#i love him but i would not hesitate to break every bone in his body because of this

[themareverine]

For your From Mare with Love may I request a Van Helsing story where the reader is the latest unfortunate victim of a priest who believes any woman who he is attracted to has to be a witch because he is so pious. She was born with a gift which ties her to nature so it was easier for the priest to make his claims. Van Helsing saves her and she ends up joining him and helping him in the future

— My Bed in Hell

Gabriel Van Helsing x fem!reader tags: mentions of time travel, mentions of religious persecution and divine intervention, me being absolutely way too indulgent with the religious themes of this character, fluff, a hot kiss, lol. a/n: thank you so much for challenging me with Gabe! I played around with your ask just a little and tried to incorporate some of the the Church thinks she's a witch themes you suggested. Hopefully you enjoy it — for my first GVH fic, I rather like it!

☆ ── 💌FROM MARE WITH LOVE

If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.

Familiar sprays of light from a high moon paint the forest in a menagerie of shadows. A free canopy of green overhead veils any trace of low stars that threaten to fall, trees of every kind stand quiet – sentinels to deep secrets lingering within the thick darkness.

Occasional breeze kicks up the song of rustling branches, the forest floors' energy moves with the scant presence of creatures venturing out for their own breed of social hour. 

The loudest sound is the heavy weight of his horse entering the quiet scene of forest with every step, the stillness ripped away with every one of the steed’s sharp breaths.

The air is chilled. Every hot breath is noticed, the animal’s heartbeat almost tangible deep in his chest as he pulls up to a brisk top, head pulled back on the sharp bit against his teeth. 

Gabriel’s hand is hard on the reins as his eyes cast through the small clearing of the wood — it’s a decent fortress of limbs and foliage, thin and thick varieties of tree making it nearly impassible, at first blush.

Mostly dark save the chiaroscuro of light falling through the canopy of leaves, it would serve well for the respite they needed. 

A few hours of sleep would do everyone good, he can feel the brash exhaustion of the animal in his hands, his temper on blade’s edge with every shift of the animal’s weight. Himself, he can barely manage the ache of a headache spearing through his temple—even in the low light of the moon, everything is painfully white-hot. 

Her head lolls against his shoulder lifts when his tongue tsks the animal to a still, Gabriel’s hand falling to hers wrapped around his middle.

Able to feel the shift of her eyes, the kick of her heartbeat is all but tangible against his back as she considers the small forest clearing —fear.

It jumps like a cat into her blood, thick. Tart. 

Giving her hands a light squeeze, he rests his hand against the horn of the saddle.

“This will do until the morning,” he gestures around the clearing, nodding to the thick willow’s low branches, “I don’t believe anyone will pursue the depth of the forest at this hour. We should be safe.”

Even though he’s spoken with surety, he can feel her bristle at the lack of confidence of his verbiage.

“Should be?” Settling softly behind him, she angles her head around his frame to offer a suspicious look. “Oh, that’s reassuring—either we are, or we aren’t, I don’t do the entire vague, in-between-the-sheets thing.”

It takes all the strength he possesses not to laugh at her way with words — it’s certainly odd, how she speaks. So loose and free, as if there isn’t a bone of hesitation in her entire body. 

Her breath is heavy as it slips from her, her tone taking to a quiet Gabriel didn’t expect.

“I don’t hear the dogs anymore. Maybe they are gone.” Gabriel can hear her swallow the break in her voice, the tremble of her words low against his back.

His chuckle is light, placating. 

“Precisely,” a wry smile as he pats her hands, still bunched around his waist. “Hold fast, I’ll assist you off.” 

Swinging out of the saddle, he adjusts the reins in his hand and offers his other to her. Considering it for a moment, she slips her hand into his and angles to slip off the animal, using him as a counterbalance. Her feet find the forest beneath them, her warmth assaulting at so close a distance. 

Her radiant scent is sharp beneath his nose, hanging there like the low fruit of Eve. It’s a sweet floral he’s never before smelled in his time, but that was tracking — nothing about her was usual.

By her own admittance, by Christ Himself she swore, she was not from here. Not in a sense of residency within city lines or territories, never so simply — she was not from this time, this age.

From beyond the stars, beyond the sensical. 

Standing there in the rain, weeks before — in the long shadows of the Church’s persecutions, she’d confessed, seeking redemption. Compassion, maybe even sense.

As if he were a priest, a man worthy of such a view of the heart. 

His own demons haunted him, licked at the secrets entombed within the very marrow of his bones — but she’d spoken to him like an equal. A friend. Not a martyr or a demon, not an outcast.

She’d seen someone worthy of revelation, there in the rain, of the childlike innocence she carried between each word, every confession.

A lily among valley thorns, certainly — a lamb among wolves. 

They called her a witch, to be burned at stakes unforgiving. But in its place he saw revelation, a bold light given by the grace of heaven — very few things were in between heaven and hell, but she was one of them.

Perhaps the only thing.

For uncountable lifetimes he’d been born in hell, racing in and out of darkness. And through such peril, there had been the promise – hope. Faith. That things would change.

Evidence of things he did not see, merely felt. 

And here she was.

If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there —

Certainly, Master. And You have sent someone to deliver me from such eternal struggle, such lostness.

It had only taken lifetimes, but — Providence.

Always Providence. 

If he weren’t a man of the impossible himself, it would still be difficult to deny – her story, that is. It was no small wonder, the perception of her as a witch. From personal experience he knew the Church feared what it did not understand, despite the order of God Himself. People were a fickle thing, certainly, prone to their own misgivings and terrors. 

And claiming to pass through time, casting out the demonic, predicting things about the world – terrors indeed. 

Her hand lingering against his chest is almost inferno, burning like the pits of hell he’d so often envisioned in his nightmares. But nothing about her was devastating, save perhaps her beauty—such loveliness.

A rare and almost visceral kind of beauty that, on occasion in their short acquaintence, left him breathless. Choking on everything and nothing, unable to think past the ache in the low of his gut, the throb of heat in places only confessed to God. 

Each passing minute at her side was wild. Unpredictable to a fault. He’d learned things one could only ever dream. 

Her hand pulls away and it empties him of any courage. Eve in all her radiance could not have compared, as she moves to run fingers through the animal’s mane, brush noses with the stallion's snorting, lathered nose.

Even in the shadows of the thick night, her smile to the horse is brilliant, enough to leave him agog, chest hollow. 

Managing a rough cough, he pats the animal’s thick neck reassuringly, draping reins over the saddle. Retrieving his pack, Gabriel guides the stallion to one of the small trees.

Tying off the reins securely, he gestures for her to come with a wave of his hand, ducking low under the fronds of the Goliath willow. 

Like a veil, he parts its foliage with his hand and beckons her with a crooked finger.

“We’ll rest here until morning,” dropping to a knee, he beds down the floor of the forest for them, “I will keep watch -- keep away those things that creep along in the night," his lighthearted chuckle rousts a warmth in his chest he finds amusing, but a glance her direction cuts him dry.

Even in the shadows of the willow, he watches her expression change.

“You’re not resting?” Concern floods her expression, stirring the depth of his belly.

“No,” he challenges firmly, settling in against the base of the tree. “One of us should stay awake to keep watch — you never know what lingers in the thick wood.” A quicksilver smile, as he cards his gloved fingers through his hair.

Sighing deeply, Gabriel gestures to the spot beside him. Her eyes move from considering him to his suggestion, before cutting back to the smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

Ah, yes. Her honor. “No harm comes to you, surely you know this. You have my word.” Hand against his breast, his lips curl in another quick, coy grin.

“Mhm. Convinced of it, I'm sure.” Everything about her tone suggests otherwise, pulls a chuckle from him.

A sharp breath pops between her lips, and she moves to sit beside him, wrapping the thick wool of his riding cloak around her. 

He feels her fall against the strength of the tree, her deep breaths coming more steadily as her heart begins to settle. 

Minutes pass between them as the forest accepts their presence, returning to its tranquil state of living in the night — the occasional buzz of an insect, the faraway snap of wood high in the trees.

Intrusive sound in the small clearing is reserved only for the horse, who investigates his tie with a snort, and their breathing. 

Crossing a foot over the other, he bristles a little when her weight shifts to lean against his arm.

“Gabe?" The sure strength of her voice is quiet, now, lost in the growing darkness of the woods beyond their haven — her hand moves to rest against the front of his coat, he can feel her playing with the stitching in a way that is not offensive. 

Before he knows it, his arm lifts to allow her ever closer. “Hm?” 

Her head angles to peer up at him as she settles in, a soft look about her eyes more dazzling than any star he’d seen overhead.

Alive for lifetimes, he’d rarely ever witnessed such beautiful things so close at hand — the cosmos, only ever. 

Captivated, he gently lifts her chin up and back, considering the plush curve of her mouth — how she fits so divinely at his side, unlike any other woman alive.

His tongue burns with the desire to taste her, he can barely think past the racing blood galloping in his ears. He can feel her pulse hammering just in the light touch of his fingers, more of a permission than most men required. 

Her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, roughly in a way that sends him spinning—a state Gabriel Van Helsing rarely, if ever, feels.

“Thank you, for everything,” her gaze becomes low beneath her fan of lashes, soft features nearly glowing in whatever light the moon lends, “I’m—I’m scared, Gabe. But without you, I’d—” 

The corner of his mouth lifts, amused. He knows how difficult this is. But it isn’t necessary, it never will be.

Nothing has to be so complicated when it, instead, is so beautiful. 

“I know,” pulling her a little closer, his hand gently pulls through her hair, eyes wandering the lines of her features. How the Church could deny such a thing he’d never understand—purely angelic. Wholly divine.

Fully his, “There’s little to fear, darling — I am here, by the hand of God. Even in hell.”

His tongue skates his bottom lip, easing into the idea of her heart thrumming like a scared rabbit against his ribs.

“You needn’t worry about a thing.” 

The soft inhale of breath, when his mouth slants against hers. Her pulse gallops as she folds against his chest, clinging to his clothes like they are lines of life — her mouth parts him for like she’s viewing the world for the first time.

Forbidden fruit, he swallows her moan with a sweep of his tongue. Hard, hungry, he steals from her every breath, every skip of her heart as she melds into his hand, pliable. 

Divinity is in the way she feels, he thinks — the design of God, the holiness of innocence. 

If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. 

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

@kmc1989

@steviebbboi

@matronmothercrone

[livingd34dgrl]

abigail hobbs brain rot sorry, but i’m like tormented by the tragedy of her existence, i think about her all the time, my silly lil gal, we should’ve gotten more of her character, ESPECIALLY the time gap where she was hidden away-like what they did in s3 showing how they faked her murder-how do they keep the show going without answering me on my questions? how close did she attempt to get to hannibal to stay alive? did she know they were planning to run away? did she get comforted with the thought of a new life, far from her old one? do you think the reason she was able to sleep in that stupid house was because of the comfort that maybe-just maybe, she could live a life? she was far from being will or hannibal, she wouldn’t have survived even if will left with them, her death was at every twist and corner-and i think the worst part is she knew-god she knew and walked right into the role she was supposed to play when death came knocking-how do i recover from that? how do i recover seeing her grasping for any end that doesn’t involve her dying, shaking and gasping for air on a kitchen floor???

