massive dick."

He teases you with the tip, circling it around your clit before sliding it up and down your slick slit, coating himself in your arousal.

"I'm going to fuck you raw, princess," he warns, his eyes blazing with a ruthless intensity. "I'll pound this cunt until you're screaming my name, until you're nothing but a quivering mess of pleasure and pain."

With that, he slams forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

What Simon was supposed to do, was keep up a ruthless pace without any mercy, an act of a real asshole who thinks just about dominance and himself. You had come up with a safe word for a reason.

But as a second scream erupts from your lips, a scream more of pain than pleasure, his movements still.

Your head snaps to meet his eyes "What... Simon." You mumble. You hadn't used the safe word. So why did he stop?

Simon places a soft kiss on your lips, his movements now as loving and soft as possible.

He might be a rough looking man but with you, he's a soft teddy bear. And even with your approval, he can never be rough with you.

[hederasgarden]

Eternal Devotion (3/3)

Summary: Months after your husband's untimely death, his presence lingers, haunting you in ways you never expected.  Pairing: Vampire!Friedrich Harding x Wife!Reader   Word Count: 6.6K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, period typical sexism, creepy things, vampirism, blood, and sexual content. Not all themes are tagged. A/N:  The reader has always been Friedrich’s wife, Anna does not exist in this AU. Big thanks to @ryebecca, @otaku-girl-ao3, @whatblogisthis216 , @eremeldanin and @bellrose for their help with this fic.   Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

"When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it." - Caitlyn Siehl 

In the quiet of your bedroom, you find yourself suddenly shy as you watch Friedrich move through the space you once shared as if he never left at all. He shrugs off his coat, untying his cravat and tosses it carelessly across the chair along with his gloves. When he sees you lingering in the doorway, a sweet, amused smile plays at the corners of his lips.

"Come here, my love," he calls softly, his hand reaching out, waiting for yours.

You step into his embrace, and he inhales deeply.

“You are a vision in red,” he whispers, trailing the back of his hand down your bare arm, the cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “And your smell,” he groans, “I have missed it.”

You turn your head, lips gliding over his cheek before finding his mouth. His hands slide to your waist, but he stays still, letting you guide the kiss. You moan and the sound seems to awaken something within him, the pressure on your sides increasing until it forces the air from your lungs painfully. In response, you curl your fingers into the rich fabric of his shirt, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t respond to your distress, his mouth moving hungrily over yours, his tongue ravenous for a taste of you.

Blood roars in your ears, and you sway on your feet, dizzy and desperate for air. When his mouth finally leaves yours, you gasp, your body sagging in his arms. Yet even then Friedrich does not seem to notice. He grasps the back of your neck tightly, his lips trailing down the curve of your jaw to brush the soft underside of your throat.

You whimper his name, and the sound seems to shake him from his fervor. He pulls back, his blue eyes shadowed in the flickering candlelight. You expect to find him breathless, undone, but his chest hardly rises with effort. 

“You afflict me so,” he murmurs, staring back at you. 

You’ve known Friedrich for more than half your life, every look, every gesture of his as familiar as your own, yet the expression on his face now is one you cannot place. Tentatively you touch the center of his chest and he shudders, passing a shaky hand over his mouth. He looks so pale and drained, and in that moment you feel foolish for forgetting all he’s done to return to you.

“You must be exhausted,” you say, withdrawing from him. “You should rest.”

Haltingly, as though it pains him, he nods in agreement. 

Together you help each other get ready for bed, slipping into the easy, comforting routine like no time has passed. Friedrich unlaces your corset and the feel of his cool fingers tracing the length of your spine sends a shiver through you. Once you are both undressed you slip under the covers together, and for the first time in nearly ten months, you fall into a deep, quiet slumber, wrapped in your husband’s arms. 

–

You wake in the morning to find the bed cool and empty beside you. Terror seizes your chest and for one awful moment, you fear that last night was nothing but a dream, your mind's desperate attempt to fill the unbearable emptiness inside you. You scramble from the bed, hands trembling as you search the room for any sign of him.

It’s then that you hear it, the low rumble of masculine laughter, followed by a giggle and a sharp squeal of delight from down the hall. Hastily, you slip into your morning robe, tightening it around your waist. The floor creaks beneath your feet as you make your way to your daughters’ bedroom. There, Friedrich sits on the floor, surrounded by their scattered toys, your youngest in his lap, her laughter rising and falling with each flurry of kisses he presses to her face. Your oldest clings to his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her giggles mixing with her sister’s joy.

"I fear we have woken your mother," Friedrich mock-whispers to them playfully.

"It was a pleasing way to wake," you assure him, crossing the room to open the curtains and let in the bright morning light.

"No, Mama!" your youngest cries, her shriek of alarm halting you in your tracks. She tugs at your hand with both of hers.

"You mustn't let the light in," your oldest adds, breathless with urgency.

Perplexed, you glance at Friedrich, but he simply raises his brow. Seeing the serious look in your children's eyes, you realize whatever game they’re playing must be more important to them than you’d first thought.

“Alright, alright,” you relent, allowing your daughter to pull you away from the windows and towards Friedrich. 

He’s quick to pull you down to sit in his lap. One of his hands rests on your thigh, while the other rubs soothing circles on your hip. Together, you watch your children, their sweet faces so unburden and happy as they dart from one end of the room to the other. They are breathless with energy. 

“Mama, I am hungry,” your youngest announces. 

“Must we go downstairs to eat? I want Papa to stay here with us!” your eldest whines.

"Perhaps we should take our breakfast here then," you suggest with a mischievous smile, glancing behind you at Friedrich. "They seem quite intent on their game."

“My love,” he protests. “You would have us eat on the floor, like some…bohemians?” he asks, scandalized by the very thought. 

You bite your bottom lip, struggling to hold back the smile that threatens to break through. For a man so concerned with propriety and restraint, your husband showed remarkably little of either when it came to his desire for you. It’s almost amusing that breakfast in your rooms seems to be where he draws the line.

"Oh yes, please, Papa, can we?" your daughters beg, their eyes wide with excitement.

Friedrich looks between you and the children before letting out a short, incredulous laugh. "We are civilized people, not some…wandering artists!”

“It is just for today,” you promise him, hoping to sway him with the softness of your voice.

The tension in his face eases and before he speaks you know you’ve won. With a resigned sigh he says, “You know I cannot deny you anything.”

The children cheer, moving to arrange cushions and blankets around them, boundless in their joy. The rest of the day is spent lounging in their rooms and enjoying the assortment of food brought by the servants. You feel a deep sense of contentment and safety, your head resting on Friedrich’s shoulder as you watch your daughters spring across the room, performing a dizzying, convoluted play just for the two of you.

When dusk settles you withdraw from him reluctantly, all too aware the real world awaits you. 

“We should prepare for dinner,” you say. “My parents will arrive soon.”

“I sent word to them this morning to cancel.” He glances at you before returning his attention back to your children.

You look up at him, surprised. “I know you are…unhappy with my father,” you begin, but he cuts you off with a sharp look.

“That is a matter I will address with him myself,” he says, the abrupt shift in his tone making it clear the discussion is closed. When you draw away from him, surprised, his features soften into something more familiar and kind. He squeezes your waist reassuringly. “For now,” he continues, “I simply want to spend time with my wife and children, without distraction. They can come in a week's time. Perhaps two.”

