#the feeling of arms around one momentarily before crashing to the ground

[qaanngi]

A spot of practice 🐦‍⬛⚔️🐦‍⬛

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, anxiety, reader is neurodivergent

There’s a splitting headache pounding behind your eyes. 

It’s the only thing you can focus on for the first five minutes of being awake, reconciling it with queasiness, the ache of your joints. You feel like you drank an entire vat of vodka. 

Jesus. How did you even get ho-

Oh god. 

Oh my god. 

Fragments of last night come rushing back, shattered clips out of order and full of nonsense, things that make no sense. Improbable things. 

Captain Riley dressing you in his t-shirt. 

Captain Riley holding your chin while he brushes your teeth. 

Captain Riley wiping your make up off.

Captain Riley putting you in bed. 

With him. Putting you in bed, with him. 

The fabric of your dress, black with little blue and purple flowers, catches your eye. It’s sitting neatly on top of a dresser with your bra, your shoes just below, placed side by side, and the world crashes down around you. It shifts and shudders, reality roaring into focus. 

This is his room. His house. His bed. 

Your stomach turns, nausea swelling into a wave that washes over you, forcing you from the bed to the bathroom on stumbling, heavy legs, snatching your clothes on the way, throwing them to the ground as you lean over the toilet and lose what’s in your stomach, bile and water, the burn pulling tears from your eyes. 

What did you do?

Shame rips through you like a knife, stabbing you between the ribs hard enough to make you ache. Humiliation, that’s what this is. You’re humiliated. Humiliated that you drank so much he had to take you home from the bar. Humiliated you couldn’t brush your own teeth or wash your face or change your clothes or put yourself in bed, humiliated you turned into an irresponsible, drunken mess. A burden. 

You’re in his house, his room, his bed, your secret fantasies crumbled away into one big nightmare. 

He’ll never look at you the same way again. 

You know what will happen now, of course. He’ll stop coming by the shop, or if he doesn’t, he’ll just stick to polite conversation. He won’t text you, and anything you send will be responded to with clipped, brief responses.

It always ends this way for one reason or another, but this, blacking out and making a fool of yourself, is certainly a first. 

A first you had with Captain Riley. The man you’ve spent every waking minute thinking about for months. 

Dumb. So dumb. 

You turn the sink on. Rinse and spit. Wash your hands. Splash your face with cold water, and then do it again, letting it mix with your tears, trying to use the shock of the temperature to slow your spiraling anxiety, your descent into madness.  

The fabric of your dress on your skin and the sight of his t-shirt crumpled on the ground, still warm from your body, nearly drives you to hysteria. 

You ruined it. 

Knuckles knock against the bathroom door, and then he’s calling your name. 

Your heart drops. 

The bathroom window is too small to crawl out of, but you did see a pretty big one in his bedroom. Maybe… 

“Open the door sweetheart.” You can do this. Just rip the bandaid off. Get it over with. You pull it wide, momentarily blindsided by what’s on the other side, Captain Riley in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt, steam rising from a mug in his hand. A normal sized mug that for some reason, looks like a child’s toy. His gives you a once over before trapping you in his gaze, so deadly serious it keeps you rooted to the floor as he deposits the mug on the sink and pulls you close, warm palm settling on the side of your neck. “Were you sick?” 

“No.” You croak, the lie is blatantly obvious based on the smell in the bathroom alone. His eyes narrow. 

“Try again.” You can’t force yourself to say it, so you nod miserably. “Oh baby,” He tugs you into his arms, cupping the back of your head into his chest. “Why didn’t you call for me?” Jesus. Christ. He pities you. 

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

He’s being so nice, it makes it all worse. Makes the ache spread all the way to your heart where it pounds so loud you’re sure he can feel it. ‘U-uh, I… I…” 

The severity of it all hits you like a truck, hard enough to make your knees weak, and you force yourself to step back, leave the warmth and safety of his arms, his body, his smell, his… everything, before you try to disappear in it. Burrow yourself inside him, seek permanent refuge from the storm. Hide behind him like a child running from a monster. 

“I’m s-sorry about last night, th-this,” your stomach is queasy again, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… that was… I don’t usually drink that much, I’m… I’m sorry.” The walls are closing in, a sob so heavy you could drown in it builds in your chest, and you sink into the stark reality of what he’s probably waiting to say. It’s time to go. Get out of his house. “I’ll just… I’ll go.” You move farther of the bathroom, and he follows. 

“You’ll st-” 

“I need to go to work later, so I sh-should probably go home and get some sleep.” You’re scrambling, looking for anything that might make sense, might justify you sprinting out of this house. It’s amazing how solid your voice is, truly an impressive feat on your part, treading water in survival mode and trying to preserve a shred of dignity. “I have work. A lot of prep work. To do… later.” The uber app lights up under a stroke of your thumb. 

“Sweetheart…” he’s got his hands out now, palms open like you’re a wild animal thrashing in a trap and he’s going to free you. “Everything’s okay. You didn’t do any-” 

“I’m fine.” Your voice cracks when you cut him off. You can’t listen to him be nice to you after this. “It’s fine. But um… I-I… really do need to go.” You can’t describe the look on his face. It’s like he’s holding onto something with a shred of control, muscles in his arms tense, jaw tight. It almost looks like anger, mixed with concern, his eyes bright and focused, all of it making the edge of your vision blurry. 

He’s got you pinned. It’s all you’ve wanted. 

But now you’re standing in front of him, a mess, ashamed, horrified. 

When he says your name it’s gentle, and patient, the underlying authority in it impossible to ignore, a leash drawing your eyes up from the floor. 

Your phone chimes. 

Uber. 

“That’s my ride,” you rasp, looking away and towards the door. There’s a long moment where you think he might not let you leave, a thought that’s not frightening at all, but unexpectedly comforting. If he didn’t let you leave… if he wanted you to stay… 

He takes a very long, very deep breath, the only noise existing between the two of you until he nods and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to push you too hard yet,” he pauses, scrutiny bringing his brows together in a barely there crease, “and I can’t box you in, can I?” It doesn’t seem like a question for you, just about you, one he’s asking himself, one you do not understand at all. The hangover is liquifying your brain, and nothing is making sense. 

“I, uh… I-” His thumb presses to your bottom lip, stealing words, thoughts, logic, everything from inside you. 

“I want you to get some rest when you get home. Take a shower, eat, and text me before you go into work.” 

“O-okay. I will.” He rewards you with a smile, a small, proud smile that hangs like a blue ribbon around your neck. A shiny trophy from a soccer-roos game, a first place prize at the science fair, and for once it doesn’t feel like you’re looking out into the crowd for smiling faces that aren’t there. 

That feeling is what keeps you warm all the way home, even in the nip of brisk morning air. 

You should have gone home and slept, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

You went to work. 

You threw on a pair of throwaway clothes you keep in the office and tied an apron around your waist and disappeared into bakery. 

You buried yourself into whatever you could think of, four different types of cookie dough, brownie batter, massive batches of buttercream, nervous energy bubbling up in your chest and spilling out through your hands, forcing them to work, to make, again and again until you can’t possibly do anything else. 

The entire time, you ignore the world. Your headache, your stomach, the slow foot traffic out front. Weekends run on a skeleton crew and you’re never here anyway, so it’s not like anyone bothers you. 

It’s just you, an entire bag of fresh rosemary, and a mountain of flour. 

You could make rosemary focaccia every day and never get bored. It can be used for anything, eaten with anything, and- 

the dough can take a beating. 

It’s therapeutic, mixing and kneading it into pliable balls and then stretching them out onto sheet pans, chopping rosemary leaves into tiny little pieces so you can sprinkle them over the top with the olive oil. It’s easy to get lost in it, ignorant of the time slipping away, the shop out front closing, your phone rattling against the stainless steel tabletop across the room, the sun slowly sinking behind the skyline. 

You push the world away until a heavy knock sounds from the back door. 

Captain Riley is standing on the other side. He looks over your shoulder, a sweeping inspection revealing the facts of the matter, a truth that has your stomach sinking like a stone to the bottom of the sea. 

You went back on your word. 

“Hi.”  

“You didn’t go home.” You gulp. 

“No.”  He turns you around and steers you back inside. 

“You didn’t listen.” He hoists you up onto a stool at the end of your workbench.“Sit, and do not move.” 

“I-” Fingers hook under your knee, pulling it against his thigh so you’re partially spread around him, and the contact is like a drink of water in a drought. A washed out memory forces its way to the forefront of your mind. Did you know you’re so big?  “A-are you mad?” Your voice is tinny, steeped in anxiety, and his eyes soften. 

“No baby, I’m not mad. You’re learning, you’ll make mistakes.” 

“I will?” He nods. 

“My instincts are never wrong. You didn’t run off because you were uncomfortable. You ran because you were embarrassed, and that’s my fault.” He murmurs, wiping at something crusted on your cheeks. Batter. Dough. You don’t know, all you can focus on is the rhythmic rub of his palm skating up and down your leg, squeezing the flesh at your hip before traveling back down to your knee. It’s like watching a pocket watch swing in front of your face, hypnosis taking over your thoughts until the only thing left is him. “I shouldn’t have let you leave this morning but I didn’t want to box you into a corner.” There’s a bowl of raspberry filling to your left, and he swipes his thumb through it, holding the red, pulpy sweetness to your lips. “Open your mouth,” tart sugar swipes across your tongue from tooth to tooth, and he holds you open, tips your head back. You’re holding your breath, hanging on the edge of cliff, dangling, wondering if the rope will be cut, if the rug will be pulled out beneath you, scrambling to put something, anything together to make this make sense. It’s rattling through your bones, twisting you up into knots…

all of it going quiet when his mouth finds yours. Tasting. Taking. Holding your head between his hands and breathing new life into you, tongue against tongue, raspberry swirl staining you both, dying your mouths so red it could be blood. Heat turns molten and you throb, thighs trying to close instinctively, seeking contact, pressure, an alleviation to the mounting ache blooming between them. 

He pulls away and chuckles, thumb retaking its place in your mouth as he watches, studies. “My sweet girl.” You make a noise, a squeak, a little whine of pleasure. That’s you. His sweet girl. His. It makes you happier than you know how to explain. 

And then he says something that knocks the wind out of you. 

“You’re daddy’s girl, baby.” He lets it linger in the air, waiting for something, a reaction, but nothing comes except more agony between your legs, and a strange feeling of relief. “You’re mine, and I’m going to take care of you, every little piece of you, even the ones you try to hide.” Your eyes burn with tears and he wipes them away with his free hand. You wonder if you’re supposed to be disgusted, if you’re supposed to feel shame, discomfort, but none of those things are there. Only desire, relief, longing, peace. Hope. 

He wants you. He cares about you. He sees you.

Daddy’s girl. 

“Do you want that?” You nod and pull on his thumb like you’re trying to take more, and he huffs an exhale of a laugh. “Look at you, sucking on my thumb already.” He pops it free to cup your cheek, and you mourn the empty space between your teeth, leaning forward for more. More, more more- “I need the words.” 

“Yes, I want it.” Your voice doesn’t shake. You don’t stutter. It’s the strongest you’ve ever sounded. He presses his lips to yours, lingering in the kiss before holding your face in both hands, tipping your head back, bringing your eyes directly to his.

“Yes who?” You lick your lips. 

“Yes, daddy.” When you say it, it doesn’t sound foreign, or weird, or sinful. It’s right. For once in your life, your words don’t feel clumsy or stupid or mixed up. They just are. What you want to say, what you meant to say. 

“Yes, daddy. I want it.” 

[fortunekookie07]

Are requests open? May I request a sylus x wife reader (not the mc) where she is afraid of him and feels like he doesn’t love her cause of his cold and intimidating nature. Then mc arrives and she’s hurt and shocked with how he treats her. Now convinced that he doesn’t love her and hates her she keeps her distance and sits alone everyday on the rooftop. Barely eating anything nor sleeping properly she lost the will and strength to sleep next to him and sleeps on the couch or on the rooftop (after she saw him pin down mc onto the bed ya know that scene) . Even starts to think of packing up and leaving telling herself to “prepare” whenever he divorces her.

But one time she gets kidnapped for bait and injured yet sylus hasn’t come for days so she tells her kidnappers “ it’s a waste of time cause sylus won’t come for me, i mean nothing to him , he was already planning to get rid of me. so you might as well kill me right now and save your breaths.” Not knowing that her husband overheard her when he entered before she passed out due to lack of food and exhaustion.

Did You Ever Love Me?

The day you married Sylus was the happiest day of your life. You had been by his side for 3 years. It wasn't the easy life you had once dreamed of, but this was the reality of the N109 Zone. Nothing was easy, and everything had a price.

You still remembered the day you had first met, what a blood bath that had been. Your family had been one of the most influential in the area. Having long established their authority when it came to weapons dealing. Only supplying top-notch weapons.

From a young age your father had made sure you knew the business, drsminf of having you take over. He taught you everything he knew. From the making of the orders, to quality check, and even materials secured.

That day it was your parents 25th anniversary and a big party was thrown for them. Business partners and friends were all invited to the event.

The only thing your father had not warned you about, was the extensive dangers of the N109 Zone. He'd tried to shield you from just how dirty the world could be.

A rival family had crashed the party with a seemingly endless group of thugs. Before anyone had realized what was going on, gunshots filled the air. People started screaming and running in a desperate attempt to get to safety. Pushing and shoving others out of their way as they went.

A stray bullet hit your arm and blood immediately started pouring from the wound. You grunted as the pain slammed into you and momentarily lost your footing just a another bullet whizzed past the air where your head had been seconds ago.

You heard your father calling your name and pushing through people trying to get to you. You could see your mother sitting on the ground near one of the stairs columns. She was tying a makeshift bandage around someone's leg. Trying to staunch the bleeding.

You felt like your life was running in fast forward as you watched your father continue to push through the crowd and then he suddenly stopped moving as his eyes widened and he looked down. Blood was blooming across the white shirt of his suit and staining the black jacket. In the center of the stain was a hole. You felt sick seing that hole pierced through his chest over his heart.

"Father!" Your scream rang over the gunshots and panic as you tried to run to him. The long him of your dress got stepped on and you fell to the floor landing hard on your side. Pain zipped through your body at the hard smack to the unforgiving marble floor.

You desperately fought to get to your feet as it finally seemed like the crowd was thinning out. Thankfully no one stepped on you or your clothes again. Just as you reached your father the gun shots stopped and the following silence seemed to bring the air of dread.

The scent of blood was strong, making you gag as your stomach heaved. You push the feelings back and reach out to the injury, hands shaking as you try to staunch the blood flow. He grunts with the pressure and his eyes open slightly. You start muttering words but even you don't believe what you are saying.

"It's ok father, we can fix this. I'll get help, the doctor will fix you right up and then everything will be ok." Tears arr pouring down your face as he smiles weakly. He reaches for your face, trying to touch your cheek. Just before his hand can touch you a great force yanks you back.

You scream out at the pain, pulling you scalp. A heavy fist has gripped your hair, yanking the strands hardly and then a voice is in your ear. "I'll blast a hole in your head if you move a muscle." The voice growled near your ear as he tightens his grip on your hair. Your cried our in pain and he just tugged harder, you bit back the second cry as hot tears rolled down your face.

His arm grabbed your hand and forced you to your feet, perking you to face the way he wanted. He kicked the back of your knees forcing you to kneel in front of a man. Tugging your head back as he allowed you to stare at the man clearly responsible for this entire plot.

Fear stuck you as a cold, malicious smile stretched across his heavily scarred face. His eye was like flat steel. No luster or shine to its grey depths. A scar cut through his left eye and down his cheek, going all the way down to his mouth. Burn scars were also intermingled on his face.

His eye itself was an ugly milky color, it held no pupil or iris. On the right side of his face three long jagged scars could be seen stretching from his ear down to his chin. Little tremors went through your body. This man had an overwhelming presence and the sense of evil wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little princess. Your father was careful to hide you away from me. Protecting his biggest weakness. I must say I do admire him for that."

In contrast to his appearance his voice was smooth, a slight rasp clung to his words. Whatever had attacked and scarred him had obviously affected his vocal cords. He worked it to his advantage, speaking in a way that soothed you on the surface. Even if his words were unsettling or foul.

He reached for you, his fingers and thumb just barely brushing your face when a loud caw shattered the silence. With the bird cry black and red mist began pouring into the wide space and the air got heavy. As if gravity itself was pushing down on everyone and everything in the room. The mist covered and hid everything in its path. Blinking you realized you couldn't see the man in front of you.

A deep, suave, sexy voice seemed to come from no where as helped had seemed to arrive. "It seems you did not learn your lesson. I don't mind teaching it to you agiain, Osric." The mist wrapped around him, holding him still. Footsteps tapped across the floor, the occasional sloosh as he stepped in a puddle. Your body shuddered, knowing exactly what liquid he stood in.

It took a few minutes before you realized that the man who had been gripping your hair was no longer touching you, or even anywhere near you.

The mist began swirling into the center of the room, right next to you. Looking into the mist you could just make out a tall silhouette. As rapidly as the mist had spread it was now retreating.

A tall well built man was standing right beside you. Silver hair carefully styled. Red eyes piercing and promising danger. The right one seemed to be glowing.

"You have some guts, touching something of mine, I don't take kindly to thievery. The man, Osric, was hoisted into the air with the mist. He gasped and sputtered clawing at the mist to no avail.

Two men appeared by your side then. One offered his hand, bit you hesitate. Both are wearing black crow masks with subtle red lines on the face of the mask and a red tipped beak. Two red horns poke through the hoods they wear and a gold ring is on one of them. The two are slim and tall, you can tell nothing of their appearance. Clothing and masks make it impossible to discern any identifying features.

The first guy is still holding his hand out to you, he seems neither impatient nor upset that you haven't accepted it yet. Finally seeing no consequence to taking his offered hand you lightly place your palm in his. He gently but firmly grasps your hand and assists you in standing. He let's go after you are steady on your feet and positions himself at your side. The second does the same on your right. Like they are bodyguards.

"Screw you Sylus"! Osric sputters out, still trying to break free of the mist. His fingers are bloody from his efforts to free himself. "Luke, Kieran, see to it that she comes to no harm." The silver haired man says as he squeezes his hand. The mist constricts around Osric further cutting of his air flow completely.

One of the two lightly grabs your arm and spins you around just as a sickening crunch reaches your ears. This kind of thing happened a lot here. Those with power ruled over the weak. It was nothing new.

You had long grown accustomed to the way Sylua dealt with traitors and rats. He did not tolerate disloyalty and gave no second chances.

The events of your parents 25th anniversary party had happened five years ago. You often wondered how your life would have gone if you had never accepted his hand when he gave it. Your father had been supplying weapons to Sylus' organization for years. He'd apparently stuck some kind of deal with Sylus, that had involved your protection.

Sylus had married you, per your father's request and now he owned almost half of your family business. Haven acquired your mother and father's shares. He'd left yours to you.

At first you'd been absolutely terrified of him. His aura radiated danger, almost like he was a living grim reaper. He so often came back to the manor covered in blood. The twins were his direct subordinates. They followed his every command quickly and without hesitation. But at least they had a personality and could provide a sense of calm.

It had taken almost a year before you could approach Sylus without feeling nervous. You hadn't been able to understand your fear of him. He'd posed no restrictions on you, didn't make any ridiculous demands and had never threatened you with harm of any kind.

The turning point had been the day he'd come home injured and concern over his bleeding wounds had overrode the fear. Despite his insistence that he didn't need any first aide treatment, Sylus had not pushed you away or tried to stop you from cleaning his wounds.

After that he began spending time with you and talked to you. Before you knew it you looked forward to when he would come home and just talk to you for awhile. These little gestures and act of kindness had resonated in your heart and little by little you felt yourself falling for him.

He'd granted your request to be touched by him and he spent a night with you. Thinking that he too had given his heart to you, you lived your days believing that he loved you back. That was until she appeared.

In an instant his entire demeanor changed. He made her his top priority. Spending any and all time he had with her. Most nights he didn't even come to your room anymore. His side of the bed was often unspent in.

You hadn't officially met her yet, only seen her in passing. She was beautiful. Long dark hair hung in neat and straight lengths down to her very slender waist. Piercing eyes almost the shade of jade framed by thick dark lashes. She was on the shorter side, even you were taller than she was. This woman held some kind of connection with your husband and the knowledge that your place was very quickly being stripped away gnawed at you from the inside.

Wandering aimlessly through the manor one day you discovered the ladder that lead up to the roof. Even though it was cold outside, you still sat there on the roof. Wondering how long it would be before you were forgotten completely.

Despite the cold and the swirling snow, you dozed off hugging your arms to your sides. What seemed like minutes later you were woken up by a piercing light. The sun was beginning to sting your eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun's first rays of the day, you tried to sit up straight. Your whole body was numb and cold. It took several minutes to rub feeling back into your fingers.

Carefully moving away from the edge of the roof you stood up. Your legs shook from the movement. Having been in the same position for too long, they had gone to sleep.

You did some light stretches and gradually the shaking and numbing little stings subsided and you felt more sure on your feet.

Finally you made your way to the roof latch, having left it open all night there was a pile of snow at the base of the ladder and it was freezing cold to the touch.

You descended the ladder and walked around the manor. It was quiet, most everyone was asleep at this time. Feeling the desire to see Sylus, you turn around and head to his room. He was usually there at this time. You hesitate at the door. Whenever you'd come to his room he was usually accompanying you.

Just as your about to knock, a voice addresses you from behind. "He's not here, Sylus went out for work. I've been waiting for him to return since last night." Turning around, you see that woman. Feeling angry for a reason you can't quite grasp, you turn around

and storm by her. Purposely bumping into her on the way by. She stumbles but you keep going.

Your sour mood lingers throughout the day killing any appetite oyi might have had. Your wandering leads you back to the roof and you sit in the same spot from the night before.

From your spot on the roof, you can hear his motorcycle approach the manor and you sit their contemplating what to do. Finally after another two hours you head back to his room. When you get there the door is adjacent and you silently push it open. You feel your heart stop.

There on the bed is Sylus on top of her. She's pinned down and it's very obvious what is going on. His naked back is to you and her equally naked leg is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is intense that you feel your heart break. His hand is twined with hers and pinned above her head. You back away and run down the hall and go to the roof.

