#I think I was trying to do like: bounding into the distance with a really deep perspective and failing

[moeblob]

Amazing, take some of the side character demons from Evil Bound.

Vincie is a menace to Chuck and Chuck alone so in Hell, Chuck hexes his hand behind his back so that he isn't grabbed as much (and it's harder to pet him). Chuck is like the most irresponsible older sibling ever to demons though so Kelvin recruits him (as an older sibling vibe) to go help him get his ACTUAL older sibling from Earth. Chuck agrees. And then drags Vincie from Hell with them because no one else wants to babysit him and he refuses to unbind the hex just to re-hex when he returns to Hell.

In Hell, Kelvin actually doesn't appear much different than his human form! Like Kronos, the lines under his eyes are red in Hell but black on earth. Chuck however? In Hell he has wolf-ish ears and has a fur lining his neck (note the neck scars in human form). In addition to that he has four eyes in Hell (note the scars under his eyes in human form). Vincie just has horns in Hell. And! In Hell the hex doesn't have a silly looking "tied up" look, it's invisible unless Vincie strains it with movement and then its red text. But it shifts on earth to be visible.

Vincie's biggest agony for the entirety on earth is "dude it's colder here than in Hell I want a jacket to slip my arms into BUT I CANT BECAUSE IM BOUND".

[kinda-daily-warriorcat]

Uncolored ver (I know it's hard to see) & old vers under the cut

Uncolored (2023)

2015

2018

2019

[kimberly-spirits13]

Back From Hell

Pairing: Dean Winchester x witch!reader

Warnings: Details of hell, the silver knife test, shower together but nothing NSFW, angst, fluff with hint of angst at the end

Summary: After you sacrafice yourself to save humanity from demons trying to harness your powers, you die and go to hell, only to be ressurected. In the aftermath, the first thing you do is find Dean.

Word Count: 3156

 Heat, blistering heat hit your face and suffocated your lungs. The hair on your face singed off and you felt your skin peel in flakes off your body and the sounds of screams deafen your ears. Something pierced your body, feeling like thousands of needles scratching blood from your flesh the moment it returned, and the singeing of your body started over once more. The squeal of a heavy iron door shrieked through wherever you were, and a tall, dark figure entered. 

                  In a low guttural tone it spoke, “Had enough yet, witch?” 

                  You didn’t answer, closing your eyes and ignoring the figure.

                  “Speak!” He raised his hand and a large blade thrust through your stomach and back out again.

                  You screamed in agony, spitting blood onto what seemed to be the floor, “I thought” you gasped for air, “I thought you hadn’t even started with me yet.” 

                  The creature smiled and pulled out a large iron, lit flaming orange from heat. With slow, long strides, it approached you, running a long-clawed finger over the heated metal. 

                  “Well, in that case, I’d like to see how you feel about your spells now, witch.”

                  In a swift movement, he pressed the burning iron into your skin and began writing in ancient script. You wailed curses in pain as the scorching end of the metal carved into you. 

                  In a matter-of-fact tone, you heard his voice start again and the singe of the metal into your skin pause, “You could join us and make all this stop. Indeed, your magic would be of great value to us.” “Think about it, witch. You’d never endure this again. All for a simple commitment.”

                  “Fuck you.” You spat blood at the form.

                  A low chuckle emitted from the being, “It’s a shame really.” 

                  He pierced your side again, “You’d do so well.” 

                  The torture continued for what could have been hours, days, or weeks longer before you were left alone once again to suffer the same eternal cycle of struggle. You knew time was passing because the routine would stop and start over. It played on and on in the same loop as a broken record, bound to never be shut off. After every 1000 cycles of time, the figure would come in again, usually with a different introduction, but always with the same request. You had died sacrificing yourself to kill a line of demons rampaging through the human world. Using the last of your strength and the legendary magic you possessed, you died after destroying them. Now you were stuck here, in an endless loop of dread. 

                  The day you got out was no different. You awoke with the same terror drowning your senses and making breathing almost impossible. Volcanic heat violently erupted against your skin and began to suffocate you again. The heat was unbearable and boiling tears swept down your face and into your ears. You cried and screamed against the pain and began counting down the cycle repeats until you endured whatever form of torture hell created today. Around the 200th sequence you started hearing unfamiliar noises in the distance. Your stomach churned thinking it was some new creative device to instill pain on a new level. The shrill scream of the metal chamber door opening came early this time and you looked up to see what it was. A tall bright figure stood at the doorway and confidently walked towards you. In the flash of an eye, you felt yourself being picked up and carried away.

                  “Whatever this is,” you mumbled, “I won’t join you.” 

                  A strong, calm voice answered you, “Be calm, this is your deliverance.”

                  “What are you on about?” You looked towards what you thought would be the face, dazed and confused. The landscape around you seemed hazy and you didn’t understand what was going on.

                  “You maintained proper loyalties. This is your reward.” The voice came again, “Now sleep.” 

                  When you awoke again, you awoke in a dark airtight room. You gasped for air but found little. Feeling around, your finger was pricked by the splinter of wood, and you began to understand where you were. 

                  “That’s right.” You thought, “I died. Am I alive? How do I get out?” 

                  With little air left to breathe, you muttered your spell in Latin, “let me out”

                  Violently, with sudden force, the ground around you began to shake and become disrupted. All around you, the wood disintegrated into ash and the ground piled into heaps around the grave. A gust of spinning wind lifted you and released you with a thud onto the grass next to your burial site. You gasped for air, clawing at the ground and squinting to see from the sudden change in light. Your head pounded as you laid there reeling from what had just occurred. 

                  When some of your strength had returned, you sat up and looked around. There was a headstone with your name carved roughly into the stone and the remains of old flower stems strewn about. You wanted to scream for someone, but you knew no one would answer. You wanted Dean, but you knew he wasn’t here. There was no telling how much time had passed since you died and now, but you knew you had to get to civilization. Out in the distance, you heard cattle and followed the sound. Your legs were shaky and uneasy on the ground for the first time since who knows when. Feeling came back to your feet, and you started towards what you thought was life. 

                  After some time, walking through thick woods, you came out into a clearing with a gravel road running around the edge of the tree line. You walked down the road and past the cattle, listening for any sort of engine or signs of humanity. Once you had walked about twenty minutes or so, you came upon a small gas station on the outskirts of a little town, complete with a few run-down cars in the front lawn piled together as some sort of decoration. 

                  A bell dinged when you opened the door and a kind looking man looked up from his newspaper at the counter. You looked at the date and nearly doubled over. It had been exactly a year since you died. For a year, you had been enduring the torture of hell. There was no telling where Sam and Dean were at this point. 

                  “Everything alright dear?” He asked, a concerned look glazing over his face.

                  “Oh, I’m alright.” You answered with a small smile, “Where are we? My car was stolen from me while I was camping.”

                  The man gave you your location as some small town in South Dakota that you didn’t really catch and then started asking questions about the assailment and if you needed medical attention or the police.

                  “I’m fine, thank you. It was a beat-up thing, nothing special. How far are we from Sioux Falls?” 

                  “I’d say we’re about an hour’s drive. A bus comes through here heading towards there in about fifteen minutes if you want to catch it. The next one comes in the morning.”

                  “That’s great. Thank you.” “Do you have a bathroom?”

                  The man happily pointed towards it, “Of course. Down that little hall and to the left.”

                  Once you were in the bathroom you locked the door and threw up. There was nothing being spit out but for the feeling of adrenaline you had knowing how long it’s been and not knowing where anyone was. A few moments passed and you pulled yourself together and collected your thoughts.

                  You scoffed at yourself silently, “I don’t need a bus to take me to Dean. I just need a simple spell.”

                  With the same confidence you held so many times before, you recited your incantation and watched on as you were pinpointed to his direct location. The small bathroom you were in became Bobby’s study room. Sitting at the wooden table, you saw Dean hunched over an old leather-bound book with stacks of others piled high around him. Heavy purple bags hung under his eyes as he read. You couldn’t tell what he was reading about, but you had your guesses. Suddenly, Dean looked up, and turned to face your general direction. He huffed and returned to his book. This hadn’t happened before. 

                  You heard him mumble, “Nothing’s watching you stupid, you’re just tired.”

                  Silently, you headed outside of the bathroom and began for the door.

                  “I’ll just wait outside for the bus, thank you!” You waved.

                  “That’s alright. Have a good one.” 

                  Bus or no bus, you weren’t waiting. You ran behind the building where you were sure no one could see you and began another spell, this one to take you to Bobby’s house. A strong gust of wind blew around you and dust kicked up causing you to close your eyes. Your feet lifted off the ground and the next thing you knew, you were being knocked back onto the ground with force. You groaned, rolling over on the ground and slowly picked yourself back up. You hadn’t been this tired in a long time and you didn’t think the sudden use of so much magic was helping either. 

                  Wordlessly, you walked towards the front door. No one would believe that it was you, especially not Bobby. On the porch you questioned how you’d enter. “Surprise, I’m alive” didn’t seem like the best option, but there didn’t seem to be a better route. You put your hand on the knob of the door and beckoned it to unlock. The click under your fingers signified the effectiveness of your deed and you silently walked inside. Closing the door behind you, you listened for noise. You heard the familiar creaking of the kitchen floor and silently crept through.

                  You peered into the room, not seeing anyone, but sensing that someone must be there.

                  Almost whispering, you said aloud, “Dean?” “Bobby?” “Sammy?” 

                  The moment you stepped inside, a strong arm wrapped around your body and the cool touch of a blade’s edge rested on your neck.

                  Dean’s voice, laced with fury and hate filled the room, “What the fuck are you?” 

                  “Dean it’s me. It’s me! I don’t know why, but it’s me!” Your hands clawed at his arm, trying to get him off you. 

                  “I don’t believe you.” “It was you watching earlier, wasn’t it?” 

                  Before you could answer, you heard running coming from some other part of the house, into the kitchen where you were, “Dean what’s wrong?” 

                  Bobby came in wielding his gun and aimed it at you, “Who the hell are you?” He roared.

                  “Don’t shoot!” You yelled, “I’m Y/N, I’m telling you! Do the tests! Do it!” 

                  Dean’s grip loosened just enough at the offer so that you could disarm and throw him over you. You knew Bobby was trained on you now and you had to be quick. From in front of you, Dean came swinging with the knife he had just picked up, making you duck and jump out of the way. 

                  “I’m telling you the truth!” You swore loudly, “I’m not some demon, Dean.” “Bobby, put that down!”

                  “Like hell you are.” Bobby spat at you.

                  From where he was, Bobby threw a pitcher of holy water at you, waiting for you to ignite somehow. 

                  You spat the water out of your mouth and blinked hard, moving from Dean’s aim as you did. With a shriek, you slipped across the wet floor and into the counter with a thud. Your hip would be bruised after that. 

                  “Dean, hold the fort, I’m getting the flames!” Bobby ran out of the room and left you and Dean alone.             

                  Seeing you vulnerable, Dean jumped onto you, trying to slash at whatever he could before you threw him off you again, cringing a bit when he hit the ground and got right back up to swing once more. 

                  “Dean-” You were exasperated, “That’s enough!” 

