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sttoru · 1 year ago

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‘toji doesn’t know how to properly give aftercare — nor did he care to do so before. but, meeting you changed his ways of thinking.’

☀︎｜toji fushiguro x female reader. suggestive; fluff, comfort, angst. established relationship. hint of an age gap between toji and reader. mention of virgin!reader. mention of toji’s previous / past wife. grumpy sad dilf toji who learns how to love again t_t. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl’. self indulgent? yessir.

toji grunts and his exhausted body collapses to the side, careful not to crush you underneath his burly figure. he drapes one arm over his eyes with the other resting near his side. his eyelids felt heavy — clearly needing some rest after hours of continuous bodily satisfaction.

he had gone a bit overboard this once. even toji himself was feeling the aftermath since his muscles were aching and his brain was telling him to go to sleep. the assassin was about to, however his ears picked up on a little muffled whimper sounding from beside him.

“mmph,” you sniff. your face was still buried in the pillow below you — your tears and drool staining the material. your limbs were trembling and you were completely and utterly spent. you couldn’t even turn around to lay on your back; it was all just too much.

toji watches you with an unchanging expression for a second. normally for him this would be the part where he’d get the money, dress himself back up and leave through the front door with a small ‘thanks for your time’ comment.

but, that was his past. that was after the death of his wife and before he had met you — that was a dark time where he sought money in any kind of way to ease the hidden guilt and pain in his body. he’d sleep with women for a pay check. and maybe also to simply forget about his miserable life.

toji thought that he wouldn’t ever love himself nor another person again after his life went downhill. though, that thought was proven wrong by you.

you were a girl whom he had met on numerous occasions by accident to the point you decided to exchange phone numbers. you had also eventually started to help toji with his son - megumi - during tough times.

a sweet young woman: that’s what you were and still are in his eyes. maybe you were the change toji needed. the miracle to heal from his past and get himself together.

“hey,” the dark-haired man speaks up in a gruff tone after taking in your weak state. he felt a faint twinge of guilt deep within him since he was the reason you ended up like that. perhaps he took it too far.

you looked up at toji through half-closed and watery eyes. all you could do was tiredly hum in response, “mhm?”

silence follows. it’s not really awkward, but there was a barely noticeable sense of insecurity radiating from the assassin. for the first time in a good while.

toji’s eyes dart around the room in hopes of finding or seeing something that would remind him of what to do in such a situation. aftercare; he knew how important that is after sex, but had forgotten how to properly execute it. he hadn’t done so in a good few years.

that could also be an excuse. maybe he was simply afraid to show any kind of affection to someone again. maybe.

despite all of it — despite all those complex thoughts and feelings — his body moved on its own command. toji shifted closer to your side, rough hand slowly reaching out to give you some head pats. that’s the best he could do for now.

“heh.” you chuckle, yet felt extremely happy that toji had shown any type of affection toward you in such a vulnerable moment. his fingers massaging your scalp gently, over and over, was enough of a sign for you. a sign that he cares.

you knew all about his hard life; past and present. you accepted toji for who he was and what he has done and does. one of the only people who’d stay by his side throughout it all.

“thanks, toji.” the words that left your lips made the older man silently nod. his touch grew a bit more confident after your positive reaction. his hand traveled down to the nape of your neck and over to your shoulder, turning you around so you could lay comfortably on your back.

toji couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across your gorgeous skin. even if it was sweaty and covered in other bodily fluids, it still was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in his entire life.

“you okay?” he asks to which you give a weary nod. she’s far from okay judging by the looks of it, toji thought to himself.

he hesitantly leans his head down to plant a quick kiss on your shoulder. that did feel a bit awkward, though it turned loving the more you positively reinforced him with your verbal reactions.

toji sighs as he tries his best to keep you as comfortable as possible around him. his hands grab you by your sides and he hoists you up onto his lap, gently pushing your head against his chest; “c’mere my little girl.”

you happily accept the affection toji gives you. it wasn’t often that he’d do this after sex and you understand why. it takes a lot to heal from his previous wounds and you were there to support him throughout that journey. the fact that he was trying was enough.

“you’re nice ‘n warm,” you murmur, eyes droopy as you snuggle against toji’s bare chest. the older man chuckles at your comment and his big hands come to rest on your back to hold you in place — to give you a sense of security.

you didn’t have any regrets about tonight nor about any other night spent in bed with him. toji was the only man whom you were content with showing your body to. he’d never judge nor hurt you in any way, unlike the other more immature men in your indirect environment.

plus, you remember how unexpectedly gentle the big and scary looking man was with you during your first time a few days back. he was the perfect man for you in your eyes—in his own way.

“y’r real pretty. like a doll.”

the sudden compliment forces you awake. you blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you had heard. was it your imagination? no, it definitely sounded like toji. that deep and now almost groggy voice.

you lift your head up and lock eyes with the assassin. he was looking right back at you whilst the pad of his thumb delicately wipes some drool off your right cheek. you quietly stared at him for a good while which makes toji raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“pfft.” you let out a short laugh. you were both embarrassed and amused at the loving words that the older man had told you out of the blue. it made you feel tingly all over in a good way.

“what? did i say somethin’ weird?” toji questions as his hands slowly roam all over your body like they usually would, squeezing and rubbing longer in some spots, “i jus’ said what i observed.”

there was no hiding that lopsided grin on toji’s lips. the soft sound of your laughter was enough to make his entire body relax and give in to the warmth of the moment and the love that radiates between you two. you really were meant to be with him.

“no, no.” you shake your head after giggling. your lips find a spot on his chest to place a kiss upon in response, “it was cute.”

toji huffs at being called cute. no one had ever called him that. it didn’t really hurt his pride or ego — you could call him anything you wanted to and he wouldn’t mind. his rough hand does however give you a light smack on the ass after that.

“y’re lucky i love you, doll.” he grumbles and nuzzles his nose into your hair. the words left his lips before his brain had processed them. it was probably said subconsciously since toji doesn’t realise that he uttered the three words. the three words he usually hesitates on saying now flowing off the tongue so naturally.

you weren’t going to ruin the moment by teasing him about it. you were just happy that toji didn’t think twice before telling you that he loved you this time. it was a huge step forward in your relationship.

you simply giggle some more before placing a kiss on his lips that he instantly reciprocates.

“i love you too, toji.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you

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mediacircuspod · 1 year ago

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This scene was absolutely beautiful BUT it’s also the crux of the issue. You guys this is where the problems start. Because—because Crowley’s already cast out, he finds COMFORT in the idea that they are lonely together. “As far as he can” becoming “as far as they can” is an END to his complete “otherness” and something to appreciate, to covet, and to find solace in. He’s finally not alone.

But—and this is important.

Aziraphale does NOT feel that. He can’t.

This moment is completely and utterly devastating for Zira. He finds out he’s not damned and sure, he’s relieved. But he’s no longer “an Angel” in the way that he’s learned is right. He’s now unchangeably and forever; less holy—a concept that is dearly important to his identity. “[Going] along with heaven as far as he can” is a FAILING on his part. Not heaven’s(at least to him). There is no solace or comfort—he finds existence like that—just the two of them—achingly LONELY. And that’s just how his perspective demands to be taken. It’s the only perspective he is capable of in that moment AND after it, too.

Take into account Crowley has went from having no one AT ALL to having SOMEONE. And he puts EVERYTHING he has into it. This is not good. It’s unfair to Aziraphale. And it’s unfair to himself. On the opposite side, you have Aziraphale. Who has just went from having the ENTIRE HEAVENLY HOST, to having this SINGLE demon— who, one minute ago, Aziraphale thought would be dragging him off to hell.

And the part that aches is that this perspective hasn’t changed. Aziraphale feels like his existence is lacking because he wants so badly to be GOOD. And good is Holy. Good is heavenly. He’s the problem for having morals that are misaligned.

