#i feel like i had more thoughts on this but they disappeared while i was writing the reply

[c0ffeejelly1]

Manhandling him

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: UGH pls this whole things was for jokes bc I can’t really be that ask to make something I feel is good. Teehee. Also I can mischaracterise all I want okay let a girl dream pls. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: man it’s like the smallest hint of the nasty freaky stuff

“Babe, you got something on your face. Let me just…” You reach out to your boyfriend, making him look your way by gripping his chin firmly while you flick away a bit of ‘glitter’ from his cheek. “There you go.”

Strike one.

That was just the beginning of your strange behavior today.

“Hey baby, c’mere I wanna kiss…” you call him over from the other side of the kitchen counter, only to yank on his collar and pull him in for one hell of a snog. “Seriously, you have no business looking this good today.”

Strike two.

Just what was up with you today?

You just got home from work, and as he’s about to sit up to see you, you suddenly push him back down onto the couch, mumbling something about how much you “missed him”.

Strike three.

You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your lips, but then you pause to check out his face.

Perhaps you took this prank too far…

The type to be oddly into it

“…are you hard?”

This snaps your boyfriend out of his thoughts.

He’d never ever ever thought he could find himself in a situation like this. this is the kind of stuff you see in movies, right? I mean, come on!

Just picture how mortifying it is to be turned on from someone mistreating you! It’s pathetic!

He can’t just blurt out, ‘oh hell yeah I’m hard’ in response to that question—why would anyone even think to ask that? What can a guy do in a moment like this except deny it?

“What? N-no!…” He glances away, feeling the weight of your intense gaze. “…maybe?”

When you raise an eyebrow at him, his mask crumbles entirely. There’s no use in pretending.

You’ve already seen right through him, leaving him no option but to retreat into a shadowy corner and disappear.

“Yeah.” He responds, his voice tinged with disappointment. “I…I am.”

Maybe it’s because of the way you handled him like he was nothing that made him so bothered.

Maybe it was the way you looked so desperate to have him that did it for him.

Either way, he’s discovered something about himself he never knew he ever had.

And make no mistake, you were going to exploit this discovery to the fullest.

“Have I told you how much I love you babe?” You pull back from his face after practically devouring it as he stands there, grinning like a lovesick fool, dishes still in hand.

“I think you should tell me more.”

“Wrap up with those dishes, and I’ll give you a demonstration instead.”

Be ready for one hell of a night cowgirl. Wink wink

Charcters: serizawa, armin, EREN, REINER, ukai, ATSUMU, Osamu, Gojo, CHOSO, leviathan, SATAN, DIAVOLO, IIDA, denki, tamaki, CHILDE, Cyno, sanji, LAW

The type to think you’ve finally gone crazy

you call out to him, noticing he seems lost in his phone. Yet, oddly enough, he flinches slightly every time you speak.

This reaction occurs whenever you draw near him, as if your voice startles him, even when you're just a breath away. It’s not that he dislikes your voice; rather, it feels like he’s a bit intimidated by you now.

What happened to the confident guy who was with you just two days ago? Why does he seem to be tiptoeing around you like a child with a fragile toy?

“Y/N…is everything alright?” He approaches you cautiously, maintaining a bit of distance, trying to balance his interest with a hint of hesitation. “You’ve been…um, I just wanted to check—are you upset with me?”

“Upset with you?” You set your phone aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be upset? Did you do something wrong?”

That’s the very question he’s grappling with. Your passionate touches and fervent kisses have left him bewildered about your feelings.

Are you so enamored that you can’t help yourself, or are you retaliating for something he might have done? Suddenly, a thought strikes him.

“…If this is about how intense things got last night, I’m sorry, but you did ask for it when I warned you I wouldn’t hold back—” His words are cut short as your hand swiftly covers his mouth.

“No! No that’s—just no. It was a prank babe, a trend I saw online” you say, removing your hand and placing both on his shoulders. “Last night has nothing to do with today or any other day.”

“Not even you complaining about being sore?”

“Not even me complaining about…wait I never did that!”

“Yeah buts it’s easy to tell.”

Charcters: REIGEN, giyuu, giyomei, JEAN, KAGEYAMA, hinata, kuroo, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, geto, NANAMI, Solomon, IZUKU, Diluc, LAIOS, zayne, LAW (Sowy I can see him as both)

The type to also manhandle you

Did you honestly believe you could manhandle him without facing the same treatment in return? Come on this is your boyfriend we’re talking about, In fact, I think he’s thrilled that you can boss him around so effortlessly.

