#needed to find the right words to convey of much it means and touched me

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

ft. gn!reader x anton ivanov, ben bigger, lighter, von lycaon, wise ; no applicable warnings! my first request (i tried to finish it before christmas in my timezone, but still, merry christmas to the anon who requested this :DD and to those reading!!) hehehhe i hope its good enough｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anton ivanov

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me this man isn’t the type to yell “this is for you!” or “if i hit this you give me a kiss” and completely miss whatever target he’s supposed to hit. he hits it. sometimes. he still gets a kiss anyways.

[“dude” “we’re literally dating and you’ve placed your lips on mine do NOT call me dude.” “…babe”]

big on gift giving and words of affirmation in terms of love languages. he makes sure to put a lot of thought into whatever he gives to you to properly convey his appreciation and show just how much you mean to him.

"strong, sincere, and straightforward." he's definitely the type to encourage you to try new things especially when you're the type to get easily nervous. if you're scared of looking stupid, don't worry; he'll do it with you hand-in-hand so you can be stupid together. becomes your no. 1 hype man and would give you his honest opinions whenever you need ‘em.

you see or hear him talking to his jackhammer bro for the most mundane or random things and you've become used to it at this point. its honestly endearing (you're hopeless)

["bro do you think they'd still love me if i was a worm?" "vroom vroom vroom" “you think so?” “vroom” "yeah, you're right."]

ben bigger

scary bear privileges meaning no one wants to mess with you knowing that you're dating someone who cuts such an intimidating presence but you know better than them because ben would much rather use his paws to tap away at a calculator or spreadsheet than willingly get into fights.

on that note, he's most likely to be the best companion for grocery shopping; he'll know how to get all the good discounts and haggle for the best prices for sure.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 1. although he puts his fur care second, it's still soft and fuzzy to the touch and he likes that you appreciate the warmth it provides too.

since he struggles with some of his accounting responsibilities due to the size of his paws, sometimes you help him with sorting some of belobog industries' financial documents and eventually you end up finding the task quite relaxing after a while of doing it.

but, of course, he loves spending time with you outside of work. anything to take his mind off of the horrors of accounting. he'll mentally file away anything he learns about you when you're together for future purposes, may it be gift or date ideas.

he's the bear thiren between both of you, but in private he loves cuddling against you like you're some sort of plush toy. you don't mind. another win-win situation because you get to rest against him like a giant pillow as well.

lighter

he tries to be flirty with you and sometimes it works! but when you match his energy and it backfires on him he turns into a blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do with himself.

also the type to want to show off or act all suave. he has an image to keep as the undefeated champion! the red scarf! (he’s internally giggling and kicking his feet from one [1] cheek kiss you left in passing).

date nights with him sometimes consist of drives on his bike and stargazing at a nice little spot he found in blazewood. then halfway through, he’d get distracted from seeing the stars in your eyes and think that its a hundred times better than the real thing and fall in love all over again.

“gets as many challenges as love letters” but he makes sure that you and anyone who tries to make a move know that he only has eyes for you. could be in the form of having an arm around your waist or his jacket on you when you feel cold.

a physical touch and acts of service guy because. well. he did say he’d like to die for love one day. that’s a very romantic thing to say and do. also his heart still races whenever you hold his hand but he swears he’s getting used to it (he isn’t). probably melts when you gently run your fingers over his face or any of his scars

i honestly feel like he's one of those "me and my bae don't argue they just tell me to shut up and i do" types.

von lycaon

an ideal date for him would be a fancy dinner or picnic somewhere nice and discreet. complete with scented candles, your favorite flowers, and homecooked food (which probably tastes better than anything you've ever eaten at any restaurant). then at some point when both of you have finished eating and you're both in conversation, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss on your knuckles.

["darling, your face is...concerningly red. are you feeling alright?" "i'm fine. i think."]

you WILL be receiving that prince/princess treatment (threat). breakfast in bed when he isn’t busy, spontaneous massages offered when you mention ONCE that you feel tired, and all that jazz. you probably will never have to open another door yourself with him around and he ALWAYS offers his arm for you to take when you're walking together.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 2. just prepare yourself for horrendous shedding as summer begins… but you don’t mind helping him brush through his fur (*´ω`*) its therapeutic and you’re one of the very few people he trusts with the task so its a win for both of you.

since he's a wolf thiren, he sometimes unwillingly attracts the attention of stray cats and dogs; he usually pays them no mind but it is somewhat of an inconvenience for him. however, the sight of you playing with them while quietly cooing eases some of his discomfort. seems like you aren't the only one suffering from cuteness aggression.

his guilty pleasure is squishing your cheeks in his hands. no i will not elaborate

wise

this is one of the random play managers we’re talking about, so. movie date nights are mandatory. both of you alternate when picking movies but sometimes you bicker over options like an old married couple just for the fun of it.

a lot more chill when it comes to PDA but he can be flirty when he wants to be. if he knows you have a weak spot for it, he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. scheming little minx. /pos

words of affirmation and quality time guy, i think. since he's always so busy with managing the store and completing commissions alongside belle as proxies, he makes the most out of the time you guys can spend together alone. even if it's just laying in his bed or on the couch doing nothing together sometimes.

everyone and their mothers and grandmothers on sixth street will probably know that you’re dating or figure something out at some point even when both of you don’t really do much together in public/are trying to keep it on the low. never underestimate these aunties man

unfortunately for wise, he will become the target of teasing or nagging from belle when it comes to your relationship. once you get close enough she'll also share embarrassing stories from when they were younger or before you and wise started dating much to her brother’s chagrin.

secretly likes clinging and cuddling up to you like a koala. both of you are in bed? oh okay, don’t mind him, he’ll just scooch a bit and wrap his arms and legs around you, claiming that having you in his bed helps fix his insomnia (it does, to some degree). [“wise i can’t move.” “you don’t need to.”]

on the days you help out with tasks in random play, you could quite literally just be standing while doing something and then you’ll feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist from behind as he leans his head on one of your shoulders with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

[muntitled]

Poor thing ♡

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: sleepy gf ♡ horny bf

♡ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dumbification dollification, Slight ddlg, Brief Daddy Kink, Somnophilia, which means dub/con, Breeding Kink, Domestic Kink, Corruption Kink, Unedited, Mentions of Bondage

This might be tmi but I got turned on writing this and that's probably because I didn't realise how much I love this man. It's so bad girl, pray for me

You'd spoken about kink since the peroration of your relationship. It had been something you'd both decided was very important.

Although Jake admits he only thought kink was a few whips and rope, you assured him it was indeed a whole other world.

“What about somno?,” you'd asked him, while you both sat lazily on the comfort of your living room floor, soaking in the idle 808 beats of some Metro Boomin track while you both had a notebook out in front of you.

Although Jake craved for nothing more than to close the large distance between the two of you while you jotted down your sexual boundaries, even if it was just a hand placed on your thigh, he stopped himself.

He knew that distance was necessary when discussing sexual do’s and don'ts.

There couldn't be any sort of touching involved while you both fleshed out and divulged what would and would not be allowed within the sexual confines of your relationship.

All this talk about sex, however, had regressed his adult brain back into adolescence and he nursed an annoying boner the more you spoke.

“What's that?” He asked with his head tilted unconsciously. All you could do was chuckle softly as you eyed your boyfriend sitting on the floor adjacent to you. Your legs were splayed out and running parallel to his but still evaded the possibility of touch. You did not only find it adorable to witness just how much your boyfriend was trying to behave for you, you also found it so incredibly attractive.

“C'mon,” you had said as you shyly spun your finger on the rim of your glass containing a mild coke zero (no intoxication when discussing boundaries. Another infuriating rule, Jake found). “I do not have to explain to you what somno is,”

Jake only shrugged as he eyed you from across the small room. His back leaning against the couch was tense as he said, “afraid you do, babe,”

It was the way he was looking at you, with his eyes carelessly conveying just how turned on he'd managed to get during this short time of abstinence.

Your eyes never leave him when you talk. Hoping to convey your own need as you said “You can google it, Jake.”

“I can,” he nodded almost immediately, “Course I can, but I don't want to.”

What he didn't say is that he much rather preferred it when you used your words to divulge your knowledge on every filthy little detail about a particular kink. It turned him on to know what slept inside your mind and it made him uncharacteristically unhinged with lust when such dirty words left an unusually dignified mouth.

Corruption Kink. You had given him that diagnosis sometime throughout the evening.

“Jake,” you shake your head again, feeling the heat seep into the worn fabric of Jake's old Tupac shirt. It was probably unwise to be dressed in nothing but his oversized graphic tee and you're only made aware of this dire mistake right now. “You know.”

“No, actually, I don't.” He breaches the rules. Fuck the rules. And he lets his hand reach to tentatively rub at your cute little toe before returning his hand to his notebook.

“Tell me what somno is-”

“Sleep play.” You eventually shoved the words out of your mouth like unwanted visitors.

The second they registered in Jake's head he was sitting just a little straighter.

“Jesus…” Is all he said as he downed the rest of the 100% orange juice which he had really wished was 60% straight fucking vodka.

“Y-Yeah, but we don't really have to go into this one. I could just write it down in the ‘not interested’ list and we can just move on-” at the sight of you bending your head to furiously scribble inside the notebook containing the safety guidelines of your sex life, Jake reached out once again until his hand was perfectly encapsulating your entire foot.

“Nah, hold on.” He said, with a hint of a smile and nothing but sheer intrigue swimming in his eyes, “don't get rid of it yet.” He said. “Let's talk about it.” The devil shrugged. “Give it a fair chance.”

And although the evening had ended with Jake ravishing you on the living room floor -you were folded in half as he ate you out with the fervour of a starved man- Jake Sim did not incorporate any of the kink you two had just spoken about into the act.

In fact, all of your sexual escapades have been fairly vanilla with added hints of praise and degradation here and there before this very night.

Let it be clear that Jake Sim did not expect sex on this particular Thursday evening.

He had been having a particularly cursed day with nothing at all going right for him except the prospect of seeing you after dance practice. The possibility of you cradling him against the plushness of your breasts while you sang to him with your fingers running through his hair kept him afloat until he let himself into your apartment by the end of the day.

“Yo? ‘anyone home?”

Instead of finding you tapping away at your laptop or consuming a starkly provocative HBO original, Jake found you asleep, in your room. Fairy lights on while the sound of crashing waves bled through your phone speaker.

Before he got horny, let the record reflect that Jake was perfectly content with climbing into bed with you and dozing off himself. But he couldn't help how his body responded to the softness of your curves pressing into his side the moment he lowered himself onto your bed and into your warm pink quilts. He should be closing his eyes, dozing off alongside you but the longer he stares at the miniscule details of your face, the more his stomach tightens and warms.

Perhaps, venturing into more sinister territory, Jake's eyes skate down to your slightly open mouth and then- down to your frame nestled under his armpit, where you lay in a foetal position with your stuffed animal held in an almost primal grip.

It is then that the first beginning of guilt seeps into his lower stomach, feeling that he doesn't really wish to dissect, especially given your very persuasive reassurances that “kink should never feel icky if it's consensual.”

And you gave him your consent.

Jake still remembers your slightly laboured breathing when you admitted to being turned on by the idea of somnophilia.

The smile on Jake's face as he bends down to nestle his face in your headwrap is placid, like calm still waters on a Sunday afternoon. Doing a very good job at hiding the tempest within.

You stir in your sleep and Jake swallows thickly. With his lips still pressed against your head, he stares into space with a vague look of worry and discontent. He knows, logically, that he should not feel bad for what he's about to do. It was only human, after all, to feel sexual desire for your partner. What did not feel normal, however, is how he managed to grow impossibly hard in his sweatpants, and all you've done was sleep, you poor thing.

This time when you shift again, it's to hike your leg up further along his torso, and unbeknownst to you, a broken moan seeps out of Jake's mouth because your leg is now brushing right up against his tense and hardened cock. Jake attempts to regulate his breathing through his nose (in and out, in and out) but his brain loses sight of how unethical this all is under the realisation of just how warm you are underneath him. The arm he had wrapped around your frame flexes as he brings his hand up to the curve of your voluptuous hips. It's then when he thinks about them… you having his kids, and suddenly, he's manoeuvring you even closer into his arms.

“Jakey? Baby, you home?”

Home.

It felt so domestic and it didn't help the heat seeping out of Jake's tense body.

Your groans perpetuate through the confines of the bedroom. You're slowly waking from one of those ghastly kinds of naps. The kind of nap that existed outside space and time and everything else in the known universe. The kind of nap that had you groggily opening your eyes crowded with crust as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

His voice is raspy as he whispers back, “I’m home, Bunny,” Everything in the universe begins to right itself when Jake presses a warm, slightly sloppy kiss to the top of your head and you can feel yourself coming to grips with your surroundings. A warm sigh leaves your mouth and you melt into the sensuality of Jake's second kiss which he displays across the side of your face, moving lower and lower and hiking up your leg still splayed over his lap.

Jake's eyes are closed, brows furrowed and his kiss is lingering. His lips never stray from your skin and you can feel your limp, half asleep body being pressed in further against his warmth. You're suddenly becoming all too aware of your core pressed against Jake's hips at this angle; you and your boyfriend's limbs are practically intertwined.

His warmth is all encompassing.

“Ja-What…” a sleepy little yawn squeaks out of your throat and you unconsciously bring a limp hand up to wipe away all the sleep.

Jake watches you with grave, grave admiration. The kind of feeling that squeezes at his heart and, perhaps more shamefully, his cock. “What time is it?”

