#i couldnt think of a good title for it rip

[nomstellations]

Trying to work on posting my vore fic backlog, so here's a pretty long one I had on hand that features two of my ocs! Contains similar size vore, m/f vore, somewhat reluctant pred, and willing prey!

Lazy days were best spent lounging, and that was exactly what Marina was doing.

The mage was currently sprawled out on top of the squishy, sand colored belly of her dragon friend Oleander, more affectionately referred to as Olly. The pair were enjoying a slow sunny day in her garden, with the large dragon laying on his back on the grass and Marina laying on top of his sun-baked tummy. She was dozing, comforted by the warm sunshine and the deep rumbling purrs of the dragon beneath her. His arm was draped across her back keeping her in place, and it was just the perfect moment to drift off…

But a persistent sound was keeping her up. It sounded like something heavy thumping the ground alongside the rustling of leaves. The mage recognized the sound as his tail thumping against the ground, Olly must be really happy about their position but she's trying to nap! Marina lifts her head and opens her eyes, only to be met with his bright green gaze on hers. He blinks, his face rapidly starting to turn red.

"O-oh! Rina! I didn't know you were awake! I'm sorry, I was...just watching you rest! Y'know, as a friend!"

She raises her eyebrow at him, the look in his eyes told her there was something he wanted, and that was a bit of a questionable thing to say. "Are you alright? Need to get up and stretch or something?" The nature dragon shook his head. "No no, I like having you here with me! I'm comfortable, just…." A rumble from below her interrupted him, distinctly different from his rumbling purrs. "...hungry." She nods, it was probably a good time for a snack! She starts to wriggle off of his belly, there's a spinach quiche in the fridge that the both of them can share. She's held in place however, and she gives Olly a puzzled look. His expression is a bit hard to read as he looks down at Marina, with his tail still thumping against the ground. "U-um...it's not just anything...I crave something...specific." 

“Specific how? I can’t get you what you want if you don’t tell me.” The dragon whined quietly, his tail beating out a rhythm as he struggled to word his thoughts. "Um…well…you know how I'm a dragon, right? And dragons are mostly, um…carnivorous?" Marina nodded, giving him a curious look. "And I don't eat meat…but, I still crave it…”

“Was…that it? I can just get you something with meat in it, you don't have to be all embarrassed about it!” Marina laughed, but the dragon’s expression didn’t change from his worried look. “N-no, eating meat like that will make me sick! I just…I want something l-lively! Something that’ll…put up a fight! Wiggle on the way down! I want…”

He trailed off, anxiously studying Marina’s face. The mage's expression was hard to place, was she confused? Afraid? Angry? Oleander's tail only grew more agitated, the bulb at its end thumping against the earth as he panicked. "B-but I wouldn't bite or anything! I'd never want to hurt you, Rina! You’d be completely safe, and it’d only be for a little! I'm sorry, you don't have to, y–"

“Relax, Oleander.” 

The dragon fell still as Marina rested a hand on his face and smiled in an effort to be comforting. “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”

“Y— You’ll do it? No questions asked??”

“Olly, how long have we known each other?” Marina laughed. “Do you think that I don’t trust you? I know you wouldn’t ever try to hurt me, and while this does make me sort of nervous…I trust you know what you’re talking about. If it helps you feel better, I’m willing to do it. It’s the least I could do for you.”

Near immediately, a wide and toothy smile spread across the dragon's chubby face, and his tail beat out a rhythm on the ground in excitement. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you, Rina! Oh man, how do I...? Ahh, I don't know! Just...”

Olly falls still and opens his jack-o-lantern maw, waiting patiently for something.

“...? Olly, what are you doing?”

“I-I dunno! I've never eaten anyone before, uh....could you just...y'know...”

Marina laughs. “Okay okay, I get it. I'll feed myself to you, alright?” Taking the flush on his greenish face as a sign to proceed, she gingerly places her hand on his tongue. It's warm and slick with saliva, but slightly rough...she notes that Oleander's whole body is tense, almost as if he's scared. “It's okay, Olly...I'll be sure to tell you if anything hurts.”

Placing her other hand on his tongue, she slowly slid both hands towards his throat. Instincts seemingly took over as he suddenly clamped his mouth on her arms, a swallow tugging them deeper and herself closer to him. What sounded like an apology was mumbled around her, and the dragon opened his mouth to make room for her after she nodded at him to proceed.

Marina's head was pulled into his mouth, and Oleander's draconic instincts kicked in as she wriggled a bit to situate herself. Starting to greedily swallow her down, Olly grabbed at his companion to push her further down his throat, not even bothering with little bites as he began to wolf her down. So this must be what the spinach quiche feels like...each thick, hungry gulp pulled her deeper into his gullet, and the excited thrum of the dragon's heartbeat came and went as warmth steadily engulfed her body.

Steadily, Marina slid into the nature dragon's surprisingly spacious stomach. The walls were thick and slimy, closing in slightly to feel around their new guest as she moved around to get comfortable.

“Oleander? I'm safe and sound!”

The only reply she got was a deep rumble, reverberating around the mage. He was....purring, wasn't he? He only ever made this sound when he was content...she'll let him enjoy the feeling for now. This clearly must've helped those instincts of his, and it wasn't even that bad in here. Warm just like the sun outside, soft just like his scaly stomach...just darker, and much wetter.

[mooooonnnzz]

This is kind of cringe but can you write a fic or make a headcanon list of Stan/Fords daughter getting a partner and how the dads would react? I love your work btw it's great!

2010 Toyota Corolla

Stan + Ford HC's of their teen getting a partner!

⟡ 1,5k words

⟡ gender neutral reader!

⟡ guys i think im going through a writers block can u tell

⟡ i was doing so good too omg

⟡ i couldnt figure out a title so i used a song i was listening to ths is a song i swear

⟡ cute lil simple hc of of the oldmen!!

⟡ if u wanna be added to my taglist dm or comment!

⟡ i might like take a two day break from writing to get it working again ngl

Stan

♡ Stan is extremely protective of you. He never shunned the idea away of you having a partner, but he never really encouraged it. He told you that it was “a waste of time,” that finding a partner at such a young age isn’t really necessary until you’re older. You didn’t bother protesting against him because at the time you hadn’t found your person yet. But when you did, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous to tell Stan about it. You knew he wasn’t going to be overly mad, but he was going to be slightly against it knowing his views on you having a partner.  “Dad?” You nervously fidgeted with your fingers. “Yes, pumpkin?” You inhale, mustering up all the courage to tell Stan. “I have something to tell you…” You draw out. Stan’s face lightly drops, already having a feeling of what this “something” is. Pausing his TV show, he loudly gulped. “I’m dating someone!” You blurt out. Stan stares at you for the longest time, the gears in his head turning as he processes what you said. “You? Dating?” He sits up from the couch. “I need a moment…” 

♡ After he recovers from the initial shock, he’s bombarding you with questions, such as; “Who are they?” “Do I know them?” “Are they smart?” And so on. You had no problem answering his questions and he had no issue giving you questions with how rapidly he shot them at you. Whenever you answered his questions, you could see the wrinkles in his forehead deepen the more you open up about your partner. This was definitely going to take some time for him to get used to. “Thank you for at least telling me, pumpkin.” He says after finishing up the whole Q&A.

♡ Meeting your partner was a must before he’d allow you to hang out by yourselves. When they came over to the shack, Stan had this whole gruff persona. He didn’t show much emotion and when he did, it was to show his distaste for what your partner said. “How long have you known [Name] for?” He interrogated, flashing a bright light to their face. “For a year now, sir.” They responded, shielding their eyes from the shining light. “Sir? I like that.” He mumbles to himself, scribbling +1 point on a notepad. When he turned over to you, he gave you a big thumbs up and a crooked smile. You couldn’t tell if it was going well. “Why do you want to date them?” Stan raised a brow, tapping the pencil on his chin. “Because I fell in love with them, sir.” Stan let out a loud “hmm,” and scribbled down, ‘very straight to the point’ on the note. After the interrogation was over, he ripped the note and gave it to your partner. “This is your score.” He said. “I guess you did good.” 

♡ He pulled your partner into a room and had a serious “talk” about something you didn’t have a clue about. But when they came out of the room with a horrified look on his face while Stan was proudly smiling to himself, you had a tiny idea of what he said. They turn around to Stan and Stan twiddles his fingers, his other hand sliding across this neck threateningly. “Dad!” You smacked his arm. 

♡ Even after Stan approved of your partner, he still wasn’t fully swayed by them. Whenever they’d be over, Stan would send death glares behind their back when they weren’t looking. But you would always catch them and when you did, Stan would sheepishly smile at you and make a heart gesture and point at your partner. He only ever came around them when Stan noticed them staring at one of the monster tourist attractions. “Whaddya lookin’ at, kid?” They began explaining how interested they were in the craft of making these grotesque monsters and Stan was more than happy to tell them the process. “Glue and staples come in handy, kid. I’ll tell you.” 

♡ It wasn’t after that, you’d find your partner and Stan creating all kinds of monsters while cackling and talking. Stan saw you walk in and his face brightened up. “Pumpkin, look at what they made! It is disgusting.” He pointed a glue covered hand to the little ugly statue of a half chipmunk and fish. “Oh? Isn’t this something…” You poke at the monstrosity. “Isn’t it amazing?” Stan laughs, impressed with your partner's handiwork. “Oh, yeah. This is amazing.” You plainly said. “I’m going to leave you two be…” Conversation erupted between the two while you walked away with a big smile to your face. 

♡ “I like that kid.” Stan says, a pleased look on his face. “Oh, I can tell, Dad.” You roll your eyes playfully. “Hey! They’re a great person. Perfect fit for my little [Name].” His fingers reached out to pinch your cheeks. “Oh, stop!” You push his hands away. “I’m just messin’ with ya, pumpkin.” Anything will and can make this old man laugh. “You might as well steal them from me.” Stan’s perked up. “Really?” He overplayed his excitement. You send him a dirty look while he barks out in laughter. “You’re gross.” 

Ford

♡ He never really thought of you ever dating anyone. Romantic partners didn’t exist to him considering how terribly alone he is. The only thing he ever said about you dating was; “Uh, yeah?” and carried on with his work and that was a good enough answer for you. Ford found out about your partner when he walked in on you and your partner cuddling on the couch. “[Name],” He clears his throat awkwardly, pointing at your partner. “Who is this?” You introduce your partner to Ford and he’s genuinely speechless. “Since when?” He whispers to you after pulling you aside in the kitchen. “Since like, last week?” Ford’s jaw falls open. “And you never thought to tell me?” You shrugged. “I asked you and you said you were okay with it.” You tell him. “When?!” 

♡ He would be so awkward around your significant other. “So…What is your name?” He’s tugging at his turtleneck, silently dying from how silent this whole exchange is. It takes him a lot of time to warm up to them, a lot of hangouts with the three of you together so he could be comfortable with them. He also uses this as an advantage and studies how they treat you and what they should improve on to make you happier. At the end of the hangouts, he’d slip in a note in their pocket. “If you want to stay with my child, you need to read the note.” He didn’t mean for it to sound menacing, but it was unfortunately received like that. “[Name], I think your dad hates me.” 

♡ Like Stan, there’s an interrogation but it’s not as serious as Stan’s. Ford would have called them over and told them to sit down. He begins asking questions and writing down their answers. “What are you hoping to do with [Name]?” Your partner blushed. “To marry them hopefully.” Ford nodded his head. ‘Disgustingly cheesy.’ He wrote it down in big words. “If I ever wanted to conduct experiments on you, would you allow me?” You jump in at the mention of that. “Okay! I think they’ve answered enough questions, Dad!” 

♡ He deep cleans the areas where you and your partner hugged, kissed and cuddled in. “Dad, what are you doing?” He has a mask and a plastic protective layer of armor around him. “I’m cleaning all the gross teenage bacteria!” You had to walk out after that.  “Is this something you’re seriously going to keep up?” Even though Ford is the smartest man alive, he has trouble understanding the true nature behind relationships. “Yes, Dad. This isn’t a one time thing and we’re over. It’s a relationship.” 

♡ Oddly enough, they bonded over their shared interest in researching the wonders of Gravity Falls. You’d often find them outside, Ford kneeled down to the ground, inspecting something while your partner has a notepad in hand, printing down whatever Ford is telling him to write. “Hey, what are you–” “SHHHH!” You looked at them with a confused look. “We need to be utter and total silence.” Ford held out a finger while he whispered notes for them to write. “Why though?” Ford pointed at a sleeping little fairy that was blanketed in a leaf. “Leave the fairy alone!” Ford opened his mouth to argue back, but his nose twitched and before he could react he sneezed, blowing the little fairy away. A silent tiny scream could be heard. “That was awesome, Mr. Pines!” Your partner held a hand out for Ford to high five but Ford was too sad to high five them back. 

♡ “Final opinions on them?” You ask. “They aren’t too bad. They could be a good research partner.” You smile. “Just don’t take them from me.” You say, nudging him gently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

[bonkbobl]

the mediator between the head and hands must be the heart

ROOSE BOLTON X READER | PART 1

a/n: this was not supposed to have a part 2 but i just really like the idea of secret pervert roose bolton and this will absolutely not be the last fic exploring that. also maaaad respect if you get the movie reference of the title.

summary: taking roose to bed isnt too bad but that really just makes it worse. as does the several confusing feelings bubbling inside of you. you really are beginning to wonder if you truly hate roose bolton

warning: noncon turned dubcon, breeding kink, poor reader is so confused 😭😭 with her body and her feelings, lots of short smut scenes but like their relationship is mostly sexual to begin with, stockholm syndrome vibes if you choose to look at it like that

His warm body felt hot, firm, and sweaty over yours, especially as your tits rubbed against his chest each time he thrusted into you. You just lay there, hoping he would cum and roll of of you before you did.

You always hoped so. But you think he must be able to tell somehow.

You gripped the pillow beneath you so hard youre sure youd could rip it to shreds.

A moan you were trying desperately to keep at bay ripped through your throat because you could hear and feel how spongey and tight your cunt had become. Each time he pushed through felt like he was coming right back home. You couldnt stop your body from welcoming him in like that even if you wanted to.

Whimpers fought past your lips and though you managed to conceal most of them under your breath, you knew he could hear. And it was growing more difficult. Turning your head to the side, you started to sort of let go into a bundle of sheets you’d grabbed in your hand.

Your husband didn't like that one bit.

Roose grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, fucking you harder than before and the whimpers you were failing to stifle tumbled out.

He was in awe of you, watching your eyebrows cinch, your beautiful chest rising and falling, the way your hair was splayed out, your tits bouncing on an especially hard thrust.

You stared at Roose’s lust blown eyes and you could hardly believe this was the same man you knew months ago, before he betrayed your King and forced you into his bed. He was always so composed, a practical man. Now to see him rutting into you, grunting, cursing at how good it felt to be inside, enveloped, you could hardly recognize the cool exterior you knew him to have.

You whimpered at the feeling of his hand moving down from your chin to grip your neck tightly.

It was his hand tightening around your throat that left you tumbling towards release this time. Convulsing around him as always, eyes fluttering close. Roose loved to watch your puffy lips part as you breathed your shaky little breaths.

Almost every time, your release would immediately spur his own. And thats exactly what it did this time.

You resigned yourself to just try to calm down rather than fight it. He was going to put a baby in you. That was his goal. You hate to say it but the thought began to seem not so bad, since you imagined these nightly visits would cease as soon as his seed took root inside you. And you could then walk away with whatever small slice of dignity still remaining.

Give him an heir. And he'll be done with you.

Roose kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheek… before finally landing on your still parted lips. You kissed back instinctively, legs trailing up his side. It was your body moving itself without your minds consent.

Your walls squeezed him lovingly, fluttering, rolling your hips. You hope he succeeded tonight. Your mind cannot take more of this war that your body is waging against it.

