#Loop's Art Pile

[loop-da-loop]

Henry doodles, cause I'm trying to learn how to draw the funny talking trains.

[four-pointed-leaf]

most predictable man alive saw the funny star-head with enough issues to fill the dsm5 and was like oh yeah. here we go

[dizzybizz]

an edyn design but i will most definitely futz with the outfit when i have brainjuice for it gill with pretzel babywrap inspired by my brother who listened to maybe half of ep1 and got it in his head that pretzel was tied to his stomach, not on his hip and i screamed when he told me no thoughts head empty sketch of gill pose

[canonkiller]

I can't draw right now to put this into Enjoyable Comic Form but please remember that you have choice. even if you are depressed or otherwise neurodivergent or disabled or Stuck there are always things you can do to improve your situation. even if they are small things like tidying up your immediate area or silly things like listening to a new radio station or scary things like trying to get help, you can do them. it might suck and it might hurt and it might be difficult but you can do it and it's worth doing. If nothing else just go sit or stand somewhere unusual to remember you have free will. Love yourself

[hugduckhesgay]

[pixxyofice]

They've been chatting about something a lot, this loop...

are they onto you...?

[astronite13]

II HIYORI

[sundrykitsch]

you can never say we're tasteless!

[sleeperagentclone]

I am too socially inept to deal with all the weird people my dad has collected over the years

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 69

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(Author Notes)

Panel 1: Laudna and Imogen are sleeping, side by side.

Panel 2: We see their shared dream. Matilda, now around 20, is lying with her cheek resting against someone's buttoned waistcoat. There's a wound on her head and streams of blood running down either side of her neck.

Matilda: . . . Mama . . .

Panel 3: Farther angle. She struggles to consciousness to find herself on a cart half-buried in a pile of other bodies, lifeless and bloodied. 

Panel 4. Underneath a giant dead tree. From below she can see the limp form of a red-haired girl in green being hoisted up by a noose around her neck. A headdress of antlers has been cruelly affixed to her head by nails.

Panel 5: Then it's her turn. The gloved hand of a woman we don't see clearly takes her tearstained face gently and turns it up towards her. Matilda looks up at her pleadingly.

Lady Briarwood: Wait.

Matilda: please Lady Briarwood please help me please tell them please

Panel 6: But she only adjusts the blue feather in her hair so it's tucked more firmly behind her ear, which has been roughly shorn into a pointed shape like an elf's.

Panel 7: The end of a rope is cast up over a black bare branch of the tree, silhouetted against the red moon.

Matilda: Wait . . . stop . . .  no no stop . . . no . . . I'm alive . . . 

Panel 8: Her head falls back, casting her gaze up into the canopy of branches, and she can do nothing more but weep soundlessly as the rope is looped around her neck. 

Matilda: I'm alive I'm alive I'm ali--

[loop-da-loop]

Some Thomas expression doodles + one uncomfortable looking James.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 29 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You dare not put it down on the big tablet on your easel where John will see, but you can’t stop yourself from drawing it out in your smaller sketchbook-journal that is easier to squirrel away under clutter, putting down marks like you mean to exorcise her from your memory. You draw her like a ghost in her field of happy white flowers, and write in the margins in your looping script, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make him forgive you. You want me to save him but I don’t know how. I don’t fucking know how.

Maybe she’ll actually hear your plea and do something useful about it, like haunt John’s dreams instead of yours.

Maybe you’re losing your damn mind. 

You find that either way, you’re not brave enough to mention her to your captor again.

She becomes an obsession, and you keep drawing her in your little sketchbook. You’ve only ever seen one picture of her. It was in the den, but has since disappeared. Still, you feel you know the lines of her face, the brightness of her eyes. You go back to your old fixation with the ladies of Mucha, sketching her out as the Lady of the Daisies with flowing auburn hair surrounded by her stylized flowers and flowing lines.

You strive to cover your true fixation by putting down anything as quickly as you can on the easel, knowing your captor will be by for inspection. You draw sunflowers, your favorite summer bloom, something fun but you can do with your eyes closed with colorful, juicy strokes of oil pastels. You hope to keep John off the scent of the book that holds your heartfelt neuroses that you bury under piles of all your new art supplies and anything else you can find.

It was stupid, of course, to think you could really hide anything from him.

One day you find him in the chair with his legs crossed, perusing your sketch journal with one of those magnificent thunderheads of a frown.

You are certain you are fucked, when he asks, “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Trembling as you imagine what he’s going to do to you for this infraction, you answer truthfully, “No.”

He closes the book with a snap, crossing the floor to stand before you, his powerful body moving deceptively slow, the way a tiger appears slothful in the jungle.

You know he can snap you up with one bite.

You cannot stop shaking, as he peers down that straight nose at you, pinning you with black eyes that somehow burn. He does not touch you, but God. He sees everything. You just know that he sees everything, and you find you are terrified of how he’ll react.  

“Have you been snooping through my things?”

“No.” The irony of him holding your sketch diary is not lost on you, but wisely you hold your tongue.

“How did you know what she looked like?”

“You had a picture out of her, ages ago.” At least, it felt like a like a lifetime ago.