“Not important, Bunny,” he kisses you again. Heaven's he was brimming with kisses for you. They felt like a lullaby, coaxing you back to bed. “Just go back to bed,”

Those particular words have you blinking up at your boyfriend who begins to come into focus under the hazy orange glow of the fairy lights. Your body stretches ever so slightly as you crane your head up to meet his half lidded eyes.

“What time is it-” you begin to answer again, but Jake stops you once again.

“You don't need to worry your pretty brain about stuff like that,” he nudges his chin towards you as if beckoning to play along with this scene he's orchestrated for the two of you. Despite feeling your heart strings tugging at the idea of playing along, you're still very much plagued by rationality.

“Jake- Baby, you have practice tomorrow. I don't think you can sleep over-”

“But pretty girls don't think,” he nestles his head into the crook of your shoulders and he squeezes. Once again, begging you to play along, “You never have to think when you have me.”

You could feel the better part of you being dragged into the safe, plush wonderland of your subspace, just from his words alone. When Jake doesn't get a response he pulls back to make eye contact with you once more, Sickeningly satisfied to see the fog beginning to fill your pupils.

“But, Jakey-” he has you. He knows he has you.

“You still sound so sleepy, Baby,” he whispers, and you're quite shocked to find yourself being lifted off the bed, “You want Jakey to help take the sleepiness away, don't you?”

Another kink you two had discussed ad nauseum but had failed to ever orchestrate in real time. It happened flawlessly between you both. A torrid yet natural dance. Ddlg, you called it.

Jake is still lying supine on the bed as he manoeuvres you to straddle his legs. Your hands anchor yourself by the rough skin of his torso through his pitch black shirt while his hands find home on your thigh, “I need you to help me out and then you won't be sleepy anymore, yeah?” The smile he gives you is enough to get any person to bend to his every will and so you find yourself nodding dumbly, with your eyes still half lidded, and a part of your brain experiencing a sleeplike calmness. “Jakey needs you to be good for him, okay?” You swallow thickly and yelp when Jake lifts his hips, subsequently lifting you as if you weighed nothing at all. His eyes are pained when he uncovers his hard, leaking dick from his sweatpants. You're not sure if it's the sleepiness still raining heavily on you but you're suddenly plagued by the need to enclose his cock in your hand.

So that's what you do

With your limbs operating on autopilot, your hand falls lazily over his cock while you tiredly rub your left eye with your other hand.

“F-Fuck, Bunny- What're you doing?” Jake looks up at you with wild, pained eyes and you peer down at him with a tilted head. Ever so clueless. Ever so beautiful, “I wanna help,” You whisper and his cock immediately twitches in your hand, “I wanna help,” You mumble as you lower your front against his, nuzzling into his neck while you sleepily begin to pump his cock.

Your chin hangs over his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut, all the while, Jake bites his bottom lip until he's on the verge of breaking skin.

“You're trying to off me, you know that?” Jake whispers into your ear as the warmth of your palm struggles to keep him thinking rationally. Unable to stop himself from lifting his hips slightly to grind against your hand, Jake hopes for more friction, more fucking pressure, but it never comes. Not when you've basically passed out on top of him.

“F-Fuck me,” Jake whispers as he lift his hands to lightlyoaw at your hips. “You're making me fucking insane, you know that?” Jake's voice is coated with singsong need as he shuffles you lower on his torso until your hips meet his. “You said this is okay, didn't you baby?” The only answer he gets in return is a few lightly snores as he lifts you up, having you hover djrectly over his aching cock, twitching to be inside you.

For a while Jake is perfectly content with humping lazily against your pyjama pants as you shuffle intermittently.

His hands rub over your back, feeling your chest pressed against his before drifting his hand down to the curve of your ass and the thin pyjama shorts hugging your hips.

He immediately decides he can't do it.

“Daddy needs to be inside you, Bunny.” Your breasts push against him as he reaches down to swipe your pyjama pants and your oantjes to the side, “Your hands and mouth…They just won't do, baby. I need to fuck you, d'you understand?” he asks with so much concern and so much consideration it would have your heart clenching in its cage if you were conscious.

Jake's breath is caught in his throat as the head of his cock prods at your tight opening. As he tries to guide his cock in, you shift a little over him, causing him to pat lovingly at your back, coaxing you to sleep as he forced his cock into your cunt. Instead of swallowing him like you usually did, your cunt is vehemently trying to push out the intrusion, which only succeeds in turning him on more.

Jake buries his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing in your scent as he pushes himself in despite the tight fit.

“You're gonna make me cum so quick, Princess,” he whispers into your hair.

You barely made it 10 pumps before your shuffling above him with your cunt was split into two.

He wanted to use you, he needed to make you his dumb, unresponsive toy and Jake shivers as a bead of precum streams down the side of his cock.

“You're doing so good for me,” his hips lift as his hand on your ass presses down, forcing you to meet his steadily growing thrusts“You don't wanna disappoint me, do you?” he asks your cute, sleeping form. As if in response to his words, your body subconsciously reacts and your cunt tightens around his cock, immediately sending Jake into a bitter delirium.

Soon, his head is thrown back into the pillows and both his hands are firmly on your ass as he begins to fuck up into you with less care. “F-Fuck Princess, I think I could cum like this,”

You're shuffling again. Threatening to wake up. It only has Jake fucking you harder, bringing him closer to the edge.

“F-Fuck-this fucking pussy-” You were being split in two. You on top of him somehow felt like he was going deeper than how he usually went. “Oh God, you're so warm, Bunny,” He exclaims, looking up at the ceiling with his own pained expression, completely and utterly trapped in his dom space as he begins to move you up and down on his cock.

Your limp body followed, unable to conjure up the strength of your own movements. He had all the control over all your movements, kinda like-

“Y-You're my toy, aren't you, Bunny?” Jake is so completely fargone as he watches your ass bounce with each of his rabid thrusts, completely uncaring over whether you're awake or not. “Fuck, you’re my fucking toy,” Jake's a blubbering mess and it only makes you wetter as you slowly blink open your eyes, in the very middle of one of your most prized fantasy’s. Your cunt squeezes around his cock. Your heart hammering in your chest. Your orgasm crests along with his.

You had never thought you'd ever know what a sleepy orgasm would feel like but somehow you knew it would ram through you with way too much intensity.

“You like me deep inside, yeah? You like being split open while you sleep, Bunny? Hm? You're so fucking perfect you know that? So fucking pretty- J need you to have my babies, yeah?” The more he talks, the more it's difficult to pretend to stay asleep. A groggy and tired moan slips out of your mouth while your arousal slips out of your leaking cunt. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Us having babies.”

Jake's hips stutter against yours. His jaw is locked tight as you clench around him, “F-Fuck you would like that-” It is then that you're starkly aware of the hidden narcissism that this kink bred. Here he was, using you to get off with only himself as the audience. Jake was guiding himself to orgasm with his own dirty words as if he were God and somehow that thought succeeds in bringing you to orgasm.

“Oh God, Jake-”

“You need me to get you pregnant, don't you?” Your head nods almost unconsciously, without the permission of your rational brain and Jake speeds up his fucking into you, as orchestrating a new form of movement. He was always leading you, even when it came to his pleasure.

“Just like that, Bunny,” he always praised you without a second thought…

Jake is working himself to orgasm with short, shallow breaths. His hips lift to thrust into your dripping cunt and in his mind he's about to come to the fact that you really are his toy.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum,” he whispers into the side of your head, “Your leaky fucking pussy's going to make me cum, Bunny-”

His orgasm triggers another one of your own and both your legs spasm, locking around him as Jake releases his cum deep inside you. His hand clenched down on your hips, forcing you to take in every single drop until it's forcing itself out of your dripping cunt, trailing down your thigh. After riding the high of his orgasm, Jake looks bright eyed again, like he's gotten rid of something very dark and very oppressive until the sunny Jake Sim was back.

“So good,” he smiles down at you, “You always do so well for me”

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[259kmvn]

oblivious

confessions of a flirt to his oblivious childhood friend, tartaglia x reader fluff

tartaglia is hot. everyone knows that. he doesn't shy away from establishing that fact; strutting around like he owns every room he walks into. that's why it's up to you, as his childhood friend who's (supposedly) immune to his hot appearance and demeanour, to put him in his place— just like today.

as usual, you're hanging out with him at the nearby park, enjoying sandwiches and some juice on a wooden bench. "y'know, i still can't believe that you've never dated anyone before," you say mid-sandwich, observing the couples that pass by, "you're too flirtatious to not have any partners." you take a bite before turning to him.

"...you think i'm too hot to not get bitches?" he replies, playful in his wording as he chews his bread. you don't need to see his lips to know that he's smiling.

"you know what i mean," you roll your eyes. "you're always flirting around and making weird faces that are so— like that! just like that!" at that moment, his eyes caught yours, eyebrows theatrically raising in a suggestive manner. the apples of his smooth, soft cheeks rise ever so gently and you have to react quickly before you fall for it—

"stop that, that's disgusting!" you couldn't help but stifle a laughter, "see? you're always doing these things and there's no way you're not trying to get at anyone like that." you return to your sandwich after making your point.

"i never said i'm not trying to get anyone..." his looks upwards, like he's trying to recall if he's ever said that. when he doesn't find a recollection, he looks back at you. a smirk emerges, suspicious and teasing. "but hmm... so you do think i'm hot."

he winks.

a grimace pulls your lips wide. "oh my gosh, stop! i never said anything about you being hot. i'm just saying that you're— gah—" you're interrupted by his dramatic pouting, "do you act like this with other people?!" he chuckles at your animated movements, clearly enjoying tormenting you. he's only about to make it worse.

slinging his arm around your shoulder (though not touching you directly— rather, his arm rests on the bench you're on instead), he leans in, cheeky. almost sharing a breath with you. "you don't want me to be like this with other people?" a head tilt, and for a split second his eyes conveyed innocence. only for a split second, though.

you can't handle it. it's worthy to note that right now, you're blushing hard, your face is warm, and you're only getting more riled up, "i did not say that— gosh, you're actually impossible to talk to, you know that?" you lean back in resignation, not realising his arm was closer to you than you thought. it's electric, his skin against your back, and you lurch forward at the contact immediately. "ah! i'm, i'm sorry. didn't realise your arm was— y-yeah..."

tartaglia, who also seemed surprise at the sudden contact, withdraws his arm carefully. he places his hand on his lap and leans back, looking up at the sky. in your subduing flustered state, you hear him release a sigh. "so, you don't like me that much, huh..." he says, a tinge of melancholy in his voice.

oh..? what's this? an unassuming hint of guilt whispers in your heart and you can't help but listen.

"listen... i never said i don't like you. i just—" you pause, "i just..."

you just what? you almost hear him say, though you're sure it's just your thoughts.

he doesn't turn to look at you, but you feel the weight of his gaze seeping from the corner of his eye. he's listening. "everyone thinks you're hot. hell, you know you're hot. so why haven't you dated anyone yet, then? something doesn't make sense. i... i think..." your eyes travel the park as you search your thoughts, "you're lying to me about something."

you reanimate when you realise you might've said something odd. "not— not that your private life has anything to do with me! but... i would like our friendship to be built on honesty, y'know? ...don't ask me why." that last sentence is curt, like you don't want to elaborate further. and tartaglia doesn't expect you to. he doesn't reply at all.

you both let the silence simmer, finishing up your sandwiches. it's tense, with many words being unsaid, but somehow, it's not awkward. when he's finished with his sandwich, he claps the crumbs off his fingers. he's ready to speak.

"you wanna know why i've never dated despite," and he laughs a little, "despite being hot?" he sees a squint approaching your eyes, "this is in your words, so don't fight me about it." the squint retracts itself. he rests his elbow on his lap, and his chin on his hand, closing the gap between you and him. not too close— never too close, you realise, and it's never the case that he takes up your space unnecessarily. but now's not the time to think about that.

"it's 'cause i think you're hot. and i only care if you think i'm hot." and there it is: his shit-eating grin. but behind the playful tease of his perfect teeth, you hear something genuine. "in other words, i like you." your lips press together tightly as the realisation dawns on you.

"in other other words, i only want to date you. ever."

you're still processing his words.

"in other other other words, i—"

"alright, i get it! you don't have to.. geez, you don't have to keep saying it like that," if the blush you had before was raging and intense, this time it's tentative; uncertain, contemplative. you could almost say that it feels sentimental. "...since when? why now? i have so many questions," you don't have the strength except to whisper your thoughts.

to this, he laughs— and for the first time, you realise how melodic his voice is. well, it's always been melodic, but it's only now that you're letting yourself accept it. "dude, i've been flirting with you since we were teenagers— i don't know what to tell you. i can't believe how oblivious you are!" and his laugh continues, contagious in that you also embarrassingly laugh along.

"you can't blame me! i thought you're always just... like that!" you argue back. attempting to scrape up whatever dignity you have left. "you're hot enough to be like that, anyway..."

tartaglia's ear perks up. shit. you shouldn't have said that. "what did you say~?" he cups a hand behind his ear, taunting you to repeat yourself.

"you're not gonna hear that from me again!" you stand up, abrupt, and brush the crumbs off your thighs. tossing your empty juice cup into a nearby trashcan, you stomp away, "i'm going home."

"hey, wait!" he follows suit in a giggling rush.

you walk home with him in tow, and as he always does, he synchronises his walking pace to yours. you can't help but ask him, "when did you first..?"