—————

You liked embroidering your dresses. You found that it quiets the soul as much as reading does. Even in your time in Robb's camp, if you found yourself contemplating the losses of the past year far too much, you'd turn to your embroidering, reading, or drinking with the other men at camp. It reminded you of the days of leisure in Winterfell, when you'd rather find comfort and peace —and gossip— in Sansa than adventure with Robb and Arya.

It was lonely in Winterfell now. Except when your husband would come to visit you but of course, well, you had mixed feelings about that.

You've never felt anything quite like the confusion that came with being married to Roose Bolton. You looked up from your embroidery and stared at the door to your bedchamber. He was to be here, you think a quarter of an hour ago.

The second that thought had crossed your mind, you shook your head. And you are better off for his tardiness. In fact you should be praying to the gods that he trips falls down the ramparts of the castle.

Well... you don't hope he dies but you hope he breaks a leg or something of the sort. The thought of him dying wouldn't bring you the same satisfaction. You just want to see him scowl at you again as you taunt and teas, like he used to. The good old times when you weren't his prisoner and you held the power. Or perhaps that was simply an illusion too.

Now, it's you who scowls at him, and he is the one who smirks at you with that self-satisfied look on his face. Gods, he disgusts you. Almost as much as you disgust yourself. You were disgusting for, Gods forbid you ever have to say this outloud, enjoying the time you shared with him at night.

Yes, that's something you've unfortunately had to come to terms with. Mostly because the bastard cant keep his comments to himself about how you squeeze him, how you drip for him, how your pretty little cunny is always prepared for him — much more amiable than you.

You could only hope that endurance is all you need. You just need to endure until you become with child — you dont know why it's taking this long. Is it supposed to take this long? You pray to the Gods you are fertile because the quicker you have his child the sooner he'll leave you alone. Perhaps he'll even let you rot here quietly.

And you can then forget about this conflict within you. No more nightly confusions.

The door creaked open and your head shot up, stomach twisting with desire. Roose walked in, starting straight toward the table you sat at and you watched him pour a cup of water for himself then another for you.

Ah yes, as if to make you suffer deeper, yesterday he told you he would cease bringing wine to your room as it would not be good for his heir if you were to drown it with alcohol. You nearly choked him when he took it away from you.

He raised his cup to you, acknowledging your presence with a slight upward tilt in his lips. You watched him critically. "You look happy today, husband."

Roose hummed and took a sip of his water then he set the cup down and offered you his hand. You stared at it dumbly for two seconds before taking it and letting him lead you to the small window looking out of the tower.

Resting his hand on the small of your back, Roose turned to look at you, eyes scanning your side profile until you turned your gaze to him.

What is he doing?

You didn't lie. Your husband looked very strangely chipper, the hint of a smile seemingly permanent on your face. To be frank, it unsettled you greatly.

Then to end your agony, Roose finally spoke, "Do you enjoy this view, my lady?"

You wondered what sort of game he was trying to play with you. Another one of his tricks, likely, or he simply wishes to gloat to you that he's taken your childhood home.

"The center of all the North and it is ours."

Hesitation filled you along with a deeper confusion than the confusion you'd already felt.

"It will be ours for generations to come," His soft voice always had a smooth gentleness to it but smooth and gentle were pretty and digestible masks, concealing the cruelty that laid beneath. But this time, there was no cruelty in his words.

"Y-yes, my lord."

It scared you more than when he would be cruel. "I had hope that you would learn to step into your role, wife."

"My role? My role is to be your breeding bitch and provide heirs, is it not?"

Roose chuckled at the bite behind your words, "I do believe you chose to become my Lady Wife, when faced with the options."

Your memory remains sharp and does not betray you.

Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton?

You still failed to find the distinction.

"You will be more than a-" Roose made a sour face "-womb to pop sons into. In time. I'll be sure of it," he said matter of factly.

You eyed him cynically, unsure of what he meant by that, reminding yourself over and over that this was the very same man who tortures people for fun, who aims to kill everyone who was once near and dear to you, who tries endlessly to tame you and kill your spirits.

If he means to kill your spirits, he better be a persistent man. Because he can toy with you all he wants but you refuse to let him destroy you the way his bastard did Theon Greyjoy.

You closed your eyes as your husband leaned in to plant a kiss to your jaw, trying not to show any visible sign of arousal or discomfort. But it was difficult not to react to the feeling of his rough finger, meeting you at your wrist and ghosting along the back of your hand.

Looking at the ground first, you slowly turned your gaze up at him, staring at him through your lashes. And despite the fact that he had touched you in much more intense, unspeakable ways every night for the past few moons, you found your heart's beat growing increasingly heavy.

Roose's eyes fixated on your lips, the ghost of a smile twitching for a second as if he had just thought of something that amused him. Then he met your eyes again, appreciating that he could always read you. He could always tell. The breathing, the way your eyes looked heavier, the way your lips slightly parted for your little tiny gasps and sighs. He could read you like a book.

He pulled away from you, calmly walking toward the bed as he began undoing some of his clothes and you were left, staring dumbly at the spot he was just in.

When you finally regained the wits to look at him, he quirked his head to the side, "Come to bed."

Before you could even think of anything intelligent to say, your body obeyed him.

—————

You groaned. Or you think you should call it that. In reality it was a noise that you didn't even think yourself capable of making — something feral and more animal than human, but he'd also never taken you like that before.

It had been a week since that very very strange and unexplainable conversation with your husband in your bedchambers, in which he told you of his expectations for his lady wife. Ever since, he's been just slightly different.

It would have barely been noticeable for anyone else but you were his wife and you were his prisoner. He was the only man you saw every day.

He took you to bed with a different sort of energy. Sometimes it felt slower but even when he went fast, you felt he was more grabby and handsy.

One thing you noticed, that started to make your knees weak, was he seemed to take a liking to placing a hand on your belly, or more accurately your womb. He paid stronger attention to your tits as well, liking to suck your nipples into his mouth and nip gently at them to send shocks of pleasure and pain rippling through you.

Today, was the first time he'd fucked you during the day time. The moment you woke up, laying with his arms around you, back pressed against his, you felt his lips on your shoulder.

He fucked you as the two of you lay sideways on the bed.

He held your belly with one hand, grasped your shoulder with the other, and used the leverage to pump his cock into more efficiently. You bit your lip so hard you tasted your own blood trying to hide your noises. They eventually came out as they always did but this time you squeaked uncontrollably, real, wanton moans escaping you.

The unhuman sound you'd made was when Roose finally pumped you full of his spend. After which, he pulled out, letting his cum drip down your thigh and onto the bed.

You laid there, still recovering from the intensity because he barely waited for you to gain awareness before filling you. And by the time you lifted your upper body off the bed, looked around the room, and found him, he was kneeling back down on the bed, a rag in hand. Roose cleaned the mess up efficiently and then tossed the dirtied rag on the dirtied sheets next to you.

You watched, curious. You find that its the commonality in your interactions with Roose. You watch each other. You learn each other. And you've been watching more because his sudden inclination towards gentleness has struck you.

True to the thoughts you were having about him, he chuckled fondly at the sight of your big eyes evaluating his every move, gave your ass a squeee, and stood to get to his clothes.

This was the only time, you swore, that you would ever allow yourself to appreciate your husband's body. After this, you would close your eyes, tear them out of their sockets, if they even dared to rake down to his surprisingly tight ass on any occasion but this one, isolated, self indulgent moment. You were sure to look back, straight into his eyes once he turned back around.

He shamelessly gave you the same self indulgent up and down, appreciating the image of his wife, fucked out— a mess— first thing in the morning.

"Come," he beckoned, "Get dressed."

You think you furrowed your brows on accident because he picked up on your confusion.

"You'll sit with my advisors as we discuss governance from now on. There's no reason Lady Bolton should be confined to her chambers."

—————

New freedoms were granted to you every day. It started with being invited to sit with and counsel Roose alongside his advisors. Some days you would ride with Roose, which must seem like a great amount of trust placed in you but of course Roose would always bring along one or two of his best hunters in case you felt the urge to run. You were the human equivalent of a leashed dog, really.

That’s how you reminded yourself that you’re not in a good place. Because at times it was getting difficult to remember you were a prisoner, as your cage became prettier and wider with more and more playthings and distractions to keep you busy.

It was especially difficult to remember, walking through the courtyards from your childhood, arm laced in your husbands. It was the type of thing youd watch your Lord and Lady Paramount do, staring in loving envy of their bond. You found it difficult to rip yourself from the moment and carry on the bitterness that used to define your days when shared glances and discreet touches culminated in the rare, indulgent kiss once the meeting concluded. No you couldnt remember to hate him when he touched your face and granted a soft, lingering kiss as soon as his councilmembers scurried out of the room.

And the nightly passions never ceased either.

You lay one night, settled into his side as he lay on his back. Your cheek rested on his chest and your hand toyed with the little bit of hair in his stomach. For the first time, you think about killing him, really plotting a plan and finding a way to do it and youre dreadfully unwilling to think on it further. You cant help but wonder if you’ve truly lost.

But your mind is calm, it feels like its full of cotton, so clouded whenever you tilt your head to sneak a goance at Roose, who you really quickly realize is just watching and studying you, playing with the ends of your hair mindlessly.

"Do you remember when you visited me at Harrenhall?"

Yes you do. Of course you did. You remember telling Talisa that you still love her and Robb and that she should do her best to advise him and keep him grounded no matter how stubborn he gets. You were hoping to return and sit back upon Robbs council afterward.

He just frustrated you sometimes. So unwilling to accept criticism at times.

Even so, treachery never even crossed your mind as an option

"Yes?"

"I had always found myself wondering why," Roose spoke, only a little unsure and you hadn't caught on to the subtle difference in his usual tone.

You were too busy wondering what kind of game he was playing — if this just happened to be some kind of trick. Why was Roose leading you down memory lane? Hes not exactly a man known for his gooey sentiment. You could only imagine he means to remind you how much he's managed to change you since then.

"I..." You hesitated. Because really, it all felt too dreadfully awkward. But nevertheless you felt inclined to tell the truth. It was somewhat out of spite, a way to say — I truly respected you and you never reciprocated. Though you doubt he'd even care. "I had always enjoyed your presence, my lord."

Roose was silent so you took that to mean he wanted you to continue.

Thinking for a few seconds, you laughed at your own past foolishness, "I just... I wanted to see an old friend. I missed seeing you at the King's Table."

Really thinking back, it was a rather anxious time for you. You thought perhaps you were going crazy. You really just wanted to talk to someone who might understand though even during your visit, you never managed to broach the subject with Roose. Rather you spent your days going to his receptions, dining with him, reading when he needed to focus but otherwise babbling his ear off.

You were anxious thinking of the possible outcomes of the war. In reality, this was when you began to waver in your faith that Robb could win the war. There was nasty division in his ranks over his marriage, over his handling of the Kingslayer. They were all losing faith in the King.

You were anxious trying to think of any way to fix it. Roose had been on your side more than not, though you had your occasional disagreements. You had hoped he'd be a good person to bounce ideas off of.

But he changed the topic every time you mentioned Robb.

You had been too naive to notice and wonder why.

"When did you realize?" You asked, "That... that Robb had lost the war?"

Roose felt you look up at him so he met your eyes. He closed his parted lips, swallowing at the sight of you in the warm, dim light that the fire casted in the room. Just a year ago, Roose could hardly conceive something so sweet existing in this world. The one good thing to come from House Stark.

His hand came up to pet your hair and you involuntarily sank into his chest, averting your gaze. "It wasn't any particular moment that caused me to realize... many poor decisions, many displays of arrogance."

He tucked your hair behind your ear and his hands came down, trailing over your jaw to settle in a position cupping your cheek.

"I realized I did not want to die for a boys many mistakes, because he refused to listen to his advisors. I did not want to follow a King who was less reasonable than a girl, younger than he. Because if that girl could understand better than he, what kind of king would that make him? And I realized he would certainly lead that girl to her death."

You thought on his words cautiously. The first parts made sense but the implication that he had considered you and what would happen to you at length through all his plotting confused you. "Why..." But the several questions you had jumbled together in your head and you couldn't start.

"Everything I have done is for the betterment of my house and the North. I thought, fundamentally, we are the same in this way. At some point I found myself conceding that you and I, though it is not immediately obvious, are like-minded individuals."

"The betterment of the North..." You muttered, not being able to help the bitter tone in your voice. You just… didn’t believe that his motives were truly selfless.

"You don't mean to really tell me you disagree. The boy would have led us all to our deaths. When I realized, I'm not sure. But I know that when I realize I'm fighting on the losing side, it is better to mitigate the loses. For everyone involved."

"And why save me then?"

Roose paused, looking down at you again. You stared up at him, wide eyed, curious. And he couldn't help the smirk, though it depends on how you choose to look at it — it was one of his more fond smirks that held the confidence and self satisfaction that it always did, but also a sense of contentedness.

You were laying there, on his chest, staring up at him and you've never looked more like you were completely and wholly his. Contentedness was the only thing he knew in that moment.

"There was a time I looked at you and felt nothing but perplexed. Often I'd rather do without the confusion so I thought it better to let you die."

You scoffed.

But Roose continued, "Then the frustration became a different flavor once you began approaching me more. I began thinking that perhaps under better circumstances I could have waited, then asked our King to approve my asking your hand in marriage."

A touch of cynicism caused you to say, "Oh, don't tell me it's because you love me."

"No," Roose answered calmly, lips quirking up in amusement, "But I knew you were the most fit for the title of Wardeness of the North. More than any other woman."

"And?"

He looked at you, a question in his eyes.

"And you wanted to fuck me. You forgot that part," You continued to stare at him challengingly.

"Yes, more than any other woman." And again it was his absolute lack of shame and frankness that caused you to acquiesce and hide your warm face back in his chest. "So did you," he said as if it were some casual reminder and not a gross accusation, which was how you took it.

You propped yourself up on your elbow so that you could properly stare at him with the incredulous look that had spread across your face. "A man without shame."

"Don't pretend. You forget I've had two wives before you," Roose said, eyes raking down. Your chest was tantalizingly pressed against the bed and it made them look bigger than they already were. "I've had two women who lay still under me as they reluctantly performed their duties. You are not one of those women. Not even the first night."

Your eyes hardened in a glare at your husband but for whatever reason, your traitorous, degenerate body never failed to respond to Roose Bolton. Your body truly served him and not your own mind. Or perhaps it served your treacherous heart which never seemed to be within your control when he was nearby.

"I'll always remember how you squirmed against me. Even I was shocked."

Scoffing, you spit out "Oh you're happy about it."

"I am," He spoke, ever so frank, "It's not common for lords of my age to find such a beautiful young wife so willing to let me into her bed." He strokes your face a little and you tense despite wanting nothing but to melt into his hand, "But you... well your mouth remains as stubborn as your mind. But your eyes give it away. Your eyes beg for me."

You sighed, imagining. Because though you tried to glare at him you wondered if he wasn't bluffing — if he could truly see something else in your gaze. So you just huff and turn your face away, settling back into his side in silent admission of defeat.

Roose Bolton chuckled beneath you, a real chuckle. His hand wrapped around your shoulder, caressing you with some real tenderness behind it. You suppose out of all the outcomes available, you could have been worse off.

—————

One morning many days later struck you hard. Right when You rose from bed, you ran to your chamberpot and emptied your stomach of last nights dinner. You were sure that it was finally what you had been hoping for — a pregnancy. And though you were really hoping for that to be the case merely a week ago, hoping it might give you some relief from your husband, you no longer really feel that way for some reason.

Its for the best, You think to yourself. You'll tell him of it and he'll be happy. He'll praise you for doing your duty as Lady Bolton and you'll be free of him from your bed for the next nine months. In that time, you can surely teach yourself to truly and deeply hate him again, as you used to. You just need to realize that thats still what you want.

To get through the day, you passed a note to a cupbearer for your husband, telling him you felt ill and would not be leaving your room. You had the maester bring you a potion to help with the sickness. He told you, he was positively certain that you were with child.