                  You threw your arms out and light pulsated from your fingertips. Everything froze in the room where it was, unable to move. Bobby came running back in and before he could make it inside, you sealed off the entrances to the kitchen with a clear wall. His screams for Dean could be heard from the barrier you made. He could see everything happening but couldn’t do anything. 

                  “Give me this!” You took the silver knife from Dean’s hand and stood in front of him, your eyes welling up after getting your first good look at him in months.

                  He looked worse in person. His eyes were red and heavy bags sagged his skin. His undereye was stained purple and a small stubble had grown out. It looked like he’d been wearing the same clothes for more than a day now, and sleep was nowhere to be seen from him.

                  You sighed and dragged the knife across your forearm, “If I were some monster, I couldn’t do this.” 

                  Blood spilled from the spot you dragged the blade over and you softly gasped in pain, squeezing the area once you knew Dean had seen it. 

                  With desperation, you looked at Dean, “Good enough?” 

                  While he was still frozen in place, tears streamed down his cheeks and you released him from the hold, still maintaining the walls to keep Bobby out. You wanted to see him, but you needed Dean first. 

                  Dean released from his frozen state, throwing himself forward at you and pulling you to your knees. He wept as his body shook, arms wrapping in a death grip around you. You cried too, not minding the blood that was now dripping onto the floor. Dean pulled back after a few moments and looked you over. His hands went from being tangled in your hair to wiping the tears off your face and dragging his fingers along your jawline.

                  “It’s really me Dean.” You cried, “I told you I’d always come back to you.”

                  “I tried to find you.” He sobbed, “I promise, I tried to find you.”

                  You raked your fingers through his hair, “You’re okay Dean. You did a good job.” 

                  “Sammy. He left a little while ago to get food.” Dean started rattling things off out of pure shock, telling you about things you hadn’t asked him for, gauging your every reaction to see if you were real. 

                  “Y/N!” You heard Bobby call from the other room, “Let me in damn it!” 

                  The boarder dropped between the kitchen and hall, and he came barreling in, scooping you up into a bear hug and wiping away his tears.

                  “We haven’t stopped looking for a way to get you back since you died.” He said, “It’s not been the same.” 

                  You talked for a second before turning back to Dean who grabbed you once again, not letting you go this time. The two of you stood there forever, basking in each other’s presence. There was little to say but for the occasional “I love you” and “I missed you”. Sam had come back and fondly dropped all the dinner he had just picked up in shock. 

                  Hours came and passed, and the day turned into night. You were disgusting from being in a casket from a year and smelled like dirt and grime. Dean hadn’t left your side all day and wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.

                  You mumbled against his chest “I need a shower.” The two of you were laying on the sofa in silence. 

                  Dean sighed and pulled the two of you off the couch, wordlessly walking you upstairs into the room he was staying in and shutting the door behind him. He kept constant watch over you to make sure you were still there. No matter what you were doing, he was there. It was impossible to do anything alone, even use the bathroom. Dean was convinced you’d slip away, and he’d never see you again. The sound of the shower’s running water pulled you out of your thoughts. Sincere green eyes looked in yours as he hooked his fingers around the hem of your shirt.

                  “You’re fine.” You said softly.

                  With permission to proceed, Dean pulled your remaining clothes off and did the same for himself, guiding the two of you under the hot stream of water. You flinched feeling the water for the first time in what felt like 100 years, startling Dean.

                  He searched for an obvious indicator of what was wrong, “Are you okay?” 

                  “I’m fine.” You answered, “Just not used to this.” 

                  Dean nodded, “tell me if you get uncomfortable.” 

                  From the corner of the shower, Dean grabbed a bottle of your shampoo and lathered it in his hands after you had washed the dirt off your body.

                  “You kept that?” You asked astonished, tears welling up again.

                  “Smells like you. I couldn’t get rid of it.” “The day I got rid of it was the day I accepted that you were gone.” 

                  Dean held you close to him and washed your hair as warm tears streamed down your face. You sniffled and Dean looked at you again, wrapping you in a warm embrace and letting his own tears flow.

                  “I didn’t know what to do without you.” He said honestly, “I can’t function without you.”

                  “I’m sorry Dean.” You said into his shoulder, “I never wanted to leave you.” “I had to.”

                  “I know. It’s our job.” He sniffled, “You did a good thing.” “Let’s just not do it again.”

                  “Agreed.” You chuckled, feeling the last of the conditioner he had run through your hair rinse out.

                  The two of you dried off and changed. He gave you a set of sweatpants and one of his t shirts you always liked to wear. Wordlessly, the two of you fell onto the bed and held each other closely. His breath fanned against your skin in a warm sweep.

                  “Hey. Look at me.” He said, his fingers resting under your chin and pulling you to look at him, “Are you okay?”

                  You hadn’t thought about this yet, only being concerned that you were breathing and with Dean. The flashes of what you currently remembered from hell blipped against your memory and the spaced look you gave Dean told him what he needed to know before you said it.

                  “No.” you answered calmly, “But I know I will be.” 

                  Dean looked at you and spoke sternly but softly, “Don’t hide anything from me. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you start feeling all weird about it tell me. I love you Y/N. I don’t want you to hurt.” 

                  “I promise.” You answered, “I love you two.”                  It was a little while before you felt yourself drifting to sleep, but after a while you managed to. You’d deal with the nightmares and daydreams about hell later. For now, all that mattered was that you were back where you belonged. You were back with Dean.

[kjthenbee]

The more I think about the Nandermo interview scene at the end of S6E3, the more I realize just how significant that entire scene is for Nandor as a character.

These first three episodes have told us multiple times that Nandor is not the person he used to be - he is no longer a purely violent, apathetic, selfish man (though he obviously retains some of those qualities). He's changed - he's softer. And Guillermo is the reason for this change.

We've seen how Nandor used to treat Guillermo early on in the series. I can imagine that when little 19yo Guillermo first came to him, Nandor was dismissive, thinking of him as nothing more than another familiar that he was going to string along for years - and, of course, bright-eyed young Guillermo, who was willing to do whatever it took to become a vampire, wouldn't have cared how he was treated.

But now, 15 some years later, everything is different. Guillermo isn't his familiar anymore. They aren't bound by the power imbalance of that relationship any longer. Guillermo has become someone important to Nandor, possibly more important than anyone has ever been before. No matter how much shit they've gone through, or how much Nandor has fucked things up, Guillermo has always stayed, and he has always cared. Even when he does leave, he never stays gone for long. Nandor has never experienced this type of a relationship with someone before - a relationship with someone who loves and cares for him unconditionally.

In the interview scene, Nandor totally could have messed with Guillermo, could have just... not taken him seriously. He could have done the interview in the main room with all the other vampires and had a laugh about the whole thing, but he didn't. He specifically took Guillermo to a private room to conduct the "interview". And the entire time, he treated it with the utmost sincerity- and you can see it in the way he looks at Guillermo with such attentiveness, such fondness. He lets him talk, and just listens. When Guillermo talks about not having many friends as a child, Nandor sympathizes and tells him that that must have been hard even if he himself does not know what this is like. He smiles with him, and laughs with him.

On top of all of this, Nandor very much could have left Guillermo hypnotized - he could have had his former meek, obedient familiar back by his side. The Nandor from just a couple of seasons ago might have done just that. But now, he's learned. He knows that he can't do that to Guillermo. He can't do that to someone he genuinely loves cares about deeply. The Guillermo that he knows now - confident, competent, and sure of himself - is the Guillermo he loves. Nandor does not want to take that away from him for his own selfish reasons. So, he just lets himself have one thing: Guillermo can sleep under the stairs one last time, then he'll unhypnotize him, and things will be back to the way they were - with them at a distance. But at least Guillermo will be himself.

Soooo yeah. I really hope that this is not just fanservice or whatever and that the writers are actually setting something up between them this time. I want so badly to believe that we might actually get some payoff to this 5 season long will-they-won't-they setup. I mean, seriously - what do the writers have to lose with this being the final season?

I'm trying not to keep my expectations too high just because of how many times we've been burned in the past, but this scene (along with the shed scene where Nandor was still talking like Nixon lmao) have gotten me hopeful again...

So here I am, back in Nandermo hell, one last time...

[gemini-sensei]

hello! your writing is really amazing!! can i please request robby keene with a sweet hyperfem gf that’s a cheerleader or a ballet dancer? maybe how his friends + dad would react to him being with someone pretty opposite him that doesn’t even do karate. thank you sm and once again your writing is awesome 💕

I love this, it's so cute! Thank you so much 🥰

Robby Keene x Cheerleader!Reader

This is a little hijinks and silly fun, so I hope that's okay.

"What do you mean you can't come to training on Saturday? It's mandatory."

Robby stares at his father incredulously. Not for the fact that he's already told him this fact a handful of times, but for the reason that he's pulling shit out of his ass. He's ultimately unimpressed.

"It wasn't mandatory until you just said that," Robby tells him, rolling his eyes. He takes his drink from the fridge, where he'd been stopped, and walks by his oblivious father. "And I've told you this a hundred times now. This isn't new."

"Where do you have to be on Saturday that you can't come to training, huh?" Johnny asks, following after him.

They walk the short distance to the table, where Robby is trying to study for his GED. His father makes that infuriating difficult, however, he'd rather be struggling through that than answer his question. Though it's been long enough that he's been hiding this secret from his father and friends. It's bound to come out eventually, so why not now?

"My girlfriend has a thing," he tells him, intentionally leaving out what the 'thing' is. "I told her I'd go."

"Wait. Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because my son has a girlfriend." Johnny smiles proudly as if this is some big accomplishment. "Is she hot?"

"I'm not feeding into this," Robby tells him, finding that question weird coming from his dad. He's not surprised by it, but that doesn't make it any less weird. "And that's not the point."

"Right, right," Johnny says, sitting back. He pops open a beer despite it only being four o'clock. "Well, just tell her you can't go. If you tell her something else came up, you won't have to go and she won't get upset at you."

"No," Robby sighs, shaking his head. "I told her I'd go and I want to go."

"Well, what is it?"

"Competition."

"What, like a pagent or something?"

"What? No. Just leave it alone."

Robby gathers up his things and takes them to his room, deciding it'd be best to leave the conversation there. Besides, he'd like to study in peace.

○○○

"Where's Robby?"

Johnny gives Daniel a look, his lips pressed thin. "He's not coming. He's going to something his girlfriend is competing in."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Hawk says, inserting himself into the conversation shamelessly. His voice as well as his next question draws in everyone else's attention. "Since when does Robby have a girlfriend?"

"Wait, you guys didn't know about this?" Johnny asks, eyeing Hawk and Miguel as they look back at him curiously. They shake their heads and his frown deepens. "Well, shit."

"So Robby is missing training for his girlfriend?" Demetri asks for clarification, though no one there doubts that he'd do the same if asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And it's because of some sort of competition?" Miguel further inquires.

"That's what he said."

"Aw!" Sam let out with a smile. "That's so romantic. He wants to support her."

"Well, now I'm curious about this mystery girlfriend," Hawk grunts, smirking as he looks at his friends. "I wonder what kind of competition she's in and how much fun he's having there."

"Hold on a second," Daniel says, stopping the teens before they can get too ahead of themselves. "Hawk, whatever you're thinking, it's a no. Whatever reason Robby has for not telling anyone about this girl must be a good one. There's no need to overstep boundaries."