"hmm... it definitely was not love at first sight," he starts off. to this you playfully kick his shin, and he avoids it with ease. "i couldn't stand you at first. you were too smart, too attractive, too good at bickering with me— still are, by the way. but i guess something changed when we became teenagers."

amidst your embarrassment at hearing him praise you, you slip in a snide. "hormones?"

"heh, probably," another kick in the shin, "but i grew attached to you. now, there's no one else i think i'd rather spend my whole life with. i don't think i can imagine a life without you arou—"

"woah, woah! slow down. starting to sound like a proposal there," you interrupt, and your face is extremely warm as you do so. "we're not even... dating..." there's a hesitation before you continue, "...yet..."

but it seems tartaglia doesn't hear the 'yet', with how dejected he looks when you say it. "yeah... you're right," his response is curt.

you finally arrive at the front of your house. it's not odd that he's walked you home without a question— he always does so since you were young. and now you wonder if that is odd. you thank him for hanging out and prepare to wave goodbye, but something stops you from leaving. maybe it's his slumping figure, or his avoidance to meet your gaze.

"take care, i'll... i'll see you around." he says, and his tone is octaves lower than it's ever been. it leaves a crushing feeling in your heart. the feeling gets worse when he turns to walk away without even sparing you a glance. you're stuck in your spot, assessing your options. his long legs have already taken seven steps away from you, leaving a shadow behind.

"tartaglia, wait!"

he freezes in his tracks. head perking up slightly at your voice. you start jogging towards him, and he turns to face you. he notices a determination in your stature. he becomes curious.

"i... i appreciate you having the courage to tell me you like me. i know i'm not the best at.. not being oblivious, so i'm really grateful that you told me. directly. in my face." his eyebrows raise in anticipation, "i'm also sorry for not noticing earlier. and i'm sorry for calling you disgusting just now." (he's already forgotten that part). "also, sorry for kicking you in the shins. i just— um, well. what i mean to say is,"

you gently rest your hands on his shoulders and lean in...

to kiss him.

[isak-dot-gov]

Rekindling the flame (Balancing Act pt. 2)

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Word count: 1457

Part 1

My masterlist :)

..........................................

The weeks of separation had been torturous. Each day felt like an eternity, and the silence between you and Rhea was deafening. You missed her voice, her touch, and the way she made you feel cherished. Yet, despite the distance, you found solace in the hope that this time apart might lead to something better.

The separation gave Rhea the space she needed to reflect on her priorities. The demanding nature of her career had caused a rift between you two, and she recognized the gravity of her neglect. Every missed call, every late-night practice, and every rushed goodbye became a learning experience. She threw herself into finding ways to show you how much you meant to her, working tirelessly to reconcile her intense career focus with the needs of your relationship. She realised that being a powerhouse in the ring meant nothing if she couldn’t be there for the person she loved most.

One crisp Saturday afternoon, after weeks of heartfelt effort and late nights of planning, Rhea was ready to make amends. She had meticulously planned a surprise that she hoped would convey how deeply she felt and how determined she was to make things right.

You had been out for a walk, enjoying the fresh air and trying to clear your mind. It was a routine that had become comforting in its simplicity—taking a moment to breathe, to reflect, and to escape the loneliness that had settled in during the separation. When you returned home, the familiar scent of something wonderful wafted through the air, making your heart race with curiosity and anticipation. The moment you walked in, you were greeted by a sight that took your breath away.

There, in the middle of your living room, was a beautifully set table. The room was bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, casting a warm glow over a delicious spread of your favourite dishes. The effort Rhea had put into this setting was evident in every detail—from the carefully chosen tablecloth to the neatly arranged silverware. It was as if she had created a sanctuary just for the two of you.

As you walked in, Rhea stood by the table, her eyes filled with a mix of nervousness and hope. She was dressed in a casual outfit that still managed to look incredibly charming, and her smile was a little shy but full of love. The sight of her, so vulnerable and sincere, tugged at your heartstrings.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I wanted to do something special for you. I know I’ve been away and that I’ve hurt you, and I’m really sorry. I want to show you that I’ve been working hard to make things right.”

You stood there, taking in the scene before you. The effort she’d put into this gesture touched you deeply. Your heart ached with the mixture of emotions you felt—sadness, hope, and a yearning to reconnect. You could see the love and sincerity in her eyes, and it made the pain of the past weeks feel just a little bit more bearable.

“Rhea, this is... amazing,” you said, your voice catching as you walked over to the table. “I didn’t expect this.”

Rhea stepped forward, reaching out to gently take your hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. I know I’ve been neglectful, and that was never my intention. I want to make it up to you. I want us to find our way back to each other.”

You looked up at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “I’ve missed you,” you admitted, your voice soft. “I’ve missed us.”

Rhea’s eyes softened, and she pulled you into a warm embrace. The closeness you felt was a balm to your aching heart. “I’ve missed you too,” she murmured, holding you close. “I want to show you that you’re my priority. I want to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”

As she pulled back slightly, her gaze remained locked with yours, filled with a tender expression. “I’ve planned this evening to be just for us. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us, reconnecting and rediscovering what we have together.”

You sat down at the table, and Rhea served you the carefully prepared meal, her hands steady despite her nervousness. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a genuine connection rekindling between you. You talked about the little things—how your days had been, how much you missed her, and the small joys and struggles you’d faced during the separation.

Rhea talked about her time away, the realisations she had come to, and the steps she was taking to make things better. She spoke with an honesty and vulnerability that had been missing in your previous conversations. It was clear that she had been putting in the effort to understand her shortcomings and address them. She shared her plans for managing her work better, including setting boundaries to ensure that she was more present in your life.

After dinner, Rhea took your hand again, leading you to the couch where she had set up a cosy spot with blankets and a selection of your favourite movies. The couch was adorned with soft, inviting pillows, and the room was filled with the comforting aroma of vanilla candles. As you settled in together, she put her arm around you, pulling you close.

“I know that actions speak louder than words,” Rhea said quietly, her voice filled with earnestness. “And I want to show you through my actions that I’m committed to making this work. I’ll be more present, more attentive. I’ll make sure that our relationship is as important to me as my career.”

You leaned into her, feeling the warmth and sincerity of her words. “I believe you,” you said softly, your voice filled with emotion. “It’s going to take time, but I’m willing to work through this with you.”

Rhea nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me the chance to prove it. I love you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you know just how much.”

As you sat together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the comfort of her presence and the heartfelt effort she had put into this evening began to heal the wounds of the past weeks. You knew that rebuilding trust and finding balance wouldn’t be easy, but you also knew that Rhea was committed to making it work. The evening was filled with quiet laughter, shared memories, and a renewed sense of connection. 

Rhea was attentive, making sure that every moment was about you and her—no interruptions, no distractions. She listened intently as you spoke, her touch gentle and reassuring. You both laughed and reminisced about old times, the bond between you growing stronger with every shared story and every tender gesture.

As the night drew to a close, Rhea took you by the hand and led you to the bedroom, where a simple yet heartfelt touch awaited. The bed was surrounded by candles, and soft music played in the background. The atmosphere was intimate and filled with a warmth that spoke volumes about Rhea’s effort to make things right.

You both settled into the bed, the quiet of the room allowing you to fully embrace the comfort and peace that came with being close to each other again. Rhea held you close, her arms wrapping around you as if she never wanted to let go.

“I’m going to work on this,” Rhea whispered, her voice a soothing promise. “I want to make sure you feel valued and loved every day. I know I can’t change the past, but I can work hard to ensure that our future is filled with more moments like this.”

You nestled against her, feeling the warmth of her love and the sincerity of her words. “I appreciate everything you’ve done tonight,” you said softly. “It means a lot to me. I know it’s going to take time, but I’m willing to take that time with you.”

Rhea kissed the top of your head, her touch gentle and full of affection. “Thank you for believing in us,” she murmured. “I’m going to make sure that our love is always a priority.”

As you drifted off to sleep in Rhea’s arms, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The night had been a testament to her commitment and love, and while you knew that challenges still lay ahead, you felt confident that together, you could overcome them. Sometimes, it took a grand gesture and sincere effort to reignite the flame, and with Rhea’s promise and commitment, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

...................................................

[ageofwagner]

Kiss My Scars

Pairing: Danny Wagner x fem!reader

Summary: Danny reminds Y/n that her scars are nothing to be ashamed of.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, disliking body image, descriptions of self-harm scars (not graphic), Danny’s love language as physical touch, affirmations, Danny being the best bf.

a/n: this is super self-indulgent and I just love imagining Danny being sweet to someone that has been through so much. To anyone that may relate to the content of this fic, you are valid, I love you and I'm proud of you <3

masterlist

"You could've hated my scars, instead you kissed them"

You stood there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, a feeling of self-loathing wrapping itself around you as you trace the faded scars littering your upper thigh. A shaky sigh escapes your lips as you turn away, eyes burning in an attempt to withhold oncoming tears and try to even out your breathing.

Hearing footsteps approaching the bedroom, you quickly step into the ensuite bathroom and close the door, locking it before sliding down and pulling your knees to your chest. Your head falls back as you feel the first traitorous tear escape through the corner of your eye, trailing down the side of your face.

Danny stops outside the bathroom door, "Hey babe, you ready to go?" your back stiffens, feeling panic radiate throughout your body. You stutter a response, "Yeah I- uh just need a few minutes" internally cursing yourself for not keeping it together.

Seeing right through you, he knocks gently only to be met with silence. Danny feels unease settle in his stomach when he tries the doorknob to find that you had locked it, something he knows you rarely ever do.

"Is everything okay? Can you please let me in?" he asks gently, sensing your need for comfort. You feel suddenly guilty at the double meaning of his plea - you had a habit of shutting everyone out when things got bad, as you currently were with him.

That guilt ruminated as it always does, thinking about how excited Danny was to go to this pool party and here you were, ruining that for him with your insecurities once again. You remain silent, more tears trailing down your face as you stand to face the full-length mirror, once again examining your reflection; the purple-tinged lines permanently covering the majority of your thighs, tainting your figure.

Your head twists toward the door again when you hear the door knob jiggling, "Baby please, I'm worried" Hearing the desperation in his voice prompted you to give in. You splashed some water on your face in an attempt to snap yourself out of it; wiping your face you take a deep breath and unlock the door.

Danny immediately burst into the bathroom, concern evident on his face as his eyes scanned your body, you knew instantly what he was checking for. Once again the bitter feeling of shame and guilt engulfed your body. You shifted your gaze to your feet, unable to meet his eyes.

He uses his thumb and forefinger to grab hold of your chin, gently forcing you to meet his worried eyes, "What's wrong?" his voice was so gentle it could hardly be heard. Your eyes filled with tears, betraying you by conveying the emotion you had tried so desperately to conceal from him. "Nothing, I'm okay" you choked out, refusing to ruin his day further.

Danny shook his head, "No, you're not" he stated simply, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin atop your head as he rubbed soothing circles into your back, "and that's alright. It's okay to allow yourself to feel these things, but it's not okay to convince yourself that you have to deal with this all on your own. I know you feel that you have to fight your own battles but you don't have to do it alone." He felt you shaking as you cried into his chest, tightening his hold on you, wishing he could shield you from anything that could ever hurt you, "You have fought so hard on your own, but I'm here now and I never want you to feel like you have to do it alone, ever again."

You felt the tears flowing down your cheeks once again at the sincerity within his words, you nuzzled further into his chest, allowing a sob to escape you as he squeezes you in his embrace, showing you he will do everything in his power to protect you.

The two of you remain in that position until you can calm your breathing, Danny whispering loving words of affirmation while you attempt to calm the racing thoughts in your mind. After a few more moments you pull away, arms resting around his lower back as you look up at him; your eyes, red and puffy, find his glazed over, attempting to conceal the emotion swirling behind his eyes.

"I love you so much" you manage to speak, though your voice strained with emotion, "I love you more" he returns, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

As you part he looks at you before offering, "Can you tell me what happened?" you drop your hands from his back, stepping out of the bathroom to the full-length mirror positioned next to your bed. You stare at your face in the reflection, noticing the bloodshot eyes, red splotches, and tear-stained cheeks; your gaze trailing down the figure in front of you, silently tearing your appearance apart.

Caught up in the cloud of self-deprecation, you didn't notice Danny standing behind you until you feel his feather-light touch sliding your hair off your shoulder, placing a kiss on the exposed skin, "Stop it" he instructs "I know what you're thinking and it's not true." He meets your gaze in the mirror for a moment, his eyes pleading with you to listen to him.

You tear your eyes away, looking at your marred thigh as you trace the slight bumps with your fingertips, "They're so ugly" you choke out, your voice barely a whisper as you finally vocalize the thought that has been eating away at you.

Danny feels his heart drop at your admission, the combination of what you had just said with the sheer despair in your voice, shattered his heart. Without hesitation, he interrupts your silent beratement by placing himself directly in front of you, blocking your view of the reflection staring back at you.

Gently cupping your face, he lifts your head to meet his gaze, "Listen to me, your scars are not ugly, not even close. Your scars are proof of how strong you are, they tell your stories; they are part of who you are and that is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, my love. Your scars do not determine your worth or beauty - and I know how you struggle to accept them but I promise you, I will always be here to show you how much I love you, scars and all."

You felt entirely overwhelmed by his compassion and love towards you. As the tears stream down your face, Danny pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you in a firm hold. He knew you found comfort in his embrace and in this moment, he would do anything to make you feel safe and loved.

He rubbed your back with one hand, using the other to stroke your hair; your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he reminds you how much he loves you, that you are strong and beautiful, hoping that if he says it enough, you'll eventually believe him.