[shinig6mis]

bakugou katsuki had never known what it meant to feel empty until he lost you.

before you, his world had been loud, filled with fists connecting against bone, the roar of the underground fight ring, the sharp sting of sweat in his eyes as he threw himself into another round, another fight, another way to prove he was the strongest. he was unstoppable. untouchable.

and then one day, you came along. he still remembers the first time he saw you—standing in the dim glow of the underground fight ring, mina at your side, eyes wide as you took everything in, clearly looking like you didn't belong in this scene.

you softened the edges of him, seeped into the cracks he didn’t even know he had. he fought just as hard, bled just as much, but suddenly, there was something else waiting for him after it all. your voice was the first thing he wanted to hear after a match, your hands the only ones he wanted patching him up. and fuck, he’d never needed anyone before, never let himself. but you? you were different. you were home to him.

and then you were gone.

it had been months since the break up. months of sleepless nights and nights he drank too much trying to forget. months of stepping into that ring and scanning the crowd, always looking for your face, knowing deep down that you wouldn’t be there.

he knew it was his fault. you had begged him to stop fighting, pleaded with him after every match when he came back to you with busted knuckles and bloodied lips. “one day you’re not gonna get back up, katsuki,” you had whispered against his shoulder one night, voice thick with worry. “and i won’t be there to watch it happen.”

he had scoffed at the time, muttered some bullshit about how he wasn’t some weakling who would get taken down. his pride has always been his fatal flaw. but you didn’t care about that. you cared about him. you cared too much. and in the end, it was that love you had for him that had made you walk away.

he didn’t blame you for it. but fuck if it didn’t destroy him.

so he threw himself into the fights, let the pain fill the void you left behind. he fought harder. angrier. he turned every match into a battlefield, fists swinging like they could beat the ache out of his chest. it wasn’t even about the rush anymore. it was about punishing himself for letting you go.

he hated that you were still everywhere. in the way he flinched whenever someone pressed too hard on a wound, knowing it wasn’t your touch. in the way his bed felt too fucking big without your body curled up against his. in the way he still looked for you in a room even though he knew he wouldn’t find you.

and tonight, with alcohol burning in his veins, fresh wounds littering his skin, and a hollow ache in his chest that no amount of fighting could fix, he found himself on your doorstep.

he didn’t even remember getting there. all he knew was that the second he sat down against your door, his body slumped with exhaustion, something in him settled. because even if he couldn’t have you, just being near you and existing in the same space was seemingly enough.

when the elevator dinged, and he heard the soft shuffle of your footsteps, he knew before he even saw you.

“bakugou?” your voice was soft and a bit startled.

he forced himself to lift his head, blinking blearily up at you. you looked the same. exactly the fucking same. and it pissed him off, because how was it fair that you got to move on, untouched, while he was stuck here? while he still loved you so much it hurt?

he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “hey.”

you frowned, taking a step closer, grocery bag shifting in your arms as you took him in—the bruises, the split lip, the haze in his red-rimmed eyes. “what the hell are you doing here?”

he shrugged, but the motion sent a dull throb through his shoulder. “dunno.” his voice came out rough. “just ended up here.”

something flickered across your face. concern, hesitation, or something else he couldn’t name. “get up,” you muttered, unlocking your door. “come inside before someone sees you like this.”

he let you drag him in, the scent of your apartment hitting him all at once. it was the same. it still smelled like you. felt like you. and god, he hated that it still felt like home.

you guided him to the bathroom like you had so many times before. it was muscle memory at this point. he sank down onto the toilet lid without question, watching as you dug through the first aid kit under the sink.

“this isn’t good, bakugou,” you murmured as you pressed a damp cloth to his cheek. “you need stitches.”

he hissed at the sting but didn’t pull away. didn’t take his eyes off you. “don’t need shit.”

you sighed, shaking your head at the fact that he still hasn't changed. “you’re impossible.”

he smirked, but it faded as his gaze dropped to your lips. too close, but still not close enough.

your hands were steady as you worked, but he could feel the tension in your fingers. his face so close and you noticed it too.

his hand found your waist before he could stop himself, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. you stiffened but didn’t move away.

“take me back.” his voice cracked, and he hated how desperate he sounded.

your breath hitched, eyes flickering with something. he couldn’t tell if it was regret, sadness, or probably neither.

“bakugou…” you whispered. “i can’t.”

it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. he knew the answer before he even asked. but hearing it had the final nail driven into the coffin of what you once had.

his grip on your waist tightened for a second before he let you go, feeling himself fall apart all over again.

but then your hand lifted, fingers grazing the side of his face. it was on instinct, the way he leaned into your touch, chasing it like he was starving for it.

“you need to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmured, thumb tracing lightly over a fresh cut on his cheek. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

he let out a bitter laugh. “maybe that’s the point.”

your fingers tightened against his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “don’t say that.”

he blinked at the glassiness in your eyes, the way your lips parted like you wanted to say something else but couldn’t.

and then, before he could stop himself, he surged forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

you inhaled sharply, body going rigid. but you didn’t pull away.

“i love you,” he whispered, voice raw. “fuck, i still love you, y/n. i never stopped.”

your hands moved, sliding into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp in a way that made his breath hitch.

“you make it so hard for me to hate you, you know that?”

his lips twitched. “am i supposed to make it easy?”

you let out a shaky laugh, and god, he missed that sound.

your fingers brushed over his cheek again, softer this time. “you need to sleep, katsuki.”

he exhaled through his nose. “not tired.”

“liar.”

he let out a grunt, but when you tugged him up, guiding him toward your bed, he didn’t resist.

and when he finally lay down and you sat beside him, fingers still tangled in his hair, he let himself believe that he hadn’t lost you completely. just for tonight anyway.

he would let himself have this.

because even if you wouldn’t take him back, even if he was still falling apart without you, at least for now, you were here.

and that was enough.

a/n: sorry if this seems rushed! i wrote this one during an online lecture raaaaghhh but i can't help it i’m such a sucker for soft bakugou >.< expect more of that soon! <3

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — HAPPY BIRTHDAY TETSU ˚

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : getting ready for kuroo’s birthday dinner has brought on a few unexpected surprises.

꒰ contents ꒱ : kuroo tetsuro x reader ; fluff. full of silliness and made with lots of love. reader is pregnant but kuroo doesn’t know, brief alcohol mention, dividers by adornedwithlight — WC : 1.8k

An unnaturally high-pitched, almost bone-chilling scream sounds off in the bathroom. The tube of lipstick you were holding drops onto the vanity with a small clunk before you dart to the source of the distress.

Every light in the bathroom was flicked on, the brightness overwhelming you as you attempt to focus on the scene before you. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight.

Your devastatingly handsome husband, dressed to the nines in one of his best suits, was rustling with his inky, unruly hair in a state of panic. His eyes were wide and filled with a crazed determination as he looked for something. He's never been one to fuss that much over his hair, so it worried you a little.

“Tetsu..?” You ask in a soft voice, taking a cautious step forward with the gentleness of a curious cat. “What’s-"

“I HAVE GRAY HAIR!” He dramatically exclaimed, turning towards you and pointing towards his head. You blink once, twice. In a few easy steps, you’re right in front of this man-child and gently caress his cheek, your eyes trailing from his to the small white hair he was gesturing to.

“Okay?” You look back at him, rubbing your thumb against his cheek soothingly. “It looks good, honey.”

“I can't believe it.” Kuroo goes to break out of your hold, looking back at the mirror in horror. “I just turned thirty, this can’t be happening.”

“It's only one tiny strand of hair, Tetsuro.” You sigh exasperated, walking up to wrap your arms around his slim waist. “Besides, I think it suits you. You’re entering your silver fox era, very sexy of you.”

His body rumbles against yours as he lets out a reluctant chuckle before his hands move down to rest over yours, giving them a gentle pat. The twin golden bands that adjourn your ring fingers shine under the fluorescent lights, the glint catches your eye as it happily reflects in the mirror. 

“If you say so.” He didn’t look convinced, still frowning at his reflection. If he didn’t look so adorably pitiful, you might’ve felt bad. “Just pluck it off me. Please.”

“Aw, I love it when you beg.” The pout on his face only deepens.

“Ha, ha. Way to kick a man while he’s down, babe.” The sarcasm flows past his lips, clearly unimpressed with your lack of sympathy in this life changing moment.

“You’re so dramatic.” Without hesitation, you go to grab the defenseless strand of hair and it comes off all too easily. It only takes a second for everything to click into place. “Tetsu.”

“Did you get it?” His eyes are squeezed shut, bracing for the impact that never comes.

“Kuroo.” The use of his surname has him straightening up, eyes flying open. The piece of hair falls into his palm and he looks at it, completely gobsmacked. “This is cat hair.”

The cackle of his laugh drowns out the silence in the cramped room, his head tossed back in absolute delight. Whether it’s over the fact that it was just cat hair or the simple fact of him not having gray hair yet, you’re not sure, but you can’t find it in you to be mad. Not when his amber eyes twinkle and shine as they brim with joyful tears. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips. The two of you were always coated in cat hair of some sort and Kuroo had an affinity for nuzzling his head against the kitties. It’s no wonder one had found its place nestled in his hair.

“Would you love me even if I was already graying?” He asks, but there’s a tone of insecurity that weaves itself into the cracks of his voice. Thirty was a new milestone, one that he had been looking forward to but birthdays always seem to shove the concept of time right in your face.

With a tenderness that came as easy as breathing, you press a sweet kiss against his lips. It quickly blooms into a life of its own as you pour everything you wish to say into it. 

The love that will remain eternal, the warmth of all the sunsets you will watch together, the endless laughs you have yet to share, the sweet promise of tomorrow and the rest of your lives together.

“My love, I'll be with you until you’re old and gray and screaming over the fact that you found a black hair in place of all that gray.” You giggle, carding your fingers through the soft, unruly strands in an attempt to smooth it all over. “I meant it when I said my vows. I'm with you forever.”

The words reassure him, letting your promise melt over him and ease all the tension out of his body. There was never any doubt, of course, but he always loved hearing the reminder.

“My sweet wife.” With a boyish grin, Kuroo spins you around and securely cradles you in his arms, gently swaying side to side.

“My silly husband.” Reaching up behind you, you affectionately pat the palm of your hand against his cheek.

The warmth of his smile cascades through you, a beam of affection that never fails to give you butterflies despite how long you’ve been together. Something that will forever remain unchanged.

Kuroo kisses the side of your head, pressing his cheek against yours as you lovingly gaze at each other through the bathroom mirror.

“You look so beautiful, by the way. The prettiest angel I've ever seen. That dress is almost unfair.” Kuroo kisses down your cheek and along your jaw. “And you smell delicious enough to eat.”

“We have dinner reservations mister, so reel it in.” You smirk, a trait you’ve easily adopted from spending years with the man who was currently pouting over the fact he had to go to his extravagant birthday dinner.

“I suppose you’re right, but I plan on thoroughly enjoying my dessert after.” Kuroo purrs, running his soft lips along your skin, kissing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck to murmur on. “I'll order that champagne you like too, we can pull out all the stops.”

“Too bad I can't drink it.” The words slip out of your mouth faster than you could reel them back in. Kuroo froze for a moment, looking back at you through the mirror.

“Haah?” He gives you a puzzled look, standing up straight. “Why not?”

The reasoning escapes you, replaced by the pitiful opening and closing of your mouth, tongue twisting in every direction as it tries to land on what to say or rather, how to say it. 

The longer you take to respond, the more Kuroo’s eyes widen. Abruptly, he turns to you, quickly grabbing your shoulders as hope shines brightly through his hazel irises.

“Are you..?” He trails off, the words escaping him as well, nothing more than a whisper. All you can do is nod a little before Kuroo envelopes you in a crushing embrace. “You’re pregnant?!” 

“I am.” You smile, letting Kuroo pick you up a little in celebration. He lets out a bark of laughter, squeezing you gently before lowering you back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” He gazes softly at you, fondness crinkling by the corner of his eyes and a smile so genuine that his dimple began to show. 

“I just found out!” You grin back at him, tears brimming your eyes and overjoyed with his reaction. “I wanted to tell you but i didn’t know if tonight was right and —“

“It's more than right.” He presses his forehead against yours, eyes searing into the depths of your soul. “It's perfect. The best birthday gift ever.”

It was no secret that Kuroo had been ready to expand your little family for a while now. It was something you had wanted too but when the timing was a little better. So you had promised him to have that conversation again after he turned thirty. 

At least this saves a little time.

Kuroo carefully slides down your body, falling to his knees in seemingly slow motion. his ear is pressed against your stomach, his hands tenderly gripping your waist. 

“Oh my god.” He whispers so softly you have to strain to hear him. “I'm going to be a father.”

“You’re going to be such a good dad, Tetsu.” You run your fingers through his inky black hair. Kuroo looks up at you, wide-eyed and hopeful as his chin gently presses against your abdomen.

“You really think so?” He asks, vulnerability licking at his tone. 