Later that night, when your husband entered your room, he made for the table immediately and sat, leaning back and sighing. The only bit of respite in the day. He was happy to see you after such a long day with no rest.

You poured him a glass of water and he hummed, thanking you for it. He was in a chipper mood. He was tired, but you could tell his shoulders were relaxed. You wondered if the maester already informed him.

"I woke up this morning. Feeling ill," you told him, "I talked to the maester..."

You watched him regard you with interest and a small smirk graces his face, "Did you?" And he patted his thigh.

You look at him inquisitively because never in all your time together has he made that request. And with a pause, you huffed and stood to obey, settling yourself in your husbands lap. "He said it's entirely likely I could be with child."

Roose made a satisfied grunt and played with your hair, pushing it out of your face.

You let him. You were confused but you let him. You were especially confused when he landed a kiss on your lips, tender and loving and with the usual fervor that marks his kisses.

Roose pulled away after a few short seconds and said, "I was wondering when the sickness would start," he smirked deviously, lips still brushing yours.

You stared back bewildered. He had been wondering, as in he was wondering before today, when your sickness might start, meaning he knew already? Or was that simply a poorly worded phrase?

"I had the maester inspect your chamber pot daily. I would be the first to know when you would have come to be with child."

"How long have you—"

"Three weeks."

And you just scoffed to yourself, shaking your head incredulously.

"Whats wrong?" Roose laughed, finding himself amused with your reaction.

"I... I was under the impression that we would... stop… being sexual once I came to be with child. But obviously not."

"What gave you that impression?"

"I—" You paused fully and thought on it.

Nothing. Nothing really gave you that impression other than the fact that all he talked about was siring an heir and all that your septas taught you about being intimate with a man were in relation to siring an heir. No one had taught you about how it could feel good for a woman. All you had ever heard was how it feels amazing for men. You suppose the logical conclusion would be that he'd continue to bed you for his own benefit but alas when you grow up with the notion of bedding only for procreation, the notion sticks.

"I suppose I've never heard of husband and wife fucking for pleasure. Husbands seek whores after their wife grows fat with a child."

"Are you disappointed?” Roose’s voice was filled with amusement at your naivete.

No— Yes!

... in between. You struggle to answer because yes you are disappointed because this all has been rather taxing on your mind. It's not easy to keep your composure and wits around Roose when he's toying with you, especially when your memory of the previous night flashes in your head. It's difficult to remind yourself who the enemy in the room is. It's difficult to remember why he's your enemy. After all, he saved you, didn't he?

Yes theres the complication. Was this man your enemy? Did you truly disagree with his actions? Can you not rectify his decisions in your mind? You know you wouldn't have done what he did, not in a million years... but you don't know what it is — your likeness in logical thinking or the mere fact that you've grown strangely fond of him over the past years — you can't condemn him for the actions he took against your King. You only disliked him because that King was your brother.

You don't know the answer. The correct answer, some would say is clear, but others would argue that there is no correct answer, only the illusion of correctness placed upon you by those that came before.

And so you don't answer.

You just kissed him again.

And you fumbled, reaching down to unlace his cock. You pulled him out, pulling away from him. And he watched you, breathless as you also did away with your under garments.

Quicker and more assuredly than any previous night, you mounted him and seated him deep inside, both of you groaning out.

The position was foreign to you but you grew accustomed quickly, rolling your hips, grabbing the back of the chair for help as you began to rise and fall. You were used to being on your stomach or your back. Sometimes he even took you against the table. But this was the first time you were on top. By how his mouth remained gently agape as he pushed your nightgown gently down your shoulders, you would wager and say the change is welcome.

"These will grow swollen in time, just as your belly swells with my son," Roose teased. You shuddered as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking and sending waves of shock through you.

His arms came around your situating at your waist, holding you close. And he began moving you to help you bounce on him. As his thick cock glided through you, you couldn't help but feel you were right where you belonged.

[touyasdoll]

Why Are You Here?

pairing: rockstar!Touya Todoroki x ex girlfriend!reader (fem), model!Keigo x reader (implied)

warnings: quirkless!au. exes to lovers. reader's wearing a dress. no cheating involved. reader & Keigo aren't exclusive, but it's still a little shady. Touya has low self worth. bathroom sex. wall sex. unprotected sex. biting if you squint. dacryphiia if you squint. v mild degradation. praise. reader gets picked up. creampie. emotionally charged sex. tiniest bit of angst, but it's immediately resolved.

word count: 3.5k

notes: based on the MGK song of the same title. his music always makes me think of Touya, so I couldnt resist 💕

also shout out & credit to @emotionalsupportemoboys for making me fall so deeply in love with rockstar!Touya that it actually hurts sometimes. every version of this man that you write is just *chef's kiss*

💕Heartbeats & Handgrenades Masterlist 💕

“Why are you here?” 

You recognize the voice behind you immediately. Recognize the ire permanently laced into his words. Ire that was never truly directed at you, even now. He’s always had plenty of reasons to be angry, but not with you. Not for long, anyway. 

After inhaling a silent breath, you turn to face him and, unfortunately, he looks as good as he ever has without even having to try. It’s unfair, honestly.

Snow white hair perfectly mussed atop his head. Dark, ripped up jeans. A black button down that’s half undone, offering you a generous peek at the smooth skin of his well toned chest, covered in various tattoos that you know you could trace without even having to look at them.

And then there’s that fucking look on his face. The handsome smirk that has your knees turning to gelatin, but you’re determined to try and prop up your walls. They always seem to be made of cardboard when it comes to Touya, but something is better than nothing. 

“Getting a drink? I could ask you the same question. This was my bar first.” You offer nothing more than a nonchalant shrug as you lean against the countertop in the dimly lit dive bar. “Some people just say ‘I’ve missed you’, y’know.” 

“Oh, so you miss me? S’that why you showed up with pretty boy?” He cocks a brow as he sidles up beside you, cheating his body towards you as he rests an elbow on the bar. 

He’d seen you walk in Keigo and he’d also just outed himself, because no sooner than the blonde had left your side did Touya seize the opportunity to say hello to you. He mentally kicks himself from slipping so soon into your interaction.

He leans in a little closer and the aroma of his aquatic cologne mingling with the ever present scent of smoke hits your nostrils. He smells like a bonfire on the beach and it catapults you back into the memory of the last morning that you’d spent together. Tangled up in the sheets, limbs intertwined while your noses brushed against one another’s. The taste of cigarettes on your tongue, despite the fact that you don’t smoke. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you bought a pack just to burn one whenever you miss him a little too much. 

“Why? You jealous?”

“M’sure you’d love it if I was,” he says as he turns toward the approaching bartender to order himself a whiskey. He orders you your usual. 

“If,” you scoff once the bartender busies himself with fixing your drinks. He hates the way you threaten to cut through his entire facade with a single syllable. 

“Didn’t miss your fucking attitude, that’s for sure,” he mutters, but there’s no truth to his words.

He’s missed you. He’s always missing you. Constantly. It’s exhausting, actually. He’s well aware that he has a tendency to obsess over things, to fixate, and you’re no exception.

He’s only at this bar, because he knows that it’s your favorite. He was so used to attending exclusive nightclubs, posting up in the VIP section to party to his heart’s content, which was fun in the beginning of his career. He loved the attention that it brought him, but eventually the charm wore off and he realized that most of the people around him were after something. 

Not here though. He was just looking to get a drink without having to entertain anyone. He wanted to unwind and take his mind off things, so he happened into this place. Strolled up to the bar the two of you are posted up at right now and there he found you. The only thing worth thinking about from that point forward. 

You and your gentle touch. You and your kind words. You and your concern for his well being. You and your Godforsaken love for him. He can still feel it too. It’s practically radiating off of you, even through your veil of sarcasm; he’s practically drowning in it and he’s ready to take a deep, deep breath. 

But he doesn’t. He’d rather suffocate like a fish on dry land when the ocean is right there, waves outstretching over and over again, offering assistance to see him home where he could finally breathe again. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Bullshit,” you laugh and the sound is genuine. It makes his heart skip a beat and he knows that he’s helpless now. 

“What do you mean, bullshit?” He quirks his brow, narrowing his eyes and offering you the slightest hint of a smile. 

“You miss my attitude,” you state plainly, shrugging as you accept your drink from the bartender with a polite thank you before you turn to look at Touya. “It’s the only one that can keep up with yours.”

The tension finally breaks. It doesn’t shatter, but there’s an obvious crack in it. Enough to relieve some of the pressure that’s so violently palpable between you. You focus back on your drink, taking a generous sip as you start to study the few other bar patrons here tonight. 

“Ya got me there,” he chuckles, looking down at his designer combat boots as his smile grows and turns a touch wistful. 

He quiet for a moment, fingers tapping against the glass of whiskey on the bar. He studies the amber liquid until he can’t fight it any longer and he reluctantly fixes his gaze on you. His eyes slowly travel along your frame, pulse quickening when he finally gets a good look at the way the stark white dress that you’re wearing suits your body. You look perfect. Hair done and makeup perfect. He’d still think the same if you were sitting here in sweats, barefaced. You were always perfect in his eyes. 

“What?” You ask as you peek over at him, innocent as ever. 

“I miss you like hell.”

Your eyes meet and everything seems to slow down for a moment. You study his features, your gaze briefly flitting to his lips that you wish you could just lean in and taste again, but you told yourself that you had to quit him. It isn’t healthy to keep doing this same old song and dance. Even if it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive these days. 

“We can’t keep this up, Touya,” you whisper, meeting his eyes again to see the same sense of longing you feel reflected in his own.

“One more time.”

It’s a plea. He’s desperate, holding his breath and praying to a God that he’s never believed in that you won’t turn him away. 

“We always say that.”

“And one day we might mean it, so c’mon. We can’t hurt each other more than we already have.”

“You’re underestimating us.”

“You’re avoiding this,” he counters. “Because you don’t wanna say no.”

And he’s right. You don’t want to. You can’t. 

“Ya got me there,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden. Despite everything that you’ve been through together, which has definitely involved hell and high water, there’s always an invigorating sense of newness and novelty with Touya. A fire that you can’t put out. 

He grins, nodding towards the back wall of the bar before he tips his glass back to swallow his drink in one gulp. You fight the smile on your lips, taking one last sip of your own before you abandon it in favor of following a few paces behind him towards the men’s restroom. 

He slips inside and you wait nearby for a beat until he just barely kicks the door open to signal that the coast is clear. With a quick glance around, you’re assured that no one’s paying you any mind, so you slip inside and are immediately welcomed into his arms.

“You didn’t say it back,” he points out, pressing you against the counter as his hands slide from your waist down to the hem of your dress. 

“You didn’t lock the door.”

He huffs a laugh and steps away to twist the lock on the bathroom door, sauntering back towards you to seize your waist again. 

“Satisfied?”

“Never.”

“Smartass,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he leans in to capture your lips, silencing whatever remark you had brewing. 

Both of you had tried to put distance between yourselves, in vain, clearly. None of that mattered now. All that seemed to matter was getting closer. Your arms wind around his neck, hand cradling the back of his head, so that you can kiss him more deeply. His tongue parts your lips, begging to explore your mouth while his hands slip beneath your dress. He wastes no time in finding what he’s really after. His index fingers hooks into the crotch of your panties, tugging them aside to slip his middle finger between your folds as he pulls a moan from your throat.

“This wet for me already? So you have missed me, huh, doll?” He smirks, teasing your slick entrance as he pulls back to look at you before he starts peppering kisses along your jaw. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you murmur, shifting your hips forward in search of friction, which he grants you in the form of his thumb gently circling your clit. You rest your hands on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady. 

“Don’t hafta. You’re the one doin’ that,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and sensuous. “Keep it up, baby. You know I like hearing the sounds you make for me.”

He doesn’t give you much of a choice when his lips find the skin of your neck. The tip of his tongue slides over your pulse before he nips at it with his teeth, making you gush a little around his finger when he effortlessly slips one inside of you. 

“Touya,” you moan, already too pliable in his capable hands. “We don’t have a lotta time.”

It’s an unfortunate truth that he can’t argue with. He wants nothing more than to make this last, but he’ll always take what he can get as far as you’re concerned. 

“I know,” he grumbles and you swear you can see a pout on his lips for the briefest of seconds as he cups your jaw. 

He kisses you like he means it. It’s not searing, but it’s comfortably warm. His soft lips move against yours again and again, slow and deliberate. He savors every second that he’s able to taste you and he uses each one to try and tell you without words just exactly how much he’s been missing you. 

“Guess we oughta do this efficiently then, yeah?” 

The signature smirk is back when he pulls away and you hardly have time to process before he’s spinning you around to face the dingy mirror in front of you. He guides your hands to the counter as the bulge in his already tight jeans prods at your ass. 

“Just shut up at fuck me already,” you beg impatiently, too wound up to deal with any more banter while your cunt was still empty. 

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with amusement as he looks at you through the mirror and pulls his cock from his pants. Long, pierced, and swollen with need. 

“I love it when you boss me around,” he rasps as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, quickly gathering your slick on his length before he sinks himself inside of you with a sinful groan that he doesn’t bother stifling. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, sighing with relief as he fills you. 

Your eyes fall closed and you hang your head while he slowly starts shifting his hips, dragging his cock back and forth along your walls to inch himself deeper with each pass. 

“You feel so good, doll. Shit.”

His head lolls back and he loses himself for a time, too distracted by the feeling of you finally being wrapped around him again to focus on anything else. 

You eventually pick your head up to look at him through the mirror, your moans echoing off of the glass. He meets your gaze a moment later and neither of you dare look away from one another as he starts thrusting harder and faster. 

“Fucking missed your cock, Touya. Missed it so fucking much,” you whimper, clutching to countertop as tears start to well in your eyes, because it truly just felt that good. 

“Don’t cry, doll. You’re gonna ruin your makeup and we can’t have that,” he says with an edge of condescension in his voice. “I gotta send you back to pretty boy in good condition.”

He looks down to watch where your bodies are joined, never missing a beat as he continues drilling himself into you. 

“M’not w-with him,” you feel the need to clarify while you can still form words.

“But you came here with him. Could have any man you wanted and yet you show up here with a friend of mine. M’not stupid, doll,” he pants, gradually slowly his pace as he finds your eyes in the mirror yet again. “And neither are you.”

“Touya—,”

“Ssh,” he hushes you, pulling out to grab onto your waist and spin you around. “I don’t give a fuck about who you’re here with.”

You gaze at him, allowing him to walk you backwards towards the wall that he pins you to. He lumbers over you, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt it back, so that his eyes can bore down into yours, allowing you to see the unadulterated desperation in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you just say it back?” He asks quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I know you miss me, doll. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, right?”

You don’t know what to say. Of all the times that the two of you had slipped and ended up like this, neither one of you had ever let your guard down so completely. 

He’s impatient and painfully aware that all of his insecurities were bubbling up to the surface, so he changes course again, throwing the two of you right back to where you were. 

“You said you missed this, yeah?” 

He grabs your thigh to hitch it up onto his hip and palms his erection, slowly sliding it into your core again and breathing a little easier when it still tears a moan from your lungs. The tension lessens once you’re connected again, but it doesn’t dissolve and he thinks the only solution is proximity. 

“Up,” he instructs as he slides his hand behind your other thigh. 

You comply and jump high enough to let him catch you and hoist you up, your back flush to the wall as he starts rocking his hips again, slowly pistoning his cock in and out of you. 

“I missed you,” you admit breathlessly, draping your arms around his neck and holding him close. “I always miss you.”

Hearing those words brings him some relief and it shows on his face, but he realizes then that just that alone  isn’t what he really needs. He needs more and you know that already, because you need it too. 

“Say it. Please. Please just fucking say it. I need you to,” he outright begs, too lost in the moment to care about the fallout that might occur after the fact. 

“I love you, Touya. I love you so much,” you confess, feeling an immense weight slide off of your shoulders. 

“I love you too, doll,” he replies without a second thought, sighing with relief as he picks up the pace again, spurred on by your reassurance. 