Danny refuses to let go of you until you're ready. It's only when you pull away that he leads you to sit on the edge of the bed. He props himself on his knees on the floor, directly in front of your seated position, gently running his hands along the sides of your thighs. You've never been one to shy away from his touch but the spiral of insecurity you were feeling for the marks on your thighs has you tensing under his touch. Danny notices your apprehension and pauses his movements, concern evident on his face as he asks, "Is it okay if I touch you?" his hands were now hovering over your thighs, not wanting to upset you further.

You nod your head, reaching for his outstretched hands and placing them on your thighs, "It's okay," you mumble in response, a faint smile on your face at your boyfriend's consideration for your feelings.

Danny gives your thighs a gentle squeeze, meeting his eyes you see the sincerity behind them as he says, "I just wish you could see yourself through my eyes, I want to show you how beautiful you are, inside and out," he takes a watery breath before continuing, "your scars will never change that"

Your throat became thick with emotion, placing your hands over his and squeezing three times, a silent I love you, showing your appreciation without uttering a word.

You watched as Danny lowered his head into your lap, looking up to catch your eye briefly, ensuring his actions were okay - to which you nodded in response. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the middle of your upper thigh before switching to the other and repeating the action. You let out a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed by your vulnerability along with the love and adoration you feel from the man in front of you, quelling the anxiety and self-deprecating thoughts.

As Danny continues tracing the lines across your thighs, placing a kiss on each one, you feel your eyes begin to sting once again. The sound of your sniffling catches his attention, looking up he finds you smiling at him with tears in your eyes. You cup his face and pull him to you, kissing him softly, pouring all your love for him into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss, "I need you to do something for me, love" you nod your head, signaling him to continue, "I want more than anything for you to believe what I'm saying to you. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you" he took a deep breath, turning his head in an attempt to compose himself. Noticing a tear falling down his cheek, you turn his head so he's facing you, using your thumb to wipe the rogue tears away - just as he had done for you, moments ago.

"Anything," you say

"I need to hear you say it, my love"

Before you could question him, he clarified, "I want to hear you say your scars are not ugly. I need you to believe it." You look into his soft brown eyes and find nothing but love and admiration. Taking a deep breath you repeat after him, "My scars are not ugly"

Danny offers you a bright smile, eyes still glassy, "There we go" he praises, "Now, can you say 'I am beautiful'?"

You lower your head feeling heat spread up your neck, painting your cheeks in a rosy pink that Danny can never get enough of. Eyes focused on your lap, you repeat the affirmations until he lifts your chin using his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his gaze, "Look at me and say it again" he instructs, his voice so gentle it was practically a whisper. Straightening your back, you repeat the statements more confidently - smiling at the toothy grin he was giving you.

"Okay, one more thing," Danny moves his hands to the crease between your leg and hips, squeezing as he continues, "can you say 'I am loved'?"

You smile, leaning in just inches from his face, "I am loved" you state before connecting your lips with his. Danny keeps one hand firmly planted on your thigh, using the other to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss. As he pulls away, he looks up at you - his puffy lips spread in a loving smile as he praises you, "I'm so proud of you"

"How do you do that?" you ask

A crease forms between Danny's brows, "Do what?"

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, "You just always know the perfect thing to say"

A blush appears on Danny's face before he finally stands and moves to sit next to you on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arm around you to pull your body flush against his.

"I'm not really doing anything, my love, I'm just being honest with you," he pauses, trying to find the right words, "I know it sounds cliche but I'm just trying to show you how I see you. When you look at your scars you see them as weakness, I see them as strength."

You crane your neck to look at him, eyes tracing his features, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" you could feel his smile against your skin as he placed a kiss on your temple, "You may have mentioned it" he replies through an adoring laugh.

Danny continues to pepper kisses all over your face, whispering, "I love you too" somewhere between kisses. You revel in the feeling of him quite literally showering you with love - feeling lighter as the weight of your insecurity and sadness have been lifted.

Thank you for reading <3

I will be posting a part two for anyone interested in seeing a more light-hearted and playful ending :)

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 1 - DBDA Week

Day 1 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Things Unsaid

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne&Crystal Palace&Charles Rowland

Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff

TW: None

--

“Since this seems to be continuing,” Edwin said while motioning between him and Charles with his free hand. “I think I should tell you about what happened with the Cat King.”

Charles grimaced for a moment, before nodding encouragingly. Even if he appreciated the attempt at understanding silence, Edwin could practically hear the ‘so something did happen!’ in his eyes.

“He, well…” Edwin knew it had been his own conscious decision to start that particular conversation, but now that it was time to actually say the words, he couldn't find them. He exhaled a breath he didn't need. “He did try to get frisky with me.” He went for, remembering the word Charles had used at the time to describe the… ordeal.

“I knew it, that bastard,” Charles was moving to get up from the couch, to do what exactly, Edwin didn't know. It had been almost three years since the events of Port Townsend, it wouldn't make any sense for him to go there and find the Cat King after so long. 

Edwin pulled with his left hand, where his fingers were already loosely entwined with Charles’, effectively stopping him from whatever revenge plan he was concocting.

“Nothing happened,” Edwin continued, his voice soft. “And it was nothing… non-consensual.” The words felt weird on his tongue, even if he knew he was using them correctly in the context, and it was the best way to convey the message without risk of misunderstandings.

Charles swallowed hard. “Does that mean you wanted something to happen?”

“I don’t think I knew what I wanted. It took me by surprise, because I thought those kinds of desires were never to be acknowledged. And seeing him touching me so carelessly, so freely. That was…” This time, Edwin wasn't sure what the right word could be. After some consideration, he ended with “interesting”.

“Hmm.”

Edwin tightened his grip on Charles’ fingers again. “You have nothing to worry about, I have never thought about him in that way since we left Port Townsend, and especially since, well… you know.”

It didn't seem to be enough for Charles, as he was still looking uneasy, insecure. Edwin wouldn't have it. A couple of months prior, he would never have dared to admit that to himself, let alone out loud, but considering how they were sitting across one another on the couch with their legs intertwined and Charles’ hand was caressing his knee with the same familiarity with which he would lean on his own, he felt a surge of boldness he had never thought he had in him and admitted:

“Now all of my fantasies are about you.”

Charles went incredibly still, his eyes lost focus, his hands froze in place.

“Is… something wrong?” Edwin tried to ask. He thought about moving away to give him some space, wondering if maybe he had gone too far with the implication. They had kissed multiple times but they had never talked about anything more physical. He didn’t know what to make of Charles’ reaction.

Before he could decide on a course of action, Crystal slammed the office door open.

She took a long look at the scene in front of her, then her gaze stopped pointedly on Edwin. “What happened? How did you break him?”

“I just said-” Edwin started explaining, but was brutally interrupted by Charles, who had finally found his voice back.

“It's nothing, I just needed a moment. You know, there's another case with an abusive father.” He said, like those words explained everything. 

It had the desired effect, Edwin thought, because Crystal stopped the interrogation immediately, and draped herself over Charles - and consequently over Edwin’s legs, much to his disapproval - to comfort him.

Of course, Charles’ words did explain everything, or they would have, except there was no abusive father, and no case.

Edwin untangled himself from the other two trying not to push Crystal on the ground while doing so, and moved to look out the window.

After a while, when she decided Charles looked comfortable enough, Crystal followed him and sat at his desk. Edwin almost hated to admit to himself that nothing about the situation was bothering him: not Crystal hugging Charles, nor her taking his usual place at the desk. She was that much part of the agency that he trusted her completely, almost the same way he trusted Charles. Even if, of course, the relationships between the three of them had considerably shifted during the years.

It wasn’t until a day later that Charles and Edwin had a chance to be alone again, and Edwin was determined to keep asking questions until he understood exactly what had happened to Charles. He was in “full stubborn research mode”, as Crystal used to call it.

There was no need, though, because Charles started speaking as soon as they passed through the door:

“I’m sorry about… Making up a case yesterday, I was worried you would tell Crystal the truth.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn't have said exactly the same thing I said to you.”

“Yes, you would have.” Charles continued, his smile turning more affectionate. Edwin had to admit that he was probably right. He had just been so confused and maybe Crystal could help him understand.

“Did it upset you?” He asked. “What I said?”

Charles shook his head. “No, of course not, it was just… Unexpected.” He moved closer, encircling Edwin's waist with his arms, so close their noses were brushing against each other.

“Why? You didn't think that I could want-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Charles pressed a small kiss on his lips, effectively shutting it. He stepped away then, looking decidedly lighter than he had the previous day. “No, I just didn't expect you to be able to say it so… what word did you use? Freely.”

Charles grinned, and slumped on the couch, patting the place next to him in invitation. It was so easy to slot into Charles’ arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and entwining their hands. It almost seemed like they had done nothing else for forty years, instead of just a few months.

“What about before the Cat King?” Charles asked when they were settled, Edwin’s fingers playing with the hem of Charles’ sleeve. “Have you ever thought about us… Shagging?”

“No, I would never have dared to even dream of it.”

Charles moved a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the shorter hair at Edwin's nape.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that now,” he said after a while. “But I would like it too, one day.”

Edwin smiled, turning to nuzzle Charles' neck and pressing a kiss there at the base of his jaw. “Whenever you are ready, I will be here. We have literally forever to figure it out.”

[devildom-moss]

Roses for You (12)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Twelve Roses - Solomon

Word Count: +800

Be mine?

(Nightbringer specific era)

“You know you don’t have to walk me back to my room, right?” You informed Solomon as his shoulder brushed against yours. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him there, but Solomon had already planned the entire date – took care of everything and catered to your every whim. He didn’t need to keep it up.

“But I want to,” Solomon grinned at you so beautifully that you felt the need to deflect.

“Hoping to get a reward for such a lovely date?” you teased.

“I’d never refuse a reward from you, but spending the day with you was all the incentive I needed.” Solomon’s smile softened into something more contemplative. “We live together now, and I still find myself wanting more of your time.”

“Aww, do you get lonely?” you teased again, hoping to lighten the mood and brighten his smile.

“Yes.” He was straightforward.

 Your face warmed and you were partly relieved to see your bedroom door. His honesty flustered you to a point of wishing to hide from his affectionate gaze. How were you expected to respond? It wasn’t as if you planned your days around avoiding him. The brothers (and to a lesser extent, Diavolo and the angels) just required so much of your effort and time. You enjoyed being with them, sure, but you had to work towards securing your pacts in this timeline – for both your sakes. Solomon understood that. So, at times, he found himself sustained on scraps of your attention, indulging whenever the opportunity arose. This was a bitter sacrifice, but the sweetness in knowing you returned home and laid your head to rest so near his own offset some of that sickening loneliness.

When you touched the doorknob, something felt off – some benign trace of magic. Did you leave a cursed book or magical item in there before you left and simply forgot about it? Maybe Thirteen was testing a trap out on you. If that was the case, you didn’t have much to worry about. Whatever it was, it wasn’t strong or evil, so you opened the door. There was something amiss – or rather, there was something unexpected waiting for you. On your bedside table was a vase of black and red roses that weren’t there when you left for your date with Solomon. You pursed your lips and took a closer look.

Please let this be a magical delivery, you hoped. The thought of someone entering your room while you were out was unsettling – no matter how pretty the flowers were. Upon closer inspection, the bouquet contained six red and six black roses for a total of twelve: a message saying, “be mine,” which only made the sudden appearance of them in your room creepier. Furthermore, black and red was a confusing combination. Red was the color of love and passion, but black was typically associated with death or mourning. Did you have a creepy yandere on your hands or something?

There was a small card tucked into the flowers with a hand-drawn heart scribbled in with a black pen on one side. You reached for it and checked the back for a message. For my adorable apprentice, you read, sighing in relief before you continued, did you really think I wouldn’t throw my hat in the ring, too? It was partially my idea, after all, and I want your affection as much as anyone else.

You shook your head with the tips of your fingers pressed to your temple. The gesture of annoyance was contradicted by your smile and a laugh. “How did you even get this in here? I locked the door when I left.”

“A magician never reveals his secret, my dear.” Solomon beamed.

“You’re a sorcerer.”

“I could be both,” he joked.

“Well, you do pull out magic as a party trick a lot.”

“You love my magical party tricks,” Solomon laughed and let himself into your room. Coming up behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. He lifted one of the red roses slightly, holding the stem between two fingers. “So, what does my adorable apprentice think?”

“I’m not sure what you mean to say with the black roses. Were you just trying to be mysterious? Or am I dying, and this is how I find out?” you half-joked, earning a gentle sigh from Solomon.

“You know how the death tarot card signifies changes and new beginnings? Black roses are the same.” You felt Solomon nuzzle into your neck before he continued. “Being back in time like this – it’s a new beginning for us, in a way. I got to start in this time, already loving you – and with you already loving me, I hope.”

“I love you,” you interrupted his uncharacteristic self-doubt. Maybe he shouldn’t have had a second glass of wine with dinner.

“Good.” Solomon left a kiss on your neck. “I want you to be mine. I want you to trust and love and rely on me. I want you to choose me when it really counts. . . Did you notice that there are six of both colors? That’s because I’m yours.”

“Solomon.” You squirmed away from his grasp just enough to turn in his arms and hold his face in your hands. “Do you want to stay the night? Maybe we can do something about that loneliness of yours.”

Lucifer (1) | Mammon (2) | Leviathan (3) | Satan (4) | Asmodeus (5) | Beelzebub (6) | Belphegor (7) | Diavolo (8) | Barbatos (9) | Luke (10) | Simeon (11) | Thirteen (13) | Raphael (14) | Mephistopheles (15)

[edwardskhakipants]

“It doesn’t look like an engagement ring,”

Edward said in a lilting voice.

