#loves looming over the hoes that man

[jennifersminds]

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES Klaus Mikaelson and Bonnie Bennett

[slasherhaven]

Yay someone writing for Thomas Hewitt! We love it. I'd love to request Thomas Hewitt being so touched starved and pent up that one day, he and his SO steal a moment together in the barn, kissing, touching, humping things are getting heated and he just cums in his pants. The SO is of course very happy because hoe boy the possibilities this opens up and come on, who doesnt love being the reason a big strong man is weak at the knees! But yeah, you're writing is awesome!

Sneaking Away with Thomas in the Barn (NSFW):

The Hewitt residence wasn't always the best place to find some privacy, even when shut down in the basement or in Tommy's room there was always the looming worry that somebody was just on the other side of the wall.

The barn was a decent distance from the house and the others very rarely walked out to it, it's maintenance being more Thomas' duty. That made it the perfect place to sneak a few private moments together.

Thomas had been out at the barn, fixing it up had become a bit of a project for him, and you had hurried through your morning chores to take him some fresh lemonade. Slaving away in the midday heat like that couldn't be good for him, even if he was used to it.

Thomas had smiled when he saw you, blushed under the edge of his mask when you greeted him with a smile of your own and a kiss. He had sat down when you tutted at him for working too hard and removed his mask before accepting the drink you had brought him.

He only really moved his mask around you, Luda May got the honour of seeing his face from time to time but it was mostly removed when it was just the two of you. He didn't even always take it off when he was alone.

Thomas empty the glass quickly, placing it down safely. You had joined him on the haybale he sat on, your legs crossed under you as you chatted about your chores and how your day was going.

"Luda May won't need me until lunch now, wanted to take my break with you," you smiled, moving to sit closer to him. "I missed you."

He had been gone for a few hours. You had woken up together, eaten breakfast, and he had headed out to the barn. It was nearly noon now. It wasn't a long time, truly, but it was true all the same. You had missed your Tommy and he had missed you too.

"Maybe you could take a break too...with me?" you suggested, lifting yourself up onto your knees, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

Of course, Thomas smiled and nodded. Never able to turn down any sort of time with you.

"Nobody's going to come looking for us out here, are they?" you asked, though you already knew the answer. Nobody would care much where you were until lunch came around.

Thomas blushed, so easily flustered when it came to you, when he realised just what you were suggesting. He nodded, hands quickly moving to your waist when you lifted yourself up some more.

His grip on your waist helped you manoeuvre yourself onto his lap, settling down snugly as you cradled his face in your hands and pulled him into a kiss.

Thomas made a low, deep noise in the back of his throat that vibrated through his chest. You hummed, pleased, as you licked the sweet lemonade off of his lips and from his tongue.

It had been far too long since the two of you had managed to get any physical intimacy. Somehow there was always somebody who would end up calling for one of you or banging on the door until somebody answered. It was a privacy issue that never really bothered Thomas until you showed it, it had been normal for him, but now he cherished those little moments of privacy.

It had been far too long and neither of you could help but feel a little frantic, the kiss growing messy as the two of you grasped at each other. Your hands wandered over his broad chest and shoulders, up into his hair, and back down again. Just needing to touch him.

Large hands moved over your waist, squeezing at your thighs and hips. Grasping, tugging you down and forward as your hips rocked of their own accord, making you gasp into his mouth. He was already fully hard beneath you, though you were in a very similar condition.

You weren't sure exactly how it happened but the two of you ended up tumbling off of the haybale, landing in a pile of (thankfully, clean) hay.

Thomas managed to catch himself above you before he could crush you, looking worried and apologetic. You could only laugh before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into another kiss.

Thomas took the hint, you were fine and still very much wanted him to finish what he started. He lost himself in the sensations, in your kiss, in the press of your body against his. And your bodies did press together, he pressed you down into the hay, his body slotted between your legs.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him ever closer. You needed to feel more of him, to shrink the world down to just the two of you.

Thomas groaned as he pressed up between your legs, warm and welcoming. Unfortunately fully clothed. Though, Tommy didn't really care, the pressure was still delicious.

You moaned into his mouth as he rutted against you, almost as if he didn't even realise he was doing it. Dirtily humping you in the bard of his family's property.

You let your hands wander, knowing how much Thomas liked to be touched, made to feel wanted and attractive. He was pressed to close to make any real attempt at removing his shirt, but you groped at his strong arms and back, pressing your heels into his lower back to encourage him.

You lifted your hips until you found a rhythm, matching each of his messy thrusts, feeling him groan into your mouth.

Thomas made a strangled sort of sound as he broke away from the kiss, tucking his face against your neck, his warm breath hitting your flushed skin. You curled a hand in his hair and let out a surprised little moan when his thrusts faltered and his hips jolted, rutting against you particularly roughly.

There were another few jolts and twitched before Thomas' body tensed up above you, holding you down against the hay padded floor. His hips remained flush against yours, cradled between your thighs.

You smiled breathlessly to yourself when you realised what happened. It really had been too long since the two of you had the privacy to be together like this.

Thomas made a pitiful little sound as he peeled himself away from you, sitting back on his knees, looking embarrassed and apologetic. He hadn't finished that fast since your first time together, and he hadn't even gotten to touch you, to please you.

"You okay, Tommy?" you asked, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Thomas just nodded, but frowned as he caressed your cheek. "Aw, Tommy, it's okay," you cooed, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand, "you did so good."

Thomas huffed, not convinced.

"Seriously, Tommy. It's okay. That was...it was kinda really hot," you confessed, surprising him a little. "It's...a compliment, really. That you like me so much," you teased affectionately, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"Made a bit of a mess though," you commented, toying with his belt. "Don't worry we'll get you all cleaned up," you promised, not letting him feel properly embarrassed for even a second.

Though, the whole thing did make you wonder. If you could make him feel like that with just a little grinding on the floor, you wondered what else you could do to him. How much of a mess you could make him. How much you please him and give Thomas everything he deserved.

Thomas sighed again, not looking completely reassured.

"I'm alright, I promise. It's nearly lunch anyway, Luda May will be looking for me," you sighed, matching his disappoint in that area. "You can make me feel good later, I promise."

That seemed to cheer Thomas up a little. He pulled you into a hot kiss before standing and helping you to your feet. He chuckled quietly as he began to pick hay out of your clothes and your hair, making you presentable to return to the house.

[humanitysstrongestsoldier1]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑 |𝑈. 𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐸𝑁 x Reader|Pt. 1

TW: gore, death, manipulation, dark, cursing

AO3 LINK IF YA WANNA READ THERE

Summary:

"Yeah, you can start over, you can run free, you can find other fish in the sea, you can pretend it's meant to be. But you can't stay away from me." - Animals, Maroon 5

In Which╰⋯➤

Rengoku Kyojurou and Uzui Tengen save a girl from a demon and she becomes infatuated with her saviour. She climbs her way up as Rengoku's Tsuguko to get closer and closer to him. Obsessed with the entirety of him, she is willing to fight anyone who gets her way, no matter the cost. Even though there is a fine line between devotion and obsession, and she was willing to cross it.

Further explanation in notes, read them to know (Name) better and more of the format.

~

Notes:

Yokoso, watashi no soul society

jkjk alr, my first time writing yandere, so just tryna improve slowly, see if ya like it.

READ THIS U CRAZY HOES!!!

Backstory: so in this the character aka reader has severe attachment issues because her family and village did not accept her as a scientist. so when she met one of her teachers who finally did accept her, she became obsessed...too obsessed... but before she could do anything, a demon attacked her village...unfortunately the teacher died...and now she wants someone new, someone who can accept her for who she is...someone more powerful...someone more catching to the eye...someone who can love her....

HER THOUGHTS WILL BE IN ITALICS!!!

____________________

She had to flee! She made her way as far as she could away from the god-forsaken village that had spurned her because she was a woman with a good education. Her family had been assaulted and slaughtered by a demon; her beloved teacher was also killed, and it was now pursuing her. Her blood could have been detected from a great distance. The strongest were drawn to her by the aroma of her marechi blood, and she lacked the strength to repel them.

"There you are, a pretty girl! Come on now, don't run away! I’ll make this nice and easy for you." A guttural voice said as he loomed behind her, grasping her shoulder with a heavy force, his claws digging into her.

The girl screamed so loud it shook the ground as she begged for mercy, "PLEASE PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!"

Quickly, a swift form moved across her and harshly tugged the demon away, pushing it into the ground. She opened her eyes to see which god had saved her, and she was met with a large man with white hair adorned in jewellery and gold. In a slash, the evil demon’s head had been cropped off, and her knees buckled at the release of tension. Before she could fall to the ground, a warm body rushed behind her, holding her up by the waist.

"Are you alright, Miss?" A loud, booming voice spoke into her ear, and she immediately straightened her spine and collected herself. She turned to look at the man and saw his beautiful yellow-red hair and forked eyebrows. The tall man with white hair sheathed his blades and came to stand next to the flaming hero.

"Ye-yes! I can’t give enough thanks to you for saving my life! I’m at your will! A favour for a favour." She said this, bowing low to the men in front of her.

"There is no need; it is our job as demon slayers to protect the people! May we know your name?" The man with the forked eyebrows boomed, smiling brightly.

"Ah-yes! My name is (Surname) (Name), and I’m the scientist of the village ahead." She answered, smiling at the two of them in gratitude.

"That name! By any chance, are you the flamboyant, smart one who has been studying the demon cells? I heard your name from Oyakata-sama. You are quite the woman!" The white-haired man replied, his light eyebrows raised.

“Oh, my lords! You two are Hashiras! Yes, I am the same, (Name). It's only been a couple of months since I started, but I hope my work has been helping around the Corps!" She beamed, joyous at the fact that he had recognised her.

He smirked and met her eyes. "It sure has. I’m Uzui Tengen, the Sound Hashira. God of Festivals. Nice to meet your flamboyant presence."

“Oh, I’m not all that." She humbly responded.

"Don’t diminish yourself, (Name)! I’m Rengoku Kyojurou, the Flame Hashira. An honour!" His loud voice boomed throughout the alley, lighting up the darkness.

She lightly chuckled, "I know this may be a lot to ask, but I recently received permission from Oyakata-sama to become a demon slayer. And I was hoping you could take me to someone who may be willing to train me."

Rengoku’s eyes lit up, "BE MY TSUGUKO!"

"HUH?!" She yelled, jumping back a bit at his excitement.

Uzui whipped his head to look at him with utter shock.

"YES! YOU HAVE THE CAPABILITY!" Rengoku said it even louder.

"I-I Rengoku-san, I can't possibly trouble you with that." (Name) was worried at his enthusiasm.

“NO, NO, I INSIST! I SEE FLAMES WITHIN YOU, WITHIN YOUR EYES!" He responded.

"(Name), you can say no. His head is too far up his ass." Uzui intervened, trying to calm her down.

"IT'S A ONE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE! TAKE IT! I SHALL MAKE YOU STRONG!" Rengoku ignored Uzui, keeping his focus and excitement on (Name).

(Name) sighed and thought for a couple of seconds: "I accept your request, Flame Hashira. Please make me strong enough to become someone like you two!"

Rengoku beamed and laughed full-heartedly, his chest moving up and down as his hands rested on his hips. Uzui just sighed and chuckled at his antics before looking at (Name).

He arched an eyebrow. "(Name) your belongings?"

Oh, there's no need; I cherish my research the most, and Oyakata-sama has copies of them, so I’ll be fine!"

He smiles in return and tilts his head, beckoning her to follow them. She grinned and happily followed them, ready to leave behind her toxic village and people for a new life with her saviours. Uzui Tengen noticed her kind smile as he turned towards the rising sun with Rengoku next to him, but what he didn't realise was the wicked smile and dark gleam that had crawled on to (Name’s) face. The look of attraction.

(4 months later)

It's been so long since someone has been able to acknowledge me. I want him. I can't breathe without him. He’s my saviour. My existence. My life. My god. H̸͚̝̙͎͊̋͠e̵̲̹̫͖͎̽ͅ ̶̛̟̲̤̹͙̿͌̊w̴͍̳̝̯̔́͐͋̉͜i̶̩͉̼͆l̵̖̺̓͑l̸̛̗͙͕̉̃̓̇̿ͅ ̵̢̰͐̽̊b̵̡͋́̂̀̍e̴̡̛̛͈̟̭̔͒̂ ̷̗̪̝̇m̵͎̱̈̄̆̚̕i̷̬̞͉͈̩̒̚n̵͚̰̫̣̱͊̒̿͝ẽ̶̻̤̣̩͠ͅ.̸̭̀͗̃͊̚͝

(Name) thought, looking behind Rengoku.

"Oi (Name)! Pay attention; just because you've gotten extremely strong in these past months doesn't mean to slack off and give in! You need to stop zoning out!" Rengoku's strong voice snapped her out of the daze she was in. She quickly stopped his sword, which swung at her, and pushed him away.

"I’m sorry, Kyojurou! I promise it won't happen again!" (Name) profusely apologised for her actions.

"You said that last time too, Starfire. Something on your mind?" Rengoku said, his voice trailing with concern.

“No, I’m fine, Kyojurou, I promise! Let's continue!"

In these months, (Name) has gotten very close with many of the Hashiras and Oyakata-sama. And a certain demon, whom she truly thinks will be critical in the future. She’s even been able to call the Hashiras by their first names. They all love her kind and intelligent soul. Little did they know that the other side of her was as wicked as the devil. Rengoku has seemed to form a very close bond with her during her training as his Tsuguko, and he cares for her very much. Tengen visits every now and then, but due to his missions, he’s not always present. His wives also wish for his presence at their home, so he tries his best to sort his time out.

When (Name) first found out that Tengen was married not with one but three wives, she adorned a shocked expression on her face, but behind that mask lay malice. And that malice was waiting for the right moment to pounce, so she could have him all to herself. After all, he was her saviour, her knight, adorned in gold and jewels. The love of her life accepted and praised her status. He always called her flamboyant and told her to hold her head high. To stand proud. He even said that she was capable of quarrelling with his wives. And since the day he said that, she can’t get the idea of the three of them dead out of her head. Yes, Kyojurou was there that night as well, but it was Tengen who saved her. It was Tengen who killed that demon. It was Tengen who lived in her heart. She had already lost her beloved teacher; she was not willing to lose Tengen. Yes, that one demon had his charms, but she only needed him for his subordinates' demon cells, so she could submit them to Oyakata-sama. But Tengen, oh, he was her soul; he was her reason for living. And (Name’s) love for him was limitless, unbound by the universe’s decree.

"You clearly are not fine! Creating your own breathing form is difficult, and I commend you for your hard work on creating the Breath of Passion, but you need to take care of yourself. You’ve been out of it since Tengen left!" He responded, sheathing his sword and wiping the glistening sweat off of his toned body with a towel.

"I’m really sorry, Kyojurou! I promise I'll keep refining Breath of Passion to its maximum power. I just can’t focus right now; I don't know why." She responded, laying her sword down on the veranda and wiping her neck with another towel.

Rengoku walked up to her and gazed into her eyes before speaking, "Go take a shower; we’ll leave for Tengen’s mansion."

"What?! But, Kyojurou, we can't just go uninvited." She asked, confused by his proclamation.

"The kunoichis invited us last week; they said they were free today and tomorrow. I know you miss him, and so do I, if I'm being fair. Plus, he can also help you with your breathing style. Training and fun! Two birds knocked out with one stone!"

(Name) tried to be very calm, she tried not to show her overexcited emotion to see her saviour again. "Okay. Fine. But I have some business to take care of, then we can go."

"What business?" Rengoku questioned, tilting his head.

Gotta somehow bribe a demon . "Just gotta reserve this book at a library nearby. It won't take long, I promise."