"Fuck boundaries, man. I wanna know who this girl is if she's so special to hide from everyone," Johnny huffs. Daniel glares at him and he glares back, then turns to Hawk and Demetri, the resident cool nerd and huge nerd. "Is there a way for you guys to find out where he's at right now without him knowing?"

"Well, we could check his snapmap and see his location," Demetri says, pulling out his phone.

Hawk watches Johnny's face turn confused and he can't hide his smirk.

"What the hell is a snapmap? Is that some sort of soundboard app or something?"

Everyone looks at him, then each other before Daniel lets out an exasperated sigh. This was not how any of them planned their day, but he seemed to be the only one complaining.

○○○

When they arrive at Robby's location, according to Snapchat of all things, they find themselves at some kind of arena. Johnny leads the pack of nosy teenagers inside but quickly finds himself lost as her tries to navigate the event signs that are posted around the place. Hawk takes the lead, deciding the best course of action is to follow the noise.

Daniel follows begrudging behind his nosy daughter, promising himself to keep them all out of trouble. He sounds like a parrot, repeating himself about how this is a bad idea and how Robby will never trust any of them again if they continue on. "Curiosity killed the cat, ya know."

It isn't long before a woman stops them. She wears a sticker on her shirt that says "Volunteer," but the stern look about her screams wannabe event planner or security, or some horrid mashup of both. "Excuse me, only family and school associates are allowed here."

Ever fast on his feet, Hawk said, "No worries. We're with one of the schools."

"And what school is that?"

Sam spies a board with a list of schools on it, happy to see a convenient option on the list. "West Valley."

The woman's attitude quickly changes. "Oh, are you with the yearbook? Your teacher said you'd be coming, but we never heard anything back from him."

"Yep, that's us," Hawk says, pulling on a photo-ready smile.

"Well, let me get you checked in," the woman says, walking them over to a table.

To keep up their little act, Hawk and Sam babble on about having "finally found the right place" and "getting their stuff out of the car soon." Everyone else stays quiet for the most.

The woman grabs a sheet of stickers and writes on them with a black marker, then passes them out to everyone. When she gets to Johnny and Daniel, she says, "You must be chaperones."

Daniel opens his mouth to say something, but Johnny cuts him off with a quick, "Sure we are." It gets them each a "parent" sticker slapped onto their shirts and they're permitted to keep going.

As they walk, Demetri scoffs. "I can't believe that worked."

They find the entrance to the arena and walk inside, hearing some sort of chant echoing off the walls. As they come out from between the seats, they finally see exactly what kind of competition Robby promised to attend.

A group of cheerleaders took center stage as they went through a routine on the mats. They wear bright smiles as they lift their pompoms into the airs and their pleated skirts swished around their legs. Off to the side, other teams sit as they watch with smiles of their own or talk among themselves, waiting for their turn to go up and show the crowd their moves. Upbeat music plays as the performing group does their thing, keeping the crowd in good spirits.

"Oh my god," Tory laughs. She grins wide, never imagining in her wildest of dreams that Robby Keene would ever date a cheerleader.

Miguel nods along slowly, still a little taken aback by the scene. "This wasn't what I was expecting."

Johnny smiles proudly. "Hell yeah. My son's dating a cheerleader."

"Your son's pissed off," a voice says from behind the group.

They all turn to find Robby standing with a small bucket of popcorn in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. True to his words, he wears a less-than-impressed look on his face. If looks could kill, they'd all be dead where they stand.

Johnny steps forward. "Look, Robby, you can't really be mad at us-"

"The hell I can," Robby cuts him on.

"I told you so," Daniel chimes in.

Sam slaps his arm. "Don't even go there. You came here with us."

"Enough," Robby cut in, gritting his teeth. "I can't believe you guys crashed my girlfriend's competition all because I didn't want to tell you-" he points at Johnny, "about her yet. And shit like this is the reason why, on top of the fact that you make everything that is in the slightest bit feminine into some kind of win to men."

"I don't do that," Johnny says nonchalantly.

"Yes, you do," Robby, and everyone else, responds.

He gives them all a look, but then turns back to Robby. He opens his mouth to speak, but Demetri cuts him off.

"The second you found out it's a cheerleading competition, you counted it as a personal win," he says.

"Shut up," Johnny huffs.

Suddenly, the music stops and the announcer comes on over the loudspeaker. "What a great performance! Give them a round of applause. We'll take a ten-minute break, so refresh your drinks and get ready for the great team from North Hills!"

People start to get up and move around, causing things to get a little chaotic and crowded. Robby takes the opportunity, with a major eye roll, to slip away. He walks back to his seat or rather stomps back once he steps onto the bleachers.

His eyes scan the arena but it doesn't take long for him to find the group of cheerleaders he's looking for. Not too far away, North Hills stands, going through some last-minute stretches before their performance. Among them, his girlfriend is drinking from her water bottle. Her hair is done perfectly, there isn't a single crease in her uniform, and she looks absolutely beautiful. Her uniform shows off all of her curves whilst keeping things modest, giving Robby an eyeful of her shapely legs.

As she caps her water off, their eyes meet and she smiles really big. She throws up her hand in a cute wave and he smiles back, momentarily forgetting his anger. He waves back and she blows him a kiss. Only for her, he pretends to catch it and press it to his lips, which makes her giggle.

On the lower levels of the bleachers, farther away from Robby but not too far that they can't see him, his father, friends, and Sensei watch. They're still equal parts curious as much as they are feeling guilty - at least most. Unapologetically, Hawk smirks as he watches the little interaction between the no-longer-secret-lovers.

"That's Robby's girlfriend?" Demetri asks, pointing out Reader among the group of North Hills cheerleaders.

Tory smirks. "She's cute."

Hawk chides, "More than cute."

"I just can't believe Robby would hide the fact that he has a girlfriend," Johnny huffs. He shakes his head, still in a state of semi-disbelief as he watches the group, studying the girl who looks to be his son's complete opposite. "A cheerleader at that."

"Gee, Johnny, I wonder why he'd do such a thing," Daniel deadpans.

Johnny goes to respond hotly, but the announcer comes on to bring everyone's attention back onto the competition. Soon, the North Hills team is coming onto the mats and getting into formation. They take their deep breaths, smiling big and pretty for everyone. Then the music started and they began their routine.

○○○

After all of the teams performed and the winner was announced, the room became chaos, but Robby could care less about the people around him. He makes his way down the bleachers to reach Reader, who is celebrating with her team by jumping with joy and talking over each other. They hold a big, shiny trophy as they squeal and congratulate themselves for working so hard to win.

She sees him as he's walking over and she lets out a giddy squeal of his name. She rushes to him and he catches her in a hug, holding her tight as she squeezes him.

"We won! We won!" she cheers happily.

He smiles and kisses her cheek. "I knew you would."

She pulls back, smiling at him. Her eyes shine as she looks at him. "Really?"

"Of course," he tells her. He has always believed in her. This is what she's passionate about, so how could she not win? "I got these for you."

He holds out the flowers for her and she takes them with so much care and admiration. "Aww, thank you! I love them!"

She throws her arms around him again, this time around his neck, and kisses him. He happily kisses back, holding her waist. He pulls her close, against him so that they can deepen the kiss and really share the moment. It's her day and nothing beats a hot kiss from your boyfriend after all the hard work paying off.

However, a whistle interrupts them followed by loud clapping. "Hell yeah!" someone yells and Robby pulls away annoyed.

He looks over to find his father and the others watching him. He glares at his dad, letting him know that he is not at all amused or happy with his presence there. In fact, the anger bubbles back up and his jaw clenches as he stares down his friends.

"I still can't believe you're here," he grumbles, cutting each of them a look.

Demetri and Miguel at least look a little guilty and remorseful, whilst Daniel practically chastises Johnny for encouraging all of this behavior and invasion of privacy. Tory looks amused as all Hell while Hawk takes the moment to shamelessly check out some of Reader's friends.

Sam smiles kindly. "Well, all of our meddling aside, I think it's sweet you skipped practice to be here."

Robby wants to roll his eyes, but Reader grabs onto his jacket and catches his attention. He looks at her and almost melts.

"You missed your practice for me?" she asked cutely.

He hums and gives a little shrug like it isn't a big deal. "I told you I'd be here."

"Aww," she lets out, smiling wide. She plants a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a little lipstick mark there.

He blushes as his friends watch, but he can't bring himself to care too much with her in his arms. She makes it impossible to be a grump when she's around, easily the best part of his days.

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

[lusmeitli]

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him. 

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together. 

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left. 

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?” 

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily. 

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand. 

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped. 

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

[beargirlmj]

an idea for the next story about Kim Minjeong. I really like her in 'Drama' and I'd like a story where she's cold, like she's a troublemaker, you know? Everyone thinks she is mean to the reader, but Winter is very needy in private. It's just an idea, if you're going to write, you can write at your own time :)

Oh, my first request! I loved the idea, so here it is.

Behind the Ice.

genre : fluff.

warning(s) : none.

At school, Kim Minjeong was the kind of person no one dared to contradict. She walked the hallways as if she owned everything, with a closed-off expression and cutting words always at the ready. If you crossed her path, you’d likely receive a chilling glance or a sarcastic comment that would linger in your mind for hours. It was hard to believe that someone like her could have any trace of vulnerability. At least, that’s what everyone believed.

Except you.

When Minjeong passed by you at school, it was always the same scenario. An "accidental" shove, a provocative look, and, of course, a biting comment in front of others. “Don’t be a nuisance, Y/N. I don’t have patience for you.” The laughter around was inevitable, and everyone at school assumed you were her favorite target.

But when classes ended and you were alone, everything changed.

After a long day of provocations, you went to the study room where, once again, you were bound to encounter Minjeong. She was there, as always, already waiting for you. As soon as you walked in, the cold air seemed to vanish almost instantly.

“Finally,” she grumbled, but her voice lacked the sharpness from before. Without waiting for any response, Minjeong stood up from her chair and walked over to you with an expression that was almost... needy.

Before you could react, she wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight embrace. The chill from moments ago seemed to have completely evaporated. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel the warmth of her breath on your skin.

“I missed you,” she murmured against your neck, her voice soft and full of need. You froze for a moment, still trying to process how the girl who had treated you so coldly moments before was now clinging to you as if you were her safe haven.

“Minjeong, you treated me badly all day,” you said, your voice almost confused but not really trying to pull away.

She simply sighed, holding the embrace a little tighter. “I do this because I need to maintain appearances,” she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your neck. “But here... here I can be myself.” Without warning, she pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your neck, causing an instant shiver to run through your body.

“You’re so strange,” you tried to joke, but your voice trembled slightly with the closeness.

“Shhh,” she mumbled, trailing her lips up to your cheek and leaving a loving kiss there as well, followed by another. And another. It was as if she was trying to make up for all the distance she displayed at school with an overwhelming intensity when you were alone.

“You’re so mean in front of everyone, and then you act like this with me? How does that make sense?” you asked, half laughing at the situation.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice low, still with her face pressed against yours. “But... I need you, Y/N.” Her words were so sincere that for a moment you forgot all the provocations and cold looks you had endured throughout the day. Minjeong pulled you even closer, as if afraid of losing you, and murmured again: “I need you.”