"Of course," you agree, your heart lifting. 

You want nothing more than to hide away with your family, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Friedrich sighs, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb before urging you to share a sweet, lingering kiss with him.

–

The weeks that follow are some of the happiest of your life. 

Despite the very real demands of Friedrich’s work and the countless matters that require his attention to set right everything left undone during his absence, he gives you and the girls his full attention during the day. Every one of their whims is indulged with patience and tenderness. He is rarely far from you, his presence a steady comfort, except in the evenings when he retreats to his office to bury himself in his work. It feels like the best kind of dream, one you never want to wake from.

Yet, as the days pass, you can’t help but notice how your time apart has changed him. Most of them are small, almost unnoticeable oddities that you assume must be from all he’s endured to return to you. But then there are the other changes, the ones that loom larger and give you pause. The servants whisper about them in hushed tones, their concern barely concealed. Your parents notice it too when they come for dinner, nearly two weeks after their original visit was postponed. Their eyes linger on Friedrich, an unspoken disquiet in their gaze that they don’t quite manage to hide.

“It is rather...dim in here,” your mother remarks politely, her gaze shifting past you to the drawn curtains of the dining room. 

The heavy fabrics keep out the last remnants of daylight and candlelight illuminates the room, casting shadows on the walls. The servants keep them burning constantly, there’s no other choice with the sun so often shut out at your husband’s request.

"The sunlight hurts my eyes," Friedrich replies as he pushes a fork idly around his plate, the food barely touched. 

You glance at your father, whose attention is fixed on your husband, a quiet scrutiny in his gaze.

“He spent so long below deck in the ship's hold," you explain. “The doctors said it would take time to adjust.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” your mother says, though there’s something in the way she says it that suggests she’s not quite as convinced. “And the children do not mind?”

Friedrich tenses, the hand resting on the table curling into a fist. You’re quick to cover it with your own. He exhales, the tension leaving his body in a slow release. Beneath your touch, his fist gradually unfurls, and he turns his hand palm up, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“No,” you tell your mother. 

Truthfully you had worried how the children would react to the near-perpetual dimness at first, but they seemed to adjust to it with surprising ease. Now, the shadowed corners of your home no longer faze them though you make a special effort to take them outside, letting them soak up the sunlight.

“That is good,” your mother replies earnestly before falling silent.

You’re thankful for your daughters, whose sweet voices fill the silence with excited chatter. It should be comforting to speak with your mother and children, but you’re all too aware of the quiet tension between your husband and father. Neither man seems at ease. In the past, your father and Friedrich were always polite to each other — respectful, but never truly friendly.

It’s almost a relief when the meal finally comes to an end and the servants begin clearing the dishes. You don’t comment on how little Friedrich has eaten. Each time you’ve brought it up in the past, he’s dismissed your concerns with a firm response that leaves no room for further discussion.

As you begin gathering the children and preparing them for bed, Friedrich invites your father to join him for a nightcap and a smoke in his office. You exchange a quick look with your mother, her concern clearly reflected in your own.

“We will not be long,” Friedrich promises, bringing your knuckles to his cool lips. “Go, take your mother.”

Getting the children settled turns out to be more difficult than you anticipate, and you find yourself half distracted through most of it, your mind lingering on what might be happening downstairs.  By the time you finally make your way back to the foyer, Friedrich’s office door is still firmly shut. You pause, straining to hear any sounds coming from inside, but all you’re met with is silence.

Your mother shifts beside you, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before clearing her throat.

“How are things since Friedrich’s return?” she inquires. “He seems…much changed.”

The question catches you off guard and for a moment, you're silent. You sense the weight behind her words, the quiet invitation to reveal your own fears, and you hesitate — afraid your worries will spill over into something you’re not ready to share. She already seems heavy with concern, and the last thing you want is to add to that.

"He is still our Friedrich," you reply. "He is merely adjusting after his illness.”

“Of course,” she concedes. She steps closer, her hands covering yours as her worried gaze meets your. “And how are you, my darling girl?”

"I am so happy he returned to us," you tell her with an honest smile. "I was lost without him...so scared, so alone. His absence —" You falter, the grief you thought had faded surging up again. Tears prick your eyes at the thought and you touch your chest, as if to stem the tide of emotions. "I-I could not survive losing him again.”

“You will not,” your mother assures you quickly. She squeezes your hands with a strength that grounds you. You nod, the truth of her words sinking in — Friedrich is here, and he will not leave you again.

She opens her mouth to say more, but the sound of a door creaking open has you both turning. Friedrich emerges first, a cigarette dangling loosely between the fingers that holds a glass of brandy. Smoke curls around him as he steps into the dim hallway, his expression unreadable in the low light. Your father slips past, giving him a wide berth. There’s something deeply off about his demeanor and you can see it in his eyes, a flicker of something uneasy, something wrong that he’s trying to hide.

“I believe we understand one another now,” Friedrich remarks.

“Yes,” your father says, his voice clipped and curt. He doesn't even look at you, his focus firmly on the door as he urges your mother to follow him. “We will bid you both a good night now.”

You take a step forward, but hesitate, confused by the abruptness of their departure. You turn to Friedrich and ask, "Did something happen?"

"It is nothing for you to worry over," he assures you, drawing you into his side. When his lips find yours the kiss is deeper than usual, the bitter edge of the smoke mixing with the warmth of the liquor. 

“Are the children asleep?” he asks once you part.

“Yes.”

“That is good,” he replies, brushing his knuckle over your cheek. His thumb lingers, stroking your skin as he watches you. You stare back at him in return, sensing a subtle shift in his mood. His gaze moves behind you, toward the door.

“Shall I fetch your coat?” you ask, wondering if he needs to take one of his solitary walks.

“You know me so well, my love,” he praises, his expression filled with affection as you gather his coat for him. 

You’ve grown accustomed to these late-night walks, the way he slips out after dusk when the pale glow of the gas lamps casts long shadows on the street. He’s never gone long, and when he comes back to you, he seems more settled. The color and life return to his face, though it fades again almost as quickly as it came. You wonder if it’s the quiet of the night that soothes him, that elusive solitude that's absent with the presence of you and the children. After so long spent in the depths of that ship, returning to a life so full of people and sound must be a struggle.

You’re not sure how long you stand in the foyer after he departs, lost in thought, the steady ticking of the grandfather clock the only sound breaking the silence. Eventually Kerstin appears. She pulls you back to reality with a tentative hand on your shoulder.

“Do you wish to retire for the evening?” she asks. 

“Yes. I suppose I should go,” you remark. 

Kerstin helps you undress in Friedrich’s absence, her quiet presence a small comfort as she tends to the fire in the hearth, stoking it until the flames crackle and cast a soft, yellow glow across the room. While she works your mind drifts to the unsettling events of dinner and your father’s odd behavior. It’s hard to feel settled without Friedrich beside you so you wait, lost in the silence of the room, for his return.  

The floor creaks outside the door and you turn instinctively. Friedrich enters, offering you a brief, fleeting smile. The tension in your chest abates, comforted by his presence. He sheds his clothes, layer by layer, until only his pants and a white shirt remain before climbing into bed beside you.