So thrilled that he makes it into a competition

“Okay let’s see who tackles the first person on the bed.” His eyes shine with enthusiasm as he confidently places his hands on his hips. “If I win I get to have my way with you, and if you win, you get to have me have my way with you. Deal?”

You pause for a moment to process his words “…uh, how is that fair?”

“What do you mean?” he replies, brushing off your concern with a grin.

“I think it’s perfectly fair. No matter the outcome, you get a nice little reward, right?” His voice dances with mischief as he nudges you playfully with his elbow, clearly trying to elicit a reaction.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, before relenting, “I guess it’s not so bad..”

“Exactly! Now, I’m going to count down. Ready? 3…2…” Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, he lunges at you, tackling you onto the bed before he even reaches 1.

“H-hey! That’s cheating, you can’t do that!” But your protests are ignored, your boyfriend already having you wrapped in his warm embrace, his face buried against your neck.

“This is what you get for how you’ve been treating me today.”

“What are you talking about?” You pause for a moment, though you suspect he’s finally caught on to your little scheme. “You mean me kissing you like any normal woman would with the love of her life?”

“No. Just you touching me all weirdly…”

“Don’t say it like that you make me sound like a perv.”

“Maybe cause you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m not.”

Charcters: RENGOKU, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, hinata (yes again), kuroo (YESSS AGAIN), BOKUTO, TENDOU, MAMMON, DENKI (twice and what), kirishima, ITTO, rafayel, LUFFY

The type…yeah you ain’t doing that

Screw everything I just said in the intro. If you genuinely think you can manhandle this man and succeed. You’re crazy.

“Hey, come here, you’ve got something—” The moment your hand nears his face, he seizes your wrist, staring at you as if you’ve just committed a serious offense.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m trying to like get the little speck of glitter off your face.”

“We don’t own glitter?”

“Dust then?” He shoots you a skeptical glance.

“…sure.”

So that was an absolute fail…

But you’re not ready to throw in the towel just yet. No way! You just need to bide your time until nightfall, when he’s all soft and cuddly. That’s when you’ll make your move.

As the evening unfolds and you’re prepping for bed in the bathroom, you catch sight of him reaching for something in the cupboard above you. This is your moment. The time to pull him in close and—

SMACK

“The hell? What was that for?” He rubs his forehead, clearly taken aback by your sudden move.

Who knew kissing your boyfriend could be this complicated? Somehow, you ended up colliding headfirst into him, and now he’s clearly fed up with you.

“That wasn’t how it was supposed to go…” you say with a shy smile, nervously scratching the back of your head. “You alright?”

You gently move his hand away from his forehead to check for any damage, and to your surprise, he lets you.

Wait a minute… you actually moved his hand, and he’s okay with it? Is this manhandling? I think it’s manhandling. It’s manhandling.

“…I did it.”

“Did what?”

“I touched you!”

“??”

Pls stop confusing this man he’s already tired enough.

Charcters: dimple, akashi, MIDORIMA, aomine, sanemi, KAGEYAMA (yes again), TSUKISHIMA, iwaizumi, TOJI, LUCIFER, bakugou, AIZAWA, sylus, ZORO,

[greengoblinswifey]

Valentine’s Plans

Rafe had been patient. Too patient. He knew exactly why you’d been acting like this, short replies, annoyed sighs, that little scoff whenever he so much as touched you. Valentine’s Day was in a few days, and he hadn’t asked you to be his Valentine yet.

He had a plan. A good one. But you didn’t know that.

So when he walked past the other Kooks and overheard you saying, “He’s such a pussy. I swear, if he doesn’t ask me, I’m done.”—Rafe saw red.

He bit his tongue, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wanted to call you out right then and there, but he wouldn’t. He’d make sure you felt stupid for ever doubting him.

Dinner was at the nicest restaurant on the island. Private booth, dim lighting, a box waiting on the table before you even sat down. A Vivienne Westwood necklace, because he knew you liked that shit. The cake came out after, white frosting with Be My Valentine? scrawled in red.

Rafe leaned back, watching you take it all in. Now he could be smug.

“Still think I’m a pussy?” he asked.

Your face burned, but you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, nudging the box toward you. “Say yes, or I’m taking that back.”

You huffed but reached for the necklace, letting your fingers run over the silver chain. “Obviously, yes.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. “Good girl.”

You thought everything was fine until you got home.

The second you stepped inside, Rafe kicked the door shut behind you, gripping your jaw to tilt your face up.

“Gonna talk shit about me to my friends again?” he murmured, voice low.