Hot tears are streaming down your face as you realized that Sylus had never loved you. He'd just been indulging you for the last several years because you were useful. He could even hate you for all you knew. The one he truly loved was currently tangled with him on his bed.

You feel your heart break further as you realize that with no family or friends you have nothing. You had only ever been useful to Sylus because of you family's business. That was not love and never could be.

You cry yourself to sleep on the roof again, completely defenseless and unaware of the eyes watching you. When you wake up again, there's a dull ache in your head and a ferocious growl in your stomach, but you have no desire to eat or even move.

You sit there watching the stars for what seemed like days. Eventually the sky begins to lighten as the sun begins its ascent across the sky. You continue to sit, even as heavy clouds roll in. Another snowfall is coming, you remembered from the weeks forecast you had read a few days ago. But still you don't move.

It's only when the wind cuts through you, chilling you to the bone that you get up. Once again you rub feeling back into your frozen limbs and head down the ladder. You avoid your room and his. Just the thought of sleeping in a bed you had shared with him makes your stomach turn. Your entire body burns with the feeling if betrayal, but you can neither act on it or alleviate it. The feeling simmers in your stomach driving away the need for food.

Eventually you end up on the couch. The warmth from the fire burning in the hearth slowly warms you up and a drowsy feeling over comes you. Stretching out and pulling the throw down over you, you manage to drift off into a restless sleep.

After what feels like minutes, your body is shaken awake. It's that woman again, hate burns through your veins. You want to tear her apart and rip her to shreds. You glare at everything.

"Hey, the cook said you didn't eat dinner. So I brought you some food" She offers the plate to you. It's all your favorite things. A light fruit salad with beautifully cut fresh fruit and a stack of golden waffles topped with whipped cream and raspberries. Your anger overtakes you and you sit up and shove the plate away from you. She's so surprised at this action that she stumbles back, dropping the plate as she does. The delicate China shatters on the floor as the fruit scattered and the waffles sit there on top of the broken peices.

She looks at you with hurt on her face. "Why did you do that?" She asks just as Sylus enters the room. He looks annoyed at the mess on the floor. Concern overtakes him as he comes closer. Of course none of it is for you, she's the only important one in his eyes. A shard of the plate had bounced of the floor and put a cut on her arm. She had a line of bright red blood blooming out from the slice.

"Did you really think I would accept anything from YOU?" You spit the words at her like venom and stand up. "I know your not so stupid as to be unaware that Sylus is my husband." Your words are as cold as the ice outside. Red blooms across her face as realization strikes her.

You turn to leave the room and just as your about to step into the hall something grabs your arm and yanks you back. Your head whips around and your suddenly face to face with Sylus angry expression.

"She is my guest, you will treat her with respect. Don't lay your hands on her again." You rip your arm from his grasp. "You must think I'm an idiot. She's getting a hell of a lot more than hospitality from you. I owe her NOTHING. She is nothing to me but a sneaky slut that wormed her way into a married man's bed. Both of you disgust me." You storm from the room. As you leave, you take notice of the twins. They are also watching you, but you do not care.

You return to your room and begin to make preparations. You're almost certain now that Sylus hates you. "Divorce is pretty much guaranteed." You say out loud to no one. As you look around the room you realize that nothing in it is truly yours. Everything had been given by Sylus after your marriage. "What a joke I am. I must be the biggest idiot in all of the world. I never should have married him. He was a complete stranger. What a fool!" You kick the dresser in anger, the pain just spurs you on.

After ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them to the floor your anger had only increased. Grabbing the nearest object, your hurl it to the floor. Feeling satisfied as it shatters. You begin throwing things all over the room. In minutes the neat, beautifully decorated room is in shambles. Glass, sheets, books, jewelry, makeup, and nick-nacks are all over the floor. You turn and leave the disaster you made, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can on your way out. The paintings on the wall tremble from the force.

You storm through the manor headed for the stairs again. You don't recognize the lightheaded woozy feeling that has over come you and you feel dizzy as you reach the ladder that goes to the roof. Halfway up, your foot slips. Before you fall, in a burst of adrenaline you manage to grab the ladder securely. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you cling to the rungs. "That was too close," you mutter taking deep, steady breaths.

Undeterred, you climb the ladder anyway, resolute in seeking peace on the roof once more. It takes a lot more effort to climb up than it had in previous climbs. Your huffing and puffing by the time you manage to get up.

As you walk to the ledge and glance at the snow covered ground below, you realize something is off. The footsteps in the snow are not yours and since it had been snowing for hours, the ones from earlier would have long since been hidden under more snow.

You whirl around ad your mind screams danger. You hands fumble through your layers of clothing to grab the knife you always kept with you. It was a custom blade and designed to attach to your bra. Although it was small, it was very sharp and could easily cut and stab in defense. As your hand manages to grab the handle a figure appears from the top of the roof. He easily jumps down to where you are.

"To think that the infamous wife of Onychinus' boss would be so easy to get to. No bodyguard?" He asks in a taunting tone. The man is dressed head to foot in black. His entire body is covered save for his eyes. Black as a blank night sky and soulless. He points a gun at you. "Drop the knife, or I'll put a bullet in you right here." He says his finger twitching on the trigger.

Having been taught how to fight from a small age, you fein dropping the knife as he moves closer. Just as he's within reach you spin it around and drive it into his upper arm. Unfortunately he was prepared for your tricks and fires the gun. The bullet burries itself deep into your thigh. You cry out and collapse to the ground clutching the wound. Blood seeps between your fingers and down your leg. Falling upon the snow.

"You're going to regret that." The man says as he pulls the blade out of his arm and flings it to the ground. He reaches out and grabs you. You're enveloped in a blinding light and then everything fades away. Sight, sound, and feeling are gone.

It feels like you're floating in darkness for a long time. You struggle to move, bit something is restricting you're movements. A rattling sound is the first thing you can hear as your senses come flooding back. The pain slams into you again and you groan. You realize that you've been blindfolded with a thick cloth.

"She's finally awake. I would really like to know about that blade she stabbed you with. It really did a number on your arm. It must have been very sharp.

"Shut up and just do your job. The boss needs information and she's going to have it. He said do whatever it takes to get it out of her. Just don't kill her." A gleeful cackle made you shudder and then footsteps came closer to you.

"Darkness makes the pain more intense. You will tell me what we want to know." The man says and then you can hear metal being moved around. Your heart begins to race. There is nothing for you to tell them. Sylus had always made sure that you knew nothing of his business and plans. You had only ever overseen the production of weapons. You didn't know their purpose or intended use.

"I imagine I'll get away with it if I do kill you though. Osric was his brother just so you know. Boss has a personal grudge to pick with you and Sylus. This is going to be delicious. Let's begin. We'll start with something easy." He said and then you could feel him standing at your side.

Hours had passed since the torture had begun, but no matter what question he asked the result was the same. You didn't know.

He had tried a variety of methods to break you. The first had been pulling you fingernails our. It had been excruciating and you nearly passed out several times. The he had tried whipping you. Your back was a raw bloody mess from all the cuts. That had made you pass out. His ways of waking you up again were resolute. Dumping ice water on you seemed to do the trick.

Your mind felt like it was going to snap if this went on much longer. Your voice was raspy and hoarse from the hours of screaming and crying. At first you had tried to hold back, but this maniac had taken it as a challenge. Several times he had said you were boring him with your instant responses.

"You're n-not going to-o get any.. anything fro-om me. I have nothing to tell. Even if I wanted to." This was not the first time you had said those words. It's just they fell on deaf ears. "Ju-just kill me al-ready. I I'm useless to yo-ou. He-e doesn't ca-are about me. Ju-just end it already. I-I don't kn-ow anything." This went on for days. You knew time was passing but you had no idea how much until finally a different person entered the room.

"Boss is fed up with you. He wants to know why she hasn't spilled her guts yet. He's tired of waiting for what he wants to know. Can't believe three days and she hasn't cracked once." His voice sounded disappointed and uninterested.

You'd lost count of all the methods they had tried to get you to speak. Several times you had begged him to just kill you but he'd only laughed in response. Sleep had been allowed a few times and sips of water had been given.

They had never removed your blindfold, and you were glad that you could not see what had been done to you. Even if you could feel every injury, being able to see them would have made it ten times worse.

Just as he was getting ready to start again, the door was blasted open. It sounded like it had been ripped right off the hinges. Chaos ensued with whatever had cause the door to explode, and the man started yelling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Crashes followed the words, and then a guttural sputter followed. Seconds later, you felt hands touching you, and you flinched, thinking that more pain would follow. To your surprise, the restraints on your arms and legs were removed, and then someone was carefully helping you sit up. A pair of hands touched the blindfold and then dim light hit your eyes. You screwed them shut feeling that it was painful.

Every part of your body hurt. Stinging and burning sensations were running rampant all over and you just wanted it to end. "We need to move." A familiar voice said in your ear. You open your eyes, ignoring the pain from the light and look at the voice. To your complete surprise Luke and Kieran are by your side.

"We've come to get you. Boss is so angry. I don't want to stick around here." The twins had their usual care free attitude as they watched you. "Why?" You asked looking at the pair. You could sense their confusion. "What do you mean why? You're Boss's wife. Of course he will take back what is his." One of them said as the other drapped a blanket over you and then carefully picked you up.

You grimaced and tried not to show the pain. "M-my leg is broken." You managed to get out between gritted teeth and gasps. They said nothing as they took you out the door.

Having never seen any of the place you were in, you were surprised at the twisting hallways and maze like route that you were taking. But the twins seemed undeterred and walked quickly. Before long there was a heavy metal door in front of you. It was all dented and it looked like an explosion had hit it. The door was already adjar and upon further investigation, you notice that it's hanging off the hinges.

Walking down another short hallway you come up into a large room. With a start you realize that blood is everywhere and there are bodies scattered through out the room. At the front leaning against a table is Sylus. He looks irritated and he has blood spattered on his face. He stands up straight when he sees you and the twins. His gaze hardens as he looks you over.

"Why did you come?" He looks at you blankly, his face giving nothing away. He just looks at you like he's staring right through you.

"Did you ever, even for one second love me?" You ask after several tense minutes go by. He still says nothing. Feeling the unsaid confirmation of what you had thought to be true now a reality you close your eyes against the tears.

A minute later and you open them again. "I am over this. I just want it to end. I don't care about anything anymore. I no longer want anything as I also posses nothing. You can have it all. I just want it to end." After letting go you feel like a weight has fallen off your shoulders. All the hate and resentment you'd felt several days ago has disappeared.

"Take her to the manor and contact the dr." Sylus finally says after many moments. The twins immediately move out. Despite their best efforts you get jostled several times and the pain makes you pass out. You surrender to unconsciousness, thankful to escape for however short a time it will last.

Over the next several months you are confined to bed to allow you injuries to heal. The scarring isn't as bad as you had though it would be, but it extends over most of your arms legs and back. The whip scars will never disappear and serve as a constant reminder to never show your back to anyone.

Eventually the day arrives that the dr tells you all of you injuries have healed and he discharges you from his care. Eight months have passed since that day and finally you are back on your feet. Having packed a bag with a few sets of clothes you grab the strap and the papers you had asked for a few days ago.

Without hesitation you go to Sylus' office and open the door. He is sitting at his desk reading some documents. You walk over and set two things down. One of them reads Transfer of Assets and the other says Annulment of Marriage. Placing a pen on top of it you say resolute "sign them and then you'll never see me again." You take a step back and wait.

He sets the papers down and looks at what you have placed on his desk with a raised eyebrow. "What is this?" You inwardly sigh. "Sinc you do not love me and I have no desire to play second fiddle to anyone else I am not staying. Clearly there is no place for me here. This is to repay the treatment I was given. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing." You're confidant that with relinquishing your rights to your family's business and everything you endured being at his side will more than repay him.

He appears to be lost in thought as he reads over the papers. "You really want nothing in return?" The only thing you had asked for in the divorce agreement was that he not seek you out and that your paths never cross again. You nod and finally he moves to sign them. You turn on your heel and walk out of the door, out of his manor. This corrupt part of the city and out of his life forever.

A sense of peace washes over you as you get into your car and turn the ignition. Ready to begin your own life.

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

And thus ends another one. I did make some tweaks to the original plot line I was given because it flowed better in this way. I do hope you don't mind. I stuck to what you gave me as much as possible. I hope you enjoyed this one

Tag list:

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@barbuse @mariposa666haruka @cosmocup1d @xthefuckerysquaredx @bokerayboke

@ellieevu @prettytemis @bananagoesbonkers4 @dreamerwasfound @sweet2wth

@tanspostsblog @linxiajei17 @jeondyy @alexatiu

[cvlebs]

Needy for you

Caleb received your message, in which you urged him to come over as soon ass he can possibly make it. You assured him it was nothing serious, you were just extremely needy for his presence.

!! FemReader + Caleb, SMUT | Word count: 2.4K

Tags: you’re needy for a taste of him, handjob, blowjob, hot makeouts, semi-dominant reader, Caleb loves it, stuffing your panties in his mouth to silence him, punishment, Caleb calls you pip-squeak, he asks to keep the panties

The door creaks open, revealing Caleb, his tall figure silhouetted against the hallway light. He steps in, a teasing smile playing on his lips, his dark brown hair slightly tousled. "Hey pip-squeak, you here?” he quips, his purple eyes sparkling with excitement.

You walk into the entrance hallway of your apartment, after hearing the door. When you see Caleb standing there, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at his adorable tone.

Caleb moves closer, the familiar scent of his cologne filling the room, and you notice his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than usual, making your heart race. He leans against the wall casually, arms crossed, but there's a hint of something deeper in his eyes — a mix of protectiveness and desire that speaks volumes.

You exclaim “So glad you’re finally here”, before playfully leaping into Caleb's arms, wrapping your legs around his hips. You capture his lips in a passionate kiss, silencing any further teasing words he might have had.

The heat of your desire is palpable as you whine between kisses, “I was thinking about you all day”. Your voice is filled with longing, and you continue “I needed this more than anything”, each word laced with urgency and need.

Caleb's eyes widened momentarily in surprise as you jumped into his hold, but he quickly recovered, a grin spreading across his face. The warmth of your body against him sends a rush of exhilaration through him, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

As your lips meet, he can feel the need radiating from you, igniting a fire within him. He responds eagerly, deepening the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you securely as if you might slip away. “Well, if you needed this”, he murmurs breathlessly between kisses, “Then who am I to deny you?”.

His voice is playful yet filled with an underlying seriousness, reflecting the protective nature he carries for you. In this moment, your usual playful banter dissolves into a heated exchange, your hearts racing in sync.

You stand up, no longer wrapping yourself around Caleb. A mischievous glint appears in your eyes as you push him against the wall, your body pressing against his with an urgency that speaks volumes of your desire.

Your lips crash together again in a messy, passionate make out, the heat between you two palpable. Caleb lets out a laugh, slightly shy but amused, as he playfully protests, “Pipsqueak— slow down, I'm not going anywhere. No need to devour me like this”. His voice is filled with warmth, and you can't help but feel a rush of affection at his teasing tone.

“I’m just so needy, sorry” you breathe heavily, the weight of your longing evident in your words. Caleb, sensing your vulnerability, cups your cheeks gently, your foreheads touching for a moment before he leans in for a soft kiss, a silent approval that invites you to continue.

As the kiss lingers, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the reassurance of Caleb's affection calming your neediness. Caleb's hands slide down to your waist again, grounding you as you share a tender moment amidst the fervor.

“See? That's better” he whispers, his purple eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and sincerity. You feel the connection deepen, the playful teasing blending into something more profound as you continue to explore each other's lips, savoring the taste of one another.

You moan softly between heated kisses, your breath warm against Caleb's lips as you whisper “Caleb... please”. The urgency in your voice is undeniable, a plea that fuels the fire between you both. Caleb's purple eyes widen slightly with curiosity, and he asks sincerely.

“What do you want, pipsqueak? What is it?” the nickname makes your heart flutter even more. With a determined glint in your eyes, you respond “I want to taste you”, as you kiss him again, your hands skillfully reaching for his belt, eager to explore the depths of their connection.

Caleb feels a rush of exhilaration at your boldness, the combination of your desire and determination igniting a spark within him. He watches you, a mix of amusement and affection playing across his features as you fumble with his belt, clearly intent on taking things further.

You kneel down, your determination shining through as you swiftly gather your hair into a messy ponytail, the movement accentuating the curves of your body. With a focused gaze, you begin to undress the bottom half of Caleb, your fingers deftly working at his belt and pants.

Wasting no time, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, beginning to stroke it with a rhythmic motion, eager to heighten his pleasure. Caleb gasps softly, his breath hitching as your touch sends waves of sensation coursing through him.

He breathes out, his voice thick with pleasure “You're incredible”, as he leans back against the wall, surrendering to your ministrations while maintaining that playful yet affectionate gaze. He reaches down, his fingers threading through your hair, gently encouraging you as you continue.

You lean in closer, your breath warm against Caleb's skin as you tease him playfully with your tongue. The sensation sends a shiver through Caleb, and he can't help but let out a low groan, his body responding eagerly to your every movement.

Caleb watches you, his heart racing as you lean in, the playful teasing igniting a fire within him. He grips your hair gently, his fingers tangling in your ponytail as he urges you to continue, his eyes dark with anticipation.

You pull away from Caleb, a playful glint in your eyes as you address him with a teasing tone. “Caleb, before I continue” you begin, your breath warm against his skin, “My neighbors are home. So we need to be completely quiet”. Caleb nods in response, understanding the need for discretion and offers you a reassuring smile.

“Got it, pip-squeak. Silent mode activated” he whispers playfully, his voice low and teasing as he gestures with his hands in an exaggerated 'shhh' motion. You can't help but giggle at his antics, the sound a sweet melody in the charged silence of the room.

You suggest moving to your bedroom, no longer wanting to stay in the hallway, and Caleb agrees, following you like a lost puppy. As you reach it, you playfully push Caleb onto the bed, your desire overtaking any hesitation.

The soft bedding welcomes him as he leans back against the wall, his legs casually resting off the side. With a mischievous grin, you position yourself right between his legs, your intentions clear.

Without wasting a moment, you reach for his erection, your fingers wrapping around it with a familiar confidence, starting a rhythmic stroking motion that mirrors your earlier heated exchanges. Caleb's breath hitches, his body responding instantly to your touch.

“Wow, someone's eager” he teases, a playful smirk on his lips as he leans back further, the amusement in his purple eyes contrasting with the desire coursing through him.

Despite the playful banter, there's an undeniable seriousness in the way he watches you, his protective instincts flaring as he absorbs the moment. “You know you can take your time, right?” he adds, his voice low and steady, emphasizing his support for your desires.

You whisper softly against Caleb's shaft, your breath sending shivers through him as you express your need, “I know, but I need it so bad”. With determination, you take him into your mouth once again as you did earlier, your warm lips wrapping around him as you begin to bob your head slowly up and down.

Caleb gasps, his body instinctively arching towards you as your mouth envelops him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. The warmth of your lips and the softness of your tongue create an intoxicating rhythm that leaves him breathless. “Pip-squeak...” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of admiration and desire lacing his tone.

Overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him, Caleb begins to moan louder and louder, unable to contain his pleasure. Momentarily halting your movements, you turn to him with a playful yet annoyed expression on your face, clearly irritated yet amused by his inability to follow your earlier agreement.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you lean back slightly, your playful demeanor contrasting with the seriousness of the situation. “Told you to be quiet” you tease him, your voice low but firm, a playful warning lacing your words.

Caleb, still caught in the throes of pleasure, meets your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and mischief. “Come on, it's hard to stay quiet when you're doing that” he responds, a sheepish grin breaking through his earlier seriousness.

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips as you lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “I’ll give you one last chance to keep it down, but if you can't, well... I might just have to make you”. Your tone carries a teasing threat, heightening the tension in the air.

Caleb's heart races at your words as you playfully assert your dominance, leaning in to give Caleb a teasing kiss before returning to your previous position to focus to his erection.

With a confident smile, you whisper “Now be a good boy and keep quiet”. Your tone is both playful and assertive, making it clear that you intend to keep your little game going while testing his resolve.

As you resume your ministrations, Caleb's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and excitement. Your warm mouth envelops him once again, and he feels a rush of pleasure coursing through his body. The earlier playful banter fades as the heat between them intensifies, and he finds himself struggling to maintain his composure.

“Pip-squeak..” he breathes out, the name slipping from his lips as he fights the urge to let out another moan. Despite the effort, a low groan escapes him, filled with both pleasure and a hint of frustration as he tries to adhere to your playful demand.

You intensify your actions, fully immersed in the moment as you revel in the taste of Caleb's hard on. You shift your focus to the head, your tongue licking playfully while your warm mouth delivers sloppy kisses.

Your hands stroke him in tandem, each movement deliberate and filled with desire, creating a rhythm that heightens the intimacy of their connection. Caleb gasps, his body arching instinctively as your skilled movements send waves of pleasure coursing through him.

Caleb's earlier amusement transforms into raw desire, and he finds himself captivated by your enthusiasm. He watches you, admiration and affection shining in his eyes. He fights against the urge to moan, knowing he must adhere to the playful pact of silence, yet the sensations threaten to overwhelm him.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Caleb accidentally lets out a loud moan. You pause, your eyes narrowing playfully as you watch him, a smirk forming on your lips.

“Caleb... I gave you a chance” you whisper, standing up with an air of confidence. In a teasing yet assertive manner, you slowly lift your skirt, revealing red lace panties that cling enticingly to your curves. With a deliberate motion, you slide them down your legs, the sight making Caleb's eyes widen in shock and desire.

Without hesitation, you lift your panties up to his mouth, forcing them in as playful means to keep him quiet. “I know you like my panties. I saw you steal a pair last time. So don't act innocent” you smile seductively, your voice dripping with playful authority before you return to your previous actions, eager to continue giving him pleasure.

Caleb's breath hitches, the soft fabric of your panties muffling any further sounds of pleasure as he watches you with wide, astonished eyes. Your confidence radiates through the room, igniting a spark within him that makes it impossible to resist.

As you kneel back down, resuming your ministrations with renewed fervor, he feels a rush of exhilaration mixed with a hint of embarrassment at being so thoroughly dominated.

The warmth of your mouth envelops him again, and he instinctively arches towards you, every flick of your tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him.