“I know so.” You smile. The reassurance flooded his system, reigniting the excitement of it all. He grins back at you once again and all feels right in the world. The ghost of his lips brush along the fabric that serves as a barrier to your lower abdomen, a place that he plans on showering with love as much as he can.

“Hang on!” Kuroo stands back up so abruptly it almost gives you whiplash. You shouldn’t wear those heels, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Tetsu, I-“ Your sentence is interrupted by a squeal as Kuroo picks you up bridal style and marches towards your room. He sits you on the edge of the bed. “Tetsu, I’m only 7 weeks pregnant.” 

“Still.” Kuroo lifts your foot, fiddling with the straps of your heel before sensually sliding it off, giving your ankle a kiss for good measure. He does the same with the other foot, his eyes set on you. “You better start getting used to this, sweetheart.”

The other heel hits the ground with a distant thud as Kuroo kisses up along your leg, the fabric of the dress annoyingly getting in his way until he slides his head under it.

“Tetsu, we have reservations.” You try to squirm away but his hands grip your hips before his head pops back out to look at you with a serious expression.

“We’re not going.” He decides, hands roaming along your body. “Let's get take out, I wanna take care of you tonight.”

“It's your birthday though.” You can’t help but pout a little, guilt slowly seeping through the cracks of excitement from earlier. If only you had kept the news a secret a little longer —

“Shh.” Kuroo sits back up so his face is directly in front of yours, nuzzling his nose against yours. He always knew when you’d retreat into your mind and never let you fall too deep before lulling you back. “You gave me the perfect gift and nothing would make me happier than spoiling you a bit.”

“But—“ 

“No buts. It’s my birthday after all, and I get final say.” With a dastardly smirk, he kisses you with all the love in the world, his palm happily resting on your stomach. The excitement of the coming days in your lives grows alongside the little one that will bring you so much joy in the near future. 

thank you very much for reading. happy birthday tetsu 💋

[writeriguess]

Hi! I love that you're back here on Tumblr writing. oh, I came to request a Bakugou x reader. She is a celebrity (I leave it up to you what kind of celebrity) and Bakugou is a prohero! They want to blackmail him into doing something to his beloved famous girlfriend. Angst is fine but with a happy ending I have no complaints, thanks u guurl 🙇🏼‍♀️❤️

author's note: Thank you <3

Scandal and Smoke

You always knew dating a pro hero came with risks. Paparazzi swarmed like vultures, tabloids twisted every glance, and the constant scrutiny of your every move never let up. But you could handle that. You were used to it—fame had clung to you like a second skin since you were sixteen.

What you weren’t prepared for was the darkness that came with it.

Katsuki Bakugou, Pro Hero Dynamight, had always been fiercely protective. He didn’t tolerate anyone looking at you wrong, let alone threatening you. But this time, it was different. This time, the threat wasn’t just some faceless internet troll or a rogue villain looking for leverage.

This time, it was someone with power. Someone who had something on him.

It started with a phone call in the middle of the night. You barely stirred when he slipped out of bed to answer it, his voice a low, dangerous growl. You recognized that tone—it was the one he used when something was wrong.

When he returned, his jaw was set in a hard line, tension rolling off him in waves.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated for half a second—longer than usual. Then he forced a scoff. “Nothin’. Just work shit. Go back to sleep.”

But you knew him too well. And you knew a lie when you heard one.

Days passed, and Katsuki wasn’t himself. He was distracted, irritable, pulling away from you in ways he never had before. He stopped kissing you before he left for patrol. Stopped calling you in between missions. When you tried to touch him, he flinched—like he was afraid of what would happen if he let himself get close.

Then came the first message.

A sleek black envelope, slipped under his agency’s door. Inside: a photograph.

A grainy image of you, taken through the window of your apartment, unaware of the camera. On the back, a single sentence:

Make her do it. Or we will.

Katsuki’s blood turned to ice.

It took three days for him to admit the truth.

“They want me to trick you into—” His voice caught, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. “They want me to set you up. To get you alone with one of them.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean?”

Katsuki turned away, his whole body shaking with barely restrained rage. “They want me to make you trust someone—let ‘em get close. To get you in a situation where you can’t fight back.” His breath hitched, voice breaking. “They want me to give you to them.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating.

You took a step closer. “And if you don’t?”

His laughter was bitter, hollow. “They’ve got dirt on me. I dunno how, but it’s bad. Bad enough they think they can control me.” His eyes burned with frustration. “They said if I don’t do it, they’ll hurt you themselves.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. The thought of someone using Katsuki, of forcing his hand like this, made your skin crawl. But you weren’t afraid of him.

You were afraid of what they might push him to do.

Days passed, and the threats grew more direct. A package arrived at your apartment with an unmarked USB drive. Footage played of someone tailing you through the city, lingering outside your agency, taking note of every routine you had. They were watching your every move, waiting for Katsuki to obey.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

And that’s when they pushed too far.

Katsuki met with them under the cover of night, a controlled explosion of fury barely restrained in his bones. He pretended to comply, feigning hesitation, playing into their sick little game.

The moment they let their guard down, he struck.

“Did you really think you could make me betray her?” Katsuki’s voice was a growl as he dodged a swinging pipe, grabbing the bastard’s wrist and twisting until he heard a satisfying snap. “You thought I’d hand her over like some fuckin’ package?!”

A second attacker lunged at him, but Katsuki ducked under the blow, shoving his palm against their chest. “Die,” he snarled before a controlled explosion sent them flying into a pile of crates.

Another man stepped forward, smirking. “You think you’ve won, Dynamight?” he taunted, wiping blood from his lip. “You’re outnumbered.”

Katsuki cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. “So what?” he spat. “You’re all just dead men walkin’.”

The explosion rocked the empty warehouse, sending metal and concrete raining down. Before the dust settled, he had taken down the first attacker, fists meeting flesh with bone-crushing force.

Backup arrived within minutes—his own setup, a team of trusted heroes swarming in to dismantle the operation. The blackmailers were subdued, their leverage destroyed, their threats turned to nothing.

When he finally returned to you, bloody but victorious, you could barely breathe.

“Katsuki!” You ran to him, hands hovering over his injuries. “Oh my god, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, but his hands shook as he pulled you in, pressing his forehead to yours. “They’re gone. They can’t touch you.”

Your vision blurred with tears. “You should have told me sooner.”

“I know,” he admitted, voice raw. “I was scared.”

You cupped his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palm. “Of them?”

“No.” He let out a shaky breath. “Of losing you.”

You kissed him—desperate, relieved, grounding. His arms tightened around you, holding you like he’d never let go.

“You’re safe,” he whispered against your lips. “We’re safe.”

Tears burned your eyes as you held him tighter. “We are.”

And for once, the only thing left to burn between you was love.

[wendichester]

yay! So I was wondering if I could get a cute little scenario where Castiel is usually the big spoon, but the reader convinces him to let her hold him and he's just so soft and smitten for her??

I feel like he would be like a cat, he almost literally melts in her lap lmao

Thank you!!!

-💫

໒꒱ིྀ༝⁺ angel in need,

summary. the height on castiel's shoulders is always heavy, except when he's with you.

pairing. castiel x reader

wordcount. 414

notes. castiel always feels like such a comfort figure--giving something back to him just feels right

Castiel is sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across his face. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the cosmos again, and your heart aches at the sight.

You approach him quietly, slipping into bed and settling behind him. Your arms slide around his middle, and he stiffens for just a moment before he exhales, the tension easing from his body like the tide pulling away from the shore.

“You’re always taking care of everyone,” you murmur softly, your cheek resting against his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel his hands brush against yours, tentative and searching. Slowly, he leans back into you, allowing himself to rest against your chest. It’s hesitant at first, like he’s unsure of how to let go, but once he does, it’s like something inside him unravels.

Your fingers start moving in slow circles across his ribs, tracing patterns you’re not even aware of. His breathing evens out, his head tipping slightly to the side as if inviting you closer. You press a soft kiss to the crown of his head, and he sighs—a deep, bone-weary sound that breaks your heart a little.

He’s always so composed, so steady, but here, in your arms, he’s something softer. Something fragile. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. The way he relaxes completely against you says more than words ever could.

Your hand moves to his hair, combing through the dark strands gently, and you feel him melt further into your touch. His body seems lighter somehow, like he’s let go of something heavy. You can’t help but smile at the way he shifts to get even closer, his head nestling against your collarbone.

He’s warm and solid, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets himself be held. It’s intimate in a way that surprises you, a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest tighten with love for him.

Eventually, his breathing slows, his entire form going slack as he relaxes completely in your arms. His trust in you is absolute, and you feel it in every relaxed muscle, every steady inhale.

You hold him a little tighter, your lips brushing against his temple in a silent promise: I’ve got you.

And as the two of you rest together, the world outside fades, leaving nothing but the quiet comfort of the moment.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups

[partoffantasy]

When the Dawn Fades - Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

⸻ image credits to artbycassmira & etherealbookart ⸻

summary: Aaric’s signet has always warned him of the inevitable, but when the time comes, saying goodbye to the love of his life proves to be the hardest part.

pairing: aaric graycastle x fem!reader warnings: angst, death, battle - ONYX STORM SPOILERS - if you haven’t read Onyx Storm yet, don’t read further word count: 2.9k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The Riorson house was quieter than usual. The air inside felt heavy, weighed down by the unspoken fears none of them dared to voice. Outside, the wind howled against the stone walls, the approaching storm a mirror of the battle that will soon be there. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting long shadows along the floor, but even the warmth of the flames couldn't chase away the cold settling deep in Y/N’s bones.

She found Aaric standing by the window, his silhouette outlined in the dim glow of the lanterns. He wasn’t watching the storm, nor was he sharpening his blade like the others. He just stood there, staring out at nothing, his hands resting lightly on the windowsill. The tension in his shoulders was subtle but there—tight, restrained, like he was holding something inside.

Y/N had always prided herself on knowing him better than anyone. She had seen past the layers of arrogance and wit, had fallen for the man underneath—one who loved fiercely, who carried the weight of his past and still somehow found it in himself to care. And right now, she knew something was wrong. “You’re thinking too much,” she murmured, stepping up beside him. She reached out, fingers brushing over his wrist before lacing her hand with his, grounding him. “That’s dangerous.”

Aaric let out a quiet chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned to her then, really looked at her, his gaze tracing every line of her face as if memorizing it. As if it were the last time he’d get the chance. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m always thinking,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual, rough around the edges. “It’s a hard habit to break.” Y/N arched a brow, tilting her head slightly. “That’s not it.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t argue. He never could lie to her, not convincingly. Instead, his hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing softly over her knuckles, the smallest act of comfort. A beat of silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant murmur of voices in the other room—Xaden, Violet, and the others discussing last-minute battle strategies. But none of that mattered right now. Not when Aaric looked at her like this. Like she was something precious. Like she was something he didn’t want to lose.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, the words slipping past his lips like a confession, like a prayer. Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Not because she hadn’t known—she had felt it in the way he touched her, in the way he spoke to her, in every glance and smirk and whispered tease. But this… this was different. This was raw. She swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. “I love you too.”

Aaric exhaled, his forehead coming to rest against hers, the weight of his presence a comfort she hadn’t known she needed. For a moment, they just stood there, breathing each other in, holding onto something neither of them wanted to name. Because if they did, it would make it real. And Y/N didn’t want to acknowledge the sinking feeling in her gut, the way his body felt like it was saying goodbye.

Before she could press him, before she could demand to know what he wasn’t telling her, Aaric pulled back, his hand coming up to cup her face. His thumb brushed over her cheek, his touch reverent, almost hesitant. “I need you to promise me something,” he murmured. Y/N frowned. “Aaric—” “Promise me.” She hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What is it?” His jaw clenched for a second before he exhaled, shaking his head like he was trying to dispel whatever thought had crossed his mind. “Just… no matter what happens out there, you keep going. You fight, you survive.”

Something icy settled in her chest. “Don’t talk like that.” “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Promise me.” She didn’t want to. She wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, that they were going to fight side by side and win like they always did. But there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite decipher, something that made her stomach twist.