Rengoku smiled and nodded at her answer before kissing her forehead and heading inside. This was nothing new; Rengoku had become very attached to (Name) and truly cared for her as a friend, so his affection consisted of a lot of hugs and kisses. Sighing, she headed inside for a cold shower so she could collect her thoughts and start her plan, which had been dormant for a long time.

(Timeskip-Sundown)

“Do you agree to my conditions, demon?” She asked, throwing the body to him.

"It's either kill or be killed. Plus, you just threw me some nice meat, so I’ll join in on the fun. You're one wicked demon slayer (Name)~ Killing your own kind. By the way, where'd you find her?" The pretty-eyed demon said this while biting into the dead Kakushi’s torso.

"The fuck, if I remember. She was eyeing up my man the last time he was here. Bitch deserved it." (Name) answered, crossing her arms and looking into his eyes.

"You are one interesting woman. You’d do well as a demon, you know; I’ve been trying to convince you for so long. You've got the pretty looks for it too; I should be the one to know. Oh, how I miss your lips on mine. Your pretty little cunt soaking me in. Your cute little voice moaning my name." He smirked, blood dripping down his lips from the meat, eyeing her down.

"Cut the shit Douma. We fucked once." She grumbled, rolling her eyes at his flattery.

"Hehe, twice you mean."

"Tch. I was bored. Just be there and be quick. Remember, just the Kunoichis, no one else. I can’t risk my position here. And leave some of their bodies behind, gotta make an impression here."

Yes, yes, I promise." He grinned.

(Uzui Mansion)

"(Name)! Rengoku-san! Welcome, welcome! Please make yourselves at home!" Hinatsuru said, smiling brightly at the duo.

Rengoku released his iconic laugh and entered the home with (Name) following behind him, both removing their shoes. Hinatsuru looked at (Name) and gave a genuine smile.

Sad. Such a pretty smile. What a waste. Well, not to Douma.

(Name) thought deeply, hiding her rage with a believable smile, which warmed Hinatsuru’s heart. As they delved deeper into the mansion, the smell of inarizushi, ramen, onigiri, gyoza, and dango hit the duo's noses.

"What a feast you have prepared! I’m so excited to eat!" Rengoku beamed while watching Makio wave from the kitchen as she cooked.

Feast huh? Not just for you, Kyojurou, but for Douma as well. 

"(Name)-chaaaannnn!" A loud voice thundered through the mansion. Suma ran down one of the large spiral stairs and launched herself at (Name), hugging her very tightly.

“(Name)-chan, I missed you! We haven't met in so loooong." Suma cried, crushing (Name’s) torso.

"S-sum-Suma I can-can’t br-bre-breathe!" (Name) said while she was trying to get her off.

Suma realised her actions and recoiled back, apologising millions of times, while (Name) forced a smile to her lips, saying that it's okay.

"Such flamboyant noise I’m hearing today! And is that the shining (Name) I see?" Tengen quipped, coming inside from the back veranda garden and smiling at the two of them. His beautiful hair was down, and he was wearing a comfortable yukata.

(Name) immediately brightened up, delighted to see Tengen’s presence again. He walked up to Rengoku and gave him a manly hug, to which Rengoku happily responded. (Name) continued smiling at the two of them—her dear friend and her saviour. Tengen glanced at (Name) and walked up to her, grinning widely, before lifting her up and twirling her around. To keep her balance, she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling at his loving gesture. It had been so long since she felt true joy, and Tengen brought that to her, so she would cherish him, with no one in her way.

"I missed you, (Name)." Tengen said gently, setting her down.

"I’ve missed you too, Tengen." (Name) smiled as she kept her eyes locked on his fuschia-coloured ones.

"DINNER’S READY EVERYONE GO TO THE TABLE." Makio’s loud voice from the kitchen reached them and pulled (Name) out of the trance of Tengen’s eyes.

They all headed to the table, and (Name) tried to sit next to Tengen, but Hinatsuru and Suma were one step quicker, taking both of his sides. She tried to hide her anger, but a small grimace came upon her face, which Rengoku noticed. He gently grabbed her hand and pulled her next to him, the two of them sitting together. She smiled at him, and he reciprocated, showing his bright smile that could light up any room. She didn't realise the angry look in his eyes, which screamed of jealousy. They all sat at the table, digging into the yummy food, to which Rengoku yelled ‘delicious’ many times. (Name) picked up some inarizushi and gyoza and put them on her plate. She saw Tengen take a full plate and wanted to tell him to dim it down a bit. She thought that he would vomit after seeing the bodies of his wives.

"So, (Name), I've heard you have a secret admirer? Someone leaving you sunset-coloured roses by your place? Lord Tengen told us about that the last time he was there." Makio asked, trying to elicit a conversation between them.

"Um yeah. It seems so. I don’t know who it is, but I’m honestly not bothered by it. I have my eyes on someone already, so I don't have time to ponder this so-called ‘secret admirer’. It’s kind of weird, to be honest." She responded, taking a bite of the inarizushi.

Suma gasped, "You like someone?! I want to know!"

Hinatsuru and Makio also agreed to her question, “Yeah, yeah, who is it!?"

(Name) chuckled, taking a quick glance at Tengen, who looked at her with curiosity and said, "Someone you know, but I won’t say. Time will tell."

Groans were heard around the table; they were all disappointed that they didn't get to know the name of the one she loved. Unbeknownst to them, he was already there. Sitting in front of (Name). Her precious saviour. What (Name) didn't realise, however, was Rengoku's frown when she dismissed the secret admirer. They all continued eating and having small talk throughout the hour. Once they were done, (Name) assisted the wives in cleaning up, trying to make a good impression.

"Hinatsuru, Suma, Makio! There is no sake! Rengoku and I are going to head to the town nearby to grab some!" Tengen yelled from the sitting area.

"(Name), go with them. You have a lot to catch up on with Tengen. We’ll handle things here; don't worry." Hinatsuru assuredly smiled at (Name).

"Are you sure?" (Name) asked. Big mistake.

"Yes, I insist, please!" she answered.

(Name) smiled walking out of the kitchen, waving to the three. This would be the last time she would see them, ever…

"Guys! I’m coming with you. The three of them said they got it." She yelled at the two who were by the door. She ran over to them and put on her shoes.

"The more, the merrier!" Tengen said, patting her head.

(Name) smiled at his touch and headed out with them. The night had arrived, and it was quite dark outside. They walked out of the Mansion’s territory and headed for the cluster of lights ahead. As she was walking there, she whistled a tune she was always heard singing. To the two men, it was normal, for Douma, it was a signal. A signal to hunt.

"Let’s head to this store; they always have the best sake!" Tengen said, grasping (Name’s) hand and beckoning the two of them to follow him. Rengoku hummed an approval and glanced at (Name’s) and Tengen’s intertwined hands for a couple of seconds before snapping away and walking with them.

They spent more time than usual due to (Name) idly roaming around the shop, looking at foods and other things. It was enough time for Douma to have his fill. The night was getting older, so the three of them headed back to the mansion, with Tengen holding the sake box. During the walk back, they conversed about (Name’s) new breathing style.

"Why did you name it Breath of Passion?" Tengen asked.

(Name) smiled, looking at him, and said, "The whole idea of passion is so intriguing. The fact that you can love someone so passionately that you go to such extreme lengths is extraordinary. Passion in general is just so powerful."

"Someone’s a romantic, lucky future husband, eh?" Tengen chuckled, attracted to her ideology.

(Name) smirked, lucky you then.

As they reached closer to the mansion, the smell of blood hit her nose, and she smirked.

Tengen and Rengoku stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening.

"Do you smell that?" Tengen asked.

Rengoku hummed, "The smell of blood, it has to be."

(Name) feigned shock and said, "Impossible!"

Without missing a second, the three of them dashed to the mansion. The front area was empty, with no signs of intrusion. The three of them then headed to the back area, where the flower garden was. 

The flowers were splashed with blood. Kunais and blades were scattered across the floor, and a trail of blood was seen.

Tengen stood in a daze, and he buckled and fell, dropping to his knees at the sight before him. Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio were dead…parts of their bodies missing. Hinatsuru lay cold on the floor with a kunai grasped in her hand. Suma was in the rose bushes, her body, pierced with too many thorns. She was missing her arms…And Makio was in the middle of the garden, half of her face chewed off, her legs missing.

Tengen started hyperventilating, clutching his chest at the lack of air, and screaming into the dark night. His voice was laced with rage, regret, and sorrow. Rengoku stood, shocked at the sight that beheld him. Realising that he was unable to protect innocents, a tear slipped his eye. (Name) immediately went to Tengen, who was screaming and yanking at his hair. She hugged his large body tightly and pulled him into her chest. Trying to soothe his broken heart.

"Kyojurou! Send a Kasugai to the HQ right now! Bring the Kakushis and inform Oyakata-sama. This has to be the work of a powerful demon!!" (Name) yelled, looking up at Rengoku, who gulped and ran inside.

"(Name) I couldn’t protect them! I promised I would be there for them! They are dead because of me! I can-I can’t live with myself anymore!" Tengen sobbed, clutching on to (Name’s) shirt.

"No! Don’t you dare blame yourself! Blame the cursed demon that did this! I’m here! Kyojurou is here as well! We are with you no matter what!" (Name) protested, holding him tighter.

Tengen did not respond; he continued shaking and sobbing in (Name’s) arms. Rengoku returned, saying the message had been relayed, and he kneeled at their level. Grasping Tengen’s shoulder for comfort. (Name) buried her face into Tengen’s shoulder, ‘sobbing’. She secretly smirked onto his skin. Joyous, that her plan worked. She would have to thank Douma for that. The three of them stayed like that until dawn, in each other's arms. Promising to not let go, to trust each other, and to protect each other.

(Name) was madly devoted to Tengen, and she would cross any barrier to keep him to herself, no matter the cost.

End Notes:

Yall i loves the wives so much, i would rather join them than rather kill em, but (name) hates sharing so meh

PART TWO!!!!

[thedarkplume]

Being roommates with your best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—especially not when you have to hear him and his flavor of the week going at it through your obnoxiously thin bedroom walls. But it’s better to be his friend than to have your heart broken by being the next in a long line of flings. Isn’t it?

😈

AN: This is for @boxofbonesfic The Monkey's Paw 7k challenge! I loved this prompt, but full disclosure, that 1.5k word limit kicked my ass up and down the street! I had so much fun writing this though.

Warnings: soft!dark!reader, dubious consent, smut, mentions of noncon blood consumption, Bucky being a hoe and Reader not having it, swearing, thigh riding, handjob, oral (fem receiving), voodoo, and potions.

Disclaimer: ...I might not have understood the assignment?

Word Count: 1,499 (I became a certified editor last night/this morning)

i dream at night i can only see your face

Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

You stood in your kitchen, staring at the innocuous strawberry cupcakes dubiously. Cupcakes mixed with a potion from the Book of Loa laced with your blood, courtesy of your sister’s go-to psychic, Clea. The entire affair was ridiculous. Completely stupid.

And yet, you went to Clea’s Psychic Readings that rainy afternoon because you were desperate to find some sort of resolution to Sunday night’s seduction failure. Your stomach churned and tears pricked your eyes. You loved Bucky Barnes. He was more than your best friend and roommate. He was your everything. But Bucky loved her.

Before she came along there was only one drawback to being roommates with Bucky--his one-night stands. Every Friday and Saturday night, he went out and came back with a different person. Sometimes a woman, sometimes a man. Each one more attractive than the last. You did your best to ignore it and pretend everything was fine on Sundays when you binge series with Steve, Bucky’s Corgi, sitting between you, and ordering too much takeout. Only in the darkness of your bedroom when the person Bucky brings home leaves do you grab your vibrator fucking yourself to the memories of Bucky’s moans.

Your tipping point came when he brought her home. Natasha. She was supposed to be a one-and-done, but to your dismay, Natasha spent the night and had breakfast with the two of you the next morning. You tried to ignore the unease you felt watching them joke and laugh with one another and exchange kisses when they thought you weren’t looking. The one-night stands stopped and Natasha remained.

“I can’t explain it, doll,” Bucky said one morning after walking her to her car. “Natasha’s not like the others.”

You knew Natasha was different. Her clothes had a special drawer in Bucky’s dresser. Her makeup and perfume lined the sink in his bathroom. Natasha was different from the others. Even when she was gone her presence still lingered in the home you and Bucky shared.

The Sunday ‘it’ happened, you made all of Bucky’s favorite foods. He picked The Woman In The House Across The Street From The Girl In The Window. It felt like old times, before Natasha and the threat of losing Bucky loomed over your head. You waited until you were both past the point of tipsy and excused yourself. Trembling in nerves and excitement, you changed into your favorite lingerie, crotchless panties, and stockings.

Bucky’s eyes stretched open widely when he saw you. The beer he was holding in his metal hand shattered. “Wha—what’s happening?”

He was still gaping at you when you straddled his lap and put your arms around his neck. “Just doing something I wish I was brave enough to do before.”

“Doll, we shouldn’t.” But he made no attempts to move you off him. You grabbed his flesh hand and brought it down over your ass until he was touching the jeweled end of your plug. “Fuck,” he whispered, throwing his head back struggling to maintain his control. “We can’t.”

“Yes, we can.” You leaned forward to suck and nibble at his jawline. The taste of Bucky’s skin was better than your fantasies. You slowly started to grind your pussy against his thigh. “She doesn’t need to know.” You reached inside Bucky’s pajamas. He was hot and heavy in your hand. You could barely wrap your fingers around him. He closed his eyes groaning as you used the hot dribbles from his slit to slick up his shaft. You wanted so badly to sit on his cock. “She can’t make you feel like this. None of them can.” Whether it was to shut you up or just giving in, Bucky turned to you, kissing you for the first time. You worked your hips faster, feeling like you would come from just the taste of his mouth. His metal hand gripped your hair, pulling your head back so that he could kiss and suck on your neck. “Oh, Bucky! Just like that,” you moaned, working your hand a little faster on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck!” You pulled back to watch the way his back bowed off the couch as he came all over your fingers. You followed quickly, soaking his thigh. But you couldn’t enjoy the afterglow because Bucky grabbed your face, making you look at him. “What just happened can never happen again. I love Natasha and I want to marry her.”

You felt sickened. He couldn’t tell you this before he let you get him off? The rest was a blur. You know you threw up. You might have slapped Bucky. But you vividly remembered crying yourself to sleep.

You successfully avoided Bucky for a week and he was either considerate or cautious enough to keep Natasha away. Steve was constantly by your side, letting you soak his fur with your tears. You were miserable and it was only your sister demanding you get off your ass and visit Clea did you feel something besides anger, hatred, and the burning need to do something.

“There’s someone I love,” you told her. “I don’t want to love him anymore. I want to be free.”

Clea tapped her peach nails against her mug. “No.”

"Excuse me?"

“You don’t want to be free because you don’t want to stop loving him. You want him to love you the way you love him.”

Which was why you were $100 poorer and staring down twelve cupcakes. You wanted Bucky to love you, but you could never live with yourself if you forced him. You had only a second to mourn your lost money before dumping the box of tainted desserts.

Bucky came home a few hours later, surprised, and relieved to see you in the living room. He rushed to your side, holding your hands as he kept apologizing.

“Bucky, please, don’t apologize.” Your nose tingled, signaling the start of tears. “I should’ve been honest with you. I do love you, and I would give anything to be in Natasha’s place. But I’m not and it’s okay. It might take a while for me to stop loving you, but all I want is for you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” Bucky grabbed you in his arms, hugging you tightly. “I brought food from Vicki’s. We can watch another show and put this thing behind us.” Being in his arms again made you wish you were brave enough to act on the violent fantasies you had about Natasha. You picked All Of Us Are Dead on Netflix and split an ultimate nachos plate.

Afterward, Bucky offered to clean up. Your belly full and your heart lighter, you texted your sister. She was NOT pleased you wasted your money and Clea’s time but was mollified when you finally created that Tinder account. You drifted asleep after matching with a 6’6 auburn-haired Veterinarian with gorgeous blue eyes and double sleeve tattoos.