Another Edward settled in the space before her, sending his smirking, golden-eyed counterpart away in a puff of smoke. “Is something wrong?”

 Bella traced the sparkling halo of her engagement ring with her pinky. In its center sat a pearl, not a diamond. Looking at it made her heart feel both hollowed out and so heavy her chest could not contain it.

“Sweetheart?” he coaxed, placing a comforting hand on her knee. Seizing his fingers, she squeezed as hard as her humble human strength would allow.

She conveyed her hallucination’s concern.

Edward was very careful not to frown. “That’s because it’s from 1895. It was my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

In a graceful movement that made Bella feel clumsier, Edward joined her on the sleek leather couch. For a long moment, they stared out his window over the treetops. Leaves trembled under the patter of rain. Soft strums emanated from the record player. His right hand was still awkwardly jammed in hers, so he reached across his body with his left to softly stroke her cheek.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You can change your mind.”

“No,” Of that, Bella was certain. “We have to.”

On the night they returned from Italy, Bella had awoken to find her dream was reality. The figment of her imagination was a very real figure beside her. Still, she could not believe this story that seemed too good to be true. A reality in which Edward loved her as much as she loved him. Where he left because he loved her too much.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Edward had asked in a voice that was nearly a sob.

Bella had cried.

“How can you believe the lie but not the truth?”

Bella had shaken her head and cried.

“What can I do to prove my love?” He attempted to catch her tears, but they fell too fast for even a vampire to keep up with. “I will crawl at your feet until you deem me worthy to stand. I will buy you anything your hand touches. I will marry you and become your possession. I will write and perform symphonies in your honor for the rest of my days.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Yes?” Edward jumped on the word. “Yes to what? What can I do?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

There was only one choice: to stay with Edward forever. To do that, she must make the irreversible switch to become a monster herself. Edward was reluctant. Bella didn’t blame him. Who would want to settle for her?  Her own mother changed her bedroom into a yoga studio the moment she moved out, waving good riddance as she did. Unable to use feminine wiles, for she did not have any, she depended on guile. No brilliant idea had enlightened her yet. She had to tie herself to Edward in every way possible to keep him long enough until she figured out how to get him to change her.

“Of course. I will be your husband.”

“My husband,” Bella repeated. She spoke the words again, back in his room on the top floor in the Cullen house.

“Yes,” he agreed in that honeyed voice of his. Sweet and slow, it dripped down her spine, causing her to arch her back. “I am yours. With or without a marriage certificate.”

“With,” she stressed.

“With, then,” he nodded. He wrenched his hand from her grasp to scoop hers in his, displaying the ring for them both. “And I can get you another engagement ring if you don’t like this one.”

It wasn’t that Bella disliked the ring. She simply didn’t trust it. The pearlescent, chunky thing could mean anything. At any moment, Edward could throw it in her face, claiming their bond as a farce, and run away faster than her eyes could even discern. It was her only tie to him so far, and she needed it to be solid and true.

Nervous to ask too much of him and risk sending him away, she shook her head.

Edward saw right through it. “We’ll go to the jeweler later today.”

He pressed his lips to hers, chaste and loving. She kissed him back so hard she was nearly biting him.

✨🌲✨

He was taunting her.

Edward and Bella sat in a love seat, perfectly positioned in the Cullen household to enjoy the fireplace and the flowering hydrangeas in the window. A wonderful, romantic setting they’d shared before, usually with a book between them or their foreheads pressed together, exchanging sweet nothings. Yet, he spoke to Emmett. His brother always brought out Edward’s most jovial mood. It was something Bella used to enjoy. The roar of Edward’s unburdened laughter would blossom in her chest. She liked to hear the joke that caused such a reaction, so she could study it and pick it apart to inspire the same laugh herself. Now, it felt cruel for him to speak to another while she was there. A show to prove how much he did not need her. He could leave her behind and his smiles would come from Emmett.

His arm was draped behind her on the back of the couch. Bella eyed it indignantly.  She might as well be dead to him.

Bella shifted on the couch to lean against him. He dropped his arm and wound it around her waist. She laced his fingers through hers and pulled his arm through until their intertwined hands rested on her belly. But his attention was still on Emmett, immersed in whatever story he was telling. She tugged on his hand again. She was already as close to him as she could get without being on his lap. He gave a gentle squeeze and stroked her hand with his thumb. Bella struggled to understand why he was doing this to her. What purpose did it serve? She wished she could pry his heart open like the shell of a pomegranate, spilling out its secrets like shining red seeds.

Another Edward flickered into existence before her, among the flames of the fire. She leaned forward, drawn to the golden apparition.

“Pity,” he said with an arched eyebrow.

Bella raked her nails across Edward’s hand. He gave her another squeeze and nothing more. He gave Emmett another laugh on top of his full attention.

“You may not be able to hold the attention of the man,” the specter paused dramatically, “but you can always catch the attention of the beast.”

Bella tucked her lower lip between her teeth and chewed. She slid her teeth across the delicate surface. There was nothing for them to catch. She bit down. Hard. Edward chuckled again at Emmett, giving her the inspiration she needed to add the necessary heft to her bite.

The skin broke.

There was a sudden rush of air around her. Bella found herself perched on a rock, the sound of water rushing behind her. Edward’s visage filled her vision. His lovely, perfect face was pinched with delicious concern, all for her. His fingertips probed her skin like kisses from snowflakes.  

“Where’s the blood?”

She released her lip, showing him the bite. She couldn’t hide the grin that followed, anticipating his frenzy. She would be the only thing in his world, once again.

“How did you do that?” he murmured, mostly to himself.

The bloodthirsty vampire sat before the bleeding damsel perfectly at ease. There was no struggle to maintain composure. No internal battle. He hardly flinched.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he soothed, misinterpreting her wide-eyed horror. “I’m perfectly in control—I won’t hurt you.”

“It doesn’t bother you at all?”

He studied the little bead of blood pooling between her lips. “Of course it bothers me. I hate it when you’re hurt.”

“But… my blood. At one point you couldn’t even touch me because it merely flowed in my veins.”  

“My love,” he smiled softly, “I spent an entire day thinking I had lost you. The pain I experienced reshaped my entire being.  Like a hand that feels the heat of a flame before it can be burned, my body refuses anything that could cause such pain again. The temptation of your blood is nothing compared to the fear of losing you.”

Nothing.

The word hung in the air. Bella stared at it, dumbfounded. She used to be his everything. His love had become this sharp, slippery thing that she no longer knew how to hold.  “I want to get married.”

“We are getting married.”

Tears pooled. “Right now.”

As often as she cried these days, Edward was still not immune to her tears. He cooed and comforted. “We’re getting married. So soon. I promise. I have the venue booked for one week after graduation, just like you wanted, remember?”

The salt of her tears stung the cut on her lip. Edward watched the tears mingle with the pooling blood with eyes too black for her to read.

“I can see if I can move the date up. You’ll want to wait. Trust me. I rented Jane Austen’s house for an entire weekend. We’ll get married in the gardens. I’ll read you Mansfield Park from the desk where it was written. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bella nodded despite herself.

“Then,” Edward took her hands, “I rented a little cottage where we will stay until you’re ready to leave England. From there, we will go wherever you want. Anywhere in the world.”

“And you’ll come, too?” Bella confirmed.

“Yes, Sweetheart, that’s what I said. We will go. We. I will be there.” He looked at her as though she were branches. As though she were leaves and the sun found all the cracks in her. “Are we going to wait?”

Bella pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

Edward closed his eyes, defeated. “Is one week too far away?”

✨🌲✨

Alice flit around Bella like a hummingbird, poking and trimming and measuring. She enjoyed herself—she always liked a good challenge. There was no time to wait for the designer gown her future sister wanted to order, so she had to settle for handmade. Which suited Bella’s tastes more, anyway.

It was the day of their rehearsal dinner. A silly tradition in their case, for Bella was the only one who needed to eat. And she could only manage to stare at the mushroom ravioli Carlisle brought her. She forced a few bites under Esme’s gentle coaxing while Edward stared pointedly at a spot in the grass.

As Alice worked on the dress, Carlisle and Esme outfitted the meadow with a tent. It was going to rain on the day of their actual wedding, but Bella would not budge on the date. Every second that ticked by without a ring on Edward’s finger was another second he could escape. True, Edward’s hand was currently wrapped around hers. And he’d done everything she’d asked of him, including this wedding. And he’d given up hunting regularly to the point that his eyes were black and the circles under his eyes were the same deep purple as the flowers that fluttered around his ankles.

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until his venom ran through her veins.

“Alice, how strong will the winds be?” Esme asked.

“Not terribly,” Alice spoke around the pin between her teeth, “It’s the ground I’m worried about. The storm tonight is going to make this meadow a mud pit. That’s why you’re getting a tea-length gown, little missy.” Alice playfully flicked Bella’s ankle.

Emmett appeared in the meadow, leaving a trail of snapped branches and crushed ferns in his wake.

“Blushing bride: check,” Emmett winked as he placed a piece of paper in Bella’s hand. “Oh, wow, you guys even brought in a clown for the wedding.”

“Yeah,” Edward snatched his sheet out of Emmett’s hand, “he’s our officiant.”

Emmett cackled. “Lobbed that one over to you, buddy. So, we’re doing a pretty short ceremony, yeah? Just the vows and a kiss?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Pretty standard stuff,” Emmett commented, reviewing the pages. “Don’t you have, like, a whole book of mopey poems about her by now?”

Edward snorted.

“I want to hear what you’ve chosen to rhyme with Bella. Smell-a? Umbrella?”

“Novella!” Alice chirped from under the layers of tulle.

“Till death do us part,” Bella read from the written vows. “You’re already dead.”

“He can die again,” Emmett shrugged.

Edward tossed Carlisle a look, who immediately intervened.  “It’s a traditional line, Bella. Esme and I used it in our vows. As did the rest of your siblings.”

“It’s not good enough,” Bella shook her head. “You can claim that you’ve already died, so we can part.”

Alice’s hand stilled for a long beat.

“Okay,” Edward said, an expert on compromise at this point, “then we can use ‘as long as we both shall live.’ How’s that?”

“It’s basically the same thing,” Bella argued. “You’re dead. It’s a loophole. You can find a way out.”

“Bella, these are our wedding vows. I’m not going to want to find a way out of them.”

Bella shook her head, unconvinced. “We have to say something else.”

“As long as we’re both hot,” Emmett offered.

Alice giggled. “As long as Edward’s in khaki.”

“Edward,” Bella implored, clawing at the fabric of his sleeve. He took her hand in his before she could ruin the sweater, like the others.

“As long as we both exist,” he proposed. “As long as we breathe through our lungs. As long as my hair is red. As long as Muskrat Love is the most grating song in history. As long as you want. As long as you’re willing to accept me.”

“As long as I want?” Bella confirmed, eyebrows raised to her hairline, “That’s forever, you know.”

“For forever, then.”

Esme joined the small circle, placing a doting hand on her son’s shoulder. “Until the end of time,” she rephrased, eloquently.

The vampires looked to Bella for approval. Bella nodded, feeling not un-hopeful for the first time in a while.

✨🌲✨

A storm blew over the wedding ceremony. Bella took it well for someone with a dislike for cold, wet things.

All the Cullen’s efforts went to waste. The floral arrangements were sodden and blown apart. Alice’s dress was hidden beneath the blanket and plastic poncho Edward wrapped around Bella. Carlisle’s candles were left in their box because Bella couldn’t risk the light blowing out, no matter how much Edward reassured her the symbolatry would hold true. They said their vows with Bella pressed to Edward’s chest, her head tucked under his chin. Their kiss was brief, for Edward was already wary of the cold’s negative impact on his pale bride.

Jasper and Rosalie were noticeably not in attendance.

When it was all said and done, Edward carried Bella across the threshold of a house that was not theirs. Then, again over the threshold to his room, just to be thorough. Bella did not know where the rest of her family was. Out of the way to give them some privacy, she supposed.

Apparently, they needed it. At some point, a large poster bed was brought up to Edward’s room. Canopied with golden fabric and stuffed with far too many pillows. Bella ran her hand over the plush, gold comforter.  

“Now what?”

He chuckled affectionately. “Whatever you want, my love.”

Bella eyed the bed. It wasn’t there for her to sleep in. Even as a married woman, she had to be home by ten. Earlier, if time would allow. There was a math assignment she needed to get done before Monday and she hadn’t even looked at it yet.

Edward wrapped his arms around her.

“Have I told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are?”

He had. Though, she doubted she was the image of his ideal bride. The tea-length dress was lovely and lacey, but it showcased her bright yellow rain boots. Her hair was windblown. The wet ends stuck to her neck and exposed shoulders like seaweed.  Her new family looked upon her with more pity than pride.

“Bella,” he began, holding her hands to his heart, “I didn’t want to mention this during the vows. Such a happy occasion doesn’t deserve to be brought down by dark times. I would like to restate how sorry I am. So, so sorry.” He said so with the utmost sincerity. “I will never forgive myself for leaving you. I hope this wedding proves to you that I am here to stay.”

There was nothing for Bella to say to that. The only proof she would accept involved teeth and venom and three days of fire. But Bella could not destroy the moment with truth. The candor in his expression was sweet. In this moment, after the high of their wedding and the lure of the bed, he thought he was speaking the truth. He wasn’t thinking of several months in the future, after he grew bored of her again.