“How did you know about the daisies?”

Now you know he’s going to flip his shit. It sounds fucking absurd, even to you. Your voice can barely rasp past what feels like dried twigs in your throat to whisper, “I saw them in a dream.”

You expect him to scoff and call you a liar. But he just searches your face, his eyes a little too wild for your liking. Here we go. He’d been damn near stable the past few days, but surely this will set him off.

You close your eyes, unable to watch the unfolding of your doom. This is it. He’s going to lock you up forever. You’ll never see the light of day again. The trembling in your frame kicks up to ten, and you hug yourself just to have something to hold on to.

When his next question comes, he could push you over with a feather.

“What does she say?”

You shake your head, realizing your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Nothing. She just…offers me the flower.” Going for broke you add, “She looks so sad.”

It is the sound of tearing paper that opens your eyes; with horror you find John making confetti of your art nouveau sketch that took hours to do. However, any protest dies on your lips—if destroying the drawing appeases him, maybe he won’t take it out on you.

Without another word, just a hard look, he stalks from the room.

Only when the sound of his footsteps fade down the hall do you let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, your knees quivering like leaves in a storm.

However, you are not foolish enough to believe you’re in the clear just yet.

-Later, there is no dinner. You find the kitchen cold and empty. Not sure what to make of this, you graze in the fridge, before returning to your bedroom. Not sure where John has gotten off to, you shower, then go to bed, finding yourself lying awake in the dark without him beside you, almost itchy without his steady presence in the evening at your side.

Part of it might be that you fear something is brewing, and you can’t stand the waiting…but part of it might simply be that you miss him, as fucked up as that is.

In the end, against your better judgement, you go looking.

You search the house, until the only room that is left is the garage. Silently you open the door, slipping through without a sound. You too are learning how to move quiet as a wraith. The smell of rubber and oil assaults your nostrils. Classic rock is playing low on the radio. In the far bay, the hood of the Mustang is open, and John is bent over inside, wrenching on something and muttering to himself. There is a partially empty bottle of Blanton’s Bourbon on the workbench behind him, and an empty glass.

Unable to stop yourself from committing what perhaps might prove to be suicide, you creep to the other side of the Land Rover, using it as cover as you eavesdrop on this man grumbling to the ghost of his deceased wife.  

“What do you want from me? I loved you. I loved you with every fucking fiber of my being, but you left me. I died with you the day you left me, and she is the only thing that makes me feel alive again. I need her, and she never would have come to me on her own. She never would have stayed. She never would have stayed.”

He says this to himself over and over, and it wrenches your heart, because you know it isn’t true.

You think you manage to creep back out again without him noticing, Led Zeppelin on the radio disguising the sound of the door.

When at last he comes to bed and wraps you in his arms, holding you too hard for comfort, you feign sleep, smelling the bourbon fumes on his breath. You can’t help but tense, wondering if he will forget his promise this deep in his cups.

But he just sighs into your hair, crushing you as he pulls you even closer, and you don’t know why it breaks your heart all over again.

[theendisneat]

Arranged Marriage [pt.1.3 (The In-Between)]

Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

Warnings: Mild blood, mild sexual content, injury, semi-graphic depiction of illness

“Why is it so difficult for you to dodge?” You muttered, stitching another of your husband’s wounds. “I mean, you’re a martial god, your prowess is second to none, yet you couldn’t dodge the very visible spear heading your way?”

The stab wound on Morax’s side was already beginning to heal, you could tell, but your hands needed something to do to cover their shaking. You settled for cleaning and disinfecting the wound, stitching it up and slathering it in salve before wrapping gauze tightly around his abdomen.

“The spear was not entirely visible-”

At the sight of your unimpressed stare, Morax fell silent.

You sigh, finishing the bandages. You move to stand in front of him, tenderly cupping his face, bringing his forehead to your own. “Honestly, it’s almost like you go looking for fights that present a struggle. With how little you care about your own well-being you’d better be happy that I learned the medicinal arts. Just because you’re a powerful being does not mean you should be tanking damage!”

His hands fall to your waist. You felt his clawed fingernails dig into your sides. “I will abstain from being so careless next time-”

“Next time?!”

“And I will train proficiently in dodging to avoid this scenario from repeating.” He said it with such determined assurance you couldn’t help but sigh, your eye twitching from stress.

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. I’m not even going to bother with ‘be more careful’.” You poked his nose, his eyes crossing to focus on your finger. “But you’re not going into another battle until that wound is completely healed, and you better not try to speed it up! I’ll know.”

“That is acceptable.” His hands circle your waist bringing you into a hug, his head resting on your shoulder, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

You stood between his legs, arms crossed as you refused to hug him back. “I am still mildly annoyed at your recklessness, why do you think you get cuddles?”

“Because no matter how angry they are, my spouse always relents to cuddles.” Morax muttered, almost petulantly.

“You are very lucky this situation was not worse.” You grumble but relent, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringing him closer. With his chest squished to your own, your necklace tapped between, you could feel the slow thumps of his heartbeat.

-

It’s a quiet morning. The surrounding gardens of you and your husband’s abode sway with a pleasant, cool breeze. Flowers tremble, leaves dance. The water rustles ever so slightly, the little fish swimming in slow loops, playfully chasing after each other.