“Good night, my love,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

Disappointment settles like a stone in your heart when he turns on his side, curling his body protectively around yours and falls still. It has been the same every night since his return. A kiss and nothing more. Even on the evenings that turn passionate, he stops before his touch can dip into what you truly desire. You find yourself wondering what it is you've done wrong, what has changed. During the day, he seems happy, content even, and yet there’s a quiet weight that steals the joy you should feel. Friedrich has returned to you, and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? 

You try to remind yourself of that each time the insecurity surfaces. Tonight it’s harder to remember that, especially when your thoughts return to one of the last conversations you had with Friedrich before he left. You were lying in this very bed, your bodies intertwined, sweat cooling on your skin as you traded lazy kisses. Even now you can recall the warmth of his hands on your skin, the way your bodies had fit together so perfectly. 

“Perhaps when I return, you will be with child,” he had murmured softly against your lips.

The thought made your heart swell in your chest. “A son,” you had breathed, watching as the thought spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with something deeper than desire.

But that dream slipped away before you even knew you lost him. 

You let loose a pained sigh, your hand falling to your stomach to brush the soft fabric of your nightgown. Behind you the bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s hand on your shoulder, firm but gentle, guiding you onto your back as he stares down at you.

“What ails you?” He questions, his face filled with concern.

“It is nothing,” you assure him, watching his expressive brows draw together and then smooth. 

“I—” you begin, faltering before forcing yourself to continue. “You have been so different lately. You do not touch me as you used to and I thought, perhaps, after you returned that you would want to try again for a child. A son.” 

Friedrich pulls back as if you’ve struck him, his lips parting in a sharp, quiet breath. The look of raw pain that crosses his face has you reaching for him, confused and alarmed, but he’s already on his feet, moving away from you with a speed that shocks you. He claws at the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric between bone white fingers.  

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head, as though your words have wounded him somehow, piercing something fragile within him.

“My love, please. What is it?” you ask, reaching for him again. 

He opens his mouth as though to speak, but the words seem to catch in his throat. Without another sound, he turns sharply, his movements jerky as he crosses the room. 

Your voice is a broken plea as you call his name, but he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t acknowledge you. His posture is rigid, his back tense, but there's a tremor in the hand that settles on the door. For a brief moment you think he might return to you until he steps through the door, closing it behind him. You remain frozen, your mind reeling in confusion at the fast turn of events. 

The urge to follow him is so strong that you nearly rise from the bed, your body already halfway to the floor before you force yourself to stay. Fights were a rare occurrence in your marriage but if you’ve upset Friedrich it would be wise to give him space. So you stay, lost in your thoughts until your eyelids grow heavy and the constant buzzing of your mind slows to a dull hum. The night slips away unnoticed, the world around you fading as you drift into a fitful slumber.

When you wake again, anxious and adrift, you find Friedrich has returned. You almost don’t see him at first. His figure is barely visible, sitting in the shadowed chair before the fireplace where only embers remain, their warmth lost long ago. 

"I shall never have a son," he says hoarsely, a quiet, unsettling stillness about him. “Nor a daughter."

Your legs slip from the bed, your bare feet barely touching the cold floor when he speaks again. 

“Come no closer,” he growls. The strength behind his words rattles your chest, echoing in your mind, pinning you in place.

“You are frightening me, Friedrich,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have not even begun to frighten you, my love," he says softly, the sorrow in his tone settling like a shadow over you. “I thought if I kept pretending,” he begins as if speaking to himself, “things could be like they were before. That you could have me back as I was.”

Even though you don’t understand his words, they stir a quiet unease in you. You want to reach out to him, but the way he holds himself keeps you still.

“But you’re here now. With us,” you remind him softly. “Just as it should be.”

Friedrich doesn't respond, and the silence stretches out, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wait, watching him, wondering if he’s even heard you. 

Then, finally, he speaks. 

"I died. Though not in the way you imagined,” he begins, his words low and strained. “When Ellen and I found Thomas...it was too late. For all of us.” His eyes flutter, and for the first time since he began speaking, he looks away from you. “When I woke, I was not the same.”

You wait for him to continue, to explain but he only stares at the floor with an empty expression. “You are still my Friedrich,” you assure him, taking a tentative step forward.

His eyes snap back to you, dark and unblinking and you see a rawness to him, a hunger in his gaze, as if something inside him is clawing to get free. Something that would consume him if he let it. He rises from the chair and the shadows cast by the faint light remaining in the room stretch behind him, making him seem almost monstrous. Slowly, hypnotically, he moves towards the bed, his steps soundless. 

“Ellen was not mad. What haunted her was real,” he says. “And now, he has made me like him.”

The memory of Ellen’s terror surges to the forefront of your mind. Her frantic muttering, the words tumbling out in a panic about the demon that pursued her. You think of Professor von Franz’s wild claims she was haunted by a vampyre. Those ridiculous accusations had been the catalyst that finally pushed Friedrich to agree to what Ellen had desperately begged him to do — return her to Thomas.

You shake your head to deny the absurdity of your husband’s confession. But deep down, a part of you already knows the truth. It’s been there all along, quietly accumulating like a slow, inevitable tide with each subtle shift and unspoken change you noticed and ignored since his return. There is a fundamental, irrevocable rupture in the essence of your husband, a hunger that has transformed him into something unrecognizable. 

A vampyre. 

The word lingers in your mind, its weight sinking deeper with each passing moment. You think of your children, your eyes instinctively drifting to the wall that separates your room from theirs, a barrier that suddenly feels so thin and fragile. Your pulse quickens, and the air grows heavier.

Friedrich seems to sense your thoughts before you can voice them.

"I could never harm them," he says so steadily and sincerely that it leaves no room for doubt.  

You stiffen when his fingertips brush over your jaw, the coldness so stark that you don’t understand how you never noticed it before. You want to retreat from his touch but you feel rooted to the floor, some force beyond your control anchoring you in place.

"It was always you I could not resist," he admits, his words thick with desire.

As his fingers trail down the side of your neck, the sensation sharpens a memory deep within you. Fragments of your dreams begin to slip into focus, flooding back with startling clarity, almost overwhelming in their intensity. The flash of sharp teeth beneath his mustache, the scent of blood in the air. The mix of pain and pleasure. 

"They were not dreams," you whisper.

“No,” he replies, his hand resting against the side of your throat, seeking out the ache that has never quite faded. 

His confession frightens you, your mind struggling to reconcile the man you love with the creature standing before you. Yet even as you turn from him, overwhelmed with terror, there’s another part of you — one that loves him so completely, so unconditionally — that pulls you back toward him. The longer his fingers linger at your throat, the harder it becomes to tell where love ends and fear begins.

"You must know, I never intended to remain," he admits. "I only wanted to see you...and the children, just once more. To smell their hair and kiss their sweet faces." His gaze falters, a deep sorrow flickering in the depths of his eyes. "They looked so innocent, so pure...but I knew they would be well. They had you."

He moves closer, his chest hovering just inches from yours, a space that would have been filled with breath if he were still capable of it. But instead, he remains unnervingly still.

"Then I found you here," he continues, his words soft and haunting, "in this bed, so lost in grief. You were dreaming, and you whispered my name. You called for me, and in that moment...I could not leave you. I could not bring myself to walk away." 