“Fuck! Touya, baby,” you whine, clutching to him as he starts hitting an angle that makes your eyes roll back inside your head. “B-baby, m’gonna cum. M’so close. So fucking close—ahh!”

“Cum for me, doll. Cum right on my fuckin’—oh fuck yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good girl f’me,” he praises you through grit teeth, feeling his own end rocketing towards him as he fucks you through your own. “Such a tight fucking pussy. Gonna make you all mine again. All fucking mine.”

The cacophony of noises that ensue as both of you enter nirvana is likely enough to alert anyone standing too close to the bathroom, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in the glorious feeling of being reunited once again. Hearts thumping. Bodies pulsing. Adrenaline running high. It almost feels like flying.

It isn’t until you start to recover from your orgasm that you realize what goes up, must come down. And reality was likely to hit both of you once you walked back out that door. 

He seems to have the same sad epiphany as his breathing even out. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, refusing to let you go just yet, even if it was just prolonging the inevitable. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” you echo your words from earlier in a remorseful whisper, closing your eyes as you knit your fingers into his hair and cradle his head. 

“I know,” is all he says. 

He feels empty all of a sudden and he hates it. He doesn’t want to let you go. What if this really was the last time?

“But I don’t wanna stop,” you add more quietly. 

His lips curl into a barely there smile against your skin and he presses a kiss to your pulse. 

“I don’t either.”

Not two minutes later, you stroll out of the bathroom. Thankfully, no one seems to notice, but you do see Keigo across the room searching for you. 

Touya steps out of the bathroom to see you joining the blonde at his side. He watches you take a seat beside him at a table and sip on the drink he’d ordered you as his arm slips around your waist. 

He’d love nothing more than to tear his friend’s arm off at the moment, but he plays it cool, pretending like he’d just happened into the bar as he approaches the table. 

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” He asks coolly, standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he surveys the two of you. 

“Oh, hey. Didn’t think we’d see you here,” Keigo says as he looks up, his arms subconsciously tightening around your waist. 

You smile up at Touya, having fully prepared yourself to put on this dumb little act, but your expression falters when you see a scantily clad blonde step to his side and practically throw herself onto him. 

“Hey, Dabi,” she says in a sing song voice that makes you want to hurl. 

He doesn’t look thrilled to see her, but he slips an arm around her anyway. 

“I see you’re busy,” you say as you lift your eyes to his face. “It was nice to see you, Touya. We should catch up soon.”

The woman on his arm must recognize you as his ex, because she slips her hand through his and starts not-so-subtly tugging him towards the bar. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s let them get back to their date,” she says, shooting you a judgemental look that you know you could wipe straight off of her face, but you don’t. 

“We were just leaving, actually,” you explain as you slip out of the booth and Keigo follows. “But I’ll see you around, Touya?”

Your tone is sweet and he understands that there’s more meaning behind your question than either of your respective dates would pick up on. He flashes you a knowing grin and nods. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you around. Take care, doll. Keigo,” he nods to him as well before he walks off towards the bar with the now disgruntled blonde still attached to him like a leech. 

When you finally get back home that evening, alone and grateful for it, you plop down on your sofa to kick off your shoes, feeling the effects of the alcohol you’d downed at the next bar you’d ended up at. 

You sink back into the cushions and sigh, staring at the wall as you consider whether or not you’re drunk enough to text him before you realize that you’d do it sober, so who the fuck cares? 

You grab your phone and it buzzes the second that it touches your hand. The preview shows that it’s from Touya. 

I can’t wait any longer. I know we can’t do this shit anymore, but I don’t wanna play any more games. I want this. I want you. Always. Not just sometimes. 

He sends another. 

Can I come over?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, thumbs hovering over the keyboard while you read his message over and over and over again. 

Finally, you take a deep breath and punch in your response. 

Took you long enough. I’ll be waiting 💕

thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are always very much appreciated 💕

[miramilocamimira]

I couldnt stop thinking about how I ended this so, long title warning, and go!

Prompt turned ficlet part 2:

Why now?

Poseidon might, you know what, no. He will kill his brother at this rate. The moron stands before them all, clearly out of it, and proceeds to award the demigods. The part where Zeus thanked him for his help was nice but he also saw the slight stumble when his brother appeared.

He knows it's not just in his head. Apollo has been staring at the sky king just as intensely. His nephew keeps glancing from his father’s face to the leg. To which, if their resident healer is concerned- maybe the situation is serious.

Maybe it's because he’s been staring but he can see Zeus is favoring his right leg. He figures it must be his brother’s pride getting in the way.

He tries his best not to storm over when Zeus calls forth his son. Poseidon knows his brother won't do anything to Percy- at least not when he owes them both. Zeus was a very good actor, it appears, as he speaks of granting godhood.

No one else noticed him flinch as he moved his leg.

His brother would freak out if he made a scene here. Not that the younger wasn't nervous already. The sky god kept glimpsing at him. Good. Maybe if Zeus thinks he's angry he’ll wrap this up and stop aggravating the wound he just had stitched.

His attention gets switched when he hears Percy decline godhood. Worry and Grief flood his gut as his son chooses to give up the offer for others. His son will die; by his own choice.

He will have to make piece with it. Just as it was with Sally’s choice, he will not force Percy. Poseidon closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

As soon as the demigods have left, he’s going to drag Zeus off to rest whether the fool wants it or not.

——————

Typically, with celebrations, the party-goers are in a good mood. Both Poseidon and Zeus, however, have not. Hades may not have had the best relationship with them but even he can tell something isn't right.

The sea god has been glaring at their youngest brother since he appeared. From his understanding, they had defeated Typheous. Again, typically, he's known them to be ecstatic after winning.

Yet Zeus‘ eyes dart from Poseidon to the door. Perhaps he had said something out of line and now feels guilty? Even so, his brother would have fessed up about it and they'd both be angry.

Not whatever this was.

Once the demigods are gone, Hades watches as Zeus excuses himself and walks out as quickly as he can. Poseidon already following, he notices Zeus add weight onto the frame of the doorway.

Zeus was hurt.

He lets his wife know that he'll be back and trails after the duo. He stays back a bit and as Poseidon gets closer to their brother he gets louder.

“I told you to come to me!” The sea god hisses and moves closer to the younger’s right. Zeus keeps walking, ignoring the elder’s attempts to assist him. “What in Tartarus possessed you to do this?”

“Go away, Poseidon.”

“Go away? Go away?” Poseidon splutters, once again trying to help. He gets rejected again. “Gods damn it, Zeus if you don't let me help you; I will carry you.”

Zeus spins around and ends up bracing himself on one of the ruined pillars from the battle. Hades can make out red eyes and a range of emotions on his brother’s face. Anger, shame, sorrow, all on display.

“Why does it matter? Why now!?” Zeus cries. “It didn't matter then! It doesn't matter now!”

Poseidon is quiet.

“What do you mean by it doesn't matter?” The sea king is not loud but his voice carries. “Typheous ripped out your tendons- he basically told you that you couldn't trust us and ripped them out of you. Your son had to sew them back up.”

Typheous had what?

Hades can hear the rage boiling underneath the words Poseidon speaks. The winds around them gather and Zeus flinches. Shies away from… from the storm brewing. “The worst part of it, Zeus? The worst part is that you believed him. You could have died thinking that we… that I wouldn't fight to save you.”

There's a pit gnawing at Hades as he listens in. A part of him wishes to leave and let this moment slip from his mind. His brother's words, though, keep him frozen in place.

Zeus is shaking and he does not answer. Instead, the youngest of them goes to move- and Poseidon grabs him quickly before he can fall. Hades hears him curse and mutter something about a second time.

“I told you to let me help. I didn't leave you with Apollo that long ago and you've been putting pressure on that leg this entire time.”

“Why can't you just leave?” The pain in Zeus’ voice hurts. Poseidon hugs the younger close

“I made that mistake last time, Zeus. Remember, ‘I promise to go straight to you once I'm sewed up,’ and then having never done so?” Zeus makes an odd sound and the winds calm.

“Typheous wouldn't have killed me, by the way. He vowed to kill all of you in front of me before he’d do so.” Zeus decides to say when Poseidon starts to carefully pick him up. “He would have just chained me and consumed my flesh until then.”

“You… you do get how that’s worse, right?” Poseidon's voice breaks a bit but he sounds as horrified as Hades feels. Zeus says he does know.

Hades doesn't move even as Zeus starts directing Poseidon to his room. His brother have long since disappeared when Persephone arrives, worry apparent. He doesn't know if he should tell her what he heard or if he should wait.

“Dear, I think I'm ready to go home.” He says. He knows she notices somethings wrong. She merely nods and agrees, choosing instead to comment on how dreadful conversing with her half-siblings was.

[derangedanomaly]

EMERY IS HEREEEE

This is the friendliest entity, The Child Entity, She doesn't have a menacing title, but don't be fooled, once you get to know her.. yea she has so many forms. Once in her past life, she had abusive parents that is everyday drunk, because of their children, Her mom thinks her father cheated on her so she became abusive, the father didn't show up however. Somewhat dead. Emery did have a sister named Kayla, Kayla was the only one caring, Unfortunately, She had died due to her heart and eyes ripped out. Poor emery had to go through this, she had to live in her friends house, which did not go well.

Which means her being missing in reality for..20 YEARS.

She was taken my ember, who surprisedly took good care of emery, Still, She has a phase two form, but it is also unknown.

That bow was gifted by her sister, to remember her Incase she had died.

Twist -- She has the power to somehow.. overwrite, OP child I could say, That power comes from the three entites. Also she made a good bond with dust. Making them close friends everytime they see each other.

She had created a virus (black tree virus mlp horror btw!)

That virus contains in her room, in many syringes, she used it against pearl.

And trust me, that virus is PAINFUL. that couldnt go away for hours, days or even months.

And she's five years old, THAT IS A MURDEROUS CHILD WITH OVERWRITE-

anyways. Hope ya like her! I will do emliy or pearl next.

ANOTHER OC❗️

[deliciouspirateangel]

degrassi for the tv show ask 🥰 and if you want since it's not on the list - game of thrones? (although sansa is ofc the only character that counts 😇)

Yay thank you! I'll do both but it's gonna be so uneven lol. Like there's a million Degrassi things worth mentioning and also my GOT knowledge is so fuzzy so... not gonna be much there lmao. But whatever Degrassi is the superior show anyway, duh

Degrassi -

favorite male character: Jay, Tristan, Eli, Miles, Marco, Zig, Jimmy, Drew, Tiny, Connor, Dallas... So many (mostly) good boys

favorite female character: Manny, Alli, Alex, Bianca, Clare for the drama lol, Maya, Fiona, Imogen, Zoe, Jenna, Holly J, Jane, Liberty... That's enough lol

least favorite character: So so so many. Dave, KC, Esme, Frankie, Lola, Ellie, KATIE, Dylan. Then like anyone who should be in jail like Peter, Derek, Hunter, Luke (who was in jail yay) and any adult that had a relationship with one of the students

prettiest character: Manny! Alli also. And Alex until she got that nose job lol

funniest character: So hard to focus on comedy when so much of this show makes me miserable alskfjslks. JT is an obvious one. Moe. Also Jake when he started smoking pot asjsalkfs. A lot of them make me laugh but not for reasons I should be laughing lmao

favorite season: Hmm that's a hard one. Probably like 9-13?? The Clare era. But there's honestly something happening all the time like there's hardly a dull moment. Except all of Next Class, no one needs to see that

favorite episode: Again I just binge this show so much that it all runs together and I don't really remember episode titles lol. For some serious episodes, Rick shooting up the school, and then the one dealing with the aftermath of Cam's suicide. For some fun ones, Degrassi Goes Hollywood (mainly the Manny plot) (even tho that also makes me cry), the bottle ep that's an homage to the Breakfast Club, and the Vegas Night ep is ridiculously iconic

favorite romantic ship: JANNY. I knew they got together before they did and I was literally like "nope sorry im never gonna ship this" well. Here we are. Also love Fiona/Imogen, Alli/Dallas, Connor/Jenna, Tristan/Miles, Drew/Bianca, and Eli/Clare, bc they were so dramatic you have to love them

favorite family ship: Again I hate all these awful awful parents so no one there. Maybeee Adam and Drew? Aww and Dallas and Rocky, and Mia and Isabella <3

favorite friend ship: Fiona and Eli, JT and Toby, Alex and Jay, Adam with Eli and Clare, Tristan with Maya and Zoe

worst ship: Any adult dating a teenager, obviously. All the actual abusive ones (which includes Zig and Esme [put him in the hospital], Jenna and KC [criminal negligence], and Drew and Katie [rapist]). Frankie and anyone, Peter and anyone, Ellie and anyone alskjfslkfs. Miles and Lola, Alli and Dave, I could be here forever talking about this so I'll stop <3

GOT -

favorite male character: Hodor. And Sam, Sam was nice. Aaand Grey Worm ig

favorite female character: SANSA STARK QUEEN OF THE NORTH BABYYY. I also like Margaery, Brienne, Olenna, Catelyn, Shae, and Missandei

least favorite character: Daenerys Flopgaryen. And like all the obvious ones - Joffrey, Ramsay, Petey, whoever. At least they were good villains lol

prettiest character: All the ladies I listed above <3

funniest character: Umm Olenna?? She had all those sick burns lol

favorite season: literally couldnt even tell you

favorite episode: the one where joffrey dies is pretty fun. and the red wedding. uhh the battle of the bastards? that was a good battle i think

favorite romantic ship: Sansa and me <3 i really couldnt tell you this either lmao idk

favorite family ship: the tyrell family? rip

favorite friend ship: sansa and margaery

worst ship: all of them tbh. special shout out to dany x khal and dany x jon bc people actually like those lol

send me a show!

[mirtifero]

I actually want to talk about a short story book plan I had back on around 2020(?) and that I'm slowly coming back to.

I cant remember if it was around 2020 or 2021 or if it started in 2019, but I remember being in front of a computer while thinking about it, so idk. Maybe 2020.

Cus I remember being influenced by senmu's work by the time? And some of these seem to have some ressemblance.

I remember stopping writing them because they started making me feel ill to my stomach. Maybe you'll see why. The scenes of each story were too personal and were wounds that hurt too much for me to handle at the time.

Now I see them with a bit of fondness.

The stories are going to be written in portuguese tho, ahahah. Not here! Here you'll have short summaries.

Warnings for each story summary on the improvised name for each of them

Dream Boy (abuse, murder, suicide)

This one is quite simple. A man in a big city has developed major depression due to loneliness and is struggling in a small friend group he made of horrible people. These "friends" basically just use him for his (broke) wallet or to beat him up or harrass him. Due to that, he slowly starts to make a fictional person inside his head to be his best friend. He eventually actually develops feelings for this fictional boy, and starts going slowly but surely mad. His life is a mess, he is constantly almost getting evicted, he locked his university course and his friends suck. That dream person is the only person he has. He eventually has a breakdown and kills his "friends" and ends up getting arrested. He commits suicide shortly after to reunite with his beloved.

Girl best friends (abuse, suicide, murder, homophobia)

This one's very short and simple. Two girls are best friends in a very conservative town, and one starts developing feelings for the other one. Let's call them 1 and 2. One day, they are having a sleep over, and 2, who knows about 1's feelings for her, starts whispering sweet poison to her. 1 gets flustered and asks what she's talking about, receiving a confused look from 2. Basically things like that happen for a while, 2's whispers developing from sweet nothings to... something weirder. 2 starts to talk about death and wanting to kill hersef when they graduate highschool, which was some months from then. Slowly 2 also starts suggesting for a double suicide. 1 is scared, but 2 keeps pushing and pushing for her to do it. On graduation day, they go to the roof together, and 1 once again hesitates, but 2 looks at her and tell her she loves her so so much and that she can't wait to die together with her. 1 sits on the edge and breathes but chickens away, making 2 angry. 2 pushes 1 down the building. 1 looks up while falling, realising 2 was not jumping. 2 had tricked her. She never wanted to die. She wanted 1 dead.