A blanket is spread beneath you, soft and thick, padding your knees and you kneel behind your sitting husband. Your fingers brush through his hair, detangling it from the top of his head to where it falls to his waist. Your hand goes to the pile of little flowers by your side, carefully, you chose one and braided it into Morax’s hair.

He sat still as you continued, flower after flower, until his head looked like an avant-garde mess of petals and intricately woven braids. Thin strands of hair you couldn’t tie back fell to frame his face, softening his sharp, draconic features.

“Very pretty.” You murmur absentmindedly from behind him, and he felt something swell within his chest. A light dust of pink coated his cheeks and didn’t restrain the smile on his lips.

-

“Stay away from me!” His voice was low, a shaking, snarling, timber. His lips were pulled back over his sharpened teeth, eyes slitted and bright gold. The small horns that normally rested on his head had branched out like antlers, the tips as pointed and deadly as a dagger.

He was crouched over, his hands pressed against the ground and legs behind him in a distinctly inhuman, animalistic position. Brown scales with a gold shimmer came in patches along his bare torso, a whipping tail of similar color with a puff of gold fur at the end sprouting from just over the waistband of his pants.

Something had happened out in the field, what, you didn’t know, but it left your husband stumbling home, unable to keep his cool, practically exploding with rage as he walked through the threshold. At first you were thoroughly startled, flinching when a bang echoed throughout the house and Morax fell to the ground in your living room, writing as if in pain.

Now you stood a few feet away from him, a tight curl in your chest. “Morax, just tell me what’s wrong, let me help you.”

“Get away!” He growled. “It’s an enhancer! It aggravates all my primal instincts as a dragon.” He groaned, his forehead falling to rest against the cool floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous Morax! If your primal instincts are being enhanced, don’t you think that as your spouse you’d feel protective towards me instead of angry? The fear of hurting me and the irritation towards the situation are clouding your mind. You need to calm down.” You sit on the ground, your legs crossed, and wave your hands. “Come on.”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes gleaming unsurely, but relents and crawls over, his claws making little indents in the floors. You hold your arms out and he slots himself in your lap. His head goes over your shoulder, something you’re glad about as it keeps the antlers out of your face, his arms around your waist, and his legs hanging over your thighs.

His breath is heavy, hands shaking, and you know he’s trying to keep any lingering anger under control, trying to funnel the emotion into protectiveness, joy, anything that would keep him from harming you.

You buried one hand in his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and the other went around his waist so you could hold him close. His chest rumbled with aggravated growls and his hands were tense from trying not to dig them into your delicate flesh. “I’ve got you.” You whispered soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

“Sing… for me.” He managed to choke out, his heavy breath hitting your neck. “Your voice… it helps.”

“Morax, you know I’m not a good singer.”

“Please.” You looked down to see his head resting limply against your shoulder, nose pressed to your neck, with wide, blown out eyes. He looked miserable, uncomfortable, and almost… scared.

“Alright, alright.” You tilted your head so it was leaning on his. “My love, my love, my fearless love…”

-

The dark night sky contrasted greatly with the warmth of your bedroom. Surrounded by dark browns and golds, the warm glow of the candles bouncing off the walls. You and your husbands were wrapped in the heavy blankets of your bed, winter chilling you to the bone.

You snuggled close to Morax, constricting yourself around him like a boa as you attempted to soak up his warmth. But his body was lukewarm at best and it seemed that any warmth that existed between the two of you was being given to him.

“Why are you not warm?” You groan. “You are a dragon.”

“I am a reptile, my love. That’s not how my body works.” Your husband mumbles. His eyes drooping and hair splayed across the pillows haphazardly was a wonderful sight and yet you couldn’t enjoy it as a shiver wracked your body.

Finally, having had enough you got out of bed. Going to the kitchen, you filled several cylindrical glass bottles full of warm water and wrapped each bottle of a thick towel. Carrying them all back to bed, you swiftly yanked all the pillows off. Your husband stayed perfectly still, his breath shallow but even, as you secured the bottles around the bed and then covered them in blankets. After tucking the blankets around the bottles and Morax, you shimmied into the bed yourself, sighing contently when you could feel the warmth from the bottles near your feet begin to sink into the sheets.

Snuggling into Morax, you brought one of the many fur blankets up to his shoulder. “Better?”

“Much.” He breathed out.

With that, the both of you were able to fall into a restful sleep.

-

A flash of green and black smoke interrupted your reading. Looking up from your book, you saw a man you knew wasn’t as young as he appeared. Green hair falling in feathered cuts, golden eyes sharp and attentive, and the stance of someone ready to fight at all times.

He was at your wedding, looking particularly indifferent about the circumstances, but you had never spoken to him directly. Now he stood in front of you.

“Where is Rex Lapis?” Despite being so small and young looking, his voice was fairly raspy.

“Ask nicely.” You closed your book and set it to the side, placing your hands in your lap and looking at him expectantly.

His cheeks fluttered as he clenched his teeth and his eyes narrowed. He gave a shallow bow and spoke, his tone more agreeable. “I’m looking for Rex Lapis, have you seen him?”