Before you could think of any response, she tilted her head and placed another kiss, this time more lingering, on your neck, making your heart race. You knew Minjeong was needy, but the contrast between her cold demeanor and the desperate way she clung to you in private was something you were still learning to handle.

“Minjeong...” you began, but your voice was interrupted as she continued to place a series of soft kisses on your cheek, her arms still firmly around your waist.

“Don’t say anything,” she asked softly, now with her face buried in your shoulder. “Just stay here with me.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around her and returning the embrace. In the end, no matter how complicated and confusing Kim Minjeong’s dichotomy was, you knew that deep down, she just wanted to be loved – even if she didn’t know how to show it to the outside world.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…

warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)

word count: 3,888

-Part 2[*]-

“How was she today?”

You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.

“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.

Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.

Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.

“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.

“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.

It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.

You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.

Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.

What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?

“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.

A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.

But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.

So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”

“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.

“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?

“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.

“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.

“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.

“What else?”

You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.

“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.

My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.

“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”

“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.

His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.

“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”

“What did you think?”

You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I know she says that, but—”

“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”

“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”

Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”

“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”

“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”

“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”

“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.

“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”

“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”

His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?

Anti-climactic.

Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.

“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.

His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.

He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.

“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”

There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.

“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.

“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.

It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.

But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”

“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.

He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.

“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”

Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”

Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.

But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.

“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”

“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”

And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?

For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.

“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”

You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.

In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.

But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.

How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.

He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.

But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?

Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.

He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[keisins]

gojo satoru x reader. fwb!au. angst to comfort/fluff

kind of a sequel to this

You’ve been ghosted.

To be fair, you had kind of expected this. Key work: kind of. You try to not let your heart constrict itself into an organ of loathe, depression and hatred for the past 3 weeks.

Unfortunately, the agony still sits on your granite kitchen counter three weeks later. It’s in the box of his stuff he had the nerve to leave behind, along with all the thread-like semblance of hope you had for your future together. (How foolish of you, really.)

The kitchen itself, however, is empty. The living room you’re standing in — also empty. Your family and friends who came to help you move your stuff to your new apartment left a few minutes ago. They’re on their way there first to pick up some food before all of you move more heavy boxes into the place. And you’re grateful.

Grateful that you have people in your life that don’t ghost you, even if you can count them on a hand. People that care. That are consistent in your life. That aren’t curse-bound.

God, you hated him for the first week. Hated how even though you tried to make his habitual appearances not a part of your routine, you find yourself missing the white hair that tickles your neck when you search for a fresh set of pajamas, the clingy hands that harbor not-so-innocent touches as you put on skin care, and even sometimes, in the morning when you didn’t have the heart to kick him out the last night, the most amateur brewing of coffee you’ve ever had because who needs coffee when you have Gojo Satoru to keep you energized.

You shake your head to rid your thoughts. You take a deep breath in, ready to say goodbye to the place, goodbye to the memories, ready to let the box be discarded away just like he has done to you.

And just as you almost let go, you feel it.

You feel him. You don’t turn. You can’t. Because it cannot be real. You know what’s real and it’s not tender kisses and hands intertwined, it’s a job in a new city, in a new position. Life is not Gojo Satoru, it’s a new apartment.

Yet, there in your old apartment, you come to life upon hearing his voice.

“I see you’ve changed the place.”

His joke comes soft and light, as if to not scare you. Because he has to know that you are livid. He keeps his distance. Though, everything in Satoru is compelled to hold you. He thinks your name must be carved into his bones, with the way it urges his joints to reach for you, always always drawn to you.

You still haven’t turned. Still in shock, because this has to be a hallucination. Some sick joke from the universe, maybe. He calls your name, but before he can close his mouth, you turn around and ask harshly, “What are you doing here?”

Tears are already brimming at your eyes. You find yourself looking at him for the first time in a long time and it makes your heart ache. You could hear him out, but there is something in you that doesn’t want to. You had been raised with impatient needs, always in a rush to satisfy the ones who claimed to love you. Love is patient, love is kind, and you want it so bad to not be love.

A moment of silence passes by as Gojo bores into you, until his heart caves and takes a big step toward you, tests the water by taking your hand in his.

And you cry, weakly shrugging away, before he’s pulling you into the warmest embrace of your life.

“I’m sorry.” He catches sight of the box on the counter and can only guess what it could be. He’s been so selfish with his love for you, that he had forgotten about the treachery that so greatly tries to seep through his infinity. Gojo hadn’t accounted for it, didn’t ever in his life think he could feel afford to be humbled. But, as he stands there with you falling apart in his arms, he feels intimidated. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you.” Are you okay? How have you been? Where did you go? He hums softly, still caging you with his arms. You dare to ask, because to love is to be vulnerable, “Where were you?”

He holds you tighter, his eyes threatening to drop some tears of their own. He laughs and you can hear how watery it is when he tells you, “A box.”

You pull away, brows furrowed as you look up at him. He wipes away a falling tear on your cheek before pulling you into him again, desperate for you to not see him cry.

“I’ll explain later… Just let me hold you right now.”

[villifix]

fairy wings and bloody knees ♡ | daryl dixon

word count: 1.9k

A/N: this is really just daryl and reader's daughter. reader is mentioned but not seen during this fic. eventually i will get around to making a part 2 with daryl x reader! this idea was inspired by @louifaith and i included a piece of artwork by @vaebun at the end of the story that is absolutely ADORABLE. please take a moment to view both of their blogs for great content! ♡ also i didn't do much proofreading so forgive meee

"I like your fairy wings."

It took a moment to register the words before Daryl realized they were directed at him, and another moment for him to realize that - shit - so was a pair of big brown eyes. His boots came to a slow stop as he regarded the child. The girl couldn't have been older than six, a tiny little thing with unruly curls and scabbed knees, gripping a piece of pink sidewalk chalk in one hand. Her curls fell into her face as she leaned to try and look behind him, clearly wanting another glance at the wings on his vest.

The fuck?

"Ain't no fairy." Daryl muttered gruffly, unsure of what to make of the girl. A lock of hair clung to the corner of her mouth and she pushed it away, smearing pink chalk over her cheek in the process. He let her walk behind him as he quickly scanned the area, looking for any sign of a guardian but it seemed the girl was just out playing on her own; it was strange to him, to be in a place where someone would feel safe enough to let their child outside without being right behind them. It reminded him a bit of his youth, before his mother died, when she'd send him out to ride on his bike and tell him to be back when the streetlights came on. Different times. Now, that sort of thing felt too irresponsible. Too risky - even with walls.

He felt a pressure against his back and jumped, turning to look at the little girl as she grinned up at him. Her hand was still raised in the air, fingers outstretched and tinted pink. Daryl had half a mind to tell her to quit it, to go find her mom or pops and leave him be, but a little giggle tumbled past the girl's lips and he found himself short of words. Not a moment later she turned and bounded, leaving Daryl alone. For the remainder of the day, he was entirely unaware of the little pink handprint lingering on the back of his vest.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The following day, Carol was the first to notice that Daryl had managed to acquire a shadow. She met Daryl’s eye as Aaron led him and Abraham down the road and the archer found himself pausing at the hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “What?” Daryl questioned, eyes narrowing at the amusement painting his friend’s features. Ahead of him, Aaron and Abraham noticed him hanging back and came to a stop, waiting. “Spit it out.” “Just think you’ve got an admirer, that’s all.” Carol teased, looking past him with a knowing smile. Frowning, Daryl turned to follow her line of sight just in time to see a familiar mop of curls duck behind a mailbox. Daryl let out a quiet huff, shoulders relaxing minutely. The girl wasn’t any good at hiding - not with the way her whole body could still be seen behind the base; she’d clearly dressed herself that day, too - floral overalls clashing with a bright, striped shirt. It didn’t look like she had any chalk that he’d have to be on the lookout for, at least. He could still hear Rick’s chuckles from the night before when he’d pointed out the handprint on his vest. With a dismissive shake of his head, Daryl turned back, moving to continue on with Aaron and Abraham. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a kid.” “Look at you, already a hit with the ladies!” Abraham chaffed, earning a pointed scowl.

“Stop.” Aaron glanced between the two men with a relaxed smile, sparing a glance towards where the girl peeked her head out from behind the mailbox, watching from a distance. Aaron offered a little wave, to which the girl returned a cheeky smile, pressing a finger to her lips as if her presence was a secret between the two of them. “That’s Remy.” “Remy?” Daryl echoed, unamused. “Yeah, Remy. Short for Remington, but for your own safety just call her Remy.” “Remington?” Abraham cut in, unable to contain the amusement in his tone. “Like the rifles?” “I think so. I’m pretty sure her dad picked it.” Aaron told them, motioning for them to follow as he continued down the road. He’d mentioned wanting to introduce Abraham to one of the community members that ran the construction projects for Alexandria, and planned on taking Daryl to speak with Deanna after; she was still figuring him out, trying to decide which job would suit him best. He might’ve had time to brew on how much he couldn’t stand Deanna’s attempts to categorize him if his thoughts weren’t still stuck on the girl - Remy. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, just enough to notice that she was trailing behind as they walked, eyes downcast and focusing hard as she balanced on the curb of the street while she followed. “She always just out here on ‘er own?” “Not exactly,” Aaron explained, considering his words before adding, “mostly just in the afternoons when she doesn't feel like sitting in class with the other kids. She's usually with her mom whenever she isn’t helping in the infirmary. Actually, I've been meaning to take you all by there - have you met (Y/N) yet?” “Nah.” Daryl muttered, finding no recollection of the name. “What about ‘er dad? He dead?" “Well, no. That’s, uh… a bit more complicated.” A brief silence fell over the them, and when Aaron peeked from the side of his eye to see that Abraham and Daryl were both still waiting for an answer, he let out an uncomfortable sigh. After looking back to ensure Remy was far enough that his words wouldn’t carry, he continued in a softer tone. “Her dad is around but not really around. It’s a long story - and really, not mine to tell - but... alright, they have an arrangement that Deanna settled between them. He gives Remy half of his rations every week, outside of what he hunts for the pantry, and (Y/N)... well, I guess you can say she has 'custody'. Like I said... it's complicated.” While Daryl’s lip twitched with irritation, Abraham let out a low whistle. “Well, ain’t that 'bout a bitch. Whole world goes to shit and you still can’t get outta child support.” It took a solid few seconds for the redhead to register that Daryl and Aaron were both staring at him, deadpanned, before he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just sayin’!” Daryl didn’t find any of it funny in the slightest. It was bad enough that a kid had to grow up in a world like they were living in, but to have a deadbeat dad on top of it? And the Alexandrians, they just let it slide - let him give her some food and throw the rest of his duties as a parent aside.

Bullshit. This place, these people, this attempt at 'normal' life. A bunch of bullshit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Talking to Deanna left him in the same spot he was in before. For whatever reason, she couldn't seem to figure out what to do with him even though he already knew the answer was obvious. He didn't belong in these walls, wasn't built for playing house and acting like there weren't monsters lingering around dark corners beyond the streets of Alexandria. It wasn't the dead that really bothered him, not after Terminus... not after the Claimers or Grady Memorial.

There were people out there that would come across a place like this and do the unthinkable and it wouldn't matter how nice their houses were or what casseroles they could make - they would suffer because they were weak and unprepared. He wasn't built to sit back and be vulnerable. He needed to be out there, hunting or scavenging or making sure the people that would hurt them stayed far enough away.