You swallowed, pulse spiking. “Rafe—”

He smirked. “No, go ahead. Tell me more about how I’m a pussy.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

That night, you learned never to doubt Rafe Cameron. He made sure of it.

You were beneath him, writhing, your body burning under his touch as his thick cock fucked you deeper into the sheets. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and taunting.

“What was it you said?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw, making you shiver. “I’m a pussy, huh?”

You whimpered, your fingers twisting in the fabric beneath you as you felt him pound into your sweet spot. “Rafe—”

His teeth scraped against your skin as he chuckled darkly. “No, no, sweetheart. Say it again.”

You shook your head, your body arching against him. “I didn’t mean it.”

He tsked, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you roughly onto his cock. “Didn’t mean it?” His voice was mocking, teasing. “You sounded pretty fucking sure earlier.”

You whimpered as rolled his hips to meet yours, his hands gripping your body like he owned it. He did.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. His lips brushed your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You talk a lot of shit, but look at you now—squirming, whining, completely at my mercy.”

You gasped, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he fucked you even harder.

He smirked against your skin. “Bet you won’t doubt me again, huh?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbone. “Now, let this be a reminder of who you belong to.”

A hand remained on your hip, gripping you while another went into your hair, pulling your head down to watch as his cock disappeared inside you. He wasn’t going easy, he was fucking the doubt right out of you.

“You wanna fucking doubt me? Huh? Call me a pussy? You can’t even fucking talk. Fucked you dumb, who’s the pussy now?”

You cried out in pain and pleasure, his thrusts unrelenting and hard.

For a moment you thought the lesson was over but you thought wrong. He flipped you onto your stomach, slapping your ass making you wince and pulling it up to him.

He wasted no time burying himself to the hilt inside your wet pussy, the new position making him feel like he was deeper. You cried out, reaching around to put your hand on his chest but he just grabbed it.

He chuckled darkly, pinning your hand behind your back. “Take this fucking dick, you’re gonna learn your fucking lesson tonight.”

He fucked you like he hated you, cock dragging along your walls, stretching you so much you thought he would tear you apart. You could feel him so deep, the tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. All you could do was bury your face into the sheets and moan, unable to form a single coherent word or thought.

“This is exactly how you should be all the time. Fucked out and keeping your mouth fucking shut,” he growled.

He grabbed you by the neck so you were arching off him.

“Do what I say for once and rub that clit so you can cum on my dick. You don’t fucking deserve it but I’m such a good boyfriend, I’ll let you cum.”

Your body jolted in his arms as you rubbed your clit and he gripped your neck even tighter. “Fuck, cum on my cock. Cum on my cock so I can fill this ungrateful pussy up.”

With a loud cry, your body went limp in his arms. Your walls clamped around him, squirting on his dick and your orgasm triggered his own. He moaned in your ear, his load filling you to the brim and your pussy milking him of every drop.

“Good fucking girl. Now you’ll know never to doubt me or call me a fucking pussy again.”

[salemrph]

Sleepy morning with Sylus

A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min

Background music

Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.

You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.

Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.

He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.

"Sylus—"  you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.

"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"

He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.

"Then pee..."  he teases. 

"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.

"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.

"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.

"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back". 

You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.

"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.

"I like how it wiggles"

You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.

"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"

"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.

"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.

With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.

You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.

His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.

When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.

One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.

Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.

That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.

[will-0-w]

Sticky Situation

Summary: After your relationship with Sylus has reached a more shared bond, he allows you to visit him anytime in the N109 Zone, even giving you a spare key to his home. So what happens when you turn up unexpectedly after his mission had gone slightly against his favours and an aphrodisiac was slipped into his drink? One night will change it all between you two.

Warnings: smut! 18+ mdni, male masturbation, unprotected pinv, desperate and needy Sylus, aphrodisiacs, pet names, he is lowkey feral, face sitting, riding, lowkey this whole thing feels like word vomit, word count: 1.6k, not proof read

author’s note: apologies for the super late post on this fic, motivation has been down the drain lately and i wrote this while half awake :’) but i hope you lovelies enjoy<3

Sylus was at yet, another boring weapons auction but this time he had decided to go alone on a mission to retrieve a pair of black market revolvers for his ever growing collection back home. The whole auction was smooth sailing from the moment he entered the place. What seemed like endless hours of conversations and mingling was only three hours. And also the point where it all began to go downhill for him.

That exact point was where Sylus had taken some time to check out the bar, nursing some bourbon. His guard was slightly down, a mistake he only realised later when an old time friend had approached him for a long overdue conversation. In fact his guard was lowered so much during that conversation, glass abandoned on the counter that he failed to notice the shady man slowly moving unto his location.