You smile. “He’s not here.” Seeing the Adeptus’ eyes flash you chuckled. “But he will be soon, so sit down. I’ll get you something nice.”

Not wanting to disobey orders from his master’s spouse, he kneeled down in front of the low table, his back stiff and face blank.

You went to the kitchen and grabbed a treat you had been saving for yourself, but didn’t mind sharing. You placed it in front of the Adeptus. “Here, it’s not too sweet. Very pleasant. My mother taught me how to make it when she was still alive.”

Hesitantly, he began to eat, his face still blank. “It is good.”

“Thank you. It’s called almond tofu. You can enjoy it while we wait for my husband to get here.” You kneeled down on the opposite side of the table and once again, picked up your book. The atmosphere was quiet, yet not oppressively silent. The both of you enjoyed the quiet time together until Morax came home and looked upon the scene with confusion.

-

You cried as your coughed up blood, the thick liquid plopping into the bucket that had been placed by the bed. Your body shook, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as your breath rattled horribly in your chest. You flopped back down on the bed, arms too weak to hold you up and the fuzz around your eyes only growing.

Morax was by your side. His fingers threaded through your hair in an attempt to comfort you. He could only watch as his lover fell apart, watch as their body slowly grew thinner, as they stopped eating or moving or smiling. It pained him greatly to see the state they had been brought to because of this illness. He was only lucky that his Adeptus body was not affected by human illnesses and thus could stay by your side with no fear of contracting it himself.

You rolled over, and even though it felt like it had taken too much energy, and draped yourself over Morax. Despite being sweaty, and at risk of coughing up blood again, your husband didn’t push you away, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close for you to soak up the coolness of his body.

“Morax… Morax… the medicine, when will it be ready?” Your muttering sounded almost delirious, breathy and disconnected. A glaze settled in your eyes.

“Soon, my love. The doctor is saying that this illness is rather difficult to deal with and has to create a new medicinal formula to aid you, but he’s positive that he’ll be able to do it. You’ll be just fine soon enough.”

-

Clawed hands slid up your trembling legs, slightly digging into the plump flesh. A long, slitted tongue infiltrated your mouth, filling your head with cotton as it explored from behind your teeth to the back of your throat.

Your gasps between kisses were heady and your hands were clingy, nails sinking into the hard contours of his back, his hips grinding against yours. His touch was intoxicating, filling your mind till all you could think of was him.

Even in his neediness, he was gentle, his claws not daring to rip off clothing as he slowly peeled you bare, until you laid before him like a newly bloomed flower. Your face was red, chest heaving with gasping breaths after you had just been kissed senseless. With no time to think, hot kisses, more akin to bites, trailed down your neck, sharp canines teasing you, and you couldn’t but wish they would clamp down and give you a pretty bruise to admire later.

You couldn’t take the slowness. Hooking your knee around his waist, you used all your body weight to flip the two of you over. Now, sitting on his stomach, hands pressing down on his chest, you got a good look at how debauched your husband was. Eyes blown so wide there was only a ring of amber around the pupil. His hair was messy, knotted from your tight grip, and there was a dark blush high on his cheeks.

Your hands trailed all over his body. From his face down to his neck, chest, arms, and pelvis. He was sensitive, you realized, as he shivered pleasantly with each graze of your fingertips, head tilted back, leaving his neck free.

Unlike Morax, you had no reservations about how much your husband could take. While he was constantly worried about harming you with his draconic features, you couldn’t share the same concerns. You sucked harsh kisses to his neck and left your husband mottled with red bruises slowly darkening and little indents from your teeth. A particular bite behind his ear had him moaning, his hands clenched around your waist.

Overcome with adoration, you nibbled on his ear, whispering praises and various forms of ‘I love you’ that had him melting into a pile of goo, a lovestruck smile on his face.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your naga professor gives you a gift

General Plot: This is a longer, sloppy oneshot. You work at a library, frequented by a professor who studies amorous history and strike up a friendship with him.

Naga professor (Arion) x female reader

Word Count: 4k

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: Yandere behavior, obsession, kidnapping, mostly sfw yandere fluff, there is a brief mention of cum, ambiguous ending

You never noticed the way he looked at you. The way his gaze lingered on you while you pranced around him pushing your little cart of books. 

“Need help finding something?” you asked him, holding a pile of books in your arms. You were a librarian in a college for the magical arts, already graduated yourself. You’d been offered the job right out of school after you interned there so you took it and never left.

It was a great atmosphere and the college community was kind of nice. Bright, young students were funny and ever hopeful, getting into all sorts of hijinks with their magic. The week before a student had glued himself to the ceiling of the gymnasium with a spell gone wrong.

As a hedgewitch, you didn’t have much magical power yourself. Your witch blood hadn’t allowed you any boons but your short stature and wide eyes. You could do hearth magic and bloom flowers, but that was about it. Your mother always told you if you applied yourself you could be a brilliant chemist, but it wasn’t something that interested you. The library was quiet and peaceful. Just right. 