He thought going out and catching some game could clear his mind some. So, after stopping by and checking out his crossbow, Daryl headed towards the gate without much of a plan except to get out of the walls. But of course, it wouldn't never be so easy.

If he hadn't been so on edge in this new place, he wouldn't have heard the sniffle. It didn't take very long to find the source of it - Remy, pressed up against the trunk of a maple tree, blood trailing from her knees down to her ankles. She'd had to have fallen, tearing open scabs that were still healing. Though her knees were bloody and raw, cheeks wet with fresh tears, she didn't seem to pay them any mind.

Following her gaze to where she stared off in the distance longingly, Daryl quickly pieced together what was really upsetting her. Lingering by the front gate, in conversation with one of the other Alexandrian men, was a man with a hunting rifle strapped onto his back. A Remington rifle. That was her dad. Her dad, getting ready to go out on a hunt while she sat here with torn knees and a yearning heart. Well... he'd be damned if he were going to walk away from that.

"Must be clumsy." His own voice sounded foreign to him as he took a step into her view, trying hard to sound casual though he wasn't entirely sure how to approach the situation. Those big puppy-dog eyes looked up at him and he could have sworn he felt like somebody kicked him in the gut.

"Clumsy?" Remy echoed, confused, and sniffled again as she reached up and swiped her nose with the back of her arm.

"Means ya fall a lot." Daryl explained.

"My daddy's leaving." Remy blurted, lower lip quivering a bit as she looked past Daryl to see the man finally stepping out the gate, pushing it shut behind him.

Daryl looked over his shoulder towards the gate, acknowledging the man's departure with a sideways glance. "He come tell you goodbye?" Remy merely shook her head in response and Daryl hummed, unsurprised. He looked down to her knees, considering, before pulling a rag from his pack and kneeling down beside her. "Here, lemme see."

Remy extended one leg as Daryl gently reached for her ankle, watching with a pout as he wiped the blood from her shin before switching to the next leg and doing the same. Her knees were still bleeding a bit, but her legs weren't dripping blood anymore, at least. When he dropped her second leg, Remy blinked up at him through watery lashes. "I want Mommy."

Daryl met those doe eyes of hers, thinking back to the conversation with Aaron earlier that day. He'd mentioned Remy's mom - (Y/N) - helping in the infirmary. Seemed the girl probably needed to get some gravel cleaned out of her knees, anyways...

"C'mon. Let's go find yer ma." Daryl told her, pushing himself back to his feet and holding out a hand for her to grab onto to. As soon as Remy pulled herself up, though, she tried to take a step and limped, whining loudly. Not a second later, Daryl was instinctively scooping her up, resting her on his hip; and Remy, instinctively, reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her towards the infirmary to see you. Her messy curls tickled his stubble as she tucked her head against his neck, and if it weren't for that alone, then surely it was when he walked into the infirmary and laid eyes on you for the first time that Daryl Dixon knew one thing for certain...

He was so fucked.

artwork by @vaebun !! ♡

[lola-bunn1]

can u do one where neteyam is expected to find a mate and you get distant and all bc yk its not gonna be you and another guy makes a move on u and he gets mad n confession n stuff? i love ur writing

oblivious

❥ genre: angsty ish to fluff

10 years, you've been best friends with neteyam for 10 years. you both saw each other grow up, and now it's over. you know it is

neteyam has finally matured, he was ready to get an ikran, ready to go hunting with the others, and most of all, he was now expected to mate.

you know whoever he's gonna mate with is not gonna like you being friends with him, you admit it yourself, you wouldn't like your partner spending time with another girl. so you understood why it would happen

so you began distancing yourself, as a preparation. but also to ease the pain for when you finally see him with someone that isn't you. it was bound to happen. you were stupid enough to fall for him, and now it was going to be harder than it should be

you cried, you cried at night just thinking about the way life would be, you were sure he didn't feel the same, besides, he was going to be the next olo'eyktan, he needed to have someone proper, someone actually important

who were you to be mating with someone like him? he would probably pick elmirìey, she was a proper girl, a gorgeous one. or maybe he'd pick awia, she was a great warrior, from a great family

not only did you distance yourself from him, but his family too. you were so close to them, hell even neytiri liked you. but now, you acted like you didn't even know them

you sat at a special spot you found in the forest, you and neteyam used to come here but he's too busy now. so its just you

"hey!" you heard a voice behind you

"oh, neteyam" you said

"what a way to greet me, do you not want me around that much?"

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows

"don't be like that. you know exactly what I'm talking about." he said

"I heard you're looking for a mate now that you've had your ceremony"

he sighed, knowing you're trying to change the subject, "yeah. but to be honest, I've already found one. Just gotta figure out a way to tell her"

your heart shattered.

"oh, that's nice. I um, I have to go" you said

"y/n wait-"

and with that, you ran off somewhere, your tears sliding down your cheeks, how could he find one so fast? does he love her that much? has he been loving her, just waiting for his ceremony so he can finally pick her?

"oh" you heard a voice and sighed

"I'm sorry I ran--" you said, turning around to see that it was not neteyam speaking

"are-are you okay? you look like you've been crying" the man said

"i'm fine, thanks tenio" you said, wiping your tears

tenio was a fine young man, he was actually really nice, but you've never really talked to him

"i was just looking for some fruits to pick for my mother, but ill leave you alone-"

"no no, you can stay uh, i know where you can get the ripe ones, follow me" you said, walking along the forest with him next to you, you two talked for a bit as he was picking the fruit

"i heard you had your ceremony the other day" you said

"yeah, it sucks though." he said

"wait what? why so?" you asked

"well everyone is waiting for me to mate with someone, but there isn't anyone in my life, ill have to mate with some random stranger" he sighed

"oh...im so sorry"

"it's fine-"

"there you are!" neteyam's voice filled your ears, he turned to see tenio there, and his face faltered

"let's go" he said, grabbing your hand and walking away, an angry look on his face, you definitely did not want to do anything to upset him more

"uh, tell your mother i said hi! enjoy the fruits!" you said and he just nodded

once he was out of sight you pulled away

"why were you with him?!" he said

"i was just helping him pick fruits!"

"everybody knows that trick! you help him and he subtly mentions that he has nobody to mate with so you can feel bad"

"you're being insane right now. nobody has ever done that" you rolled your eyes

"they have, you just never realize it" he yelled

"what if i do realize it, hm? what if i want them to do it? why don't you go tell your stupid girl how much you want her to be your mate and leave me alone!"

"i can't go"

"why not!" you yelled

"because she's standing right in front of me"

"what?"

"it's you, y/n. i don't want anyone else why don't you understand that? you think I don't notice how you've been avoiding me and my family too?"

"i-i avoided you because i couldn't stand seeing you with another girl."

"wait-you thought i was gonna mate with someone else?" he asked

you looked down and avoided looking at him, he lifted your chin up with his finger

"i've been waiting for years to finally make you mine, y/n. it hurts me to see you with anyone else too."

"really?" you asked

"i see you, y/n."

"i see you, ma nete" you smiled, and the two of you shared a kiss

how were you so oblivious?

[rookiesbookies]

Boys reacting to their s/o smacking their ass

Here’s the boys I write for (might add Horangi and Kruger to the roster)

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always

Please for the love of god leave me request, TELL ME WHAT YOU ALL WANT <3

Fic under the cut

Price

Whoever let his wife on base the day they were breaking in new recruit was so fucking dead. He bets it was Simon. Yeah, his wife always brought a home cooked meal for the team. Yeah, he always got smooches and got to feel her up at work. But he never expected this behavior from his sweet little wife when she knew how new recruit days were.

He bets it was Soap and Gaz, daring her to do it. They loved trying to get her in trouble, which is why he never allowed his kids to be watched by them. Lord knows how much trouble the two would encourage.

He heard it before he felt it. It echoed in the open field. Probably heard for miles.

She let out a squeak as he slowly turned to look at her, recruits had stopped the exercises they were doing and she bolted from the stand they were on watching.

“It wasn’t supposed to be that loud!” She squeaked, “Gaz and Soap told me to do it! They said you’d find it funny! That if I did it they wouldn’t beg me for baked goods ever again!”

As she jogged ahead to keep the distance between them as his long strides were closing the distance with ease.

“Simon has the kids, I should really go check on him! Your sons can be quite the handful! I think I hear him calling for me now, I should really go!” She squeaked out more, her jog quickly turning to a run as she took off through the base.

He quickly snatched her up.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to Kyle and Johnny.” John grumbled.

Soap

Stupid fucking booty shorts. Soap had found her stupid booty short in his laundry. He was now prancing around the shared apartment in them. They were so small on him she was surprised he could fit in them and knew he was in no way comfortable, he was however, a great actor. They were so short the bottoms of his spandex underwear were longer by like 2 inches.

“Johnny, take them off.”

“No,” he retorted proudly, “they were in my laundry so they’re mine now.”

That was the line she used to steal his undershirts so they could be used as nightgowns.

She grumbled, “fine,” before getting an idea.

He was making pancakes in the kitchen, breakfast for dinner Saturdays, as they both had started. His apron was even longer than the short, jeez. He continued shaking ass to whatever song was in his headphones as he hummed along to it.

“Target locked,” she mumbled to herself. Sneaking in.

The smack echoed. His ass was pulled so tight in them it basically slipped out to jiggle from the hit. He folded backwards in dramatics.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!” He cried as if he was radioing to his team. “Taking the enemy down with me, sir!”

She was laughing too hard to pay attention as his hand connected with her ass. The sweatpants muffled it but she fell to the ground too.

Ghost

She always pinched his ass. Especially if he was fresh from the gym. The first time had surprised him but after that he was pretty good at predicting it and catching her hand.

However, a full on smack at a pub celebrating with the boys? Oh that was new.

She was drunk, so he had expected something dumb from her. He was bound to do something dumb too. But he was going to wait until they got home and not when he was bent over the bar slightly to talk to the bartender over the loud music.

He thought he heard a record scratch as her hand connected with his butt. He turned around, throwing his card at Johnny. Letting him know to buy himself a drink and pay for their tab before pulling her out as she giggled.

He’d handle this at home.

But for now he planted a light pat pat on her butt and her eyes went wide.

“Haha sorry Simon, I’ve sobered up now! You can put me down!”

Konig

She had been hugging him from behind after his most recent return from a mission. He was stirring the soup she had started for herself, not expecting him to be home for another week or so.

“Meine Taube, can you go put my mask up.” He handed her his mask off his face, leaning down to give a peck on the lips, “I will give you the kiss you deserve when you return.”

She had pittered off down the hall a bit when she got an idea. Perhaps revenge for how he had surprised her when he got home.

She was listening to music loudly, swaying her hips and humming when he got home. It was dark out so she hadn’t noticed the car being his as it drove past, and she hadn’t noticed the sound of the front door unlocking either.

All she knew was a hand connected with her ass while another covered her mouth to muffle her scream, while she had been cooking. She was so scared it was an intruder.

So she began to seek out revenge. She slid on the hood and did her best quiet walk before getting behind Konig who thought she was back from putting up his mask.

SMACK.

It echoed down the hall as she bolted. His heavy steps followed with an all too large smirk on his face.