With nothing else to do, she reached back to undo the buttons on her dress.

“Oh!” Edward said. “I see. Okay. Hold on.”

He blurred behind her to assist with the buttons. Then, failed to hold back his laughter at the sight of her in only bright yellow rain boots. He apologized with kisses and managed to earn a small smile from her in the silliness of it all. He laid her on the bed, nestled against the pillows that still had the subtle pine scent of the department store. She reached for him, longing for his sweet citrusy scent to overwhelm her. He kissed her twice to hold her over until he could undress himself. Which didn’t take long. A blink and a breath, and he was beside her.

“I love you.” She nearly couldn’t get the words out. They meant more to her every time she said them. She trembled. Her body could not contain how much love it held for him.

“I love you, too” he said between desperate, deepening kisses. “Please, please know that. Please know how much I love you.”

She nodded. It barely felt like a lie.

“Thank god,” he hissed, so softly, she wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear it. Another languid kiss that left her gasping her breath. “How about a demonstration, anyway?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. The proposition was daunting. But it was another tether.

Edward navigated their lovemaking the same way he navigated the rest of their relationship: with restraint and gentleness. He prepared her body longer than necessary, coaxing soft sighs from her lips. He roused her to the point where she could only manage a whimper in response to his nearly endless stream of questions.

“Does this feel okay?” “Am I hurting you?” “Are you alright?”

Of course, her inability to articulate only made him more anxious.

When he finally entered, he did so with exaggerated slowness, cataloging her every reaction with a quick scan of her body. Bella’s eyes fluttered shut. She felt as if she were rocking on the gentle waves in placid sea. Then, the waves picked up, as if dark clouds gathered in the distance. Edward’s touch became as strong as a storm, his fingers like the shock of hail and hard rain, his breath a cold current. A wave lifted her high up into the air, like she was flying, and she came crashing down with it.

This high kept her from crying when Edward pulled away and tucked her under a pile of blankets.

“Sleep, love,” he said, stroking her face as she fought against heavy eyelids. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to bring you back.”

She shook her head.

“How about I get you some dinner, then? I don’t believe you’ve eaten today.” The bagels, fruit, tarts, cake, cheese, and veggies she’d been offered that day were sitting out somewhere, untouched.

To her surprise, a little time to herself sounded pleasant. Edward’s brief departure didn’t seem permanent. Bella couldn’t feel claws in her chest, threatening to tear her apart.

She would take a shower. The hot water would feel nice.

“Grilled cheese?” Bella requested, hoping the comfort food would prolong this warm feeling inside her.

“I’m sure someone can manage that,” Edward pressed a kiss to her cheek. “In fact, I’m certain I should be able to manage that. I’ll go to the store instead. Does that sound good?”

She nodded.

“I’ve been meaning to get better at cooking for you, anyway.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll want to care for my beautiful human wife in whatever way I can.” He kissed her lips, closing them with his as they were about to fall open.

“Until I drink blood.”

He merely smiled. The tight-lipped expression said more than his vows. “Perhaps my grilled cheeses will be so good, you won’t want to turn at all.”

He was redressed and at the window in a blur. He waved back lightly, as if he hadn’t upturned her entire world for a third time.

When Edward came into Bella’s life, he turned her into an ember glowing at the end of a candlestick. He held the power to pinch her out or light her into a flare. She felt his fingers closing around her, threatening to snuff her out.

There had to be a way to get him to change her. There was no point in anything if she didn’t get to keep him forever. One lifetime with him wasn’t enough. And they’d already lost so much of her finite time.  

Edward stood just outside the bedroom. His golden eyes smoldered. “’Oh, my love, my wife’.”

Bella clambered towards him, cold and shaking and naked. She had no idea where Alice had stashed her bag. With no other option, she pulled her wedding dress back on. Just before she reached him, he faded from view. Then reappeared at the top of the stairs. They moved through the house like this. Bella chasing; Edward disappearing when he was just within reach. During this chase, he quoted the final scene of Romeo & Juliet. His voice transformed the poetry of Romeo’s lines into a song. The words reverberated at the back of her skull.

“’I will set up my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars. From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And lips, of you. The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss'.”

At the end of their chase, Bella found herself at the entrance to the kitchen. Though it was seldom used, it was fully outfitted. The Cullens liked to have all the proper props in place.

“Thus with a kiss…” the ghost whispered in her ear.

“I die,” she finished the line.

Bella often equated her love with her favorite fictional stories. The infamous star-crossed lovers spoke to her most. She and Edward had no right to fall in love. The depth of the relationship transcended all reason. She always hoped they could bypass the tragedy with eternal life. She could see now there was no way for this to end but tragically.

Bella held one, single power over Edward. The thing that caused his anguished screams in a ballet studio. It dragged him across the ocean to Italy to beg for one of his own.

Bella continued into the kitchen. With sure, steady hands, she opened the drawer with the knives.

“'Oh, happy dagger',” she quoted. She tested the blade against her fingertip. With minimal pressure, a bead of blood appeared.

Tires squealed in the driveway. The sound of her name cracked in the air like lightning.

“'This is thy sheath',” Bella continued Juliet’s final monologue. She pressed the tip of the knife through the fabric of her dress. Then, her skin. Both white and delicate. “'There rust, and let me die'.”

“Bella?” Wood cracked and glass shattered as Edward tore through the house, reckless in his haste. “Bella!”

His impeccable face was the last thing she saw. Twisted with concern, eyes wild with worry as they took in the scene before him: his new bride in a rumpled dress, a blossom of blood over his treasured heart.

“Drink. Your. Poison.”

Bella plunged the knife deeper into her chest, crying out in pain. With it, came the sharp pierce of canine teeth against her throat.

[thesofthuman]

My mom passed away two months ago. We were all with her. The grief feels different every day and I have no idea how to explain it or convey it through any form of communication or medium. How do you explain love and terror and ache and shifting hope? I feel so lost.

I am so deeply sorry for your loss. I can't imagine how you must be feeling. I have always had a hard time explaining what comes with grief. I don't think most of us know how to talk about it or feel it all the way or ask for what we may need during it. I had my own meeting with grief a few months back and I had a hard time sitting with it. I had a hard time feeling it while still needing to go to work and celebrate things and live my full life. It was hard to make time to get to know it, hard to let it come up and make me feel when it wanted to. So I took out my journal one day and I imagined that grief had a physical form and it came into my home to have a conversation. I wrote it all out as I felt it, as I imagined it would be. Grief took its time sitting next to me. We sat on the couch together. It was quiet, and it respected me. I think it loved me, too. It wasn't mean. Just heavy. It appeared to me in the shape of a person, but it was a dark endless pool of water. I looked into it and saw a deep blue forever. I tried to write out what we would say to each other. I expressed my pain, my anger, asked my questions to it. But it didn't say anything back. It didn't have anything to say. But it was compassionate in its silence. It seemed patient. I don't think much was said on my part either, because what is there to say to grief? The deepest silent feeling. I still don't know how to explain any of it. The bubbling up of love that comes with grief. The intense need to touch something that you can't touch again. The everything that comes with it. Someone once said grief is love in a heavy coat. I don't know who said it but they were right. I'm sorry for the heavy coat you have to wear. I hope you may find the words, at least some of them. <3

[m0chaminx]

Gar Logan | Stay

*•.¸♡Request: @cjisbored , thanks love

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: mentions of violence and death

*•.¸♡Paring: Gar Logan x GN!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: You comformt Gar after his experience with CADMUS (just a whole bunch of comfort fluff)

*•.¸♡Words: 635

Gar sat alone in the training room, the cuffs of his green jacket pulled past over his hands. You stood by the door, fingers tapping against the wooden frame, not loud enough to disturb Gar. You took a nervous breath and that's when Gar looked up, slightly glancing over his shoulder. "I can hear you," Gar called softly. "Your hearts racing."

Your hand fell from the door frame and walked over to Gar, sitting beside him on the small steps that led to the sparring space. You ran your hands over your denim jeans and glanced up at Gar. It was only the two of you now that would really use the training room. Kory, Dick and Conner would have no use for it, Rose left a few days after Donna's memorial dinner, and so did Hank and Dawn.

You wouldn't use the training room as much, but every now and then when you'd walk past you'd see Gar. Sometimes he would lazily puch one of the heavy bags other days he would just sit, staring at the unused training weapons.

"Can I ask you something?" Your voice came out as a whisper. Gar nodded softly but his eyes stayed forward, staring at nothing. "How are you? After everything that happened with Donna... and CADMUS, I haven't really asked you about it."

It's not that you and Gar weren't close, you were. You had met him, Kory and Rachel, when Dick asked you to get them safely to Rachel's mother's house and you had been around ever since. You tried to keep Gar as safe as possible but when Dick told everyone the truth about Jerico you couldn't stay in the tower anymore and you followed Hank and Dawn until you got a weird text from Gar about Conner. When you got back to the tower you met with Donna and you both investigated the broken tower.

When you found Gar's bloody hand prints, it felt like your world sunk and when you found he was alive but under the control of a Lex Lab corporation you didn't know what to do. Somehow in the haze of Gar's mind control, you were able to reach out and find him again, though not with the close tiger bite to your left arm. Since then, you hadn't really talked to Gar.

"I didn't mean to bite you," Gar said softly, his voice slightly horse. "I didn't mean to do any of it..."

You shuffled closer to Gar and ran your hand down his arms. "None of it was your fault Gar. None of it was you. CADMUS did some weird experiments on you Gar, you couldn't have stopped it. We... I left you here alone."

"I didn't want to hurt anyone." Gar's jaw clenched as he let out a shaky breath, his arms coming up to hug his knees. "You say it wasn't me, but it feels like it was."

"I'm not saying you can't feel it. I'm just saying it wasn't your fault, you have every right to feel however you want." Gar nodded softly, his expression filled with understanding and empathy. 

You allowed yourself to surrender to the weight of your emotions, leaning your head against his sturdy shoulder, seeking solace and comfort in his presence. With a gentle touch, your hand traversed the expanse of his broad back, its warmth radiating through your fingertips. Each movement conveyed unspoken words of support and solidarity, silently affirming the profound connection between you. In that tender moment, you found solace in the simple yet profound act of physical closeness, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders.

"Can you stay with me for a bit?" You nodded softly, his green hair rubbing against your head.

"I'll stay as long as you need."

ﾟ°☆Page Navigation

[witherby]

format as in a way of writing!

like do you write much in a paragraph or not?

how do you think it’s aesthetically pleasing?

—🦈

Ah, okay! So, I've spent a lot of time reading and writing since I was, like, 8. I also took a Creative Writing minor in college to help me polish up a big chunk of my missing skills. At this point, what I lack isn't so much technique as it is..um...skill. LMAO. So please take this with a grain of salt!

The point is, there is a "right" way and a "wrong" way to structure your stories. The people who tell you otherwise are being very kind, but not realistic. The biggest things you have to keep track of when you structure your stories are ideas, vocabulary, and dialogue.

This post is long and kind of preachy. Forgive me for that; I'm trying to answer you as best and earnestly as I can.

So, let's process ideas, first. You'll notice that I've started a new paragraph to cover this topic for you, because it is its own category and therefore doesn't make sense to lump together with the other two points mentioned above. If you're trying to convey an idea or a subject or a topic in an understandable way, you wanna keep the parts that are related to that idea/subject/topic together. If you don't have a lot to say about a thing, your paragraph about it is going to be smaller. If you have a lot to say about a thing, your paragraph is going to be bigger. This paragraph, for example, conveying information to you about conveying your ideas properly, is kinda long, which is normal and bound to happen sometimes. Your paragraphs don't all have to be of equal length from start to end.

Let's discuss vocabulary, next. Word choice is everything, in my opinion. The difference between "transparent" and "diaphanous" may not literally be much, but one of those words is definitely more well-known and easier to understand than the other. Don't assume your readers are babies and only give them tiny words to work with, yet do not presume that witnesses to your chronicles cling to an intellectual high ground on the contrary. You need just enough to draw people in, but not too much that it'll bore them and not so little that they're missing crucial story components. I advise cracking open a thesaurus and playing around with your word choices until you find a balance that makes you happiest.

Finally, let's touch on dialogue. "Dialogue?" You ask. "Yes," I say. "What do you mean?" You ask again. "I mean that there are two components at play for dialogue, and this paragraph is a glaring example."

"Every time a different character speaks, it is a new thought being expressed," I elaborate.

"What's that mean for me?" You might ask.

"It means," I say, "that a new thought gets a new paragraph. Now, if it's the same person speaking, you can let them ramble for a while and not create a new paragraph, because the reader inherently understands that it's the same person the whole time. But the second one is done, and another speaks instead, you need to visualize that change with the start of a new paragraph. You need to create that separation."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Even for one-word answers? Replies so quick that they're barely anything?"

"Even then."

In summary, you can dress up your stories any way you want, with italics or big letters or small letters or pictures or borders, to your heart's content. It could be the prettiest post I've ever seen in my life. It's not gonna mean a thing if the work doesn't follow a smooth transition of subject, utilizes good verbiage, and has easy-to-follow dialogue, though.

Of course there are exceptions to these rules, because writing is not black and white. We wouldn't have poetry otherwise. But that would require much more typing and ranting and I've already gone on long enough. Practice is going to be your biggest teacher, but these are some good foundational points to keep in mind as you create.

I hope this was useful!

[scullymurphy]

I’ve just finished BL/FD and they have moved to the top of my all time favorite fanfics. I am going to immediately reread them because the stories and characters were so rich and so moving. I have felt all the feels while reading these stories.