He can't help but admire your boldness, the way you command the moment with a teasing smile. “You really are something else, pip-squeak” he thinks to himself.

Driven by a mix of desire and a playful dominance, Caleb grabs you by your hair, gently but firmly urging you to take him deeper into your mouth. The sudden motion causes you to choke slightly, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you adjusts to the unexpected depth.

“Swwy” Caleb tries to apologize but the panties are still in his mouth, making him unable to do so. A hint of concern flashes in his purple eyes, but he continues, sensing that you don’t mind the intensity of the moment at all.

As Caleb's grip tightens in your hair, you feel a rush of exhilaration, the slight choke only intensifying the connection you two share. You meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with mischief and determination, encouraging him to continue despite the initial surprise.

The playful tension in the air thickens as he pushes your limits, and you respond eagerly, taking him deeper with each movement, your body instinctively rising to the challenge. Caleb's breath quickens, the mix of admiration and desire evident on his face as he witnesses your unwavering confidence.

Caleb bites down into the fabric of your panties, savoring the taste as he feels the dampness that indicates your earlier arousal. The fabric is soft against his tongue, and he can tell just how turned on you were the moment you took them off.

You watch Caleb with a mix of amusement and desire as he revels in the taste of your panties, the sight igniting a thrill within you. With a teasing smile, you lean in closer, your breath warm against his skin as you whisper “Looks like someone's enjoying my taste”.

You give Caleb one last teasing lick, eliciting a powerful reaction from him. As he comes all over your face, you can't help but smile, relishing the moment. You playfully licks your lips, savoring his taste, before wiping the liquid with your fingers and sucking them clean, enjoying the remnants of your passionate encounter.

Caleb pulls the panties out of his mouth, a hint of shyness coloring his expression as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire and vulnerability.

“Can I... keep them?” he asks, his voice low and slightly hesitant, a playful innocence contrasting with the intensity of their earlier exchanges. You meet his gaze, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you nod seductively, a smile spreading across your lips.

Author’s note

hii tysm once again for all the support, it means a lot :)) if you want, follow me on twt @ yemijng for more stuff and updates :)

[uchu-no-bashira]

Night Time Relief - Demon!Gyomei x Fem!Reader

TW: Minors do not interact. Husband Gyomei, Demon Gyomei, Dubious Consent, Incubus, Non-con Touching, Non-con elements, Breeding, Power play, Power Imbalance, Blood, Restraining, Biting, Licking, Scratching, Slight Vore(?), Predator/Prey.

A Kasugai crow delivered you orders to destroy maybe one of the most skilled killers in the forest, West of the village it preys on. Without a second thought, you make your way through the woods that night, failing to note that the area around was incomprehensibly still. The smell of petrichor fills the air as freezing raindrops fall to the Earth, shrouding the forest with the soft sound of clattering leaves. You couldn’t ignore the feeling of foreboding in your mind as your footsteps grew lighter and swifter. You could feel it burning the back of your neck, a relentless gaze waiting for you in the abyss of total darkness among the tree line behind you. With hasty eyes, you glance back and forth along the moonlit path ahead and behind you.

Being this uneasy was nothing new to you seeing as you killed demons nightly, so being unsettled from time to time was a given, but tonight? Tonight was different. What was it about this area that forced goosebumps to traverse your body as well as make your stomach turn with venomous butterflies that corrupted your nervous system? It plagued your mind so heavily that you decided to go through the checklist of red flags you’d created in your time as a slayer, counting the top three off the list.

"Darkness, check. Ominous feeling of dread, check... What was that third thing?... Fuck, I'm too scared to remember.”

Hearing you admit to fear so blatantly brought a smile to your pursuer's face, he decided to enjoy the thrill of the chase until the very last moment, so he continued to prowl around in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity to pounce. "How would she taste?" He wondered, keeping his distance while remaining as low as he could, blades of grass gently sliding across his arms, legs and stomach, boosting his sensory skills as he 'sees' the world around him essentially. He listens to your footsteps, allowing the pursuer to constantly keep track of your precise location. It didn’t make it any better that he knows his prey well, he also knows that you’re onto him. All he has to do is stay out of sight. Gyomei had to admit he was a bit disappointed in his meek beloved for not realizing how grave the danger you were in, but he also knew that when you are petrified, you don't use your mind properly.

If You'd been a bit more composed, you would have realized that his commanding aura of dominance quieted all the other creatures in the forest, leaving an eerie, deathly silence that would make even the most expert of hikers turn around and head home. With a deep breath your eyes close slowly, trying desperately to remember what it was that was throwing you off-kilter. You rely on your ears and sense of smell. There was nothing that stood out immediately except the sound of the light rain coming to a stop, so with a low grumble, you whispered to yourself. "Listen to the forest… Listen to the creek around you and the creatures-” You pause momentarily as it finally dawns on you, “There are no other sounds but the creek!… It shouldn't be this qui-”

Before you finish the sentence, a deep snarl comes from your left just as your head turns in it’s direction. Faster than you could open your eyes, a branch snapped, then Gyomei’s body crashed into you. You tumble a few times against the ground, ultimately being pinned to your back. The sound of thumping in your ears increases as you stare into a set of luminous red eyes and gaze upon ashen brown skin that was cold to the touch. Gyomei lets out a deep chuckle while pinning your small hands above your head.

"You remember too late, my love. I thought you would have realized that over an hour ago when I first entered the area." He states in a menacing baritone voice. The force of his tackle left your weapons too far away for you to reach. Regardless, you fight with the strength you have by kicking the demon's rock hard abdominals. Desperate and breathing unsteadily, you do everything imaginable to break free of Gyomei's imperishable death grip on your wrists. The force he applied made it feel like they were going to snap as you grimaced. You continued to think of a way to at least propel him up and over your head, if only you could steady your feet. He was as heavy as a fully loaded train and the sight of his bloodied canines shining in the moonlight made your breathing even more sporadic with the thought that you’d be your husband’s next meal.

Your focus was drawn to his face and how terrifying it was. It harbored black cracks all over that spread along his neck and shoulders, with four extra arms protruding from his side while two continue to pin you. The sounds of your own breaths were drowned out and dominated by his hungry growls. What could have happened to him? Why did this happen to him? He would never agree to becoming a demon… or so you thought. Is this where he’s been for the last two years since his last mission? Through the midst of your confusion, you let out an exasperated grunt, finally finding the words you want to say to him.

"Gy-Gyomei, please! It’s me, your wife, don't-'' You're interrupted as one of Gyomei's free hands comes up to your mouth, covering it in a surprisingly gentle fashion. He makes sure to not scratch your mouth or face with his blackened, serrated claws. Tears of blood flow from his eyes, down his ashen cheeks and onto yours. The cries you expelled were muffled as your own tears involuntarily slip from your eyes and mix with the blood on your face. You begin shaking your head back and forth rapidly, your breaths continuing to stagger as you adamantly try to break free, twisting your wrists until you both hear a loud pop.

The feeling of sharpened nails press into the flesh of your cheek, any more and he’d puncture it. "Shh... My love, don't make this any harder than it needs to be." He tones deeply into your ear as he leans down, the heat from his words making you release a scream into his palm in frustration. Gyomei hums before moving his frosted fingers away from your mouth, slowly tracing along the thickness of your lips before he pinches your chin in the cusp of his index finger. A sharp pain radiates the underside of your chin as his thumb nail penetrates the skin and he draws blood. The stream of red fluid tickles your trachea as you close your eyes from the burning sensation. "You act as if you don't want this… Have you not missed me in my absence?” He asks honestly.

Your breath stifles, your eyes fly open, blistered with tears of grief you’d thought long passed as you lock eyes with your hunter... With your husband. “He remembers me…” You think to yourself while continuing to wiggle your wrist. Finding a little bit of room within his large hands, you were able to break one of your hands free, although you assumed he allowed you to. You slap his hand away from your chin, then shove your palm into his face. "Get.. off... Me!..." You grunt, feet still kicking at his hardened stomach that he, of course, cannot feel. This coerces a demented chuckle from the giant as jagged teeth sink into your palm, burning instantly. Suddenly, the space around your waist is tugged as his nails cut into your sides easily like a knife gliding through butter. He digs his nails in deep, stopping just before any major arteries as he holds you steady.

More of your blood trickles over his fingertips and a feral growl escapes his chest. A loud scream begins to escape your own mouth, the same burning in your chin earlier now ravaging the entirety of your body, the nerves screaming in pain across the synapses in your brain… But then… The area grows warm and sensitive, changing the feral screams of your voice into pleasured moans. Gyomei's top left arm continues to hold one of your wrists, while the top right that you’d smacked away, grabs your offending bloody hand and he drags his tongue over the wound he'd made.

He laps at your palm sensually, slurping on your red nectar while he chuckles. "You know there is no point in this." He tones before licking his lips. "You're too sweet to let go and far too valuable to me to share with anyone else."

You scoff at his words in disgust. "Listen... To yourself!! You- Anh~!" A moan quivers in your voice as his nails squeeze deeper into your sides. "You sound... Like a... Monster! This isn't you! You're not like this!..." You whimper, eyes closing as you turn your head away from what used to be your loving husband. Gyomei continues to lick your wound, becoming even more roused by the position he's in. He kisses his way down your wrist, then smiles playfully.

“But you're enjoying yourself and don't want me to stop... Isn't that right?" He asks in a smooth tone of voice. You hated yourself for agreeing with the demon, a faint heat creeping along your cheeks as you refused to answer, your body now basking in the warmth surging through your body. His carnivorous licks grow more pleasant with each passing second. You look up at the demon with curiosity plaguing your mind.

"Exactly... What kind of demon are you? Why did you become a demon? How could you.. Leave me for so long?" You ask in a medium pitched, breathy voice. Your arousal was obvious to the demon towering above you. He gently responds back while placing your hand back in its original place in his large palm, pinning it above your head again.

"My only reason for becoming a demon was to meet you again. I was dying a painful death on my final mission as a Slayer and could not bear the thought of never saying goodbye… So, I did what I must to meet you once more. I try not to dwell on my blunder, as what I wished for finally came to pass.” He tones while dragging his nail along the supple flesh of your skin. “As far as what kind of demon, it should be obvious by now, my love. Tell me, what do you think I am?" He asks while taking the finger on his bottom right hand to the top of your slayer uniform, then drags it down to the waistline of your pants. The sound of fabric tearing and buttons popping could be heard as your breasts burst out of the torn clothing.

The sound of the demon purring signals that he likes what he sensed, your overwhelming aroma of lust teasing his nose and tongue as he palms your chest. The cold wet air grazing your bare flesh and nipples pulls a stifled moan from your lips before you answer. "An... Incubus?..." Gyomei nods his head slowly, then places his forehead to yours.

“Will you allow me to indulge in your warmth once more, y/n? I may be a demon… But I still care deeply about you, that much I have not forgotten.” He asks while looping his finger on the inside of your pants. You couldn’t help but relent and nod your head. You’d missed his touch so much for the past two years that he was away. He grins at you lovingly, then begins to drag his finger from the base of your collarbone to your navel tearing the flesh of your torso as he goes. The sound of your moans flooding his ear brought bliss throughout his body.

He uses his last two arms to spread your legs, exposing a precious pussy that was oozing cum prematurely as he rubs his clothed dick against your sensitive bulb. His venom had worked just as he wanted it to. He feels along your tiny frame as you fully submit to your lust. With your head tilted back, eyes half lidded and your body flushed beyond all reason, you position your hips against the underside of his dick. The massive output of steam from your body signals to him that you’re all his and your resistance has dissipated. Gyomei giggles at you before dragging his tongue along your bloody torso. "You taste amazing, my love…" He whispers as removes his claws from your waist and free’s his large dick from his pants, then lines it up at your opening. “This will hurt a bit.”

As he pushes his hips forward, his dick seemingly splits you up the middle and presses into your cervix as you let out a feral moan. How thrilling it felt to be under your husband once again albeit under less than ideal circumstances. Here you were, bare as a newborn child on the forest floor, mating with a demon of astronomical size and strength. Each thrust into your tight hole had you seeing stars and squeezing your nails into your palms. “T-to much!... H-hurts!” You cry as tears of pleasure start to careen down your cheeks. Gyomei snarls as he leans in to bite your neck, injecting more venom into you, soothing your pain while feeding himself in the process as your scream takes on a more pleasured tone.

Gyomei drags his tongue along your neck slowly and with the tantalizing taste of iron on his tongue accompanied by the feeling of his dick being squeezed and sucked into your greedy pussy has soft, pleased growls leaving his chest with each snap of his hips. He could lose himself in this sensation and he does. You’re intoxicating to this man and he can’t stop himself as he goes in a second time, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. Your heavy breathing and moaning has your heart pumping his venom through your veins at an exponential rate, causing you to cum all over his pelvis as you take him in his entirety.

“F-fuck!... S-so big!… S-so good!~” You whimper, your pussy spasms as you feel a dagger like sensation piercing into your collar bone, the sound of squelching filling the air as your eyes drift to the back of your head. The feeling of his cold skin against your own causes temporary relief as you continue to release guttural moans into Gyomei’s ear. The large demon continues to drive into you harder, deeper, faster until he feels you nearing your breaking point. He squeezes your wrists tighter, pumping into you sloppily as creamy white slick spreads to his abdomen.

“Almost...” He pleads in a deep and needy tone as he angles himself to fuck into your sweet spot. The sheer feeling of him pushing into your tightening hole was too much to bear, what tips him over the edge was the sound of your voice breaking as you orgasm loudly, the sound reverberating in his ears causing him to let out a deep groan that vibrates your chest as he shoots thick, hot ropes of his seed into you.

Both of you were breathing heavily and you’d looked like you’d been mauled by a demon. Bite marks everywhere and close to severe blood loss. You look up at him with tired eyes, the adrenaline from his venom wearing off as you ask breathily,

“Are you going to devour me now?”

Gyomei chuckles and lets go of your bruised wrists.

“Oh, my love… this is just the first of our encounters. I’ve decided this will not be the last of us meeting. As I said: You're too sweet to let go and far too valuable to me to share with anyone else... ”

… And you didn’t mind that. Not. One Bit.

[thebunnednun]

"EAT YER SOUP!" part.2

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting , Wc: Long like his truama+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: A snowball fight escalates into a dramatic battle for the icy throne between the, "Snow Empress," and the, "Demon King," of class 1a and ending with you becoming sick and Katsuki taking care of his sweet little Wife.

Tons of romantic flirting, promises of fun and sexy times awaits. Reader has a quirk.

Ya like Jane Austen? You'll love this.

Part 2 of 2.

“Gotcha, Empress!” 

Katsuki purrs as he yanks you out of the tube.

You barely have time to register what’s happening before instinct takes over. 

Twisting in his grasp, you shoot a blast of snow from your palms directly into his face. He stumbles backward with a loud, disgruntled, “FUCK!,” releasing you just enough for you to lose your balance.

You feel the icy structure under your feet slip away, gravity pulling you toward the ground below. But then, just as suddenly, his hand shoots out again—hot, calloused fingers curling around your wrist, yanking you firmly back into his grasp.

“Damn it, lady!” Katsuki grunts, stumbling from the momentum. You both crash down together in a heap of tangled limbs inside the tube, the tight space forcing you into an awkward but oddly secure position.

Your head is tucked against his chest, and you realize with a startled flush that he’s holding you like you’re made of glass. His right hand cradles the back of your head, shielding it from the cold, unyielding surface of the plastic. His legs are splayed out, braced against the sides of the tube to cushion your fall, while his left arm is wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you steady and close.

For a moment, neither of you says a word, the only sounds are the faint laughter and concerned murmurs of your friends outside, muffled by the igloo walls. It’s quiet in here—warm, even, despite the cold air trapped in the tube.

Then Katsuki shifts slightly, muttering a gruff, “Here.”

You tilt your head, trying to look up at him in the darkness. It’s hard to see much, but you catch a glimpse of something familiar—a flash of cherry red.

Your robe.

He’s got it wrapped around one of his hands, and with surprising gentleness, he drapes it over your shoulders, pulling it snugly around you. You blink, momentarily stunned.

“Is… Is this part of your plan to catch me?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s no heat in his voice. “You’re gonna get sick running around in your damn underwear like that.” You scoff lightly, though there’s a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the robe. “I’m not going to get sick,” you argue. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Katsuki’s grip on you tightens just a fraction. “Yeah, well, ’m not the psycho who stripped down to their socks in the middle of a fight,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You grin, unable to resist teasing him.

“Did that bother you?”

His hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the soft spot there that you know he loves. “’s there to bother me?” he counters smoothly, though there’s a dangerous edge of possessiveness in his tone. 

“At the end of the day, yer all mine.”

Your smile softens as you hum quietly, the tension in your body melting away. You dust some stray snow off his shoulder and settle your head more comfortably against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat.

“Hmm,” you murmur, snuggling into his warmth despite the awkward position. “So… what do we do now?”

Katsuki’s chest rumbles beneath your cheek as he exhales deeply. His fingers trace idle patterns on your lower back, the gesture so tender.

“We wait,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Wait for you to stop acting like a crazy-ass queen, or wait for me to figure out how to kick your ass in here without breakin’ this damn tube.”

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Or,” you suggest, your tone playful, “We could just call it a truce.”

He snorts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “A truce? After all that shit talk? Not a chance.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t make a move to push you away, and you don’t make any effort to pull back. Instead, you both lie there, tangled together in the confined space, the world outside forgotten.

It’s so nice. 

The cold bites at your exposed skin, but it feels distant now—an afterthought, dulled by the warmth radiating from Katsuki. His touch is slow and deliberate, his hands heating slightly as they glide across your back, over the curve of your back, and along your arms. The sensation is heavenly, like stepping out of a steaming bath and being wrapped in a freshly-warmed towel, soft and comforting.

He’s done that for you before, countless times, but now it feels different. More intimate. The rough pads of his fingers, usually calloused from years of training, are surprisingly gentle as they trail over your skin, thawing the cold little by little.

You shiver, though not from the chill.

“Stay still, Empress,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing edge. His warm breath ghosts over the top of your head, carrying the faint but familiar scent of mint and caramel. “Can’t have ya turnin’ into an ice cube on me.”

Before you can respond, you feel his lips press against the crown of your head, soft and lingering. It’s so tender, so unlike the fiery, brash public persona you’ve come to love, that your heart skips a beat.

Then, he tilts your head back, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail—your frozen cheeks, your trembling lips, the soft rise and fall of your breath. He leans in and brushes his lips against the tip of your frozen nose, the warmth of his mouth shocking against the cold.

“Such a pain in my ass,” he murmurs in that old tongue, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and affection.

“Running around half-naked, challenging me like you’ve got a chance.”

His words make you bristle, but before you can retort, he kisses your cheek, soft and warm, before trailing his lips down to your jawline. The gentle nips he delivers there make your breath hitch, and you feel the curve of his smirk against your skin.

“But damn, if you’re not the prettiest little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he continues, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. 

“Even when you’re being a stubborn, reckless brat.”

You scoff, but it comes out weaker than you’d like, especially when his lips skim over the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands slide over your shoulders, his thumbs brushing along the bare skin exposed by your earlier stunt.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet firm, a quiet declaration that sends a shiver down your spine. His breath fans against your collarbone as he plants another kiss there, and you can feel his smirk deepening. 

“Every. Damn. Inch.”

Despite his teasing, there’s a reverence in his touch, a quiet adoration in the way his fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, the line of your neck. He’s worshiping you, in his own Katsuki way—praising you even as he mocks you.

“You really thought you could beat me with this little stunt?” he whispers, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear now, his tone equal parts amused and affectionate. 

“Cute.”

You let out a soft huff, trying to maintain your composure despite the way he’s unraveling you with every kiss, every word. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?” you manage, your voice just as curt as his earlier tone.

His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. “Barely,” he shoots back, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder again. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Katsuki pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your back as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes soften, and for just a moment, the teasing fades, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“But you’re also a damn idiot,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I’m supposed to protect you, you know? Even from yourself.”

You blink up at him, stunned by the sudden tenderness in his voice. Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you again, this time on your lips. It’s not fiery or rushed—it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. 

Like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t put into words into that one kiss.

When he finally pulls back, his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, less cocky. “There,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a near whisper. “All warmed up, Princess?”

You hum, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest once more. “For now,” you murmur, feeling his arms tighten around you.

The snow outside may be cold, but here, in his arms, you’ve never felt warmer.

You shift slightly in Katsuki's hold, your cheek pressed against his as his arms remain firmly wrapped around you. He’s warm, almost blazing against the cold, and it’s easy to let yourself sink into the security of his touch. But you’re not done with him yet. He wanted to play games earlier, and so can you.

Tilting your head up, you look at him, your expression softening as you press a cold kiss to the underside of his jaw. He stiffens slightly, the contrast of your chilled lips on his hot skin sending a shiver through him. You smirk at his reaction, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck as you plant another kiss along his jawline, slower this time.

“Why so grumpy, Suki?” you murmur against his skin, your voice low and teasing, just enough to tickle. “You’ve been rough with everyone all day. What’s gotten into you?”

His ruby eyes narrow as he glances down at you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “Don’t start, Peach,” he warns, though his voice lacks its usual bite. You feign innocence, batting your lashes up at him as you press yourself closer, your fingers trailing along the edge of his collar. 

“Start what?” you ask sweetly, your lips curving into a sly smile. 

“I’m just worried about you, my scary Demon King. You’ve been acting so... mean.”

He snorts, his grip tightening slightly on your waist. “Yer playing dirty,” he mutters, his eyes flickering to your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

“Dirty?” you echo, gasping theatrically as you tilt your head to the side, your cold nose brushing against his cheek. “I’d never. I’m just trying to understand why my handsome grumpy husband has been acting like he’s got a stick up his—”

“Careful,” he growls, cutting you off, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone now.

You grin, leaning up to whisper against his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. 

“Oh, am I pressing your buttons? How unlike me.”

His breath hitches slightly, but he masks it with a scoff.

“You think yer so funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re adorable,” you counter, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your own sparkling with mischief.

“All this aggressive ‘playtime,’ and for what? Because you don’t know how to talk to your friends?”

That gets a reaction. 

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Let me guess,” you continue, your tone softening as your hand comes up to cup his cheek. “You want their company, but instead of asking like a normal person, you blow up and act like a big scary Demon King. But you’re not, Katsuki. Not really.”