The man had left a respectable amount of distance between himself and Sylus, swiftly and discreetly pouring something into his drink and disappearing as quickly as he had previously arrived.

Which is how he had ended up stumbling through his bedroom door an hour later, his skin on fire, flushed and warm. His dark, crimson eyes glowing more intensely than usual, pupils dilated. Sylus fumbled with his tie, grasping at it, pulling at it until it finally came off. The first few buttons undone on his shirt as he collapsed onto the silk sheets of the large bed. A primal need for release was rooted into his veins and he cursed himself for being so careless at the auction.

Sylus’s breathing was heavy and laboured with each intake of air he took, chest rising and falling rapidly. After a couple seconds of toying with his belt and zipper he managed to undo them and slip his trousers, along with his boxers down just enough to free his aching, hard cock. Pre cum already oozing down from his tip and down the pulsating length, trailing along a deliciously prominent vein.

Griping the base of his length with his large hand, the warmth from his palm felt like a heater against the skin. Slowly, he began to jerk himself, hand squeezing his cock-head every time his hand went up causing him to pant and groan shamelessly like some animal in heat, which is how he felt right now. With his head thrown back against the headboard, eyes squeezed tightly shut continuing his ministrations. His hips lifting occasionally to match the pace of his hand.

So lost in pleasure and failing to notice your presence standing by the doorway, Sylus let out more moans which bordered on pornographic. You were frozen on the spot, eyes drinking in the sight of him. The room suddenly felt so hot and your throat was as dry as a desert, heat started in pool in your lower belly and you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together. A soft plea of your name fell from his lips, so tantalising and sinful making the apples of your cheeks warm up and flush a soft pink.

As if right on cue, Sylus’s gaze fell upon you and everything in his brain was screaming at him to half his actions but nothing could bring him to stop. Sure, your unexpected drop in was a surprise but the raw and primal need coursing through his entire being was consuming every moral thought. His mind was fuzzy, a complete blur and then—there was you. Looking like a deer caught in headlights and he thought how cute you looked, so flushed, fiddling with your hands, trying to avert his hot gaze.

“Kitten, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” He all but purred that sentence causing you to stutter slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Luke and Kieran had informed me that you were at an auction today.” That simple statement earned a soft hum followed by a nod from Sylus. “So you thought you could just drop by? Perhaps snoop through my things?” He was teasing you, obviously enjoying the reactions that he could get out of you.

Before you could even reply Sylus had risen from the bed and swiftly made his way over to you, moving like a panther stalking its prey. Once in front of you, you could now very clearly see that his breathing was heavy and laboured, skin flushed and emanating warmth. “Well anyways how did the auction go?”

“Swimmingly.” He all but scoffed, red eyes piercing into your very soul. As you reached a hand to inspect his forehead Sylus flinched slightly and let out a soft hiss. “Are you ill? Did you catch something while you were gone?” The concern was evident in your tone, expression softening .

“Does it look like I’m ill, sweetie?” Sylus still managed to keep up his smug facade even while going through the effects of the aphrodisiac. “Well you just look—“

Your words were cut short as he leaned forward, caging you in against the now closed door of the bedroom. It was like something snapped within him as your perfume filled his nose, the scent so intoxicating and strong. “mm, your scent..i want it, i want you..” Sylus nuzzled his face into the softness of your neck.

‘He’s clearly lost it.’ You thought to yourself, begrudgingly.

“We should get you to bed, you need to sleep this off.” You mumbled against his ear as his warm breath fanned against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“No.” Was the response that immediately followed.

Sylus' hands found yours, pinning them up against the wall on either side of your head. He pressed down against you, his body moulding against yours. You could feel the hard lines and unyielding planes of his lean physique, the heat of his skin against yours setting your body aflame. "I don't want to sleep," he whispered into your ear, his voice a ragged murmur. Trying to talk some sense into him was practically impossible at this moment, his mind clouded with only the thoughts of your body against his.

That’s how you both ended up on his bed in a tangle of limbs, clawing off each other’s clothes desperately. Lips attached with one another in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. Easily gripping your hips, fingers digging eagerly into your skin as Sylus manoeuvred you onto his lap above his aching member, begging to be buried inside your warm walls.

As the kiss broke a single strand of saliva that connected your mouths was enough evidence of the atmosphere and tension between the both of you. As you straddled his lap, hovering just above the leaking tip you slowly eased yourself down his impressively large length, greedy pussy sucking him in just begging for more.