I never knew how much I needed a Hermione/Lavender BFF love story until you gave it to me! She has now become one of my favorite characters. I adore the friendship they built through these two stories. What a beautiful balance and compliment they were to each other!

The dual POV kept me on the edge of my seat and rooting for Draco and Hermione throughout. The tension and attraction and passion you were able to convey was palpable. The pain and angst of the love triangle felt so very real. I think it triggered my own memories of that time in life.

And Theo…my god, Theo! 😍🥹

I didn’t think anyone could replace Draco or Rhysand as my absolute favorite book boyfriend and then you gave me this version of Theo. This funny, beautiful, vulnerable, supportive gem of a human and now I have an obsession with Theo. I can’t get enough of him!

While I ultimately knew he would end up with Daphne and Draco would end with Hermione, and that was as it should be, I was absolutely devastated when things ended between him and Hermione. It brought me to literal tears when he left her to go and comfort Daph bc I knew it was the beginning of the end. They were just so good together. 🥹

With Lavender’s divination background and her cryptic statements about choosing a different path I kept wondering if there would be an epilogue or extra Lavender POV chapter where she has a vision of H and T choosing each other and what that path would have looked like. Does that exist somewhere and I just haven’t found it yet?

This is how consumed I’ve been with this story…I had a dream last night that there was an epilogue that flashed forward like 30 something yrs. After long and beautiful marriages, T & H have both become widowed and they find comfort and healing with one another again. Their paths finally reunite and their love story has its turn. But alas I woke up, finished the book and it was not to be.

All this to say, I would love for you to revisit this world again some day. These characters are beautifully written! I love them all! Thank you

Thank you SO MUCH for this beautiful comment. I can't tell you how much it means to me that the stories touched you in this way. You even DREAMED about them! And to class my Theo with Rhysand!!?? I die! I die! I love Rhys so much too -- it's kind of a problem because I compulsively re-read his scenes. In fact, I read the ACOTAR series right around the time I was writing BL and FD, so there may be a little of Rhys's charm in Theo! I like this theory...

And as for your questions and intuitions about the continuation of this story, I can tell you that I do have a pretty strong headcanon for what happens down the road. I even have a rough outline/zero draft of what could be a third installment someday. I'm still waiting for the time to be ripe to start writing it, although I can't definitively promise it will ever happen. Part of me thinks I should just leave it as-is and let everyone have their own ideas about how it turns out. Also, I'm currently shopping an OC novel around for representation, drafting another OC romance, and preparing to launch a detective noir Dramione multi-chap WIP tomorrow (you heard it here first!!). So my plate is pretty full, lol. But someday, maybe someday. I do miss that world so much and would love to hang out with those characters again.

Anyway, thanks again for coming all the way to Tumblr to tell me that you loved the stories. Your words really touched me. 🥰🥹 xoxo ~ Scully

[fieldofdaisiies]

gwyn x balthazar | 3,2k words | warnings: NSFW content | masterlist

"I think I would like to try something." Gwyn inhales deeply. "I want to make you feel good." Gwyn's head stays on Balthazar's shoulder as her fingers gently brush over his chest, tracing a delicate path across his skin. "But only if you want that."

Gwyn stifles a giggle when she feels him shudder a little beneath her soft caress. No doubt he has not expected that. 

Balthazar's skin is so smooth, so soft and yet solid due to the hard muscles underneath the surface. She finds the tattoos on his chest, those deep swirls of ink, mesmerising and intriguing at once, could look at them for hours. At him, actually. He is just so beautiful. "What are you thinking about?" Balthazar whispers, his tone so low and hoarse it makes Gwyn's toes curl. She tips her head just a little bit, so she can glimpse up at him. "You," she whispers. "Only you and how I can make you feel good."

Colour blooms high on her cheeks, eyes sparkling like the sun-kissed sea. 

"I am already feeling very good." Balthazar does not want to pressure her into anything. She should only do what she wants and feels comfortable with. He doesn't want to her to think she has to do these things. He has no expectations at all, an if holding her in her arms if the most of intimacy they will ever have, he would also gladly accept that. Because nothing feels more right or perfect than having her here, holding her. 

"I want it." Leaning in, her lips brush over his neck, kissing him softly right below his ear. She wants to touch him, wants to make him feel good, wants to show him just how much he means to her and she wants to go this step with him. "But I need you to guide me, show me what you like."

Balthazar's body goes a little rigid. He has touched himself before, but he doubts it comes anywhere close to what Gwyn is about to do. 

Her tender touch speaks volumes, conveying affection and passion as she lets the tips of her fingers dance over the hard ridges of his of his lower chest. Sculpted with defined contours and chiseled muscles, his rippled pecs and the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles, his chest embodies nothing but strength and grace and Gwyn finds herself marvelling at her lover's torso more than she likes to admit. 

Her hand descends with a feather-light caress, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"You are so hard," Gwyn mumbles, grinning to herself at the innuendo. 

Balthazar's head falls, and he breathes out a little groan. "Gods, I am."

Gwyn's eyes land on the the small tent that that has formed in the bedsheet and she knows exactly that Balthazar is not talking about his chest. And she likes it. Likes that he does not hide how much he wants her, how much her touch does to him. But at the same time, despite his strong desire and need, he won't push her to anything. 

I would wait my whole lifetime for you, Gwyneth. We do this at your pace, and your pace only.  

The world around them fades into insignificance, as Gwyn lets her hand reach the edge of the blanket.

Gwyn looses a long breath and then meets his eyes. "I have never…" You swallows, a lump the size of peach suddenly clogging her throat. Her eyes close. "I have never seen a naked male."

"Good," Balthazar rasps and it steals a giggle from Gwyn. Gods, those Illyrians are truly territorial. 

"Could you undress for me. I would like to… see you." 

He understands. Understands what he should do without her going into more detail. Balthazar wiggles his arm free and climbs off the bed. He never breaks eye-contact with her, not even when he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his sleeping pants, waiting. 

His thin linen sleeping pants do nothing to hide the growing erection, and something low in Gwyn's belly tightens. The wingspan of a male says a lot about other parts. 

An involuntary giggle parts her lips and she quickly folds her hands over her hot face. 

Balthazar huffs, his face laced with confusion. "Please, tell me you are not laughing at my—" "I would never!" Gwyn quickly says and removes her hands from her face. "I just remembered something that made me laugh." "Do I want to know?" Balthazar raises a brow, trying to hold her gaze. 

Her eyes sparkle with admiration and mischief and she grins. "Mor told me some interesting information." Her grin spreads even wider, reaching from one ear to the other. She feels the heat from her cheeks, knowing they are probably the colour of beetroot red. 

"Namely, that the wingspan of a male says a lot about other body parts of him."

A whole-hearted laugh leaves Balthazar, reverberating through the whole room and bouncing of the walls. The muscles in his chest flex, his wings flaring before he folds them back in. 

"So, that is what you are talking about at your sleepovers, huh?" He raises a teasing brow, loving how her blush intensifies. With innocent eyes she keeps her gaze locked with his. "Maybe?"

"Well, I guess this is upon you to judge then…how big my wingspan is." The stress he puts on big doesn't go unnoticed by Gwyn and she feels how dampness slicks between her thighs.

"Yes?"

Gwyn nods and he pulls, letting his pants drop, pooling around his ankles. 

The breath catches in Gwyn's throat. She finds it hard to swallow, to breathe, to think. And she shudders. Not out of fear or worry, because of the wave of arousal flooding her. He is still only half-hard, but she marvels at his length, his girth. Wingspan definitely says a lot about certain body parts! Balthazar is beautiful. 

The heat in her eyes, the twin flames of teal fire burning there make him grow hard in an instant. 

"You are beautiful," Gwyn breathes, having sat up slightly, balancing her weight on the hand she braces on the bed. She swallows thickly. His length long and thick, with a slight curve and a very visible vein. Gwyn shakes her head, her eye already glazed-over, cheeks hot and rosy.

She reaches out a hand. "Come."

Balthazar once again follows her request, stopping mere inches from the bed and her. Gwyn lets her finger tips run over his abdomen, his skin prickling at her touch, growing taut. "Breathtaking," she whispers and leans in to kiss his belly. 

The soft brush of her lips makes him shudder, his wings twitching behind his back, cock throbbing. He cradles her face in his broad hand and tips her chin up. "Gwyneth," he whispers, not sure about what he actually planned to say to her. She holds his gaze, her eyes glossy and shifts back on the bed. 

"Do you…" A sheepish smile spreads over her face. Balthazar joins her on the bed again, kneeling in front of her. "Do you pleasure yourself?"

He leans in, and when he is mere inches from her lips he turns his head and kisses her cheek. Gwyn sucks in a sharp breath. Tease, she thinks and loves this side of him so much. 

His lips coasting from her cheek down to her jaw to the shell of her ear, he whispers, "Yes." He places a feather-light kiss to her skin. "And before you ask, yes…thinking about you."

Now, Gwyn is the one to shudder again. 

Stroking along the edge of her cheek, Balthazar dives his fingers into her silken, copper stands and tips her chin up so he can kiss her on her mouth now. "It is always you. Every thought, every day, it is always about you."

Gwyn braces her hands on his hips, leaning into him and into the kiss, hands slowly stroking upwards. They move to lie down in bed again, not once breaking the kiss. 

"Do you really want this? We can stop here?" Balthazar breathes against her hair once she is nuzzled against his chest again, her hand idle stroking up and down his strong thigh. 

"I want this, I really do," Gwyn tells him. "But I need you to show me what you like? How you do it."

Something big is going to happen. This is a tremendous step for both of them — she wants to do it right. 

Balthazar follows her request, the arm he has no curled around her lifting. He wraps his large hand around his shaft, fingers easily curling around it, stroking a few times. Gwyn watches him, mouth watering at the sight. Gods and Cauldron have mercy on her — the sight is so sinful. Her flesh heats, eyes glazing over anew. Her chest heaves and falls with deep breathes. 

Lifting herself onto her elbow, she leans over him, her eyes meeting his, locking. "Thank you," she whispers and leans in to kiss his lips. "For everything. For being here for me. For letting me experience everything with you. For going slow with me. For letting me do this right now." Balthazar smiles sheepishly, his expression almost a little plagued, and his chest heaves with a deep inhale. "You never have to thank me for something like that."

The next kiss is deeper, filled with more hunger, his tongue parting her slightly swollen lips, brushing her gums, devouring her mouth. "There is only one thing I need you to know now…before we go further." He is still stroking himself, Gwyn's hand mere inches from his cock.

"Tell me." Gwyn looks expectant when she pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their mouths. 

"Illyrians are territorial, madly territorial. Even more than fae. What is ours is only ours, and no ones else's to touch or even look at." He swallows. Gwyn is still looking at him, her gaze not wavering, but she feels her heart speed up. 

"If you…if we do this now, if you touch my cock, your are mine and that until the rest of our life. There will be no other male, Gwyneth. And there will be no other female for me. You will be mine."

Technically, this territorial behaviour should turn her off…but only technically. Right in this moment, his wording, the tone in which he said it, turns her molten. She shivers and feels her heart flutter within her chest. The priestess sucks in a sharp breath, and nods. "I am already yours, Lord Balthazar."

She slides her hand over his, almost in taunting way, and so very slow, letting him guide her two times and then he removes his hand. Gwyn's breath catches. He is hard, rock hard, but his skin is soft, almost velvety. She strokes him on time, marvelling at his girth, fingers merely reaching around him. 

Balthazar's leg jerks up, and he braces his foot on the ground, lifting his hand to place it on his forehead, eyes closed. "Fuck!" he groans, the sound edging on a growl. "You are my end."

Gwyn grins to herself and gives him a firm stroke, watching his reaction to her doing so, his body still rigid, but he slowly starts to fall apart. His rock hard chest heaves with deep inhales, a thin film of sweat coating his tanned skin and then tendrils of dark ink. Balthazar's hand pushes his chocolaty curls back, yet the topple over his hand. He is gorgeous, there is no other word to describe him. 

Gwyn feels how his cock pulses in her hold, and she collects the bead of pre-come that has gathered at the tip of it. Balthazar holds his breath and only looses it after calling upon all his restraints to not thrusts his hips up, fucking her hand so hard she can't use it for the next days. 

"Kiss me," he says, hoping to direct some of his energy to his mouth, and pour it into the kiss. 

Using his arm, he tucks her close, letting her slide up on him, her hand braced next to his chest, her other hand still stroking him, squeezing. Gwyn is not quite sure if what she does it completely correct, but the way his body reacts to her touches, and the sounds that leave him tell her it is close to perfect and she likes this. Like this a lot. And she likes having control. 

Balthazar groans into the kiss, sending vibrations throughout her while body, the muscles in his butt flexing, just like the ones in his abdomen. 

Desire and passion are acute on both sides when Gwyn curls her hand tighter around him and bites down on his lip. He looses a long breath, chest leaving and falling. “Fuck yes.”

He throws his head back, breaking the kiss. "Fuck, my little River-nymph, you have idea what your touch does to me." A lazy grins spread over his face. "Can you go a little faster?"

Of course, Gwyn thinks and follows his request and also chases his lips. She wants to kiss him, she never wants their lips to be apart from each other for longer than a second. 

"Just like that, Gwyneth. Just like that. Taking me so well."