You recognized the professor. He was a handsome naga who taught in the history department. He came to the library often, staying late into the evenings. He always sat in the same corner, his thick green tail curled over itself in fat loops as he read, scribbling notes with long, strong fingers. He was quiet and you hadn’t spoken to him much, except a few pleasantries in passing. That day, however, you caught him perusing a shelf. He seemed to be searching for something. 

He turned to you, jumping a bit. 

“Sorry to startle you,” you chuckled, putting out your hand and brushing his shoulder. 

You didn’t know why you did that. Maybe it was because he was handsome and flustered you a little. He had beautiful hazel eyes behind his metal framed glasses and long dark hair, streaked with a bit of silver, showing his age. He had it braided over his ears in the traditional naga way, the rest falling down his back in a smooth sheet. You jerked your hand back immediately. That probably wasn’t appropriate. Your cheeks pinkened, hoping you hadn’t offended him. 

His eyes widened slightly at your hand, but he gathered himself a moment later.

“Erm…yes,” he said, “there’s a book in the database that doesn’t seem to be on the shelf. Heart Magic of the Meridian Era. It says it's here and I can’t find it.” 

“Let me look into it for you,” you said. 

He slithered behind you to the counter and you pulled up the title on your computer. You didn't know that while he followed you, he admired your plump bottom and the cute little legs you tipped around on perilously.

“Oh I see,” you explained, “that book is part of the special collection. You can’t remove it from the library, but I can help you make copies of any pages and give you a private room to review it.” 

“That would be perfect,” he agreed, smiling at you. 

His smile was handsome, his fangs very long and sharp. 

“Everything okay here?” your manager Levi asked, sidling up to you. 

He peeked over your shoulder. 

“That book is in the special collection. Have you set him up with a private room?” he asked. 

“Of course,” you said tightly. 

He wasn’t a terrible manager, but he could hover a bit sometimes and occasionally it annoyed you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he gave it a little squeeze. 

“Great job, (Y/N),” he said, “come find me if you need any help.” 

He wandered away to engage in his favorite professional technique, managing by walking around.

You glanced up to see the professor’s eyes narrowed watching him walk away. 

“Shall we go?” you asked, jotting down the book’s identification number on a post it. 

He seemed to relax a bit and nodded at you to lead him on. 

“I’m (Y/N), by the way,” you said, making conversation as you led him down the stone steps that went down a few floors to the basement where the special books were kept. They were books with dangerous magic that only professors and supervised graduate students could look at. 

“I’ve seen you around the library, but we’ve never been introduced.” 

He gave you a bit of a shy smile. 

“Arion Dernald,” he said with a tip of his head. 

“Wait here,” you told him, as you unlocked the door where the books were kept and went inside to retrieve the right one. When you’d found it, you brought it out with a pair of white gloves and led him to a private room. 

You looked at the heavily engraved book, covered with reliefs of passionate lovers entwined in each other’s arms. 

“Oh my,” you gasped, “what are you studying?” 

He looked even more bashful and cleared his throat.

“Ah…Ancient romance spells,” he said, “I’m writing a book about how romance was seen differently in the Meridian era than it is now.” 

“Oh?” you asked, as you laid the book down on some cotton cloth to protect the cover, “how so?” 

“It was more…intimate, perhaps,” he said, “lovers owned each other’s hearts. They used many varieties of magical bindings to grow closer.” 

“That’s what’s in this book?” you asked, looking down at it. 

“Yes,” he said, “mostly…and some aphrodisiac spells.” 

You weren’t sure why, but the contents of the book made you squirmy. Any kind of binding spell was illegal in the modern day. You gave him a hesitant smile.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” you said, “please use the gloves so you don’t damage the pages. The oils on your fingers break down the fibers.” 

You handed him a matching pair of white gloves and hustled out of the room. 

Glancing up a few hours later, you saw him carrying the book to you, a few pages marked with scraps of paper. 

“Could you make copies of these pages?” he asked, “then I’ll be done with it for today.” 

You agreed, taking the tomb from him and heading back to the copy machine. Flipping open the pages you glanced at the first spell, reading a few lines. It was a proximity binding spell, not allowing the person to leave a certain area around them. The next one gave you pause. It was almost like the proximity spell, but much more serious. It bound two souls together in this life and the next. The two parties couldn’t be too far apart from each other for too long or they would start to waste away and eventually die. 

The spell guaranteed that your souls would find each other in your next reincarnations. The idea was that lovers would rather die and be reunited in the next life than be parted. Who knew if it really worked. Ancient magic like this was spotty, mostly derived from sloppy experiments before the time of the scientific method.

Still, the concept of being tied together through death made you shudder a bit. It was a dangerous spell to make a copy of, but there was no rule against it. As a senior professor, the naga was authorized to copy any spell in the library.

You quickly made the copies and shuffled back to the naga, who was waiting patiently at the front desk. 

“Here you go!” you said, cheerfully, handing him the stack. 

He thanked you and slithered away. You watched his broad back as he left, unsettled for some reason. 

–

“I don’t like him,” Levi said quietly as you checked in books at the front desk. You followed his eyes to the corner, where the naga was curled up reading again. 

You drew your brows at him.