Spoilers for the last episode:

Aziraphale has just been given the validation that he is not only GOOD but the most HEAVENLY Angel there is, the Supreme Archangel, even. And if heavens morals are now HIS morals, then that’s EVERY PROBLEM SOLVED. With a bow even, because Crowley’s basically on heavens side anyway, he’s GOOD, isn’t he? He’s been good this whole time, so why wouldn’t heaven want him back? Reinstating him as Angel would fix everything. They can be together, and they can be good, and they can be HOLY. All Aziraphale’s conflicting emotions about loving Crowley can be packed away because Crowley will be perfect again—and surely Crowley wants to be perfect—wants to be forgiven.(sorry everyone, that hurt me too, oof) Aziraphale is SHOCKED by Crowley’s refusal. He’s devastated that his version of perfect is treated as something naive and distasteful.

Crowley’s devastated too. He’s just lost “their side”. A concept that for 5000+ years has been THE ONLY THING he puts love into besides his car and perhaps his plants(And humanity, but he’ll never admit to that—I’m looking at the “No more dying” scene). Crowley is constantly being devastated by Aziraphale. He’s “too fast”, he’s too evil, he’s too good sometimes. Crowley has always been TOO MUCH. But this is different because for four years, he’s had “them”(on their own side) without the hiding, and without the denial and without Aziraphale constantly putting former jobs between them. PLUS he has a mountain of trauma centered around the concept of “forgiveness”, so that’s not great considering Aziraphale’s last words to him(THAT HE HASNT SAID ALL SEASON EVEN WHEN HE MADE CROWLEY APOLOGIZE IN THE FIRST EPISODE, AHHHHH). He’s losing everything and he’s desperate: Why isn’t he enough, hasn’t he been enough these last 4 years? Hasn’t HE been enough the last 6000?

Aziraphale has always been enough for Crowley. But being enough for Crowley doesn’t fix how Aziraphale has never been enough for himself, not since Job. He looks at this offer as a chance for HIM to be enough, and for Crowley to be FORGIVEN. Crowley looks at it as a betrayal because it’s Aziraphale saying Crowley ISNT enough, and he NEVER has been.

But that’s not what Aziraphale is saying. He’s saying, “Let me fix it for you”. Crowley is hearing, “Let me fix you for it.” Two completely different and completely horrifying concepts.

And then Crowley needs to say HIS piece(oh my gosh, btw, this was heartbreaking).

“Let’s be together on our terms” is basically what I’ve distilled it down to. But Aziraphale hears, “Let’s run away from our problems”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to run away, and Crowley doesn’t want to change who he is.

They both want to be together so badly but they don’t understand why they each want it so differently. And Aziraphale can’t compromise because he’s brainwashed and LOATHES himself. And Crowley can’t compromise because he’s traumatized and LOVES Aziraphale just as he is. Crowley doesn’t want to be good on heavens terms. He can see Heaven for what it is; “toxic”. He hates heaven not only for what the Host did to him, but for HOW THEY TREATED Aziraphale.

They both don’t understand each other because for all the pleading and presenting and monologuing, they never once in that whole conversation, actually talked.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #go season 2 #go2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley and aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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furuu · 4 days ago

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∘ʚ ♡ You hear the tapping on the glass again, and this time it’s unmistakable. Sukuna sits perched just outside the sliding door, his crimson eyes focused with laser intensity on you. Draped in morning sunlight, his fluffy face is utterly blank, but the bright colorful bird in his mouth is hard to miss, and he watches you like he’s expecting some grand reaction.

With a sigh, you slide the door open, and Sukuna pads in without hesitation, holding his “gift” with careful precision. He sits down, tails swishing in slow, deliberate arcs as he places the small bird at your feet, staring up with an unreadable expression. To anyone else, it might look like nothing more than a blank stare, but you know the slight twitch of his ears, the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes; he’s awaiting approval, maybe even the smallest hint of admiration.

“Kitty...” you say softly, doing your best to keep your tone gentle as you crouch down. “You can’t just go around killing birds. Poor thing…”

He doesn’t even blink, instead leaning forward to nudge the bird a little closer to your feet, his expression unchanging. It’s obvious that to him, he’s just presented you with the finest treasure in the world, and his eyes watch you intently, as if to say, Look. I brought this for you.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to give him a light scratch behind his ears. “Alright,” you murmur, smiling. “Thank you, Sukuna. I appreciate the thought.”

His ear flicks, but he keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on something in the corner, clearly trying to play off his satisfaction with a haughty air. But the tell-tale rumble that vibrates from his chest gives him away, and the second pair of his eyes flutter closed in contentment, clearly soaking up the affection even as he tries to pretend otherwise.

Just when you think he’s done, he prowls around the room, circling, casting occasional glances your way like he’s assessing whether his “gift” has truly pleased you. And each time he looks over, you feel a warm flicker of affection. In his own strange, sometimes intense way, Sukuna’s just trying to show he cares—just as any other cat might with an unfortunate, feathery offering.

Finally, he stops, tails flicking with contentment as he settles at your feet, looking rather smug, as if his job here is complete. And despite the unusual nature of his gesture, you can’t help but feel a warm gratitude, reaching down to pat his head.

“Thank you, tiger,” you say again, and he gives a tiny, almost invisible nod before closing his eyes, sinking comfortably beside you, his massive form nearly curled protectively around you. ・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

#ᡣ꒰ᵔ⠀𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓅ℯ𝓈⠀𝒶𝓃𝒹⠀𝒲ℴℴ𝓁⠀.ㅤ ও #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #anime x female!reader #anime x chubby!reader #၇୧ ⠀ᅟ𓈒⠀ ɓɑɓɓᥣes⠀⠀( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ ⠀⠀⁺#. . ˚˖𓍢ִ

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salemlunaa · 3 months ago

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TO CHANGE REALITIES YOU MUST IGNORE THE 3D ᥫ᭡

ITS HARD PUT YOU GOTTA PUSH THROUGH

Don’t bug, your girl is back!! (iykyk)

When it comes to shifting and manifesting, I know the 3D can be hard when it’s in your face but you have to push that barrier. Being told that nothing comes easy in this world has wired our brains to believe that manifesting and shifting cannot be this easy. But we have to break that barrier to getting in to our god state. I must preface that the 3D is just a physical plane it’s not your enemy and it’s not end all, be all. The 3D is just utterly irrelevant, and i’m not saying that in a negative way, it’s simply just irrelevant because the only reality is your imagination. The 3D is malleable and dormant and only reflects what the 4D is dominant in.

once you accept it in the 4D with out any inch of doubt the 3D will have no choice to conform, you can change the 3D without the 4D, the 3D isn't real and is just a mirror for the 4D, without focusing on the 4D the 3D remains untouchable and unchanged. So you must move your focus to the 4D instead of obsessing over the 3D.

Let me give you an analogy, let’s say you’re going out with a friend and you look in the mirror and see that the yellow top you’re wearing doesn’t look as good as you wanted and you would like to change into your green top, you’re not going to try and change the mirror, trying to put your hand through the mirror to change your outfit or hitting the mirror and crying because your top hasn’t changed, because you’re gonna look really stupid aren’t you? You would change yourself, you would go to the closet and change self and then when you have changed into your green top the mirror will also reflect that you are wearing your green top. The 3D is JUST a mirror that will only change once you have changed self and accepted your new reality. That’s it. That’s what manifesting and shifting is, not all this complicated nonsense, you are just changing self.

so yes you did go to the void and wake up in your dream reality and YOURE SO HAPPY, feel and think as if. Idc if you woke up in the bed of your shitty “reality” because it’s not real, you have no place there you are a void/manifesting MASTER and anything you say goes.

CHANGE SELF + FORGET THE REST = SHIFTING BEING EASY AS FUCK 🐅💋

#shiftblr #permashifting #reality shifting #shifting #law of assumption #loa #success story #void state #the void #void concept #respawning #the void state #voidstate #void state tips #manifesting #desired appearance #archive♡

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lokisgoodgirl · 8 months ago

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Open Skies [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's first time flying the Quinjet is a memorable one. Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Silly things. Mutual pining. Oral (M). (w/c 2.2k)

Tony dangled the key between his thumb and forefinger. The fob swung in front of Loki’s smirking face. “To Virginia, and back again,” Tony said. He was not in the mood for games. Loki’s eyebrows shot up. He pressed his fingers to his chest in mock-hurt before extending the cup of his palm out, fingers unfolding with a graceful flourish. “I need to learn, Stark..." he postured innocently. “The simulations only go so far. You know that.”