Tears shimmer in his eyes, his emotions raw and vulnerable. You never expected to see your own grief mirrored in his face. The sight twists like a knife through your chest, an unbearable ache.

“That is my greatest sin, my love,” he whispers, his voice breaking with the weight of his confession. "That I could not let you go.”

The desire to comfort him and ease his grief compels you to act, but you find yourself frozen — locked inside your body, unable to move, to speak, to do anything more than listen as he continues. 

“I thought I would be content to simply watch, but then your father…” His words twist, and that monstrous intent you had glimpsed before surges between you, fierce and ravenous, filling the space between you. “He intended to barter you off to those vile men. I could not — would not — let that happen.”

Your stomach heaves at the implications of his words. You want him to stop speaking, to unburden you of this awful knowledge but he presses forward, relentlessly even as the first of your tears begin to fall. 

“Do not weep for those loathsome creatures, my love,” he says, his gaze hardening. “They would have hurt you. Hurt our children.”

You shake your head as if that very motion might change the truth of his words. “You killed them,” you whisper, horrified. 

“Yes.” 

There is no shame in his voice, no regret in the familiar blue eyes that meet yours — only the overwhelming weight of his devotion, so thick it feels like it could crush you. You take a half step back, the solid wood of the bedpost halting your retreat. Friedrich moves forward, closing the distance between you with unsettling ease, trapping you with his body. Fear tightens in your stomach, squeezing the breath from your lungs. 

“It was but a simple thing to take their lives,” he whispers, his hands framing your hips. 

A shiver runs through him as he presses his cheek to yours. His touch is so familiar that your body reacts before your mind, instinctively leaning into him even as fear urges you to pull away. His lips trail from your cheek to somewhere lower and you flinch, gasping in short, panicked breaths. You can feel the wild flutter of your pulse that he seeks out. 

“Will you take my life too?” The question escapes before you can stop it, fear clinging to every syllable.

Friedrich recoils from you, the weight of his presence receding, and you inhale shakily, as if the space between you can finally fill with air again. His posture shifts, and the sharpness in his expression softens. You stare at him, and for a fleeting moment, he feels familiar again — your Friedrich once more. 

“No,” he replies anguished, the mere idea of what you’ve asked unfathomable to him. “You are my wife,” he says, as if that alone is all the answer you need.  

In the silence that follows he studies your face, searching for something — some sign that you know not how to give him. 

"I never meant for it to be like this,” he whispers. He takes a small step back, his gaze lowering, filled with a deep, agonizing regret. "I should have let you go.” His hands clench and unclench at his sides, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hesitates, and then, almost too quietly, as if the admission is one he can hardly bear, he murmurs, “I must leave.”  

When he looks up again his expression is devoid of any emotion. “I shall ensure your well-being, and see to it the children are provided for.” He speaks as though he is very far away, his tone is calm, distant. “You will not need to remarry for the sake of security."

The thought of losing him again wrenches something from deep inside you. For all the darkness in him, for the monstrous thing that lives beneath his skin, you realize that the idea of life without him is a void you could not survive again. You can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the sudden, crushing terror. 

“No,” you sob, the mix of fear, desire, and love so tightly wound together that you can no longer distinguish one from the other. You move towards him, your steps unsteady, as though the very ground beneath you is crumbling. “You cannot leave me. Not again.”

“Do not," he pleads, stepping back just out of reach, his voice thick with desperation. "I have not the resolve to deny you."

"You are my husband," you remind him, tearfully. "You made a vow to me."

"Till death," he answers, his grip tightening around your hands, halting your frantic reach for him. "But I no longer live."

“I care not,” you tell him, the weight of your love for him, your need to have him here with you the only thing that matters. The thought of losing him again is unbearable. It twists you with desperation, a wild, consuming need, and in this moment of painful clarity, you finally understand why he stayed, why he endured the torment of his own nature – all for you and your daughters. 

“We can make a new vow,” you urge desperately, pushing aside the turmoil within. You should be repulsed by what he's become. But something deeper pulls at you, a love so fierce and unyielding it overrides every ounce of logic. You love him too much to let go.

Friedrich watches you then, his gaze full of hunger and pain, and you know that he’s fighting himself, fighting his love for you. The very same battle raging within you.

“You do not know me any longer,” he replies. "I know you,” you insist. “You are the man who has tended to our daughters with such devotion since his return. His love for them is as steadfast as the love he bears for me. A man who has always upheld his marriage vow, to protect and cherish me.”

He shakes his head but it is a halfhearted denial. 

“I love you, Friedrich,” you whisper. “Please.”

The words have hardly left you when his lips are on yours, his hands grasping desperately for you. He pushes you towards the bed, his body enveloping yours when he presses you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. The relief you feel is a heavy, wondrous thing and you part your lips, allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. 

A whimper slips from you when he pulls away, but he’s quick to quiet you. He grips your nightgown with both hands and wrenches it apart to bare your body to his heated gaze. He kisses each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling it until it grows hard and achy before paying the same attention to the other. 

His mouth trails lower, down your soft stomach, tenderly kissing each line and mark left from carrying his children. When he reaches the soft tufts of hair that hide one of his favorite parts of you he inhales deeply. He uses two fingers to spread you open, his tongue seeking out the delicate bundle of nerves. Your eyes close and you clutch a fistful of his curly hair, pulling it urgently, needing him even closer.

Friedrich knows your body intimately and as he worships between your thighs your voice grows louder, a hunger stirring low in your belly. Your hips rise and fall, meeting his mouth, crying in delight when he gently works a finger inside. 

“I shall never grow tired of the taste of you…your warmth,” he praises, slipping a second finger beside the first. 

He curls them, moving like a relentless wave upon the shore, steady and rhythmic. When his thumb circles your bud with tender attention you grasp the bedsheets and groan. You feel so close, every muscle in your body pulled tight in anticipation of release. The bed shifts and you feel Friedrich’s lips brush down your inner thigh as his fingers continue their steady work. 

“Come for me,” he commands, an unsettling current under his words that your body can’t help but obey. 

You peak with his name on your lips, louder and more wanton than you’ve ever been. As your orgasm washes through you, a faint pulse of pain threads beneath the euphoria, blending with the sensation in a tangled, confusing mix. You realize then Friedrich’s feeding from you, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of your inner thigh to draw more than pleasure from you. His fingers still work within you and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he drinks until your vision grows hazy and unfocused.

When you open your eyes again he’s shed his clothes, the coolness of his naked flesh sending a shiver through you. The two of you share a sweet, lingering kiss and he pulls back, staring down at you. Your eyes are drawn to the wound on his chest, a jagged mark left by the creature. Tentatively, you raise your hand, watching his face as you reach for it. He doesn’t stop you, but his chest rises and falls sharply, a long-forgotten reflex in anticipation of your touch. 

You brush your fingers over his torn skin and he shudders when your lips follow, offering him acceptance and benediction the only way you know how. He whispers your name and your thighs part in welcome. There’s no pain as he slips inside, just that familiar ache you’ve been craving. You gaze up at him in the dim light, watching his blue eyes shimmer with a flash of silver that fades and returns with each roll of his hips. 

His eyes close when you wrap a leg around his hip, urging him to reach deeper inside you. After all this time, you need more from him, all the passion and desire he’s trembling with the effort to hold back. Your heart has made its choice, binding itself to him in a way that transcends fear, desire, and everything else and you want him to know that.  