You woke later to a warm, tingling sensation between your legs. You mumbled, moving around to get away and get closer to the feeling. Your eyes shot open as you came with a cry. You panted heavily, propping up on your elbows. You were naked and there was an equally naked man between your legs suckling your clit.

“Fuck, doll, should’ve done this Sunday.”

Frantically, you reached towards your nightstand knocking over your Dasani. You clicked on the lamp. “BUCKY?” you grabbed his face, gently tugging him away from your throbbing core. His mouth and chin were streaked in your cream. “What are you doing?” you whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of you with a squelching pop.

Bucky crawled up your body, your greedy eyes taking in every inch of bare skin. “I can’t hold back any longer. You’re mine and I’m yours.” He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Bucky, wait!”

“I made you wait long enough.” He surged forward, his thick cock sinking inside you, stretching you, for the first time erased your hesitation.

Tears lined your eyes as you met him thrust for delicious thrust. You pulled him down to you, his forehead pressed against yours as he stared into your eyes. Bucky was yours. BUCKY was YOURS. You came undone around him, screaming his name for the neighbors to hear. You spread your legs wider, letting him slide deeper inside you as you clenched rhythmically around him until you felt him fill you up. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and—

You pulled back. “Bucky, did you eat those cupcakes I threw out?”

“Yeah, they tasted almost as good as you.” Bucky pulled out of you, already hard again. He turned you around positioning you on your hands and knees, kneeling to slurp his come out of you. “I love you, doll.” And you would make him prove it by letting you watch him take care of Natasha.

“I love you, too.”

AN: Thoughts???

Tagging: @boxofbonesfic @autumnrose40 @georgiapeach30513 @foxgloveprincess @caffiend-queen @xxindiglow @specialk-18 @jobean12-blog @lookiamtrying @maroonsunrise83 @rustytricycle @fineanddandy @afriendlyblackhottie @thanatosfic @ghotifishreads @vampy-doll @luxeavenger @lotusss-flowerbomb @syntheticavenger @giorno-plays-piano @jtargaryen18 @the-iceni-bitch

[ao3feed-obikin]

Where I End and You Begin

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/42605637 by Sylabelle Obi-Wan was pushing forty, with the date of his birthday beginning to loom over him as if it were some kind of specter. It was a sign, a sign that said he was now entering the period of life where he should statistically be falling into some sort of mid-life crisis as per the norm. Maybe one that saw him buying an expensive car, or dating outside his usual range, or bringing up a new hobby. But as with almost everything else in his life, it was just another thing in his life that signaled it hadn't gone how he had wanted it or expected it to. His mid-life crisis had come at the age of thirty-six, in the form of a muscular, broad-shouldered and long-haired man whose feelings towards him were a tight spiral in which love and brotherly devotion were combined and borderline cannibalistic. ((Because NFx said "Same this au is just so😩😩 someone please take the stage and write more I did my part" and I'm a hoe with insomnia Title is the name of a Radiohead song I enjoy for my... trash. )) Words: 1442, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Incest, Sibling Incest, Possessive Behavior, Obsession, Unhealthy Relationships, Jealousy, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Stalking, Murder, Serial Killers, Power Dynamics, Obsessive Love Disorder, Delusional Jealousy, There ain't no brakes on this shitshow, Codependency, Isolation, Love Bombing, Relationship OCD, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Halloween AU read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/42605637

[grimoireofwritings]

Hi! Could i get a nsfw scenario where William masturbates for one night thinking about his fem s/o?

.......

So here's me, casually appearing randomly from the void to finally post this months later 0_0

I'm so sorry y'all, mental health has been in the gutter lately and suffering from major heart and brain damage at age 21 is just not a fun gig. Nonetheless, I hope this was worth the wait, you thirsty hoes >.<

Warnings: smut, light femdom ( I headcanon William with a lean towards sub )

Scenario: William's female s/o walks in on him jerking off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guilt.

It was all William could really feel in that moment. Well, aside from a general, looming sensation that had been plaguing the poor gentleman for a while now. It made his stomach all fluttery and nauseous with two completely contradicting urges... Which didn't result in a good state to rest in, as he lay propped up on his simple bedroom mattress. It had even prevented him from getting proper sleep lately. One such part of the equation was his complete and utter shame, which replayed punishing thoughts in his mind on repeat... Mentally battling with himself on how wrong it was to think such filthy things about a woman so pure and angelic. A body like that, he could easily imagine it sculpted from marble like the most honored and beautiful of Goddesses in ancient times. Every curve, and the warmth of that soft skin that he could dream of... How could he ever imagine desecrating it? Dirtying it, and perhaps staining it with his intent?

Apparently he could, and he did... Quite frequently. Such horrendously ungentlemanly thoughts popping into his mind had him mortified with himself.

For this reason, he kept his uncontrollably growing desires a secret from his partner. It seemed to him that she was comfortable with their current level of intimacy in their relationship, therefore.. he would remain quiet and allow her to call the shots. It had always been this way, with him considering himself lucky to have her in his life at all, what with a face like his... As well as his history. So he kept quiet, allowing her to make all the first moves so as to not make her uncomfortable. Despite the longing and craving he had for her, and the shame it brought him, he would suppress every last desire, and would never utter a word or clue about it.

It was getting harder however, every passing day. More and more challenging not to notice the lump in his throat when he had to refrain from staring at certain parts of her in particular outfits, and keep his hands from wandering over the perfectly smooth plains of her thighs, or even passionately gripping on to those breasts that took his breath away.

He gave a slight audible whine, there in his bed, tortured by these thoughts popping up once again.. because once they started, they couldn't stop. This time around for some reason it was particularly agonizing to ignore the growing need in his pajama pants, which was legitimately painful to disregard at this point. He'd end up sweating, palms gripping on to the sheets, as he refused to touch himself to the thought of her. Absolutely not... Never.. he could never be so degrading and perverted towards someone who deserved only the highest respect.

Even as he told himself this for the millionth time, the words had been losing their influence that week, and it was at that moment that he caved, giving a strangled whimper of regret whilst his right hand crept under his waistband. From that point on his vision went blurred and brimmed with red, framing pictures in his mind that could only consist of her.

And goodness was that woman breathtaking. He somehow felt starved for a touch he'd never quite experienced before with her... A deep craving as he could practically feel those lips of hers, divine and smooth like rose petals, grazing over his sensitive neck. Would she perhaps moan his name out softly into his ear, as his hands wrapped around her rear to slip a finger between her wetted and ready slit? Yes... Not only could William picture it, but he could almost feel it, too.

Hands, on her velvet skin, squeezing and caressing here and there.. her labored breaths brushing past his cheeks. By this point William had thoughtlessly worked up the courage to start stroking himself, his movements terrified and shaky, slow but gradual. The tortured man could not help himself.. he really couldn't. Despite the fact that he felt like an atrocious person, that previously sick feeling in his stomach was being replaced by mind splitting pleasure.

Warmth.. so much warmth he was feeling down there, in fact it was warm enough now that it was exactly what he imagined her hot, inviting mouth would feel like. This time he let out a soft but much more discernable moan, a couple of lost syllables and stutters rolling off of his lips as he imagined her tongue massaging in place of where his fingers currently were. He vaguely had a couple of thoughts warning him he should stop soon... She'd be back in their shared room any moment now, after finishing up her nightly chores around the headquarters. But he was way too far gone, and foggy in the brain, to give a damn and have the self control to even do so.

Not to mention, the slightest surfacing of precum wasn't helping, given that it added a slight lubricant to the situation and really solidified the illusion in his mind he'd created for himself. His greatest fantasy would be to have her ride him, perhaps..

Absolutely. Just her, in all of her glory, above him and in her rightful place where he could worship and adore from below. The image alone of her hair framing an expression of ecstacy like a curtain, eyes hazy with pleasure all because of him, whilst he allowed his hands to boundlessly wander over every surface of her divinity.. maybe his lips would latch on to her skin and travel down to a breast, all the while drowning in her sounds.. it was enough to drive him mad in the most beautiful way possible.

By that point, poor William Vangeance was too far gone to even notice the barely audible creaking of the door whilst his girlfriend stepped inside their now shared room. A slur of pathetic, whiney mumblings and moans were leaking out into the air for her to hear in utter shock, as well as her name whispered breathlessly to confirm that he was, in fact, masturbating while thinking of her.

"William? What are you doing?"

It was about as sudden as flipping off a light switch. Light to dark in an instant.. except this time it was his voice and his movements. In the dim room, the only light source being a small candle which cast an orange glow on his face, she could make out a look of complete panic, his entire frame completely paralyzed in his position. Had he gone catatonic?

While she had found the display amusing, she was now distracted, more worried about him than anything else. "Love? Are you alright? This isn't very expected of you.." she trailed off, but before she could finish, William snapped out of his trance, causing her to gasp and glance up at the unexpected tone of his voice.

The poor man could hardly form any coherent words in his next jumbled sentences, sometimes the only noticable parts being things like "I'm so sorry for-" and "I will get my things and go out to the front room couch for the night-" to which his partner was dumbfounded by his amount of panic. In fact, William looked to be on the verge of tears, utterly destraught, much to his partner's worry and dismay. However.. she figured she could easily fix this.

Sauntering over to him, she sat beside him on the bed, placing a finger to his lips in an instant to hush him. Leaning forward to speak directly to him, she could tell he thought he was in for a scolding, but what came next had his jaw practically hanging from its hinges in a gape.

"Touching yourself without me here to take care of your needs? You've got some nerve doing my job for me, Captain William Vangeance. I was surprised you hadn't asked me sooner for favors quite like the ones you were probably just imagining.. but now that I know you've been naughty and doing this in your own time, don't expect any mercy from me tonight. I'll prove to you why I'm far more efficient than your right hand. And I'd better not see this again."

She gave a cheeky smirk, completely digging that expression he was wearing. He 100% never would have guessed such lewd words could ever come out of her, and honestly, it already had his entire body lighting up with heat. That confidence from her.. the domineering and sexy edge to her lips, curled into a dark sneer.. it was all blindingly amplified the moment she straddled over him, looming over his body to speak in a low tone towards his ear. "Are you prepared for me to devour you?" She asked.

This was really doing it for him, and he caved, his pent up desire mixing with his excitement and impatience of the moment... Unable to handle the anticipation. As a result, he resumed, feeling already quite close to an orgasm as he frantically jacked himself off with her weight and presence above him. He just... Couldn't wait anymore. And she was too dazzling, too seductive, much too hypnotizing with those devilish words.

"You have the audacity to continue right after what I just said? Bold move, Captain. Either I underestimated you or you're fucking desperate for me. Which one is it? Care to share with me? If you do, perhaps I will let you off the hook... A bit."

"Y-y/n... P-please! L-let me-"

His begs and pleas were interrupted by a deafening, breathless, gasping cry as he came on the spot, a few whimpers following in a perfect sequence as the white hot pleasure seized violent hold of his body, almost aggressive in nature after having been repressed for so long. Panting, he watched his partner witness his helpless and needy state, almost amplifying the experience to a degree.

She was dead quiet, watching with sharp eyes and an intensity in her stare as he slowly came down from the high, body naturally going limp with exhaustion and his breathing evening out. He chuckled sheepishly then, eyeing her with a noticable hint of anticipation and excitement in his gaze, slightly curious if she'd follow through with her previous promise. "B-better to ask forgiveness than p-permission, right?" He tried meekly, biting his lip at that irresistible smirk returning to her face.

"Incorrect" she stated, which set his nerves aflame yet again.

"See... You're the one who wanted me so bad, aren't you? I honestly had no idea... Especially with how shy you are, I was waiting, but it seems you've made me wait longer than necessary. Not to mention, after directly disobeying me, you owe me a couple rounds. Understood? You'll bear with it like a good boy... And I'll be sure you enjoy it too."

There.. that softer look in her eyes at that last statement, despite how perfectly and wonderfully dominant she was - it made his heart melt. William found it very comforting that he didn't have to take charge right away and that she was naturally the one in charge in such an environment - he spent so much time worrying, being afraid, stressing, overthinking, and telling people what to do... That giving up control to someone he trusted was just a complete relief.

"Yes ma'am," he stated, having gained back some composure. "I'll do my best to endure whatever my goddess intends to give me.. please allow me to touch and praise you."

"Good boy," she cooed, encouraging his words of loyalty, as she slowly lowered herself to gently and sensually take him into her mouth to start off. Almost immediately, a tortured cry of overstimulation escaped him, but at the same time it felt completely euphoric.

It occured to William that one of the best nights of his life was about to take place, so he closed his eyes, and placed a hand down on the head bobbing over him.

~end~

[chiwhorei]

may i possibly request owo? (im so sorry askdjfhakd) n e way, can i order villian Deku perhaps? i am in love with that man,,, and may i suggest a knife kink to go along with that? i am so so incredibly sorry i am so horn knee

never miss

pairing: villian!deku x fem!reader (i refrense a skirt and titties, but there’s nothing else gender specific)

genre: drabble, smut(ish), 18+ minors dni

word count: ~400

warnings: knifeplay, could be interpreted as dubcon so i’ll tag it anyway, sexual intonation but they don’t actually fuck

a/n: one small order of villian!deku for the hoes, sorry it’s not that long but i still hope you like it🥺

a cold, sharp laugh crackles against tense air. you feel the rush of cool metal next to your face as a pointed blade sticks into the wall a centimeter away from your cheekbone. you turn your head slightly, eyes scanning the scrawled engraving on the ivory handle.

all for one, one for all.

“i almost got ya’ that time, doll.” izuku stands from his desk, gliding over to where you’re glued against the door jam like the knife had instead struck you right between the lungs.

izuku’s height towers over you, looming and predatory. a once cheery, doe-eyed expression is replaced with jagged scars and anguish. you didn’t know the deku of years past, with spirit and unwavering morality. you didn’t know rising pro-hero deku.

all you know is reptilian tattoos wrapped around tense arms and a hair-pin temper.

every drop of blood in your body is put on ice as he leans down to invade your personal space, his unruly green hair tickles your forehead. You stand your ground as best you can, but lithe fingers snake up the seam of your skirt. “don’t go testing my patience, you know i never actually miss.”

his words shoot straight to a winding coil in your abdomen. You fumble over a response, tongue feeling swollen in your mouth, barring any words from their escape. breath hitching audibly as izuku pulls the silver switch from beside your face, he cackles once more. “no need to play coy, baby doll.”

a warm hand meets your hip, pressing harshly against the skin to keep you in place. he holds you hostage with little effort, pulling the cold metal against a line of exposed skin from your ear to your sternum. he stops at the clothed valley of your breasts, flicking upwards with practiced ease and popping the buttons from their place. the tip of his knife traces the cups of your bra, pressing lightly against the fat to raise an angry, red mark.

the tinny taste of lust consumes you, swallowing you whole and dropping you into the belly of the beast. your only company being the unhinged man before you. izuku’s blade presses against your lips, and you open dutifully. the cold silver presses flatly against your tongue, investigating your open mouth. he wonders how far he can push you tonight.

he loves playing this game, as he always wins.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[brandstifter-sys]

Carry On

Five Times Remus Swept Virgil Off His Feet (and One Time Virgil Returned the Favor)

That's a FOB title if I ever saw one

Word Count: 2927                          (Ao3)

Characters: all sides

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T

Warnings: self-doubt, sex mention, swearing, mild gore mention, undertale references, dc comics references, charlie the unicorn references

inspired by @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes‘ post linked here

One…

Sans. Virgil truly hated this battle, but he was set on finishing this run to get to the true ending the next time around. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him by a punny pile of bones!

He growled to himself as his fingers frantically danced over the keys. He didn't care if anyone came into the common area while he was there, he couldn't afford the stress from his room and everyone knew to stay away from him or else.