“That’s not like you, you like everybody,” you snorted, “what’d he do to you?” 

He glared across the library. 

“Something about him is creepy,” he said, “he’s here more than anyone else. A lot more and I looked up his browsing history on the public network. It's weird, all binding spells.”

You glanced over at him. He seemed perfectly normal to you, focused on whatever he was reading. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, “he’s a professor. They like to study and this is a library.” 

“Just…be careful around him,” he warned, “tell me if he says anything weird to you.” 

You nodded and he walked away.  

You shook your head of the bizarre interaction. Levi was normally a pretty affable wolf. It was weird for him to just not like someone for no reason. 

As if to test his instincts, you scooted your cart by him as you went to return books and stopped to say hello. 

“How is the research coming?” you asked. 

He looked up from his notes and pushed his glasses up his nose with a long finger. 

“Oh, excellent,” he said, “I think I’ve made a breakthrough in the translation. What experts have thought to mean blood is actually semen. They’ve been wrong for years.” 

You blushed. 

“Oh,” you said. 

His cheeks darkened and he cleared his throat.

“Erm…it’s a completely different reading of the text,” he mumbled on awkwardly, looking away. 

You couldn’t stifle your giggle and his eyes widened on you a bit. 

“What an interesting thing to study,” you laughed, “ancient cum spells.” 

He smiled too and the tension lifted.

“I suppose it is,” he chuckled, “but it’s for a good reason. We can learn a lot from the Meridian era. Partners were devoted back then, willing to risk it all for the ones they loved.

"Dating today is all apps and lies. It’s so plastic. My students hook up once and then never see their partner again only to do it the next night and the next night. Never any real connection. No real investment to speak of.” 

His eyes sparkled at you. 

“There’s something magical about true devotion,” he said, “and I think we’ve lost that romance with our technology.” 

“I guess I never thought of it that way, but you might be right,” you tilted your head, “People are always going on about not getting too attached.” 

He waved his hand. 

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, “nowadays people conflate real love with red flags. Obsession, they call it.” 

You weren’t sure you’d go that far. 

“Well there has to be a limit, I guess,” you said. 

He shook his head. 

“True love knows no limits,” he declared. 

You smiled at him, charmed he was so passionate about his work. 

“That’s quite a topic for an academic paper,” you chuckled. 

“Yes,” he said, settling down. 

“My department head isn’t thrilled with my pursuits, but I think it will make a brilliant book. “The Return of Romance” I want to illustrate how beautiful Meridian era romance was and how we can apply their principles to modern times. I already have a publisher lined up and he’ll change his tune when the University is mentioned in the press release.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” you said. 

He beamed at your praise revealing his fangs and you felt something brush your ankle. Looking down you realized the tip of his tail had wrapped itself around you. Your heart fluttered at the contact. 

“Um,” you murmured, lifting your foot. 

He blushed, clearing his throat. 

“S-sorry, it just does that sometimes,” he stammered, unwinding it. 

“I-it’s okay,” you stuttered back, “I-I should get back to work.” 

After that day you started seeing Arion more frequently, only not only at the library. He seemed to turn up random places where you were. You would see him at a coffee shop on a Saturday or at the grocery store after work. He made the excuse that he lived nearby so you brushed it off without thinking. It was kind of nice to have a handsome neighbor to bump into that always had a smile for you. You had no complaints. 

He even started bringing you little presents at work. It started with a cup of coffee. He apologized that he didn’t know how you took it, but made you tell him for next time. Then it was a book, a small picture book of Meridian era artwork. Some of it was quite pornographic. You should have seen that as a red flag, but he was an academic. You figured he didn’t have the same hang ups as you. This was all research to him.

It came to a head when he brought you a bracelet. It was tucked in black velvet and looked very old. It was a gold bangle with some strange script carved into it. 

“What’s that?” Levi asked, peeking over your shoulder to Arion’s dismay at the open box he was handing you. 

“It’s a gift for (Y/N),” he said, “none of your business.” 

Levi frowned. 

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be giving my employees gifts, (Y/N) is on the clock and you are also an employee of this university.” 

You waved your hands trying to diffuse the situation. 

“It’s nothing Levi,” you said, “just a friendly gift.” 

“Jewelry is not a friendly gift,” he snapped, “I’m going to have to ask you to stay out of the library if you continue to harass my staff.” 

You weren’t used to him being this protective. 

 “Levi!” you exclaimed, “you can’t ban him over this. It’s harmless!”

“(Y/N), I think there are some boxes for you to unpack in the basement,” he snarled, ordering you away and ending the conversation. 

You gave Arion an apologetic look and shuffled to the stairs. 

Levi apologized later, saying he just didn’t like guys who harassed women at work where they couldn’t escape and he didn’t feel comfortable with him taking an interest in you. He explained that it was his job to protect his staff from those sorts of things.

He even went as far as giving you a pamphlet on harassment in the workplace and told you he was reporting the interaction in the morning so there would be a record. You thanked him for taking it seriously and assured him it was just a casual friendship but he left for the night still determined to report it. 

Oddly, he didn’t come in to work the next day. He didn’t call or text and when you called him it went straight to voicemail. When he didn’t come in the day after that you went to HR wondering if you should call the police. When you finally were given permission to call them they just took your information and told you they would look into it, but that was all you could do. 