“It is okay, my love,” you urge, baring your throat to him. 

Your words cause his pace to falter and he stares at you with a deep crease in his brow. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. 

“I want you. All of you,” you assure him. 

Friedrich’s lips part, curling up to reveal teeth sharper than you remember. In a blink he lunges forward, his chest pressing into yours as his mouth seals over the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. Your skin gives way under his teeth, and a deep growl resonates in his throat. His hips drive into you hard enough for the bed to creak dangerously and you wrap your arms around him, holding on until your limbs become too heavy.

There’s no fear in this moment, only immense, indescribable pleasure. You smile at him as he pulls away, the coolness of his breath still lingering on your skin. His tongue flicks over a stray drop of your blood at the corner of his mouth, the motion slow and deliberate, almost reverent, as though savoring every bit of you. The sight sends an unexpected jolt of desire through you, as intoxicating as it is unsettling.

You moan beneath him, digging your nails into his biceps when he pulls your knees to your chest. It hurts in the best way possible and you share a messy, coppery kiss as he groans into your mouth, the sounds of his desperate desire enough to herald your own end. Every part of your body hums with pleasure, except for the sharp sting in your neck. 

You touch the torn skin gingerly, the sluggish flow of your blood surely staining the sheets beneath you. Friedrich brings your fingers to his lips, cleaning them with his tongue. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth, puncturing the skin. Dark red blood wells up from the wound, and you watch breathlessly as he traces the bite mark on your throat. Your skin tingles and you look questioningly at him.

“There will be no mark,” he assures you.

Cautiously you touch your throat, finding only smooth, unblemished skin. You look up at him in amazement.

“I do not deserve such a look,” he says. “I am a monster.”

“You are my Friedrich,” you reply, echoing the words you spoke earlier, your hands gently cradling his face.

Your thumbs stroke his skin, taking in the familiar way his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, his gaze filled with adoration. He rests his forehead against yours, and you smile wider than before, the joy you feel almost too much to bear.

Even now, with everything that has come to light, your love for him remains unshaken. He is woven into the very fabric of your soul, as much a part of you as the blood that courses through your veins. No matter what comes next, your love for Friedrich will endure. The bond between you is eternal, transcending time and even the boundaries of life itself. 

♡

Thank you all so much for reading this series! I had a bit of a tough time with the ending, so I really hope you enjoyed it. Your thoughts and feedback mean everything to me, so feel free to leave a comment, reblog, or send an ask if you’d like!

[fortunekookie07]

Dance with Me - Caleb

Finally the day had arrived. You walked to the den and found Caleb sitting at the table working quietly. His back is bent over his current project. You never really understood his fascination with putting together these models when he flew the real thing. But it made him happy to assemble the tiny versions.

Sometimes, you loved to sit and watch him work. The concentrated look on his face was so cute. His eyes would be narrowed, and his brow would be furrowed as he carefully put the small pieces together.

You call his name softly and wait until he turns around before presenting him with the box you were holding.

Placing the small box in Caleb's hand with a grin, you sit next to him. "Didn't we agree, no gifts this year?" He asks, setting down the wrench. The pieces of his model are scattered across the table.

You kiss his cheek. "This is one gift you don't want to miss." He eyes you and then the box before grasping the ribbon and tugging. The simple bow knot comes undone. Pulling the lid up, he stares down at a black and white picture.

Confusion furrows his brows as he picks it up and stares at the image. Slowly, a smile stretches across his face. "You mean?" He asks, looking at you with pure joy. "Mhh hmmm." You nod vigorously.

He pulls you up with him and starts dancing around the kitchen and into the living room. You laugh as he spins you around in a crazy rhythm.

"Caleb, what are you doing?" He brings you in close, and you can hear the thumping of his heart. "Dance with me!" He can't contain his enthusiasm. Finally, you collapse on the couch, but it seems he still has energy to spend.

"I'm going to be a farher!" He shouts and then runs to the door and throws it open before shouting the same sentence from the open door.

You shake your head at your childish husband. Eventually, he comes back to where you're seated and sits down before laying his head in your lap. Turning to face your still flat stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist. "How far along are you?" He mumbles into your stomach. Whether he is asking you or the growing baby, you're not sure.

"Almost ten weeks." You brush your fingers through his hair. You can feel his smile against your stomach. Is this why you've been weird with food lately." You know it's a rhetorical question.

Having grown up together your whole life, Caleb is more than familiar with your eating habits. "Yeah, Tara went with me to the doctor for a checkup last week. She was almost as excited as you were. Don't worry, you are the first to find out."

Caleb gets up and then pulls you up and into his arms. "Ca-Caleb! Where are we going!" You laugh as he waltzes over to the bedroom and throws the door open with his evol.

"There's still time! We might be able to make them twins!" You laugh at this man, with his vast understanding of sciences, saying something so absurd. But he won't hear of it and so you end up spending the rest of the day in your bedroom. He hardly let you up to eat or use the bathroom.

You stroke his bare back, listening to him snore softly as you lay tucked into his arms.

The path to your current relationship had been incredibly difficult. With all the secrets he'd tried to keep from you on his desperate and somewhat deranged path to keeping you safe. Then there was the aftermath when those secrets had come to life.

His mental health had hit an all-time low, and he'd come close to calling these life quits. It was honestly a miracle that you'd made it to today.

"This life isn't easy, but I hope you'll help me take care of your daddy." You say softly stroking your stomach.

Being with Caleb wasn't easy. Despite having known him your whole life, he felt like a stranger when he came back. A strange pretending to be the protector you'd always known.

When everything came to light and all his secrets, pain, and suffering were laid bare, it had been brutal.

Caleb was willing to end it all. If he couldn't have you, he didn't want anything anymore.

You still remembered the desperate look on his face that day. The raw fear in his eyes as he thought you were going to walk away from him. You hadn't been sure of what you wanted until that point.

But when you sank to your knees in front of him and hugged him, all had seemed right, like you just knew it was all going to be ok. You knew you didn't want to lose your best friend, and you found the strength and courage in your heart to save him.

Caleb had stood trial, and people were ready to throw the book at him. It was only when evidence came to light that he hadn't been acting of his own free will that changed everything.

He'd gone from the monster seeking to destroy the city to a victim. Forced to act against his will and better nature. The looks of pity they gave him had been almost as bad as their anger.

He still suffered from that time. His nightmares were terrible. Sometimes, he would cry in his sleep. Only holding onto him and assuring him he was not alone helped.

So, to say it had been a difficult year was an understatement. It has taken months to get Caleb reinstated in the DAA. His friends and fellow pilots had welcomed him back with open arms. Ready to have him at their side once more. Some friends really would stand with you through hell and high water.

Picking up pieces of a broken life was worth it in the end. When you got the news, the first person you wanted to tell was Caleb. You'd even sworn Tara to secrecy until you could break the news

Unconsciously, Caleb holds you closer, and you drift off to sleep.

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

Here we go with story 2!

Caleb was difficult for me to write, in that I struggle with adding depth to this story for him. I knew I wanted to have a theme for all five guys and I started with a thought, making very sure no story is the same and I believe I have succeeded, a you'll find out in thevdays to come.