Three friends (cannibalism, animal death)

This one. Changed a lot. Originally it was about a starving girl, her dogs and a mysterious kind stranger. The stranger gave her food and she was forever grateful. Slowly though, her dogs start missing. Her meals are her only source of comfort. One day, instead of a full meal, the stranger appears and shows her one of her dead dogs. Rips it apart and feeds it to her. She had been feeding the girl on human and dog meat all along.

Now, there's only 2 people in that story (which I took some liberties to change from its actual original, since silly me doesn't remember much besides dogs and cannibalism), so why the 3 title? Thats because for a good while I changed it. It is the time loop yuri story I talked about. With the same characters and similar ideas, a girl was trapped in a time loop where her two friends kept killing each other and grotesquely mutilating and eating themselves, and how it kept getting worse because the girl started actually making things worse HERSELF.

But I ended up... not liking it? I don't know, my original ideas were feeling based only, I couldnt seem to make a plot out of it. It's a nice idea, but not for them. I won't scrap it, just like what happened to Henry (hence why there's two of them), but the murder besties will stay on the shelf for a while.

Yes I will write the dog eating story instead. Lol.

That's honestly it? Like, it's three stories I made at a very low point of my life, and based off emotions I couldn't seem to explain at the time. Now I understand them better and wish to explore it on these stories I made at my lowest.

Sharing here because... maybe someone here likes grotesque stuff? Haha. Well. Hoped you who read this liked it!

[sleepnavigator]

im so tired of new streaming services popping up every week im not going to pay for 20 different services just because they have one (1!!) show i like each. the fuck.

[bloodycassian]

LEATHERBOUND - Reader x Cassian - (I think I missed this request but I think someone req’d something similar) Reader is a librarian in Illyria when Cassian comes in asking for help finding something.

Cassian's favorite time of year in Illyria was the winter days where the sun was out. The winds were harsh enough to stun his wings, but the rays from the sun were warm enough for a perfect contrast. Not letting him freeze, but not letting him get too hot either. 

The muddiness also became packed ice instead of the mess it had been over the summer. It was still messy in the more trafficked areas, but not nearly as bad. He couldn't hide the joy that rept into his heart at the sight of so many Illyrians taking joy in the season. Small winged children threw snowballs at passerbys from a ledge. A broad winged male scared them off with a flyover. Cassian entered the small shop, the smell of dust and worn carpet whirled around him. It was comforting in a strange way. It reminded him of being a child. Innocent and curiously exploring different shops at his home.

The bell above rang in a dull tone. He looked up and saw the shotty repair job on the ringer. Not exactly as it had been when he was a child, it seemed. "Stay right there!" You called from the back, putting away the stack of books you held. They clattered into the bin loudly. The sound of rustling made him curious.

"I'm just here for-" He called, starting to step further into the room. The books lined the short walls, and the stacks in the middle looked percaiously stacked. They were organized, but the bottom of the stack seemed stained. He doubted the resources for another bookcase were available. 

"I know, just dont move. I just cleaned the carpet." You brought a towel from the front desk over and placed it beside the small outcropping of hard wood you had laid out for anyone first entering the store. "This is the last building in Illyria with carpets. I'd like to keep it that way." You said when the dark haired male gave you a pinched look. He bent and began taking off his boots. Boots that looked far too new for the likes of an Illyrian. 

Watching him do so, you noticed the two Siphons on his hands. Then the one on his knee. Your head went fuzzy. What had you done to deserve a visit from the Lord of Bloodshed? He noticed your stare and gave you a wolfish smile. You didn't flinch away from it. The wind howled at the gaps in the stone, and you cleared your throat.

"So what do you need?" You asked, crossing your hands behind your back. Ready to be of service. Hopefully he wouldn't demand too much of your small store.

"You said you knew. So you tell me." He said with a sly smile. You stammered, sweat slicking your palms. "I didnt mean- We have several ah..." You looked away, at the different categories of spellbooks and history of Prythian. Shame fell in your gut at the bottom layers of books that made the stack in the middle of the room.

"I'm looking for a cookbook. One with Illyrian recipes." He stepped to the carpet, his dark socks immaculate against the worn pattern. 

"Is the high lord a fan of home made treats?" You laughed at the odd request. Then covered your mouth, the embarrassment turned your ears red. "I'm sorry-" "No, its fine." Cassian chuckled, pulling a book off a shelf. It was of the first war, and was bound in dark leather. "He does. But the book isn't for him. The high ladies sister, actually." 

The one of hellfire and stone or the one that seemed to be a ghost? You dared not question him. "A solstice gift?" You asked, showing him over to the small cooking section you had obtained over centuries. They weren't of much use in Illyria, but the few travelers found them fascinating. 

"Yes, she's had a rough year." His voice was somber, but the hope still lingered in his eyes.

You let the words sink in. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, his presence was warm and welcoming, actually. As if he was putting off a vibe of 'I'm safe.' You handed him a complete cookbook full of basic recipes and baking. The cover was so worn the title was unreadable. Dark spots stained the inner pages, you knew because you'd borrowed the book several times. "We all have." He flicked through it for a moment, smiling. His teeth were immaculate, and a bit extra pointy on his canines. The sight of them sent a thrill through you.

"I recommend the sweet dough. It's spice free, the only thing you need for it is pine needles and sap." You flicked the pages to one you had bookmarked. The opposite side was full of different types of cakes to make with minimal ingredients. 

"I'm too familiar with it." He laughed, shaking his head. Some fond memories from long ago lingered there. He could recall the scent of the bread with full accuracy. The way it the needles would char on top of the dough if there were too many. 

"How much do I owe you?" He pinned the leather under his arm and pulled a satchel from his pocket. Your heart raced at the glimpse of so many gold coins there. 

"Ah- it'll be Twenty silvers." You said, embarrassment coating your tongue. He didnt even look like he was carrying and silver. He eyed you speculatively. "Twenty silvers for a full book?" He asked. You nodded, trying not to wring your hands. He fished a gold coin from the pouch and held it out to you. "Let me get you some change... it may take a second." You fumbled to the desk where you kept your coin inside a spellbound box. 

"Dont worry about it. I'll be back another time." He called, setting the book on the floor to pull on his shoes. "Lord Cas-" You began to protest.

"Just Cassian." He corrected, grunting as he pulled on the boots. "Call it a tab." He winked and eyed the ripped, hole filled curtains of the front window. How they swayed in the breeze that drifted in from the rocks. 

"I'll be seeing you." His eyes scanned you, and you nodded. "Be seeing you." You said back, your mouth dry. He was intimidating in the ways you'd never thought of. Not in a scary way, but in a sly way that made your heart race. The bell over his head dinged hollowly as he exited, shoving the book into his backpack. You tried not to stare as he left. 

+ The Solstice party was a success as it normally was. Nesta kept to herself in the corner with Amren while everyone else exchanged gifts. Elain's eyes lit up at the book, and she hugged Cassian with heart. "I'll be making you something tomorrow." She promised. Cassian felt the flicker of cold over him and shot Az a look. They glowered at one another. 

Rhys leveled a look at both of them that got them to straighten up. Feyre handed out mugs of hot cider. Mor brought around a bottle of liquor to mix with it. The night was warm with friends and joy. Besides the cold corner where Nesta sat. Cassian did his best to ignore it. As did everyone else. 

He was nearly the last to leave. The cider had effected him more than he thought. But it warmed his insides against the cold wind of Velaris. He wrapped his wings around himself to shield from the cold. He thought of the librarian who had given him the book. His mind drifted to the rest of that day, how Devlon had even seemed cheerful. 

He wondered if you were doing anything, if you had any family celebrating with you. If you had a mate that spoiled you. His heart kicked up at the thought of it. He hadn't noticed a ring...or any tattoos to signify a mating bond. He couldn't recall much else. He had been stunned by the beauty and simplicity of you and your shop. He couldnt remember if you had wings. 

The frustration ate at him. He had to know more. He needed to know if you had a good solstice. He made a plan. "It would be good karma" He told himself, entering one of the several shops on the way to the townhome. His excitement made it nearly impossible to sleep that night. + "Happy solstice." A voice called from the front door. You hadn't heard the bell chime. 

You rushed to the front, making sure that the carpet hadn't been ruined. The curtains whipped from the wind outside. The enormous Illyrian shut the door with a firm gentleness that made your heart race. His hands wrapped around a small wooden box. Well, it was small in his hands. 

"It's the day after solstice. Happy late solstice." You corrected, striding over to him and giving him a look about the shoes. They looked incredibly clean. "You still need to take them off." 

"I know. You need to open this first." He forced the box upon you and stooped to begin unlacing the boots.  "What-"

"Just open it." He stood and followed you to the counter. Heat flooded your cheeks, you hadn't gotten him anything. Not that you could afford it, or even knew what he would want. "Why did you get this?" You asked, trying to hide the tension in your voice.

"So you dont have to cook that sweetbread again." He said with a grin, staring at you. At how your hands delicately removed the lid from the box. Then at your stunned reaction at the waft of spices that spilled from the box. "Cassian-" You breathed, utterly speechless. 

"I have a request too...So you can't say its too much. It's for me too." He went to the shelf where he'd gotten the cookbook for Elain. "Make us these, and we'll call it even."

"Cassian... I'm not a cook. I dont bake." You laughed when he pointed at the spice cakes in the book. "Maybe ask the sister-" You pushed the box toward him, the heaviness of it screamed 'expensive' to you. Guilt marred the joy of receiving the gift.

He pushed it firmly back to you, locking eyes. He noted the way you tensed at that stare. He eased, trying to ignore the scent mixing with the smell of leather and spice. "I want you to make it, using these." He patted the top of the box. 

You debated with yourself. The male carried around more gold than you'd ever seen. And he wasn't worried about it. You figured if it was a gift then he genuinely wanted you to have it. You sighed and took the box, placing it under the shelf beside your bag. Your wings pinched at the movement. 

You ignored how his eyes lingered on your scarred members. You were used to it from some males, but never one as important and high ranking as him. He shook himself and refocused, pulling himself out of the rage he was feeling at the sight of your ruined wings. 

"Any other requests?" You sighed, feigning annoyance. His toothy grin made your stomach do flips. 

[jayflrt]

enha always makes good songs short as hell😭 hmm there are some parts im feeling more than others but omg they look so good i couldnt take my eyes off jungwon😭manifesting sunsunwon pulls for my albums🙏gonna go listen to the rest,also i was hoping more of the stuff from the concept vids would be in the vid but its still cool WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE FIGURES IN THE WINDOW

RIP FORESHADOW MY BELOVED YOU DESERVED BETTER 😞 maybe if we grieve enough they’ll release a full version <3 and yes i agree w that actually bc some parts of the mv caught my eye more than others :o it def wasn’t my favorite title track of theirs but it’s so my vibe 💀

I HOPE YOU GET SUNSUNWON 💖💖 and send me your pulls when they arrive >:))) i think my albums are coming towards the end of july and beginning of august sobsob but i’m hoping for jaywonhoon(??) is that even what they call the three of them idk 😵‍💫 and YEAH omg i thought there would be more parts(??) of the music video like i feel like they only had two different styles(?) does that even make sense LOLLL

also i literally thought those things were dementors and i was scared for my life when jay jumped at them 😭 JUNGWON MESSED W TIME AND IT DID NOTHING??? I WAS CONFUSED hermione granger flop era ig

[kornito]

SOURCE: https://korngiant.tripod.com/kornisgoodforu/id10.html

Dead

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

All I want in life is to be happy", it's that simple. People say that it's become their own anthem. It's like whenever I start to feel good, something comes and takes it away and I feel like I'm nothing again, like I'm dead.

Falling Away From Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The song is about domestic abuse and that there ways to get help whether it's telling someone or calling a help line, there are ways to get out of those situations. Noone has to be treated like that.

Trash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Trash" is about how I threw my world and everything out. I threw her away. I threw my old self away. It basically comes back down to the sex thing. The battles I did on the road, this whole album is what I went through because I was on the road and I went crazy.

Beg for Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Beg For Me" is more of an angry thing because the whole thing for "Beg For Me" is the crowd. The only time I was good on tour was when I walked up onstage and that's what the song is about. Feeling wanted is something one thing I've always needed. I was shuffled around so much when I was a kid...Being up onstage was the only point was the only time when my anxiety would go away for an hour.

Make Me Bad

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

I need to feel the sickness in you" ... It's spawned from f**kin', basically, from having sex. That's where that line comes from, but it means a whole bunch of things to me. "Make Me Bad" was about the battles I had being on the road, being married and being with other women. I'm not married anymore... beause of my lifestlyle, and I just couldnt do that to my wife anymore. So that ended. But does it make me bad that I have a dick and I have f**ken other feelings to be with other people? Why should I be with just one? It seems like human beings are genetically engineered to procreate. Thats what we do, f**k everything, and that's what our natural insides want to do. It is hard to find someone like that. But she was a good woman and I didnt want to keep on... I did the right thing, I was a man about it. It was better for me to tell her and let her go on with her life and find someone who could help her and be like that. So that song was spawned by that, does it make me bad to want to be with other women? In a sence it was my only drug, why... because I dont drink anymore, I cant drink. I've been sober for a year. I dont have any other vices. So at least doing that could be something.

Hey Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Hey Daddy" where I was schizophrenic and there were these voices telling me to do sh*t... To kill myself, basically. Daddy is one of my nicknames, so its like I'm talking to myself the whole time. It's hard to explain.

Dirty

Song Meaning: Jonathan

"I feel like a fucking whore to record companies." "You know how it is...the way we are used and marketed." "How they make all the money off us and we don't make shit!" "The only way we make money is to go out on tour and sell merchandise" "Basiclly we write all the music and turn in and they make all the money." "So I feel like that and also I feel like a slut cuz I'd go out at night and fucking girls and so I said fuck it, I'm going to do it. The only way to escape is to have sex." "Its all kind of different issues."

Its On!

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's On is my sh*t peer pressure song. Me being so stressed out going out and partying. Everybody's just going 'Come on dude, it's on.' That's partying, it's alcohol, cocaine, women. All that wrapped into one. I wrote a song about it. And the chorus I talked about Why am I really doing this? It's all my fault that I'm doing this because all the alcohol, the booze an the chicks do is just make it worse. They just rearrange all the problems in a different order that I can deal with at that moment.

Freak on a Leash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

One of the best titles I've heard ever for a song. That's my song against the music industry. Like me feeling like I'm f**kin' a pimp, a prostitute. Like I'm paraded around. I'm this freak paraded around but I got corporate America f**kin' making all the money while it's taking a part of me. It's like they stole something from me, they stole my innocence and I'm not calm anymore. I worry constantly.

Got the Life

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a song baggin' on myself. How everything's always handed to me. How I look up to God and don't want this anymore. Like I want something more out of life than all this. And I've got everything I really need but I sometimes don't like. I don't know how to explain it. I have to let it sit through the songs more to actually get into what I write. I truly know, really, the meanings of the songs almost. That's what I'm getting out of it right now.

Dead Bodies Everywhere

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the song about my parents trying to keep me out of the music business. My father was in it and he knew how it was and I totally understand now that I have a son. I want Nathan to be a musician but I him don't want him to go through the hell I went through. That's the same thing my Dad was doing. A lot of people can relate to it, because it's like the Dad's wanting their sons to be football players and their sons want to be doctors or something. That peer pressure its like trying to make them something they're really not. And the Dead Bodies thing is like so I did it and all I got out of it was dead bodies everywhere and got all traumatized. Thanks a lot Dad, Mom.

Children of the Korn

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's the song that Ice Cube is on Cube came up with the title. I fed off of what he wrote, he was talking about growing up and puberty. Dictating what he can do, like how you gonna tell me how to live and who to f**k? And all this stuff. And I took that and in my stuff I was talking about being a kid always known as the f**kin' town faggot. It's funny how things change. That some of these people picked on me and all of a sudden look who's laughing now. Also in another of the verse I talked about all these parents f**kin hating me for what I do, saying I'm corrupting their children, but in turn these parents need to step outside of themselves and really listen to what I'm talking about. Then I think they can understand that they were kids before. They're just really quick to judge me. All the Children of The Korn are all our Korn fans. All those kids going through that sh*t and feeling what I feel.