His gaze hardens, but you press on, your thumb brushing against his lips. “Right now, I don’t see some fearsome tyrant ruling over his snowy kingdom. No,” you say, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper, 

“I see a man who’s too afraid to ask for what he wants.”

His grip on you falters for a moment, and you can feel the tension in his body as your words sink in. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, you know,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “You don’t have to keep shutting everyone out. They’re your friends, Katsuki. They love you. We love you.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his crimson eyes searching yours as if trying to find a way to argue. But instead of snapping back, he lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Such a pain,” he mutters, his voice rough but quieter now.

You smile, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“And you love me for it,~” you tease, your voice light.

His lips twitch into a faint smirk, and he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one that melts away the cold and reminds you of the fire that’s always burning in him—passionate, intense, and fiercely loyal.

It’s a kiss that speaks of more than words ever could, and for now, it’s enough to distract you.

“Have either of you won yet?! This is supposed to be a timed competition!”

You both hear Iida’s voice echoing through the training grounds, a mixture of authority and exasperation as he shouts. Katsuki scoffs, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glares at the tube he’s stuck in. “Like hell I’m letting you ruin this,” he growls, his voice dripping with determination. Then his gaze flicks to you. 

“What do you wanna do, huh?” 

You smirk, a spark of mischief flashing across your face.

“I wanna see if you really think you can beat me.”

He barks a short laugh. “Tch, bring it on.”

Nodding, you crawl over him, careful not to get stuck yourself. Once you’re free, you reach down, grabbing onto his arms and tugging as hard as you can. He grits his teeth, curses flying out of his mouth, and with one final heave, there’s a loud pop! as he’s yanked free.

“’Bout damn time!” he snaps, but you’re already sprinting into the darkness, your laughter echoing in the icy air.

“Catch me if ya can, Dynamight!” you call over your shoulder, waving as you vanish into the snow.

Katsuki mutters a string of expletives, his boots crunching as he gives chase. You dive into the snow, letting it swallow you whole as you melt seamlessly into its icy embrace. Watching from your hidden vantage point, you see him searching for you, his eyes scanning the terrain.

Suddenly, you reappear, popping up a few feet in front of him. 

“Hey, want to go for a swim?” you ask with a grin, your hands already glowing faintly.

“What the hell are you—” he starts, but then you flash your hands and a wave of icy energy radiates outward.

The snow around you begins to melt, transforming into water as ice walls rise up, trapping the two of you and a handful of benches. The area quickly fills like a giant tub, the cold breeze coming off the water  enough to make everyone shiver.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Katsuki yells, his palms already sparking as he blasts at the ice walls, trying to escape. You dart through the water, grabbing onto his boots before he can blast his way out. “Oh no, you don’t!” you laugh, yanking him under.

The two of you wrestle in the frigid water, your punches landing on his chest with satisfying thuds. Of course, his solid frame doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, which only makes you more determined.

As you’re grappling, the sky above suddenly darkens, heavy clouds rolling in. Snowflakes begin to fall, thick and fast. But this snow… it’s not yours.

“What the…?” you mutter, glancing up.

Katsuki notices too, his expression shifting from irritation to confusion. “What’re you laughin’ about, dumbass?” he growls as you giggle.

“Looks like even nature’s on my side,” you taunt, sticking your tongue out at him. Katsuki’s lips twitch, and then he’s laughing too, a wild, competitive sound that echoes in the icy dome. He raises one gloved hand to cover the left side of his face as he mouths to you,

“I’ma play your ass like the drums when ‘m done!”

He charges at you, but you summon an army of snow creatures, their icy forms springing up around you like loyal soldiers.

“That’s cheating!” he roars, blasting through the nearest snowman with ease.

“Kiss my ass, Kats!~” you shout back, diving under the snow before he can grab you.

The chaos is exhilarating—snow flying everywhere, the water splashing wildly, your classmates shouting from the sidelines as they cheer you on. You’re so caught up in the fun that you don’t notice it at first—the loud, ominous crack that echoes through the arena.

It’s only when Katsuki freezes, his eyes darting to the ice dam behind you, that your stomach drops.

The structure is splintering, fractures snaking across its surface as water begins to seep through. Katsuki’s heat combined with the pressure of the water—it’s all too much.

“Shit,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Katsuki’s eyes lock onto yours, and he yells,

“MOVE!”

But you’re already spinning around, the sound of the ice giving way roaring in your ears as the dam begins to collapse. The massive wave of water surges forward, unstoppable and icy cold, pushing everything out and rushing a wall of ice straight toward you.

Suddenly, a burst of heat slams into your back. Before you can process what’s happening, a strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down, just as the dam bursts, water cascading like a tidal wave.

You brace for impact, but instead of icy water swallowing you whole, you feel warmth—familiar and searing—surrounding you. Katsuki is on top of you, shielding your body from the chaos with his own. His heat crackles in the air, steam rising as his explosions counter the freezing onslaught.

“Damn it,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear.

“Are you tryin' to get yourself killed, you cracked nut?!”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, there’s another surge of heat—this time coming from behind you both. Katsuki rolls the two of you to the side just as a thick, fiery wall erupts, blocking the remaining water. Shoto stands there, his dual quirks in full display, steam curling off his hands as he pushes the wave back with calculated precision.

When the chaos subsides, you find yourself kinda laying on the cold, damp ground, still held Katsuki’s arms. He’s breathing hard, his hair plastered to his forehead, his crimson eyes blazing with frustration and something else.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, his hands still on your waist, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re over reacting,” you shoot back, your voice laced with teasing, even though your heart is racing.

“OVER REACTING?!” His voice rises, and you can see his hands twitch, barely holding back an explosion. 

“Ya almost got us both killed, and you think this is funny?!”

Shoto steps closer, crossing his arms as he surveys the scene. “You two seem to have a habit of turning simple fun into near-death experiences,” he comments dryly, a hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic tone. You glance at him with a grin. 

“It’s called marriage, Sho. Look it up.” You see your brother smile but he tilts his head in that curious way leading you to follow his line of sight to the man pinned underneath you. 

Katsuki is livid.

Not the kind of angry that makes him shout—no, this was the simmering, teeth-gritting kind of fury, the one that burned hotter than his explosions ever could. His chest rose and fell beneath you as his ruby-red eyes locked onto yours. His whole face was flushed—whether from the cold, the embarrassment of you straddling him in front of your classmates, or the adrenaline of saving you, you weren’t entirely sure. But one thing was crystal clear: 

Ya mans is pisssssed!

“You—” His voice was low and guttural, barely above a growl. His hands gripped your waist instinctively, either to steady you or to hold you in place—probably both. 

“You reckless little—”

“You’re welcome,” you cut in smoothly, leaning forward with a grin that you knew would only rile him up further. Your hands braced themselves on his broad shoulders as you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? No thank-you for saving your ass from being bored?”

He scoffed, the sound laced with frustration as his fingers dug lightly into your sides. “My ass? You nearly drowned us both, you lunatic!”

“Drowned?” you echoed, laughing softly. “Please. You know water doesn’t bother me, and you wouldn’t drown if you tried. You’re too stubborn to die.”

“Not the point!” he barked, sitting up straighter so that your faces were mere inches apart. “You don’t think—”

“And you are simply thinking too much, Katsuki,” you shot back, pressing a ice cold finger against his cheek, just over the scrape from earlier. 

“See? Perfect balance.”

His jaw clenched as you rubbed the spot absentmindedly, and for a moment, he just stared at you. His hands, still on your waist, twitched as though he was debating whether to shove you off or pull you closer. You could almost see the internal struggle playing out in his head, but before he could make a decision, Iida’s stern voice broke through the charged air.

“Midoriya! Shoji! Someone help me separate these two before they start another battle!”

The cacophony of voices surrounded you as Iida and Shoji rushed over, their hurried steps crunching against the frost-covered ground. Shoto, still exuding heat from his fire quirk, stood a few feet away with an unreadable expression. You and Katsuki sit tangled on the wet ground near the bleachers, your legs straddling over his hips as he tries to simultaneously catch his breath and glare daggers at everything and everyone around him. His crimson eyes darted to you, his cheeks flushed—not just from exertion or the cold but from the mortifyingly public position you’d landed in.

His voice was a low growl, barely audible over the commotion. 

“Get off me, princess.”

But there wasn’t as much heat in his words as there usually was. You smirked, leaning forward just enough to invade his personal space. “But you look so comfy,” you teased, your hands braced against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, quick and strong. 

“What’s wrong?~ Too flustered to admit I won?”

Before he could spit out one of his scathing remarks, Iida cleared his throat, his voice booming as he declared, “Both participants are officially out of bounds! However—” his hand gestured with the precision of a referee,

“Katsuki’s head crossed the line first, meaning the winner is our Empress!”

The collective cheers from your classmates rose into the frosty air. Izuku clapped his hands, his smile practically glowing. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious as he bounded closer.

Your classmates swarm the scene, a mix of laughter and concern. Mina is practically doubled over, wheezing from laughing too hard. Kirishima pats Shoto on the back, though he looks like he’s trying not to laugh himself.

“Yo, Bakugo,” Kaminari says with a grin, “You good there, man? Looks like she’s got you pinned.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Pikachu!” Katsuki roars, finally shoving you off his lap as he gets to his feet, his entire face red—not from the cold, but pure, unadulterated embarrassment. 

The sound of your friends’ laughter and teasing chants pulls you out of your little bubble. Mina was cackling, Sero was nudging Kaminari and whispering something that made both of them grin, and Shoto stood nearby, arms crossed as Shinsou rested an elbow on him. His expression was as cool as ever, but his raised brow said: ‘Why is this fool touching me?’

“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” you said lightly, smirking as you slid off Katsuki’s lap (pity) and onto the ground beside him. He immediately stood, brushing snow and water from his clothes with a grumble, and shot a glare at anyone brave enough to look his way.

“And what the hell are you all looking at?!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to send Kaminari and Sero scurrying off to pretend they hadn’t been watching. You stood as well, brushing yourself off and turning to address the group. With a playful grin, you held your hands up.

“Alright, alright, listen up! I’m calling it. Katsuki’s been properly defeated by yours truly!”

“Not a chance,” Katsuki growled, stepping closer so his shoulder brushed against yours. 

“I wasn’t done with you yet.”

“Oh, I think you were,” you tease, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “And besides, Iida said your head crossed the line first. Therefore….” You pause for dramatic effect as you push your wet hair from your forehead.

“I win!”

You dust yourself off, standing and giving a dramatic bow to your friends. “And that, my dear friends, is how you win a fight against the mighty Katsuki Bakugou!”

“Win?! Like hell you did!” Katsuki snaps, but his protests are drowned out by the screams and laughter of your friends. The group cheered, and you saw Katsuki’s eye twitch, though he didn’t argue further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his scowl deepening as Izuku approached, beaming.

“Congratulations! That was incredible fighting, though! You two really—”

“Shut it, nerd,” Katsuki muttered, turning away, though his ears were still red. You reached up to give his cheek a teasing pat, earning a glare in return. 

“Aww, don’t be so grumpy, Katsuki. Everyone’s just happy to see their favorite Demon King and Snow Empress putting on such a good show.”

“Keep calling me that, and you’re gonna wish you drowned,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. As the group dispersed, laughing and chatting about the chaos you’d caused, Katsuki leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. 

“Next time, I’m not letting you get away with pulling that shit. Got it?”

You grinned, leaning up on your toes to press a quick, cold kiss to his lips before darting away. 

“We’ll see, Suki. Better luck next time!”

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Crazy girl,” but when his eyes met yours, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave the smallest nod, as if to concede the point—begrudgingly, of course. You stood, brushing the snow from your clothes before holding your hands up to silence the crowd. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the warmth of victory—and Katsuki’s heated gaze—kept you steady. 

“Alright, alright, listen up!” you called, your voice carrying over the noise. 

“While I know Katsuki’s... ‘methods’ today might have been a little much—”

“A little?” Shinsou interrupted, arching a brow from where he stood near the sidelines. You shot him a warning glare, an ice ball already forming in your hand. 

“Don’t interrupt me, or else I shall make sure you end up in the ice next time,” you said, your tone deceptively sweet.

He wisely shut up, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Turning back to the group, you continued, 

“As I was saying, Katsuki just wanted to play with everyone. He’s not the best at showing it—” you glanced at him, and he scoffed, crossing his arms as if to deflect the attention—“But he privately expressed his regrets, and I think if he says he’s sorry, we should all forgive him. After all,” you added with a grin, 

“He did save your Empress from the flood, didn’t he?”

There was a pause before Shoto, standing just behind you, said dryly, 

“I think that’s letting him off easy, dear sister.”

You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Forgiveness is one of my virtues as your Empress, kind prince. Maybe you should try it.” Before Shoto could respond, Shinsou piped up again. 

“Yeah? Where were those virtues when Katsuki nearly blew Shoto up earlier?”

Without missing a beat, you hurled the ice ball straight at his face, nailing him squarely in the forehead. 

“I warned you not to try me, Hitoshi,” you clipped, your tone light but with enough edge to make him hold his hands up in surrender, albeit with a chuckle. The laughter subsided as your gaze softened. You turned toward Katsuki, instinctively reaching out to brush your fingers over the scrape on his cheek. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

But he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, the group falling silent as they watched the two of you. Katsuki’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he dropped it to his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well?” you prompted, raising a brow at him. “Don’t you have something to say?”

His glare swept over the group, daring anyone to speak before he finally muttered, 

“Tch… Sorry.”

The reaction was immediate—cheers and laughter erupted, your classmates all grinning as they accepted his rare apology. Kirishima clapped him on the back, earning a string of curses in return, while Mina leaned into Sero, whispering loudly about how “cute” the whole thing was.

You grinned, raising your arms in victory. “See? All forgiven!”

Katsuki groaned, burying his face in his scarf. “Yer all idiots, ‘m fucking surrounded,” he muttered, though the faintest of smirks tugged at his lips. And just like that, the chaos returned, laughter and playful banter filling the air once more. Your husband might be grumpy, but you knew Kats wouldn’t have it any other way—

And neither would you.

Sato, Aoyama, and Tokoyami raise their voices dramatically, calling for cheers to echo across the snowy battlefield for, “The Snow Empress.” Your classmates burst into applause, whoops, and laughter as the victorious mood spreads. You wave to your ‘subjects’ with an exaggerated regal flair, their joyous energy lifting the weight of the icy battle you’d just survived.

A soft crown of snow builds itself upon your hair, the delicate flakes kissing your cheeks and remaining in perfect crystalline patterns on the bone. Ice glitters like tiny diamonds along your exposed neck as you fidget, pulling your cherry red robe tighter around your shoulders. The contrast of its vibrant hue against the snowy backdrop makes you appear otherworldly, even as you shift in place, your furry Juicy Couture baby pink boots sinking slightly into the frost beneath you.

You glance over at the bleachers where Shoto had folded your clothes neatly, retrieving them with careful hands. The snow glistens along the hem of your robe as you slip your white leggings back on, followed by the matching white sweater dress of your hero uniform. The soft fabric hugs you, a stark yet elegant complement to the winter wonderland surrounding you.

Katsuki watches, transfixed. His sharp vermillion eyes linger as your fingers tug at the chain tucked beneath your neckline, gently pulling it free. The glint of metal catches the light—your wedding ring. He sees the reverence in the way you slip it on, the tender care with which you give it a few deliberate turns to ensure it won’t accidentally fall off. It’s such a small act, but it anchors him, rooting him to the moment in a way that nothing else could.

You stretch, exhaling softly, and grab your scarf, gingerly wrapping it around your shoulders. The motion feels regal, every bit as graceful as you appear, your figure framed by the gentle cascade of snow. You look every inch a snow empress—fair, kind, just, and breathtakingly beautiful. Katsuki’s chest tightens as he watches you, his queen.

He doesn’t mind the biting cold, the flurry of snowflakes that dust his own hair, or even the distant sound of Class 1-A laughing and shouting as they play nearby. He doesn’t care about whatever apology he’s been made to give—it doesn’t matter, not when you’re here. As long as he has you, he thinks, everything else fades away.

You are his peace.

As everyone returns to playing in the snow, you feel Katsuki’s rough, calloused fingers slip into yours. He wordlessly pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders, the warmth and faint scent of burnt caramel enveloping you. Before you can thank him, he’s already tugging one of his gloves on your hand and adjusts it properly.

“Ya know somethin’,” you say softly, catching his attention. His crimson eyes dart to yours, confused but curious.

“‘Bout what?”

“About you speaking like you do in those romance novels you secretly read,” you tease, leaning closer. “I liked it. You should do it more often.” His ears turn red instantly, and his mouth opens to protest—but then he pauses, narrowing his eyes. 

“…Really?”

“Mhm.”

You smile warmly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“Truely, very sexy. I was so happy you indulged my games.”

Katsuki adjusts his scarf, clearly trying to cover his flustered expression. Without warning, he grabs your ungloved hand, shoves it deep into his warm pants pocket, and pulls you close enough that your noses nearly touch.

“‘Course I did,” he mutters, his voice gruff yet soft. 

“Yer my wife. ‘m supposed to.”

You melt into his warmth, a contented smile spreading across your face as you snuggle against him. The moment feels peaceful—until you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve.

“Would you help me build a snowman?”

Shoto’s calm, steady voice cuts in. Katsuki scowls at him immediately, but before he can bark out a sarcastic retort, you nod, linking your other hand with Shoto’s.

“Of course! Let’s make the best snowman ever!” you declare, already feeling excitement bubbling up.

Shoto and Katsuki exchange a brief glance, and to your surprise, they share a small, almost imperceptible smile. Katsuki shakes his head and mutters something about how ridiculous this all is before letting you go. The three of you join the others, but as you kneel in the snow to start building, a strange sensation ripples through your body. You feel a tickle in your nose, but before you can react—

“Ack!-Achoo!”

A sudden burst of flame shoots out as you sneeze, singeing a patch of snow. At the same moment, Shoto lets out an equally loud sneeze, accidentally summoning a quick hailstorm that pelts everyone nearby. The two of you fall over, blinking rapidly at the chaos you’ve just caused. Kirishima jogs over, concern in his eyes as he asks,

“Are you guys okay?!”

You’re about to laugh it off when a heavy ominous aura rises behind you. Before you can turn around, you’re suddenly hoisted off the ground and tossed over Katsuki’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“What the hell—?!” you yelp, flailing slightly.

With his other hand, Katsuki grabs the back of Shoto’s collar like he’s reprimanding a naughty puppy. 

“THIS IS THE FUCKING SHIT I TALK ABOUT!” he yells, his voice echoing across the field.

Everyone bursts into laughter, even Shoto, who looks mildly dazed but surprisingly amused. Katsuki stomps away from the group with both of you in tow, ranting the whole way about,

“Fire quirks, Snow quirks, and dumbass pettiness that’ll kill someone one day.”

Through your laughter, you manage to gasp out,

“Katsuki! Put me down!”

“FUCK NO!”

—————

The soft hum of Divorce Court plays in the background as you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by layers of blankets that feel like a protective cocoon. Beside you, a small trash bin is stuffed with tissues, the evidence of your persistent sneezes and sniffles. Two cups rest within arm’s reach on the side table—one filled with soda, the other with ice water—and the coffee table in front of you is covered with three bowls of chicken noodle soup, one spicy, one mild, and one piping hot. Despite the thoughtful variety, only two of them are fully eaten, the steam long since dissipated.

You yawn softly, snuggling deeper into your blankets, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment—until a warm, familiar weight wraps around your shoulders. A pair of strong arms encircle you, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head, soft but deliberate. 

You know that touch anywhere.

Before you can even lift your head, Katsuki hops clean over the couch, landing next to you with a thud that makes the floor groan.

“I hate when you do that,” you grumble, your voice hoarse from your cold. “Kills the sectional cushions.”

“Yeah? Couch’ll live,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back and pulling you closer to him despite your complaints. His rough hand rubs gentle circles on your legs back through the blankets, his warmth seeping into you as he glances down at the coffee table. His vermillion eyes narrow when he notices your mostly untouched bowl of soup.

The living room glowed with a warm, golden hue, the soft crackle of the fireplace filling the quiet. The walls were adorned with framed photos—snapshots of your wedding day, candid moments from family dinners, and Katsuki’s rare, begrudging smiles caught on camera. 

Plants in mismatched pots thrived on the windowsills and shelves, trailing vines and vibrant leaves spilling into the cozy space. The large sectional couch, well-worn but plush, was draped in layers of soft throws and knitted blankets, a sign of countless movie nights and lazy Sundays. The shelves were cluttered with life—books with broken spines, small trinkets from vacations, and a few All Might figurines Katsuki swore were for ‘inspiration’. It was a home that had been built and filled with love, laughter, (and the occasional shouting match.)

Katsuki sat on his usual cushion, his nose and cheeks still pink from the biting cold he’d endured earlier, the evidence of your storm clinging faintly to his skin. His ash-blond hair was messy from raking his fingers through it too many times, and he was dressed in his usual "at-home" lounge wear, a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms, (fucking tasty as shit), loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and mismatched socks—one gray, one with orange stripes. 

So why the fuck he was focused on the bowl was beyond you. 

His expression was torn somewhere between irritation and concern as he stared down at you, buried under what looked like every blanket in the house.

“Ya didn’t eat it?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. His crimson eyes flicked to the bowl of soup sitting on the coffee table, steam no longer rising from it. His frown deepened as he picked it up, inspecting it like it had personally betrayed him.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, retreating further under the fortress of blankets. “I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, glaring at the soup as if it held the answers to all your problems. His hands glowed faintly as he warmed the bowl with practiced ease, steam curling up once more as he gave the soup a stir.

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said firmly, scooping up a spoonful and bringing it toward your face.

“Nooo,” you whined, burrowing deeper into the covers. 

“I don’t wanna.”

“Stop bein’ a brat,” he growled, leaning closer and shoving the spoon just inches from your face.

“ ‘m not hungry!” Your voice was muffled, almost petulant, from beneath the layers.

Katsuki let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yer impossible.” He muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked any real bite. Still, he didn’t give up. He set the bowl in his lap and tugged at the edge of your blankets, peeling them back just enough to reveal your face. Your cheeks were pale, your lips slightly chapped, and your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

“Just one bite,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. 

“C’mon, I made it just how you like it. For me, yeah?”