I know Caleb was introduced near the beginning of MCs story, but his character is still very unknown to me. Hence my great struggle with keeping to what I do know.

So please don't come for me! I did put my best effort into this.

[wandaslullaby]

Power Run || Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: the turn of events ignites something inside you.

part 2 of test track

warnings: lactation kink

------------

There was no doubt that you were a vivid dreamer but, the events that happened last night surely wasn't real. It couldn't be, there was no way you would infantilize yourself for Wanda. You weren't exactly attracted to women, but something came undone when Wanda outed you for essentially being a creep. It wasn't intentional, you were a sucker for tits and prying on Wanda isn't something that's illegal, it just felt like the universe wanted you there to see them.

For a long time you weren't a heavy sleep but how fortunate is it that after Wanda used her nurturing skills, something you always wanted from your own mother, you were breathing heavily and woke up freely without no disturbances.

"Y/N? You still asleep?" Tommy crept in, cup of hot chocolate with fresh cream and marshmallows in his hands.

You turned towards the voice, shaking your head as you watched Tommy come towards you. "Hot coco? I haven't had this since I was a kid."

Tommy frowned, he knew about your shitty homelife but never wanted to bring it up without you talking about it first.

"Mum usually makes this for us when we finally understand what we did was wrong. Bit strange since you haven't done anything." Tommy took a breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, right Y/N?"

The instant regret found you. You quickly shaked your head, taking the hot chocolate from him. "I haven't, has Wanda said anything?"

"Nope. She's been extra weird today though. Something must of lifted her spirts because before you came over, she was ranting to her best friend, Agatha about my dad."

You took a sip, moaning at the taste of the drink. "This is so good, how have I never had one?"

"Like I said, it only comes when you learn a lesson."

You stayed silent, taking small sips as Tommy started to tell you all the details of the party. As Tommy kept going on about Flash and how they made out in the garden, you couldn't stop thinking about last night. It felt like every time you fidgeted, you felt your panties getting wetter at the sight of how Wanda was with you. You weren't quite sure why you kept replaying the moments when you knew that it wasn't right.

"So now, I'm getting ready for a date with Flash. He is going to pick me up soon and going to head to the arcade."

"Is this my queue to leave then?"

"Definitely not." Tommy said. "Actually, I was thinking if you could help my mum out today? She really needs some help with house stuff and I kinda told her that you were good at that stuff..."

You signed, "I have to get back home, Tommo. Mum's probably going to go ma-"

"I just got off the phone with her, sweets. She is more than happy for you to be here helping a fellow neighbour out. Apparently, I've heard that you haven't done any chores for your neighbours in a while which is very disappointing." Wanda said, walking into the spare bedroom.

Tommy looked over at you, "Maybe that's why you got hot chocolate today?"

Wanda gazed at you, grinning at the sight of how dumbfounded you became. "I think Y/N knows exactly what she has done, baby. Isn't that right?"

You coughed, nodding trying to not look at Tommy's confused face. "I would be happy to help you. May i have a shower first?"

And that was Tommy queue to get ready. You both watched Tommy walk away, vanishing into the hallway. Now it was just you and Wanda, and for some reason you weren't exactly sure how to behave around her.

"I think you ought to have a bath, baby. We don't want to have another sticky situation, do we?"

"No, we don't" You breathed, and watched as Wanda held her hand out for you to hold.

"Hold my hand tight. Those little bambi legs can go so far." Wanda giggled, as you obediently held her hand and followed her. You thought Wanda would leave you for some peace but here she was, lifting you up to sit on the sink as she started to peel your clothes off.

Something about this felt invasive, but somehow you felt your head slump into her chest. Wanda didn't even bat an eyelid and carefully aided you until you were naked. She slowly unzips her t-shirt, something that nursing mother's would wear and pushed it to the side. "How rude of me, you haven't had any breakfast have you? You were waiting for Mommy weren't you?"

You didn't even respond and didn't fight when Wanda slowly lifted your head towards the direction of her tit. Wanda was about to explain her action but she hissed as you latched tightly onto her nipple, sucking aggressively. She tried to get you off but you only whined and carried on sucking.

"Slowly, baby. You are going to get a tummy ache." Wanda cooed as she watched from the mirror how well you were arched. She knew that you weren't stopping anytime soon, so she carefully took her phone out, and started to record you. The soft moans and whimpers coming from you was a sign that you were almost finished. She stopped the recording, placing her phone back into her pocket and stroked your crimson cheeks.

"You are going to drink me dry, baby." Wanda whispered into your ear but you didn't care, you were so drunk on her milk that you didn't want to stop. Wanda laughed not expecting you to be so open to this but as much as she wanted to watch the sight of you latching onto her tits, you needed a bath.

Your movements came to an end and Wanda slowly lifted your head, admiring the drunken state of you. She grinned, wiping the excess of her milk with her finger before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you like that?" Wanda whispered, stroking your hair.

"Mhm" you responded and detached yourself from her. Wanda waited until you were ready to get into the bath for the confusing to enter.

"W-What just happened?" You said, "Why does my tummy hurt and feel so full?"

Wanda breathed, she was totally excepting you to lash out. "You had too much milk, baby. You almost drank me dry."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Drank you? How could I-" That's when you realised what you had done. You were levelled to her tits, looking directly at the swollen nipple on her right tit. Tears swam in your eyes as you huddled yourself, "I did that? I'm so sorry Wanda, I don't know why I did that?" You cried, "What's happening to me?"

Wanda heart sank, she knew that you were troubled but watching you fuss burned something inside her. "Nothing is happening to you, sweetheart, you just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? I sucked your tit, Wanda. That's what babies do!" You said, "I don't know why I'm turning into a needy little girl. I've always been independent and now i feel like I need your touch, 24/7."

Wanda wrapped you into her frame, gently calming you down. "It's okay to have these feelings, sweetie. I think you just feel a little neglected from home and watching how i take care of my boys, i can't imagine how jealous you would be."

"They don't behave like that, like me. I've never seen them be nurturing towards you. Why am I?"

"You're a girl. A sweet, naivee and stupid girl that just needed some female attention." Wanda laughed, almost turning it around to make you feel more embarrassed than you were.

You signed, not really understanding. "It won't happen again, I promise."

Wanda only agreed, but she knew that her remedies were taking effect quicker than she excepted. She knew once she poured a special something in your hot chocolate that something inside you that you tried to hide would come to the surface, and now that it has, Wanda needed a chat with Agatha, the town's secret witch.

[blorbologist]

i read your tags! also same wrt vaxleth just being given their happy ending; it's not just that vm had nothing to do with it and it was all bh, it's that bh didn't even do it on purpose and it was essentially just a side effect of their actions

Hi anon - exactly!!! I can't get into much rambling atm, but it's so frustrating that the beautiful ending of C1 was undone as a freebie. And potentially even *more* than undone, if Vax is still an immortal Celestial.

(I'm sure Vax would love outliving his sister when he offered his life and service to save her in the first place. But hey never-ending romance am I right???)

It would be one thing if VM decided to weigh in more heavily on what happened with the gods, if say Pike had to consider inflicting this on Sarenrae (and to a lesser extent Vex and Scanlan on Pelor and Ioun, but hey they're just chosen hm?) to get Vax back. The closest we get to sacrifice was Vex dying, but a) ... I'm sorry but she’s died a Lot and she still came back anyways with no long-term repercussions b) that was to get Vax un-orbed, not completely get him 'back.'