So she nodded. “I promise.” Aaric exhaled in relief, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. "Do you remember the first time we met?" Aaric asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. Y/N smiled despite the unease coiling in her stomach. "You mean when you insulted my flying skills and almost got a dagger to the throat? How could I forget?" Aaric chuckled, the sound warm, genuine. "You were so furious. I think I fell in love with you right then and there. I'd never seen anyone so breathtaking when angry."

She rolled her eyes, but her fingers tightened around his. "You have a strange way of falling in love, Graycastle." His gaze softened, his free hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It wasn’t just that. It was the way you never backed down, the way you fought like the world itself depended on it. The way you looked at me like I was more than my name, more than my past. You saw me, Y/N. You always have."

Her throat tightened, her heart aching at the quiet sincerity in his voice. "Of course, I see you. And I love you, Aaric. Every sharp edge, every reckless decision, every stubborn, infuriating part of you." He exhaled, almost like he had been holding his breath, his forehead pressing more firmly against hers. "I love you so much it terrifies me. If I had more time—" "Don’t say that," she whispered, cutting him off. "We have all the time in the world. That should be enough."

Aaric swallowed hard, nodding slightly, his lips brushing against her temple as he breathed her in. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before resting his lips against her temple, breathing her in. Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to believe that everything would be fine. But deep down, she knew. Something was very, very wrong.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The morning of the battle arrived with a sky the color of steel, clouds hanging low, heavy with the chance of rain. The group stirred early. Armor was fastened, weapons checked and re-checked, but there was no nervous chatter today, no mindless teasing to keep spirits high. Everyone knew what lay ahead. Y/N tightened the straps of her vambrace, glancing over at Aaric across the room. He stood at the far end, adjusting the buckles of his own armor, his movements steady, deliberate. Too calm.

She had seen him before battle dozens of times, had watched him prepare with the same efficiency, the same focus. But this was different. It was in the set of his shoulders, in the way his fingers lingered on each strap as if memorizing the feel of it. It was in the way he looked around the room, at their friends, at her—like he was drinking it all in. Y/N’s chest tightened.

She crossed the room in quick strides, grabbing his wrist before he could pick up his sword. He looked down at her, expression unreadable. “You’re too quiet,” she said, searching his face. “Too… still.” His lips twitched, just slightly. “Would you rather I be pacing?” “I’d rather you be yourself.” Aaric exhaled softly, lifting a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I am myself, Y/N.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re—” Her voice caught. “You’re acting like you already know how this is going to end.” Something flickered in his eyes. It was gone before she could name it, replaced by something softer, sadder. His fingers traced along her jaw, tilting her face up to his. “I know one thing,” he murmured. “I know that I love you.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Then fight like it.” Aaric’s lips parted, but whatever he had meant to say was cut off by the sound of Xaden’s voice calling for them. The time had come. He exhaled, stepping back, reaching for his sword. “Let’s go.” Y/N followed, but the weight of his words sat heavy in her chest.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The ground trembled beneath them as the dragons and wyverns collided onto the battlefield. It was chaos incarnate. The clash of steel, the crackle of fire, the deafening roars of dragons and the eerie shriek of Venin’s wyvern filled the air. The wind howled, carrying the stench of smoke and blood, the scent of a world on the brink of destruction.

Y/N’s heart beat in her chest like a war drum. Her fingers clenched tightly on the scales of her dragon, Caelan, the familiar heat of the bond between them sparking through her veins. The dragon’s emerald scales shimmered as they dove toward the frontlines, wings cutting through the air with swift precision. “Aaric!” Y/N shouted, her voice nearly lost in the storm of noise that surrounded them. She felt the weight of the moment in the pit of her stomach, the tension in the air crackling like lightning. “Stay close!”

Aaric’s voice came through next to her, steady despite the madness. “Always.” Molvic, the massive blue dragon, surged forward beside Caelan, his form sleek and deadly. Aaric, perched atop him with a focused intensity in his eyes, raised his sword high, signaling the beginning of the charge. Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight. They had fought side by side before, and they would do it again, even if this time felt different. More final.

They were going into the heart of Venin’s forces, and they weren’t alone. Around them, the air was alive with the sounds of battle. The distant crack of lightning, the clash of weapons, the screech of wyverns and dragons in combat. Y/N’s eyes scanned the battlefield, locking onto a Venin, who stood near the center, his wyvern circling around him with a sickeningly familiar malice. 

Aaric’s voice was clipped. “We’ll have to get in close, or we’ll lose our advantage.” Y/N nodded, eyes narrowing as she signaled Caelan to bank left, swooping low over the ground. The venin’s cruel laugh echoed through the battlefield as he saw them approach. “Come, come! I’ve been waiting for this,” he taunted, raising his arms in a grotesque display of confidence. His wyvern screeched in agreement, its claws itching to tear through anything in its path.

The battle intensified around them. Dragons and wyverns tangled in the air, their roars shaking the heavens. Y/N’s mind was a blur, every instinct screaming for her to survive, to fight with everything she had. Aaric’s voice cut through the madness. “We need to take out the venin first!”

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on the venin’s glowing red eyes. Caelan roared, and she positioned her alloy arrow once more as they dove toward the venin, weaving through the air with deadly precision. “Molvic!” Aaric’s voice rang out again, commanding. “Distract him! Give Y/N the opening she needs!” Aaric’s voice was the spark she needed. With a primal scream, Y/N shot her arrow right into the venin’s heart. This time, it hit. 

The battle raged on around them, but all Y/N could hear was the pounding of her heart, the frantic beat of her pulse as she pushed Caelan toward the heart of the chaos. The smell of smoke and blood thickened the air, the distant roars of dragons and the screams of the dying blurring into a single, maddening noise. But none of that mattered. Not anymore.

All that mattered was Aaric. Her eyes searched frantically for him, her breath ragged. Her mind was a whirlwind, her thoughts clouded with the memory of his words, his promise—his love. He had known something, something she hadn't wanted to acknowledge. He had been distant, too calm, too serene. And now, as her gaze finally landed on him, her chest clenched.

Aaric was kneeling on the ground, Molvic's massive blue form slumped beside him, the dragon’s body still but not lifeless. The battle had raged on, but the two of them—rider and dragon—were no longer part of it. His armor was bloodied, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his face pale, but his eyes… His eyes were the same as always—sharp, intelligent, filled with that haunting, quiet sorrow. And it was in those eyes that Y/N knew.

Her breath caught in her throat as she rushed to his side, her hands shaking as she knelt beside him, pulling him into her arms as best as she could. He was warm, but there was no strength in him, no vitality in his touch. His body felt heavy, too heavy, as if he were already slipping away from her. "Aaric..." Her voice broke, a desperate whisper as she cradled his face in her hands. "No, no, no… don't do this."

He looked up at her, his lips curling into a soft, almost bitter smile, as if he were seeing her for the first time in forever. His hand moved weakly to her wrist, the touch light, barely a pulse. "Y/N…" he rasped, his voice barely a breath. "I told you, didn’t I? I knew." Her heart clenched painfully, her vision swimming with tears she didn’t want to shed. "No," she whispered fiercely. "You can’t. We can’t—"

His fingers tightened, just slightly, and he struggled to sit up, his breath rattling. Molvic's massive form shifted beside him, his deep blue eyes dimming as the dragon's life force slowly bled away as well. The bond between dragon and rider, so strong, so unbreakable, was starting to sever. She could feel it, the weight of it pressing in on her chest, suffocating her.

"I knew," Aaric whispered again, the words breaking her heart with each passing breath. "When we first met, I knew. And when I saw you, when I really saw you, I knew." His eyes focused on her, trying to hold her gaze despite the pain. "You promised me… you promised you’d keep going." "Please, Aaric, don’t say that," Y/N pleaded, her voice thick with emotion as she leaned her forehead against his. "Please, you’re going to make it. We’ll make it through this."

He chuckled softly, the sound full of both sadness and love. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could’ve kept that promise. But I knew… I knew it would end like this." She shook her head, tears now spilling freely as she held him tighter, unwilling to let go, unwilling to accept the truth that was slowly seeping in. "I can’t lose you, Aaric. I can’t… not like this. Please, don’t leave me."

His hand moved weakly to her cheek, his touch tender despite the fading strength in his body. "You promised… you promised you’d survive, that you’d fight. Don’t break that promise, Y/N. You’ve always been stronger than you know." Her chest heaved with a sob, and she pressed her lips to his forehead, the warmth of his skin so vivid against her tear-streaked face. "I can’t live without you," she whispered brokenly. "Please… please don’t leave me. Not now."

He smiled again, a ghost of the man he had once been, the one full of life and fire, but this time, there was a tenderness in his eyes, an understanding that made her heart shatter. "I’ll always be with you, Y/N. In here…" He pressed his hand gently over her chest, just over her heart. "Always."

Molvic let out a soft, mournful cry, his massive head lowering to nuzzle against Aaric, the bond between them finally breaking as the dragon’s life force flickered and went out. It was slow at first, a delicate fading, as if both dragon and rider were holding on to each other, unwilling to sever their connection. But then, Molvic’s breathing slowed to a stop, and the stillness settled over them like a blanket, the last thread of their bond gone.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Aaric cradled in her arms, Molvic’s still body resting beside them. She didn’t know if the battle still raged around them, or if the world had stopped turning entirely. All she knew was that she couldn’t feel Aaric’s warmth anymore, couldn’t feel the gentle beat of his heart. "Aaric, please…" She kissed his temple, holding him as though her life depended on it. "I love you. I will always love you."

Aaric’s eyes fluttered closed, the last remnants of life slipping away from him. But just before the final breath left him, his lips moved, the words a final confession, a love letter in the form of a whisper. "I love you too, Y/N. Always… always." And with that, he was gone. The world seemed to pause around her as Y/N sat there, holding the lifeless body of the man she had loved. She could still feel the weight of his absence pressing down on her, could still hear the quiet whisper of his voice in her mind. But there was no going back.

The battle raged on, but all Y/N could do was hold on to his memory. The promise he had made her was now hers to fulfill. She had to keep going. For him. For them both. Her heart shattered, but she didn’t stop. She would fight. She would survive. And she would live, no matter how broken she was, no matter how much it hurt. But in her chest, where Aaric’s hand had once pressed, something flickered to life. The fire of his love. And it burned brighter than anything the darkness could throw at her.

[ara-the-great]

Savage Kisses

Tw: slightly mentions of gore(?)

(This was originally a snippet from a story I was writing. So i thought why not turn it into Sylus fic.)

You remember when you first realised how much physically stronger Sylus was than you. Of course you knew he was strong but it hadn't really crossed your mind to compare his strength to yours since he was always controlling his strength around you. You didn't know what you expected when he had handed you the package. You had pestered him to let you help him carry the boxes and with much hesitation he had agreed. you had considered youself strong- at least stronger than the ladies your age- and seeing Sylus lift the boxes with ease made you sure that you could help speed along the process. What you didn't consider was the actual weight of the boxes. They were much heavier than they looked - than Sylus had let on. You nearly stumbled trying to pick one of the boxes up.

"Are you sure you want to do this sweetie? I would want you to break your back, at least not like this" Sylus 's brow had furrowed and his brown eyes gleaming with worry and mischief while his hands carried two boxes with ease. He didn't even break a sweat.

Your eyes had strayed to his arms peaking from underneath his folded sleeves. And only one word thing crossed your mind- strength.

And that's all you could think of now. Snug in those very same arms. He held you with such tenderness that it shook you. You wanted more. You wanted wanted to be closer to him, even though you was flush against his body. You could feel each cord of muscle running through him, winding around his bones like the roots of an ancient tree. They were warm, they were close but both of them seeked more. While Sylus feared that he might mistakenly hurt you- treating you like a rose made of thin iridecent frost, you wanted nothing more than to let Sylus rip into you chest and take his place beside you beating heart. You could feel his heart mirroring yous -hammering in his chest right beneath you palms. Just a bit more and you could hold it in you hands. A little more and sh-

"Y/N" with the tender call of you name you looked up at him. He was nothing but tender love and adoration at that moment yet when you looked at him, he looked as if he himself would break apart in the way he restrained himself. They were close enough to feel the the other one's breath fan across thier face. Like some heady drug their heads were dazed, nothing but instinct guiding them on.