You peeked out from the blankets, meeting his crimson eyes. The warmth in his gaze was hard to ignore, but you still shook your head, stubborn to the end. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed, shifting closer. “I didn’t wanna do this, but yer askin’ for it.” 

He leaned down, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his breath warm on your face. You can see all his pretty freckles up close and you wanna kiss his eyelashes because damn it, the man looks so pretty. But, as if sensing your distraction, Katsuki raises one firm, very warm hand, up your leg, past your inner thighs and tummy, all the way to rest over your heart, the other hand still holding the bowl. 

“Eat yer soup,” he murmured, his tone low, with a hint of something that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Please.”

You blinked up at him, the sudden shift in his tone making your resolve waver. His lips ghosted over your forehead, a lingering kiss pressing heat into your skin, and then he smirked against your temple.

“C’mon, sweet princess,” he whispered, voice dripping with a mix of affection and mischief. 

“Be good for your king. Just a bite.”

With a dramatic sigh, you finally gave in, parting your lips slightly. Katsuki grinned triumphantly, scooping up a spoonful of soup and gently feeding it to you. The warmth spread through your body instantly, soothing your throat and melting away a sliver of your stubbornness.

“There,” he whispers, his smirk widening. “See? Told ya ’s good,” he mutters, scooping another bite.

You hummed softly, too tired to argue as you leaned into him, and Katsuki couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. His queen—stubborn, infuriating, but his. And as long as you were safe and warm in his arms, he didn’t mind one bit.

“You’re so smug,” you tease, but this time, you don’t hide as he brings the spoon to your lips again.

“Damn right I am,” he replies, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before continuing his self-imposed mission of making sure you eat. You look up at Katsuki after swallowing another spoonful of soup, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “So,” you murmur, voice soft but teasing, “Did you have fun today?”

“Tch,” he grunts, leaning back slightly but keeping his legs planted firmly on the floor. 

“I guess.”

You smile at his nonchalant tone, knowing full well he had a good time. “What was your favorite part, then?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly as he stares at you, but he doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, I have to guess, huh?” you say with a mock sigh, tapping a finger against your chin dramatically. “Alright, was it the snowball fight? When Kaminari accidentally got a mouthful of slush because of you?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, then it was when I got crowned the Snow Empress and made my beautiful kingdom?”

Another shake.

“Hmm, what about when we saw Kirishima try to eat one of the icicles and Shoto had to unfreeze his tongue?”

Katsuki snorts but still shakes his head no.

You list off a few more events; Shoto's sneeze hailstorm, your snowmen army, and even your little moment of chaos in the playground tube, but he remains silent, his smirk growing wider with each wrong guess.

“Alright, I give up!” you huff, throwing your hands up in exaggerated defeat.

“What was it?”

Instead of answering, Katsuki reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small bottle of medicine.

Your eyes go wide, and before he can say a word, you duck back into the blanket fortress. 

“Nope! Not happening!”

“Oi!” Katsuki growls, his patience snapping. “Don’t start with this shit again!”

You hear the sound of the bottle hitting the coffee table and feel the cushions shift as he climbs onto the couch. A moment later, he’s straddling you, careful not to crush you under his weight as he traps you in place.

“Come out, or I swear—”

“No!” you yell, voice muffled by the blankets.

His rough hands reach down and start poking at your sides, tickling just enough to make you squirm. “You think you can hide from me, huh? You think I won’t win?” You squeal and try to wriggle away, but his hands follow you no matter where you twist or turn.

“And what’s this?” he says, his voice suddenly shifting into a dramatic, Shakespearean tone that makes you freeze. “Dost thou defy thy loyal knight? Thy loving husband who vows to protect thee from thine own stubbornness?”

You huff, peeking out just enough to glare at him. “You have some fucking nerve. Out here taking this too personally.” Katsuki glares back, though his tone stays playful. 

“Damn right I am! Over my dead body am I not taking care of you, ya brat.” You pout, your lip jutting out slightly as you squint at him. Katsuki falters, his tough expression slipping just a bit as he fights the urge to grin.

“Don’t think yer off the hook,” he says, his voice gruff again. But his hand brushes lightly against your cheek, his thumb warm as it grazes your skin. “Now take the damn medicine, and I’ll let you sleep.”

“Promise?” you ask, your voice small but teasing.

He smirks, leaning down so his forehead almost touches yours. “Promise. But you pull this shit again, and I’m ticklin’ ya until you cry.”

With a reluctant sigh, you finally emerge from the blankets, and he holds up the medicine like a prize. You glare at him one last time before taking it, and he watches you with smug satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Can you both not do that while I’m here?"

The monotone voice cuts through the cozy quiet of the room like a snowball hitting glass. You barely have time to blink before a heavy weight drops onto both you and Katsuki.

“Ugh!” Katsuki grunts, momentarily thrown off balance. He shifts to regain his footing on the couch, one hand bracing against the armrest while the other clamps around your waist to keep you steady.

You, however, are already reaching for the familiar intruder. “Shoto!” you gasp softly, pulling him closer and feeling the coolness of his skin beneath the blanket he dragged with him. “I thought you were sleeping on the chaise?”

Shoto huffs, his expression as stoic as ever, but there’s a slight pout in the way his brows knit together. It’s the look he always gets when he feels left out, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I was,” he replies flatly. “Until the two of you started… whatever this is.” His mismatched eyes glance pointedly at how close you and Katsuki are before settling back on you with a raised brow.

You sigh, brushing your hand across his forehead to check his temperature. His skin feels a little warmer than it should, and you frown. “Sho, you should be resting,” you say softly, your tone shifting to that familiar, soothing one you always use with him.

Katsuki, however, is not so gentle. “The hell is your problem?” he snaps, glaring at Shoto while trying to shove him off. “This is my damn house, and she’s my wife! Go cling to someone else, Half-and-Half!”

Shoto doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and deadpans, “She’s also my twin sister. I have just as much a right to her attention as you do. More, actually. I’ve known her longer.”

Katsuki sputters, his eyes widening in outrage. 

“You—! That’s not how this works, you icy little—”

“Enough,” you interrupt, shooting Katsuki a warning look before turning your attention back to Shoto. “Sho, you need to take your medicine.” Shoto grimaces, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I don’t desire to.”

“Shoto,” you say firmly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t take it.”

He doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

You sigh, your patience wearing thin. “Fine,” you say, glancing over at Katsuki with a small, mischievous smirk. 

“I’ll just let Katsuki give you the medicine.”

Both men freeze.

Shoto turns his head slowly, his expression shifting from stubborn to wary as he locks eyes with Katsuki. The blond’s crimson gaze gleams with dangerous amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“You wouldn’t,” Shoto says, his voice low but edged with uncertainty.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply sweetly, sitting back to watch the scene unfold.

For a moment, it’s a silent standoff. Shoto narrows his eyes, and Katsuki cracks his knuckles. Then, before either of you can react, Shoto grabs the bottle of medicine, pops the lid off, and tips it back in one smooth motion.

“Shotooo!” you yell, lunging forward as the bottle tips higher, a waterfall of liquid medicine pouring straight into his mouth. He pulls it away with a slight wince, the bitter taste evident in the way his nose scrunches. 

“There,” he says flatly, handing you the now half-empty bottle. “Happy?”

Katsuki stares at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

You groan, placing the bottle on the table before grabbing Shoto’s face in both hands. “You’re supposed to take a measured dose, not half the bottle! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t want him to give it to me,” Shoto replies simply, casting a side-eye at Katsuki, who looks like he’s about to explode.

“You icy bastard—”

“Katsuki!” you snap, cutting him off before he can launch into another tirade. You shake your head, exasperated, and turn back to Shoto. “Next time, just let me handle it, okay?”

Shoto gives a small nod, looking mildly chastised but not entirely regretful. You sigh and wrap the blanket tighter around him, muttering something about stubborn men under your breath. Katsuki grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches you fuss over Shoto. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Yea, but you love us,~” you tease, leaning back against him with a tired smile.

He huffs but doesn’t argue, pulling you closer while keeping one eye on Shoto.

You guide Katsuki to lay back against the center of the couch, his frame sinking into the plush cushions as his warmth radiates outward. He settles in with a low grumble, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile when you move to your usual spot, draping yourself across his chest. Your head comes to rest just over his heart, the steady, strong beat beneath you both grounding and soothing.

Shoto, ever observant and quietly calculating, watches the scene unfold from his perch at the edge of the couch. His mismatched eyes flick to the other side of Katsuki's chest, and after a moment of contemplation, he decides it’s the most practical place for him to claim. Without a word, he shifts closer and wraps an arm securely around your waist, resting his head against the opposite side of Katsuki's broad frame. 

Katsuki tenses for a second, glancing down at the both of you with a furrowed brow. “What the hell is this?” he mutters, his voice gruff but lacking any real bite.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice soft and teasing as you pat his chest. “Just let it happen.”

He grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘wonder twins’ but ultimately relents, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your back as he lets out a resigned sigh.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet, the only sounds are the faint hum of the television and the occasional rustle of snow outside. You begin to trace absentminded patterns along Katsuki’s arm, your fingers trailing over the defined muscles and the faded scars scattered across his skin. He doesn’t pull away, allowing you this small indulgence as his breathing evens out.

You lift his hand to your lips, brushing a series of soft kisses along each fingertip. His calloused skin feels rough against your mouth, a stark contrast to the gentleness of your actions. Katsuki watches you through hooded eyes, his expression unreadable but his heart thudding a little harder beneath your cheek.

When you glance up at him, he snorts softly. “Yer weird,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to the words.

“And yet, you married me,” you shoot back with a grin, placing one final kiss on his thumb before he captures your hand in his. He intertwines your fingers with his own, his grip firm but tender, and brings your joined hands to his lips. His mouth brushes over your knuckles, lingering there for just a moment before he lowers them back down to rest on his chest.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep without me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in your ear. The timbre of it sends a shiver down your spine, and you glance up to find him staring at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply softly, your smile warm as you press closer against him.

Shoto shifts beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he adjusts his position. He lets out a small, contented sigh, and you feel the tension in your body melt away as you relax fully into Katsuki’s frame. You toy with his hand a little longer, tracing the lines of his palm and pressing playful kisses along his knuckles while his free hand idly strokes your back. Eventually, his voice cuts through the quiet once more, softer this time.

“Yer somethin’ else, ya know that?”

“Mm,” you hum, already drifting on the edge of sleep. “And you love me for it.”

“Yes,” he admits quietly, his lips brushing against your hair as he adds, “Damn right I do.”

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says enough. With you snugly sandwiched between them, the three of you find a peace that feels as natural as breathing. Katsuki's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek, the weight of his hand resting comfortably against your back. He’s close to drifting off, but the small tug at his shirt is enough to make him stir.

He opens one eye, crimson and groggy, to glance down at you.

“What now?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. You tilt your head up, resting your chin on his chest as you look at him with a curious smile. 

“You never told me what your favorite part of the day was.”

His brow furrows slightly, and he gives you a long, unreadable look. “Hah?”

“You know,” you continue, your voice soft as you idly trace circles on his chest. “We did a lot today. What was your favorite part?”

He closes his eye again and exhales deeply through his nose, as if debating whether or not to entertain your question. His hand tightens slightly on your back, a subtle gesture of affection even as he pretends to be annoyed.

“I’m serious,” you insist, nudging him lightly. “Come on, tell me!”

Katsuki cuts you off with a low, tired groan.

“You don’t shut up, do ya?”

“No, she doesn’t—Ow!”

You retracted your foot from a certain brother's shin and pout, tugging at his tank top again. 

“Kat-su-ki.”

His eye cracks open once more, and he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. Finally, he huffs out a breath and mutters, “Ya really wanna know?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes bright with anticipation as Katsuki looks you over.

You are his best friend, his partner, his whole damn world. 

The one person who could understand him in ways no one else ever could. The one who had seen him at his worst—furious, frustrated, broken—and stood by him anyway, never flinching, never turning away. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you, no mountain he wouldn’t climb, no fight he wouldn’t take on if it meant keeping you safe and happy.

Katsuki had never thought of himself as the type to spoil anyone, but with you? 

He couldn’t hold back. Whether it was remembering the exact brand of tea you liked, surprising you with that book you’d mentioned in passing, or drawing you a bath after a long day because he knew you loved the way it melted your stress away, he was always thinking of you. 

And though he didn’t always say it with words, every little gesture, every thought, was his way of showing just how much he cherished you.

He loved the way your face lit up when he cooked your favorite meals, the way you leaned into his touch when he pulled you into his arms after a long day. He’d bite back his gruff words when you were upset, softening for you in ways he never would for anyone else. If you needed him, he was there—no questions, no hesitation. 

He’d drop everything, no matter the time or place, just to see you smile again.

You are irreplaceable. No one could ever take your place in his heart. You are the one who makes him laugh until his sides hurt, who teases him just enough to keep him grounded, who has become the home he never knew he wanted. You aren’t just his wife; you were his best friend, his partner in crime, the only one who could tame his fiery temper with a look and melt his defenses with a smile.

Katsuki isn’t perfect, and he wouldn’t be the first to admit it, but for you, he tried. He tried to be softer, to show you just how much he adored you in every way he could. Because at the end of the day, you weren’t just the love of his life—

You are his everything.

“Suki?”

He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting the arm draped over your back before he finally answers. 

“Favorite part was you bein’ a pain in my ass.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?!”

He smirks now, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he looks at you with a lazy, smug expression. Hand trailing dangerously over that one spot on your back that he knew you loved. 

“You heard me. You runnin’ around, causin’ chaos, laughin’ like an idiot… All of it. You’re a pain, but you’re my pain.”

Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face against his chest to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him. Kat snorts, clearly satisfied with himself as his hand slides up to rest against the back of your head. 

“Yeah, but yer stuck with me.”

“And I love it,” you shoot back, your voice playful despite your embarrassment.

“Damn right you do,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to the center of your lips.

In the quiet that follows, you glance over to see Shoto watching the two of you with an unimpressed expression. 

“Could you save the mushy stuff for when I’m not here?”

Katsuki doesn’t even bother looking at him, choosing instead to pull you closer against his chest. “Shut it, Icy Hot. You’re lucky I didn’t kick your ass off this couch.”

Shoto sighs dramatically, but he doesn’t move from his spot curled against your side. You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you let yourself relax fully into their embrace. 

This, right here, was your favorite part of the day.

“I forgot my tea mug at the park.”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

@willnetries, I HEARD SOMEONE CALL FOR DESSERT!!

This was my first time trying to write the whole of class 1a into a fic and I need to lay down.

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had his baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[revelboo]

Yesss! Thank you so much for the Insecticons! You even did Shrapnel’s voice (I’ve been disappointed before lol 😔). Can’t wait to see the human get their four-way gangbang coronation-

Meanwhile reader really doesn’t want the coronation or to be dinner.

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 2

Insecticons x Reader

Warnings: 18+ storyline 🌶️ Dubcon, eventual sparked reader

• Running headlong, branches claw at your hair and arms, scrape painfully across your face. More than once, you bang into trees, eyes struggling to adjust to the dark, but unable to stop running even for a second. Not when you can hear those things crashing after you, your own gasping breaths too loud in your ears. A screech and you change directions, shoulder slamming into a tree as another one comes out of nowhere. You have only an impression of size and that fiery red glow of optics as you scream and keep moving, feeling claws snag the back of your shirt, your feet momentarily leaving the ground before the material rips and you’re stumbling, clawing upright and running again, mindless with terror.

• Almost. Hearing Bombshell’s chittering laughter as you manage to escape his grasp, Kickback grins. Because you’re making them work to capture you, refusing to just submit to them. He’d known when he’d caught your scent that you were what he’d hoped for. Singing out to make Shrapnel hiss, Kickback watches you change directions at the sound. In the trees, you’re small enough to have the advantage, but he’s been here before and knows you’re about to run out of cover. And then you’re his. Theirs. A sweet little treat to claim.

• Lunging for you, Shrapnel’s shoulder bumps into Bombshell’s. The high from the hunt spinning him tight as he tries to be the one to capture you. Knows Kickback’s enamored with the idea of a soft little queen for their small hive, but he’s not entirely sold on that. A toy, though? Or a snack? Hissing as you break from the trees into the clearing, moonlight silvering you, and for a moment, he understands Kickback’s fascination with humans. You look like you’re made of moonlight, unreal almost. Sees the moment you spot the old cabin and head straight for it. But there’s a scent lingering in the area that hasn’t been there before, one that jangles through him dangerously. “Catch the human now, now,” he urges his brothers.

• Eyes burning with tears, you run for the cabin up ahead. Maybe there’s someone who can help you? Maybe you can hide from whatever’s chasing you inside? There’s a bigger shape beside the cabin, a big shadowy lump that you think might be an RV. “Help! Somebody help!” You scream and then that big shape moves. Two glowing eyes opening as something massive stands up, limned in moonlight. Skidding and falling on your hip, your pursuers catch up. Demonic shapes crouched around and over you as that bigger shape takes a lumbering step your way and roars.

• “Grimlock,” Bombshell snarls as he crouches, swapping to his alt mode as his brothers follow suit. Aware of the little human laying in the grass and that he’s not losing you to a dinobot after working so hard to claim you. Hissing, he attacks. Grimlock is bigger and stronger, but slow. Massive jaws closing on air again and again until Kickback screams out in pain. Shrapnel unleashing his pent up electricity in retaliation. Knowing they can’t win against the dinobot, only hope to discourage him from pursuing. Turning to flee, he hisses when Kickback lurches after the human who’s back on their feet and running back into the woods.

• Something snares your leg and you scream as you go sprawling in the leaves and dirt. Feel something grab you by the back of your shirt and then you’re being dragged off into the woods, the thing that has you hissing softly. Struggling to get free, you see the cave and grab at trees to try and stop yourself from being pulled inside, knowing that if you’re dragged in there, you’re not coming back out. Too terrified to scream, barely able to breathe as you’re pulled inside despite your struggling. See the other two monsters lingering at the opening watching. The moonlight filtering through the trees painting an unpleasant picture. Giant bugs with glowing optics. Monsters. “Best hope he doesn’t get hungry, hungry,” one hisses as the one with a grip on you drags you deeper into the darkness.

• Lingering at the entrance to the cave they’d dug out to have a place to escape the Decepticons if need be, Shrapnel watches Kickback drag you into the corner where he’d been collecting soft things to sleep on. Injured as he is, it’s entirely possible Kickback might eat you while he and Bombshell are stealing energon to help him self repair. But then if he does, they can always find a new toy. Even if you were a good hunt. Only getting captured because Grimlock had startled you. And he’d wanted to see how long you could go before you collapsed and submitted to them. A pity.

Previous

Next

I’ve bought from both of these sellers on EBay. CollectIconInc ships fast from the U.S. Yaked50 ships from China and takes… a lot longer than anticipated to ship, but I’ve bought harder to find Blokees from them without an issue. I ordered the new wave 6’s that aren’t released where I live yet from them.

[inkspiredwriting]

Countless cups of coffee

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stared at the half-empty cup of coffee on the kitchen table. The steam curled into the air, mingling with the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was a quiet moment, one that he had come to cherish in his otherwise tumultuous life. The coffee was strong, just the way he liked it, but it wasn’t the caffeine that he looked forward to. It was the company.

Across from him sat Y/n, her hands wrapped around her own mug. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair tousled from the night before. Five found solace in these simple moments, the world reduced to just the two of them and the warmth of their morning brew.

“I think this is the best part of my day,” Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was like a soft hum, comforting and familiar.

Five smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Mine too,” he replied.

Their lives were often chaotic—filled with timelines, apocalypses, and the never-ending struggles of time travel. But here, in the soft glow of the morning, it was just them. The rest of the world could wait.

Their relationship had always been complicated, fraught with the trials of Five’s time-hopping existence and the burdens they both carried. Yet, somehow, they always found their way back to each other. Coffee had become their ritual, a way to ground themselves amid the madness.

Y/n reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Five’s. “Do you ever wish things were different?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

Five considered her question, his gaze lingering on the way their hands touched. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think about how lucky I am to have you, even in this crazy life.”

Y/n’s smile was soft, her eyes filled with understanding. “I feel the same way. These moments... they make everything worth it.”

The peace of their morning was suddenly shattered by a loud crash from the other room. Five sighed, knowing exactly who it was. The Hargreeves household was never short of chaos, and his siblings had a knack for disrupting even the calmest of moments.

“Klaus!” Five called out, irritation creeping into his voice. “What did you break this time?”

Klaus appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Just a vase. I was... uh, redecorating.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “You and your redecorating.”

Klaus grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, if you guys didn’t want chaos, you wouldn’t live here.”

Five rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Despite the constant disruptions, he wouldn’t trade his family for anything. And he knew Y/n felt the same way. She had become part of their crazy world, fitting in seamlessly with the dysfunction.

As the day went on, Five found himself caught up in the usual whirl of events—family squabbles, and the occasional existential crisis. Y/n was right there with him, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

By evening, they were both exhausted, sinking onto the couch together. Five’s mind was still buzzing with the day’s events, but Y/n’s hand on his arm brought him back to the present.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Five sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Can’t help it. There’s always something to worry about.”

Y/n shifted closer, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. “Then let’s not think for a while,” she suggested. “Just be here, with me.”

Five looked at her, taking in the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her expression. He nodded, his heart feeling lighter. “I can do that.”

They spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the familiarity of home, that Five realized how much he cherished what they had.

As they sat together, the memories of their journey played through Five’s mind. Their first encounter, the struggles they had faced, and the way they always found their way back to each other. It was like their relationship was written in the stars, no matter how many times the timelines tried to tear them apart.

“Hey, Five?” Y/n’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something,” she said, her gaze steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to this. To us.”

Five nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “I promise,” he said, his voice firm. “No matter what.”

The next morning, Five woke to the smell of coffee brewing. He smiled, stretching as he got out of bed. Y/n was already in the kitchen, her back to him as she poured their cups.

“Morning,” he greeted her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Y/n leaned into his embrace, her smile evident in her voice. “Morning. Ready for another day of chaos?”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as I have my coffee and you, I can handle anything.”

Y/n turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling. “Then we’re set.”

They took their coffee to the table, savoring the warmth and the quiet. It was another day, another chance to face the world together. And in that moment, with the scent of coffee in the air and the person he loved by his side, Five knew that together, they could face anything.