VM were at best mildly inconvenienced (nothing was permanently lost or changed that they chose), got to have a nice victorious evening, then Vax was tossed back like a bonus prize regardless of his feelings on the matter. It feels like an afterthought, an excuse - oh while we're at it lets 'fix' what was a beautiful ending, because apparently it wasn't all that beautiful to us.

I could have been sold on this being a bittersweet thing - on Vax having changed, on Keyleth having changed, their respective responsibilities burdening them, to the point this is difficult for both of them. But the fact it's framed as them pretty much... a neat bow to wrap things up? It's not earned - by VM, by Keyleth, and it makes Vax and his entire character, his entire sacrifice, feel like a trophy. You handled 30 years without your boyfriend, congratulations! Here's a cookie.

Idk. To anyone stinging about this finale - or those just mildly bothered but they can't put their finger on why - I'd encourage you to rewatch something you know has a satisfying happy ending. See it done right.

I'd ramble about how Fullmetal Alchemist (manga and Brotherhood) is another example (like Dungeon Meshi) of a happy 'resurrection' done right (except it's shorter term, bar Al' body coming back which was a long-term goal - and it's focused on the platonic bond like the Touden siblings, though there is a romantic bond present and involved) - but my arm really fucking hurts so despite my ire I'll shut up.

No, wait: I'll end on part of Ed' final narration:

"There’s no such thing as a painless lesson, they just don't exist. Sacrifices are necessary, you can’t gain anything without losing something first."

[ncity-agere]

imagine hoshi with a calm little 😭😭

Caregiver!Hoshi has so much energy and it’s hard for you to keep up sometimes. He likes to dance and play and jump and dash so much that someone could look at you two and guess that he were the age regressor instead of you.

You were always more calm than him -regressed or not. Almost always, Soonyoung was energetic and rowdy, always on 100% and always playing the role of Hoshi. And you loved Soonyoung a lot but his energy was too much sometimes.

Especially now, early in the morning.

“Good morning! It’s time for breakfast, cub!” Soonyoung beamed, hopping on your bed and squishing you, shaking you around a bit as if you hadn’t been asleep only a minute ago. “And it’s gonna be the yummiest breakfast ever!”

“But… but I sleepy, Tiger.” You murmur, fully awake now. You really should be used to his energy but you’re not, not when his default volume is hollering.

It isn’t even a matter of being sleepy, really. You were just a lot more mellow than Soonyoung was.

“On my back! Come on, we’re going on an adventure!” He crouched down, ready to give you a piggy-back ride. But when he realized you weren’t in the mood for an adventure, he sulked and stood back up. “Or… not.” He sighed, watching as you slipped out of your bed in your pajamas and slunk down the hall without him.

Soonyoung followed you to the kitchen. He dropped to the floor and forward rolled, jumping to his feet to do a flip forwards and then a cartwheel down the hallway, landing several feet from you.

“Parkour! Did you like that, cub?!” He asked, grinning from ear to ear. His hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed, but you weren’t paying him much mind at all.

“It was… nice.” You admitted, not quite paying attention to his fast-paced antics.

You followed him down the hall to the messy kitchen, sticky oatmeal on the countertops and dishes piled high, undone. You tried your hardest to ignore the looming chores, trying to stay in your small headspace.

“Not hungry.” You tried, ignoring your rumble little tummy.

Soonyoung pouted and jutted his lip out, looking at you with pathetic glassy eyes. “I made… I made oatmeal for you. Your favorite kind.” He pointed at the table where a colorful bowl with cartoon characters sat, hot, yummy oatmeal in it.

There’s a pause before you sit at the table and nod. “Okay. I try to eat.”

“You’re the best, y/n!” Soonyoung cheers a little too loudly. He brightens up, sitting in front of you and picking up his spoon. “I was thinking we could go to the park today and play tag. We could maybe call up some of your little friends and hang out with them, wouldn’t that be so super fun?” He asked, picking up a large spoonful of oatmeal.

You nodded curtly. It did sound like a lot of fun, but you just didn’t have the energy and enthusiasm that your caregiver did.

Soonyoung started to make loud plane noises, whooshing sounds as he lowered the spoon closer to your mouth. You frowned at the over-the-top actions to make you eat something as simple as oatmeal and started to protest.

But as much as you wanted to ask Soonyoung to calm down a little bit, one glance at the look on his face told you it’d be better to just suck it up and eat the oatmeal.

Not everyone would “here-comes-the-airplane” for you, you know. It’s a very, very special honor.

You sighed at the obnoxiously loud plane noises Soonyoung was making, opening your mouth to take a bite of the oatmeal on the spoon. You had to admit, it was pretty tasty. And the airplane wasn’t so bad. Still, today was gonna be one looooooong day.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

yeah the idea that Every Blind Person Ever is hidden from the eye feels... unlikely lol. like, for one thing, why would georgie and melanie not just blind all their followers by default if it was that effective a form of protection. i feel like in melanie's case it must be something more along the lines of, the eye anchors itself to its servants via the eyes, and in blinding herself she severed that connection. so someone who didn't have a connection to start with wouldn't get anything special out of it. (which implies, interestingly, that taking a servant/avatar might actually be an allowance of weakness for the fears? since if it never attached itself to her in the first place, melanie wouldn't be able to shut out the eye like that. hm.)

...that said, re: georgie being fearless, and melanie being cut off, it's also been explicitly stated that arthur is, in his own multiverse, a literal blind spot. kayne can't get a lock on him. now we still don't have any real idea why he's like that, but i feel like if we're doing translations, it wouldn't be too surprising if that transferred to be some form of protection from the eye as well. hidden from the eye not bc of the blindness in itself, but bc of whatever-it-is that lets him continue to surprise a nearly omnipotent being.

anyway re: avatars, yeah, it definitely feels weird if jon can like, somehow game the system and kill anyone he wants but he has to turn them into an active player first. that feels strange. it's possible smiting works on everyone, but, i'm also wondering if the neater way to square this is maybe that there's some kind of distinction between "subject," as defined by the eye as the counterposition to the object, and "avatar," as in the agents of the fears that existed even pre-apocalypse.

bc martin isn't fully an avatar, right? but he still has a domain. and like, uh, the admiral was also a subject, kind of, right. the admiral is definitely not an avatar the admiral is a cat. and on the flipside, daisy ended up being an avatar but didn't have a specific domain, right? so maybe "subject" is a definition based purely on whether the eye is looking at you or your victims, whereas "avatar" is a separate concept defined by your, like, proximity to one of the fears.

it would make sense in that case that avatars are subjects by default, since they are, by nature, things that inflict fear. by the same token, maybe getting smote is not a question of being undone by fear so much as it is like, a conflict or loophole in the logic of the system. you can't be both an avatar and an object. it demands complete separation from your patron, which, for an avatar, means death. a non-avatar normal person, subject or object, can't be destroyed in the same way because they're not that close to the fears to start with.