As his eyes flickered to you lips, you leaned forward capturing his lips with you own. Urging him silently to let go of his restraints and control. To lose himself. And following you command he did. Like a man dying of thirst, he drank down every single bit of you. The desperation in the way he held you was clear as day. From the way he cradled the back of you head to the way he pull you impossibly close by you lower back. Both of them would either be incapable of feeling or lying to themselves if they had not felt how their veins seemed to be carrying molten lava along it. How each of them has no thoughts in their head except for the other. How all they now felt was the spark from eachothers skin. He swallowed each and every sound you had relinquished to him and heeded every tug you gave. They were a formidable clash of tongue and teeth. Fighting- no, dancing in unison.

you had steadied yourself by grasping his arms, your nails digging in to them in the process. But that didn't deter him, instead it ushered him further, just like you intended. You wanted to consume him whole and you intended to let him do the same.

"Sylus " you called out breathlessly, breaking off the kiss which felt nothing short of being electrocuted and drowned at the same time. You peered up at his eyes, dark, unmoving from you own. It felt like that little tint of red he had in his eyes was swallowed up entirely by darkness- by need. He leaned closer again but instead of you lips he set a kiss on you forehead. You whispered a silent prayer to the heavens for you knew you would not survive long if this man were to love you. Though you was athletic, you heart had never beat so fast. It felt as if it would explode to a million pieces Infront of him.

"You terrify me." He whispered his confession breathlessly by pressing his forehead on yous. "I have never felt so much, and yet felt so helpless. You terrify me Y/N . I fear I become nothing short of a beast at your command. You have my heart in one hand and my mind on the other. You have shaken me to my core. And you have made me loose any sense of sanity for all my thoughts are filled with you.... Look what have you done to me" he bought up a shaking hand to you fluyoud cheeks to caress it. "Y/n what have you done to me?" He smiled

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 3: New Faces, New Job, New Everything.

Continuation to the Prolouge, Chapter 1 and 2.

Danny stares at Dante in absolute shock, Red Hood? RED HOOD?? OF ALL PEOPLE. Dante had to meet the rumored and probably the most violent of the Vigilantes. And Red Hood being a literal Crime Lord makes this worse.

"He had a fat ass to be hone-" Dante Blurted with a smirk but Danny cuts him off, "No, No. Shut up. I don't wanna hear your- or my- wait no. YOU'RE gay shenanigans." Danny pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to process the whole story.

"Let me get this.. straight-... You ... Ugh.... Ancients save me. YOU. MET. RED HOOD. AFTER. Beating up... Someone in his HAUNT?? And what do you mean he's a revenant? I thought frostbite said those were the "rare cases" of semi-halfas" Danny tries to clear up all the information in his head through just yelling it out.

"Yep." Dante popping the "P" and does not elaborate on anything else but a simple 'yep'.

"Kill me fully- wait... No. Jazz wouldn't want that." Danny reminded himself and took a deep breathe.

"I am so telling Clockwork." Danny spoke out.

"Oh come on! I'm in physical probation! I defended someone from getting bad things happen to them—" Danny cut him off.

"You can say "Fucked up shit" you know stop physically censoring yourself." Danny just stared at Dante with a judgemental face. Dante gasped dramatically like he's offended by that statement.

"OH WOW. It's not like I'm trying to 'Censor' myself because you're a traumatized 13 year old kid and I'm an adult given the responsibility of YOU cuz I love you like my brother." Dante states emphasizing every word.

"You sound like a drag queen." Danny blurts out

"I look better in pink anyways." Dante smirked smugly and Danny just frowned and sighed as Dante Ruffled his hair Mischievously.

"Don't you have a job interview today?" Danny grabbed his hand and gently places it away from his poor hair.

"I already got hired. They said I fit the job." Dante sounded very proud of himself before Danny blurts out "I think they hired you on the spot because you're Eye Candy."

Dante was stunned and thought about it for a moment.

Hmm.

"Yeah I suppose but that doesn't matter now, I have a normal job and people doesn't seem to be bothered by me at all so it's very good." Danny imagined that if Dante had a tail he'd be wagging it and Danny didn't like that mental image of a fucking CATBOY DAN- "UUUUUGHH! I hate that." He drags his palm on his face dramatically.

"And you Danny. Is coming with me to work. I am not leaving you in the apartment because. I will list it.

1. Someone might break in and you're not safe.

2. You might kill that someone either through ghost or through your tendencies to grab that goddamn creep stick and hit without hesitation.

3. I am not letting you play DOOMED for 7 hours straight, But I will let you play Minecraft.

4. You or well, We. Tend to roam away from home when we are bored, in this case you do. And ding ding ding we're in Gotham.

5. If you ever got into any danger. I would not worry if you're okay. I would worry if you killed someone first.

That's your list."

Dante started Loud and Clear.

"Fine but I get to bring both my phone and headphones with my switch." Danny Complied with a deal making Dante smile triumphantly, "Fine with me Twerp, and you better behave at the cafe." He chuckles and Pats Danny's Head Gently but still mischievously.

Danny also giggled, Danny's chest felt warm. And his core buzzed in familiar happiness as Dante and Danny Pressed their foreheads into each other before Dante pats Danny's shoulder and stands back up with a groan.

"Let's go kid, get ready now." Dante stretched his body and cracks some of his "old bones" as Danny heads to his bedroom and takes his sling bag and puts his 'neccesities' inside with a smile.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tim heard about a new Cafe opening nearby Gotham U, although at first he was suspicious of how so many people are already visiting it and even the lines reach outside. He soon found out why. One of their workers was rumored to be apparently "eye candy" or whatever they called people who are very attractive.

This worker was the main Barista and he apparently makes the drinks Infront of the people and he was good at it.

That got Tim even more curious, How attractive does someone have to be that people of all genders are lining up on a new store as if a celebrity is inside. And so he decided to wait in line like any other student as to not direct any attention to himself because that would be utterly humiliating for him.

He waited.....

And waited....

And kept Waiting and Waiting....

Until finally, what felt like an eternity he finally got to order His Coffee.

It seems the rumors are true, the bartender is indeed attractive. Tim got even more curious about how the big man seemed to have canine sharp teeth, oddly pale complexion that almost looks... Purple? And Lazarus Green Water with Red Rims.

"An Americano with two shots please.." He states to the Cashier, "And name please?" The Cashier asks again.

"Timothy." He calmly tells her as she writes it down to a receipt and hands it to the orders That the "Eye Candy" Man and Another Worker was Making.

Tim sat on a nearby table. It was the only table that happened to be empty. Except a 13 years old kid just sitting there playing... Minecraft? Okay-.

The kid stared at Tim, Tim stares back. 'He looks like adoption Bait.' Tim thinks to himself then suddenly he slowly feels weird, as if he's being judged intensely, Unfortunately and possibly even worse than how Damian judges him.

"You look like an overworked 9-5 office worker that has no paid vacations or time off for a student." the kid suddenly speaks out and it felt as though Tim had just been shot with a non-existent arrow of truth.

"Wha-" Tim tries to ask but the kid interrupts him before he could even start, "you should really get some sleep and maybe lessen your intake of Coffee... Ah right. Name's Danny by the way. Sorry. You just started staring at me so I couldn't help but state my opinion." The kid, or well... Danny said as he went back to playing Minecraft on his switch.

"I- it's... It's fine. I know I need sleep... All college students do- it's normal." Timothy just sighs and nods subtly, knowing full well this random kid is right.

Goddamit, the kid acts like Damian a bit too- and he has the typical black hair blue eyes appearance, possibly an orphan attitude. Tim continues to have a subtle Life Crisis in his head.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

'Such a weird person.' Danny thought to himself and chuckled softly.

He continues to play Minecraft with Tucker and Sam to Pass his time and so he doesn't go all deppreso mid-daylight. The amount of people entering the cafe was still... Concerning at the very least, now that the customers have heard Dante's voice... They started to call him the "Everything in one Package." Which was way worse than "Eye Candy" to be honest.

'Vlad would be confused and shocked.... I wonder how Ellie is doing.. hopefully not too bad....' Danny hums to himself as he made a gravesite ingame for Jazz to remember her by.

It has become tradition for these teens to make jazz a gravesite whenever they start a new world and they always made sure it's beautiful and colorful in a way Jazz would have liked it.

Danny smiled as he finished up the ingame Gravesite.

Although it hurts to see and do this every time, he still loves it because then he has something to remind him of her existence.

Her precious Existence as he likes to call it.

"I miss her so much..." He mutters to himself.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"I'm so... Tired." Dante was plopped onto the couch lazily.

"I am scared to be an adult like you..." Danny just stared at Dante as he Begrudgingly sat back up from the couch to stretch his body and head to the kitchen to cook.

"I met a random older student today, we kinda talked. He called me adoption bait which was funny because technically I am considering V l a d." Danny laughed.

"Adoption Bait my ass, who would want to adopt a little messy homeless looking goblin." Dante just chuckled smugly and Danny Pouts. " I am not a homeless looking kid" he tries to defend himself "that's the thing you're most concerned about in my sentence?" Dante tucked his hair back into a tight Ponytail and let's it flow naturally like fire.

"I know I'm a goblin, it's just how I am." Danny proudly says and pats his chest and puffs it out with pride.

"Ofcourse you do... Ah right. Kiddo I have a surprise for you tomorrow. So make sure to get enough sleep today alright?" Dante kneels down to Danny's Height to speak to him properly.

Danny thinks for a second, "Sure! I like surprises!" Danny giggled nodded profusely in excitement.

"Good." Dante smiled softly, he loves it when Danny is happy. His core loves when Danny is also happy. A happy Danny is a happy Dante.

He wishes this could go on forever. Just Danny smiling and not screaming for his life in his nightmares.

My Arm is cold from writing this <33

Enjoy though.

[librababe99]

The Wolverine's Heart

❥・CW: Old Man Logan, Female Reader, age gap, mentions of violence and past trauma, emotional vulnerability, sexual content, body worship  ❥・Word Count: 1649

Summary: Tonight you wanted to show Logan just how loved and cherished he is....

(Masterlist)

The small cabin, nestled deep within the wilderness, was far removed from the chaos of the world. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the steady rhythm of nature was the only sound that filled the air. The tall pines, their needles whispering secrets to the wind, surrounded the cabin like silent sentinels, guarding its solitude. Inside, the warmth from the crackling fire cast long shadows on the walls, dancing with a life of their own.

Logan sat in his worn leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he absently rolled it between his fingers, his mind a thousand miles away. The years had not been kind to him, and the burden of a life lived too long and too hard weighed heavily on his shoulders. His once rugged, indestructible frame now bore the marks of time—scars that never fully healed, a limp that never quite disappeared, and the ever-present ache in his bones.

But there was one thing that had kept him grounded in the face of it all—you. You had come into his life like a breath of fresh air, a balm for his soul. Despite the years that separated you, despite the scars that marred his body and the ghosts that haunted his past, you had seen something in him worth loving. And that love, gentle yet fierce, had slowly worked its way into the cracks of his heart, filling the empty spaces he thought would remain forever hollow.

You watched him from the doorway, the flickering firelight casting a soft glow on his weathered face. His eyes, though hardened by years of battle, held a depth of emotion that never failed to take your breath away. You had always admired the strength in him, the unyielding determination that kept him going even when the world seemed intent on breaking him. But tonight, as you stood there, you felt an overwhelming need to show him just how much he meant to you, to worship every part of him that he so often dismissed as damaged or broken.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up at you, his expression softening as his gaze met yours. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You crossed the room to where he sat, placing your hand on his shoulder. The heat from his skin seeped into your palm, grounding you in the moment. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a mixture of confusion and hesitation crossing his features. “You don’t have to do that, kid. I’m fine.”

You knelt beside him, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up at him with a determination that matched his own. “I know I don’t have to, Lo. But I want to. You’ve done so much for me, and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me do this.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he gave a slow nod, his rough exterior cracking just enough to let you in.