Remus was not one of those sides who did what he was supposed to do all the time. So when he popped up in the common area, he didn't think twice about lounging on the couch next to his favorite emo.

"Oh come on!" Virgil snapped at his computer as he lost again. He clawed at his hair and let out a long, agonized groan before flopping back on the couch. His hands were shaking and his heart was racing. He was one more loss away from committing murder.

"Uh oh!" Remus giggled and got up. He closed the laptop and grinned at Virgil as the emo tried to murder him with his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Me? Well I have to make a delivery to the Grand Duke of the Imagination! And you have what I need!" Remus hummed and wiggled his shoulders. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms.

"What are you talking about?" he huffed, ignoring the mischievous twinkle in Remus' eyes. That was a mistake!

Remus swooped down and scooped him up bridal style, laughing at Virgil flailing in his arms and squawking like a gull. He would never drop him out of nowhere! Silly emo could trust him!

"I'm taking you to the Grand Duke so he can spoil you and cheer you up! By any means necessary!" Remus purred and winked, bringing a delightful blush to Virgil's face.

"What the hell?"

"You are my damsel in distress and I don't even have to slay a monster to make sure you're okay—unless you want me to, there's definitely a monster I want to see, in your—"

"No. I am so done with monsters today. Don't even make that joke. Just do what you were planning," Virgil huffed and averted his gaze, no longer squirming to get away. Remus could live with that as long as he could keep holding this tall drink of water!

Two…

Remus was just polishing his morning star when he decided it was a good time to harass his brother and talk about the only thing they seemed to agree on: butts!

He appeared in the common area to the sound of a Disney movie, it would have been perfect, but Roman was not alone on the couch. Oh no, he could clearly distinguish a mop of purple hair next to the prince’s own preened locks. Neither one seemed to notice the duke looming behind them, which was good. Surprising Roman was way too much fun!

“How can you claim this isn’t romantic and charming?!” Roman grumbled as Prince Philip and Briar Rose began to dance and sing in the forest. Virgil snorted and shook his head.

“There’s nothing more romantic than a total stranger in his 20s swooping in and interrupting a 16 year old girl’s furry fantasy without an introduction or asking,” Virgil droned sarcastically. He snickered at the offended gasp that came out of the prince’s mouth and shifted in his seat.

“You wanna pause this and grab some popcorn? My leg fell asleep.”

Before Roman could move Remus struck.

“Hello there! The angel from my nightmares, the shadow in the background of the morgue!” he sang and scooped Virgil into his arms, twirling around with the brightest grin imaginable. Virgil squeaked and clung to him, more out of surprise than fear. He should have seen it coming.

“I think my point stands,” Roman teased, smirking at the pair like a cheshire cat. Virgil shot him a death glare, daring him to say anything more while Remus giggled impishly between verses.

“Perhaps you should take care of that leg and we can continue later. I would hate to rob you of a moment like this!” the prince continued, making Virgil flush and plot his end. Remus laughed and brushed Roman off.

“Looks like I’m the dashing heroic prince today! Better luck next time Hoe-man!” he sang and sunk out for some much needed cuddles. Roman rolled his eyes, ignoring the sleight in favor of appreciating how cute those two could be. Plus he could rewatch his movie without critique!

Three…

Virgil was exhausted. After a long study session for the next video, making sure that Logan knew his lines and keeping Janus from making them take a break, all he wanted to do was fall into a coma. But he was still in the common area and he would have company if he didn't move, but that meant moving. He drooped, letting his limbs hang off the couch, wishing he had the energy.

That was a mistake, and he knew that he would regret it. Especially when something slimy glided up the back of his hand.

"Gross," he grumbled, not bothering to look at the culprit. Remus giggled and licked his hand again before kissing it. He got off the floor and on one knee, smiling at his emo.

"You know you love me!" he teased and brought Virgil's hand to his lips again, "You're like my personal damsel in distress and I just love saving you and making you feel like a princess!"

"I'm not a damsel, just tired. Can I take a nap in peace?"

"Not out here, Scare Bear! You know it gets crazy with the others around!" Remus giggled and scooped him up without any struggle.

"If you take me to your dungeon to do horrible things to me in my sleep, make sure I have both kidneys intact."

"No promises, Charlie!" Remus teased and resituated Virgil so he could rest his head on his shoulder, "But I can promise you a comfy bed and the best snuggle buddy ever!"

"You're bringing Winary? Hellhounds don't make for great cuddles. They stink of brimstone," Virgil mumbled against his neck.

"Nope! You get to cuddle with a stinky dukey!" Remus countered and walked towards his room with his precious cargo.

"I'd rather cuddle with you," Virge mumbled and curled into Remus' chest.

"But I am a stinky dukey!" he said, fighting back the urge to squeal. Virgil huffed and wrapped his arms around Remus.

"I like your scent. It's comforting, like a puppy that likes mud."

"You Sir are exhausted!" Remus declared, "And you are taking a long nap with me so you can get that snark back!"

"You better be there when I wake up," Virge answered, barely able to keep his eyes open. Remus was happy and he was sure to be there the whole time.

Four...

"Virgil, you can't just call Remus every time something mildly inconvenient happens. He's not your footman," Janus huffed as Virgil curled into himself. He was going to summon Remus for a good reason. It wasn't his fault that the duke showed up every time he stubbed his toe!

"I know that, Snake-face," he huffed, "I don't actually summon him when they happen. He just knows."

"And you do nothing to stop him. It's not good for you to be dependent on him for everything. There's a fine line between self-care and sinking into bad habits."

"I'm not sinking into bad habits, Janus. I'm fine with being toted around if it makes him feel like he's being heroic instead of a villain."

Janus sighed and shook his head. Virgil had a point, Remus needed to feel wanted and needed. And who better to provide that for him than Virgil? Remus adored him!

"And I want him to show up right now," Virgil mumbled and hugged his knees. His skin was crawling and he was freezing. Was it too selfish for him to want to have Remus hold him and keep him close? Was he taking advantage of Remus wanting to be someone's hero? Was he even good enough to get that kind of attention from the duke?

"Remus!" Janus called out, rather than sit by and watch Virgil spiral. He sank out at the same time Remus appeared.

Remus got one look at Virgil and immediately pulled him into his arms. Virgil melted into him and let out a contented sigh.

"Scare Bear!" Remus cheered and spun on his heels, "My spider sense was tingling! What's wrong, Bitter Sweetie?"

"I just need some creature contact," Virgil grumbled, "and you're the most comfortable creature I know."

"So no slaying your demons or disemboweling anyone?" Remus giggled and dropped Virgil on the couch before flopping on him. Virgil shifted and wrapped his arms around Remus' waist.

"Nah, just don't leave. I need a Cuddlefish."

"And you got me for as long you want!" Remus giggled and nestled his head under Virgil's chin.

"You're gonna be here for a while," Virge hummed and soaked in the warmth Remus provided.

"I don't mind," Remus said, "I like it here!" And that was an understatement.

Five…

Remus was just going to the kitchen for a snack—he had some prairie oysters with his name on them! But he paused in the middle of the hallway when he saw Virgil on a step ladder, painting a wrought iron fence mural over his door. He was so focused, so pretty, Remus had to stare.

"You know, creeping on someone who's on a ladder is considered a bad idea."

"Do I look like the guy who has good ideas?"

"No, I should know better, you like me."

"No talking bad about yourself!" Remus growled and loomed closer.

"Oh, that's not what I meant. I mean you like the one guy who can kick your ass and you keep calling him a damsel. Last I checked, I saved you from the Dragon Witch twice this week alone."

"It was hot!" Remus agreed as Virge bent over to get more paint on his brush, carefully holding onto the wall, "But that doesn't mean you can't be a damsel too! You're like Dick Grayson—perfectly capable of kicking ass, but also very much in need of some saving every so often! Plus I think you'd make those shorts look good! Almost as good as I'd look getting into them!" Virgil jolted away from Remus as he was getting up again and lost his balance.

It felt like forever, falling backwards with nothing to grab onto. He was sure the impact would be annoying, but not terrible. If he were any higher up his instincts could have easily taken over and he wouldn't land on his back. But that impact never came. Instead he landed in a pair of strong arms.

"I knew you'd fall for me and my feral mojo!" Remus giggled down at him. Virgil stared at him for a second before swiping his paintbrush over Remus' nose.

"Sure, Puppy, you tell yourself that," Virgil said with a smirk, "It's not at all because you had the audacity to call me Dick Grayson when I'm more of a Jason Todd."

"You're more of a hottie who needs to snuggle with me after that kind of fall!"

"You really need to consider just asking like a normal person," Virgil jeered and kissed his cheek.

"Why would you ever consider that? Boring! You need some excitement in your life and that's where I come in!"

"I thought you came in—"

"Dirty jokes are my job!"

"I thought you came in like Peter Parker on a wrecking ball. Chaotically trying to save me from every mild inconvenience," Virge reiterated and wrapped his arms around Remus' shoulders before kissing his cheek again. Remus was a happy boy.

And then...

It was just perfect! Remus was so excited to finally have a gift for Patton that he would like! He appeared in the common area in the kitchen, just out of sight of the duo watching Looney Toons. Patton and Virgil were in for a treat!

He set Fluffy on the floor and motioned towards the couch. The little thing sprinted off in a pale pink blur and Remus waited for the cooing and squealing from Patton.

His heart shattered when all he heard were horrified screams coming from the father figure. He sank out to his room and fought the urge to cry. Fluffy would be able to get back to the Imagination without him.

Virgil paused the show and watched Patton scoop up the hairless cat with tears in his eyes.

"Look Virgil!" he cheered and held up the cat like she was Simba, "A kitty I can pet!" Virgil blinked twice, confused as to how a cat found her way into the commons. That's when he spotted the green collar around her neck and the silver tag hanging from it.

"Can I keep her Virge?" Patton pleaded as Virgil checked the tag. He had a hunch that Fluffy was meant to be with Patton.

"You're asking me?" he jeered and got up, "Let's find the guy who made her and ask him. I'm pretty sure Remus set her loose to find you."

"Remus? He made this little angel?" Patton gasped and cuddled her to his chest. She purred and kneaded his hoodie, getting him to squeal again.

"I'll go get him, and let you two get to know each other," Virgil said with a half-smile. Patton beamed and him and sat on the couch, cuddling his new best friend. Virgil sank out before the cuteness became sickening.

But any mushy feelings faded when he appeared in Remus' room. Amid the weapon racks and canopic jars, Remus was curled up on his bed, hiding his head between his knees.

"Octopuppy?" Virgil asked softly and sat next to Remus. The duke looked up at him with his makeup running down his cheeks.

"Scare Bear?"

"What's wrong?" he asked and brushed a stray piece of hair from Remus' face. Remus shook his head and let out a ragged sigh.

"I can't make anything good."

"Your dog is not gonna be happy to hear that."

"She's a hellhound with three heads. She's not good or normal. But she's a good girl," Remus grumbled and wiped his eyes. He was not about to cry again. Virgil coaxed Remus into his lap and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"What makes you think you can't make anything good?"

"I made a cat for Daddykins and I really tried to make her perfect for him. But he screamed at the sight of her. You know, you were there," he pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie. Virgil pouted and held him closer.

"Can I show you something?" he whispered, "Something that can prove you can make something good."

Remus nodded and clung to Virgil as he stood. The emo cradled him to his chest and smiled down at him.

"Looks like you're my damsel this time," he teased and sank out, adoring the blush that crossed Remus' face.

They appeared in the common area kitchen to the sounds of giggles and cooing. Remus looked to Virgil for answers only to get a smirk in return.

"Hey Pat!" Virgil called out and carried Remus into the next room. Patton was curled up in his hoodie, using the string to play with Fluffy. Remus had never seen him so genuinely happy.

"Virge!" he cheered, only to coo at the sight of the gruesome twosome.

"I found Remus, so go ahead and ask."

"Remus, can I keep Fluffy? Please? I'll take good care of her! I promise!"

"I made her for you, so yeah, of course you can," Remus answered, completely stunned. Virgil knew that tone all too well. He had only a matter of seconds before a tsunami of feelings crashed over the duke. He would need cuddles.

"Thank you so much Remus!" Patton squealed and hugged Fluffy, "I'm gonna show her my room!" He sank out, leaving the pair to claim the couch.

"You good, Pup?" Virgil asked and hugged the duke, leaning into the cushions. Remus nodded and nuzzled into his chest.

"Good, because right now you're stuck cuddling with me until my legs fall asleep," Virgil mused and kissed his head. Remus shuddered and his breathing hitched.

"I did good," he whimpered, "I finally did a good and made a good thing."

"Finally? Remus, you make a good thing every day—you make me feel loved. You're my knight in slimy armor."

"That's just cuz I love you."

"I love you too, and I think it's only fair that I get to be your dark knight for a while. Because it's okay to need a little help, even if you don't think you deserve it."

"Who taught you that psychiatry crap?" Remus pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie so no one would see him crying.

"You might know him, he's a wily little imp with a lot of passion, a flair for the dramatic, and macabre tastes. He's a handsome sweetheart and don't even get me started on his butt."

"He sounds like a pain in the neck!" Remus giggled.

"Only if he bites," Virgil snickered, "and he's my hero. So don't you dare try to talk shit about the Grand Duke of the Imagination."

Remus giggled and clung to him. He couldn't ask for a better boyfriend and he was pretty sure he didn't want to either.

[putas-in-suffering]

Mmmmm, how about a brat tamer with bish, we know that man would gladly mark you up for misbehaving💅🏿

Sucias! We’re steadily working on some hoe ass content for you guys. We’ve got lots of original ideas that we’ve been playing with and we’ve also gone through some old requests in our inbox that hit that inspiration just right. Requests are still closed. But we didn’t think you’d mind if we went ahead and gave you all the smutty goodness. So we got a doozy here for all you Bishop freaks (it us). 

Read on to see just how Bishop gets his brat in line...

You pouted in your seat next to Bishop, impatiently waiting for him to finish his conversation so that you could go. A party was taking place around you. There wasn’t a special occasion. The boys didn't need one. The clubhouse was full of people and while you were normally down to partake in the night’s activities, an incident from earlier had turned your mood sour. 

It was about an hour after you’d arrived. The music was flowing, a cloud of smoke engulfing the room as everyone drank with enthusiasm. You’d stepped away to get a refill for Bishop on his beer when a woman you’d never seen before saddled up next to him. She was obviously new. Being El Presidente’s old lady meant that you’d seen every face that came through this place. Hang arounds and club girls. The ones who knew the rules and abided by them got to stay. The ones who didn’t got thrown out on their ass. It was the way of the MC world.

You had watched as she trailed her long hot pink nails over his arm, her eyes zeroing in on the President’s patch on his leather. She was eager and thirsty for clout. Desperate. And that vibe never lasted long with the men in the clubhouse. It was unattractive and incompatible for the lifestyle they led. A woman had to have her own shit when dealing with a Mayan. Their time was valuable. You couldn’t expect to have him at your every whim. Plus they all liked a little chase. Including your man. You may have been together for awhile, but you kept him on his toes and he loved it. You both got off on it.

Which is why you weren’t surprised to see Bishop brush her off and point her away from him. She’d looked crestfallen and you’d almost felt bad for her. You’d never questioned Bishop’s loyalty. But persistent women made your blood boil. They didn’t have respect for what was so clearly owned by another. There was a hierarchy and you were at the top when it came to the women of the club.

You were ready to let the whole thing go, pleased to see that your boyfriend wasn’t at all interested. But instead, the woman made one last ditch effort by grazing her fingertip over his bearded lips with a pathetic excuse for a seductive smile. 

You saw red.

Bishop yanked at her wrist and barked at the prospect to get the bitch out of there. His eyes had found yours, knowing you’d seen the whole thing. You knew better than to cause a scene. He was handling it. So you stayed rooted to your spot, cold and stoic as EZ hauled her out of the clubhouse.