...does that make any sense? am i making sense here? i can't tell.

anyway to uh, circle back to the whole Point of this discussion lol, then yeah, it would all come down to whether john and arthur are considered avatars in this new system. or, that is, after resolving the question of 1) whether arthur is a blind spot and 2) whether that blind spot has enough range to cover the other guy in his head. assuming he's not and/or it doesn't, then... i don't think john would be an avatar? not by default, at least. bc i don't know which one he would be an avatar Of. i guess it depends on what the mechanics of their arrival in the world are, but i feel like becoming an avatar of anything would have to be an active choice. it's also possible that john is a blind spot/immune for reasons totally unrelated to arthur's, possibly having something to do with him existing in that weird man/monster quantum state. idk!

weird question, but if Jonathan Sims tried to smite Arthur Lester "ceaseless watcher turn your gaze" style, would Arthur being blind make him immune to it, and if so, would that mean John Doe would not be immune to it, being the one who can see? Could the Archivist kill John?

And even more importantly, if Jon did kill John, would Arthur immediately rage kill him right back? .......or would they become besties

because like. Last time someone killed Arthur's best friend he did proceed over the course of barely four months to reach unhinged levels of devoted codependent love that have never been seen before or since with the guy. so like

[codenamesazanka]

Shigaraki dies, and goes back in time. To the day OFA was transferred to Deku…

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

rough idea/summary [part 1.5] (takes place immediately after Part 1, after Shigaraki kills AFO. He encounters Kurogiri.

•

Shigaraki attempts to leave the lab after killing AFO. He realizes he doesn't know where the exit is - he only ever traveled here via Kurogiri or warp goop - but he knows he's underground. If he tries heading up, he'll find an exit eventually, right? And if all else fails, he'll just decay a way out. He wonders if he can recreate what he did at Jaku without augmentation - definitely on a smaller scale, and he can't differentiate what not to decay, but the crater at Deika was pretty sizable on its own—

Kurogiri appears in front of him.

Shigaraki Tomura. You just killed All For One.

Kurogiri has always been a tough opponent for him, in their spars, during the fights Shigaraki starts - just too fast with those portals. Shigaraki had gotten faster, but that was after a month training with Machia, something this body doesn't have…

But Kurogiri's not an opponent, if he ever was.

Shigaraki says, You don't seem so disturbed by it. Does that mean Sensei had a backup plan for this exact thing?

Shigaraki doesn't get an answer. He wasn't expecting one. They stare at each other for a moment, before Shigaraki lowers the rest of his guard.

Guess it's not avenging him.

Kurogiri only says, I am your protector.

To the very end.

...I've always been a shit brat to you, Shigaraki says.

Kurogiri's misty head ripples. That never had any bearing on my mission to watch over you. To make sure you grow up properly. And it seems you have. What future did you come from, Shigaraki Tomura, to have matured you like so?

'You left,' Shigaraki could say, but he doesn't know how Kurogiri would take that. An insult? Even though he lost all desire to insult Kurogiri a long time again. Or maybe Kurogiri'll understand, vague as it is. The same way Toga and Twice had teased him about this, once. The same way Kurogiri said Shigaraki had friends, waiting for him.

I was 21, Shigaraki says. It's been a while since I was who I was this morning.

Kurogiri was quiet. A death at 21 is far too young, Shigaraki Tomura.

...You say that like it's my fault. Shigaraki says. Well—maybe it was, part of it. But somehow, he got a 'continue'.

There's only two people who can command Kurogiri - AFO and Shigaraki, and AFO overrules him. Especially if there is a backup plan (of course there would be a backup plan; he really should've decayed the Doc while he was at it. If he goes back right now to do so, will the Doc still be there? Or will Shigaraki be wasting time he could be using to escape?)

Kurogiri, Shigaraki says. Until he calls you back, will you work with me?

[icedteaandoldlace]

K, so as much as the rest of season 1 and the entirety of season 2 would suck with Cisco being dead, now that this thought is in my head, I can't stop thinking about how wild that would be if they literally killed him off for just that period of time, with the intention of bringing him back via Flashpoint and keeping him on for the rest of the show, but making the audience think he was gone for good for a whole entire season. That would've been CRAZY, yo.

[moss-sauce]

life really fucking sucks right now

[raynydaystorytime]

Alternatively alternatively, the relationship is fine. It's the world that is irrevocably changed by the defeat of death... And not for the better.

the "came back wrong" trope except like... they didnt. like this mad scientists wife died, and so he studied necromancy, brought her back, and she came back and it all worked. like she came back exactly the same as she was before with literally no difference. but the scientist guy is like "oh no... what have i done.... shes Different now!!!! she came back Wrong!!!!" and shes just like. chilling. reading a book. cooking dinner. shes just so so normal but in the guys mind hes like "oh shes soooo weird" but shes just normal

[beanietopia]

choso has a porn addiction, plain and simple. every morning for him starts with the same: open up twitter, get his bottle of lotion, and scroll through his bookmarks until he can cum. he’s had girlfriends in the past, they all thought his addiction was gross. what girl would ever entertain a guy that jerked off to random girls getting creampied on twitter?

well, you, of course.

he messaged you on a random morning, ‘hey’, was all it said. you happened to have a slight porn addiction of your own, having filled your bookmarks for your own solo sessions. you didn’t realize your messages were open and felt your brow go up as you read his message. a click to his bio and there wasn’t much there, just the year he was born and 🇯🇵. your first instinct was to delete the message, but your curiosity got the best of you. you messaged back, investigated how he found your account, and choso revealed his intentions.

‘are you into the idea of sending some nsfw posts to each other?’

choso used to sext with his ex girlfriends, but none of them wanted to include porn. they found it weird and considered it cheating to look at videos while in a relationship. now here he was, randomly texting a stranger on the internet to get a quick nut. if he wasn’t palming his dick through his shorts right now, he’d actually think he looked a bit pathetic. it wasn’t until you said yes and started sending your bookmarked videos did he realize what he was getting himself into.

freeing his dick from his briefs, he started to stroke himself while imagining himself doing the things in the videos with you. he didn’t know what you looked like, hell, he wasn’t even sure you were who you said you were. but you were just as porn obsessed as he was, and he didn’t think you could get any better until you sent another message.

‘let me suck it while you play video games.’

it’s like you knew the exact words to say to get him off. choso hastily reciprocated, although it had become quite difficult to type with one hand. he confessed on how desperately he wanted to cum in your pussy and how you suck him in so well, not knowing that you too had started pleasuring yourself at the mere thought. it had been a while and you needed some action too, okay? his messages started getting further and further apart until he asked you to send a post he can finish to. bringing yourself back to reality for a quick moment to send him a creampie video, how could you have known his favorite genre? you found yourself soon chasing your own orgasm. the echoes of the moans coming from your phone had blended with yours, and you soon came undone on your fingers. 

once you remembered to look at your phone again, choso had let you know that he had made a mess, followed by a picture of his cum stained hand and torso. when you sent back a picture of your glistening fingers and soiled sheets, choso audibly moaned. what a pervert.

‘fuck, you’re making me hard… is same time tomorrow good with you?’

part 2

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uhh welp this is my first piece of work on tumblr LMFAO HEY GUYS! special shoutout to my pookie bears @gojoscinnamonroll @xixflower @takumasimp @webism for encouraging me and AAAAAAAA I HOPE SOMEBODY LIKES THIS,,,, i wanna keep posting on here so lmk what you think :3 ok bye beanie out

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.