You rose to your feet and gently took the glass from his hand, setting it on the table beside him. Then, with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, you began to undress him. His flannel shirt, worn and frayed at the edges, slipped from his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, marred with countless scars. Each mark told a story—of battles fought, of losses endured, of a life that had been anything but easy.

Your fingers traced the lines of his scars, your touch light as a feather. “Every one of these is a reminder of how strong you are,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve survived so much…You’ve lived through things that would have broken anyone else. But you’re still here, and I’m so grateful for that.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his breath hitched told you he was listening. You continued to undress him, your movements slow and deliberate, as if each piece of clothing you removed was a layer of armor he no longer needed to carry with you.

When he was finally bare before you, you took a step back to drink in the sight of him. His body, though weathered by time and hardship, was still a masterpiece in your eyes. The strength in his muscles, the resilience in his bones, the raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from him—all of it was beautiful to you.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re beautiful, Logan,” you murmured against his skin. “Every part of you.”

A low rumble resonated deep in his chest, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His touch was firm, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to say that,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “I want you to know how much I love you, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve given me so much, Lo Let me give you something back.”

You began to trail kisses across his chest, your lips worshiping every inch of him. You kissed each scar, each mark, each place where life had tried to break him and failed. And with each kiss, you felt him relax a little more, the tension slowly leaving his body as he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Your hands roamed over his body, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, the rough texture of his skin. You marveled at the way his body responded to your touch, the way his breath hitched when your fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He was a man of few words, but his body spoke volumes, telling you everything you needed to know.

When you reached his abdomen, you paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His stomach, once taut and defined, now bore the softness that came with age. But to you, it was just another part of him to love, another part of him that made him who he was.

You pressed a kiss to his navel, your lips lingering there as you whispered, “You’re perfect to me, Logan. Every part of you is perfect.”

A low growl escaped him, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair. But it wasn’t a sound of anger or frustration—it was a sound of need, of desire, of a man who was slowly allowing himself to be loved in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

You continued your journey downward, your lips and hands worshiping every part of him as if he were something sacred. And to you, he was. He was your protector, your confidant, your lover. He was the man who had seen you at your worst and loved you anyway, the man who had stood by you through everything, even when he had every reason to walk away.

As you reached his thighs, you took a moment to admire the strength in them, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch. You kissed the scars that marred his legs, the ones that told stories of battles fought and won. And then, with a reverence that took your breath away, you moved further, pressing a kiss to the most intimate part of him.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still tangled in your hair as he fought to keep control. But you didn’t want him to hold back—not tonight. Tonight was about him, about showing him just how much he meant to you, about worshiping every part of him until he understood that he was worthy of love, that he was worthy of your love.

You took him into your mouth with a tenderness that belied the fire burning within you, your tongue tracing the contours of him. His taste was heady, intoxicating, and you reveled in the sounds he made as you pleasured him. The low growls, the sharp intakes of breath, the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch—it was all a symphony to you, a symphony that played just for you.

You took your time, savoring each moment, each sensation. You could feel him trembling beneath you, could feel the way he was slowly losing the battle for control. But that was what you wanted. You wanted him to let go, to give in to the pleasure, to allow himself to be loved in the way he deserved.

And when he finally did, when he finally let go and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came undone in your hands, his body shuddering with the force of his release, and you held him through it all, your touch gentle and loving as you brought him back down to earth.

When it was over, when the last tremors had subsided, you pulled him into your arms, holding him close as you whispered words of love and reassurance into his ear. He clung to you, his body still trembling slightly, and you could feel the way his heart pounded against his ribcage, could feel the way his breath came in shallow gasps.

But more than that, you could feel the way he had finally let down his walls, the way he had finally allowed himself to be loved without reservation, without fear. And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed! While this is technically a standalone fic, I do have a 2.7K story thats completely done (its smut 🤭 and definitely dives into some new territory for me compared to other work I've posted) so you could look at it as a continuation of this little "universe." I'm curious if y'all would want that later tonight or maybe tomorrow? I don't want to release anything to quickly😭 - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

[mellywritesstuff]

hey melly!! hope you’re doing well, can I request the male harbingers (expect that one dude 😭 and seperate) w a really weak reader (like she can’t fight for shi..) and they are always worried about her and are quite protective ..

hope this is ok .. feel free not to do this request if you’re uncomfortable!!

~mari :)

(Male) Fatui Harbingers x (weak)Fem!reader

—————————

Character(s): Pantalone, Dottore, Tartaglia/Childe, Scaramouche

A/N: didn’t know if you wanted scara or not so I included him anyway! I haven’t written in awhile, note to however has sent a request: I’m so SRRY I’ve haven’t written them yet they’re all in my drafts just been busy!!

Warnings: not proofread, 1 suggestive section, Cussing.

Genre(s): crack, fluff

—————————

Pantalone

Questions life decisions. He’s constantly stressed whenever you step outside (grass is overrated) insists on going with you everywhere. For protection.

If you won’t let him go with you he’ll either force you to take a fatui agent (as a bodyguard) or just suffer in silence while you’re gone.

He’s constantly worried.

“What if she comes back hurt?”

“What if she gets kidnapped?”

Wishes he could just lock you in his basement

He worries even more since he’s a fatui harbinger. People are out to get him, and especially you. Would NEVER let you near his fellow harbingers (Dottore) for fear that they might take advantage of your weakness and snap you in half.

And they’re hot

Starts to panics when he can’t find you when in reality you’ve been 2 ft away from him, hiding. To mess with him.

He loves you and all, but can you do anything else but to put yourself in danger? Please? (He’s so tired)

Dottore

For the love of god, stop moving, just stay with him in his lab, it only slightly reeks of death and chemicals.

An average day will just go by like:

“Dottore! Dottore! Look what I found”

“What the? Y/N put that down! It’s dangerous (it’s a rock)”

So once he dodges your rock, and you disappear he starts to panic.

“What the? Where’d you go?”

He’ll start frantically searching for you, you were right behind him.

EXTREMELY protective of you. Won’t hesitate to add another skeleton to his collection to anyone he deems a threat.

Luckily he’ll (force) a fatui agent to go with you everywhere. Or he’ll spy on you from a bush because he trusts no one, and really loves you.

Why would you want to go outside anyway? Wouldn’t you rather get railed by Dottore?

Tar-tar-Tartaglia

Literally goes “L bozo” and tackles you.

In all seriousness he’ll teach to fight if you want! Probably not a good idea since he’ll forget your fighting skills are the equivalent of a sheet of paper, then break every bone in your body

He trusts you enough. But since he’s constantly away on missions he worries you’ll get hurt and can’t stand to be away from you.

Will purposefully challenge you to arm wrestle just to throw you off the table.

Sees you as a tiny little duck, and protects you at all costs while simultaneously bullying you.

Will go, “hey wanna go Inazuma with me? Oh wait you can’t fight….later bozo” (he’s so mean)

One day you’ll beat his ass up for all that teasing.

Scaramouche

Another one that goes ‘L bozo’ in you form of “Skill issue”

Constantly on your back for getting yourself in dangerous situations when you follow him around.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Don’t do anything stupid…”

You’ve heard it too much, he may be a little emo boy but he just wants to keep you safe.

Wishes he could go everywhere with you, in a panicked state when you’re god (he doesn’t show it though)

Won’t teach you to fight, thinks you’re an unworthy opponent (ouch)

Sometimes he wants to cuddle and protect you and sometimes he wants to throw you off a cliff in frustration.

—————————

Hope you enjoyed! Melly out <3

[cosmic-phantom-cafe]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Yandere pairings

╰┈➤ General HC of yandere pairs that rated if they work or not. TW: Yandere content!!, some implied NSFW and also THIS IS FROM MY OLD BLOG I DID NOT COPY FROM ANYONE IF ANYTHING I SCOOBY-DOO MYSELF THIS IS FROM MY OLD BLOG I HAVE THE DRAFT IN MY DOC TO PROVE IT ( also a lot of bad grammar!! English is my first language but my ass function on two-braincells or less)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ that would work ࿐ྂ

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ayato and Thoma

Compatibility: 9/10

The way you could look at this is good cop and bad cop, except you get bad cop first in the sense that Ayato will trap you into this arrangement, oh he's still nice but the sadism hidden beneath his smile will make itself known, and Thoma is the good cop, as in super nice and soft yandere who gives you closure. There is a big difference on how they handle you in your daily needs; as that's very important to them. We already know Thoma is very skilled in making meals, chores, anything of sort is taken care of by him. While Ayato makes sure to take care of any financial needs and trouble that follows you. With these generous acts, they lure you to only spend time with them unless Ayato has to do something, which then leads to you being under Thoma's care until he's done.

Now the true nature of Ayato as a bad cop shows up when you "act stupid" as he puts its, leaving the Kamisato estate and the eyes he put to follow you is barely a slim chance while escaping Inazuma? Impossible. As the commissioner Ayato doesn't hesitate to make sure that nobody is out there to help you with such plans, you're never leaving. Ayato is always smiling, but his condescending look and mocking smile makes you shrink in size when he's in a bad mood like this. Don't even think you can look at Thoma for help or ask him. His heart does hurt for you, truly it does, but his loyalty to the Kamisato clan is far greater, especially considering this is the safest way to keep you with him. There's a high chance he tells Ayato everything you say, including escape plans or anything that might raise concerns even if it leads to harsh punishments. So it's best to make due with what you can and smile with it.

The moment you step foot in Inazuma and catch Ayato's attention, his reputation as head of the Kamisato clan and of the Yashiro commission will put you in the spotlight. Your every word, move and even breathing will be monitored by everyone, friends or enemies of Ayato; it doesn't matter. Being his partner will make it so even walking down the streets you'll end up hearing whispers, being stared at by everyone. The pressure paired together with the fact you don't want to be in a relationship such as this will feel as if you're being crushed, but don't worry, Ayato and Thoma were only doing this because they wanted to show how terrible the outside world is, only a few public apperances at a distance are fine, from now on you prefer to be locked inside the Kamisato Residence right?

Who leads the punishments? Ayato of course. Dear archons Thoma doesn't have a mean bone in his body to ever think you did anything wrong, but Ayato is very different. You're his partner, and you'll, of course, be his spouse in the future, so he must make sure you know everything beforehand. There are certain lines you can cross and many more that you can't, especially concerning the people you choose to interact with. Remember, he can easily tell if you're faking your love for him. He has strict rules and you must follow them all, you'll end up in tears and bruises by the time he's done but luckily Thoma is there. He'll patch up any cuts and bruises, kissing away the tears, and gently hug you while explaining that Ayato is just looking out for you and wants what's best. Ayato might break you if he has to but Thoma is always there to pick up the pieces and soothe the pain away, after all that's what he loves doing best; taking care of you.

In the end you might end up living a very lavish and easy life if you follow Ayato's rules, you have nothing to really work for and nothing to do all day. You can have certain hobbies that Ayato approves of but at the end of it you'll practically be a pretty doll in the Kamisato estate. Ayato is a huge part of this power imbalance but Thoma's softness for you may help you through a lot of days if you behave well, he'll even try to lighten your punishments if he thinks of them as too much.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wrio and Neuv

compatibility: 8/10

Since both yanderes have similar senses of mental and emotional skills level-wise they would have good communication in handling the idea of sharing you and making a proper schedule in doing so. They're both very busy and it ended up with you being locked in the Palais Mermonia in the Court of Fontaine for one month, mostly in Neuvillette's office or having a separate room right next door, while the other month you're in the Fortress of Meropide with Wriothesley, and it continues on repeat. Considering they're both very busy people, as the Iudex and Duke, so communication between them concerning you is done through letters or annual reports, In most cases when they do meet face to face it is to deliver you to the other when it their monthly turn.

Escape is not an option. Being shared by the chief of justice and duke of the fortress does not allow room for privacy or any sort of escape route. Not only are you under constant watch by the gards in both settings but by the yanderes themselves, whether be it Neuvillette's dragon-like powers or the cameras around the fortress. But even then you being out and about is rare as is as usually, you're with them in their office, Neuvillette may not be the first to incline a form of physical intimacy like having you on his lap during work but you will be seated on the couch or close by where he could see you, but with Wrio you will have to be straddled on his lap if he has a big amount of paperwork to go through. Both have similar ways of handling you so you never feel out of place despite the sudden change of what you see for the rest of the month.