Bishop came to you immediately and he could see the anger in your eyes. You assured him you were fine, but the party was over for you. He’d insisted you both stay, unwilling to let the moment be ruined.

That was forty-five minutes ago and you were still stewing. You’d tried to entice him into leaving, batting your lashes like you knew he loved. He’d brushed you off. The action made you seethe. Images of how he’d dismissed the bitch before made a sour taste settle onto your tongue. He was not about to ignore you like you were some whore.

You tried again, leaning into his side and whispering into his ear.

“Bishop...let’s go home, baby” You purred, letting your tongue gently caress the shell of his ear.

His brown eyes became dark, his mouth set into a firm line as he looked at you. His hand made its way to your thigh, gripping the flesh harshly.

“I told you. We’ll leave when I’m ready. So shut the fuck up and do as I say, querida.”

An icy chill ran down your spine. You sneered at him, letting him know you heard him but you weren’t at all happy about it. Something had him agitated tonight. And while you were used to dealing with a moody Bishop, you were not cool with being rejected like a random puta.

“Fuck you.”

His face became stone as he registered your words. You were both speaking in low tones, but the tension was obvious. You removed his hand from your thigh and stood, leaning forward to grab the car keys from the pocket of his leather. He didn’t move. He let you do as you pleased as you snatched the keys and walked away from him. You headed for the door, intent on leaving his ass behind.

The summer heat enveloped you as you made your way down the clubhouse steps outside and towards Bishop’s truck. You pressed the button to unlock it, watching as the lights lit up in response. You’d just gotten your hand on the driver’s side door when someone jerked you from behind. You were spun around and pushed against the the vehicle with a brute strength that let you know who it was immediately.

Bishop boxed you in with his arms as he pinned you with a glare. You matched his anger, unwilling to bow down to his dominance this time.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going? Huh?” He rasped as he gripped your chin and forced you to meet his now black eyes.

“Home. Like I said an hour ago.”

“You don’t disrespect me like that. You know better.” He bit back, fingers tightening their hold on your chin.

You winced against the pain and jerked away, pushing his body away from yours.

“I’m not doing this with you right now.”

You went to leave, but once again he stopped you. This time he dragged you by the arm to the back of the truck where the truck bed was open. The tailgate had been left down from unloading cases of beer earlier in the night. He forced you back, making the edge of the tailgate dig into your lower back.

“Is this about earlier? Is that what’s got you so fucking twisted up?”

His breath collided with yours as he loomed over you. He narrowed his eyes and you could see he was trying to read your face, searching for a motive.

“You think I like coming here and seeing some whore rub herself all over you like a bitch in heat? Do you think that’s fun for me, Obispo?”

He looked away, gaze taking in your surroundings to ensure no one was around. They weren’t. You were alone in the muggy night.

“I told you I was sorry. I threw her out. What else did you want me to do, huh?”

His tone softened ever so slightly, but his eyes were no less intense. You may be justified for your anger, but your disobedience wasn’t excused.

“How would you feel if I let one of the guys manhandle me? Let Angel squeeze my ass? Or let the prospect brush up against my chest? Would that be fun for you?”

With every word you spoke you could see the vein in his neck throb. His jaw clenched, his hands now balled into fists at his side. You were walking a very dangerous line. You knew that. But his reaction was giving you the pleasure you‘d been seeking. It was gratifying.

“I’ve seen the way some of them look at me. Maybe I should-,”

Bishop’s hand struck fast as he gripped your throat and applied pressure. It wasn’t enough to cut off your air supply, but it had the desired effect of silencing you.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled out. He almost sounded more beast than man and your insides warmed at the thought.

Your body reacted to his anger instantly. Your nipples hardened despite the warm air of the evening. Your thighs twitched, your pussy already pulsing with need. The thrill of his anger and aggression made you wet instantly. It wasn't what you’d intended to happen. You’d been seriously upset and frustrated with Bishop. But your body knew him too well. And it was attuned to him by instinct rather than sheer will.

“You’re pushing your luck tonight, princesa.” He warned, his lips edging closer to yours. His free hand roughly cupped you through your jeans, forcing you onto your tiptoes. 

He could clearly see the reaction your body was having to him, and he was manipulating it to his liking. He got off on taming you. Just like you got off on rebelling against him. It was a demented tug of war that neither of you planned on losing. 

“You just love to act up, don’t you?” He crooned against your neck, bearded lips grazing over the sensitive skin. 

You shivered, unconsciously widening your legs for him to better maneuver against you. You pushed your chest out in invitation, daring him to touch you there. 

“I’m not the one who let a disrespectful cunt touch what's mine.” You retorted. The attitude was thick; the bite in your words apparent. 

He leaned back, lips quirked into a smirk at your brazenness. He was amused. And turned on judging by the hard muscle pressed against your stomach. 

“You know better than to doubt me. If I wanted whore pussy I’d have it. But instead, I put up with you.” 

His words and tone were ugly, but his body rubbed sensuously against yours. He thrust his hips into you, his hands now toying with the button on your jeans. 

“So, I’m gonna remind you of that, baby. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my fucking name.”

Your pussy contracted around nothing, so incredibly aroused by his words alone. You remained unmoving as he unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, hands pushing the fabric down your legs. He pulled you in for a kiss, but immediately retracted when he felt the sting of your teeth bite at his lip.You smirked when he touched the appendage and a spot of red dotted the surface. 

“Fucking brat...” He cursed as he grabbed you by the back of your neck and nearly collided his face with yours. “Lick it off.” 

You stared at him with disdain, but did as he said. Your tongue licked the spot of blood from his bottom lip. The tang of iron hit your tongue and you savored the taste. 

In an instant you were forced away from him, facing the open bed of the truck. 

“Bend over.” 

You had no choice. His hand pushed you as he tore at your panties and exposed you to the open air. His belt clanged as he released himself from his dark denim confines. His cock rutted against your ass, the flesh seeking out the wet heat of your overflowing pussy. 

“Stick that ass out like I know you can.”

You lowered the upper half of your body, supporting yourself on your arms. The angle allowed your ass to meet his crotch, your glistening lips visible even in the darkness. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone whose pussy stays wet for me.” He taunted as he rubbed the head of his cock at your entrance. 

You bit your lip to keep the moans at bay, both out of stubbornness and need for privacy. He teased you mercilessly. Dipping shallowly into your depths before retreating. You tried to follow his touch, but he kept you still.

“Say it.”

You knew what he wanted. And although you were fighting for control, it was obvious you were losing. So you gave in.

“Daddy...” 

He plunged into you in the next instance, hips flush with your ass. You attempted to grasp for purchase against the bed of the truck, but it was useless. Bishop’s hips set a punishing rhythm. Your body barely had time to clutch at him before he was pulling out. His grunts were like another set of hands, working you closer to that proverbial edge. 

“Fuck...” He groaned, letting his cock hit deep within you. He stayed still for a moment, feeling the hold your walls had on him. “Your pussy is tight. And just for me. Right, baby?”

“Yes...”

His calloused hands spread your ass, no doubt entranced by the way your body accepted him. He landed a harsh slap to your right cheek, enjoying the way your pussy squeezed him in response. 

“She wants to cum, querida. She knows who she belongs to.” He provoked, a finger sliding down between your bodies to assault your clit. 

The submission came naturally. Your body surrendered to his touch, your mouth unable to form words as the climax that’d been building finally swept over you. You could only squeeze your eyes shut and pray that Bishop held you up because your joints locked, your knees ready to give out at any moment. He fucked you through the chaos, continuing to work your clit as tears stung your eyes. 

“Shit, that feels good.” He praised as your pussy gripped him so tight you were afraid he’d become locked inside of you. His pace began to falter as he fucked you hard enough that the tailgate nearly cut into your skin. And you barely had a chance to come down from your high before he was experiencing his own. 

Warmth coated your insides as he filled you. His fingertips dug into your hips. His chest collapsed against your back. Ragged breaths filled your ear as he struggled to calm his racing heart. 

It felt like hours had passed, but in reality it had only been seconds. Bishop carefully moved off of you, hissing as he eased himself out of your sensitive walls. Despite your exhaustion, you pushed your backside up and out for him to  take in the sight of your overfilled cunt. 

“Jesus, I’ll never get tired of seeing this.” 

He ran a long finger down your slit, smearing the cum that had leaked from within. You jolted at his touch, still too sensitive. He pulled you up and around to face him, tapping your lips with his coated finger. You dutifully opened your mouth, sucking the mixture off of him. The savory sweet taste of you both exploded in your mouth. He caressed your cheek lovingly, the warmth seeping back into his eyes. 

“You know I love you.”

You nodded, too tired to argue anymore. 

“So don’t treat me like I don’t. Okay?”

“Okay.” You acquiesced, bending down to pull your jeans back up your legs. Your panties were torn and discarded nearby. There was no salvaging them. 

Bishop adjusted his own pants, buckling his belt back up as he watched you closely. You let him pull you in for a kiss, your mouths dancing against each other tenderly. 

“Let me tell the guys we’re heading out. And then we can go home.” 

You returned the smile he sent you and nodded, watching as he made his way back inside. You walked to the passenger side and got in. Your eyes caught the glow of the dashboard clock, triggered by the unlocking of the vehicle. It’d only taken you fifteen minutes to convince Bishop to take you home. Of course, he’ll see it as his idea. He’ll think he fucked you incompetent, but you knew better. You weren’t new at this game. If you wanted something, you had to set it in motion. And you’d done just that. 

At the sight of Bishop walking back down the steps, you smiled. He winked at you in return. 

Who says being a brat doesn’t pay off? 

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[laketaj24]

Henry Cavill :) + 29 and 30 from Fuck prompt please (I'm a hoe for him, I can't help it) lol

Make Me: Henry Cavill

Author’s Note: I am also a hoe for him. I feel like our thirst is pretty equal lmao! Thanks for the request love!! It’s a drabble but I wanted him to bend the reader over and make her think twice about being a brat.

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Bratty!Reader

Was this the day to be a complete brat to Henry? He’d ignored you all day, working with his trainer. All you wanted was some fucking peace and then to be fucked in that order precisely. But that didn’t happen. Henry and the muscled mild-mannered trainer stayed in the gym lifting weights with unimaginable parts of their bodies. You could not deal; you struggled to grip the 20lbs bar without making a damn scene.

Henry grunted, your stomach twinged in excitement. That sound alone ignited some primal instincts in you. He lifted the bar again, and you stood and watched, mouth dry and legs clenched with excitement. “Are we almost done?” You whined. You were drenched in sweat, and you’d gone thirty minutes passed what you planned just to see your man lift the dumbbells over his head. Thirsty, maybe. Was he blessed, certainly.

“I have three more things to do. And then cardio.” He breathed deeply. “You can go, and I can meet you at home.”

“I don’t want to go home alone, Mr. Cavill. I want to go home with you.”

“Then you should take a seat and wait.”

“Henry. How much shit do you have to do a day? Let’s go.”

Henry wiped his face with the white towel; his hair rung wet with sweat from the workout. And his pants were making you even more upset he wanted to stay in this place another hour. “Are you seriously going to stand there and be a little brat?”

You rolled your eyes. “And if that’s what I want to do?”

“Then, you can carry yourself home, and I will handle you later.” His eyes loomed over you with a glimmer of lust, and then rest was anger. “Go.” He waved and sipped his water.

“Come over here and make me.” You said.

Henry’s face reddened as he looked to his trainer, who had obviously taken the hint. He walked towards the door with hands up and repressed look of annoyance. “You better watch your mouth.” He warned.

“Or What?” Your eyebrow cocked, and Henry bit his lip, suppressing the growl that wanted to push through. He made his way over to the door pressing some white button that frosted the glass, and then he locked the door.

“I’ll be getting my cardio sooner.”

Why were you grinning? You’d clearly crossed the line, testing him and then teasing him to punish you. You were begging for it, well, you weren't begging for it yet. You could hear your breath quicken when he made it over to you. “Hi.”

“Why do you like testing me?” He smirked.

“The consequences are worth it.” You kissed him back, and his hand came down on your ass. “Should I count?” You laughed.

“Spoiled, I swear.”

[adulttrio-imagines]

“I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest” One of the Adulttrio your pick. I’m an angst hoe

The first time you see her, it is two in the morning and your first time in bed together.

It is only a shadow of a silhouette, looming oppressively over your shoulder as Chrollo drapes an arm over your waist. She disappears as soon as your strangled yelp interrupts your kiss, the smell of something distinctly floral wafting in the room.

She sits in the living room, just at the corner of your eye, disappearing as soon as you turn, the rushing of waves ringing in your ears.

She’s there against the wall, boring holes into your skull as Chrollo plants kisses along the nape of your neck, and the air becomes so salty it forces you to squint.

She visits in chunks, appearing for days on end and disappearing for months at a time, leaving with her the scent of the sea and jasmine blossoms in her wake.

There never is anyone there, you never truly see her, you doubt she truly even exist. But you feel her presence in every hidden laugh, every longing touch, every smile you shared, and you know that she is real.

And each time she appears, Chrollo’s eyes grow blanker, his touches more draining, and you start tasting her even in his kisses.

“This isn’t normal.” You say one day.

“But maybe it is,” He smiles gently, and the shadows the moonlight casts starkly contrast his pale face, his lips twisted into a simple smile, “maybe that’s just how things are meant to be.”

You shake your head, “You don’t love me.”

He chuckles, the implied mocking rattling your ears. With practiced familiarity, he pushes a strand of flyaway hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You are after all, his silly little doe, too caught up with their own emotions to think straight.

“Of course I do, why would you think otherwise?” He lies as easily through his teeth as he breathes. The usual casual grin spread across his face that accompanies this making your stomach churn, and the strength of which you grasp his hand with could crush bone.

“Stop playing these games. There’s someone else, isn’t there? Don’t lie, I feel her too.” You stop him before he could reassure you with more false reassurances. He slides his hand away from you, and his blank face is the response you need. As he stares coldly down at you, grey eyes calculating and cold, the mask he wears is shed, and only a stranger is left.

“What I have, what I am, what I can give… It’ll never be enough, would it?”

He looks away, and the expected sigh that rolls of his chest doesn’t hurt any less than empty gaze he adopts when you’re speaking, the glazed way he stares of into the distance whenever you hold his hand, or the cold frown his mouth twists into whenever he is inside of you and think you wouldn’t notice. Every single laugh, every act of kindness, you peeled back the layers of deception and it all fell into place.

The faint wafts of jasmine drift past and the feeling in your chest blooms in ways that expands and fills each hidden crevice of your heart, and you simply just cannot believe this. You have had your fair share of lost loves and fractured relationships, but this?

Cruel laughter bubbles at your throat, your mirthless laughter burning the night air, yet your pleasure at his slightly alarmed look does not soothe the ugly beast threatening to crawl its way out of you. You extend a single accusatory finger in his direction.

“Chrollo Lucilfer, you’re a man suffering from heartbreak.”

“I’m not.” He murmurs, barely audible even in the dead of night.

“You are.” The frown he makes with pursed lips remind you of sour cherries.

“I’m not.” You push, tasting the hint of sweetness even as the sourness consumes you.

“You are.” He stands up.

“I’m not.” He repeats those words with such confidence that your resolve waver, “you’re wrong.”

You get to your feet, soles thudding heavily against the plain wooden boards as you storm towards him and grab him by his collar, forcing him to look down into your eyes,

“Do you think I don’t taste her when we kiss? Or see her in your dreams? It’s in everything you do.” Each shout feels like an arrow to the head, and the feeling in your chest releases its explosion, “You are drowning in it, Chrollo. It’s all around you, like a storm that won’t stop, and every time we touch, I see her too. So don’t you even dare deny it!”