__

“You look anxious, (Y/N),” Arion said, as he slithered up to the front counter, “what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head, frowning. 

“Levi’s been missing for days. I just can’t help but be worried about him. This isn’t like him. What if something bad has happened?” 

Arion narrowed his eyes for a second before giving you an encouraging smile. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” he said, then pulled the box from before out of his jacket pocket, “I have something that will take your mind off of that.” 

He showed you the same bracelet as before. You fingered the pretty piece of jewelry, running your finger over the gold before picking it up.

“Go ahead,” he said, “try it on.” 

You snapped the bracelet on and it conformed to your wrist making you jump. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” he assured you, “there’s a bit of magic in it…to... make it your size.” 

“Oh,” you said, relieved. You looked at the script written on it. 

“What does it say?” you asked. 

“Sweet nothings,” he said, smiling, “just Meridian era poetry. There isn’t really a good translation of it in our language. Maybe something close to ‘the strings of endless devotion bind us’, but not quite.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, hopefully. 

“It’s lovely,” you said, “thank you for thinking of me.”

You were a little shocked, it was such a nice gift. You didn’t realize Arion thought so highly of you. 

“I think about you a lot, (Y/N),” he admitted, then blushed as if he hadn’t meant to say that. 

You smiled shyly. 

“I don’t mind if you think about me,” you shared, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Really?” he asked, his eyes widening. 

You giggled. 

“Sure, think about me all you want.” 

If only you knew how frequently that was, you might not have said those words. 

A customer cleared her throat, tapping her foot impatiently and Arion winked at you, giving you a little wave before he slithered back to his corner. 

–

Things went smoothly for the next few days, though Levi still hadn’t turned up. You knew how to manage the library on your own, so not much changed during the workday except you had to go to HR to get your timesheet approved instead of Levi. 

Arion brought you cups of coffee the way you liked it and pastries every day, his eyes always lingering on the bracelet on your wrist. You hadn’t taken it off. You’d tried the first night, when you showered, but the hinge was stuck and you didn’t want to break it trying to get it off yourself. You’d given up, figuring you’d take it to the jeweler over the weekend to have it fixed. It was such a nice gift you didn't mind wearing it and it appeared to be solid gold so the water wouldn’t change the color. 

“Good morning (Y/N),” Arion said, slithering up to you as he usually did, “what are you so busy with?” 

You were elbow deep in books, trying to get through the backlog. 

“I have to finish all these before my vacation,” you said, “the temp won’t know how to check them in right and it will be a nightmare to sort out when I get back.” 

“The temp?” he asked, his voice dropping and growing perhaps a bit more growly, “you’re going somewhere?” 

You smiled up at him, completely oblivious. 

“Oh yeah!” you beamed, “I’ve been saving up my PTO to take a trip to the ocean. I haven’t seen it in years. I’m catching a plane Monday morning. I’ll be back in a week.” 

You noticed Arion seemed genuinely disturbed. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked. 

“Erm…yes,” he mumbled, catching himself, “just thinking about a problem with my research.” 

He gave you a little wave before slithering over to his corner, his brow drawn. For the rest of the day he seemed to be frantically working something out, not looking at his books but instead his laptop and phone. You were too busy to go question him and it really wasn’t any of your business, so you just went back to checking in books and brushed it off. 

That night, however, on your walk home, you had the distinct feeling someone was watching you. You’d hurried into your apartment and locked the deadbolt, pushing it a few times to make sure it was tight. Closing the curtains, you let your magic light the stove and fill the kettle, setting it to boil. 

Hearth magic wasn’t usually taken very seriously though it really made your life easier. If anyone asked you, which they didn’t, it should be taught in college. Instead there was just a special interest club. It was considered a lesser magic, so easy and insignificant that there wasn’t much research done on it. 

You started some soup on the other eye of the stove and were beginning to relax when you heard a thunk that made you jump. It sounded like something heavy had fallen in your bedroom. 

You didn’t have any pets or roommates so there was no reason for anything to make any sound at all. Your mind immediately went to robbers. Gulping, you grabbed a baseball bat you kept by the front door and crept towards the bedroom. 

“H-hello…” you murmured, nudging the door open with your foot. 

The curtains were closed and the room was pitch black. You slid your fingers up the wall to find the lightswitch but something stayed your hand, making you jump a foot in the air. 

“AHHHH!” you screamed, jerking your hand back. 

Two large hands emerged from the darkness and clamped down on your shoulders, drawing you deeper into the inky room. You swung blindly with the bat, but whatever was there jerked it easily out of your hand.

You struggled as it pulled you under its arm, whispering strange words at you. Your body went limp and gradually the room began to fade. The last thing you saw was Arion’s face illuminated by the slice of light spilling in from the hallway. 

–

You woke with something tight wrapping around your waist. You shifted, your eyes still closed, and found you couldn’t move. You blinked, taking in the dim room around you and the naga sitting next to you reading in the lamplight. His coils were wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. He wasn’t squeezing very tight, but you had no hope of fighting the thick, solid muscle of his tail. 