In any case, considering their reputations you would have to be a special a special kind of stupid to even try going against the duke, referred to as his grace by all criminals residing in there because the only law in the fortress is his mere word, with enough experience as a boxer and a prison warden as well, let alone the literal Dragon Sovereign of Water with legit political power and such a great reputation that one word from him and you'd be shunned. The power imbalance is far too great to the point you're shaken, factor in anything but everything is stacked against you. But no worries because they're not cruel enough to torture you, only a few punishment will make you understand how you should behave!

Cutting straight to the facts, Wrio will always be the one who punishes you. Not saying Neuv is a saint, considering his power he can do a lot but between the two of them, Neuvillette is a lot more patient and lacks certain knowledge of how specifically you should or should not behave. Wrio does find certain bratty behaviors amusing but he runs quite a few strict rules which you should obey, whether you're in the Fortress or with Neuvillette, and if you cross them he might break this one month only agreement for a visit to make sure you know where you should stand

Overall this pair is not bad, if you behave you'll find life rather easy. Power imbalance is a matter where you should watch what you say and do but these two individuals only want you to love them, as your behavior towards others should only be nonchalant. Besides Neuvillette being patient and Wriothesley content with the arrangement, you can only hope you remain human. ⇢ ˗ˏˋ absolutely not ࿐ྂ **˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥** Kaeya and Diluc 

Compatibility: 6/10

..first of all what makes you think siblings share things-

Their pettiness knows no bounds, ever since the reveal they both loved you Diluc is in a constant state of irritation because of Kaeya and Kaeya, while ignoring Diluc, acts like himself, if not for the rare moments of throwing snide remarks. We all know Diluc's strong opinions about how useless the knights of Favonius are, to him Kaeya has no right to protect you or even TRY to, because he'd fail. Kaeya has the poker face that any spy would be proud of, but when told to his face by Diluc that he can't properly keep you safe his mood would sour instantly. Kaeya knows his behavior towards you exceeds normal feelings but at least he MEETS UP with you and TALKS, he definitely brought up that Diluc being a stalker was way creepier, he can't keep hiding behind the “knight in shining Armour” title

But, while Diluc's pettiness is reserved for them two only, Kaeya openly expresses it to you instead. He's proud of the fact he is able to build a proper relationship with you, and he will use it to his advantage; subtly hinting how Diluc is no fun, how he can get VERY dangerous when he snaps. He'd poke fun at Diluc's preference for grape juice, calling it unromantic, if Diluc is around he's more touchy, giving long and tight hugs whenever he drops you at his brother's place. Seriously, Kaeya was planning to be nice and peaceful but Diluc pushed first and decided “Nooooo, lemme bitch about it and continue being on bad terms”. As if Kaeya would take that when it came to you.

Now while Diluc might have the biggest resting bitch face that Celestia needs to award, he's soft for you. He'd like to spoil you, be sweet, protect you. But unfortunately for him he has to save those moments when it's just you two, and it's difficult when Kaeya is there always annoying him and making him lose his temper. But he gets his revenge, sprinkling some elemental fertilizers around Mondstad's gates for the knights to have something to busy themselves with, and drown Kaeya in paperwork so he can't meet with you. He's slacked off enough and Jean isn't too appreciative of it. You'll end up seeing Diluc chuckling and even smiling to himself, explaining how business is going very smoothly.

While they had a rough past and end up in each other's nerves a lot, Diluc and Kaeya still consider themselves brothers deep down. It's better if they remain passive aggressive while having more eyes on you than just arguing and killing each other. It would be awful if Kaeya had to lose the other charming part of his face, and Diluc would rather die than have your pretty eyes see him in a different light.

**˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥** Wrio and Lyney 

Compatibility: 1/10 Everything is not about you but at the same time it is, This pair is very very subtle about anything related to you but they're also at each other's throats verbally. They have no problem throwing hands behind your back but when you turn to look they act as if nothing happened; oh the wall looks nice, lemme count my cards again. In the past they MIGHT have come to an agreement but with what happened when Lyney and his siblinge investigated the Fortress, never. Wrio tried once, Lyney gave him a death stare and snark, and Wrio didn't bother trying again. Because of what happened Lyney considers Wrio too dangerous, it gets under his skin and he tries to make his visits in the Fortress more frequent to make sure you’re fine but it's always for a limited time because of Wrio. Whenever they meet up so you can be given to the other, rest assured that Lyney drops his smiling facade for a moment to throw at least one snide and irritated remarke at Wrio; who usually returns it. You're asked a hundred questions when you get at his place.

Questions are a LOT and they must be in detail- otherwise Lyney will assume you've been drugged to not remember anything. They range from how you're treated at the fortress, not just by the duke but by everyone, to what you ate, your activities- he even does full inspections to make sure not even a strand from your hair is missing. Now, Lyney is slightly impulsive and there were a lot of times when he asked those questions right in front of Wrio’s face, and of course Wriothesley answered those questions for you, saying there's no need for all this inspection which earned him an annoyed glare, a snap from Lyney to “Stay out of it, I'm checking up on my dove”. Even after taking you out Lyney just can't HELP but worry, you're finally getting some sun and good food, it must be so cramped in the fortress, are you SURE Wrio didn't do anything? Please answer honestly, Lyney will make sure to talk to him. Once you're back, Wrio isn't short of questions either. It's a dangerous world out there and Lyney is in THE dangerous organization of Teyvat, the magician didn’t take you anywhere near the fatui right? Even if you answered all the questions perfectly, after you're escorted back to your room, an argument immediately heats up between the two of them. They're at each other's throats, spewing threats of violence and might even get physical if something actually DID happen to you. This pair can’t even be considered a shared pair in all honestly, it's more like trying to verbally tug you closer to themselves completely, mostly because they don't wish to hurt you but their hatred for each other is too much. Lyney would always talk to you about it, saying that if you were just his you wouldn't have to live in suchca deadman land full of criminals. With him your whole life would be nothing but filled with fun tricks, magic and shows, full of color (and illusions). You'd be safe with his siblings and father would also protect you. Lyney always nitpicks when Wrio punishes you, sighing saying he'd never do something so crude when teaching you manners. Every day of your life would be like a dream, you'd be too happy to be upset, he loves you too much to punish you, it would be different if you were his… Just his. Wrio never expresses it verbally but he clearly minds it when Lyney gets like this. It's annoying and irritsting seeing he has to share you with such a delusional person who can't comprehend that the outside world is too dangerous. He could give an entire monologue of why you'd be much safer in the fortress, away from prying eyes and tainted hands of the filthy creatures that want to snatch you away. But he keeps to himself and drinks his tea, listening to Lyney's rambles gets so annoying, he’s glad you have him to properly care for you rather than you just being under the magician's watch. One thing is that they try to keep their issues between them, not wanting to put you in the middle of their crossfire. But with time patients are lost and the first to snap would be Lyney, he may lose his cool and try to deal with Wrio and dispose of him in some way, but Wrio always has backup plans, he'd hate to leave you alone under this reckless person. This pair is very messy but they always keep that mess away from your eyes. 

[spacerockfloater]

Me watching Feyre convince herself that Tamlin is a disgusting monster who only used her to get his power back and then stopped caring for her the moment she became his because he was some selfish lunatic who wanted to keep her as his useless plaything the more time she spends with Rhysand and his Inner Court:

Tamlin. The guy who helped her family even if he only needed Feyre. The guy who had to watch the love of his life die screaming in pain as Amarantha broke every bone in her body. The guy who crawled in front of Amarantha and begged her to spare her while his own blood drowned him. The guy who slept at Feyre’s feet each night out of paranoia that something would happen to her, not him. The guy who let Feyre roam his court and help whomever she wants until she found out that these people had their own healing to do and the help they actually needed, looking up to someone, was not something she wanted to offer. The guy who had to watch her reject him publicly by hesitating at the altar and never even mentioned it because he didn’t want to embarrass or upset her. The guy who had to watch her get abducted every month by his nemesis, a known sadist. The guy who waited and gave her space. The guy who was searching for a way to break the bond all of these months even though she furiously blamed him that he was not doing enough to cancel her bargain with Rhys, a bargain she willingly made and was responsible for. The guy who was willing to let her go even if it meant condemning an entire world. The guy who launched himself at Hybern to save her sisters.

And he’s crazy because he wanted to keep her safe in their fucking palace for one evening?

Reading Feyre’s narrative after she started hanging out with the people of the Night Court made my skin crawl. I kept gripping the book furiously and mentally telling her “Wait, that’s not what fucking happened” every time she spoke about Tamlin. It was horrifying because this is exactly what I always imagined people who abandon you do: leave you and then tell people their own, made up version of events.

Watching her stop speaking about him with love and slowly paint him as her tormentor was like watching a train wreck you couldn’t prevent:

- I love Tamlin and he loves me and we have sacrificed so much for one another.

- I love Tamlin and both of us are dealing with a lot right now, but we’re trying and we’ll make it.

- Tamlin loved me and he made some wrong decisions but I still feel like I’m cheating on him.

- Tamlin’s actions were wrong and I hope we’ll sort things out once we all calm down.

- Tamlin gave me everything but he still made some wrong decisions.

- Tamlin really cared for me but I don’t need what he has to offer me anymore.

- Tamlin was right about my safety after all but I have decided I don’t care and don’t forgive him.

- Tamlin only wanted me because I was useful and then stopped caring for me.

- Tamlin is a selfish prick who used me and then tossed me aside and wanted me to be his stupid ignorant pet and he didn’t give a fuck about me and I hate him and want him to die.

Feyre. Feyre. FEYRE. Wake up. None of this is true. You’re spiralling and you’re blaming him for every little thing he ever did that slightly inconvenienced you while you forgive and justify each and every one of Rhysand’s horrendous crimes against you, all of his countless lies, all of his manipulation.

I think she just never loved Tamlin and that’s why it was easier to hate him.

[signanothername]

Hello! What would horror’s reaction be to uncorrupted nightmare?

Somewhere between “oh how I’d love to chop your head off” and “should I prioritize my AU over my own desire for revenge?”

He’d be the balance between Killer and Murder. Killer is docile, Murder is hostile

Not that Horror wouldn’t love an opportunity to break every bone in Nightmare’s body, but once Nightmare isn’t as powerful to keep him under control, he’d be a bit hesitant to attack Nightmare cause he’d be thinking about where to go from there when it comes to his AU, how would he provide food for his AU now that he’s free? Should he worry about his AU first or Nightmare first?

But I mean, Horror wouldn’t really and truly stop himself from indulging in his desires at the end of the day >:)

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Learning Curves 2 Prequel (M)

★ PAIRING: Mark x Reader ☆ WORD COUNT: 1.9k ★ GENRE(S): Smut, FWB ☆ SUMMARY: After rekindling a friendship during Jisung's family vacation, you can't shake the tension that's been building between you and Mark. Finally, you reach your breaking point. ★☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, cunnilingus, slightly rough sex?? MDNI ☆★ NOTES: This takes place a little before part 2. Can be read as a stand alone. Enjoy this while we wait for Part 2 to drop on 2/28!!!

Mark had invited you out again, and things had been going relatively well since Jisung's family vacation. You two had been spending almost every day together.

Today Mark had taken you to the record store that he loved. He showed you his favorite albums and you geeked out over music together. You loved listening to him talk, he always looked so animated as he talked about the things that he loved.

 He bought you a vinyl and when you got back to his place he played it for you. It was a sensual R&B pick that you had been dying to get your hands on. 

Unaware of the sultry atmosphere the song had created, you were sitting on Mark's couch, humming and quietly singing along. The tension in the air was already thick, and the music wasn't helping. Mark listened and watched you, something heavy behind his gaze.

“What do you think?” you ask him.

"I love her voice," he said, his tone so pointed that you almost thought he was talking about you.