“And you’ll behave?” Loki rolled his eyes. “What egregious sin could I possibly commit with your garish vessel while under the watchful eye of our trustworthy Agent here?” he said, flicking a finger towards you. “Is that not why she has been chosen for this farce? To keep me in line? To make sure I don’t damage this metal substitute for masculinity?” Tony’s eyes darted in an aborted eye-roll. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, observing Loki with suspicion. “It should only take you twenty minutes- if that,” he said, tossing the fob in the air. The god caught it. Loki let you walk ahead up the ramp. The weight of his stare clung to your ass like wet paint as you made your way to the front of the craft and slid into the passenger seat. He paused, giving both headrests a squeeze as he observed the screens. You watched his profile stiffen, a swallow working his neck. For all his breezy pomposity, he was nervous. “Just like the simulator,” you said, “you’ll be fine.” Loki's face remained unchanged by your re-assurance. He cleared his throat, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater; the one with the Avengers logo that he swore the first time he saw it that he would never wear.

He manoeuvred himself into the driver’s seat. “Is he watching?” he asked quietly. You pressed the screen, making the rear camera pop up. Tony stood below the under-hang of the landing area, arms folded. “Right..." Loki said, lips pursing.

He ran his palms down the tight chinos creased to his thighs. One long finger tentatively pressed against the central screen.

In a matter of seconds, the Quinjet’s engines fired to life. Loki flinched. His fingers flexed before their length curled around the lever sitting between you. He pushed it into elevate. "Thirty-five-thousand feet..." Loki murmured to himself, pressing a series of buttons on the screen.

He reached up, pressing an intercom above his head.

"This is Loki Laufeyson, Avengers Unit, Stark Tower," he said, gazing out the huge window at the skyscrapers.

His voice made goose-bumps ripple on your skin. It massaged over the syllables like crude oil over glass, thick and utterly erotic in its uniform sincerity. “Lifting off - flightpath expected from New York City to above Richmond, Virginia. No target, no landing. Training exercise, thirty-five thousand feet. Copy?”

He released the button. Static hummed. Loki’s fingers readjusted around the lever. “Copy, Mr Laufeyson." the radio crackled. "Clear for take-off. Route mapped. Any changes, let us know.”

Loki let out a small, satisfied sigh. He shot you a weak smile. “Good?” he asked. You nodded. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, delicate strands falling around his face. It framed his cheekbones perfectly. “Try not to be too aroused by my piloting-skills, Agent,” Loki goaded, turning his attention to the thrusters. “I have been practising very hard to make it seem effortless.” He pressed several more buttons without a pause.

You and Loki had hooked up for several weeks just before his most recent mission. But whether it was clarity during the absence, or simply lack of interest; when he had come back no moves were made on either side. On your part, it was simple terror. Being with Loki in that way was unbelievable the first time that it had happened, never mind the seventh, eighth, ninth. Part of you didn’t want to push your luck. It had crossed your mind that he had actually forgotten. And if that was true, then you didn’t want to know.

The force of the ascent pushed you back into your seat, facing forwards. Out the corner of your eye you saw a grin stretch over the god’s face as the New York skyline became mere dots below. He yanked the lever a few more times into position, setting it in cruise. The beep of buttons and the hum of the engines were the only sounds. Ahead, there was nothing but open skies. “Well done, I’m very impressed,” you said with a smile, shifting to face him. The seatbelt dug into your shoulder. Without realising, you had set a hand to rest on his thigh. The two of you looked at it, eyes rising to meet. One of Loki’s brows cocked. “Agent?” he growled. “Are you trying to seduce the captain?”

You were about to deny it. But he was the god of lies, after all. In which case there was no getting around it. And even if there was – did you want to? “Yes.” you said. Loki barked a small laugh of disbelief, turning his eyes back to the wide windows. “It will take more than that, Agent.” he said, offering a small nod to the hand resting mid-way up his thigh. “Especially after giving me the cold-shoulder on my return.” Your stomach dropped. “I did no such thing-” you started, but Loki had begun to tut. It’s slow methodical click ticked over the air between you. His eyes never left the blue sky out the front of the Quinjet. “On the contrary. On my return, I came to your rooms. I left a note, and quite a suggestive one at that. I made myself quite vulnerable, actually.” You frowned. “Loki, I moved rooms like three weeks ago.” Loki pressed a finger to his forehead. “Who’s in your old one?” “Scott.” “Ah,” Loki said, grimacing. “I was wondering why he had been particularly familiar of late.” The god shot you a sheepish smile. “I may have gone into great detail about oral sex in my correspondence.” “Giving or Receiving?” “Receiving.” The two of your burst into raucous laughter.

Loki took his hands from the steering wheel, wiping a tear of mirth. “In defence of my uncouth written request, you do give the most glorious blowjobs,” he muttered, offering a tilt of his head. “And it was a very long mission. I was in desperate need of attention.” “Did you ever get it?” “No. Although in hindsight, Lang did attempt to ease my disposition.”

You and Loki exchanged a restrained smirk before bursting into laughter again. “I feel terrible,” you said, starting to feel giddy. “I thought you weren’t into me anymore, so I just…” “Gave up without a fight?” Loki said, pressing a button and shifting the stick. “Understandable. I am rather intimidating.”

Your hand began to dance up his thigh, following the rise of his insane quad muscle. You squeezed. The fingers slid inward, brushing the growing bulge in his crotch. Loki shifted in his seat, chinos rustling. “Agent…” he warned. But his eyes sparkled.

The god’s legs widened in the generous seat. Creases ran thick across his spread thighs, the outline of his cock stark against the light fabric. It stretched up to his hip by the side of the zipper. You bit your lip as he thrust gently into your cupped hand. “We shouldn’t…” you said, tracing the length of his cock with one light finger. “No,” Loki breathed. “But we will.” The click of your seatbelt and the resulting flurry of your fingers at his buttons was instant. Loki raised one arm to let you work, lowering the tight zipper and setting his cock free with a bounce into your waiting hand. “Fuck,” he choked through ragged breaths, “Agent you don’t have to-” You looked up at him, head pressed back against the rest and the veins in his throat tightening. He had that stoic, regal set upon his features, cheekbones hard and unwavering, mouth closed as he stared at your with hungry eyes. The only thing that gave him away was the sound of small puffs of air flaring in rapid succession from his nostrils. Without looking, you could tell his knuckles were white on the wheel. One of his forearms rested on the nape of your neck.

“If you don’t think I want to suck your cock, Laufeyson,” you whispered, pausing to place a kiss on the leaking tip, “then you’re even crazier than I thought.” Loki inhaled sharply as you swallowed him. The breath caught in his throat, forcing its way back through a series of stuttering breaks that made desire thrash deep in your cunt. Fingers wrapped around the base of him, you worked slowly back and forth until his manhood was slippery with spit. Your face lowered on to the bottom of Loki’s sweatshirt with every dip of your head. Sucking wet and hot as the vein that ran the length of his cock throbbed against your tongue. There it was, that sweet saltiness pearling at the cracked creases of your lips. God, how you’d missed that. The taste of him. There was nothing like it.

Loki’s placid moans filled the cockpit. It was polite, in a way. Gentlemanly, while his slender fingers grasped delicately against your hair. You lingered at the crown, running your tongue against the sensitive underside.

Loki jolted in his seat. The Quinjet took a dive, and you froze - cushioning his glory with your tongue as the god corrected the flightpath. He chuckled, hissing as you tightened the grip of the fingers around his root and began to pump in time with your mouth. “We’ve reached-uh...g-gods, Richmond,” he stammered. His fingers grasped at your hair, knees beginning to tremble. “I’m carrying out a soft turn, bringing us one hundred and sixty degrees before returning to the original..f..f-fuckk-flightpath.” Humming approval through a mouthful of his cock, you lost yourself in the warm musk of his public hair. The metal zipper caught against your chin, grazing with every deep dive of the god into your throat. But you didn’t care. Loki’s gentle whines were all you could hear over the engines, panting praises and murmurs of lustful promises that you would hold him to when this thing landed. If it landed.