He slaps you hard, right across the face. It is the first time he’s ever lashed out at you, let alone physically assault you. Gingerly, you paw at your nose, and the dark shade of red that drips from your nose shocks you less that the fact that for once, he finally dropped his mask.

Immediately he is before you, crouched down to your crumpled form as he gently cups your chin in his hand and tilts you head up.

“You don’t know anything about me. So don’t ever put words in my mouth again.” There’s a coldness in his voice, an unfamiliar harshness from the detached way he brushes your cheek. Far away, you hear the distant crashes of the ocean.

You lean into his touch, battering your eyes, sneering when he curls his lip in disgust. “Do you miss her? Do I remind you of her?”

He squeezes your jaw so hard you hear a pop, the blood from your nose dripping in steadily down his fingers.

“Does it really feel that good to lie all the time?”

His hands tremble, ever so slightly, and your eyes water when they meet his. You love his eyes, endless depths of liquid silver that shine with intelligence. But staring into those dark, hurtful pits now, you cannot help but to simple fall apart.

He lets you fall to the floor, eyeing you with the same empty look he gives whenever you both kiss. It’s late, you just want to drift into the unknown and let all of this just float away and kept tucked away permanently at the back of your mind.

“It’s not enough isn’t it?” You ask, closing your eyes.

“No, it isn’t.”

Just as suddenly, he pounces on your like a starved beast, pushing you against the floor and whispers six simple words into your ear:

“But we can make it be.”

You smell salt and something indescribably sweet when he forces his tongue against your lips, patiently coaxing them open. He brushes against them, once, twice, fingers roughly carding themselves through your hair as guides your tentative hands to entwine themselves around your neck. And you think you see her too, a perfectly frame face with delicate eyes and plush lips, it’s not difficult to see why he cannot move on. Eye lashes fluttering with tears, you ignore the drying blood trailing your face and let out a whimper when he bites down hard on your bottom lip. It does not take long for you to reciprocate his feelings, and the guilt that overwhelms your senses taste just as bitter as you had always assumed.

Even when he’s holding unto you as though his life depends on it, you smell her perfume and eye the shadow of her imprint lying across his chest.

His heart belongs to another.

But he is grinding against you desperately, pawing at your breast as you slowly shed of your shirt, trailing a line of kisses along the curve of your jaw.

He does not love you.

Yet he is panting, nipping at your collarbones as he rushes to grip your hips, forehead resting on yours.

You cry out, partly out of the pain when he finally pushes himself into you, partly because of the hurt that lodges a deep crack in your heart.

And that is alright.

He grabs your hands, fingers curling around them. You cannot help but be mesmerize by how pale they are, how soft they feel, or how they easily envelop your whole hand. You return his grip, fiercely and fight back your sob.

It was inevitable.

With only a fistful of empty promises and filthy desires, filled with useless efforts only you can do, you wait, simply drowning in the shadow of his touches, the lonely ghost of lost love continuously waltzing in repetitive steps as you return to uncovering your hearts and baring each layer of your soul to sing your lamentations, lying to yourself that this was what you want, and what you both needed.

Even if you continue to play second fiddle.

Even if you forever remain second best,

You feel him smile against your kiss, and the tears that pour feel like a torrential downpour, swallowing you whole.

It is what you will do.

It is all you can do.

[pressedinthepages]

Epiphany

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Eskel

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n:  Reader Request: [Hi *waves shyly*. I have a request for you if you're up for it. How about Geralt/Eskel where Eskel gets jealous when someone flirts with Geralt? We all know book!Geralt and game! Geralt give off a 'hoe on main' vibe. Eskel hates it and Geralt needs to make it up to him? Thanks for sharing your work, it honestly makes my day every single time ❤️] I'm softe. also, I love hoe on main geralt of rivia.

Also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a soundboard and friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, pining, GWENT, jealousy, confessions

Eskel and Geralt meet up just before winter and run an errand.

    The fire is warm on the unscarred side of Eskel’s face. He breathes in deeply, the scent of smoke and ale tickling his senses. He’s been in Ard Carraigh for a few days now, waiting dutifully for Geralt to get here so that they can continue up to Kaer Morhen together. There’s still plenty of time for them to be able to safely travel up the mountain, but Eskel has found himself arriving earlier and earlier with each passing year. The door to the tavern swings open and Eskel glances up, his lip turning up slightly at what he finds. 

    Geralt, black hood up and dripping with rainwater, pushes the door closed behind him. He walks straight to the barkeep and orders an ale and stew before turning to where Eskel sits. Eskel’s heart blooms when their eyes finally meet, and Geralt smirks a bit as he walks to sit at the table.

    “You’re early.” Geralt’s low voice crawls over Eskel’s skin. Geralt undoes the knot on his cloak, letting it fall from his shoulders to drape over the back of his chair. His silver hair shines in the light from the fire, curled and damp from the downpour outside. 

    Eskel takes a sip from his cup as the barkeep brings Geralt’s food and drink over. “Could say the same to you, Wolf.”

    Geralt shrugs before tucking in to his supper. “Need a new horse, figured I’d pick one up while we were here.”

    Eskel tilts his head, “Something happen to Roach? You’re not one to let your mount get into trouble.”

    Geralt shakes his head, slurping noisily from his spoon. “Nah, she’s alright. She’s old, though. She deserves to rest, I figured I’ll bring her to Kaer Morhen and let her retire there with Vesemir.”

    As if Eskel’s heart could melt any further. He watches Geralt as he lifts his bowl to his lips and his throat bobs as he drinks the remainder of the broth. Geralt’s tongue swipes over his lips as he returns the now-empty bowl to the table, and Eskel is sweating inside. 

    “You got a room here?” Geralt asks, sliding an extra coin to the girl who picks up his bowl. 

    Eskel nods, downing the rest of his ale. “Mhm, only got one bed though.”

    Geralt hums before rising to his feet. “Well, come on. I know I’m exhausted, and you look like shit.”

    Eskel huffs out a laugh as he stands as well. “Well, at least I don’t look like a drowned old rat.”

    Geralt bumps their shoulders as they move to the stairs. Eskel opens up the door to their room and kicks his boots off by the door. Geralt has a routine, they all do. Eskel sits in one of the chairs and sets the fireplace alight with a gentle flick of his fingers, ready to discreetly watch Geralt get comfortable. 

    His swords go next to the bed and his boots go next to Eskel’s at the door. Geralt drapes his cloak over the back of the other chair in the room so it has a chance to dry, and his gloves go in the seat. He unties a little pouch from his belt and tosses it onto the bed where it lands with a light thunk. Eskel’s eyes follow Geralt’s fingers as they pull and undo the shiny buckles and ties. His shirt is unbuttoned as he pulls the armor off, revealing the dark thatch of hair on his chest. Geralt tucks the heavy pieces next to his boots by the door, and Eskel swallows thickly at the sight of his leather-clad backside in those damned pants. 

    Geralt stands and turns back to Eskel, his hands at the buttons of his trousers. “You gonna just sit there and watch, or you gonna help?”

Eskel’s eyes dart to his face and he flushes when he sees the smirk on his lips. Dammit, caught. Well, if nothing else, Eskel has always been good at thinking on his feet. “Seem to be doing just fine from where I’m sitting. I usually have to pay for a show like this.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and divests himself of his trousers, folding them over the back of the chair as well. “Come on, Eskel. Get in the bed.”

“You sure you don’t want to stretch out? Every time that we do this, I end up hanging on for dear life off the edge of the bed while you stretch out and snore to the Gods.”

Geralt hums as he turns to the mattress. Eskel walks up next to him and cups the back of his neck, pulling him close and resting their foreheads together. Geralt’s eyes close and Eskel just listens to the sound of their heartbeats intertwining after almost a year apart. He feels Geralt’s hand on his shoulder, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’ve missed you, Geralt,” Eskel whispers.

“Missed you too, Eskel.” Geralt’s voice is barely audible as his nose brushes against Eskel’s. They part reluctantly and Geralt sits at the foot of the bed. Eskel slips out of his own trousers before climbing in as well. Geralt reaches for the little pouch and loosens it, flipping the contents into his hand.

“Up for a game of Gwent?”

Eskel laughs, a true laugh that is so rare on the Path. Eskel leans over in search of his pack and pulls out a pouch of his own. “You’re on.”

***

Eskel wakes to a fully dressed Geralt looming over him at the edge of the bed. “Awake yet, Princess?”

Eskel groans as he runs his hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He peers out of the window and sees the sun just barely erupting from the horizon. “Why are you up so early?” 

Geralt picks up Eskel’s trousers and throws them, landing squarely in Eskel’s lap. “Need a horse. Then we can leave for Kaer Morhen.”

Eskel chuckles with a shake of his head before swinging his legs out of the bed. The floor is cold under his feet as he slides his legs into his trousers, his boots following soon after. “I’ll meet you downstairs, let me grab my stuff.”

Geralt nods and shoulders out of the door, leaving Eskel alone in the room. He gathers his things and throws his swords over his back, leaving his armor in his pack for the moment. Eskel yawns with finality and follows in Geralt’s wake down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom he sees Geralt toss him something and his hand instinctively reaches up to catch it. His fingers squish the soft pastry and the sweet smell of honey tickles his nose.

“Mmm,” Eskel hums with a smile, “a sweet bun. Thanks, Wolf.”

Geralt nods as he leads the way out of the inn. Eskel stops by the little stables at the rear to set his pack with Scorpion, trying desperately not to wake Lil’ Bleater where she slumbers between the stallion’s feet. Soon enough he trails along behind Geralt as they approach a large barn at the edge of town. 

A handsome young man smiles at them as they approach. He looks to be about thirty, with a mop of dark brown hair that flops around in the breeze. He looks strong, his shoulders wide and his hips sturdy. 

“Well met, Witchers,” the man calls as they walk up. His voice is low and rich as he introduces himself as Davold. Eskel hangs back, letting Geralt do the talking. As he observes, he notices the man dragging his eyes slowly down and back up Geralt’s body. The scent of lust in the air spikes and Eskel shifts a bit, glancing around minutely. 

“Why don’t we head inside and take a look at these horses?” Davold gestures to Geralt and allows him to go inside first. Eskel sighs and follows along. Geralt walks along the stalls, listening intently as Davold tells him about each of the horses and their personalities. Eskel listens as well, hearing each and every bawdy flirtation that spills from Davold’s lips, as well as the laughter and the pick up in heartrate in Geralt’s chest. 

Something burns in Eskel as he stands in front of a tall bay mare, something low and sour that boils in his blood. He huffs and holds his hand out flat to let the horse sniff at him. She snuffles against his hand for a moment before she butts against his chest.

“Oh no, not her,” Davold strolls over, Geralt at his heels. “She’s been nothing but trouble.”

Eskel looks back at the horse as he strokes down her nose, her ears perked up in curiosity and her body relaxed. “Doesn’t look like trouble to me.”

Geralt walks up next to Eskel and extends his hand as well, but he has a chunk of apple in his palm. The mare leans down and takes the apple gently before sniffing up his arm, looking for another treat. She looks him right in the eye before butting him in the chest as well, pulling a deep chuckle from Eskel. 

“Good find, Eskel,” Geralt murmurs, scritching up the side of the horse’s neck. “We’ll take her.”

A deal is struck and before Eskel knows it they are leaving the stables with the new Roach in tow, Davold scowling in the background. The two of them return to the inn to collect the other horses and as they enter the stables, Eskel can’t help the sigh of relief that falls from his chest. 

“Something wrong?” Geralt asks as he carries his saddle to New Roach. Eskel grits his teeth as he throws a blanket over Scorpion’s back. 

“No, I just-” Eskel thinks over his words, “That Davold was really trying for you, huh?”

Geralt pokes his head around and gives Eskel a look that can only be described as several question marks in sequence. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice it.” Eskel rolls his eyes as he sets the saddle on Scorpion’s back. “He could barely keep it in his pants.”

“Hmm.”

Eskel does up the straps and secures his pack neatly across Scorpion. As he ties everything down, his mind wanders. I could never be enough for him, he deserves someone who could really be there for him, not someone like me. 

“It doesn’t matter if I noticed or not,” Geralt rumbles from somewhere behind him. “I wouldn’t have been interested. Got someone else in mind.”

Eskel hums as his mind spins in wheels, a delicate spiral that will leave him curled up and alone for a good few days once they get to the keep. He can feel himself receding into his mind, setting up walls and barriers for any and all who come knocking.

And suddenly Geralt’s hand is on his shoulder, and he’s turning around, and Geralt is in his space, his face impossibly close, and he smells so good, and his mouth is right there…

And then Geralt kisses him. Geralt kisses Eskel, and the world comes to a halt. Geralt’s hands fall to Eskel’s waist and squeeze him, and Eskel reaches his hands up to cup Geralt’s face. He is so warm beneath Eskel’s fingers, and his lips taste like honey and hay and every drop of happiness that Eskel has ever felt. 

Geralt pulls back first, his golden eyes searching Eskel’s. “I-I have loved you for so long.”

Eskel’s chest feels full to burst and he doesn’t trust his words at all, so he just pulls Geralt back to him. It’s all tongue and teeth and desperation and Eskel wouldn’t change it for the world. His fingers trail up into Geralt’s hair and the moan that falls from his chest would make a priestess blush. Eskel leans back only far enough for a breath, resting their foreheads together once more.

“You let me pine after you for decades, Geralt,” Eskel whispers, painfully aware of how vulnerable he sounds. 

“I didn’t know. I figured you just thought of us as friends, but-” Geralt’s voice is so low and husky that Eskel can feel it in his skin, “-but I’ve figured it out. It took a while, but I figured it out.”

Eskel smiles and presses their lips together again, ignoring how his scar stretches with the movement. “I hope you plan on making it up to me.”

Geralt smiles, big and rare and just for him, “Gladly.”

[tragicallyspoopynoodlez]

Hey I know this request might be a little weird but could you do Yandere Proxies? OwO

 Written by Ocean- 🌂

Yandere Proxies

  Kate the Chaser

General

Kate is  better yandere then toby- she won't come after you with some wood. But she still is pretty bad. She’s more of a Cat and Mouse yandere. 

She takes a few years to stalk, maybe 4 or 5. She likes letting them realize someone is watching them but they have no proof other than a  few items missing and an occasional bloody knife. 

Once she has you, she loves letting you have a hope that you've gotten out when you haven't. When there's a look of that she messed up, when in fact she did it for the fun of a chase. 

Stalking Period 

Kate is very obvious when she has someone in her interest, Slenders sexst ss isnt to keen on her talking yet he lets her talk about her darling ( who's a girl because Kates done with boys. The other proxies are rude to her o k)

So this girl goes out of her way to look through a window ( even if it's the second story) and will sneakin, she will touch you, very gently. So she doesn't wake you. And she’ll take a  few things. She sees them as gifts to her, so don't leave anything out that is valuable or clothes wise. Your favorite hoodie? Gone. 

Replaced with either straggly ass hoodie or a bloody knife.

Don't lock the windows she will, find a way in, and it will be even madder. And just for that will leave you a totally not cash money gift. 

A heart of a friend

It very progressively gets worse to the point of creepy notes like: I can see you sleeping at night. You're so pretty… it isn't fair 

Or something like this: The last gift i gave you.. Did you like it? (insert friend's name) screamed and struggled  a lot. 

DID YOU LIKE IT? YOU LOOKED SCARED LAST NIGHT WHEN YOU READ IT 

Kidnapping 

Kate doesn't waste any time on scaring you once she is ready to kidnap you, she gets everything prepared that night, a needle with an anesthetic. That reminds me of him. A blind fold, son handcuffs and ropes. 

Ndbg to put a few items she's come to realize you like.

And a few photos of you and daily and friends. Just something to remind you of your old life when you've been bad.

She brings you to some andonded camping hous.To which she fixed up. By stealing someone's money, she even has your own room for you! 