Things weren't awkward anymore, but the situation was still excruciating. You'd agreed to keep things casual, yet it was clear he wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and you would let him. His hands wandered sometimes, innocently gliding up your inner thigh when you were in the passenger seat of his car, or trailing down your lower back when he pulled you into a hug. Last time, during movie night, you were on his couch, and you could feel how hard he was pressed against your thigh as you cuddled. It felt as if he were testing your will each time, and each time you were close to snapping.

He was alluring, like a magnet, and you couldn't help but be drawn in. He was already sitting too close on the couch, his knee knocking against yours. There was plenty of space for him to move, but he sat suffocatingly close.

“She's really good isn't she,” you stutter under his intense gaze. 

He licks his lips. “I think you would sound sweeter,” his voice drops into a whisper.

Something snaps. He had wound you up too tight and you broke. You lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss. The moment your lips met Mark’s, it was like everything in your world started to align. The music suddenly felt louder, the bass thrumming in your chest, the melody seeping into your bones making you feel sexy and daring. 

His lips were soft and he deepened the kiss as he reciprocated without hesitation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while the other rested firmly on your thigh, his fingers digging in slightly like he was afraid you’d pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when the tension that had been simmering between you for days— no, weeks. His tongue brushed against yours, and a low groan escaped his throat, sending a shiver down your spine. This was it. The moment you’d both been circling around, pretending it didn’t exist, pretending you could keep things casual. But there was nothing casual about the way his hands roamed your body or the way he kissed you like he was starving.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough, almost a growl. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as he shifted you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. you could feel how undeniably hard he was pressed against you. His hips rolled up instinctively, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan.

“Mark…” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were warning him or begging him to keep going.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, fingers splayed across your bare back. His hands slid up, pulling you even closer so your chest was flush against his. His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing occasionally, making you squirm in his lap. 

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured against your neck, his breath hot and uneven. “Every time I look at you… I can’t fucking think straight.”

His words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up to kiss you again. This time, it was hungrier, more desperate. His fingers grab the hem of your shirt, pushing it up until you break the kiss long enough to pull it off completely. His eyes darkened as he took you in. He was barely holding himself together. 

His hands moved to the button of your jeans, and he paused, his eyes locking with yours. “Tell me you want this.” He practically begged.

“I want this,” you breathed, not even hesitating. “I want you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. In one swift motion, he unbuttoned your jeans and helped you out of them before tossing them aside. His hands returned to your thighs, squeezing as he pressed another searing kiss to your lips. It's like he was slowly breaking as more time passed, his hands couldn't stay in one place, he couldn't keep his lips off of you and his hips kept bucking up involuntarily. His own shirt followed soon after, discarded carelessly on the floor, and you ran your hands over his chest.

He shifted slightly, lifting you off his lap just long enough to reposition you on the couch, your back against the cushions as he hovered over you. His hands trailed down your body until his fingers finally slipped under the edge of your underwear, you gasped. Your back arches off the cushions.

“So fucking responsive,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. He swallows your moan as his fingers teased you, slowly at first, then with more urgency. His thumb circled your clit and you grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

“Mark, please…” you whimpered, your voice breaking. You were so damn close, but he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice firm. His lips trail down over your breasts, your stomach, and then lower and lower until he was kneeling between your legs. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down, tossing them aside with the rest of your clothes.

He leaned in, his tongue sliding against you in one long, deliberate stroke. You cried out, your hands fisting in his hair as he worked you with his mouth, licking and sucking until you were writhing beneath him.

“Mark, I can’t—I’m going to—” you gasped, your thighs trembling as the pressure built again, stronger this time. He didn’t stop, his fingers joining his tongue, and when you finally came apart, it was with his name on your lips.

He didn’t give you time to recover. As soon as you came down, he was on you again, his hands sliding under your hips and pulling you down towards him to position himself between your legs. 

“Promise you won’t ghost me after this?” he whispered against your lips.  

Mark's words hung in the air, thick and heavy, as his body pressed into yours, the unspoken tension finally reaching its breaking point. Since the vacation, you had settled things between you two, but it seemed like he was still a little sore from you going silent on him. His lips hovered just above yours and you could see the hurt in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I won’t, I promise.” In one swift motion, he pinned you against the couch, his hands gripping your wrists and holding them above your head.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “Every fucking day, I’ve wanted you like this.” His teeth grazed your collarbone, and you moaned, your hips lifting to grind against him and his length glided through your folds easily, but he didn't slip inside. He smirked against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you in place as his lips moved lower.

“Mark,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth closed over your nipple, sucking hard. You arched into him, the sensation sending sparks shooting through your body. He groaned, his hands sliding under your thighs, spreading them wider.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers sliding through your folds, teasing your entrance. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, he was torturing you, you needed him inside of you, you had waited too long. “I want to hear you beg.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. “Please, Mark,” you begged, your voice a desperate whine. “I need you. Please, fuck me.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Good girl,” he purred and lined himself up with your entrance. You held your breath, your body trembling with anticipation, and then he was pushing into you, slow and deliberate, until he was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you as he began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. He set a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that had you seeing stars. Your hands tangled in his hair as he continued to thrust into you. 

“I’m going to make you cum so hard,” he murmured, his breathing ragged. “You’re going to scream for me, yea?”

You nodded, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he fucked you harder, faster, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel it building, the pressure coiling tight in your stomach, and then it was snapping, your body convulsing around him. A hoarse scream rips from your throat.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” His hands hold you in place as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he came with a low, guttural groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies pressed together as you both caught your breath. Then, slowly, Mark pulled out of you, his hands gently caressing your skin as he leaned back, his eyes meeting yours. There was a softness in his gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.

“That was…” you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to find the words.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin. “We should probably talk about this.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. “I think we should just keep this… casual,” you said, your voice hesitant. “I mean, we’re both adults, and it’s not like we’re looking for anything serious, right?”

Mark nodded while scratching the back of his neck, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Casual works for me,” he said, voice soft. “I kinda just got out of a relationship, and I’m not really ready to jump into anything serious. But this… this is good.”

You smiled, relief flooding through you as you leaned back against the couch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. “Friends with benefits?” you ask.

Mark chuckled, his hand reaching out to take yours, his fingers intertwined with yours. “Friends with benefits,” he agreed.

[sixxteenbullets]

HIDDEN AWAY-

Saw smth the other day and I can't stop thinking about it.

Pairing: Henry Bowers x fem!innocent!reader

Warnings: u and Henry getting walked in on by Patrick, being watched doin yk, swearing, sexual themes.

______

HENRY Bowers had a girl that was the opposite of him. She was a kind, sweet soul and he wanted to keep her that way. He knew exactly who he was and who his friends were, so to keep up with his goal, he needed her to stay away from his friends. The issue sounded easy to defeat, if his friends were normal.

Two boys, Belch and Vic, he trusted enough to stay away from her. After all, they weren't really ever interested in defying Henry. Though, Patrick was a piece of work. As much as he loved innocence, he loved pushing limits. He was tall, obsessed with pyro, and a sadist to the bone. That was exactly the kind of person Henry needed his girl to stay away from. Someone who could tear away her joy, make her sad and scared, and strip her of her kindness, turning her timid and quiet. He'd seen her that way once, during a bad fight, and he swore to keep her from those feelings for as long as he could. Only he could break her down.

"Hey Hen," Y/n smiled at him, her white teeth shining as bright as ever. "You called."

"Old man ain't gonna be home tonight," He pushed himself off of his bed and sauntered over to her. "Was thinking you could stay?"

She didn't have an ideal home life, either. She wasn't beat, like Henry, and she still had both of her parents, but they were mean. Driven by religion, the girl didn't get to choose her own path very often, and a lot of her decisions were made for her. That was part of why she kept her innocence. There was nothing she could do to break it.

"Yeah, totally." She walked closer to him, meeting him in the middle of his room, and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms looked around her waist and they were pulled flush against each other. As their lips met, a bubbly giggle escaped her throat and she smiled against his mouth. His face remained straight, but the sound of her giddiness woke such a fierce happiness within him, it was hard to keep from giggling back at her.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" A mere whisper, barely audible. His eyes widened slightly as they met the ones that stared up at him. She never spoke like this. It was just a simple question, but there was a passion behind her words that she never had before. They had been dating for a month, and she typically pushed away his sexual advances, so when she made her own, he knew this was not something to pass up.

His hands ever so slightly lowered on her waist, resting on the peak of her butt. When she put up no objections, they lowered and he gave a small squeeze, which triggered another giggle. Just as he was about to say something suggestive, her lips crashed into his open mouth, and their tongues danced in harmony for a minute before he pulled away for a breath.

Her head leaned up to follow him, objecting to the end of their kiss, but she soon realized her own lack of breath. "What are you doing?"

"I want you." There was absolutely no sign of hesitation in her voice. Every bit of every word dripped with a lust that sounded foreign on her tongue. "Every inch."

He had heard enough. He had been waiting for over a month to hear her ask for him. To finally give herself to him.

Every fiber of his being itched to go fast, to shove her onto his bed and hear her screams as she cried his name. To hear the innocence dissolve from her voice, and only a sinful, whimpering cry would be left. But he didn't think she would like that just yet, so he willed his body to go slow, to pace himself and be gentle as he stole something sacred from her.

"I want you to be rough. Show me every side of you tonight. The good the bad and the parts you never let anyone see. You can have my body if I can have your soul." She always did that. Talk in poetic speeches, using grammer he's completely stranger to. And he loved it just as much as he loved seeing the passion in her eyes as every word spoke it's truth.

They were on the bed in no time, and her request rang through his ears. She wanted everything. And he would give her his life if he could.

Two shirts were thrown on the floor, one pair of pants, and one pair of shorts. Two half naked bodies desperately grinded into each other, craving release from the heat in their cores. Legs intertwined just as fingers did and the two eventually became one. One drawn out moan, one long kiss, one burning desire.

There was something artistic about the way two humans behaved in times of desperation. The way she would whimper and gasp when a particularly sensitive part of her body was touched, and he would see this and use it to his advantage. The way his mouth would open in a silent moan as she rubbed against him, creating a friction they'd never get enough of. Even with underwear on, they behaved wildly, leaving no room for any matter to interfere.

Somewhere in their passion, a door, forgotten to be locked, creaked open to reveal a few rather shocked faces. Not shocked to see their friend with a girl, but shocked to see him with a girl such as Y/n. Especially shocked that a girl like her didn't wear little pink cotton panties, but adorned a black lace thong instead.

The bigger male and the blond turned away, obviously not wanting to get their asses beat for the intrusion. But Patrick stayed for a minute. His eyes traced every inch of her body, and once he had seen enough, a low whistle escaped him.

The two on the bed jumped, and just as quickly as she threw herself down, he had an arm around her and held her close. She stayed pressed against her boyfriend, trying to hide her flushed face and body from the mischievous boy who stood watching her.

"When your done having your fun, why don't ya' let me take her for a ride?" A sickening laugh faded into a room with three emotions only. Arousal, fear, and pure fucking rage. That arousal faded from Patrick when he saw the expression that adorned his friend's face.

"Get the fuck out of here, Hockstetter, or I'll kill you right here." There was a malice in Henry's voice that he'd never heard before. A spark in his eye, a snarl in his lip, and a clenched fist that showed truth in every word he spoke.

If Patrick didn't stop staring at Henry's girl, he would be a dead man and a tortured soul.

So he ducked out of the room and approached the two other members of their gang, shaken and annoyed, completely unwilling to tell the story of the scariest moment of his life.

Henry considered chasing after his friend, showing him how absolutely enraged he felt that his angel felt unsafe. But once he thought back to her, and felt her shivering from his arms, she was his main priority. He pulled her flush against him, not sexually anymore, just possessively. His arms encircled her and she wanted to completely fade into him.

Sobs racked her body. She'd heard horror stories of the boy and his disgusting acts on not only girls, but just others in general. So, when he said he wanted to take her for a ride, terror crept throughout every crevice of her body. Not only did she fear him, but she was absolutely humiliated. Another boy has seen her half naked, not to mention the vulnerable situation she was in.

After a second of silence, she was able to make out a few muffle words against his chest. "Please don't let him take me."

"No one will ever touch you. You're mine, and he knows that now. I'm gonna keep you hidden away from all that shit."