“Gods-” Loki choked, punctuated with a thump as his skull fell against the headrest. "How can you do this to me, Agent?” he gasped, rubbing your back as you quickened the pace. “You’re the best…” he moaned, hips rising to meet the bob of your jaw, “you’re the b-best I’ve ever had..I- uhh...”

The god’s fingertips dragged down your back, fist clenching and unfurling. He let out a primal grumble. “I’m going to cum, darling-” he growled. “Has anything c-changed?” You shook your head, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth and pooling in a wet patch on his chinos. Swallowing all the spit you could, you pressed your lips tighter around his girth, sucking furiously. Loki flinched with pleasure; and although you couldn’t see him, you knew his eyes were rolling back. You’d bet a few more of those slutty little curls had come loose too. Loki’s bucks were quicker now. He was trying to be restrained, but still his hips shuddered against the seat trying not to fuck your mouth with all his might. The Quinjet thrashed to the side, immediately correcting.

The god’s breaths were heavy, unintelligible filth falling from his lips and slithering into your ear as you worked him. "Good girl," he gasped, palm flying to the window my his side, "oh, f-fuck yes...good girl-vakker... just like, u-uh-" His palm slid down the window with an obscene squeak.

With a curse-littered groan, both of his arms went flying up behind the headrest. He pulled it forwards, the force of his abdomen’s clench pressing against your forehead. Loki’s hot cum hit the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the sweet tang you craved. It kept coming, spreading into every pocket of space not occupied by his meat. His groans of pleasure filled the cockpit while you swallowed - pretty little moans snaking from his throat as he rode higher than the clouds.

Your lips left the tip of his flushed member with a slurp. Loki looked at you, dazed and slut-drunk. His seed glistened at the corners of your mouth as you squeezed his cock from the base a final time. A thick ream of cum blossomed at the opening. With one finger, you scooped it off, placing it carefully on the tip of your tongue.

“How I’ve missed you,” Loki slurred before his mouth was on yours.

You could feel his tongue search your own, tasting himself on each caress, swallowing the mess that you had made of him. Breaking apart, you took a moment to appreciate just how fucked-out Loki looked. The god’s cheeks were flushed, his lips raw and pink from rough kisses; his tied-up hair was askew, one side falling down in inky tendrils across his shoulder. The sweatshirt was rumpled, and there was a spreading wet patch on those lovely cream chinos. “How long do we have?” you asked, realising that you probably didn’t look much better. Loki’s eyes flickered to the screen. “Three minutes.” he said, disappointed. As Loki nailed a perfect landing, you made a final check of yourself in the window’s reflection. His knuckles trailed gently down your bicep. “I’ll see you inside?” he asked quietly. His pupils were still bottomless pools. “At your rooms,” you smiled, fighting to contain a laugh. “Not Scott’s.” Loki nodded agreement, lips curling. “I really did wait, you know.” he said. “I know.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The two of you disembarked and Tony was waiting for the debrief exactly where you'd left him. He seemed happy with everything, by and large. But his arms remained folded. You began to make your way into the Tower. “Laufeyson. A word.” Tony barked. Loki rolled his eyes, subtly gesturing for you to go on ahead. “How’d you like her then? State of the art?” Stark hummed, gesturing to the Quinjet. Loki raised a brow. “It was perfectly fine.” Loki said. “Not ‘the best you’ve ever had’?” Tony slipped his sunglasses down his nose. Loki’s brow furrowed. “Cameras?” “Cameras,” Tony replied, tossing Loki the key-fob. “I’ll delete my evidence if you hop on back and delete your evidence with some of that magic-bleach. Deal?” “Deal.” Loki sighed.

Tags (cont in comments) @lokischambermaid @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @marygoddessofmischief @thevillainswhore @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x female reader #lokismut #loki gifs #loki marvel #loki odinson #loki odison x reader

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seoltzuki · 5 months ago

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Sorbet

sana x afab reader

angst, smut, (don’t steal, repost, translate)

lust, carnal, touch, cycle, it never ends…

Tonight will be the last time.

The routine remains unchanged. Every night, Sana needs you. Your presence is her anchor during her lonely evenings. This is the only time you visit her place; otherwise, she spends her days at yours.

Life feels lighter during the day, especially with the brightness you bring, filling every moment with warmth and ease.

It's a pattern, like a line tracing a circle, unbroken and predictable.

She doesn't need to call.

It's the same routine, a line tracing a circle.

You enter her apartment and head to her bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, the lights off, but it doesn't matter. It's just late enough for the sky to be a deep navy blue, with white-yellow hues piercing through the clouds. The familiar creak of the floorboards, the soft rustle of curtains, and the faint scent of her perfume guide you. You slip inside, knowing exactly where she'll be, waiting for you in the comforting shadows.

And there she stands.

Leaning against her sturdy vanity, the glow of city lights streaming through the expansive windows, a single manicured nail between her teeth.

She looks vulnerable yet undeniably pretty, her damp hair hinting at recent time spent under the shower's spray. Despite the late hour, she's adorned in a charming dress and subtle makeup.

You've reassured her multiple times that dressing up wasn’t necessary for your visits, especially at such a late hour.

The day is over, why bother?

But she’d always persist, expressing her desire to always present her best self for you, regardless of the time, even if she had previously washed the day away.

"Sana," you murmur, drawing her attention away from the cityscape, her gaze shifting from the skyline to meet yours.

A faint twitch plays on her lips as you both remain still, simply absorbing each other’s presence.

Tonight will be the last time.

You approach her until you're face to face, her sparkling eyes fixed on you.

She begins with her hand, the nail slipping out from between her teeth. Cupping your jaw, she exhales softly, her lips pursed before she gazes out the window once more, her perfect profile coming into view. You notice the sharpness of her nose and the plumpness of her upper lip, teased by her tongue. Her thumb glides gently across your cheek as another sigh escapes her, her eyes now glassy as she looks back at you.

Not wanting to witness her unshed tears, you lean in until your noses touch, your breath mingling with hers. You wrap your arm around her waist, and her other arm loops around your neck, drawing you closer.

She’s the one who initiates the kiss, her lips gently interlocking with yours, the touch so tender, so deliberate.

Her hand lingers on your cheek, her touch soft and reassuring, while the other finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if trying to bridge any distance that might remain between you.

It’s unhurried and slow. Like it’s always been between you two.

There’s never a rush, since it never ends.

Another kiss follows, lingering and sweet, before she playfully teases your lower lip with a lick before parting from you. Her lipstick is already smudged, but she looks so incredibly beautiful.

A soft whine escapes her lips as you squeeze her waist, a silent plea for more. Slowly, she begins to undress you, her movements gentle. With careful hands, she removes your shirt and pants, leaving you standing in your undergarments, vulnerable yet utterly desired in her eyes.

She leans back against the vanity to recompose herself, her breath uneven. It's crazy how much you affect her, how a simple kiss and the sight of your nearly bare body leaves her dizzy with want. She eyes you up and down with a tilted head, a small pout on her lips.

You say her name again, reaching out for her hand. She takes it willingly, pressing a tender kiss to its palm before meeting your gaze.

“Switch. I want you to lean on the vanity,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath, but commanding.

You do as she says, turning to lean against the vanity, the cool wood pressing against your skin. Sana steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. She runs her hands down your shoulders and along your arms, sending shivers through you. Her touch is light, teasing, making you crave more.

Her fingers brush against the necklace you wear, a simple chain with an old promise ring hanging from it—the ring she gave you long ago. She doesn’t comment on it, but her fingers linger, playing with the ring, the gesture filled with unspoken emotion.

Then, they trace down your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She pauses at your waistband, her eyes locking with yours once more, silently asking for permission.

When you nod, she slowly peels away your undergarments, her hands steady and sure. The air feels electric between you, each movement filled with anticipation. Once you’re completely bare, she steps back slightly, admiring you with an intense gaze.

“Stay just like that,” she breathes. Her lips brush against your collarbone, trailing along your skin. Her hands roam your body, exploring every curve, while her kisses become more insistent, more demanding.

There's nowhere else to be now; you let everything else melt away. Her fingers still playing with the promise ring, she sinks to her knees, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her eyes…

They’re locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. She takes her time, her hands gently parting your thighs, her touch both reverent and possessive. Her breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the waves rushing in.