He found her hiding behind a giant laundry basket and pulled her out from behind it by her ankle. She clutched the mask to her chest with wide eyes, forgetting the size of her husband.

“There was this crazy noise, I think it was a gunshot! I had to duck for cover, I thought they had come for you!” She rambled as she pulled her down the hall by her ankle, her back to the floor and her shirt riding up. “I was so worried but that was a crazy noise! I wonder where it came from!”

“Uh-huh.”

Keegan

This man is 8 kinds of caked up. His girlfriend knows it and so does he. Its not like Gaz’s relationship where only the girlfriend does the ass smacking, in Keegan’s it goes both ways.

“Hey, lovey, can you reach the cinnamon for me?”

Little did this poor man know, this was a set up. The cinnamon never ends up that high up. So when he reached, a crack echoed through the apartment.

She fell over laughing so hard at the noise it made. She curled up laughing on the floor. She almost couldn’t breath as Keegan went over to the fridge and added a tally to her side of the mini white board.

“Damn, you’re three ahead of me this month! I'm impressed. You’re getting sneakier,” he said as she gasped she was laughing so hard. “Did you even need the cinnamon?”

She shook her head and he sighed.

“Ah hell. I gotta catch up now.”

It wasn’t until after dinner when he did, sneaking one in as she was washing plates. She almost dropped the one she had been scrubbing.

Gaz

Gaz wasn't one for grabbing or smacking people's behinds, but his girlfriend was a different story—she seemed to have made a sport out of it. Every time he bent over or even when he least expected it, she was there to strike.

Soap seemed to encourage this behavior.

It was a rare sight to see Simon giggle, but this was the only time it happened.

Even Price couldn't help but stifle a laugh every time Gaz looked shocked at his girlfriend's antics.

What Gaz never mentioned was that he didn't really mind it and had never asked her to stop. There was one time when she didn't do it, and he turned around looking genuinely concerned, asking if that was how she was breaking up with him. Feeling guilty, she had to continue the act because Gaz was in on it, though the others didn't know. They enjoyed making Simon laugh so much he had to bite his mask to muffle it.

When they were drunk, she and Soap even played a game to see if Gaz could figure out who did it. Sometimes, Gaz would turn around to see his girlfriend across the bar, completely confused.

The whole situation was a hilarious secret between them, with Gaz never letting on that he was actually into it. Gaz saw no reason to let the cat out of the bag. The amused glances and hidden smirks between him and his girlfriend were their little inside joke.

Remember to submit requests, check out the masterlist pinned on my account, and let me know what you want to see!

[runnning-outof-time]

Congratulations, I adore your story!!

Could you please do 23 with angst and then fluff? Thank you so much I appreciate it!💕

Thanks so much for sending this in, anon! I’m so happy you like my stories! I decided to go with Tommy for the character and chose “I don’t want to go.” for the prompt because it was the 5 word #23. I hope you don’t mind that. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

To Keep You Safe

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: season 4 spoilers (like right from the jump), language

Word Count: 1042

Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy discuss the decision to have her go into hiding while the war with the Changrettas rages on.

Things were heating up in the vendetta between the Shelbys and the Changrettas. What both sides thought would be a quick battle had now turned into a full-on war. And after Luca managed to get to Michael in his hospital bed and try to get him to switch sides, Tommy was convinced that no one was safe.

He called a family meeting. He arranged it in the morning and it was set for that evening. The air in the room was so thick with tension that you could practically cut it with a knife. (Y/N) noted that they were currently in the midst of a thunderstorm, which she had a feeling was foreshadowing for what was to be talked about.

And oh boy was she right. Things were quiet between her and Tommy that night. Neither of the two spoke a word to the other before they both went to sleep.

(Y/N) didn’t really sleep much though. No matter how many times she wished it wouldn’t, tomorrow still came.

Soon enough, there was a man in a car sitting outside their Watery Lane home.

“I don’t want to go,” (Y/N) huffed as she crossed her arms. She was aware of how much she sounded like their three year old daughter, but she quite frankly didn’t care.

“You have to, love,” Tommy insisted, not wanting this to turn into something bigger than it had to be.

“Why?” she asked, her one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Don’t fucking start…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“You owe me a reason, Thomas. I’m not just going to be shipped off into the fucking wilderness for no fucking reason,” she harped on, sharing her feelings about the decision that had been made — essentially without her consent — the night prior.

“You know why,” he told her, insisting it was common sense.

“Enlighten me anyway,” she shrugged.

“(Y/N).”

“Tommy.”

“It’s to keep you safe!” he finally came out with it, his voice raising as his eyes went wide, showing the frustration and stress he was currently under. “It’s to keep you fucking safe.”

(Y/N) was taken back by his outburst, but she really should have expected it. She was poking a bear; a powder keg that was bound to explode sooner or later. “You’re keeping me safe here, though. And besides, it was agreed between the both of you: no civilians. No women or children,” she pointed out in a softer voice, recalling the rules of the vendetta that he’d told her a few weeks prior.

“Yeah, I know that was agreed upon,” Tommy started, nodding as a sigh escaped his lips, “but with how things are going…we need to expect everything. And I can’t have you get taken by him or his men as a way to get me. So I need you to go. Just for a little while.”

Silence fell between them as she took a minute to think things over. The last thing she wanted to do was leave Tommy’s side while all of this was going on.

“I don’t want to leave you, Tommy,” was the next thing she said. She couldn’t get through the sentence without choking up, tears brimming up in her eyelids.

Tommy exhaled a breath before he closed the short distance between them, taking her into his arms just as her body began to shake from her sobs. “It’ll just be a little while, love,” he spoke in a soft voice, his chin rested on the top of her head as he rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

They stood like that for a few minutes. (Y/N) had no shame in crying into her husband’s suit coat. She didn’t want to let him go and leave because she was afraid that this would be the last time she’d see him.

“Hey, the car’s waiting outside,” Tommy was the one to speak first. He loosened his hold on her as he did, moving his hands to her shoulders so that he could bring her out at arms length.

“I know,” (Y/N) nodded, sniffling as she wiped her tears away. “I’ll miss you, Tommy,” she added then, looking at him with watery eyes.

“I’ll miss you too, love,” he responded without a second thought, raising one hand to run it down her cheek.

“Make sure you go visit the kids for me…or at least send Pol or someone if you think it’s too risky,” she added, thinking of her children who were currently residing at her parents’ home.

“I will,” he assured her with a nod.

(Y/N) took a moment to look at her husband then, making sure she could commit every part of him to memory. She didn’t know when she’d see him next. Her bottom lip began to quiver as that thought stuck in her mind.

“It’s just a little while,” Tommy repeated what he’d said to her before.

“I know,” she nodded, holding back the tears. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated the phrase, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. (Y/N) held him there, making their embrace as long as it could possibly be. But eventually she had to pull away, and as she did, she finally decided it was time. “I should go.”

“I’ll come get you when this is finished,” he promised her, their eyes locked as he spoke.

“Just stay alive,” she said to him, sending one last smile her way before they finally broke their embrace so that she could grab her things.

Tommy ushered her outside and made sure she got into the vehicle. He then gave the driver and his accomplice strict instructions on what to do. After sending one last smile to (Y/N), he let them go and headed back inside.

He took two steps away from the door and placed his hands onto the side table sitting there so that he could brace himself as he leaned back against it. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, his family flashing in his mind. Then he released the breath he’d been holding and stared straight ahead. This vendetta would be finished soon, and he’d make damn sure of it.

**tags are in a reblog, so that hopefully the notification gets sent

MASTERLIST

[mdsbabygirl]

“I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN AND I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME”

HANMA SHUJI X F!READER

Synopsis: you didn't think that rejecting your biggest fan Hanma Shuji could spiral into him kidnapping you and making you his.

Wc: 4k

Cw: reader is a famous influencer, vulgar language, heavy smut, dark contents: kidnapping, drug use, violence, mentions of stalking, degradation, Hanma is a psycho yandere, uses of pet names (doll/ sweetheart/doll face), hard sex, spanking, clit play, nipple play, fingering, missionary, doggy, creampie, etc...

Note: this is my first time writing smut after a long hiatus so feel free to give advice!

"Wake up .. wake up doll face!" You faintly heard a man's voice say, as you struggled to open your eyes. Your body felt extremely heavy and tired, to the point that even breathing was way too exhausting.

You felt a few nudges on your shoulder that managed to stir you awake from your drugged state, finally getting the strength to open your eyes and blink a few times to adjust your vision to the lighting. "Took you long enough to wake up, pretty doll!" You heard the same voice say, chuckling.

You turned your head to look at the source of the sound and you finally saw him..Your kidnapper.. A tall, muscular man with raven-black hair adorned with blonde streaks,  amber-flecked eyes that seemed to penetrate your very soul, chiseled hands, covered in black ink tattoos, sat on a chair beside you..   

You attempt to move but find yourself incapacitated, wrists chained to the bed. Disoriented and confused, you mumblingly ask, "Where am I?" Hearing an unnerving metallic click, you look down to find your wrists bound.

you start to get anxious, nervously pulling your arm, trying to free yourself from the restraints your kidnapper had put on you... Hanma chuckled, finding your reaction rather silly and cute.

His hand reached to grab your wrist, stopping your movements, "ah ah! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing that!" He cooed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your wrist, as if trying to soothe the pain.

you scowled looking at this deranged man pretending to care for you after kidnapping you.. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" You shouted, desperately trying to put some distance between the both of you, but to no avail..

he giggled, shaking his head, as his hand grabbed a strand of your silky hair and swirled it around his slender finger. "When will you learn that you can't get away from me, hm? Why did you have to make me go to such lengths to make you understand it?" He asked , leaning his head forward  making you face the other way.

He clicked his tongue,  grabbing your chin w his punishment tattooed hand, forcefully making you look at him.. "doll face.. why won't you just accept it? You're mine..you've always been mine, and you always will!" He added, a sly grin appearing on his face, as he caressed your soft cheek. "YOU'RE A SICK MAN! WHO TF EVEN ARE YOU TO SAY SUCH THINGS TO ME?" You yelled at him, tears welling up in your eyes, as the overwhelming emotions of fear and rage collided within you.

Hanma's eyebrows shot up, feeling a bit startled from your reaction. Did his doll face really forget him that easily? Was his love not enough for you to remember him?

"You hurt me sweetheart! You really do!" He said, his psycho smile replaced by a small pout, as his grip on your face tightened, "how could you forget me so easily?!" He asked in disbelief,"thinking I've done so much for you! supported you when no one had, sent you gifts, gave you the attention you deserved, even confessed my love for you!" He nervously listed, recounting his numerous attempts of showing you his twisted affection, amid sadness, denial and a tinge of anger.

Horror washes over you as your mind is racing, finally connecting the dots.. your kidnapper.. he.. he was your stalker!! Past memories came rushing through your brain, images of him sitting at the back of all your social events, the numerous spam likes and comments left on all your posts, the myriad of calls and dms he'd send, all those suspicious love letters and expensive gifts at your doorstep, and yesterday's sick love confession at your latest event, made you recognize your capturer's true identity.

That twisted grin of his made its way back to his features, a sinful glint in his eyes, "I see you finally remember me now doll face!" He spoke, his voice tinged with deranged delight as he took a strand of your soft hair and swirled it around his slender finger. "You look so gorgeous, doll" he cooed, tilting his head as he admired your helpless state, his eyes brimming with wicked affection. He leaned down to press a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, a strangely gentle gesture that clashed with his twisted actions.