B.B.K.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Big black cock! That's what I call a jack and coke. Those little glasses they serve in Europe and everything. That's what I named it, big black cock. And that's another song about me dealing with the pressures of this album and how I, you know, I'm trying to kill myself, but you know? Do I really want to kill myself? Things I'm just questioning myself. Most of this is self-structured.

Pretty

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's a story about this little girl that came into the coroner's office when I was working there and she was f**ked by her dad. She was an 11 month old little baby girl. Her legs were broken back behind her and he just f**ked her like a toy doll and chucked her in the bathroom. It was the most heinous thing I've ever seen in my life and I still have nightmares about it.

All in the Family

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Fred was there after Korn TV and we said, 'Let's do a song together, Hey, man, let's go back and forth and rip on each other like an old school battle.' I don't know who's idea it was, I can't remember if it was mine or Fieldy's or Fred's but we came up with the idea and we started writing and we worked on it together. I came up with some bags on myself for Fred to say. It was all in good natured fun.

Reclaim My Place

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

This one is about the whole band and about all my life being called a homosexual. And then I became this big rock star in a band and I'm still called a fag even by my own band. So it's like I was f**kin' pissed off at them. It's like erase them all because I'm gonna reclaim my place and say hey, they owe a lot to me for what I did, and I owe a lot to them back. But, it still kinda sucks. I've never ever gotten away from that fag f**kin' title. Just because I'm a sensitive kinda guy. Kinda feminine it really sucks.

Justin

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Justin, that was the kid dying terminally with intestinal cancer. His last dying wish was to meet us and it really freaked me out. That threw a whole bunch of new kind of pressures on my head. That's really intense. Someone's gonna die and his last thing he wants to do is come hang out with us. So I truly just freaked out. It's like why would you want to meet me? What makes me so special? And in turn I talk about how I admire his strength and his life. I couldn't stare at him because he was so content he was gonna die. No one could look him in the eyes. And I totally admire his strength. I wish I had it.

Seed

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Seed. That's all about the same thing again. I laying in bed in my hotel room, thinking about do I really need all this stuff? All this pressure on me? Because I'm a stressed out freak. It's about Nathan, it's about every time that I look into his eyes, I see myself how I used to be, innocent and stress free. I'm kind of jealous of it. It really sucks, I used to be that way. It's like I have to work so hard at this thing in my life. I have to become a stressed out freak. I put food on the table for my child. Every time I look in his eyes, I just see myself staring right back at my @ss laughing. I was like care free, innocent as a child. It's really weird and I'm really jealous of it.

Cameltosis

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a love song. It's about women in general, women who hurt me. It's Tre's lyrics. He's going on about chicks and my chorus is like I'm so scared to love anyone and really let them in after I got hurt really really bad by a girl. I've let Renee in a little bit, to be honest, but I'll never be that in love ever again. That's what I'm saying, if you've loved twice, you're gonna get f**ked, 'cause you usually do.

My Gift to You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Renee always wanted me to write her a love song and that's why I called it My Gift To You. It's my gift to her, you know how I get sick. I always had a fantasy of f**king her and choking her to death. I fantasize about what it would look like me in her body and watching me do it. So it's like a really sick f**ked up song. I did it totally like, I love her so much, I want to take her out of this world. It's really strange. She used to leave notes on my pillow like 25 ways she'd like to kill me. She's got this weird death fetish. We're kinda f**kin' freaky. She got it. She's all 'Thank you that's kinda f**ked up. I was expecting a f**kin' I love you, baby kinda song.' I'm all, 'No, you know me.' I mean I can't do that.

Chi

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Chi is about a lot of alcohol and drug abuse. People turn to that when they have problems so that they won't have to feel their pain. The song was named after Chi Cheng from the Deftones. We named it after him because he used to call it reggae, and he loves reggae music.

Lost

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's the sterotypical thing about your best friend meeting a chick, and then you're nothing

Swallow

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's about being paranoid. Drug-induced paranoia.

Good God

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a guy I knew in school who I thought was a my friend, but who f**ked me. He came into my life with nothing, hung out at my house, lived off me, and made me do sh*t I didn't really wanna do." "I was into new romantic music and he was a mod, and he'd tell me if I didn't dress like a mod he wouldn't be my friend anymore."

"Whenever I had plans to go on a date with a chick he'd sabotage it, because he didn't have a date or nothing. He was a gutless f**king nothing. I haven't talked to him for years.

Mr. Rogers

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Back in the day when I was a speed freak, um... even further back when I was a little kid watchin' Mr. Rogers, that sh*t was scary. He was a freaky old man... Land of Makebelieve and Mr. f**kinMcFeely and sh*t... made me sick. So back when I was doing speed, like for 5 or 6 days I'd be trippin out and my brain would start to get freaky and get schizophrenic and stuff, and I'd tape it and watch it everyday over and over... I don't know, I was sick in the head. As a kid he told me to be polite and all it did was get me picked on. I f**king hate that man. Thanks for making me polite and trusting everyone, and easy to take advantage of. So I spent 3 months on that one song, just tweakin' on it, and it was totally just my Mr. Rogers obsession, about how evil I thought he was. Pretty much drug induced.

K @ # Ø % (Kunt)

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think it's sexist but it isn't. It's more subconcious b*tching at all the women who've been with me in my life. It's not about women in feneral, just those women who hurt me." "Initially, we wrote it to send to American radio for a joke, because they always chop up all the other songs. So we were going to send a 'real' single seven days later."

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It stands for all day I dream about sex. It's about how much of a pervert my ass is, and how I daydream about what a stud I am. But when it comes down to it, I'm a f**king pussy and I'm in there jacking off.

a** Itch

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the last song I wrote, and I was so burned at writing out lyrics because everytime I write I get depressed because I start thinking about things, you know? So the whole song is about that. In the chorus it says, 'Before day, my sun will be dying'. It's because I put myself on the line all the time and for what? Because people aren't going to be listening to it anyway.

Kill You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a relative I first met when I was 12. I f**king hate that b*tch. She's the most evil, f**ked up person I've met in my whole life. She hated my guts. She did everything she could to make my life hell. Like, when I was sick she'd feed me tea with Tabasco, which is really hot pepper oil. She'd make me drink it and say, 'You have to burn that cold out, boy'. f**ked up sh*t like that. So every night when I'd go to sleep, I'd dream of killing that b*tch. In some sick way I had a sexual fantasy about her, and I don't know what that stems from or why, but I always dreamt about f**king her and killing her

Ball Tongue

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The meaning of ball tongue is simple. Some thought it had to do with oral sex, but in fact its about a guy we had to work with on a t-shirt (Jeff Creath). He either had a pierced tongue or a wart or something on his tongue and he was a dick to us.

Different live: Jonathan goes into a Rap (by Coolio) Called "Loddi Doddi" in the middle of the song.

Clown

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Korn was playing a show in San Diego for a clothing card. This skinhead guy came up and started flippin' me off. When we started, I bent down and the guy took a swing at me. Our tour manager, Jeff, got into it and knocked the guy out. I wrote this song about him: 'Scared to be honest with yourself/you're a cowardly man.

Faget

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Everyone thinks I'm bashing gay people in this song, and I'm not. It's really about me going through high school being called 'pussy,' 'queer' and all that stuff, about getting picked on by all these jocks.

Shoots and Ladders

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It was written because all these little kids sing these nursery rhymes and they don't know what they originally meant. Everyone is so happy when singing but 'London Bridge' is about the Black Plague. All of them have these evil stories behind them." "The lyrics are all from nursery rhymes, and a lot of nursery rhymes go back to the Middle Ages. They're actually pretty twisted if you know the stories behind them, like about Black Death and stuff.

Helmet in the Bush

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a speed problem that I had. You know, you do a lot of speed and -- if you're a male -- your penis retracts severly. The guy heard at the beginning of the song is La Caco, a friend of the band. His real name is Michael and likes taco bell. He's a really Nice Guy and he has been friends with the band for years

Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think daddy' was writen because my dad f**ked me up the ass,thats not what the song's about. It wasn't about my dad or my mum. When I was a kid I was being abused by someone else and I went to my parents and told them about it. and they thought I was lying and joking around, they never did sh*t about it. They didn't belive it was happening to their son. I don't like to talk about that song, this is the most I've ever talked about it...

[fourmarkdove]

Cider.

Prompt: How about an angsty Henry x reader: she is told during a nightmare/dream that she has only one day left to live - and that she must not reveal anything to her loved ones! Waking up in Henrys arms and realize how lucky she was... Even if it couldnt last forever... @scorpionchild81

Title: Cider.

Words: 3k

Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Fluff. You hear in a dream you have only one day left to live.

Paring: Henry x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Anxiety, nightmares, panic attacks, dissociative disorder, death/dying. DD/lg if you squint and stand on one foot. (I think that’s everything?)

A/N: Pretty close to the prompt. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

~

Henry inhaled deeply, expanding his lungs audibly as he sat up in the bed you shared. He stroked a soothing hand over the curve of your hip while squinting in the dark, searching for the sound that woke him.

Clutching onto your pillow, you buried your face and mewled into it. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched you lying on your side, tense from the battle behind your closed eyes. His brows knitted with concern. It’d been so long since the nightmares claimed you, he thought for the last few weeks that maybe they’d gone altogether. He was clearly mistaken.

Dropping onto his forearm beside you, he carded his fingers through your hair and called to you gently. His first instinct was to burst through those fiery doors to hell and drag you back to this side of consciousness and safety, but it never worked that way. He had to tread gently, let you return to him on your own time. And it was incredibly painful to watch and wait for.

“Darling?” he beckoned, scratching the stubble on his chin over your shoulder like a puppy. “I’m here.”

Your lips parted and nails clawed into the pillow so sharply that the fabric finally ripped along the seam and soft white feathers fluffed out. A frown set his features hard. Cuddling his much larger frame to you, his thick arms encompassed you completely and thighs drew up close behind yours. He pressed his lips just behind your ear and let his warm breath fan over your skin.

“I’ll wait right here with you, Nugget.” As he began to gently rock your body, your grip on the pillow relaxed and he cooed into your ear about what a good girl you were.

Keeping his arms flexed tightly around your body, he hummed a soft tune, remembering how you always fell asleep in his arms in the hammock out back. He’d put a foot down to keep the two of you swaying, and he’d settle you on his chest, right under his chin, so you’d feel it when it’d rumble in his chest. Eventually you’d succumb to his comforting, and he’d feel your body melt into his long frame. He’d scratch the back of your arms, rub circles over your back, even hold your ass with a squeeze that’d make you sigh. You called it the ‘anxious hammock‘; his woman could call it anything she wanted so long as she felt protected and loved in it.

You’d been extra anxious lately with the news and social distancing and people in your social circle getting sick. And with him leaving your self imposed quarantine to focus on training going back to the Witcher set soon, it really ramped up your anxiety. 

It expressed itself little by little, starting with hugs around his neck as he was about to leave for the gym, but then when he would straighten up, you’d still be clinging on, dangling off of your feet. He’d chuckle and kiss all over your face, leaving you smiling. But other times, he’d find you hugging your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks until the shower ran cold and turned your lips almost blue. 

Other nights, he fully knew what your migraines looked like, so when you’d pretend to have one just so you could avoid dinner, he worried. He still finished dinner, cleaned up a bit, walked Kal and came to bed early with that lavender lotion you liked smeared into his palms. You and he spent a lot of time in that bed together, or the hammock, or the shower, just touching and being together. 

When things felt so uncertain and all of the words and tears were wrung out, you’d take turns massaging oil or lotion into each other. He always needed his kitten’s touch kneading against his sore muscles. And you needed his strength to pull you from the anxious knots you tied yourself into.

It really should have come as no surprise that the nightmares returned. The problem was that he wanted to do more - to solve an unsolvable problem - and that frustrated him to no end. He applied himself and conquered so many other areas of his life but in this part, the most important part, he had to be patient.

Sliding his arm under your head like a pillow, he gently tilted your hips back into him to locate the blanket you tucked between your legs. He knew this was more of a marathon than a sprint, so he settled in with a clenched jaw and tried to exhale slowly and sleep.

The black void is a gasping, vacuous, gaping maw threatening to consume first your sanity and then eternity. You can feel the voice rattling through your rib cage, long before the words make conscious sense.

“One day,” the voice calls from nowhere and everywhere. “One day left and then no more.”

Your entire body shudders free of its own volition and you’re aware of the crisp, scratchy bedsheets under your body. Antiseptic. Something metallic on your tongue. Dripping, beeping, wooshing. Buzzing purple fluorescent lights above. Your eyes roll open, vaguely aware of a nurse checking bags, pushing buttons, lifting your blankets. No privacy, no options, no voice.

Why am I here in this hospital? Why am I alone? ‘One more day’ and then - no more?

Panic sets in. You want to scream but the words won’t come out. There’s so much you wanted to do with your life. So many places you were going to see. You wanted to start a family with Hen... wait. Where is Henry? Does he know where you are? What if he doesn’t and you never get to say goodbye? 

The thought of tears spilling over those bright blue eyes of his, knowing you’d never be able to hold him again, kiss him again made everything in your being ache. You are desperate to cry out but nothing. It’s as if you’re dead already.

Almost as soon as his long lashes closed over his stormy blue eyes, like falling down into your own body, every muscle jerked and you gasped back into consciousness.

Scrambling to sit up, you drew your legs in to get your feet under you. You tore away the covers and your hoarse voice ripped through your parched vocal cords: “Hhhhhhennnnryyyy!”

“I’m here, Nugget,” he offered, his broad shoulders ghosting behind you.

Despite its size, his hand curving around your ribs was incredibly gentle. You shuddered at his touch; horror darkened your pupils and bottom lip quivered like a harp string vibrating to the point of breaking. Your nails clawed desperately into the sweatpants covering his thigh. Lips parted, but no words formed just yet; your eyes closed tightly and fingers touched your lips ruefully.

“Just a dream, sweet,” he comforted in a strong baritone, wrapping his whole hand around your small fingers. “You’re alright. See? Your Henry Bear is right here. Let me hold you, darling?”

Nodding emphatically, you dug your toes into the sheets and launched your whole body at him, not thinking for one moment about how pathetic your whimpers and trembling arms clinging around his neck might have seemed.

His brows lifted in the center and he continued to follow your gaze right up until you buried your face in his neck. The corner of his lips ticked upwards only briefly, before he nuzzled his face into your hair. 

It was stored in his muscle memory by now just where to grasp under your bare thighs, so you could bend your knees and spread over his hips so he could ease you down into a more comfortable position in his lap. There was no awkwardness negotiating who needed to move which limb where because you’d been doing this for years. 

Only recently there was less blushing over soaked panties or groans caused by awkward erections; just within the last six months you found yourselves single simultaneously and decided to give it a try.

Your breath was hot and stilted between sobs into his shoulder; his stubble along his jawline was scratchy against your forehead and temple but you didn’t mind. You just needed the closeness. Lifting your hair up into a ponytail, he pursed his lips, and blew cool air across your sweaty neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned, rubbing slow circles with spread fingertips over your back. Your body tensed at his words but began to relax again when you wound your fingers dipped into his chocolate curls.

“I… don’t want to die,” you could barely whisper over his broad shoulder. “I don’t want YOU to die.”

“Oh Nugget,” he sighed, kissing the nape of your neck. “You dreamed I died?”

“No,” you hiccuped, pulling away and tapping the K on his soft gray shirt, attempting to distract yourself while you explained. “I was. And I wasn’t - wasn’t going to see you and - My heart, Hen. It - it feels broken.”