She always insists on being the first to bring you pleasure, relishing in the way your body reacts to her, savoring the way you come undone beneath her touch.

Your taste, your sounds, the way you feel… gosh, she drips for you.

But it’s not just about the physical connection for her; it’s about holding onto the moment, controlling the narrative so her own thoughts don’t consume her.

She begins with a soft kiss, just above your most sensitive area, her lips brushing lightly against your skin. She moves slowly, her kisses deliberate and teasing, each one sending a ripple of pleasure through you. Her tongue follows, a slow, sensual lick that makes you gasp, the sensation both electrifying and maddening.

Sana takes her time, savoring every moment. Her tongue moves with exquisite slowness, tracing patterns that drive you wild. She alternates between gentle, teasing flicks and deeper, more insistent strokes, her mouth working you with a carnal hunger that leaves you breathless. She moans softly against you, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure.

Her hands are not idle; they grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as she devours you. Her fingers occasionally dig into your flesh, a reminder of her control, of the pleasure she’s giving and withholding in equal measure. She moves with a rhythm that is both patient and relentless, drawing out your pleasure precision.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with the sounds of her mouth on you. Each touch, each lick, is designed to bring you closer to the edge, and she never lets up, never rushes, savoring your reactions, feeding off your pleasure.

She takes you to the brink and holds you there, drawing out your pleasure, making every second feel endless.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and you see the raw desire in them. When you finally can’t hold back any longer, she takes you over the edge with a slow, sensual suck, her tongue never stopping its dance.

It’s like an explosion, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Sana still doesn’t stop, her tongue and lips working you through your climax, prolonging your pleasure until you’re trembling over her. She slows only when you do, her movements becoming tender, soothing, as you come down from the high.

A teasing flick of her tongue on your clit makes you finally look down at her. She lingers, placing soft kisses on your trembling skin. Her eyes are dark with satisfaction, her lips glistening. She moves back up your body, her hands and lips trailing a path until she pushes her face into your neck, pulling you into a warm embrace.

Her own breath is heavy, the fabric of her dress scratching against your bare chest. You can feel her satisfaction, the way she revels in your release; her hands still caressing your sides, nails barely even digging into you….

She savors the moment, knowing it will help her find peace, if only for a little while.

“You always taste so good,” she breathes against your skin. “You’re just… so good, so perfect…” Her words trail off into a low moan, the intensity of her longing evident in every syllable.

Sana brings her fingers to you, gently gathering your arousal before slowly bringing them to your lips. Her eyes lock onto yours, intense and filled with a mix of lust and affection. She leans in, her breath hot against your skin as she watches your reaction closely.

“Go on,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “Taste yourself.”

You part your lips, letting her fingers slip inside. The taste of yourself mingles with the remnants of her touch, and the intimacy of the act sends another wave of heat through your body. Sana’s eyes darken, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“See? So good,” she breathes, leaning in to capture your lips in a deep, languid kiss, sharing the taste between you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a melding of tongues and lips.

As she pulls away, she continues to gaze at you with that same intense look, her fingers still resting lightly against your lips. “You’re perfect,” she repeats, her voice filled with sincerity and a hint of awe.

“I wanna go again,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice laced with longing, her teeth grazing your lower lip. “Please, I can’t get enough of you.”

She knows that by extending the night, she can have you for a little while longer. And if she’s the last to climax, sleep will come easier, shielding her from her own thoughts and the bittersweet sight of you leaving in the early morning light.

“After I get to make you feel good,” you say softly, voice promising, as you lean in closer. “I know you’re aching.”

Sana’s eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of need and something else. She gently takes your hand, guiding you towards the bed. Instead of lying down together, she gives you a gentle push, urging you to recline on the bed. You settle back, propped up on your elbows, watching her intently.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Sana reaches behind her to unzip her dress. The fabric slips down her shoulders, revealing more of her smooth, bare skin. She maintains eye contact, her gaze smoldering with desire as she peels the dress away, inch by tantalizing inch. The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie, which she soon discards as well.

You can hardly breathe as you take in the sight of her, every curve, every line of her body illuminated in the soft light of the sky. Sana steps closer, her movements slow and sensual, crawling onto the bed to straddle your lap. Her hands move to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hips as she positions you comfortably beneath her.

“I want to make you feel just as good,” you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Let me take care of you.”

She leans in, her lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss. She arches into you, her breath hitching as your touch becomes more insistent, your desire to bring her pleasure driving you forward.

You flip over and hover over Sana, holding your weight on your arms as you watch her, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen from your kisses. She gazes up at you with the same intensity. Her hands caress your back, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

Her eyes drift to the dangling necklace between you two, the old promise ring catching the light. Something unknown flashes in her eyes, but it quickly transforms into something carnal. She leans up, her nails digging into your back, and wraps her teeth around the ring, gently tugging it with a smirk.

The sight sends a rush of heat through you, and you lower yourself just enough to brush your lips against hers, teasingly slow. Her breath hitches, and she releases the ring, her hands trailing up to cradle your face as she pulls you into a deeper kiss, her body arching into yours.

You both roll your hips into each other, the friction between you spreading wetness and igniting a fire that burns hotter with each movement. Sana’s breath becomes shallow as she grinds against you, her desire evident in the way she responds to your touch.

Suddenly, she flips you over again, her movements fluid and confident. She straddles your lap, her body poised above yours as she looks down at you with a hunger in her eyes.

With a sultry smile, Sana takes one of your hands and brings your fingers to her lips, sucking them into her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. You watch, captivated, as she swirls her tongue around your fingers, each flick sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. Her eyes never leave yours, dark pools of desire that draw you in deeper with each passing moment.

The sensation of her mouth on your fingers is electrifying, as she takes you deeper into her mouth.

With each movement, each caress of her tongue, you feel yourself growing more aroused, the desire pooling low in your belly. You can’t tear your eyes away from her, mesmerized by the way she devours you with such passion and intensity.

As she releases your fingers with a soft pop, a wicked glint dances in her eyes. “God, I want your fingers inside me,” she huffs. “Please, baby.”

Her words ignite a fire within you, and without hesitation, your hands roam over her body, caressing every inch of her skin as you bring your lips to her chest, kissing and teasing her nipples with your tongue.

Sana moans softly, her breath hitching as your fingers trail down between her thighs, feeling the wetness that awaits you. You slide your fingers inside her, feeling her slick walls tighten around you, welcoming you with a delicious heat.

She gasps, her hips beginning to roll against your hand, matching the rhythm of your movements. “Yes, that’s it!” she whines. “Make me feel good.”

You suck gently on her nipples, your tongue flicking against the sensitive buds as you continue to move your fingers within her. Sana’s moans grow louder, her body trembling with pleasure as she rides your fingers, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she loses herself in the sensations you’re giving her. “Oh, god,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t stop.”

In her ecstasy, Sana reaches down and grabs onto the necklace hanging between you, pulling it taut. The ring dangles between your faces.

She tugs on it, bringing your lips closer to hers. “This… this means you should be mine,” she cries, her voice edged with a desperate plea.

You feel her tightening around your fingers, her release drawing near. With each stroke, you push her closer to the edge, her body shuddering in your arms.

Her hips move with an urgent rhythm, grinding against your hand, desperate for more. You add another finger, stretching her, filling her, making her moan even louder. “Yes, yes,” she pants, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of love and lust.

“Rock with me. I won’t let go,” you murmur, reassuringly.

Sana’s breath catches, her hands find your shoulders, her grip tightening as she leans into you, her hips switching to a slow, rhythmic dance. “I need you,” she sobs. “I need you so much.”

I don’t want this night to be the last time, y/n.

Your free hand trails up her back, pulling her even closer as you feel the pressure building within her. Her wetness coats your fingers, each thrust bringing her closer to the edge. You can feel the urgency in her movements, the way she grinds against you, desperate for release.

With a breathless whimper, Sana tugs on the necklace again, the chain pressing into your skin as she pulls you nearer. The sensation drives you wild, a physical reminder of the hold she has on you.

“Don’t stop, oh my god,” she pleads, her voice breaking with emotion. “Please, don’t stop.”