He leaned back in his chair and opened the nightstand drawer, pulling out a pack of your favorite snacks. He opened it and took a piece out, chuckling as he recalled overhearing you mention them to a friend when he'd been following you around.

"you know, I gotta admit you really have good taste doll! This snack is very delicious!" He said cheerfully, biting it before he brought the rest to your mouth, and asked w a smile on his face "you hungry?" You looked at him in shock, how could he act so calmly as if he didn't just deprive you of your freedom, treating you with such kindness that betrayed his twisted actions?

You glared at Hanma with pure hate and disgust, wondering how a person can be so sick to their core. "I'm not hungry!" You retort, your voice laced with rage as you look down at the mattress... "Are you sure?" He asks again, pressing the piece of food to your lips "you might need some energy for later!" He said, his voice tinged with sin as his eyes twinkled in lust..

your mind raced with the possible implications of his words, anxiety and fear washing over you, making your body quiver "I said I don't want any!" You reply sternly, looking away from him.

Hanma sighed, putting down the pack of snacks, before he pulled out a small vial from his pocket and twisted the cap off. "IG we'll start right away then!" He spoke, an emotionless expression plastered on his face as he harshly grabbed your face, forcing your mouth open, and pouring in that clear liquid before he quickly muffled your mouth and nose, forcing you to swallow the potent aphrodisiac.

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, as you felt the drug go down your throat and into your system, fogging your mind and making you more vulnerable than you already were. "What.. what did you give me?" You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to move and think straight. "Hmm? Oh it's just something to make you feel good!" He replied, his voice tinged with greed as his tatted hands grabbed your breasts, groping them, making you gasp loudly.

"It shouldn't take long before the effects start showing up!" He added, a sly grin appearing on his face.

His head quickly found its way to the crook of your neck, biting the soft flesh so that it left a purplish mark. He chuckled lowly, "you belong to me now! I can finally do you as I please" he spoke in a sultry tone, his breath feeling hot against your feverish skin.

You tried to push him away but the drug had already weakened your body, reducing you to putty in his hands.. your intoxicated state made you enjoy his teasing , betraying your want for escape.

He laughed at you, mocking your miserable attempts of getting away from him, "you're so pathetic, sweetheart! Just accept it!" He spoke teasingly,  as he lifted his head to meet yours, his lips ghosting over yours, "just admit that you crave me as much as I crave you!" He added, this time w a huskier tone, before your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

The touch of your mouths sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal washing over you. Hanma's lips were soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. His tongue seeked entrance in your hot mouth, brushing over your lower lip, making you gasp softly and slightly pull away.

His hand swiftly grabbed the nape of your neck, tangling into your hair and keeping you in place. "Don't try to fight it y/n.. just kiss me!" He whispered lowly, his seductive voice sending a jolt of tingles to your core that made the wet spot on your panties get bigger and bigger. Your drugged body obeyed to his lustful requests, opening your mouth for him, eagerly welcoming his tongue in, to which he grinned proudly.

Your tongues met, dancing a slow, sensual tango. Hanma's other hand cradled your face, pulling you closer, as your kiss deepened, feeling the intensity building between you, the raw, primal need that drove you both.

His kisses trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a delicate, erotic way. You let out soft moans, your body trembling under his touch. The line between captor and captive blurred, as the intensity of your connection grew.

He planted kisses on your soft skin, leaving behind love bites and hickeys in a mixture of red and purple marks. Each time he applied too much pressure with a bite or suck, he always soothed the pain by licking and gently kissing the spot. After all, he didn't want to cause his precious doll any real pain - he loved you too dearly.

Hanma lifted his gaze, his cock throbbing from the sight of your flushed state, panting heavily.So He  took this as a sign to proceed with his twisted plans. His tatted hands quickly made their way to your body, pulling down the straps of your dress and exposing your chest to his lust filled eyes..

Your cheeks blushed even more as you felt his large hands knead your breasts, your nipples already perked up from the drug. "Damn doll face! Your nipples hardened already?" He mocked you, his chuckles echoing through the room.

You felt humiliated, not only were you at the mercy of your psycho stalker, but that damn aphrodisiac was making his twisted actions feel incredibly pleasurable..

you panted, as his long fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching and squeezing them as he pleased.. "oh come on sweetheart, can't you give ne some better reactions?" He inquired, taking your left nipple between his thumb and index finger, twisting it hard just to get a reaction outta you.. that surely made you moan loudly, which made him laugh.. "that's what I wanna hear doll face!" He said as he kept groping your tits, his dick getting harder and harder by each passing second.

your moans were filling the room, and your body was growing hotter w each passing second, your panties soaking up further.

Every suckle, every flick of his tongue on your hard nub, every twist of his long fingers, sent a jolt of pleasure cursing through you, making you arch your back into his mouth, to which he grinned in satisfaction. He finally got you.

You instinctively started grinding your hips on the mattress, desperately looking for some friction to ease the tension you were feeling between your pretty legs.

Hanma quickly caught up to your actions, stopping his ministrations before he grabbed your hip, tightly squeezing the flesh to make you stop your movements "what are you doing?" He asked in a stern way, almost as if he was mad you were so needy for him.

"I.. I..nothing!" You managed to mumble, your mind way too fogged from the potent drug to even form a coherent sentence, the only thought in your lust filled mind was getting off to him.. quick.

"Nothing? Looked like you were being a needy little slut grinding like that on my bed" He replied in a low degrading tone.

Your breath hitched as you felt a sharp sting on your skin and a slapping sound echoed through the walls... Did he just spank you? You were too high to even comprehend what wicked things he was doing to you, but that sharp pain surely did feel pleasurable.

A high pitched moan left your plush lips, as you felt another spank on your hip, making your body jolt. Hanma quickly grabbed you by the face again looking at your hazed state. He chuckled lowly as he admired all his hard work, adoring the girl he so much longer for.

Your teary eyes met his greedy ones, needy gaze falling on his grinning face, mentally begging him to fuck you already, to completely ravish you  until there was nothing left... His sick smile widened further, as his pants became impossibly tighter, his dick aching for some kind of attention.

"Hanma.. please fuck me! Please fuck me already I can't take it anymore!" You whine, eagerly taking his hand and putting it between your legs, making him feel the pool of wetness dripping out of your needy pussy.. 

Your action took him a bit by surprise, although he wasn't the least bit bothered, he was actually very pleased. "Aww, my little dolly whore wants my attention hmm?" He cooed, the fingers of his sin tatted hand lightly grazing your clothed cunt, teasing you on purpose, just for the fun of seeing you buckle your hips into his touch.

"Please Hanma.. I need you! Please!" You cry out, begging for him to take you then and there, to ruin you like the good little slut you are. He chuckled, who thought those damn aphrodisiacs were so useful? He thought to himself before he ripped the nightgown from your body, leaving you almost bare In front of him, if it wasn't for your soaked panties that he quickly ripped off  too. "Now we're Talking!" He said in a sultry voice, as he admired your naked body before him, so beautiful, so gorgeous, all for him to enjoy..

he always had this reaction when he saw you naked, it's almost as if it was his first time—which obviously wasn't he saw you naked before many times but you never knew you had hidden cameras in your house— seeing you so vulnerable like this, made his cock throb in anticipation and his mind flood with the images of him pumping his hard dick in and out of you until you couldn't think walk anymore.

He pushed you onto the bed, falling on your back, as you looked at his undressing form, the sight of his toned chest and abs sending tingles of excitement to your throbbing clit.. you breathed shakily, reaching out to touch his chest but unable to do so from the chains that restrained you..

Hanma laughed at your actions, finding them cute, "look at you! You're so far gone you're willing to touch your kidnapper! Such a horny slut I got here!" He spoke mockingly, leaning in to press his lips onto yours, capturing them in a fiery kiss, full of lust. Your mouth greedily welcomed his tongue in, your wet muscle swirling around his and engaging in a sinful dance that sent shivers down both of your spines.

He pulled away looking at you intensely "if I take that chain off of your hand, do you promise me you'll be a good girl and obey everything I say?" He whispered lowly, his gaze so intense he could burn holes into your skull..

You eagerly nodded, feeling excited about the idea of being freed—partially— from his restraints.

He smirked, quickly opening the locks on your chains and letting your hand fall beside you. Before you could even think about moving it, you felt both of your wrists get held over your head, restricting your movements once again. You gasp at the sudden action, looking at a grinning Hanma who simply said "well... At least my hands won't hurt as much as the chains!" Before he leaned in close, his lips meeting yours in a forceful kiss, stealing your breath, and asserting his control.

The taste of your lips, slick with saliva, only fueled his desire. Hanma's free hand traveled down your body, his fingertips finding your moist, quivering entrance. Gently, but assertively, he began to stroke you, your moans muffled by his own mouth.

As his fingers danced against your throbbing clit, your hips instinctively bucked, craving more. Hanma broke the kiss for a moment, whispering in your ear, "You're going to enjoy every second of this, no matter how it started."

He kissed your neck, biting down softly, sending shivers down your spine. The kidnapper continued to tease you, his thumb flicking back and forth against your swollen clit. You squirmed under his touch, yearning for more.

He slid one finger inside you, curling it, before adding another. The stretch of his long fingers making you gasp loudly,  arching your back , and fluttering your eyelids shut as you felt pleasure curse through your body, sending sparks of pure Bliss through your nerves. He began to finger you in earnest, his touch firm and precise.

As your orgasm neared, Hanma suddenly removed his fingers, leaving you wanting and confused. His voice, a smug whisper in your ear, told you, "No, darling, you won't cum on my fingers. You'll cum on my dick."

He quickly repositioned himself, his erect cock sliding into your slick, waiting entrance. The sudden intrusion caused you to gasp, but it wasn't in discomfort. Hanma began to move, his powerful thrusts matching the intensity of your desires.

As he rammed into you, your moans grew louder, a crescendo of your arousal. You could feel the edge of your climax, and with each thrust, Hanma's cock brushed against that gummy spot inside you, teasing you even further.

In a frenzy, he grabbed you by the jaw, and your lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached the precipice of an earth-shattering orgasm. Just as it crested, Hanma held you even tighter, forcing you to endure the pleasure without release.

"Not yet," he growled into your ear. "I'll let you cum when I'm ready.."

Your kidnapper continued to ravage you, his need for control in every movement, every thrust. Your body quivered, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to burst, as Hanma held you on the edge, denying your release.

It was too much, way too much! The pleasure was way too intense you couldn't stop yourself from cumming, your arousal juices oozing out of your abused hole, squeezing around his throbbing length making him reach his climax too, involuntarily forcing him to join you in your twisted pleasure, and to spill his thick semen inside you, pumping you full of his cum—just like he imagined — even tho he explicitly told you not to do so, yet..

You felt his thrusts become faster than before, his moans louder and filthier echoing through the walls of the room, "unghh.. ahhh shit, fuck! Fuck you, you little slut! I told you not to fucking make me cum didn't I?" He shouted at you in between moans, his fucked out state preventing him from fully focusing on you—which is considered good luck— and scold you further.