Years later, Five and Y/n still held onto their morning ritual. Life continued to throw challenges their way, but their love remained a constant, unbreakable bond. Over countless cups of coffee, they built a life together, finding strength in each other’s presence.

And as they sipped their coffee, sharing dreams and fears, they knew that no matter where time took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love, like their morning ritual, was a testament to their enduring bond, a promise kept through every twist and turn of their extraordinary lives.

[jo-speaks]

ice skating

in which…

quinn and fem! reader indulge in one of quinn's favourite activities!

ninth date in the 'alphabet dates' series!

You could feel the cool temperature of the arena course through your body quickly, the hairs on your arms and legs standing up even through your warm clothing. Quinn felt you tense up against his arm, concern displayed on his face. 

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just cold.” You replied, squeezing his bicep in reassurance. He smiled and nodded, pulling you with him as he stepped onto the ice. 

Tonight was Quinn’s pick for date night, so it didn’t surprise you when he put your barely used skates in the trunk along with his duffel bag with all his gear in it. 

At first, you managed to keep your balance on the thin blade of your skates. But the second he sped up, your upper body dragging your legs along with you as you leaned over to keep up with him. 

Quinn laughed at your awkward stance, stopping his movement, causing you to crash into his chest. “Quinn!” You groaned, his sweet laughter drowning your senses. 

You peeked up, seeing his teeth on display as you felt the rise and fall of his chest against your cold cheeks. His eyes were closed due to the width of his smile, so he didn’t see the way your eyes lit up as you admired the pure joy on his face caused by such a minuscule moment such as this one.

His laughter died down after a few moments, drawing in a few short gasps before returning to his usual state of being. “How about you take the lead on this one?” He suggested.

You let out a snort, “Yeah right. I nearly just fell and you want me to keep you straight?”

“No need to. I know how to skate.” He teased, poking his finger into your side. 

Rolling your eyes, you wobbled forward, refinding your balance before pushing your skate into the ice, gripping tightly onto your boyfriend as you skated around the curve of the rink. It wasn’t the fastest movement, but you managed to do it with little help from Quinn.

Before you knew it, you had successfully taken a lap around the rink. Getting a little too eager about the accomplishment, you let go of Quinn’s arm to give yourself a round of applause, momentarily forgetting you weren’t in your normal, flat shoes. 

So, due to physics, gravity, and all that, you stumbled backward, rotating your arms in circles to try and keep yourself straight. Unfortunately for you, science won the battle. You fell onto your bottom, your hands thankfully reacting quickly enough to prevent the rest of your upper body from hitting the ice. 

As you groaned dramatically in pain, the sound of laughter filled the rink. Quinn was hunched over, hands resting on his sweatpant-covered knees, face quickly turning red due to the lack of oxygen he was receiving. You had never seen him laugh this hard, his small gasps turning into wheezes. Since he was laughing this hard, the rest of his body couldn’t keep up. 

He suffered the same fate you did, falling a bit softer than you since he was pretty close to the ground. 

Almost like a mimic, you laughed along with him, his body convulsing on the ice as he continued laughing, at both you and himself. 

“That was karma!” You wheezed, shifting to your side before laying on your stomach to try and calm yourself.

However, the previous events left the two of you weak on the ground, laughing for what seemed like an eternity. 

Quinn eventually came to, awkwardly scooting over to your side to hold you against his chest as he tried to calm you down. 

“I’ll never get tired of your laugh, Y/N.” 

[alottiegoingon]

talking to the trees

lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: the one where lottie's visions are getting worse.

warnings: wilderness based, implied mental illness, established relationship but doesn't really matter, angsty ending?, not proofread

lottie’s visions were worsening, and you were unsure how to help her. not only were they more frequent, but she also started acting unaware of everything around her.

sometimes she'd go silent, not uttering a single word for days and even weeks. you had to bring her food daily or else she'd stare at the trees and forget about taking care of herself.

being extremely careful, you place your hand on her shoulder, rubbing digitals on her skin through her clothes in a caress. "lottie, you need to eat. look, mari made us soup," you murmured, holding a steaming bowl.

the only way to make lottie to eat lately was to tell her that mari was the one who made the food. mari was responsible for dinner every night and lottie wouldn't eat anybody else's food. it was getting quite hard to convince her every day.

especially considering the fact that mari had died a while ago and lottie, lost in her own little world, were too absent to notice. well, she knew—she just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

"soup?" lottie's faint voice echoed yours, finally realizing that you were there. rarely did anything distract her from the strange symbols in the trees.

you watched as her eyes, dull and unfocused, flickered slightly at the mention of mari. it was a small victory, one you held on to desperately. lottie took the bowl with trembling hands, sipping the soup with a faraway look. you sat beside her, the cold ground pressing through your thin clothes, trying to offer her warmth with your presence.

it was freezing outside but, somehow, it was the only place she felt safe and you didn't want to make anything worse than already was.

"hey, lot, do you remember the night we all sat around the campfire on the first day? when laura lee said that we crashed because she called her piano teacher a cunt?" you asked softly, hoping to draw her out, even if just for a moment.

it was a funny memory overall. everyone was terrified but yet, that one time brought a momentarily relief to everyone.

lottie paused, her eyes briefly flickering with recognition before the fog settled back in. she nodded faintly, lips threatening to curl up, but her gaze remained distant. it was as if she was here, yet not here at all. you sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

𖠋

days turned into weeks, and lottie's situation only worsened. the forest around you seemed to close in, the shadows growing longer and darker and winter was only getting started. you knew you had to do something, but every day felt like a losing battle.

one particularly cold night, you wrapped lottie in your arms, trying to keep her warm. everyone else was sleeping around the weak fire, but she was shivering even under all the clothes. sitting by her side, you were determined to make her sleep at least a few hours.

"aren't you sleepy?" you whispered, holding her tighter. if it wasn't for the fire, your only source of light, you'd barely be able to see her.

completely focused on the light and intrigued by the crackling noises, lottie finally said something, her voice a broken whisper, "do you think they're watching us?"

"who?" appreciating the fact that you were finally hearing her voice after days, you didn't mind her ignoring your question. definitely wasn't sleepy but very much tired.

"they don't want us to leave," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "i can feel them… always watching, waiting."

you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice tender. "lottie, no one's watching us. it's just you, me and the girls. we're safe here. i promise."

but she shook her head, a haunted look in her eyes. "no, you don't understand. they're always watching. they won't let me go."

you didn't know who she was referring to, but nodded either way, hoping to calm her fears. how could you ever push her away or call her crazy in this cirscunstance?

"we'll be okay, lottie. i won't let anything happen to you." she fell silent again, staring into the fire, back to get lost in her thoughts.

"hey, don't worry," you give her shoulder a gentle bump to hopefully catch her attention, "if they ever try to get you, i'll throw a ball in their face like nat did to shauna that one time."

lottie let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. it was a sound you had missed, a tiny beacon of hope. "that was funny," she whispered, her voice still distant but a bit lighter.

𖠋

it took lottie several extra hours to fall asleep, while you managed only two or three hours at best, always alert and prepared to comfort her if necessary. you knew the other girls were there, but she didn’t trust them enough. neither did you, honestly. they were always gentle with her, of course, but you preferred to take care of her yourself.

still groggy, you jumped up from the makeshift bed on the ground, finding lottie in the lake. everything below her knees was submerged in the icy water, and the sight made you panic. rushing toward her, you stopped at the edge before the water could touch your skin.

“lottie, it’s too cold to swim now,” you exclaimed, your words punctuated by the splashing of your feet in the shallow water. “can you come back, please?”

for a moment, she didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the tranquil surface of the lake. then, slowly, she turned to face you, her expression distant yet strangely calm.

"it's okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "the water feels nice."

your heart clenched at her words but you knew you had to be there for her when she needed you most. taking a deep breath, you waded into the water towards her, your hand outstretched in a silent invitation. "come on, let's go back inside," you said gently, your voice was a soothing presence in the stillness of the very silent morning. "we can change clothes and have breakfast together."

“inside?” she stopped following your steps, the frigid water stinging your skin. looking back, you saw her confusion.

"it's warmer in there. you are freezing here, baby, and your clothes are all wet," you explain, holding her hand.

"fire," she frowns, "remember?"

right. the cabin had been burned to the ground months ago. how did you forget that?

"it's alright. we can find some other place."

"but the girls?" she asked immediately, searching around. you noticed her muscles tensing.

"they're in there already," you promised, being cautious when placing a kiss on lottie's cheek. "come on."

"is mari cooking breakfast there?" still wary, lottie rooted herself to the ground, grasping your hand before you could continue walking.

"she is, sweetheart."

“mom and dad too?” for the first time in weeks, lottie was mentioning her parents again. god, you hated them. what kind of people would abandon their own daughter in a different country like that? yes, they paid for it but yet—

“i’ll give them another call.”

𖠋

a soft knock on the door broke stirred you from your thoughts. there stark, white walls of the psychiatric ward came back into focus. lottie still slept soundly, her head nestled on your shoulder. finally, a full night’s rest.

you look at the door as lottie's usual nurse stepped in, giving you a sympathetic smile. "how is she today?"

you glanced down at lottie, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “improving,” you replied softly. “she’s slept through the night.”

the middle-aged woman nodded, looking pleased. "that's good to hear. keep talking to her. it seems to help."

“i will,” you assured her. you never missed a day without visiting lottie, even booking the nearest hotel just to be close. spending days and nights with her was routine now, something her parents’ money afforded her. “any word from them?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

“not yet,” she exhales, glancing momentarily at lottie still asleep while clinging to your arm. “but i’m sure they’ll visit her soon,” she tries to cheer you up.

"and let's try to keep her out of the water fountain again," she adds with a gentle laugh, mentioning yesterday’s situation. "we don't want her to catch a cold now."

it could be freezing cold in switzerland’s winter.

[mawlaeina]

отчаянный | Desperate

(adj.) having a great need or desire for something.

🍊 content: Obsessed! Childe x fem! reader, implied red string of fate (sort of)

✦ content w: religious themes (if you squint), praise and worship (if you squint?), implied violence and murder by Childe, general angst

Childe had to fight.

Ajax was not older than 14 years old when he suddenly fell into the abyss on a regular snowy day in Snezhnaya. He closed his eyes for one moment, and the next thing he knew he was falling down towards dark colored waters of what looked like a dimly lit cave.

In seconds, Ajax felt himself crashing down harshly against the surface of the water before he began to slowly sink. He shivered, the water constantly staying icy and cold even when he was below the surface, and there was also an uncanny atmosphere that he felt as he continued to sink.

In a panic, Ajax swam up—the feeling of such a heavy weight on his entire body almost choked him off of oxygen as he managed to break to the surface of the water.

He gasps for air as he steadies himself before be swims to some nearby land. He clings to the sandy ground once he was out of the water, choking and gasping as the density grew greater on his body—as if it was going to crush his lungs and ribs at any given moment.

But he manages to grow accustomed to it a bit as he composes himself once more. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he asks himself what was happening.

He looked around for a moment and realized that the entire place was packed with wolves with shadow-like features that were focused on him upon his arrival.

The creatures were simply staring at Ajax with some kind of dark madness and hunger—albeit slow, some were already approaching him on the little island that he was on.

He had nothing to use to defend himself with—no armor, no shield, no weapons. When one of the wolves finally dashed forward with a jaw slightly hanging and ready to bite, all Ajax could think of was to run.

And he did run away—his legs moving light and fast as he tried to avoid all the other wolves that were coming in front of him. He was running even though his legs were tired, even when his lungs started to feel like they were bursting again.

For a moment, he was happy as he managed to lose sight of the wolves.

That was until he tripped.

He tripped over his own feet and began to roll down painfully against the rough and rigid ground. Once he finally landed at the bottom, his body had taken multiple fractures on the torso, and bleeding wounds on his face and arms.

Ajax groaned in pain, reaching and placing his hands on his hair before weakly clenching his hand on it. Ajax could hear the wolves coming as they howl with distorted voices from the direction he was just running away from.

He began to panic again, his breathing frantic and scattered all over the place. He closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness began to settle in his vision. For a moment he saw glimpses of mental images of his family—his mother, father, older and younger siblings.

Was this it? Was this his demise? He felt like crying, he didn’t want to die, not now, not when he was this young.

Why? Why? Why?

He questions desperately to the gods and celestia.

Fight.

His eyes opened, widening in shock as he wore a stunned expression on his face. He heard someone—the voice clear as day, with words spoken firmly as the frozen ice of Snezhnayan fjords, yet it was somehow spoken with the same desperation that he felt.

Fight, please. I’m begging you.

The voice’s tone broke momentarily, and Ajax could somehow picture someone in front of him as he lay on the ground—the person pleading, their warm and ticklish tears fell from their eyes and onto Ajax’s cheeks. Though their face was blurry and could be vaguely seen, he sensed some familiarity coming from them—even though he remembers no one with such a voice.

I don’t want you to die.

In an instant, Ajax rolls to the side as he avoids a claw strike from a wolf that had already came up to him. His back bumps into a nearby stone wall, but he manages to take a sharp rock before standing up with haste.

His hands are tensed, clenching the sharp stone and wielding it like a kitchen knife. Despite the state of his body, he felt the urge, the need to move and survive against the monster.

Ajax dashes forward as the shadow-like wolf lunges towards him. Before the ruined animal could bite his head off, he slides under the wolf and stabs its hide before slicing through its underbelly using the stone. Once the wolf’s body passes over him, it collapses onto the ground with a pool of blood quickly forming under its lower half.

For a moment, there was some sort of adrenaline that came over Ajax—one that made him feel stronger, more confident to survive, and his fresh kill ignited a newly sense of pride of winning.

He liked how it felt for some reason.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off rather quickly. He coughed out some blood as he drops the sharp bloody stone to the ground, just before he fell to his knees—eventually, his body collapses onto the ground just like the wolf before passing out.

—

Childe had to survive.

When Ajax woke up, he found himself laying on the ground—his body covered in bandages. He groaned as the pain began to strike all over his body. He looked around for a moment and saw numerous wolves laying dead and bloodied everywhere.

He doesn’t remember doing any of this, and it somehow bothered him.

The next thing he knew, he was took in by a stranger who introduced herself as Skirk. He was taught multiple skills on how to survive in this place, which was called the Abyss. Skirk teaches Ajax how to survive and pass through the regions of the Abyss unharmed, and how to wield his hydro vision in the abyss—even though he wasn’t aware that he received a vision at all in the first place.

After a month of rigorous and intense training, Skirk teaches Ajax to wield Foul Legacy. For the first few tries, transforming and using Foul Legacy for even just a few seconds put such a heavy strain on his body, and he eventually ended up in critical condition every time.

When he passes out, he dreamt or had short visions. He saw someone making tea on a kitchen counter, their faces were blurry and could be vaguely seen but he could feel some sort of warmth emanating from them. Ajax somehow knew it was the same person who talked some sense into him on the first day that he fell into the Abyss.

He holds his hand out, reaching it gently towards the person.

He wakes up, his breathing heavy as he sweats profusely. Skirk was confused as to why Ajax woke up in such a way, yet she dismisses it as an insignificant nightmare that the young child probably had.

However, in Ajax’s case, he wanted more of that warmth that he felt just now. How long has it been since he’d touch something warm after falling into the cold Abyss? He doesn’t recall, he doesn’t remember—so, naturally, as a young adolescent, he wanted more of it, he craved it.

From then on, Ajax began to train harder, harsher—pushing his body to his limits everyday. He got stronger, and that’s what he told himself what his training was for—to get stronger, to be stronger.

To conquer the world.

A merely shallow form of self-manipulation to deny a more selfish reason he had in mind.

In truth, he wanted to see and feel more of that person, and he did—so long as he passed out. He passes out more frequently now as he continuously extends his limits—pushing himself until his body was in pain from just moving a hand.

Everytime he would pass out, he would constantly try to reach for them when they weren’t looking, he would try to see their face clearer, hear their voice clearer as they talked to him for even just a second. Eventually, he realizes they were a year younger or older than him—if not, they were perhaps the same age as he was.

But as another month passed, he began to pass out less, and when he did pass out, if wouldn’t be long enough to see that person again. While it confirmed that he did get stronger, he was irritated by the absence of such a warm presence. The only light that he had in the Abyss, and now it felt like he was losing it.

Stronger, I need to get stronger.

Ajax thought to himself angrily as he began to train even without Skirk. He continued to push his limits—training in the dark and heavy waters until his lungs almost gave out, training against stronger enemies using his Foul Legacy form, training against every other weapon that he could find in the Abyss. His bloodlust began to grow by the day as he relentlessly hunted the monsters that resided in the Abyss.

Yet for some reason, he no longer saw that person when he passed out. Did he recover too quickly? Were they going to leave him behind now? They wouldn’t right? Right?

He could feel himself losing his sanity, his thoughts full of silent pleas for that person to appear at least once every other day or so.

No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me here, come back.

COME BACK!

—

Childe needed to breathe.

When Ajax came back to Teyvat, he returned to his family cabin in Snezhnaya—to which he was welcomed back warmly and gladly with thankful sobs from his family members. Much to his surprise, he had been only missing for 3 days in Teyvat despite having trained for 3 months in the Abyss.

While Ajax missed his family so much, his thoughts were still plagued with the unknown warmth that he felt in the Abyss. Yes, he enjoyed the warm hugs and such affectionate love coming from his family, he enjoyed the warm sensation of his hands when faced to the fire of the cabin fireplace—but those, for some odd reason, could not compare to the comfort that he felt and witnessed first hand in the Abyss.

They were simply not enough.

It was a week after his return that Ajax looked up to the sky. The last shimmering gloss on his eyes reflected the clear blue skies of Snezhnaya that day, and he wondered if that was just the Abyss playing tricks on his head.

He sighed as he plopped down on the snowy ground. The Snezhnayan cold no longer affected him—not when the Abyss conditioned him with colder temperatures.

His hands twitch for a moment, just like it had been for the last week. He needed to move, to fight. He thought he could control himself, that he could return to just being his mother and father’s son.

But he couldn’t, and on that day, he ended up massacring all the ruin guards he could find in his region using his Foul Legacy form.

Ajax, stop, your body can’t handle any more stress.

His eyes widened after hearing a worried voice just as he was about to move to the next region—a small wave of warmth passes by him, the sensation was weak but familiar. He pauses for a moment, waiting for them to speak again—but there was only silence.

Where are you?

He looked around the snowy terrain, still in his Foul Legacy form. It took him a few seconds of silence before his body began to feel heavy—coughing up blood and collapsing onto the snow as he turns back into his normal self.

Where are you?

He repeats inside his head with desperation. He stood up and began to walk around, his other leg limping as he does so. His mouth was slightly agape, taking in shallow breaths of the thin air as blood trickled down his mouth.

Please, please. Answer me, where are you?

When he finally turned his head, he saw you.

Clear as day, warm as the sun.

His breath hitched as he felt your hand on his cheeks, your warmth constantly emanating and burning through his cold skin. He felt like crying right then and there, but he wondered if you were real—if this was real. He raised his hand to touch yours, and it did.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your voice full of worry—yet its so soothing to his ears. It’s that same voice that Ajax could never mistake for someone else. Ajax just stares at you for a minute, too stunned to speak as he takes in your face. “Hey, you’re badly injured, we should take you home.” You suggest.

Ajax seemed to realize something for a moment. While he knew that the person he’s seen and heard in the Abyss was you, you were acting like a stranger to him—it confused him.

“You’re injured.” Ajax pointed out abruptly as he gently takes your hand off his cheeks and spins you around lightly, which catches you off guard for a second. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his voice low and angry as he runs a finger down your back—your spine crawls at the painful sensation.

“I got hit by a ruin guard earlier and passed out by that tree earlier.” You explained rather awkwardly. “But I’m fine now, so you there’s nothing to worry about. We should get you home since you’re in an even worse condition.” You say as you turned around to face him. “Can you tell me where you live? I’ll help you get there.”

Ajax tells you where he lives, and it surprises both of you that you two were neighbors. What a coincidence, how come you never saw in each other?

It was already midnight when Ajax returned to his family cabin, with you supporting him from the side. His mother was relieved to see his son back, but her concerned grew when she saw him covered in dirt and blood. She thanked you for accompanying him during his journey home.

You told them that you were going to leave, and Ajax couldn’t help but feel devastated by the idea—so he speaks to his mother, saying how you were also injured.

Naturally, as a loving and concerned adult that she was, Ajax’s mother told you that she could at least treat your injuries before you leave, and that you could stay the night in their cabin and return home the next morning.

The look of reluctance painted on your face somehow ticked something inside Ajax’s mind. He never questioned about what happened in the Abyss—how he heard your voice when he was on the brink of death, when he was barely going to survive. He simply concluded that it just happened, that your fates were intertwined so strongly that your voice reached him even when the two of you were worlds apart.

Don’t you feel the same? Why do you want to leave?

He wanted to be angry, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry at you—not when he thinks you’ve done so much for him, not when you saved him from the brink of death in the Abyss. You were his salvation, his one and only savior in this world—not even a single person from celestia came to put him back into his senses at the time, and for that he no longer believes in them.

He believes in you.

When you finally agreed to his mother’s offer, he felt glad—an understatement to the joyful emotion that he had swirling in his chest. He lets you sleep inside his room after being treated, and when you fell asleep, he took it upon himself to watch you.

He was kneeling on the ground, arms and head resting on the side of the bed. He continues to watch you in silence for a moment before he briefly caresses your cheek.

My god.

He lifts himself up a bit, enough that he hovered over your sleeping face. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, feeling the comforting warmth that you had stinging his cold lips.

My universe.

—

Childe suffocated.

When he finally got recruited into the fatui, he was given a nickname, “Childe”.

Acknowledged by the Tsaritsa and the organization for having great strength at such a young age, he was given a chance to be promoted—to become a harbinger, but he had to sacrifice something or someone.

He was made to choose.

Blinded by the loyalty that he swore, he chose to sacrifice someone who would get in the way of the fatui ambition that he had. You.

With fates intertwined as strong as celestia, he was told by the Fatui that you would hinder his progress, his strength.

You were a distraction.

While Childe did return to be a fairly normal person ever since he had you by his side, the warmth that he felt from you slowly faded into something more common. Your warm hugs no longer felt special over time—it was as if you turned into another fireplace for him to stare at.