You respond by quickening the pace, your fingers moving faster within her as you continue to kiss and suckle at her breasts. Her moans grow louder, her body trembling with the intensity of her impending climax.

“Let go for me, my angel,” you whisper, teeth sinking into her skin.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Sana’s body tenses, her release crashing over her in waves. She clings to you, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides out the pleasure, her cries filling the room.

As she nestles into you, her breathing slowing, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction and guilt. “I won’t let go,” you repeat softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, savoring the closeness and the warmth of her body against yours.

You feel her grip on the necklace tighten, her fingers lingering on the ring. “I know you’ll leave in the morning,” she whispers, a tremor in her voice. “You always do.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of sadness gnawing at your heart. “Sana…”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice growing softer, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Just stay with me tonight. Let’s pretend everything is perfect, just for a few more hours.”

You nod, pulling her closer, feeling her body relax against you. Her breathing becomes more even, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifts off to sleep mid-sentence. “I love you,” she murmurs, barely audible, before sleep takes her completely.

You hold her tight, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. The room is silent except for her soft, steady breathing. You know the morning light will bring reality crashing back down, the cycle continuing, the line drawing a circle, and the pain of parting will return.

If she truly wanted to break the cycle, she would invite you over during the day, saving your pleasure for last.

She would love you the way she’s supposed to.

Tonight was never gonna be the last night.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #kpop imagines #gg x reader #twice scenarios #gg imagines #twice smut #sana x reader #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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rescue-ram · 2 months ago

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There's a handful of lines that actually stuck with me in the MASH novels, but the one I like best is roughly "Hawkeye had feared Trapper at home would be exactly like Trapper in the army, and was relieved to find that wasn't so." Because that's such a delightfully nuanced view of someone- where I met them in one setting and I love them but I hope to God I never see them like this again and am relieved to find them utterly different than I remember.

And I was thinking the inverse would be an interesting angle on the BJ and Hawkeye friendship axis- Hawkeye assumes BJ is different at home than he is at war, and is shocked to find him unchanged...

#mash

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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The Witching Hour - Chapter 4 - Morrigan

Summary:

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings:

Seeing the future, Mor bashing, mention of rough but consensual sex

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

"You invited who to lunch?" Mor breathed. Feyre looked at her, a flicker of something in his expression. Concern, maybe?

"Cate agreed to join us," she said, his voice steady. "She might be our best chance of helping Elain."

Mor closed her eyes. "You invited Cate to lunch? Are you serious?" she hissed at Feyre. “Does Rhys know about this?" Mor demanded. Probably not, because she was quite sure that her cousin would have put a fucking stop to it.

Feyre let out a deep breath. "No," she admitted. "I haven't told Rhys yet."

Mor's eyes widened. "You haven't told him? Are you out of your mind?" she demanded. Rhys was going to be utterly furious and Mor couldn’t even fault him for it.

At Feyre's side, Nesta let out a snort, a small smirk on her lips.

Hecate was… morally questionable on a good day.

She disappeared for decades and then showed up somewhere, wrecking havoc only to disappear again. Morrigan was quite sure that she had fingers in every bit of political unrest of the last thousand years in some way or another. That was literally what she was known for.

Witches were a dying breed, rare and often assassinated for the power they possessed...but nobody had yet managed to killed Hecate The Undying. Which was too bad.

Feyre's irritation flared at Mor's words, but she tried to keep her voice steady. "Look, I understand your reservations about Cate, but...she's willing to help us with Elain. That's what matters right now."

Mor's expression darkened even further. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Feyre,” she implored her friend. “Cate is... dangerous.” That didn’t even begin to cover it. Dangerous was a fucking understatement. “You don't want her involved in this."

"So everybody keeps telling. But nobody says what exactly makes her oh so dangerous," Feyre said with a roll of her eyes. Mor considered throttling her High Lady. "Azriel gets along with her so she can't be that bad, right?" Feyre asked her. Mor clenched her jaw, frustration welling up within her.

Feyre was always so stubborn, so determined to see the best in everyone. It was endearing but also infuriating.

"You don't understand," she said through gritted teeth. "Cate may look harmless enough, but she's...unpredictable. Unhinged. She has a history of crossing lines, of violating boundaries, both physical and mental.And while Azriel gets along with her," Mor continued, her tone sharp. "That's not a good thing. Azriel and Cate have a...complicated history, to say the least. They've gotten far too close, in more ways than one."

Feyre rolled her eyes. "I'm sure they've spent some time... together."

Mor wanted to grab Feyre and shake her. "That's putting it lightly," she said, her voice strained. "They've done much more than just spend time together, and their...relationship has never been entirely...healthy."

Feyre's expression remained unchanged. "So what if they've slept together?" she said, her voice calm and level. "They're both consenting adults. I fail to see why it's such a big deal."

Mor felt her irritation flare, and she struggled to keep her voice even. "You don't understand," she repeated, her tone bordering desperation. "What they do…it's...it's not normal. Not healthy. It's a toxic..habit."

"I like how you are comparing me to a mirthroot addiction."

Morrigan growled, turning around. There she was.

Mor's gaze hardened as Cate made her entrance, strolling in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It infuriated her how cavalier the female could be, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Yet, despite herself, Mor found her eyes being drawn to the female, taking in her effortless beauty. Cate hadn't changed over the centuries. Still breathtakingly beautiful.Yes, Cate was undeniably attractive, but she was also dangerous. Lethal, even.

Mor blinked as she took in the dress she wore. For one moment she may have called it modest, with long sleeves and a floor-length skirt...and then she blinked and the off-the-shoulder neckline revealed bruises and bite marks that covered Cate’s neck and shoulder.

Mor felt her eyes widening at the sight of the marks marring Cate's skin.

She knew the female was unrestrained, that she had no reservations about her body or her...encounters with Azriel, but seeing the evidence of her...dalliances on display was still jarring, to say the least. Mor's eyes darkened as she noticed Feyre's gaze flickering to the marks, a flicker of curiosity and...something else in her expression. Something that made Mor's blood boil.

This was not the time to let her mind wander to thoughts of Azriel and the things he had done with this female. She had to keep her focus, keep her mind on the task at hand.

But it was hard, when Cate was standing there, dressed to tantalize, with the physical reminders of her time with Azriel on full display. It was like a mockery, a taunt, a reminder of the closeness between them.

Mor clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking, her irritation growing with every passing moment. She had to focus, to keep herself composed, even as the sight of Cate's body, marked and dishevelled, sent a shameful thrill of something through her.

She could feel Feyre's gaze on her, watching her reaction to the female like a hawk. Mor forced her face to remain impassive, refusing to give anything away. She couldn't let herself be distracted by her own complicated feelings towards the female, or the things she knew - and didn't know - that Cate and Azriel had done together.

But it was hard, so damn hard, when Cate was standing right there. Mor could almost feel the heat radiating off her, as if the female was trying to taunt her, to push her buttons.

And it was working. Mor could feel her own blood heating, her body responding to the sight of the female against her will. It took all her willpower to maintain her composure and keep a neutral expression on her face.

As if sensing her struggle, Cate let out a soft laugh, a sly smile playing on her lips. "You look like you're about to explode, Mor. Something wrong?" she teased, her voice low and almost sensual.

Mor gritted her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists tighter. She knew Cate was enjoying this, enjoying the effect she was having on her. It was almost infuriating, the way she could get under her skin with such ease.

But Mor refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. She forced herself to take a deep breath and look Cate straight in the eye. "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Just….fine."

Cate's smile widened, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, come on now, Mor. We both know that's not true." She took a slow, deliberate step towards her, closing the distance between them. "You're a terrible liar. Always have been."

Mor's heart thumped in her chest as Cate moved closer, her movements like a predator closing in on its prey. She could feel the heat radiating off the female's body, the scent of something rich and foreign filling her nostrils.

"Why are you even here?" Mor snapped.

Cate's smile turned amused. "Oh, I'm here for lunch, of course. Didn't you get the invite?"

Mor's irritation flared even further. The female always had such a nonchalant attitude, never taking anything seriously. It was infuriating.

"Don't play coy with me," she snapped. "We both know why you're really here."