She tied you to the bed and waits quietly for you to wake up, nd when you do, 

She smiled and tilted her head and in a hushed voice greeted the young man and tried to make you comfortable. Don't worry the food dean tube anything in j! Is perfectly safe. And if you don't believe her she'll eat it. Then if you don't eat it still, she will shoe i down your throat “ Cant have yous starving love” 

Punishments

Oh you escaped when she hadn't been planning it? Oh you're making yourself puke up your food?

Are you refusing her love? 

Oh no that just won't do. 

Kate will bring in someone she kept alive for this exact purpose, with you tied up and forced to watch while she tortures them to death- in the end nailing one of the eight pages to their body and hanging them up on the fence that lines the wood of Creek, Ohio. 

In general, Kate is not a total cash money to have after your booty 

Hoodie/Brian

More stalky stalky less talky talky

Most of the time you wouldn't even realize that he's here other than when you look behind you you see a man in an orange hoodie who just acts like he was going to a friends. 

I Mean sure sometimes at night you can feel someone breathing down your neck from thi man sneaking into your room! But that doesn't matter. 

Please don't try running from him- he will end your whole career. Once he finds you he will drag you back by your hair and do some things that aren't nice. But we'll get into those after we go to the: 

Stalking 

Hoodie is not obvious about this at all, most people would just think he's being a normal hoodie and Brian.

Until he starts going missing during the day when he shouldn't be doing work, Slender knows what's going on. And just told him don't get caught. 

Honestly he finds his way in through a window and just sits next to your bed. And wait until it's time for you to awaken. 

This takes a few months at most before he kidnaps you, but in that time has memorized your schedule. Stay up late on weekends but go to bed at a decent enough time on weekdays? He factored all of it into everything. 

He's planned very well. He has a cute little house in the woods that he had built as a hide out if anything ever went down. He has it adjusted to what he thinks your tastes are. And hell, he even out some of your clothes he's noticed you liked. 

Then friends are pushed away from you by this man's leaving note about you. So no one is to worry about you, or else doing anything about it. He ny people he really has to worry about is your parents and her family members. 

Kidnapping 

It's probably a wednesday so everybody thought they were acting normal and that you were just sick that night. 

In reality he picked your sleeping body up ever so gently, pushed some hair out of your face. And whispered shhh. Before putting chloroform over your mouth and nose. And yeeting himself out of the window with you. 

You would wake up in the room painted your favorite color and he would be right there. Looming over you, holding food. 

Don't even try to escape eating. He will literally shave it down your hot and glare at you. 

He can't have you dying now, can he? 

And you can scream at him all you want. I won't affect him. Like at all. He’d just chuckle 

He may be patient but everybody has their limits. And when he breaks, you better be scared. 

Punishments

Oh boy. He doesn't care about your mental health or physical health. Yp are his to touch and hurt. And he doesn't care what happens to you, other than the fact of death and you leaving him. 

Oh you escaped? He will find you and drg you by your hair. Muttering about how you're ungrateful and will start beating you with his pipe. 

Will take you to the bathroom and shove his finger down your throat until you puke. He really doesn't care.

He won't stop beating you and making you puke until you're crying out and bloodied, maybe even coughing up blood. Then he throws you in the basement with merely a bucket to piss in and some disgusting food. Hats probably molded. 

Don't worry! He will come down there to get you. After a week or two. 

Hoodie may act nice at first, adn seem like it, but don't piss him off or make him mad. He will ruin your existence. 

Masky/Tim

SADISTIC!!!! Very very sadistic. And he wastes no time in getting his darling. Like he sees you. 

Probably met you in a  run in to get cigarettes, you most likely just bumped into him and immediately there was a warning signal in his head, that this person was going to be something to him. And he needed to keep an eye on them.

He stalks you for a week or two. 

Stalking Period

During the 13 days he stays with you, he becomes obsessed. It's evident when he's around everyone else. The way he's gotten more violent, and disappears often.

It makes it obvious. 

Now he cuts you in your sleep. Just to fuck with your head. 

You know those strange bruises and cuts you keep waking up with? That's his fault. He decided to mess with you even more. 

Then, he kidnaps you. No fucks given 

Kidnapping

When he does this, he gets his crow bar out. It's probably around 10. You're probably watching Tv or on the computer. And he just,,, strikes. He snuck in through the window and even if you try to run, he's going to hit you in your nico nico knee caps. Laugh at your fruitful attempt of escape. 

Then hit you upside the head with the crow bar, giving you a sadistic grin from the mask. 

Honesty?? He didn't go out of his way for somewhere for you to stay. He literally just keeps you in the basement. Much to Ej and Dr. Smileys dismay. And doesn't stay down there but for a few hours of the day

Leaves questionable cuts and bruises everywhere. 

Punishments

Sadism does not mix well with punishments. And honestly there is no escaping the masked hoe. Oh no. He has you suraillenced at constant imes, so it's always when you disobey. He takes you to his jbs to make you witness muder. 

Gruesome murder,

And then, he bruises you up. Then cuts you.

Then, he does it so easily. He shots you. Nothing fatal.Just to make sure you'll never be able to walk again. 

In the end, having sadsic boy stalk you and be rude to you is not nice at all. Smh. It does not give you stonks

[monst]

Delivery

Warnings: Sexytime actions, Food play, size difference👀 Thisrt post!

😑 you shameless heathens. @-ing me to hoe around 💀. Your lucky I'm down with it 🤪😅🤦‍♀️J.k Love ya💕 So yeah let's all thot for Gummy ^.^💕💘 @tooloudarts & @kingtamakimurder

_________

Everyone knew that the pro-hero Fatgum had to eat in order to enlarge his form. It was a basic requirement for his quirk to function. He was used to stopping at kiosks while patrolling, buying foods from vendors or even being gifted food.

But, Taishiro wasn't always on patrol. Sadly he too had to sit in an office and write reports. The tedious paperwork was necessary but oh so very boring. Not only that but his snacking options were decimated while at the office. For some reason the vending machine was almost always empty......

One day fed up with the constant complaints Tamaki slipped him one of his favorite fast food joint's brochure. And that was when he first met you. The cute delivery girl. He was with Kirishima when you brought his order and his underling literally had to elbow him so that he could hand over the money...

He ordered from the place everytime he was stuck in the office. And everytime without fail you would come in with a bright smile on your face and hand him his order. Your chats were short at first with only polite pleantaries being exchanged. But as soon as you became comfortable around the giant man you both would find yourselves talking for longer. So much so that one day your boss called you asking you if there was an issue. And even though you had been chatting for two hours Taishiro didn't want you to go.

Over the course of your frequent deliveries Taishiro began to harbor feelings for little old you. It was cute and harmless and his underlings quickly noticed it. They didn't pester him about it but the red head never failed to wiggle his eyebrows when he saw him talking to you. He finally knew why he always wanted to hear you speak, or why he never wanted you to leave when you delivered.

He thought you were absolutely gorgeous and loved the way you pronounced his name. You didn't botch his name up but it just felt so right? But not all his thoughts about you were pure... His eyes were often glued to the way your uniform hugged your body. The cloth sticking to each curve accentuating your assets. And whenever you came in and greeted him with a "Hey Taishiro." He'd hate himself for wishing you were saying his name under different circumstances. As a matter of fact he didn't want you to be saying it. He wanted you to gasp it, breath it and scream it. He felt like a pervert...

....But... It wasn't as if you were any better. You had geeked the first time you met him and your fascination only grew the more time you spent together. It had been almost a year since the both of you met and you were beginning to think he didn't like you. That was until you noticed his wandering eyes. The fact that he wanted you was enough to light a fire in your belly and if you were being honest you were also guilty of eyeing the man up...

It was obvious to everyone else but you two were clueless and fed up. You both wanted to confess but you weren't expecting it to go down the way it did....

It was a normal delivery. Pancakes and strawberry syrup. It was something he had ordered every once in a while. It was also something he liked sharing with you. You sat a top his table as you stole bites of the pancake. Something the both of you did religiously. He ordered food and you sat with him and ate till your boss called you back.

"Ah shoot!" You frowned looking at the stain forming on your shirt. The syrup quickly drenched the fabric and you grumbled. "Great now I'm gonna be sticky all day."

Taishiro's eyes were on the stain. Or better yet what the stain was revealing. You really weren't wearing a bra... As you dabbed at the stain you failed to notice the heros leering gaze. You had figured that he continued eating and you began to undo the first couple of buttons on your shirt to stuff tissues on the inside of your shirt. But to Taishiro it looked like you were stripping and he was totally not against it.

His face caught fire when he caught a peak at the top of your breasts. You pushed the tissues down only to gasp when the cold material brushed against your nipple. The sound went straight to Taishiro's cock, as he choked on the fluffy buttermilk pancakes. It was then that you noticed what you were doing. 'Fuck I'm stripping in front of him!!?!? He probably thinks I'm a creep-' Your thoughts were cut off as you looked down... The monster stretching the material of his pants made your pussy throb.

You bit your lip, your eyes meeting his nutmeg colored pools. His eyes were wild and hungry and fuck it was doing things to you. In an act of boldness you picked up another piece of the pancake. This one oozing with syrup. When you bit into it, it dripped down your chin and down your neck slowly dropping further and disappearing beneath your open shirt. Taishiro's eyes followed the sugary trail. "Your letting it go to waste." He breathed.

"Oh sorry" you responded unbuttoning the rest of your shirt to see that the syrup had reached the hem of your pants. You smirked watching as Taishiro licked his lips. You took it a step further and brought your finger down the sugary line only to bring it to your mouth. You sucked on the digit, slurping the liquid off loudly. "Mmm yeah your right I don't want something this good to go to waste~"

When you went to repeat the action your fingers didn't reach your mouth. Taishiro's large hand covered yours completely as he brought your fingers to his mouth. You shuddered but didn't object when he pushed the takeout box out of the way to settle you in front of him. When he pulled away he dipped his head down, his tongue licking up the expanse of your belly. He lapped at the syrup on going up slowly. You arched into his touch when his hands cupped your breasts. Your head fell back when he licked the syrup there and then finally he claimed your mouth.

The kiss was hot and needy. And you couldn't help but whine into his mouth as his thumbs rolled your nipples. When he pulled away you were breathless. Taishiro took the opportunity to push you back against the table gently. He tugged off your pants and underwear leaving you bare a top his desk.

"T-Taishiro~" you gasped when his hand cupped your sex. He loomed over you his large frame the only thing in your sight. Not that you minded hell the fact that he was so large had your cunt drooling on to his palm. Taishiro couldn't believe his luck and he had to stop himself from pulling out of his pants and fucking you right then and there. But he knew he couldn't do that. He needed you to be extremely prepared for that.

"You have no idea." He groaned leaning down to kiss your stomach. "How long I've waited to get a taste of you~"

"Ah~" you squealed when he used his other hand to drop the strawberry syrup on your skin. His thumb began to work slow circles on your clit as he took in a syrup covered nipple into his mouth.

"Thanks for the delivery" he teased when he pulled away to slurp the syrup on the other nipple. You moaned and squirmed underneath him your hips rutting into his palm.

He pulled away from your dripping heat to grab underneath your knees pulling you closer. You heard him smack his lips shuddering as he grinned down at you. And when his tongue flicked out across your clit you cried out his name. A chuckle slipped past his lips and before he descended on you he let out a chirpy

"Itadakimasu"

[detectiveguapo]

Choke

Summary: Miguel doesn’t like it when you ghost him. 

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Words: 2905

TW: language, sex, consensual angry sex (but kinda has shades of non-con), physical violence, choking

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The roar of the engine rips through the quiet of your suburban street. Two wheels ignite the pavement as you steer the bars left, your modest bungalow finally coming into view. Everything is as you left it except for a pair of black cars with tinted windows parked on the adjacent street. A visit from the president, you think wryly. A window rolls down and you spot those clear-framed sunglasses and a salt and pepper beard (just begging to be sat on). “Shit,” you mutter, and it reverberates within the confines of your helmet. The moment you turn to your driveway and your engine sputters to a stop, the driver to the Bentley steps out. The kickstand scratches on the concrete as you pull the helmet over your head, your hair flowing out to fall down the small of your back. You don’t look behind you, but you can hear the set of footsteps encroaching upon your space.

“I know where you’ve been.” His voice is deceivingly placid, but you can sense the dark clouds and looming thunderstorm. The click of Italian shoes stops a few feet from where you’re standing, then you hear his men retreat a safe distance — far enough so they’re not privy to your conversation, but close enough to intercept if you decided to hurt a hair on their boss’ precious, pretty head. “You’re tracking me now?” “I wouldn’t have to if you were honest with me.” You chuckle at the irony of it all. Miguel Galindo — the man who keeps more secrets than the United States Treasury — is telling you to be honest with him.

The statement is infuriating, but it’s low on the list of things he does that make your blood boil. The demand to be truthful when you can’t expect the same in return is, frankly, unsurprising since you know what you got yourself into when you started sleeping with him. But it’s still bullshit. There’s also the possessiveness, the jealousy, the refusal to acknowledge you want more from him than he’s willing to give. You know it’s like diving in quicksand getting involved with the leader of a drug cartel, but you can’t help it. Reason flies out the window the second he shows up in his perfectly-pressed shirts, expertly-coiffed hair, and that stupidly gorgeous face. The fucking nerve.

He’s not even your type. He’s wound up tight, doesn’t have a speck of dirt under his fingernails, and can’t hang and have a beer with your friends. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you try to resist the biological need to mount him. He’s not what you go for, seeing as you’re the kind of girl who gets around town in a Harley and makes a living tinkering with engines. But his infuriating way of getting whatever he wants works on you, because you’re really not that different from the other girls. You may be one of the boys, but you’d still be a hoe for Galindo if he asked nicely. And the fucker’s really good at that. He’s got a way of smoothing out your rough edges (with his tongue).

The door doesn’t slam behind you even though you have every intention of slamming it in Miguel’s face telenovela-style. He follows you inside the house, through the living room, into the kitchen, cornering you between the fridge and the hard wall that is his body. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” You take a swig from the orange juice carton and swallow hard, the citrus burning your throat. Putting it back in the fridge, you turn around and duck under his outstretched arm to move out of the claustrophobic space. “Stop walking away from me” he calls after you. “And stop ignoring my questions.”

You’re in the narrow hallway on the way to your bedroom when you feel a tight grip on your arm and your body slammed onto the drywall. It nearly knocks the wind out of you. Wincing at the sudden impact, you blink a few times before you see Miguel’s reddened face inches from yours. The knot between his brows is deep and his eyes are so intense you can’t bear to return his stare. There are moments when Miguel can be on the aggressive side when you’re having sex, but it’s something you’ve both consented to and discussed. You love it when he’s rough, sometimes egging him on to push your limits. But he’s never been like this outside of sex even when he’s angry with you; he’s never let any form of physical violence take over. A little part of you is scared as you’re suddenly reminded of who he is and what he’s done. You’re not oblivious. You’ve heard the stories. You know about the yellow raincoat deep in his closet. And yet, another little part of you located between the apex of your thighs is awakened. The shallow breaths between you in such a cramped space is the only sound that exists for a long, drawn-out moment. The rise and fall of his chest stretches the perfectly-pressed shirt until it forms creases around the buttons. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration with himself, then he takes a step back and groans. “Fuck.”

“I think you should leave,” you say with a crack in your voice, unsure of whether or not it’s really what you want. “Please go.” “Tell me why you left.” “Miguel.” “Why did you disappear without telling me?” he asks, almost pleading. “We were fine up until a week ago, then all of a sudden you don’t want to see me, you don’t want to talk to me, you want nothing to do with me. What is it? What did I do?” “I don’t want to do this right now.” Miguel slaps his palms against the wall, forearms on either side of your head. You close your eyes like you’re bracing for impact but it never comes. “You bailed on our arrangement, and I’m not leaving until I have answers.” “Our arrangement,” you repeat with bitterness laced in your voice. “The arrangement where you only crawl back to me whenever it’s convenient for you — only when you’re looking for a warm body to share your bed. But the rest of the time, you’re cool with the rest of the world thinking you’re some hotshot bachelor. You have no clue, huh?” “Is that why you’re running from me? Because of a fucking label? Because I don’t think it benefits either of us to make you my fucking girlfriend?” “Please,” you say. “This last week, I’ve come to realize I deserve more than to be Galindo’s puta.” “What do you deserve?” His mouth close to your ear, his breath trailing fire on your skin. “To be the Mayans’ puta?”