Snezhnaya was not as cold as the Abyss, and so he disregarded the need for something as warm as you.

So there he stood, in front of you with a knife held dangerously close to your neck. His hands trembled, and he seemingly fought every cell of his body from hesitating.

I just have to kill her.

He thought to himself, his inner voice lacking any sense of determination to do so.

You, yourself, was not surprised that he had come to kill you.

You knew this day would come, and you just hoped it wouldn’t happen to his family. While you were clearly against him joining the Fatui, you said nothing—a decision that you’ve come to regret every day.

As his hands trembled, you smiled sadly—closing your eyes as you held his hands. For a moment, his eyes widened, and everything turned silent as the sound of blood splattered on the ground.

Childe did not come home to his family that day like he said he would.

—

Childe has forgotten how to breathe.

“What do you mean you don’t know about big sister?” Teucer pouted, and Childe simply laughed confusedly at the young ginger.

“Who are you talking about, Teucer?” Childe asks his younger brother without a single shine of sunlight reflecting his eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about!”

“Big sister Tonia?” Childe raises a brow, but Teucer shakes his head with a frown—he was getting upset with his big brother now.

“The one you always brought to go ice fishing with us.” Childe doesn’t know what his younger brother was talking about.

“I don’t recall bringing anyone other than you when we go ice fishing by the lake, Teucer.” Childe spoke honestly and knelt down to Teucer’s level. “Buddy, are you sure you aren’t tired?” Childe asks worriedly.

Teucer shakes his head, still frowning.

Everything was so odd for Childe ever since he woke up this morning. Everyone in his family cabin had asked him about someone he doesn’t know about—his family claims that the two of them were close, very close, and they wondered why Childe no longer remembers them.

Who on earth were they talking about?

Childe asks himself as he holds Teucer’s hand as they walk to the frozen lake nearby. He wonders who that person was, and how he forgot about them if they were so close.

Once they arrived to the frozen lake, Childe couldn’t help but stare at the scenery for a moment. It was as if he was stunned for a moment from the aching sensation that he deeply felt in his chest.

It was the same lake that he’d visited in his entire life, yet for some reason…

Why is it so cold?

✦ this is kind of bad.. idk how to feel about this

✦ I didn’t want to write this because I hate angst + my sweet boy, but if I suffer I’m dragging everyone else with me

✦ would rather praise and worship him instead ngl

✦ there’s gonna be an extended version of this if I don’t get lazy soon so look out for that

✦ Yes, there’s ivantill reference there

[soulofapatrick]

Distractions - Jace Herondale x Female Reader

Summary: Jace comes back from a mission and well… you just can’t hold back anymore

Words: 1.6k 

Warnings: none really

Y/N’s POV

I tighten my grip on the training blade as Izzy and I circle each other in the main training room. The sound of wood meeting wood echoes off the glass walls, our movements precise and calculated. We’ve been at this for hours, Izzy trying to improve my combat skills as it’s my weakness in the field. 

Izzy’s staff whistles through the air as she makes a sudden move towards me, aiming for my head. Instinct kicks in, and I duck just in time, the staff whizzing pasting me. Without hesitation, I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding another strike, and rise to my feet in one fluid motion.  As Izzy turns to face me, I seize the opportunity to counterattack, With a swift movement, I bring the hilt of my wooden sword down on her back, the impact reverberating through my arm. Izzy grunts in surprise, but she recovers quickly, spinning around to face me with renewed determination. 

We lock eyes, both of us back in fighting stances, ready to continue our sparring match. But before we can make another move, the doors to the Institute swing open, revealing Alec and Jace. They’re both sweaty and have splatters of probably not their blood on them, their gear clinking softly as they stride into the room. 

My breath catches as I see Jace. His golden hair is tousled, a few strands clinging to his forehead with sweat. His eyes, piercing shades of blue and brown with his partial heterochromia, hold an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Despite the grime and exhaustion of battle, there’s an undeniable magnetism about him that draws me in every time. 

Before I can dwell on the way he makes me feel, my thoughts are cut short by the sudden sensation of my feeling being swept out from under me. Izzy’s staff connects with precision, sending me crashing to the ground with a thud. The impact knocks the wind out of me, leaving me momentarily stunned, a groan escaping my lips as I try to remember how to breathe. 

Izzy’s laughter rings out, a melodic sound amidst the clatter of our training. She saunters over, her grin mischievous as she extends a hand towards me, “Looks like you need a breather, Y/N,” she says teasingly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I accept her hand gratefully, allowing her to pull me back to my feet. As I dust myself off, Izzy's expression softens, a knowing look in her eyes. "You should go find Jace," she says casually, though there's a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "I think that's enough training for today.” 

A blush creeps onto my cheeks, betraying the truth behind Izzy's words. Of course, she knows about my crush on Jace. It's hard to keep anything from her, especially when we've been friends for so long. 

I manage a sheepish smile, grateful for Izzy's understanding. "Thanks, Izzy," I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. She just winks at me playfully before turning to leave the training room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. As I gather my belongings, I can't shake the feeling of embarrassment that lingers in the air. But beneath it all, there's a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of seeing Jace again.

I gather my belongings, my mind still buzzing with the remnants of embarrassment and anticipation. With a determined breath, I head out of the training room and down the familiar corridors of the Institute. Each step feels weighted with both nerves and excitement as I make my way to Jace's room. 

Finally arriving at his door, I raise a hand to knock, the sound echoing softly in the hallway. Before I can second-guess myself, I hear Jace's voice from inside, muffled but unmistakable. "Come in.”

Heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement, I push open the door and step inside Jace’s room. The familiar scent of sandalwood and leather greets me as I enter, enveloping me in a sense of comfort amidst the flutter of anticipation. As I step further into the room, my expectations are upended. Instead of finding Jace seated on his bed or leaning against the windowsill as I had imagined, he stands by his chest of drawers, his back to me as he rummages through its contents.

For a moment, I freeze in place, my breath catching in my throat as I take in the sight before me. The soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window casts a warm halo around Jace, illuminating every every line and curve of his form. His broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the muscles of his back rippling under his sweat-shiny skin. 

As if sensing me staring, Jace turns to face me, a crooked smile curving his plump lips. My eyes widen as I drink in the sight before me, hearing Jace speak but not being able to process the words he’s saying. The light plays across his defined abs, casting shadows that only serve to accentuate their contours. Each ripple of muscle seems chiseled with precision, a testament to his strength and agility as a Shadowhunter. 

But it’s not just his upper body that commands my attention. My gaze drifting lower, tracing the lines of his abs and down to the tantalising glimpse of skin revealed by his low-hanging jeans. The beginnings of a dark trail of hair disappear beneath the waistband, teasing my imagination with promises of what lies beneath. 

I feel my cheeks flush with heat as I struggle to find my voice or drag my eyes away from the mouthwatering view before me as he makes his way across the room, voice low and husky as he speaks, “Hey Y/N, need something?” 

I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away from that happy trail to his face, “Uh, I just wanted to see how you were doing after the mission, you seemed a little bloodied up.” I manage to chose out, my voice coming out a little more breathless than intended. 

Jace’s smile widens, and he takes a step closer, closing the distance between us, “I’m doing okay,” He replies, gaze never leaving mine, “But I’m glad you’re here.” 

His words send a shiver down my spine, igniting a fire within me that I can’t seem to extinguish. Before I can even process what’s happening, Jace’s fingers trail gently down my left arm from my elbow, sending electric pulses coursing through my veins. My breath hitches as he takes ahold of my hand in his larger, more calloused ones. 

Every touch sends a jolt of heat through me, leaving me feeling flustered and off balance. And when he uses his hold of my hand to pull me flush against him, I can’t help but let out a soft gasp of surprise. His right hand lands on the small of my back, his touch sending a wave of warmth flooding though me. 

Our faces are mere inches apart now, the air thick with unspoken tension. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin, sending my heart racing even faster. In this moment, there’s no room for doubt or hesitation, only the raw, unbridled desire that course through us both. 

As if sensing the urgency in the air, Jace releases my hand to cup my cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. His thumb brushes gently over my bottom lip, a silent question in his eyes as he searches mine for any signs of hesitation. I meet his gaze, my own filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation. And then, without another word, he ducks down and presses his lips to mine in a kiss that steals the air form my lungs. 

The kiss is gentle yet urgent, a silent declaration of all the emotions we’ve kept hidden for so long. I melt into him, hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles under my hands. 

Every touch, every sensation is magnified in this moment of pure connection. His lips taste of warmth and desire, a heady mix that leaves me dizzy with need. And as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, I can’t help but lose myself in the sensation of him. 

His hands roam over my body, turning the embers of a fire into a full-blown blaze that threatens to consume both of us. With each touch, each caress, the intensity between us grows until it's almost unbearable. And as our kiss grows more fervent, more desperate, I feel Jace walk me backwards until my back hits the solid wall and he's crowding me, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

I feel myself drawing him even closer to me, the space between us vanishing until there's no room for anything else but us. His hands wander under my shirt, their touch searing against my bare skin. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me, setting every nerve ending ablaze with desire. 

A soft moan slips from my lips as his touch becomes more urgent, more possessive. His hands seem to know every inch of my body, mapping out every curve and contour with a precision that leaves me breathless. And as he presses his body against mine, I can feel the heat of him seeping into my skin, melding us together until we're no longer two separate entities but one.

In this moment, there's no past, no future, only the overwhelming intensity of our shared desire. And as Jace's lips find mine once more, I surrender completely to the flames of passion that engulf us both, knowing that with him, I've found something worth fighting for.

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Tear Down My Reason [8]

Orderly!Blue Jones x NonBinary afab!reader • Rating: 18+ pals •  Masterlist • ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Things get worse.

Please look at the warnings!

Series Masterlist

A/N: Reader is afab and non-binary, and is referred to by the nickname, 'Honey'.

Warnings: Violence, a lot of it, mostly directed at the reader (not by Blue), destruction of a toy bear, swearing, injection misgendering of reader, overuse of italics, there's some power dynamics in here, gonna say dubious consent because reader is a patient, Honey as a pet name, swearing, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1882

It’s at least an hour past lights out. You’ve been in bed, bundled up under the thin covers, clutching the small bear Blue gave you to your chest the whole time. 

Sleep evades you.

You can’t stop repeating what happened earlier over and over again in your mind. The events twisting and morphing with each replay until nausea pulls at your chest. 

“Do you think that this is some kind of, of…Of fucking game.”

He didn’t come after you. 

Didn’t come to find you in the hours that passed. 

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

You ball yourself up tighter, screw your eyes shut to stop the tears that threaten to leak out of them. 

If you-

The door to your room flies open and slams into the wall with force. 

You jump, gasping as your body freezes for a second in panic before you try to move. 

The light from the hallway momentarily blinds you, your legs caught up in the blanket. 

“There you fucking are.” Russell’s voice drills through your nerves as he snarls. 

You don’t get a chance to react, his hand already around your neck and dragging you out of bed. You scream, swear, kicking out and digging your nails into his forearm hard enough to draw blood. 

He swears, throwing you to the ground and kicking you harshly in the stomach. He keeps kicking as you double up, one blow colliding with your chin and sending a wave of sickness and darkness through your mind. 

Somehow you remember to cover your head, wrapping your arms protectively over your ears and neck as his steel toe capped boots snap something in your side. 

You breathe out with a wheeze, your lungs not filling with enough air.

“Fucking hiding contraband?” He snarls and grabs your bicep. He’s strong, stronger than he looks, and pulls you up to scream in your face before he shoves you out of the room into the corridor. 

You slip on the titled floor, your socks skidding, and land awkwardly on your elbow. The scream you let out doesn’t sound like your own, too harsh and alien to come from your mouth. Lightning races up your arm, momentarily paralysing your hand. 

What the fuck was happening? 

You try to scramble to your feet as Russell pulls your room apart, tugging off the sheets and ripping the mattress from the bedframe. 

You need to run. Need to. You turn, on your hands and feet, your own blood a roar as it rushes through your veins. 

Russell grabs you from behind, clawing at your t-shirt and yanking you backwards. “Where the fuck are you going?” 

You scream, turning to strike at his hand. He smacks you hard across the face, your lip splitting against your teeth. Iron fills your mouth. 

You kick out, aiming in a rush for his crotch, but getting his leg. 

He grunts, his eyes widening. But he doesn’t let go. 

“Little bitch!” He pulls you back with a sudden surge of strength and you crash into the wall, the back of your head smacking against the plaster. Everything goes fuzzy. Shifted to the side.

Other patients are awake now, staring at the commotion from the tiny window in their doors. They’re yelling, screaming, banging on walls. For a second you lock eyes with Megan from across the hall. She looks horrified. She’s shouting something to you, pleading with you to get up and run. 

You don’t see Russell in time, but you feel the hit, another thud of a blow across your face like a hammer. 

He tries to grab you again, going for the neck of your shirt. You scratch at his hands, pushing him away with all your strength. “Get the fuck away from me!”

He goes to punch you once more, but you see this blow coming and manage to duck to the side. Russell’s hand connect with the wall and he yowls in pain. 

You go for his leg, sinking your teeth into his calf through his orderly scrubs. 

He shrieks and smacks the heel of his hand repeatedly against your head and face in a desperate effort to dislodge you. 

“Fucking bitch!”

One hit lands just right, and you gasp in pain, falling back against the wall. 

There’s no time to react as he grabs your shoulders as you struggle, pushing you down onto your stomach and pinning you with his body weight. 

You scream, swearing and yelling for help that you know won’t come. 

He’s heavy on your back, pushing all the air from your lungs. Your side cracks again, pain radiating out from where he kicked you. Spots dance in front of your vision. 

“Can’t just fucking take a room check,” he snarls and then something sharp sinks into your neck.��

You yelp as the needle pierces your skin. The fluid inside is cold as it spreads through your blood stream. 

“That’ll fucking quieten you for a bit.” His spittle hits the side of your face as he growls against your ear. 

Everything goes hazy, disconnected like you’ve been pulled a meter back from your own body. 

He gets off you as you relax, standing to his feet and then kicking you harshing in the side once more. 

The blow should hurt more than it does, you know that. The force is enough to twist you onto your side, but your body’s so heavy, delayed. You can hardly move, hardly think. There’s a dull pain, a sensation that you know is covered by this haze. 

You can barely lift your head, but you see Russell pulling up the leg of his scrubs and grimacing at the bite mark you’d left. 

He glares at you with sharp eyes, his expression sinks it’s fangs into your heart. He was going to kill you. 

There’s a beat, and he tuts before slinking back into your room. The sounds of him pulling furniture apart and open, of ripping through your few possessions, are muffled. Far away. 

You try to focus on your breathing, on shifting this blanket of haze. You can’t take a full breath. 

“What the fuck is this, hmm?” He grabs your shoulder and roughly yanks you onto your back, your head smacking against the tiles. He holds up the small blue bear in his grubby hands. 

Your eyes widen.

“Where did you get this from?” 

You try to answer, your tongue slow. 

“Fucking sneaking contraband in? Or trying to hide your meds?” 

You manage to shake your head and he sneers.

“All you fucking patients, you’re all the same.” He grabs hold of the head, the other still holding the body firmly and rips it in two. 

“No!” Your voice is weak, hardly anything as you mange to raise your right hand to try to grab for the bear fruitlessly. Tears sting your eyes. 

Russell barks out a laugh, pulling the stuffing from its body as he stomps down on your hand with his boot. 

You hear the snap. Feel it in connection to your fingers. But the pain is far away. 

When he doesn’t find anything he scoffs, throwing the bear to the ground and marching back into the room. 

Tears are hot on your cheeks as you find the strength to move, to grab the pieces of the shredded bear and pull it close with your injured hand. You try not to look at your fingers, how two are bent incorrectly and bleeding. Instead focusing on the bear, trying to feel the softness of its fur through your numb skin. 

“What the fuck?” You hear Harris’s usually calm voice before you see him. He sounds low, quiet. But filled with dread. 

You don’t have the strength to move, to see where he is. But it’s hardly a second longer before his face enters your field of vision as he crouches over you. 

He says your name slowly, carefully and you nod. 

His radio is in his hand a second later, static ringing as he presses the call button. “I need medical to room 512 immediately, Peterson and Davis get down here, get Jones.” 

Russell steps out of the room, seemingly disinterested for a moment until he sees Harris, Blue’s second in command. 

“What’s going on? I’ve got this sorted?” Russell frowns. “What the fuck did you do?” 

Russell pales. “What?” 

“What the fuck have you done?”

Russell swallows, holding up his hands. “Room check, I got told to rough them up a bit, they’ve got contraband, not that I’ve found it-”

“This is not a room check floor.”

“It’s on schedule.” He repeats, but his voice is wavering, uncertain. “412, it’s-”

“This is floor 5.”

Russell splutters. “She, she bit me!” He pulls at his trouser leg, truly panicking now. “I had to get her off, had to give her a shot, she was going crazy, like an animal! I thought she was going to kill me and-”

“You don’t know who this is, do you?” Harris says slowly. His words cold. His hands are around your shoulders, tilting your head up and resting the top of your spine against his knees. It’s easier to breath this way, even if it is only slightly. 

“I…” Russell trails off.

“How much did you give them?”

He shakes his head.

“The injection.”

“Just, just 3ccs…”

“3?” Harris swears quietly. 

Your eyes are so heavy, you try to keep them open, you really do.

“It’s not that bad, is it? Just a mix up, I-”

The doors open at the end of the corridor quickly, two med staff come rushing in, followed by Peterson and Davis. 

Harris speaks to them quickly for a second, his voice quiet and controlled until the doors swing open again. 

Everyone freezes. Blue’s footsteps are fast, heavy, as he moves. His face blank and eyes ablaze. 

He looks to Harris who nods once. 

Russell doesn’t get a chance to open his mouth to speak. But he does scream when Blue punches him in the jaw. 

He stumbles. His hand to his face. But Blue hits him again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again. 

Until his blood sprays up the plaster wall. 

And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

Until Russell is barely gurgling. 

“Get him out of here,” he says quietly to David and Peterson. They nod without saying a word.

The medical staff lift you up and place you on a bed, the minor jolt is just enough to get your eyes to open a fraction. Your bear falls from your grasp. 

“Honey,” Blue’s voice is weak, desperate as he cradles your face with his hands. 

“My bear?” You say softly, trying to sit up, to reach for where it has fallen onto the floor. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll get you a new one.”

You shake your head, your voice breaking, “No, my bear… Blue.” 

“We need to get her to the infirmary Sir,” one of the medical staff says and Blue nods. 

“Them.” He gives the nurse a harsh look. “Not her, them.”

The nurse nods quickly, swallowing as he looks away from Blue’s gaze. 

Thank you for reading!

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[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 4

Finnick x Reader

Series Masterlist Link

I’m on a roll with my writing! Was able to grind out another chapter today. Lmk what you guys think of the story so far :)

Content warnings - descriptions of death and lots of angst

My love, you have my heart for all of eternity. And if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.

You and Finnick had never been anything more than friends, although friends feels like an understatement to describe what you are to each other. After your games, you lived in Victors Village with your family, doing your best to heal.

When your family was killed after your victory tour, the victors deemed that you weren’t stable enough to live alone. You were only 17 and had nobody left to take care of you.

Finnick had volunteered to move in temporarily until you were better, but better never happened. He felt guilty about how he mentored you. He had told you that what you did in the arena didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many you killed, or how you killed, it was a game and to play it you had to be entertaining and win sponsors.

So, you entertained. You joined the career pack, hoping they would take out most of the other tributes for you so there would be fewer for you to worry about. That only worked for a week.

One week in, your district partner was killed and you were on the outs. The alliance would turn on you at any moment, so you had to strike first.

You lay awake in the arena, nearly two weeks into the games, as the pair from one were on watch. They thought you were asleep, just as you had hoped they would.

“Let’s kill her now,” Gimena stated.

“How?” Aries replied.

“I’ll wake her up and ask her to go pee with me. You’ll follow and provide back up if the fight drags on longer than necessary,” she told him.

“I doubt you’ll need me but go ahead,” Aries chuckled. “She’s all yours.”

You can still feel Gimena’s hand on your arm, shaking you awake.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I need to go pee. You’re coming with me as guard.”

You nod and follow her into the trees, preparing to use the knife hidden in your sleeve. She makes you walk in front of her, plotting how to attack you. She wasn’t fast enough.

You quickly whip around and fling your knife into her throat, killing her immediately. Because there was no scream, Aries thought the cannon was yours, so he didn’t panic.

If you were going to kill the careers, it had to be now. You removed your only knife from Gimena’s body and climbed into one of the trees. Hopefully only Aries would come looking. It’s hard to kill three people with one knife.

Aries came crashing through the forest a few minutes later, calling out for Gimena. You waited until he stumbled upon her body before flinging your knife into it the side of his head, directly below his ear. The canon wasn’t immediate, but it was quick.

You hopped down from the tree to retrieve your knife, only to be tackled to the ground by Floyd, the boy from 2.

“What the hell did you do four?” he shouted, pushing his spear down onto your throat to choke you. What worried you wasn’t the spear, but the fact that you couldn’t spot Hals, his partner.

You wiggled your fingers in an attempt to reach the knife but it was too far. Oxygen was leaving your body and you needed to think fast.

Your sudden growl caught him off guard, causing him to momentarily lose focus. The pressure on your throat let up just enough for you to turn your head to the side and spot Aries’ sword stuck under his body, barely within reach.

Hals arrived on the scene just in time to watch Floyd’s head roll away from his body. She let out a yell before charging at you, machete in hand. She managed to slice up your cheek, but found herself dead moments later. You had jumped on her and beaten her to a pulp, not caring that the machete was digging into your face.

Those four weren’t your first kills in the arena, nor were they your last. Nobody else in the cage with you stood a chance.

“Hey,” Finnick sighs as he enters your room. He’s still in his outfit from the interview. “Can we talk?”

You nod and he comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I need to ask something very important of you in the arena,” he starts and you already feel yourself getting nauseous with anxiety. “I need you to help me keep Katniss and Peeta alive.”

This request shocks you. Finnick had told you about potentially allying with 3, 7 and 12 but asking you to control yourself around a firey person like Katniss was like asking a baby not to cry near loud noises.