Cate let out a low laugh, her eyes glittering. "Oh, do we now? And why's that?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Mor's irritation boiled over, her voice rising. "Azriel. You're here for him, aren't you?"

Cate arched an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. She looked around, eyes clearly moving around the room, carefully turning around her own axis. "Azriel is nowhere to be seen," she said drily.

"You know what I mean," Mor retorted, her voice sharp. "You're always after him, always pestering him.”

Cate let out another soft laugh, her eyes glimmering with something dangerous. "Oh, Morrigan. Always so protective. And jealous."

Mor's lips curled at the word. "'I am not jealous," she bit out.

Cate stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"No? Then why do you look like you want to rip my throat out right now? Were it the bite marks that pushed you over the edge? You don't like the visible evidence that Azriel enjoys everything we do? If you wanted him for yourself, Morrigan, you could have," Cate said with a shrug. "He would have never refused you. By the cauldron, he spent centuries yearning for you, only for you to strangle him with his feelings at every opportunity."

Mor felt like she had just been punched in the gut. Cate's words cut right through her. Of course, she knew about Azriel's feelings for her, his unwavering devotion. And of course, she knew she had been nothing but a coward.

But hearing it thrown in her face like this, hearing Cate say it so nonchalantly, was like pouring salt on an open wound.

And the worst part was that Cate was right. Azriel had waited for her for centuries, only for her to push him away at every turn. Mor had known all this, had carried the weight of her cowardice for so long. And hearing Cate speak it out loud, in that nonchalant, almost taunting tone, made her feel like a fool.

But she refused to show weakness. Not in front of Cate.

She set her jaw, meeting Cate's gaze with a defiant glare.

"Don't pretend like you actually care about Azriel," she snapped. "You just use him. You use everyone."

"Oh that's rich, coming from you," Cate replied, her own expression hardening. "You've been using him for centuries, playing with his feelings like a cat toys with a mouse. Always just out of reach, just close enough to keep him coming back for more."

It was like a stinging slap. Mor felt the color drain from her face. Because Cate was right. She had been using Azriel for decades, using his feelings and devotion to keep him close, even though she knew she would never return those feelings.

Despite herself, her eyes stung with tears at the truth in the words. She had been lying to herself for so long, pretending to be the victim in all this. But Cate had laid out the reality, plain and simple, and Mor had never felt more exposed.

Mor tried to gather her wits, to come up with a snappy retort, but her mind was blank, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words

"For somebody that keeps insisting your power is truth, you can't seem to take it dished to you," Cate said darkly. "And for the record, I am only here because the High Lady thought that I may be able to help Elain. I'm a seer, just like her, remember?" she said, her voice sardonic. "And I might just have a bit more experience in dealing with my gift than Elain has. I have spent over a millennia in this world after all. It's possible I may be able to help her learn to control her power."

Despite herself, Mor's eyes widened slightly. It was a logical explanation, a valid reason for Cate's presence. But there was a part of her, a small, bitter part, that still couldn't accept it.

"And why would you help her?" she asked, her voice cold."What do you stand to gain from helping Elain?"

Cate's eyes gleamed with annoyance. "This may be hard to believe, but not everyone in the world is as self-absorbed as you," she taunted. "Maybe I'm just a nice person and I want to help another fellow Seer not drown in her visions and nightmares, hm? Did you ever consider that possibility?"

Mor gritted her teeth. She hated the way her heart lurched at Cate's biting words, the way they dug into her insecurities. "You don't exactly seem like the 'nice person' type," she shot back. "Forgive me for being suspicious."

"Your suspicions are noted, but you're wrong," Cate said with a shrug. "I don't do everything I do from some twisted motivation. I have feelings, you know. I'm not an emotionless monster."

Mor snorted, unable to hide her disbelief. "You could have fooled me," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Cate shot her a venomous glare. "You know, just because I'm not always wearing my heart on my sleeve doesn't mean I don't have feelings," she snapped. "Not everyone shows emotions in the same way you do, Morrigan."

Mor's stomach clenched as the words hit home. She knew that all too well. Just because she expressed her emotions outwardly, in words and actions, didn't mean everyone else did as well.

Still, she couldn't help but snark: "You don't show them at all most of the time."

"Maybe that's because I've learned to keep my feelings guarded, especially around people like you," Cate shot back, her voice sharp. "You have a habit of using people's emotions against them."

Mor's chest tightened. Cate was right again, and it stung. She had done it with Azriel time and time again, playing on his feelings for her, keeping him just close enough to keep him hoping for more. She hated herself for it, but she had done it anyway.

She couldn't stop the words from escaping her mouth. "And you don't?"

"Not like you," Cate retorted, her eyes narrowing. "| may flirt with everyone, but at least I'm upfront about it. I never promise more than I'm willing to give, and I don't play with people's hearts like you do."

"Can we go back to Elain now?" Nesta snapped.

Mor blinked, only just remembering that Nesta was in the room. She had been so focused on the back and forth with Cate that she had practically forgotten about the other females.

The sound of Nesta's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and back to reality. She looked over at the other female, who was looking less than amused.

"Gladly," Cate said with a roll of her eyes. "Where is she?"

"In the garden, I think," Mor said, her voice cracking slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "She says the sunshine helps."

Cate pushed off the wall, straightening her dress. "Well let's go, then," she said briskly. "The sooner we get to Elain, the sooner I can get out of here."

Mor gritted her teeth, her irritation flaring. "What's wrong, not enjoying yourself?" she sniped back.

"Oh, I'm having a wonderful time," Cate said drily, giving Mor a mocking smile. "Your sparkling personality just makes it all worthwhile."

Feyre bit out a laugh at that. Mor glared at her.

"The sunshine keeps the visions at bay," Feyre explained, growing serious as she led them down the garden path. "Is that…normal?"

Cate nodded. "Yes and no," she said, her attention focused on the path ahead. "It's normal for someone just coming into their power. The visions and images can be overwhelming, especially in a dark environment. But as a seer becomes more practised, they learn to control their power and it becomes less dependent on external factors like light or darkness."

"Elain?" Nesta called out to her sister, who was digging by the roses. Elain was lovely as always, a Sunhat on her head. "There is somebody we want you to meet."

Elain turned, her expression polite and open. She looked at the group of them, her gaze lingering on Cate.

Her gaze shuttered.

"Oh no," Feyre breathed.

Elain was having one of her visions.

The words spilt from Elain's lips, her voice low and strained, as though it took great effort to speak them.

"One who was Death must become Undying, for the thread of their souls are twined through the ages. They shall fight side by side in battle, their fates intermingled."

"Interesting," Cate murmured.

Mor felt her heart rate speed up at the words. Even without knowing their meaning, they sent a shiver down her spine. Death becomes Undying. It sounded...ominous.

But Cate seemed unaffected, casually intrigued.

"Is that always how they are?" Cate asked, as Elain's gaze cleared.

Feyre looked at her sister, concern written all over her face. Her voice was low as she said, "Yes. They're always like that. Vague and mysterious."

Elain blinked, her gaze slowly regaining focus. She seemed dazed, disoriented

"What did you see, Elain?" Feyre asked gently.

Elain shook her head as though trying to clear away the fog. "I don't...I'm not sure," she said weakly.

Cate took a step forward, her gaze sharp on Elain. "Can you tell me what you do remember?" she asked, her voice soft yet firm.

Elain frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall.

"Not much," she admitted. "There were….shadows," she said slowly. "And a field of corpses."

Mor's heart dropped at the words. Shadows and corpses...it sounded like a battlefield.

Cate pulled out a crystal ball out of her pocket, not any bigger than a fist. Mor watched as Cate held the crystal ball up, the sunlight refracted off its surface and casting little rainbows over the ground.

"What are you doing?" Feyre asked, her voice wary.

"It's easier for a Seer if they have a...focus of sorts," Cate said simply, holding it out for Elain. Elain regarded the crystal ball with a mixture of caution and curiosity. She slowly reached out and took it.

Nothing happened.

"Just like I thought," Cate said drily. "You aren't a seer. You are an oracle."

"What's the difference?" Nesta asked, unable to keep the sharpness out of her voice.