Cupping your face in both hands, he lifted your gaze and kissed your wet cheeks. “Look at us right now…”

Sniffling, you tucked your hands in between his biceps and forearms. “I know. I - It just felt so real. It feels so real. I’m not sure this feels real. It’s too nice to be real. You are too nice. I don’t know how to be sure...”

Deep worry lines etched over his forehead. Pressing his lips together in a flat line, his nostrils flared and he crossed his arms over his chest, peeling off his shirt.

The bear of a man breathed deep and slow, opening his hands to you. He gave you a wide berth; there would be no forcing - ever. His was a silent invitation to this familiar tango you’d only ever done with him.

Your gaze darted from his large palms resting against your thighs to his patient blue eyes watching you carefully.

“It’s alright, darling,” he encouraged, the softest of smiles lifting the apples of his cheeks. He wiggled his long fingers and you held your breath, sliding your hands into his. You felt the rough spots and calluses from the weights, the weaponry, the rope work, the horses. He worked so hard and should be sleeping right now instead of dealing with whatever mess you brought to him.

His soft kiss pressed to your forehead drew you from your thoughts. “Keep going,” he whispered against your hairline and you narrowed your eyes, focusing on his hands again. 

They were warm and so strong holding you and - oh - his middle and index fingers. The amazing things they did together. You forced yourself to stop thinking of it but your two fingers stroking inside his two fingers, and the furious blush across your cheeks, made him chuckle.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned broadly. Despite your blush, you continued to dance your fingertips inside his forearms, feeling the veins and sinewy muscle, the thick curve of his biceps and and shoulders. With a soft sigh, you lifted your head, kissed his clavicle and nuzzled into the light smattering of his scratchy chest hair. It was your favorite place to cuddle into. 

His particular masculine scent filled your senses and soothed every frayed, exposed nerve in your body; his musk reminded you of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, orange and cranberry being mixed into hot apple cider on a crisp fall day.

You continued to lazily trace lines along his ribs and down his back, but he knew by your sigh that you’d come home. Tenderly sweeping your hair over your shoulder, he slowly and deliberately slid one arm high across your shoulders and the other low around the small of your back.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you murmured, your voice returning to its usual sweet timbre. It signaled you were returning from the frenzied dissociative state kicked off by that horrifically anxious nightmare. It meant he could speak to you differently, touch you differently.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” he countered, kissing your forehead.

Sweeping your fingers along the stubble of his jawline, you cooed whisper softly and tentatively brushed your lips to his. Securing you to himself, he touched noses and parted lips, deepening the first kiss. Your fingers pushed into the back of his hair and tugged just gently enough to make you both smile.

With a deep, rumbling purr, he grabbed your hips and rolled you easily under him. He caressed two knuckles over your temple and teased your lips apart with his; he chuckled when you chased after his mouth for another.

But you pressed the heels of your palms against his chest and immediately he planked his body, lifting all of his considerable weight off of your much smaller frame.

Shutting his eyes tight, he huffed an exasperated breath and clenched his jaw. He should have known better. It was much too soon to touch you like this.

He intended to roll off and give you all of the comforting and cuddles you needed - until you wiggled a little under him. You shifted just a bit on the bed, reaching down and dragging your t-shirt up your bare stomach. His head was dropped just enough so his dark curls caressed your chest when you lifted your shirt off over your head and sighed softly under him.

You couldn’t help but giggle just a little at the arched brow and wide eyes he gave you when his gaze dragged up your nearly naked body to your face again.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, all better?”

“Yes, my love. Thank you.” Your answer was purely peaches and innocence during the act of wrapping your arms behind his neck drawing him down to you; only this time, he kept some of his weight lifted onto his forearms tucked under your shoulders.

“I thought I was crushing you.” He had a hint of playful warning in his tone.

“Oh. No, you know I love it even if you were,” you cooed, bending your knees and drawing your soft thighs up his ribs. “Isn’t it Oxytocin from the skin to skin contact?”

He smirked and grunted, catching one of your feet working on dragging the sweatpants down his hip. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

The corner or your lips twitched and your chest felt heavy all over again. You hated to admit it but the specter always lingered. “At the moment.”

“I know darling. We do these things one day at a time though, don’t we? Sometimes, by the minute?” He glanced up while you rolled the curls of his hair over your fingers. Collecting your wrist, he drew it to his mouth and kissed your hand.

Swallowing hard, you blinked but a tear escaped and rolled down your temple.

“Hey, shhh, Nugget.”

You sniffled and looked up into those beautiful, truly concerned, blue eyes of his. “You’re so much better than I deserve, Henry.”

He sighed and his shattered heart tore away from your gaze. Rocking his hips further down between your legs, he wrapped both arms under the small of your back and rested his head on your chest. 

It was the first he’d ever put himself in that position unless... he was there to give your breasts some attention? Your nipples hardened at the thought of his hot mouth sucking. He must have seen, or felt your nipple pebbling so near to his lips, because he fisted the edge of the bed sheet and covered your exposed skin.

Uncertain what to do exactly, you laid quietly and listened to his deep breaths and slow heartbeat for a long time. It wasn’t until you heard his breathing pause and stutter that your stomach dropped. “Henry? What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know what else to do. What other way can I say it so you’ll understand?” His stormy eyes were dark and cheeks flushing pink when he put his chin on your sternum and glanced up at you. “I’m a patient man but you sure are putting me through my paces, sweetheart.”

Panic started to tighten your chest. Hearing your heartbeat and breathing quicken, he pressed his palm over it and spread his thumb away from his fingers to kiss your skin hidden under it.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” You asked bracing yourself with a fistful of sheets in each hand, practically panting the words.

Bearing his teeth, he sat up and stroked your cheek with his calloused thumb. “I want you to not be afraid anymore. I want to take away all of that worry in that beautiful mind of yours.”

As he swept the pads of his fingers over your forehead and down your nose, you gave them a kiss when they passed over your lips.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, swallowing hard so his Adam’s apple bounced. Your brows lifted, confused, but before you could ask, he dropped onto his side and pulled you to him, sheets and all. Legs and arms tangled together, you touched foreheads and shared the same warm breath fanning over each other’s skin.

“Hen?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Nugget.”

“Hen?”

“Hmm.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it was only a minute. And in the middle of nowhere. I’d want that last minute with you. That’s home… with you. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

You thought for a moment that the wide eyed expression he gave you was surprise, until a smile lifted his features so brightly, his canines appeared. His mouth pressed to yours, gently at first, but taking a breath, he tipped your head and closed his lips over your top one, causing you to whimper and give him your bottom lip next. As your kisses became more hungry by the second, your attention was drawn from his tongue flexing into your mouth to his hands at your back.

They were fumbling with something, although you couldn’t tell quite what. Reaching behind you curiously, he grasped your hand and pressed his thumb inside your palm. Instinctively, you closed your fingers around it as he returned your hand to your chest.

He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and grinned. “Until I can get you a real diamond,” he panted breathlessly, lips reddened and slightly swollen.

Peering down inside your closed hand, you recognized the gold flash immediately. “Henry, darling, you can’t give me your signet ring!”

He scoffed, arching an eyebrow and collected your left hand, “’Course I can.”

Putting your entire ring finger in his mouth, he pulled off the artificial pearl you wore with his teeth and slid his ring on instead, making you giggle and wiggle your fingers.

“It’s a bit large,” you confessed, attempting to keep your fingers pressed tightly together. Turning your hand over, he let it drop into his palm and slid it onto your thumb instead.

“It’s only temporary,” he reminded you, lying back on the pillows and opening his arms so you could put your head on his chest. He let out a long, gruff sigh feeling your body settle down tucked in against him. Closing your eyes, you already felt your body starting to get heavy.

“You know,” he continued, gently raking his spread fingers through your hair, “I wanted to kiss you the first night we met.”

“That birthday party?” you cooed, nuzzling along his jawline. “That was almost ten years ago, Hen. I wonder where we’d be if you would have.”

“I imagine the exact same place. Only there’d be a couple more pairs of little feet running up and down the hall. What do you think, darling?”

You’d have absolutely agreed, and probably squealed at the thought, but you were already fast asleep by the time he finished his sentence. And it was the best sleep you’d had in months.

[justcallmenikki7]

The Power of Orders

Pairing: Split!Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: you are the only person J-Hope listens to - even when you ask him to commit a crime, he will listen. 

Warnings: mentions of killing and mafia, mentions of sexual assault/harassment, spilt personality au.

Notes: happy happy birthday to our sunshine!! by the way, this is apart of the BTS Reaction To: You Asking Them to Murder Someone. (will add link later) i couldnt think of a title and uuuugh, i hope this title will do. 

Your whole entire life you have always wanted to prove Jung Hoseok wrong. You wanted to be right for once in your life, but Hoseok has always somehow turned out to be right and it pisses you off. When you got into a relationship with him at the age of seventeen, right after he developed his alter ego, J-Hope, your want to prove him wrong increased.

Hoseok loves this determined side of you because of how serious you get. He finds it both hot and endearing. But the one person who hates it is J-Hope. Every time you try and prove J-Hope wrong, he gets more and more protective and worried – something that he will never admit to anyone besides Hoseok. You know this because you know your boyfriend(s), but your stubborn side cannot help itself.

So, when you got invited to an allies ball, you wanted to go because your friend who is dating one of the allies leaders was going to be there, and it would be a good time to talk with her. But the thing is, both J-Hope and Hoseok do not want to go. This confused you because wherever you went, your boyfriend went.

And this is when you should have listened to him and not tried to challenge him.

You left the house, yelling at your boyfriend, telling him off. Now, you are coming running into the house, seeking your boyfriends’ sense of security.

“Y/N? What the—” Hoseok was cut off by you literally jumping into his lap, not caring that you are tearing your Gucci dress in the process. “Why the fuck is there bruises on your arms?” And in that moment, you knew that J-Hope has taken complete control and there will be no going back until he has satisfied sadistic needs. “Why did you not call me? Who the fuck did this?” Your boyfriend continued to question you, which made you sob harder in both fear and disappointment (in yourself). By the increase of your sobs, J-Hope realized that him acting out will not help with anything. So, needing to be the boyfriend who does not call his gang and goes out to kill, he began to take deep breaths to control his seizing anger.

Your boyfriend’s calmness helped you calm down, allowing you to talk. “I’m so sorry, I should have listened to you. I’m so stupid and stubborn, I’m so sorry,” you began by apologizing. “You were right,” you began to cry into your boyfriend’s chest, burying your head, trying to hide yourself in him.

“You’re not stupid. Stubborn? Yes. But not stupid. Now, instead of criticizing yourself, how about you tell me why you are bruised and looked like you just got harassed?” J-Hope hates trying to beat around the bush. He needs to know who he needs to kill.

“Because I did get harassed by Min-Chun. He cornered me and—” You could not finish the sentence, hating the thought of having to think of what just happened to you in a short amount of time. “I thought him and I were friends, and he told me that he needed to talk to me, but it was a ploy to get me alone and to… I had to use that pepper spray you got me to stop him. he groped me and tried to, but he didn’t.” J-Hopes grip on you tightened, you are being the only thing that is keeping him from destroying his office and finding the scum who did this to you. He knew of Min-Chun, actually sort of liked him only because of how highly you spoke of him. but now, he is the number one thing he wants to take his sadistic needs out on. He will torture him, but not like how he wants too because he needs your permission first.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, you are being the only person he questions. “I can hire someone to make his life hell, burn his house, rip the brakes—”

“Kill him. torture him. Make him feel the fear that he made me feel.” You said without a second thought.

On the inside, J-Hope is smirking, smiling even at the request you gave him. The sadistic and blood lust side that he held was beaming in excitement, barely containing himself. But on the outside, J-Hope lent down and kissed the crown of your head before picking you up bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. No words were spoken, only silent comfort that your boyfriend gave you as he helped you out of your dress and putting you in his t-shirt. He held the anger in as he saw the marks that Min-Chun gave you, only being able to calm himself by you and thought of giving him ten times the marks that he gave you.

Pressing a gentle, loving kiss on your lips, J-Hope tucked you into your guys California king bed before leaving. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

And with that, you fell asleep peacefully, comforted by the thought of your boyfriend getting rid of a person who will not be a threat to society anymore.  

[spacegirlapollo]

Birthday Party for Two (Aizawa x Female Reader

Title : Birthday Party for Two 

Pairing : Shouta Aizawa x Female Reader 

Genre: Fluff / Smut 

Summary : I’m really bad at summaries but its some fluff then its some smut lmfao thanks for reading ! 

Steam hissed out of the electric iron as you pressed the steaming button. It was warm on your skin in the freezing cold of you and your husband's apartment. It was a simple and small space and both of you liked it that way. You especially loved the feeling of the cold wood floor underneath your feet in the morning, even if other people thought you were weird for that. 

Besides the dimly lit lamp in the corner, the perfectly white button up shirt on the ironing board were the only things lighting up your small living room. Inside the room was a long couch and a desk with a desktop that you and Aizawa shared. It was scattered with a mixture of your work papers and his students papers. 

The red light on the iron turned on letting you know that the iron was ready for use. You thought of your husband as you begin to press the hot metal over his shirt. It was 3 am in the morning and Aizawa had finally gone to sleep in your shared bed. 

You’d left work early to bring him lunch that day, because you were sure he didn’t bring any to work that day. One of his students Katsuki Bakugo had been kidnapped the night before by the League of Villans and, even if he didn't show it to his students, he was a wreck. You were greeted with small tight lip smiles when you’d walked into the teachers office carrying his lunch. Everyone was too busy with damage control and meetings to chat with their former co-worker. 

You’d worked for U.A for years, working side by side with Aizawa before you had the idea to open up your own company. It was still getting off the ground but you wanted to create a safe space for abandoned and homeless children with dangerous quirks. 

Usually Aizawa was able to sense your presence when you were close but today he had his head on the desk. His long black hair was cascading past his shoulders since he had it in a bun. It was your favorite look on him. But you knew that, usually the bun meant business. A single email web page was open on his computer. You softly put the food down on the table and knelt down next to him, placing a soft hand on his back. 

“Shouta?” You almost whispered. It hurt your heart to see him like this. He was always the composed one of the relationship. Always the one to ease your anxieties and be the yin to your yang. If you were freaking out, he was extra calm, soothing even. When he was extra anal you were there to help him loosen up. It was a good system. He opened his slightly bloodshot eyes and looked over at you. You could tell that he had been close to sleep but not quite there yet. 

“ Mei.” He said softly. It was his voice that he used when you were all alone, in your cold little apartment, and you couldn't help but give him a small smile. He was so cute without meaning to be. 

“I brought you some lunch. Come and eat with me.” 

You didn't phrase it as an option, because if you had, he would have declined politely and returned to his current state. 

You could see the reality of this setting into his eyes and he nodded, defeated but not upset. 

You stood up grabbing food you’d brought and made your way out of the room with him. The other staff were still busy chattering nervously about the current situation. 

It was a quiet walk back to your car which you chose because it would be quiet. You honestly hadn't planned on eating there. You were going to just drop off the food and leave but seeing him made you sad. 

In the car he ripped into the food quietly and it dawned on you that he probably hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. You caught yourself staring at him and you looked down at your own food and started to eat. 

“ I’m sorry” he said after a while, half of his food was gone. You turned, your mouth full of food surprised. 

“For what?” You asked bewildered. He looked up at you and your brows furrowed further. He seemed genuinely upset. 

“ Your birthday is tomorrow.” he said. “ And the principal has asked that I come with him to do the press conferences tomorrow. I won’t be able to celebrate with you.” 

You’d completely forgotten that the next day was your birthday. With all the news and worrying about Bakugo and Aizawa, it flew out of your head. 

“ Shouta.” You said, swallowing your food and pointing your fork at him. You always did this, waiving something around when you reprimanded him and he secretly loved it but he wasn't going to tell you that. He loved that you’d come to see him, even if he didn't have the words to say it outloud. He was drowning in his thoughts and just your hand on his back was enough to pull him to the surface again. And you looked cute, he thought, cheeks full of food waving a fork in his face.