She kisses him with wanton need, teeth clashing, Balthazar's hand threading into her silken strands of copper her. He feels how release gathers in his spine, tumbling towards the edge. Her taste is intoxicating, the hold she has on him close to divinity. If only her hand already creates such please, what will her mouth? Her…cunt feel like. Balthazar almost sees stars at the thought of that, her wet heat wrapped around his cock, her bouncing on his lap, riding him, her breasts…

He slams the hand that is not occupied with her hair down onto mattress, grabbing the sheets tightly, knuckles turning white. 

Gwyn’s thoughts start to stray. She wants to feel this hand on her body. All over her, grabbing her, holding her, fondling her breasts. She wants to feel him, his skin against hers without a piece of clothing between them. Maybe not today, not now, but soon. She is ready. The thought of him touching her, grabbing her, holding her, feels alright. It does not scare her, it only makes her feel more aroused than she already is. Her undergarments are soaked, and she knows that he can most definitely scent it, and he should. He should see how he makes her feel, how much she wants him, how big her desire for him is. And that he makes her feel comfortable enough to let her desire show, to give in to her passion and need. She knows she has arrived. She knows that this male is her forever. 

Balthazar has given her time and space to figure this out, to find out what she wants and she wants this. This moment is perfect. He is! She brings Balthazar pleasure which is amazing and wonderful, but it means much more to her. She is intimate with a male, and nothing about it feels wrong, or scary, it only feels good. 

“Ugh, fuck—“ The Illyrian pulls tugs on her hair, his hips jerking and he thrusts into her hands. "I am close…"

She knows this, feels it — feels how he twitches in her hand. 

His eyes are ablaze with lust, his damp curls sticking to his forehead, his glorious chest heaving with deep inhales, the dark inked curls standing out and with one more deep inhale, he tips over the edge, and comes with a growl and her name on his lips. 

Without a second of hesitation he reaches for his discarded shirt and hands it to Gwyn so she can clean up her hand and also him. She silently regards the male that looks like he has entered sweet oblivion, fully blissed out. He reaches his hand forward, places it on Gwyn's cheek, thumb stroking over skin, their eyes locked. “I am in love you, Gwyneth,” he says when he kisses her nose. "I know this is soon, maybe way too soon, but I—"

"I am in love with you, Balthazar." "She kisses him, deeply, her face pressed against his. "I truly am."

After many more kisses, Balthazar climbs of the bed. Then, shoulders squared, chest out, he strolls back to the bed, Gwyn is sprawled on. He chuckles and then, as if she is as light as a feather, sweeps her up into his strong arms. The priestess squeaks in surprise, hand perched on his shoulder, forehead lying in furrows. "What are you doing?" she asks, but gets no answer. 

He carries Gwyn to the small bathroom, careful to not make them bump against any wall or doorframe. 

“I will run you a bath." He kisses the side of her head. "I will bath after you, we need to save water up here so, please, don’t drain the tub.” Balthazar places her on the ground, her mouth gaped. She tries to find the right words, but can't. Especially not after getting a glimpse of his nude backside, nothing but corded muscles, in both his legs and back, and his rear…perfection. In all his nude glory he struts over to the tub and turns it on, the water rushing into it. Then he collects two soft towels and places them on the edge of the tub. 

“Take your time, I have some soaps there, I hope you like the scents. My sister said you will like them. I have ones that smell like oranges and and others like lavender.” 

A smile spreads over Balthazar’s face and he leans in to press a kiss to Gwyn's mouth. When he wants to leave, she does not allow so, curling her arms around his strong torso and burying her face in his chest. “I like you so much,” she mumbles, the back of her throat aching when tears start to build up in her eyes. 

She has thought that Balthazar maybe wants more, wanting to bathe with her, but he didn't even mention this option. It might have crossed his mind, but it is her choice once again. And as much as Gwyn would like to do a little more, she also wants to give herself a little more time. Also a little more time to really let him touch her. 

She is not fully there yet and this evening has already been close to perfection, this is enough. Gwyn grins and then realises that this evening actually has been perfect, everything about it has been. The cherry on top — he is in love with her! Balthazar is in love with her!

Balthazar kisses the top of her head, then her forehead and lastly her nose. “Enjoy your bath, my little River- nymph.”

He is nearly out of the door, takes step back, the muscles in shoulders arms flexing and then he spreads his wings. They almost reach the entire length of the room and Balthazar wears a mischievous grin on his lips, purely male pride glowing in his hazel eyes. "Did you get the wingspan theory confirmed, Gwyneth?"

~~~~~~~

tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

[lazzarella]

Okay, I LOVED this week's ep! Like, this was almost everything I love about this show and I felt like it had a really good balance between Dee's life and Yak's and their life together 🥰🥰🥰

Anyway. Note time!:

- Yak resting his head in Dee's lap <33 I like that it's kind of a parallel to the first night Dee stayed over at Yak's, except it's not to show off to anyone, just for themselves

- he's fully charged! lol gosh, Yak is such a baby with Dee and I love it

- "Thank you, boyfriend" followed promptly by a forehead flick XD they're both tenacious and stubborn! lol but Dee isn't denying anything verbally now—progress!

- and some boxing...

- Team Yoryak! Yay!

- hi there, Ice Bear! I love that he's almost like a background character in this to me <3 always there with a :\ on his face

- several days later and Yak is still at Dee's—I love how he it's like he lives there at least half the time, if not more

- THEY ARE CLOWNS! JFC. Lmaooooo at them putting each other's noses on while gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. I can't XD

- you know what, cute is not the word I'd use right now, but Dee is very much in love, so...

- actually, okay, they are still cute, wtf lol

- THEIR CLOWN NOSES TOUCHING! I'm wheezing

- anyway, it was obviously going to be them dressing up for the kids at the hospital, but I'm glad they took the time to get a little weird about it lmao

- ahhh! Cher and Yei are there too! <33

- aww! Yak has flowers for Dee! And the kids are cheering! And lol ofc Ter walks past at that moment haha

- ahhh, Yak called Dee teerak <333

- poor Taem! I still find it kind of weird how I guess she likes Yak now, but even if it seems out of left field to me, I feel bad for her!

- and now the vending machine isn't working! What a day!

- argh, stay away from Taem, Ter! At least she looks put off

- (...that height difference, though! 👀 are they in anything together as a couple, because I would watch)

- I'm so glad we're getting some hospital stuff this ep! I was worried it was going to become the Yak show completely lol

- awww! The kids giving Yak stuff in support is so cute!! Of course they love him, he's a sweetheart

- "Let's have one of our own" aww! Saw that coming lol

- omg, Yak worrying about disappointing the kids if he loses! Damn! That boy is just a bundle of muscle and insecurities with a big big heart <33 I love that Dee told him to stop worrying about disappointing other people, though

- "You're making me blush" hehe

- seriously, though, I know most people are going to hate that Dee hasn't said they're boyfriends yet, but he's no longer saying they aren't—he's deflecting but not as vehemently

- back hugs! Yay!

- that whole bit where Yak says he's scared of not getting Dee's love if he loses and how they've only had good days so far—it's interesting how he's more open about his insecurities than Dee and I think I had something else to say but I slept since I wrote these notes

- all the kisses! Ahhh! What a cute scene! Yak is SO demanding, but that's kind of their thing—Dee pretends to be reluctant (with some things) while Yak pouts and coaxes XD

- hey! an update on the scholarship! Finally lol

- aww, a head pat from Kao! That was sweet :3 I do wish we had more scenes with him

- KAO HAS A DATE! HUZZAH!

- omg, Title looks SO handsome! Love his styling here <3

- hehe, Yak speaking English :3

- I like that the nightmare theme continues because it's not something that goes away easily

- but DAMN! He really thinks it's his fault his mum died?? Is that what his murmuring was meant to indicate? And the flashback dream where he says he never did anything right—bloody hell. I'm glad he has Dee to hug him because he needs it

- I need a hug from Dee too tbh

- "I want to be with you more" awwwwww

- okay "waiii" (sp?) is such a cute sound XD I love the different...I think the term might be paralinguistic sounds? But I love the different sounds different languages have to convey meaning without words. Thai has some fun ones!

- "This is enough for me" aww! <33 not for me, though lmao jk, but I wouldn't mind one more raunchy scene... Just saying. But they're so sweet, I'm happy to watch them just stare at each other

- that whole bed scene was lovely and I wanted to note everything down, but I also didn't want to miss anything

- also I love that there was more repetition in this scene again!! Going around the spiral

- Yak's bosom is SO distracting

- also, damn, he's a stubborn boy lol

- oh no, what if the operation is the same date as the match??

- ...and of course it is! lol

- Dee chucking Yak under the chin!!! I'm so weak for that gesture!

- anyway, Dee will obviously either not get there in time or make a dramatic entrance at the eleventh hour like Yak did at the ball lol

- "My power levels are off the charts" hehe

- CHER! OMG! He's so funny lmao his 'shipper heart' 🤣🤣

- "Follow him, son" lmaoooo

- hee, the little sound when Yei pulled Cher's stool toward him <3 I do love when he manhandles Cher 🙈

- Ah, I love a splitscreen moment!

- oh no! The brothers are making me cry again! 😫

- Lots of brown and beige clothes this ep...

- meh, operation stuff bores me too XD

- lmao, I love how I totally forgot that the beginning was a cold opening (with Yei and Cher looking for Yak) and the rest is a flashback until we see them looking for him again

- lying to your psych! Nice one, Yak! (We've all been there, right? ...right?)

- (Actually, IDK. I've withheld plenty, though, that I wasn't ready to talk about but that's actually fine—like literally fine, my psychs have all said so lol)

- okay, Mr Nazgûl/Grim Reaper is kind of freaking me out haha I still think it's Yak under there, like that Kermit meme—like it's just IDK a manifestation of his guilt and stuff

- oh! Dee's mentor/supervisor/senior was Yak's mum's doctor!

- lmao! Car troubles! Of course!

- Ter to the rescue? Hmmm

- "This feels like a sitcom" haha I love Yak

- Run, Dee, Run!

- I just want to take a moment to say I love Dee so much <3

- TAEM! Yay!

- DEE MADE IT! Phew (of course he was going to haha)

- "I'm here, Big Bunny" kljsdflksjdflksjflksdjfkldsjfd

- Yak crying because he thought Dee wouldn’t make it and Dee gently cradling his face Omg 😭😭😭

- KISSIES! And everyone cheering!

- Oh! It's the end lol

- I guess they won't be official boyfriends until the end haha that's going to annoy a lot of people, but I love it! And, like, I did partly expect he was going to say something about Yak being his boyfriend when he showed up at the match, but I also think that would've distracted Yak too much? But, either way, I like things getting dragged out like this XD

- anyway, looks like we're getting the Yei/Cher wedding next week like people predicted—maybe in the time skip?

- bring on next week! I'm not sure if I'm ready for this to end, or not, though

[undomesticated-animal]

Domi I feel like you would appreciate the following exchange:

Me: oh I just realized... academic with a dumbification kink... make them explain their research while progressively making it harder for them to talk

Beloved: ok, kind of hot

M: we can do that. eating you out while you explain death politics to me... or we could do that the other way around

B: I was in a group therapy you can't do that to meeeee now I want to eat you out while you explain sociology to meeeee. Would be kind of sexy to hear you talk about queer sociology with my mouth on you.

M: holy shit I could explain Bersani while orgasming... do you know how many LAYERS that has..... (you don't! YET!)

guess I'm off to brush up on Is The Rectum A Grave!

Holy fucking shit YuP, I was **literally** just talking to a girl (goddddd I will need to talk more about THAT later, so fun) who has been doing adult streaming for a while and we were joking about "okay but what if you like. Made people listen to you talk about socio-economic policies whenever you let them grab your tits? Like what if you just get a bunch of motherfuckers going actually I think the anarcho-tranny has a point by playing on their desperate fetishization of our bodies???" And I'm only like 57% sure either of us was joking lmao

Also: on my dating profile for like a year has been the question "if rigorous debate and dissection of an idea is foreplay, what's your opening move" and so far the only person who has actually engaged with the question with any legitimacy has been A) Stud (lol she and I have used ideological debate as foreplay for as long as we've been fucking) and B) Bear (they said that he would want to explain his theories about the evolution of video gaming console controllers). Absolutely no one else will even touch it. Which is a shame! Because it's sooooo fucking hot when people do lmao

So like. Here's the thing about bimbofication right? It makes me sooooooo fucking blushy. I regularly joke that I will never escape the bimbo allegations, no matter how many degrees I manage to get. And there is literally nothing hotter to me than when Stud is teasing me about being her cute, brainless slut when I'm just casually being super academic about something and then the words drop out from me. Way easier not to get frustrated about my increasing aphasia when every time it happens Stud's like "aw, baby did you get to distracted being horny to keep thinking? It's okay, we both know how smart you are, you don't have to actually BE smart" and OOOOOOF

Panty melt, every time

Stud did actually do what you're describing too lmao, back when I was still in school I think? Or maybe during my med certs. I needed to be able to remember SO much and I was having a hard time, so she was like "okay. As long as you keep getting study review answers right, I keep sucking your dick. You get one wrong, I stop until you get it right" and ohhhhhhh my god she would tease me when I got it wrong and sometimes I would get so worked up I couldn't POSSIBLY get anything right, at which point she was like "well then my brainless slut can't cum until it finds the right answers" and let me tell you. Getting fucked into the mattress that day was wild lmao

Anyway, I guess the point of what I'm saying is that the kink of bimbofication and a contrast kink go REALLY well together, because watching a person who definitely knows what they're talking about slowly lose control of their ability to convey meaning with intention is possibly the hottest mitzvah any of us will ever witness. Go forth and revel in the feral nature of desire my beloveds, I'm so fucking proud of you all