“Fuck you, Miguel.” You push him off you, but in a second he’s cornered you against the wall, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders. “You can’t speak to me like that.” “Fuck. You.” He grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “Try that again and —“ “— And what?” You spit back. “You’ll bash my head in? Cut my arm off? Choke me to death with your shirt?” He backs off a little like he knows he’s on the verge of doing something unspeakable, even for him. This is what you find so confusing about him. He has these moments where he’s compassionate and loyal, where he uses his brilliance for the benefit of others, and then there are moments where he’s too immersed in the terrible things he’s done that he isolates himself. He won’t let anyone he actually cares about see that part of him. He won’t let anyone he loves see him when he’s the man on the other side of that wall. But something vicious inside you sees that moment of vulnerability and decides to stab it with a knife and twist until he bleeds out. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me who I can’t hang out with,” you say about your friends. You know it works because his expression darkens with anger the moment you bring it back to the Mayans; something about your relationship to the club is like picking at an old wound for Miguel. “I tell you what to do because I own you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hands restraining your hips so you’re trapped with nowhere to go. “I even own the Mayans. I own every single fucking person on either side of this border. They work for me and they fall to their fucking knees for me.”

“If you own me then claim me.” Miguel looks into your eyes, his brows creasing and his lips parting. If he doesn’t want to be with you, then he’s not worth all of the pain. Even if he makes you feel good, it’s not worth the hurt when he leaves and pretend you don’t exist. “Make me yours, Miguel.” He thinks about it a second too long, and you push him off.

Miguel retaliates in a flash with his hand around you throat and his whole body slamming into you. He chokes you. He doesn’t even slacken his hold when his eyes give away how startled he is by the force he’s inflicting upon you. His grip stays the same even as you gasp for air and your eyes are wide in horror (and arousal). Your face is pointed to the ceiling as you feel the anguished cry from your lips turn into something along the lines of a mischievous smile. You buck your hips into his, and when he doesn’t change course, you spit in his face.

Miguel chokes harder. He’s crushing your throat so tight you feel your eyes bug out of your skull, and now you’re legitimately terrified you’re going to die of asphyxiation. Everything goes blurry and all you remember is the onyx gleam in his eyes and the bright white canines that you wish would scrape at your skin until you’re bleeding crimson for him. But then he lets go. His breaths are ragged while you’re coughing up a storm, trying to take in as much oxygen and save what’s left of your lungs. You’re doubled over, palm over your chest when you see him standing on the opposite wall. His fingers are running through his hair, his mouth muttering curse words in Spanish. You stand a little straighter as you let your fingers trail along the side of your neck, throwing him a challenge by smiling slyly in his direction. Shoving you against the wall and forcing his thigh between your legs, he kisses you. One hand wraps around the front of your throat while the other caresses down your cheek. It’s violent and tender at the same time. It’s infuriatingly Miguel.

He continues to strangle you but no longer with the same merciless force as before. Not when he’s simultaneously distracted by the taste of your tongue tangling with his, or the sensation of you rubbing on his thigh. His deft fingers loosen the buttons of your jeans and pulls them swiftly down to your knees. You kick them off, but not far enough. Miguel pulls away from the kiss and his chokehold to bend down and slip your jeans entirely off your legs, throwing them down the hall. He kisses and licks and bites your inner thigh on his way up then all the way down as he slides the lacy thong out of the way. Hands slide up under your white t-shirt, grabbing a handful of your tits. He squeezes with the same force he had on your neck and you gyrate onto his clothed erection. Hands wrap under your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. It frees you up to work on his trousers and his underwear, getting them out of the way so you can feel the hot, thick length that you’ve craved. As much as you’ve missed the feeling of being filled up by Miguel, the memory doesn’t come close to the real thing. He bucks into your hands as he cradles your face, his head buried in the leather-clad junction of your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He jerks into the tight ring formed by your fingers. “Don’t ever try to leave me again.” You loosen your grip and let your hands fall to your side. “You’re not going anywhere.” “You can’t make me —“ He wrings your neck in both hands and, this time, he lifts you off the ground. You claw at him in your state of panic, heels kicking against the wall so you can get down. Fear is coursing through every cell in your bloodstream. He’s going to kill you. Miguel Galindo, your lover who also happens to be a murderous cartel boss, is literally going to be the death of you. He buries his cock inside you. The tilt of his hips alleviates some of the pressure around your throat, allowing you to balance precariously on his length. He saves you by fucking you. You’re up against the wall, one hand tight around your throat and the other slides down to your hip as he pounds into you. Each stroke a ferocious testament to his bond of ownership.

The lights begin to dance in front of your eyes and the narrow hallway becomes a never-ending spiral. It might be from the lack of oxygen to your brain, or the merciless fucking, or a wicked combination of both. Miguel is in some sort of daze, laser-focused on one thing and one thing only and that’s claiming you so you’re at his mercy. His eyes are the darkest they’ve ever been and you wonder, in a brief moment of lucidity, if this is what he looks like when he’s ordering a kill. You slide down the wall as his grip loosens and his legs give out. Falling on the floor, you feel his weight on top of you, never disengaging his cock from your slick walls. He drives into you a few more times while he tries to catch his breath, and while you try to get some long, deep breaths of your own before he’s got his hands choking you again. He kneels. He pulls your ass off the floor so your back is arched, and he impales you to the hilt. You’re so wet and wired for him, but this new angle is hitting a new spot and it hurts (but in the best way.) Your body tries to rumble out a moan but he’s stifling it down and all it can do is simmer inside of you. This position opens you up and makes you even more vulnerable. While he keeps one hand on your neck, squeezing with every downward stroke, he takes his other hand to your clit. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust to the sensation as he circles and pinches with his fingers. He sticks a couple fingers in his mouth and lubes them up, positioning them over your over-sensitized clit. At this point, it becomes too much and your muddled brain doesn’t know if it’s experiencing immense pleasure or pain. You just know you’re going to die if you don’t get your release soon. “You’re mine.” He pants with deep, hard strokes. “You will always be mine.” There’s nothing about the way he says it that makes you feel comforted or makes you feel like you’re getting what you want. Being his girlfriend is a silly thing to ask of him — you know that, but you can’t help your heart from wanting what your head knows is a terrible idea. For a long time now, you’ve wanted to hear Miguel say those words. You dreamed to belong to each other. You just never expected those words to come out as a threat. Rolling your clit between his fingers and fucking you faster and stronger, you feel the wave crash over you and your whole body convulsing from the base of your belly outward. When you come, you lose your breath and pass out.

All you remember next is a haze. You’re gasping for air like you’ve just woken up from a nightmare as you feel Miguel pulling out. He’s still kneeling over you but he shoves your legs on either side of him. Still on his knees, he sits up so he’s towering over you. He grips his length with the hand he used to choke you and he jerks off, finishing in milky hot streaks all over your stomach.

When it’s all over, you roll to your side, clutching your bruised neck and coughing weakly. Everything hurts. There’s an ache nestled within the left side of your chest, right below your ribcage, and it makes you wonder if you’re having a heart attack. Chin on the floor, you blink a few times to see Miguel on his feet. He’s straightening his clothes — buttoning his trousers and smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt. He walks toward the door, but before he leaves he looks at you with a mix of pity and an empty sort of affection. The kind one has for an object they desire, not for someone they love. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quietly then adds, “answer your fucking phone this time.”

[warpedlegacy]

WIP Whenever

Because I’m bad at time. And keeping track of it. And completing things.  Okay so I am making progress on Reprisals Book Two, but the thing keeping more of my attention than I expected was my domestic series for post-Trespasser, While Time Remains. And I just wanted to share this scene with y’all: Cullen finally reuniting with his family (well, just Mia in this scene), and introducing them to his wife. I had to cut it down quite a bit to fit within the post limits of my ff server, so anyone from there, here is the full(er) version! (PS - “Cal” is the name I’ve given the mabari hound he adopts in Halamshiral during Trespasser. Yes, it’s short for Calenhad. Yes, Cullen is very predictably Fereldan.) Thanks for the tag @dreadfutures! I’m gonna wait on more tags since I’m late on this one lol.  South Reach is thoroughly rural Ferelden. Cullen takes in the vast fields, the scattered cottages, the humble mill churning its wheel, and thinks “home”. Despite the fact that this was not where he grew up. Despite the fact that he has never been here before. It all feels so achingly familiar that his heart swells. 

Inquiries in the market square lead them to the right house. It sits on the north side of a field of barley, hemmed in from behind by the coniferous forest and from the west by a run-off from the Drakon River. Very well-situated. Mia must have fought tooth and nail for a spot this choice. Cullen smiles thinking of this, then grimaces, knowing the reception waiting for him is like to be anything but peaceful. 

“They’ll be happy to see you.” Tess rides beside him, steady reassurance in her quiet strength. Subtle highlights in her dark hair catch the sunlight and remind Cullen of coals burned low in the hearth. Her bronze skin glows, but her eyes are dark and piercing as ever as she watches him. 

“Oh, I’m sure they will be,” he allows. “Eventually.” 

“After they finish lecturing you for not writing you mean?” 

“Partly…” Cullen rubs at the back of his neck. He’d been dreading this confession, but now there was no avoiding it. “And also for not telling them we’re coming.” 

Stunned silence follows, and he can’t bring himself to look in Tess’s direction. He doesn’t have to - he feels the growing aggravation about to boil over. 

“You didn’t tell them?” She sounds somehow incredulous and not at all surprised. “Do they even know we’re married?” 

More silence. 

“Cullen!” 

Her disapproval claps electric like one of her spells. He flinches, far too guilty to put up much of a fight. “I know, I should have told them. But with all that was going on there wasn’t time to write before our departure.” 

“What is Mia going to think of me…” 

“Of you?” Now Cullen glances her way, and sees his mistake. The anxiety is writ clear in her face - itself enough of an exception to be worrying - and her hand grips the reins fiercely as she purses her lips into a thin line. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry, love. It’s with me she’ll place the blame, I assure you. You’ve nothing to fear of her wrath.” 

He reaches across the space to grasp her… Right. He’s on her left side, not her right. She notices his hesitation and his heart wrenches as her face withdraws into despondency. His worry for her grows. She’s been like this since Halamshiral, and every effort on his part to assist her is met with stubborn denial and more withdrawal. She’s pulling away from him, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. 

“Tess…” 

“It’s fine.” She releases a harsh puff of air that fogs briefly in the morning chill. “There’s nothing for it now.”

They exchange no more words as they make the final approach to the cottage. It’s a modest log and thatch structure, longer than it is wide, roof rising high to accommodate a second floor. Smoke wafts up from a narrow chimney in the center.  The walls are plastered smooth, a gleaming white beacon amidst the crisp green and gold foliage. Laundry hangs across lines in the garden, which is separated by a low stone wall. 

The word “pristine” occurs to Cullen, and he smiles despite his worry. 

A figure toils in the garden with a hoe, and as they draw near Cullen nearly chokes, thinking he’s seeing his mother. But then she straightens and raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and he realizes it’s Mia. All grown up, unlike his memories of her. 

She’d only been fifteen when they last saw each other. 

She spies their approach and he hears her surprised gasp even from yards away. The hoe falls to the dirt, forgotten, and she hikes up her skirts to vault the garden wall and race toward them. Cal utters a low growl at the sudden approach, but Cullen dismounts to get him quickly to heel. 

“As I live and breathe…” Mia pants and slows her approach, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at a brother she’d thought thoroughly lost to her more times than she cares to count. 

Up close, her resemblance to their mother is even more striking. Wheat-blonde curls fall to her waist, fighting free of the scarf tying them back. Her sleeves are rolled up past the elbows, forearms bearing the strength and tone of long hours toiling under the sun. Her eyes, the same rich, whiskey brown. Her mouth curled up at the corners, a perpetually patient smile always at hand.

“Hello Mia.” Cullen straightens with his own far more awkward smile, releasing Cal to sniff experimentally at this familiar stranger. 

Mia takes it all in at a glance - Cullen’s height, his broad shoulders, his untamed curls so like her own, sideways grin so like their father’s - then her eyes drift toward a figure she recognizes only by description. Dark-eyed, wild-haired, fiercely stoic… and an unmistakable aura of legend. 

The Inquisitor. Theresa Trevelyan. Or, as Cullen has frequently slipped up in his letters, “Tess”. 

She dismounts with practiced grace, and that is when Mia notes the knot tied in her left sleeve, an arm that ends just above the elbow. But she sees the prideful lift of her chin and knows this woman wants no pity. 

“My Lady Inquisitor.” Mia nods and wipes her hands before offering her right to shake in greeting. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“Likewise.” The Inquisitor takes her hand and dips her head. A surprisingly warm smile lights up her face, and Mia can see what drew Cullen so thoroughly into her orbit. “Though just Theresa will do.” 

Mia nods, accepting this instantly, before turning to Cullen with a much sterner expression. 

“You might’ve told me you were coming! Rosie’s gone to market in town, and Bran won’t be able to make it for at least a fortnight, what with the new baby!” 

Cullen accepts the scolding with good-natured exasperation, wearing an expression Theresa has seen many times whilst reading letters from his elder sister. A true matriarch, she somehow looms before the man despite being half a head shorter. Theresa understands a little better why he was always able to withstand Leliana’s and Josephine’s teasing with such fond patience. 

“I wanted to write, but there wasn’t time,” he tries to get in, but Mia is already verbalising all the new accommodations she will need to prepare. 

She barely stops to breathe even as she leads them and their mounts toward the cottage. There is a lean-to stable in the back where a plow horse is already housed, nibbling on fresh hay. A cat naps in the pile nearby, taking advantage of a patch of sunlight. 

When Cullen lets slip about the elopement, Mia launches into a fresh tirade. 

“But I told you I planned to propose!” he protests, receiving a gentle swat upside the head for the audacity. 

“Yes, but I foolishly assumed maybe you’d be holding off on the wedding until your family could be there!” Mia huffs.

“It’s not entirely his fault,” Theresa jumps in, looking fully guilty herself. “Circumstances were a bit… urgent. We didn’t want to wait.” 

That gives Mia pause, and she has to remind herself of how chaotic - and dangerous - their lives are compared to hers. At last, she lets herself smile, beaming from ear to ear as she reaches out and finally hugs her brother. 

“Welcome home, Cullen,” she says. 

He nearly crushes her as he returns the embrace. “It’s good to finally be back.” 

“And you, come here.” 

She draws Theresa in as well, but this embrace is more awkward as she seems not to know what to do with half an arm. New injury, must be. Mia makes her hug all the fiercer to make up for it. 

“My sister,” she declares, and plants a kiss on her cheek for good measure. “Welcome to the family.” 

Unexpectedly, tears well up in Theresa’s eyes and she cannot help the happy sob that escapes. It’s too much, this feeling of unquestioned acceptance. She’s never had this before - not so soon, so easily. She catches the glint of understanding in Cullen’s eyes before the tears make it impossible to see, and she reaches up to wipe them away. 

“Oh, you just let it all out my dear.” Mia looks from one to the other, belatedly realising how exhausted they both look, before nodding to herself. “You two finish stabling the horses. I’ll get your bed ready. There’ll be tea and stew waiting for you when you’re done.” 

And in a flurry of motion she’s gone, leaving Theresa to fall into Cullen’s waiting embrace until the shudders stop.