You shake your head at him, hoping he understands how you can’t promise him anything of that sort. In reality, you can’t even promise him that you’ll be in control of yourself enough to not hurt him.

“Y/N,” Finnick sighs. “There’s a plan to break some of us out of the arena and take us far away from the capital where we can help change Panem. But, we need Katniss and Peeta alive in order for it to work.”

“Just kill me now,” you whisper. “I can’t do any of this.”

“Yes you can!” Finnick states in frustration. “I know it’s hard but I’ll be with you the whole time. We will get through this together.”

You give him a meek “ok” to quell his nerves, but deep down you know that this wouldn’t work. You know what you have to do.

“Can you stay tonight?” you ask. This takes him off guard as you’ve never let him stay in the same room as you at night, worried you might hurt him.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks, knowing his nightmares might set you off.

“No,” you sigh. “Sorry. Forget I ever asked. Goodnight Finnick”

“Goodnight”

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[bingbongsupremacy]

Protector

Pairing: John Murphy x Plus Size Reader

Warning: Cursing, reader insecurity, bullying reader about weigh, name calling

Summary: John saved you from some bullies, and now you feel like you owe him.

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

The crash is chaos. My ears are still ringing from the impact, and the adrenaline surging through my veins makes every movement feel surreal. I stumble out of the drop ship, my knees shaking, my hands clutching onto the makeshift rail as if it’s the only thing tethering me to the ground.

When I finally make it outside, I’m overwhelmed by the blinding light and the sheer openness of it all. Earth. We’re actually on Earth. My thoughts spiral in a mix of awe and terror. The air smells different—fresh, but sharp, like it’s alive in a way the Ark never was. Around me, others are yelling, cheering, or arguing, the clamor of emotions colliding in the open field we’ve landed in.

That’s when I see him. John Murphy. He’s standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of irritation and disbelief. Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment. His gaze is sharp, piercing, like he’s sizing me up, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of everything: the way my clothes cling to me awkwardly, the extra weight I carry, and the heat flushing my face. But just as quickly as our eyes meet, he looks away, his lip curling into something that might be a smirk or a sneer—I can’t tell.

I swallow hard and move further into the clearing, trying to shake off the feeling his glance left behind.

The day blurs as we all begin to sort out our roles. Some people, like Clarke and Bellamy, take charge, organizing groups and barking orders. I find myself gravitating toward the quieter tasks: gathering supplies, making myself useful without drawing too much attention. The truth is, blending in feels safer.

But safety doesn’t last long here.

I’m crouched near the edge of the drop ship, sorting through a pile of scrap metal to find anything usable, when it happens. A group of guys—big, loud, and clearly looking for trouble—hover near me, their laughter sharp and mean. My heart sinks.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be looking for food instead?” one of them jeers, his voice dripping with mockery. “You look like you’ve already had your share, though.”

My hands freeze mid-reach, and the words hit like a punch to the gut. I don’t look up, hoping they’ll just get bored and leave, but they don’t. Another one adds, “Careful, we might not have enough supplies if she’s around.”

Laughter erupts, cruel and cutting. My throat tightens, and I force myself to keep breathing, keep focusing on the task in front of me. Don’t cry. Don’t give them the satisfaction.

Their voices grow louder, and I feel my face flush with a mix of anger and humiliation. I’m desperate to think of something, anything to say, but my mind is blank. Their words start to blur together, and I feel like I’m shrinking under the weight of their mockery. Why can’t they just leave me alone?

“Why don’t you guys just back off?” Murphy’s voice cuts through the taunts like a blade. My head snaps up, and there he is, standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression a mix of irritation and anger.

The guys turn to him, momentarily surprised, before their laughter resumes. “Aw, look at Murphy, defending porky,” one of them mocks. “Didn’t know you had a soft spot, John.”

“Say that again,” Murphy growls, his voice low and dangerous. There’s a tension in the air now, thick and heavy, and I’m torn between wanting to run and staying to see what happens.

One of the bullies steps closer to Murphy, clearly unfazed. “What, you got a thing for her or something?” he sneers, shoving Murphy’s shoulder.

It happens so fast I barely register it. Murphy’s fist connects with the guy’s face, and the sickening crunch of bone echoes in the air. The bully stumbles back, clutching his nose, blood streaming between his fingers.

“You son of a bitch!” one of the others shouts, lunging at Murphy. The fight erupts in a flurry of fists and shouts, chaos unfolding before my eyes. Murphy holds his own at first, his movements sharp and precise, but the others quickly gang up on him.

My heart races as I watch him take a hit to the side, then another to the stomach. He stumbles but doesn’t go down, his expression defiant even as blood drips from his split lip.

“John!” I shout, panic lacing my voice as I scramble to my feet. The sight of him, already bleeding but still fighting, twists something deep in my chest.

Just when it seems like the fight might spiral out of control, Bellamy’s voice booms from the other side of the clearing. “Cut it out! Now!” His men rush in, pulling Murphy and the others apart. Murphy’s lip is split, his knuckles bloodied, and he’s limping slightly as he steps back, but his glare is unwavering.

“Idiots,” Bellamy mutters, shoving the group apart before turning to address the camp. “We don’t have time for this crap. Get back to work.”

I approach Murphy cautiously as the crowd disperses, my heart still racing. “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend. He shrugs, wincing slightly.

“I’ve had worse,” he mutters, but there’s a spark in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. I motion for him to follow me, and he does, albeit reluctantly.

We settle near the edge of the clearing, away from prying eyes. I pull a cloth from my bag, dousing it with water from a nearby container, and carefully press it to his split lip. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, focusing on his injuries to avoid meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, his tone softer than I expect. “I don’t like seeing pretty girls getting fucked with.”

The words catch me off guard, and I freeze, my cheeks burning. “Pretty?” I echo, barely above a whisper.

He smirks, despite the pain. “Don’t act so surprised.”

I bite my lip, trying to steady the butterflies in my stomach. “Well, you still didn’t have to. I… I would’ve been fine.”

“I wanted to,” he says simply, his eyes locking with mine. They’re softer now, but there’s still that fire, that edge that makes my chest ache in the strangest way.

Later that night, I find him limping back toward his tent. He’s clearly still sore, and I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. I rush to his side, steadying him without asking, and he doesn’t protest.

“Where are you staying?” he asks as we near his tent.

I hesitate. “I… I don’t know yet. I haven’t figured it out.”

He stops and looks at me, something unreadable in his expression. “If you want… you can stay here with me. At least for the night, until you find something better.”

I blink, caught off guard by the offer. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Come on.”

Inside, the tent is modest but functional. He pulls out a few extra tarps and blankets, and for a moment, I think he’s going to hand them to me. Instead, he moves to the side and builds a makeshift nest on the ground.

“You can stay on the bed,” he says, gesturing to a crude structure made of wood and tarp.

“But you… you’re hurt. You should take it,” I protest.

“I’m fine,” he insists, settling into his makeshift spot. “Just take the bed.”

Reluctantly, I do, but the guilt lingers. As I lie there, the space between us feels both too small and impossibly vast. My heart races as I glance at him, his silhouette illuminated faintly by the moonlight seeping through the tarp.

I’ll make this up to him, I think, the thought echoing in my mind as sleep pulls me under. Somehow, I’ll make this up to John Murphy.

----

The next morning, I wake before the sun has fully risen, the soft light filtering through the tent casting everything in a muted glow. My body aches slightly from the unfamiliar bed, but it's nothing compared to the guilt twisting in my stomach. Murphy’s breathing is steady, his figure barely moving in his nest of blankets. For a moment, I just watch him, my thoughts racing.

How do I repay someone like John Murphy? He’s not exactly the type to accept a thank-you note or some grand gesture. And yet, I can’t just let this go. He stood up for me. No one’s ever done that before.

I decide to start by making myself useful. By the time Murphy stirs, I’ve already gathered some extra supplies—scrap wood, pieces of metal, and anything else I could scavenge that might help fortify his tent. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“What are you doing?” his voice startles me as I crouch near the entrance, sorting through the pile of things I’ve collected.

I glance up to find him leaning against the makeshift doorframe, his hair tousled and his bruises more pronounced in the morning light. Despite everything, he still manages to look effortlessly confident, like he owns the space around him.

“I thought I could fix this place up a bit,” I mumble, gesturing to the tarp-covered structure. “You know, to say thanks.”

He snorts, limping over to me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I say quickly, standing to face him. “But I want to. You helped me… now let me help you.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, his eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to figure me out. Finally, he shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I spend the day patching holes in the tarp, reinforcing the wooden frame, and even managing to scavenge enough materials to build a small windbreak on one side. Murphy mostly watches, occasionally tossing out sarcastic comments about my handiwork but never outright stopping me. Despite his gruff demeanor, I catch him glancing at me with something that almost looks like amusement—or approval.

That evening, as we sit by the small fire outside his tent, the tension between us feels different. Lighter, maybe.

“Not bad,” he says, nodding toward the newly fortified tent. “For a beginner.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Glad it meets your high standards.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Seriously, though. Thanks.”

I glance at him, surprised by the genuine note in his voice. “You’re welcome,” I say softly, my cheeks heating under his gaze.

The fire crackles between us, and for a moment, the world feels still. Safe. But then Murphy shifts, leaning closer, and the air grows heavy again.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’m not exactly… the easiest guy to be around.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” His smirk returns, and I add, “But you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start to believe you.”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest ache. I want to say more, to tell him that he’s more than he lets on, but the words catch in my throat. Instead, I settle for silence, letting the moment speak for itself.

Later that night, as we settle into the tent again, I catch him watching me from his spot on the ground. “You know,” he says, his voice casual, “you don’t have to keep trying to pay me back. We’re even.”

I shake my head, lying back on the makeshift bed. “We’re not even,” I say firmly. “Not yet.”

He smirks, rolling onto his side to face me. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” I reply, my heart skipping a beat as his gaze lingers on me.

As the silence stretches between us, I realize something: this—whatever is happening between me and John Murphy—isn’t simple. It’s complicated and messy and far from perfect. But as I close my eyes, the thought that echoes in my mind is clear.

I’m not done making this up to him. Not by a long shot.

-----

Here’s how the story could continue:

It’s been weeks since I first shared Murphy’s tent, and somehow, we’ve fallen into a routine. By now, the camp feels less chaotic, though tensions still run high. Murphy has wormed his way into Bellamy’s inner circle, his sharp tongue and quick fists earning him a reputation as someone not to mess with. Meanwhile, I’ve kept busy scavenging, helping around the camp, and doing my best to stay out of trouble.

Sharing the tent has become oddly… comfortable. Murphy’s sarcasm is as biting as ever, but I’ve started to notice a shift. He flirts now, subtle but deliberate, his words often laced with a teasing edge that leaves me flustered. Sometimes he touches me—just small things, like his hand brushing mine when he hands me something or his shoulder bumping against me as we sit by the fire. Each time, it sends a jolt through me, a warmth that lingers long after the moment has passed.

One evening, Murphy doesn’t meet me by the fire like he usually does. My stomach twists with unease as I make my way back to the tent, a small bundle of supplies in hand. When I step inside, I find him lying on the bed, pale and shivering despite the warm air.

“Murphy?” I set the supplies down, kneeling beside him. His eyes flicker open, glassy with fever, and he groans.

“Don’t feel so great,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

I touch his forehead and immediately pull my hand back—it’s burning hot. Panic prickles at the edges of my mind. “You’re burning up. What did you eat?”

He grimaces, his head lolling to the side. “Some berries… thought they were fine.”

My heart sinks. I should’ve checked what he was eating.

“Stay here,” I say, though it’s clear he’s not going anywhere. I rush out to grab water, clean cloths, and anything else I can think of to help. When I return, he hasn’t moved, his breathing shallow and uneven.

I soak a cloth in the water and press it to his forehead, my hands trembling. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” I whisper, though my voice wavers with worry. “You scare off those guys like you’re invincible, but you can’t even tell which berries are safe to eat?”

He lets out a weak chuckle, his lips curving into a faint smirk despite his condition. “Can’t help it… I’m a badass.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, but my chest tightens as I dab at his face, trying to cool him down. His eyes flutter open, and the way he looks at me—soft, vulnerable, and so unlike his usual sharpness—makes my heart skip.

“You’re pretty when you’re worried,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

I freeze, heat rushing to my face. “You’re delirious,” I say quickly, focusing on wringing out the cloth.

“Maybe,” he says, his smirk faint but present. “Still true.”

The night drags on, and I stay by his side, wiping his forehead, making him sip water when he can manage it. At some point, he reaches for my hand, his grip weak but steady, and I let him hold it, my heart thudding in my chest.

By morning, his fever finally breaks. He’s still pale and weak, but he manages a tired smile as I sit beside him, exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders.

“You took care of me,” he says, his voice rough but steadier than before.

“Someone had to,” I reply, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“You don’t owe me anymore,” he says, his gaze locking with mine. “We’re even now.”

The words catch me off guard, and I falter. “What?”

“You patched me up,” he says simply. “You were there for me when I needed you just like I was there for you when you needed me.. You don’t have to feel guilty or try to make it up to me anymore.”

For a moment, I can’t speak. Then I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. “Fine. We’re even.”

His smirk returns, stronger this time. “Good. Now I can ask you out without you thinking it’s some kind of debt repayment.”

My breath catches, and I stare at him, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his smirk widening despite the faint flush creeping up his neck. “I like you. So, what do you say? Dinner by the fire tonight? I might even scavenge something decent.”

I blink, my heart pounding. “You’re impossible,” I mutter, but a smile tugs at my lips.

“Is that a yes?”

I bite my lip, unable to stop the warmth spreading through me. “Yeah. It’s a yes.”

His grin is worth every sleepless hour of the night before.

[inubaki]

The Sea Queen

Chapter 6

————

story commissioned by the amazing @libby-for-life! Based off one of the first pics @sir-tater-of-the-tot made that got me hooked on this fandom to began with. I blame them entirely.

———-

Four hours later, Adam and his crew were tossed around like rag dolls on the churning sea. Towering waves crashed against their ship, the relentless wind shrieked through the rigging, and the howling storm seemed determined to swallow them whole. Adam could hear the frantic shouts of his female crew members as they struggled to secure loose equipment and keep their vessel from capsizing. The salty spray of the ocean drenched him as he fought to maintain his footing on the heaving deck.

His heart raced as he bit his lip, determination hardening his resolve. Grabbing a thick rope with both hands, he pulled with all his might, trying to steady the ship against nature’s wrath. It was a battle unlike any he had ever faced. The ferocity of the storm was terrifying, a chaotic blend of swirling winds and crashing waves that roared like a wild beast. 

As he glanced around, he saw the fear mirrored in his crew's eyes, but there was a fierce determination beneath that fear. They were all in this together, fighting for their survival against the elements. Adam whispered a silent prayer, hoping that somehow, against all odds, they would navigate through this tempest and find safety on the other side.

A piercing scream echoed through the air, slicing through the chaos around Adam and reaching his ears just in time. He spun around, his heart racing, and his breath caught in his throat as he witnessed Lute's desperate struggle. She had stumbled over the railing, her body teetering dangerously over the edge until she was just hanging from the side. With a burst of adrenaline, she managed to grasp the weathered wood with a gripping hand movement, her knuckles white as she fought to maintain her hold. But Adam could see the fatigue in her arms; it was clear she wouldn't be able to hold on for long.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Adam sprinted toward her, his mind focused solely on saving his first mate. The sound of a rushing wind filled his ears as he closed the distance, ignoring the shouting and commotion around him. Lute's eyes widened in a mix of fear and determination as their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them.

As he reached her, Adam grasped her arms tightly, feeling the strength of her muscles tense beneath his grip. With a powerful heave, he pulled her back toward safety, his heart pounding not just from exertion but from the urgency of the moment. Finally, with one last effort, he yanked her up, hauling her away from the brink. Relief washed over him as he felt her weight shift back onto solid ground, the danger momentarily averted.

He sensed the impending chaos before he could fully comprehend it. One moment, Lute was beaming at him, her laughter mingling with the thunderous roars of the storm that raged around them, wind howling and rain lashing against the deck of the ship. In the blink of an eye, the vessel lurched violently, tossed by the surging waves. Adam's heart raced as he felt the deck tilt beneath his feet, and before he could brace himself, he and Lute were hurled off the side of the ship. 

In that split second, adrenaline surged through him, awakening a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. Fueled by instinct and desperation, he managed to grasp Lute and, with a fierce push, flung her away from him, watching as she soared through the turbulent air, her silver hair trailing like a comet’s tail. His heart swelled with relief as she shot back toward the ship, momentarily safe. 

But his brief solace was shattered as the merciless waves crashed over him, pulling him into the icy depths of the ocean. The salty water engulfed him, swallowing his cries for help, as he disappeared beneath the tumultuous surface, his thoughts consumed by the hope that Lute's landing had been secure.

Adam held his breath as long as he could but with how he was being thrown about, he felt disoriented and his lungs burned from trying to hold his breath. Just as he was blacking out, he felt familiar tentacles grasp his body. At least Lute was safe....

As Adam slowly regained consciousness, the first thing that reached his senses was a soft, melodic humming that seemed to echo all around him. The sound was strange yet mesmerizing, floating effortlessly through the water while carrying an inexplicable depth that tugged at the corners of his mind. Confusion washed over him as he tried to move, only to find that his limbs felt heavy and constrained as if they were caught in some invisible grip. 

Suddenly, a deep, resonant chuckle reverberated through the water, pulling him from his thoughts. Panic surged within him as he forced his eyes open. To his astonishment, he realized he was submerged, the world around him a hazy dark blue, and yet he was inexplicably able to breathe. The sensation was both chilling and surreal. 

Instinctively, Adam began to thrash, his body arching as he fought against the pull of the water, desperate to reach the surface before the peculiar atmosphere suffocated him. Just as he was about to lose hope, that haunting chuckle washed over him again, wrapping around him like an eerie embrace. "I forgot how cute you were," a voice teased, smooth and playful, sending a shiver down his spine as he struggled to comprehend his bizarre surroundings.

He was met with a pair of fiery red eyes, glowing with an emotion he couldn't place that sent chills down his spine. At that moment, he realized that all the scars etched into his skin were igniting with an agonizing intensity, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if his very past was clawing its way back to the surface, reminding him of all the pain he had endured. Adam's heart raced wildly in his chest, skipping a beat as a sickening realization washed over him. The creature looming over him, shrouded in darkness and a swirling mist of despair, was none other than a Kraken.

Despite the fear gripping him like a vice, Adam couldn’t tear his gaze away from the monstrous form that he had come to know all too well. Memories of terror and destruction flooded his mind—the chaos it had wrought upon his life, the devastation it had unleashed upon his home. It was a horror he thought he had escaped, yet here it was, tangible and ready to torment him once more.

“Lucifer,” Adam growled, the name escaping his lips like a curse, laden with resentment and a burgeoning rage. Each syllable was infused with the weight of his memories, a defiant acknowledgment of the creature that had shattered his reality and left him to pick up the pieces. 

“Adam,” Lucifer purred, the sound rolling off his tongue like silk yet laced with an unmistakable chill. His eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and a simmering anger that belied his playful facade. “While I’m pleasantly surprised to see you grown up, I must confess I’m also quite furious with you.” 

The playful tone he adopted did little to mask the underlying tension, an edge to his voice that sent a shiver coursing through Adam. "I've told you so long ago...that my kind was rare...and you killed so many of my family." Adam shook as he looked at the fangs that seemed to grow longer. "And while I've somewhat understood why you did this at first...you just kept going. Even getting rid of Krakens who had no part in the destruction of your home. And that is something I couldn't let slide."

"Fine then. Kill me." Adam yelled, surprised that the sound could carry underwater like that. Lucifer blinked before laughing as if he said something funny. Adam looked at him wearily. "Oh, my sweet Adam. I'm not going to kill you." That made Adam tense. 

"It's only fair you replace the Kraken you killed." Adam barely had time to register anything before fangs were pricing his neck. Adam screamed as those sharp teeth ripped into his neck. Lucifer clamped on before slowing letting go, licking a long and thick tongue across the open wound. The blood mingled with the water, slowly rising. "Ah...can't you feel it, Adam? It's time we become one."

Adam whimpered when tentacles began to explore his body. While he wasn't overweight, he did like to indulge in beer and food since he had nothing as a kid. Therefore, Adam didn't really like it when people saw too much of his body since it wasn't really seen as the ideal. Luckily, he had muscles under layers of fat.

Lucifer didn't seem to care as he ripped through his clothes easily, allowing them to sink below them. The Kraken marveled at his body, his eyes showing Adam just how turned on he was. If the large dick poking wasn't anything to go by.

Adam tried to wiggle out but Lucifer held him firm as he explored every inch of bare skin. Every one of them fondled something while hands cupped his face. He felt some touch on his nipples, his stomach fat, his balls, and even around his ass to caress beneath the folds. Adam whimpered again as Lucifer kissed him deeply.

It was harsh and rough, teeth puncturing slightly as Lucifer plunged his tongue into his wet cavern to wrestle his tongue. He immediately won and Adam let out a surprise moan as he was manhandled. He cried out, muffled by the kiss, when an appendage easily made its way into Adam's puckering hole. He would wonder how it was possible to fuck underwater without dying, but he was feeling too much at once to think about it.

A hand gripped his hair and yanked as a tentacle thrusted into him. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this? For you to be in my arms? How angry have I been? Oh, Adam...I'm never letting you go." Lucifer, impatient to finally have him in a way that he could only dream of up until now, prepped him just enough to get him loose before saying, "I might be a bit big...but I'm sure a good boy like you can handle it."

Adam screamed at the appendage entering him, moaning in pleasure at being filled up. He had no idea about this, but Krakens let out a special slime at the tips of their tentacles that acted like an aphrodisiac when they wanted to mate. It had already sunk into his skin and Adam couldn't think of anything other than to be filled. 

Lucifer gripped Adam hard as he slammed mercilessly into him, growling and biting Adam anywhere he could find him. Adam was in too much pleasure to feel the bites as anything more than pleasurable. "Mine! You're mine, Adam!" He spilled his seed into Adam making them both cry out. They both gassed for breath as they came down from their high.

"Well, I hope the seed takes...we'll have to do this a lot more to get my population up again."

—-

pervs:

I did a painting for this one. With some highlights. I rather like this one. Let’s see if my nieces and nephew will drop it by morning. It’s still wet.

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