“ You don’t have to be sorry! It’s just a birthday. And of course with everything going on right now, it can wait!” 

He opened his mouth to say something else but you bulldozed on not letting him speak. 

“ And were married, so I plan on spending a lot of birthdays with you. So not celebrating one out of the rest of our lives isn't a big deal. Besides I’m more worried about you not eating! You should really- “ 

You paused abruptly as he cupped your face and brought you towards him planing a small kiss on your forehead. You didn’t know it but you had said all the right words. He loved knowing that you thought about being together until you were old. 

He pulled away and continued to eat his food quietly. You smiled inwardly. It was his way of saying “ I love you, thank you, but please shut up” without having to say anything. And so you did shut up, munching along with him in a nice silence. 

He eventually left, taking the trash with him and leaving with a much nicer, much longer kiss before exiting the car. Even from behind though, you could tell he was still stressed, and a little sad. 

---- 

So here you were 3 am on your own birthday ironing his clothes for his press conference in secret. He’d come home late, and you’d gotten out of bed to see him doing even more work at the little desktop. You didn’t bother him though, and right at 2:30 am he got into the bed with you, thinking you were asleep as well. 

You knew he wasn't thinking things all the way through, and that in the morning, he would be in a flurry trying to get ready and be calm and collected. Ironing his clothes and looking presentable was one less thing you wanted him to worry about. 

When it was finished you hung it up in the room, and proceeded to make his lunch as quietly as you could in the kitchen. 

With food and clothes ready, you crawled back into bed tired, falling asleep listening to the rise and fall of your husband’s breath. 

--- 

It was 7 am when Aizawa rose, feeling his phone alarm vibrating in his pocket. He quickly shut it off and pulled the covers off of himself. He turned to see you in bed, still asleep and not having to wake up for another hour or so. He allowed himself to drink you in for only a minute, taking in your sweet face as you slept and your hair all over your pillow. You were a year older today and he was going to miss celebrating with you. 

He turned away forcing himself to start going over his talking points. What did he need to do to get ready? He needed to get his suit, but he was going to have to iron it, which was going to see him back in time. As he made his way to the closet he stopped seeing his, one and only suit already hanging on the door frame ready for him, wrinkle free and appropriate. 

His heart was swelling in his chest, you’d gone out of your way again to do this for him. He looked again at you in the bed before going to finish getting ready. 

-- 

Night fell and you stumbled into your home, your friends had taken you out on the town for your day and you were just a little buzzed. But not enough to see that your husband wasn't home. You stumbled over to your bedroom, leaving a trail of your items through the house. You’d had an absolutely great time and you were glad to have such great friends. You couldn't help but sneak and watch bits and pieces of Aizawa’s press conferences, but your girlfriends kept you pretty preoccupied. 

You couldn’t get your dress off though, and you remembered one of your friends had to help you into it in the first place. 

“Shoot.” You said twisting around trying to get it off. 

-- 

Aizawa entered the apartment, his coat slung over his forearm. He closed the door with his foot and his eyebrow raised as he saw the two heels, coat and underwear making a trail to your bedroom. He followed it and couldn't control the slightest smile as he saw you hoping up and down trying to get your dress off. 

You turned at the sound of his footsteps and your face split into a dazzling smile. 

“Shooutaa” You drawled a bit lifting your hands up. You were not drunk, you felt good though, really good. 

Then you pouted. “ I cant get this stupid dress off Shouta. It’s cursed.” 

Aizawa chuckled at this putting his coat down on the dresser and coming closer to you, he pulled you into a loose hug and reached behind you for the tricky zipper. 

He was close, very close and his hair was still pulled back, and he smelled good, and damn it that really got you going. 

Neither of you were very forward when it came to sex. You both quickly learned to tell which kiss was a -I love you kiss- rather than a -lets go to bed right now kiss-. You couldnt recall a time either of you had verbally communcicated before sex. It was always a look, a smile, a kiss. But you were feeling good, really good.

You grabbed onto the black tie tightened on his shirt and brought him closer to you, his composure broke for a bit in shock but then he quickly regained his Aizawa cool. 

“You know.. I really like your hair like this.” You said softly. You reached up with both hands and began to loosen his tie. You could feel him messing with the zipper which was down almost halfway, but it was stuck on something and without being able to see he couldn't get it off. 

“Mei.” Aizawa said softly, but it was a warning. A warning that any further, there wasn't any going back. You tossed the tie to the floor and let your flat hands travel down his body, all without breaking eye contact. You were firmly ignoring his warning.

“How was your birthday.” He asked, his voice sounding a little breathier than usual. 

“Good.” You said looking from his lips to his eyes. “ It's better now though.”  

You’d successfully unbuckled and unlooped his belt and it made a small clink when it hit the floor. 

Then the button to the dress pants came off as well. 

“ I can't get this dress off.” Aizawa said his voice is truly husky now. You could feel him,hard and pressing into your exposed thigh. 

“You gonna let that stop you?” You asked challenging, being a brat , but you couldn't help yourself, suddenly you were really worked up. He still hadnt made the move , and you brought your hands back up to his hair sliding it through his locs and you brought your lips together for a kiss. 

The hand in his hair, which you knew for certain, drove him crazy and the kiss was a dangerous combo. But you lived for danger, so you couldn't help the slight squeal of excitement when he moved, fast and decisive, grabbing you up by your butt. You moved reflexively wrapping your legs around his back, moaning as he returned your kiss. He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

And then he was hiking up your dress, and you were clawing at his pants, getting them down just enough. His grip on you tightened as he positioned you over him and slowly brought you down onto his cock. 

You broke the kiss to moan, your hands positioned on either side of his shoulders. Neither of you wasted time and again he was slamming up into you. His head buried in your neck and his hands painfully gripping your ass, slamming you down onto him in deep strokes. 

You didn't hold back on the moaning, because it felt so good. Too good. It was criminal. 

It was hardly ever that the two of you were this worked up. To worked up to even take off your clothes. 

Your left hand was clutching his back for balance and the other snaked into his hair, gripping it at its roots. His heated breaths were in your ear, and they were becoming uneven as he stroked you. The sounds of your ass slapping down filled the room with your moans, and neither of you were going to last long. You could feel his cock throbbing as he filled you up. 

“A- ah Shouta!” You cried out as he descended into short but strong strokes against your spot. 

Aizawa got a glimpse of the two of you in the body length mirror in front of him. His pants pooled to his ankles, shirt loosely buttoned. And you still in the silk dress, that was hanging loosely from your shoulders and exposing your bare breast, clinging to him tightly. He felt a little ashamed at how he loved to watch him filling you up ,and the way your face changed with every stroke. 

“Shouta - I’m gonna -” You could hardly get out, before you were cumming, your pussy throbbing in ecstasy. And Aizawa can't control himself anymore, releasing into you hot and fast, with a deep groan. 

You let him ride out his orgasm, kissing up and down his exposed neck and nibbling a bit at his ear. When you could feel his heart rate slowing you pulled back a little to see his face. You kissed him again, softly this time , sweetly. 

You noticed that he was still hard inside of you, and pulled away. 

“ How about you go get the scissors to cut me out of this dress, and I go get the hot water ready in the shower.” 

----

Another round and a shower later, you were both in bed. You were cuddled into his shoulder, your legs tangled with each other. He was tracing a finger down the small of your back, fighting a wave of exhaustion. 

“ I love you” He softly moving his hand from your back to your neck stroking your cheeks softly. 

You felt like you could have cried, maybe the alcohol was still coursing through your system making you emotional, you thought. 

Aizawa was a big believer that saying I love you, too much can make it meaningless. So he always showed you instead, how he loved you. So when he did say it to you it meant so much more. It was the best birthday gift he could have given you. 

“I love you too. Shouta.” You said before the two of you drifted off into sleep. 

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: Killer In Disguise

Gif credit @jasonstodds.

Requested on wattpad.

Hope you all enjoy.

Happy Reading Dollies.

"Scott, idiot this is my sister Y/N". Derek introduced you to Stiles and Scott.

"Nice to meet you guys. Heard alot about you". You eyed Stiles who was awkwardly trying not to stare at you.

"So you're going to be going to our school"?

"Right".

"Um, do you know what classes you'll be taking"? Scott nervously rubbed the back on his neck.

"I dont know for sure yet. Derek hasnt went and got my schedule yet". You nudged your big brothers arm playfully.

"I'll get them. It's the weekend, I have other matters to attend". Derek sighed rolling his eyes. He maybe your big brother but you sometimes acted like your mom. Staying on him about things. He needed someone watching his back.

"You're right, I have to get ready for school anyways. Make sure I have everything so I'm going to go". You waved bye and left.

Derek crossed his arms growling at Scott and Stiles. "Dont even think about it".

"What'd we do"? Stiles asked innocently.

"I will rip you to shreads and bury pieces of you around town. Don't even think about". Derek warned them. Derek walked away and Scott shrugged his shoulders.

"Over protective". Stiles wrapped his arm around Scott and headed home.

Monday came, you were excited but also really nervous. Before living with Derek you were homeschooled so being in highschool was scary. Were you going to fit in or make a fool of yourself the first day? It was swimming in your head not to screw up or say something stupid.

As you walked in you saw Scott and Stokes at their locker, you went over to say hello.

"Y/N, hey". Stiles spotted you before you could say anything.

"Hey".

"So how's your first day going"? Scott asked as he slipped on his back pack.

"Good I guess. I aciddently bumped into a girl with red hair and she yelled at me but other than that its okay".

"You..you bumped into Lydia Martin? Did she smell nice? I bet she smelled nice". Stiles leaned against the locker with heart eyes coming out.

"He has a major crush on her. But she won't give him the time of day and plus shes dating Jackson".

"I didn't smell her. Sorry". You chuckled as Stiles started falling from the lockers. 

"What class you got next"?

"Math".

"Hey, me too". Scott grinned.

"Great, you can show me where its at".

"See ya Stiles". You and Scott both said as Stiles jumped up acting like nothing happened and walked off.

During math class you were actually paying attention and surprisingly knowing what the teacher was talking about until you looked out of the corner of your eye and saw Lydias head tilted your way and her filing her nails as she watched you.

Yeah, she hated you. First day and already made a enemy. Great.

You tried to ignore her but she threw something at you. You didnt turn around but you could hear giggling and chuckling.

She kept doing it when the teachers back was turned. You were starting to get angry. Your knuckles started growing white as you gripped the desk. The wood started to split. Pulling your hand back you saw your nails had grown at least two inches, your hands started growing hair. Oh god, this was not happening in the middle of class.

Scott looked up from his book and saw you were freaking out trying to hide your hands in your jacket. But he noticed your teeth and your eyes. They were a amber color.

"Sppt. Y/N". Scott tried to get your attention.

You couldn't control it. You had to get out before you exploded.

Not even bothering to get the teachers permission you bolted out the door. The teacher protested. "Where is she going"?

"I think she had to take her medicine". Scott tried to cover.

"Was she okay"?

"I'll go check". Scott rushed out the door, looking down the hall he saw you stagger into a bathroom.

He carefully walked into the bathroom. "Y/N? You okay"?

Scott heard growling coming from the last stall. "I know what you're going through. Come out and we can sort this out".

Gulping you opened the door. There you stood, all wolf like. You couldnt believe it. Derek and you thought the werewolf gene skipped you. You showed no signs of werewolf.

"What the hell is happening"?

"You've unleashed the werewolf". Scott chuckled.

"Not funny. How do I make it go away"?

"What made you mad"?

"Lydia. She was throwing paper balls at me. I just want to rip her head off". You growled loudly.

"Okay. Calm down. You cant be this in school".

"I can't. I dont know how". You started to panic.

Scott thought of what Stiles did when he went all wolfie. He sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. But he didn't want to do that to you.

"I'm going to try something just dont kill me". Scott stepped closer to you until you were between him and the wall. He leaned in and kissed your lips. At first it wasnt working then something in you relaxed. Soon your arms were around his neck and not hairy anymore.

You pulled back. "It works. Holy crap it worked". You squealed kissing him again.  Scott stood there happy with himself.

"Thanks Scott. You saved Lydia".

Scott laughed.

"Okay, you saved me too".

"No problem. If this happens again I'm here".

"I'll keep that in mind". You giggle. "What did you tell the teacher"?

"That you had to get your medicine".

"What? Now everyone's going to think I'm crazy". You huffed with a shake of your head.

"Well. I think Lyida has already told everyone that".

"I'm going to kill her". You growled. Scott stepped in front of you.

"Kidding. Gee, I cant joke around"?

"Not when you're a freshly new werewolf that can't control your anger you can't".

"Okay. We better get back to class". You walked out before Scott and made sure it clear for him to come out.

After school and your little episode all you wanted to do was go home and forget the day. But apparently your wolf self had other ideas. The woods were right in your sight and you had to go in. You strapped on your back pack and sprinted off inside. Leaving the human world and going into something that you had no control over.

"Scott, theres a body". Stiles poked his head threw Scotts window.

"Yeah, I know. It was a werewolf".

"Wait, how do you know that"?

"Y/N. She turned today in class. She was going to attack Lydia".

Stiles fell on the bed. "What? Y/Ns a werewolf? I thought the gene skipped her? She was the normal one".

"Sorry Stiles but you're back in that role". Scott chuckled when Stiles started pouting.

"What are we going to do? She cant go around killing people. Especially not Lydia".

"We need to find her". Scott hopped out his window. Stiles went to the window panting.

"I'll take the stairs".

While Scott and Stiles creeped through the woods, Scott got a wiff of a scent near. He put up his guard and pushed Stiles behind him.

"She's here".

"Where? It's literally pitch black. Oh right wolf senses".

"Scott"? You came into the little moon light that was peaking through the trees.

"What are you doing"?

"I don't know. I remember going home from school and the woods but after that there's nothing".

"You killed someone".

"I did? No I didnt". You shook your head with disbelief.

"Why are you covered in blood"?

You looked down at your clothes, blood and hair covered them. Your mouth had blood and your hands. 

"Who was it"?

"A local criminal". Stiles spoke up from behind Scott.

"So it wasn't Lydia"?

"No why"?

"I dreamt that I killed her".

"You were blinded by the wolf rage. I'll call Derek to come get you". Scott pulled out his phone and called Derek. Stiles walked over to you, picking off hairs.

"Scott"?

"What"? He asked looking from his phone.

"Um deer hairs. Not human".

"What"? Scott walked over and examed you.

"You're not the scent that was on the body. How"?

"So I didn't kill anyone"?

"It seems to be your lucky day". Stiles patted your back making you growl. He quickly took his hands off you.

"You really need to work on the anger". Derek said coming out of the dark.

"Yeah, I know. Only Scott can calm me down".

"Really now? What do you do to calm my little sister there Scott"? Derek crossed his leather covered arms.

"Um..um..nothing". Scott stuttered.

"He kissed her". Stiles squealed on his friend.

"Stiles". Scott scoffed.

"What did I tell you"?

"Now is not the time for that. I'm either a killer or not". You talked over them.

"You're not". Scott and Derek both said.

"She could be". Stiles pulled off a chunk of hair and looked like skin.

"Alright. This is whats happening. No one talks about this again. My sister is not a killer". Derek grabbed your wrist and started walking off.

"Then she needs to control her anger. We cant have her killing people". Scott walked forward.

"I can control her". Derek growled.

"Not your way. I can do it with out hurting her".

"Kissing is not going to keep working".

"It may".

Derek looked at you then at Scott.  "Alright we'll try it your way. If she kills anyone you're taking the fall for it".

"Okay. I'll take care of her".

"Fine. We'll see you tomorrow". Derek pulled you along with him disappearing in the night.

"You just said you'll babysit a werewolf that cant control her anger? Are you crazy"?

"Maybe. But I have you and you've been there for me. So I need to be there for her". Stiles smiled as he hugged Scott.

"I love you man".

"Get off".

Scott and Stiles went home planning out on how they'll keep you calm. Well Scott has his plan, that he'll enjoy alot. Stiles was still worried. You were more angrier than Scott was.