His pace became even harsher than before, his thrusts hitting so deep inside you you think he could bruise your cervix. He didn't care if he was overstimulating himself, he didn't want this to end, he wanted.. no he needed to keep going..

You felt a painful spank on your butt, followed by a harsh thrust that made you scream so loud, then another spank followed by yet another hard thrust of his, "you filthy little slut, how dare you disobey me?" Thrust. "Answer me!" Thrust. "Who gave you permission to cum?" Spank.

You cried out, feeling so overwhelmed by the intense feelings you were experiencing, taunting pleasure mixed with blissful pain.. a powerful combo that made your body shake uncontrollably, and scream so erotically loud, even the sluttiest pornstars would be jealous of you..

"No one" he growled, "no one gave you permission to be a lil bitch and cum unannounced on my dick!" He spat out, "I'm gonna have to punish you!" He said huskily before he pulled out, and flipped your weak body, so that your perky butt was on full display for him. "Now doll face, I'm gonna teach you what being a little slut does to pretty girls like you ok?" He spoke in a stern tone, his punishment tattooed hand harshly slapping your already reddened skin..

you whined, your body jolting from the intensity of his slap.. it hurt.. it hurt so much but it felt so goddamn good in that blissful state of yours. His large palm made contact once more with your freshly bruised skin, the slapping sound echoing through the walls.

You tried getting away from his harsh touch, gathering all the strength left in your weak quivering body, to crawl away from Hanma, but he was quicker than you, stronger than you. He forcefully grabbed you by the hips, and shoved his cock back inside your slippery hole, the sudden fullness making you scream, gasping for air.

"That's what happens when.. unghh.. pretty dolls don't obey their masters" he muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to moan as loud as you,  the endless squeezes of your overstimulated cunt feeling so heavenly on his throbbing cock.

His rhythm was harsh; deep thrusts hitting all the way up your cervix, his hard length rearranging your insides as it pleases. His tatted hands were tightly gripping the flesh of your hips, bruising it with how much he was squeezing.

He still didn't recover from the earth shattering orgasm he just had, which made him more sensitive than he wanted to be. Hanma wanted this sinful  moment to last forever, he needed to have you under him, moaning like a slut as you got your pussy pounded by him. That's the only thing he'd need.. he craved you for so long and thinking he finally got you like this felt like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

Hanma pounded into you with animalistic fury. Your bodies collided in a ferocious, primal dance, as your ass bounced with each of his thrusts, already raw and bruised from the countless spanks.

His tatted hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving dark imprints as he ravaged you. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his grunts grew louder and more frenzied.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. With a deep, guttural groan, he unleashed his hot, thick cum inside you, filling her completely. His seed spilled into you, an endless fountain of his desire, as his cock pulsed with each powerful thrust.

Hanma continued to ravage you, his relentless pace forcing you to the very edge of  endurance. When he finally collapsed against you, panting heavily, your body shook with spent, trembling pleasure.

Slowly, he pulled out, gathering the sticky remnants of his lustful passion with his long, slender fingers. He then presented his prize to you, smearing the cum across your lips. In a possessive whisper, he said, "I'm gonna have so much fun with you, my little cumslut!"

With that, he pulled you to your feet, your legs wobbly and unsteady. He guided you to a nearby chair and, with a wicked grin, said, "Now, you can clean up your mess, doll face" watching you with a predatory glee as he imagined how he'd push his throbbing length up your tight throat.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

©2024ᴍᴅꜱʙᴀʙʏɢɪʀʟ, ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

[cutielando]

we can’t be friends, part 2 | l.n.

synopsis: in which Lando is conflicted

part 1

my masterlist

Lando had never before considered himself a “lucky” man. He was always of the belief that things just kind of…happened.

But when he saw you in the paddock on that one particular day, after months of being away from you and only watching you from afar, he thanked his lucky stars.

That was part of the reason why he couldn’t resist coming up to you, introducing himself with only one thought in mind: I need to get her back.

You hadn’t known why the feeling of his hand in yours felt familiar when you shook his hand, why the tone of his voice made tingles arise on your delicate skin, or why his smile and dimple seemed like something you had seen before, seemingly in another life.

Something in your gut was telling you that you had met him sometime before, but you just couldn’t figure out where you knew him from.

Which Lando was grateful for.

He had realized he hadn’t been a good boyfriend to you before, he could see his mistakes and what he should improve now. He knew what he had to do.

After the fateful meeting in the paddock, you started bumping into him more and more. 

At the grocery store in Monaco, at the museum where you were strolling with your sister, at the hair salon, at the nail salon, he seemed to be everywhere.

You didn’t think anything about it at first, telling yourself that Monaco was a very small place and coincidences were bound to happen.

But you gradually began to feel like it was not the case, and you settled for confronting him to get to the bottom of the problem.

“You’re following me” you had caught him yet again, seemingly trailing around the flower shop where you usually spend your mornings.

Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing before he settled for shaking his head.

“Bumping into me once or twice is a normal coincidence, but you’re everywhere I go. I turn around and you’re there, like a ghost. Can you please tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to creep me out” you said, making sure to keep your distance from him.

Lando’s heart began hammering in his chest, panic quickly settling in his body.

This was not how it was supposed to go down. You were meant to find it cute, endearing even, but he couldn’t have you thinking that he was a weirdo, not when he was desperately trying to make you fall in love with him once again.

How was he supposed to win you back if you thought he was a total creep?

“I’m not trying to be creepy, I promise. I just didn’t know how to approach you without being awkward” he tried to explain, realizing he sounded even more like a creep.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And you figured following me around was the solution?” you had to admit that seeing him flustered and trying to explain himself was becoming funny to you, any trace of annoyance long gone.

You couldn’t describe the feelings you had whenever you were around Lando. There was a foreign sense of familiarity every time you would talk to him and whenever you would be near him. Like your body was already used to being around him.

“No, no. God, this is so not how I wanted this to go down” he murmured the last part to himself, but you heard him nonetheless.

“Look, as much as I might find this stalking of yours kinda cute in some twisted way, what’s really going on here?” you asked, crossing your arms one on top of the other.

He sighed, hanging his head low. Should he just be honest about why he was following you? Tell you about everything you had done so much just to forget? Should he just lie and truly start from scratch? 

There were so many questions clouding his judgment, dozens of ideas and excuses floating around in his brain.

But in the end, he decided that wiping the slate clean was his best bet. You would never agree to go out with him if he even mentioned how your previous relationship had ended, that he had hurt you so much that you chose to completely forget everything about him and your relationship.

He didn’t want to risk a new beginning by plaguing it with events from the past.

“Okay. Truth is, I really like you, and I wanted to ask you out but couldn’t seem to find the words to do it. You’re gorgeous and kind and nice and I didn’t think you would want to go out with me, given what the internet has been saying about me” he confessed, scratching the back of his head in fear of what your reaction would be.

Once upon a time, he could read you like the back of his hand, knowing your every little tic and every tell. He knew every single thing there was to know about you, but as you stood there in front of him, he felt like he didn’t know you.

Even while you smiled at him with that same smile he had come to love over time, you were not the person he had left behind. You were someone else entirely, only the memory of you hiding behind your eyes. But was it wrong that it intrigued him? That it made him want to get to know you again so badly?

Maybe. But he didn’t want to resist it any longer.

Finally looking up at your eyes, his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the smile he loved vibrantly shining on your face, a sense of familiarity filling his chest.

“I don’t care what the internet says about you, I want to get to know the real you. People can have their opinions of you, I want to have my own” you said, stepping closer to him.

Lando felt like he couldn’t breathe. Having you so close to him after so much time apart made him want to lose his composure and just kiss the life out of you, but he couldn’t.

No, he wanted to do it right. He couldn’t afford to mess it up again. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t misinterpret anything.

“I’m saying that you should give me your number” you said, trying to suppress the smile that was inching towards your lips.

You didn’t know why you were acting like this. Accepting to go on a date with a guy that basically followed you around, asking him for his number? You were never that irresponsible when it came to dating, so why was he so different right now?

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something deep within you which was screaming at you to trust him. There was that sense of comfort that you felt whenever you were around him ever since the two of you bumped into each other, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. How could you feel so at ease with someone you had just met?

It was weird, definitely worrisome if you were being truthful with yourself. But then again, what harm could it do?

Lando had never taken out his phone as fast as he did in that moment, almost dropping it in the process, which made you laugh a little.

Seeing him so flustered made him blush, almost embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his act together. 

He gave you the phone in the end, and you put in your number and the name y/n💕, giving him the phone back and leaving, kissing his cheek as you passed by him.

Lando felt like he was dreaming as he felt your lips touch his skin, however briefly the contact had been. And unbeknownst to you, you were biting your lip and blushing as you walked away from him, eagerly waiting to get a text from him. 

And thankfully, it was merely an hour later when your phone dinged, and the butterflies started acting up once again.

♡♡♡♡♡

The moment of your first date with Lando had arrived after texting back and forth for a couple of days, and it was safe to say that the both of you were freaking out. 

You, on one hand, were freaking out because it felt like you hadn’t been this excited about going on a date in forever. Lando, on the other hand, was freaking out over wanting to make sure he didn’t screw things up the second time around. 

The nerves that he felt as he waited in front of your apartment building were nothing like he ever felt before. He hadn’t even been this nervous when you two went out the first time all those years back. But as he stood there, flowers in hand and yet another gift in his pocket, he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

That was until you finally appeared, dressed in his favorite dress of yours, sandals and curly hair, smiling from ear to ear when you saw him waiting for you.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t decide what to wear. Have you been waiting long?

Lando’s brain froze for a split second. Had he been waiting there so long that he didn’t even notice you had been late? Taking a quick peek at the watch resting on his left wrist, he realized he had been standing in front of your building for more than 20 minutes.

“Um, no. Just got here like 5 minutes ago” he lied, content when he saw the relieved smile you gave him. “These are for you” he said, holding out the flowers towards you. 

You took the bouquet from him, blushing once you noticed that he had bought you your favorite flowers.

“How did you know these are my favorites?” you asked, bringing the flowers up to your nose and inhaling the sweet aroma.

He shrugged, and left it at that. He couldn’t really tell you how he knew they were your favorite, so he figured he shouldn’t say anything else.

The night went by beautifully, the conversation flowing as if you had known each other your whole lives. The laughter you shared was natural, you felt so at ease while talking to him.

As the end of the night grew closer, you were walking hand-in-hand through the quiet streets of Monaco, a comfortable silence between the two of you. You had never felt at ease with anyone else in your entire life, yet here you were, feeling more at home with Lando than any other person in your life besides your family.

“Thank you for tonight” you said, smiling sadly once you arrived in front of your building. 

Lando smiled, stepping closer to you.

“It was my pleasure” he whispered, the distance between the two of you almost non-existent.

He looked you in the eyes as if he was asking for permission, and the second you nodded he leaned in and kissed you with everything that he had, making your knees go weak and almost buckle.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and started playing with the hair at the back of his head, almost accidentally letting out a moan at how good his lips felt on yours. Every inch of your body was on fire, your senses tingling as you got lost in the feeling of Lando.

Lando, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions. Even though he had been waiting for this moment for so many months, he felt guilty. There he was, using the fact that you had no memory of your past relationship to win you back. Was he being selfish?

Should he tell you the truth about the past?

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