“Arion?” you murmured, your head a little fuzzy, “what…where am I?” 

He gave you his soft smile, folding his book and laying it on the side table. The smile you had grown to like, so much. 

“You’re safe here.” 

For some reason him saying that you were safe made you feel the exact opposite. You started struggling, even though there was no hope of you breaking free. Arion cocked his head at you, sliding his glasses off of his nose and tapping them on his chin.

“You’ll only tire yourself out like that,” he told you and squeezed you just tight enough to make his point without hurting you, “and I’ve been waiting so long for you to wake up. It would be a pity.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind muddled and not entirely sure what was going on. 

“Why am I here?” 

He slid his glasses back up his nose and leaned in to you, frowning. 

“I didn’t want to do it this way…but you made me,” he said, “you can’t get away from me.” 

“Away from you?” you murmured, “what are you...y-you mean…my vacation?”

Realization bloomed in your mind as it sharpened. 

“You did this because of my vacation?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“You did this,” he clarified, “why would you ever want to leave me? If you wanted to go to the ocean, you should have asked.” 

“Asked?” 

He was speaking as if you were a couple or something. 

“Arion, I’m confused and you’re scaring me,” you said, “can you please release me so that we can talk?” 

He squeezed you tighter. 

“No,” he said petulantly, “I’ve spent enough time without you in my coils. I’m not letting you go now. I wanted to take things slower, but you’ve made me accelerate my plans. It’s as if you wanted this all along.” 

You swallowed thickly, trying to slow your racing thoughts. The shy, quiet professor you’d come to favor was a complete nut job! 

“My touch is not such a burden to you?” he almost pleaded, sliding you closer to him. 

You grimaced and tried to pull away. 

“Don’t touch me! You’re insane!” you screeched. 

He growled. 

“You don’t mean that,” he assured himself, “you’re just a little frightened, but everything is going to be okay, darling. Your beloved is going to make everything all right for you.”

“B-beloved?” you sputtered, unsure why your mind was hanging on that word. 

His reptilian eyes looked at you, his pupils blown out and a little wild. 

“I know you love me, (Y/N). You told me I could think of you as often as I like and I find that is all the time,” he said smiling, “we don’t have to hide it anymore. I’ve taken away any obstacle that could get in our way. You belong to me now.”   

You whimpered. This was truly a nightmare. 

“You don’t have to do this, Arion,” you whispered, “we can do this the right way. You can take me on a real date! We’ll have a nice time. You don’t have to do this!” 

You were lying to his face. If he believed you and let you go, you were going to run straight to the police, but you would say anything. He gave you his gentle smile again, his eyes more lucid. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll go on lots of dates as soon as I know you aren’t going to try to run from me,” he said, “I know you don’t really mean it, but I still have to be sure. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself running away from your destiny.” 

He brushed his hands through your hair. 

“You’ve been taught devotion like this is wrong, brainwashed, really,” he clucked, his long fingers carding the strands, “but I’m going to teach you true love, love stronger than life itself.” 

“W-what do you mean by that?” you whimpered, a cold stone dropping in the pit of your stomach. 

He jerked your wrist from where it was pinched between his body and yours, holding up the bracelet. 

“I’ve bound you to me,” he said with pride, twisting the metal, warm from your body heat, in his fingers, “the spell I’ve been researching worked! The binder has fused to you, it'll never come off.

"Now we can be together for this life and the next. We can’t ever be parted. We’ll die and meet again in the next life if we spend more than a day apart. ” 

He chuckled. 

“To think all it took was a little bit of semen, that was what the spell has been missing for thousands of years. It’s the breakthrough of my life, honestly!” 

He nuzzled your trembling body as the realization of what he was saying sunk in. The spell. The one you’d copied for him! 

“You can’t do this, Arion,” you hissed, “it’s illegal! It’s…It’s slavery!” 

“No, no, my love,” he said, “that’s what they want you to think. They want to control your mind. What we have is so, so special. No laws can bind us.”

Desperation had become anger and now anger was turning to despair. You sank into his coils, resigning yourself to your future. You were no magician. You had no power to fight this. You could make pots and pans dance, but that was about it. You were so far out of your depth. Tears plummeted down your cheeks in hot streaks. 

“That’s alright, darling,” he said, rubbing your back and pressing your head into his neck, “get it all out. You’ll feel better after a good cry and then we’ll have a snack.”

You breathed in his disgustingly delicious scent and hated that on some level it comforted you. 

[str8rat]

YIPPEE ANON ASKS,,, I WAS ANXIOUS TO SEND STUFF WITHOUT THIS,,

i was gonna say your art is very pretty i love it and yeah it looks very soft and squishy

i dunno i should probably make a request here um,, loop sif isa and mira cuddles maybe

or isafrin being mushy again

THANK YOU LOVE AHHHHH JUMPING UP AND DOWN HAPPILY <3 I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT

It was so fun to draw the cuddle pile hhhh THEM <3333

headcanon that loop will have no shame mercilessly teasing mira for reading romance and gory horror, which contrasts greatly with her 'cute looks' and overall sweet attitude. Mira gets pouty >:T