"A seer has the ability to control their power to some degree," Cate explained, her gaze still fixed on Elain. "They are able to see into the future...and if you have a guide, a focus like a crystal ball, a seer can flip through all the different possibilities."

"An oracle, on the other hand..it's a power given by the mother herself. They see what the mother wills and when. They have no control what they see, no way of interpreting them. It just comes to them in flashes, with no context or explanation."

Mor's eyes widened as she listened to Cate's words. An oracle? That didn't sound...good.

Oracles, like Cate said, had no control over their powers. They never knew what they would see or when. It sounded like a living nightmare.

And poor Elain...she had no idea what had just been dropped on her lap.

The crystal ball exploded in Elain's hand.

It happened so fast, that Mor didn't even have a chance to react. One moment, Elain was holding the crystal ball, the next it shattered in an explosion of sparkling pieces.

Feyre squeaked, Mor froze..it was a wave of Cate's magic that enveloped Elain, that kept her safe as the crystal ball shattered in her hand.

As the shards of the crystal ball rained down, Cate's magic enveloped Elain like a shimmering shield. The pieces bounced harmlessly against it, falling uselessly to the ground.

There was a breathless moment of silence, as everyone stood frozen, processing what had just happened

Mor knew that this was just a small taste of Cate's vast magical reservoir...a small stream coming from an ocean.

Mor watched as the magic around Elain slowly faded, disappearing like steam on a window.

Cate's expression was unbothered, her voice steady as she said, "As I said. An oracle."

"So I have no control?" Elain asked, her voice small. "'Il always be at the mercy of these...these visions?"

Cate's expression softened, her voice gentle as she replied. "In a way, yes. The visions will come to you, whether you want them to or not. But with proper guidance...it doesn't have to be overwhelming. I can teach you how to deal with the power, to not let it consume you."

Elain looked at Cate, a spark of hope in her eyes. "You can?" she asked, her voice tremulous.

Cate gave a small nod. "Yes," she said. "It won't be easy, and it will take time and practice. But I can help you learn to control the power, rather than letting the power control you."

Mor watched the exchange, her heart thudding in her chest. Cate's words sparked a flicker of hope within her, a hope that perhaps Elain might not be cursed to live a life of constant visions.

But at the same time, she couldn't shake the feeling that having Cate around for extended periods of time would be... troublesome, to put it mildly.

Cate's presence in Velaris would undoubtedly stir up many emotions, especially among the Inner Circle members. And the thought of having to deal with her witty remarks and sarcastic comments on a daily basis was enough to make Mor's headache worsen.

"Out of pure interest, who told you she was a Seer?" Cate wondered

"Azriel did," Elain answered softly. "I thought I was going insane."

Cate's gaze sharpened, her lips curving into a small smirk. "Oh, Azriel did, huh? Seems like | will need to give Azriel a primer in magical abilities once more."

Mor's eyebrows rose at Cate's tone. It was almost….playful. And the thought of her playfully mocking Azriel, poking at the shadowsinger to rile him up was...

"You know him?" Elain wondered, her gaze suddenly starting to take in the bite marks all over her neck and shoulder. Mor watched her swallow as she took that in.

Cate chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, very well," she said, her voice laced with mirth. "We've been...acquainted for quite some time now. I do understand how he came up with it, he has seen me have visions more than once. But he's never been good with understanding the nuances of power," Cate added, her voice dropping into a mocking octave as she imitated Azriel's deep voice. "Sees the shadows, misses everything else."

Mor found herself smirking, unable to help herself. The idea of Cate being able to get under Azriel's skin so effortlessly, to tease him so effortlessly...it was almost endearing, in a twisted way.

There was something about Cate, in that moment, that was so very...genuine. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curved up in a small smirk. She was utterly unguarded, with no hint of pretence or artifice in her

Mor cursed herself internally, annoyed at how quickly she had been distracted by the other female. She despised Cate, and yet...there was something about her presence, her behaviour, that was captivating.

Mor forced herself to focus, to steer her thoughts in a different direction. She couldn't afford to let herself be distracted by Cate's mercurial nature, not now. There were more important matters to attend to, like the fact that Elain was an oracle.

She looked over at Elain, who still looked worried and overwhelmed by the revelation. She felt a pang of sympathy for the young fae. To suddenly have this power thrust upon her, to be told that she would have no control over it...it had to be a terrifying prospect.

"You are in good hands now," Cate promised Elain easily. "We'll get a handle on it...'ll find you some books to read."

There was a hint of softness in her tone, a flicker of concern in her gaze. It was a side of Cate that Mor hadn't seen before, one that contrasted sharply with her usual sarcastic and standoffish nature.

Elain smiled weakly, her shoulders slumping in relief.

“Thank you," she said softly.

Cate gave a small nod, her expression gentling. "Of course," she said, her voice gruff yet sincere.

Mor felt a pang of irritation as Cate's gaze landed on her, her expression shuttering back into its usual cold mask.

She swallowed back a biting response, not in the mood to start another argument.

But even as she forced herself to remain quiet, Mor couldn't help but feel a spark of defiance. She would not let Cate get the better of her.

Cate's gaze bore into hers, a silent challenge passing between them. Mor met it head-on, refusing to look away. Neither of them spoke, the air around them thick with tension and suppressed energy.

Finally, Cate's lips quirked up in a small smirk, as though amused by the tension she had caused. “You know,” she drawled. “If you keep staring at me, Morrigan, people might think you like me.”

Mor’s eyes narrowed, her irritation flaring. “And if you keep opening your mouth, people might think you’re intelligent,” she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.”

Cate's smirk grew, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on. Don't pretend you don't enjoy our little verbal spars. It's the highlight of your day, I'm sure."

"The highlight of my day is when you're not in my presence," Mor snapped, her temper fraying. "Believe me, I could go without seeing your face...or the evidence of your animalistic couplings."

"Ouch," Cate said, feigning a wince. "That one stung. I didn't realise you were so jealous of my...activities. By the way, mostly it's Azriel telling me how perfect I am," Cate shot back easily. Elain looked like she would rather be anywhere else, while Nesta bit back a laugh.

Mor's jaw dropped, her mind struggling to process what she'd just heard. Cate, with the arrogance and audacity to claim that people... that Azriel found her 'perfect'. It was utterly ridiculous.

But as she stared at Cate, seeing the cool, almost amused expression on the other woman's face...she couldn't help but wonder if it was true.

"If you hurt him..." she whispered, threatening...for one moment Cate's aura blew wide open. Green magic sparked at the very tips of her fingers.

Mor's heart seized in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as Cate's magic burst free. It crackled in the air, a low hum that sent a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, Cate's expression dropped completely, replaced by something dark and dangerous. Her eyes glowed almost unnaturally, and her magic swirled around her like a living thing.

But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Cate's expression smoothed back into its usual cool indifference, and her magic retracted back into her skin.

"Don't forget who spent 500 years hurting him," Cate said quietly. "It wasn't me, Morrigan."

Mor's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to snap back, to deny Cate's words, out she knew there was no point.

Cate was right. Mor had hurt Azriel. Deeply, irreparably.

And there was no way she could deny it.

"Do not threaten me for something you have done," Cate said quietly. "I have never laid a hand on Azriel in any way that he didn't want me to."

Mor swallowed hard, her heart thudding in her chest.

Cate's words struck her to her very core.

She knew it was true. Cate had shown Azriel more kindness, more compassion than she had in centuries.

And yet, a part of her couldn't help but feel resentful.

Resentful at the way Cate had so easily inserted herself into Azriel's life, replacing Mor in a way she hadn't been able to.

"I'll send you that book list," Cate said calmly.

Mor nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. Her throat felt tight, her body tense from the onslaught of emotions she had experienced in the last few minutes.

She watched as Cate gave Elain a reassuring pat on the arm, her gaze flicking briefly to Mor before she turned to leave.

And in that moment, as Cate walked away, Mor was struck by a sudden wave of realisation. Cate was not simply a friend, or a sexual partner, or a convenient outlet for Azriel's anger and tension.

No...there was something more between them. Something that Mor had failed to see in all her years of knowing Azriel. Something that was now glaringly obvious in the other woman's presence.

And it scared her. It scared Mor more than any battle, any enemy, ever had.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #my writing #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #The Witching Hour

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