A soft, breathy andbarely audible “fuuuckk” fell from his soft, plump lips. His head falling back against the headboard as you settled comfortably down on his lap, his cock snuggly buried inside your wet cunt. You stayed like that for a few moments, hands resting against his broad shoulders. The way he looked at you almost made you shy away, Sylus’s gaze was full of desire and need, the need for you to start moving as he was slowly loosing sanity.

The moment your hips started to move, rising and falling again and again was the moment Sylus finally lost himself. Down right pornographic moans spilling from his mouth with absolutely no shame whatsoever. Large hands roaming your body as he reached the mounds of your breasts, giving them a firm squeeze and occasionally pinching the hardened buds causing a few mewls of your own to slip out.

As you continued bouncing on his cock, Sylus felt like he was on cloud nine. Leaning forward he captured one of your nipples in his mouth, warm and wet. Tongue circling, teeth scraping against the sensitive bud which encouraged you to move faster, to chase that high you both so dearly ached for. With a couple more sloppy movements and occasional jerky snaps of Sylus’s hips, you felt the impending waves of your orgasm crash over you, eyes rolling back and mouth falling into an ‘O’ shape as you came down. The feel of your juices gushing and coating his length was enough for Sylus to also let go, warm ropes of his sticky cum shooting up into your pussy.

The effects of the aphrodisiac had seemed to lessen but Sylus wasn’t fully satisfied yet. And just as you were about to collapse against his solid, comforting chest Sylus had other plans in mind and swiftly lifted you off of his softening cock, pulling you up near his face as he laid back. “Sylus.. what are you doing? I’m still—“

“I know sweetie, but just let me clean you up, yeah?” Seeming as you didn’t protest any further he managed to make you hover above his face, your pussy all on display for him.

“Wait Sylus are you sure that—“ You moaned softly as your pussy made contact with his tongue, hands reaching down to tangle in his silky strands of hair. His tongue was merciless as it lapped up your shared release, the taste of himself filled his mouth causing a soft groan sending small vibrations to your core.

You were so overstimulated and felt another wave of release crashing over you, releasing that sweet nectar for Sylus to greedily lap up, not daring to waste a drop. With a final suck, he let you collapse next to him on the sheets. Your body was so sore and tired as you curled up against him.

As gently and softly as he could, Sylus brought the covers up to shield both your bodies, wrapping his strong arms in a protective embrace. Slumber taking over your minds.

taglist: @whimsiecat @luxmere @madam8 @fava-boi @sylus-crow @ikesimpleton @coldhologramcrown @holdmyravioli @babygirl-panda19 @mianeryh @sinsodom @caramelizedpopcirn @ineffableperception @amywright @chillycheem @lowkeyabby2229 @goddexxluv @alyyylog @depressedbearblogs @for-hearthand-home

unfortunately it wouldn’t let me tag some of you, so apologies for that!

[pomegranatelifethis]

Porcelain Doll

**English is not my native language**

WARNING: THERE IS RAPE, I MARKED THAT, YOU CAN GO WITHOUT READING. DISTURBING ELEMENTS

(A Neglected!Reader x Batfam Story)

In the beginning, Wayne Manor echoed with her laughter. He was someone who filled every room he entered with his light. He made little jokes, tried to make everyone laugh with his cheerful laughter, and said good morning to everyone one by one every morning.

He enjoyed sneaking sugar into Tim's coffee and watching the surprised expression on his face. He would applaud Dick's cool moves while training, and try to provoke Jason by arguing about the books he was reading. Despite Damian's harsh demeanor, she would try to break through the wall between them and talk about things that would interest him—Titus or cats, for example.

As for Bruce... He would always look for an opportunity to call him "Dad", but every time the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he would sit quietly next to her, sometimes bringing her coffee with a small smile.

But nothing found a response.

At first he tried not to notice. "Maybe they're too busy," he thought. After all, they were all heroes. They lived in a city like Gotham and had responsibilities. So he decided to show himself more and make more effort.

But over time, everything became more and more obvious.

Every "I'm busy now" turned into an endless silence over time.

Every "we'll talk later" became promises that never happened again.

At one point, Dick stopped hearing his voice. Jason stopped laughing at his jokes. Even though Tim was exhausted before his eyes, he didn't even ask him once, "Are you okay?" he didn't ask. Damian didn't even seem to tolerate his presence.

But what hurt the most was Bruce.

When he tried to hug her, Bruce would just shake his head slightly and walk past her. Even when there was a problem, he always consulted others instead of listening to her thoughts. At some point, he just started to feel like a part of the wall—a shadow that existed but went unnoticed.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he laughed, no matter how much he talked... When he realized that it didn't make a difference to them, the light inside him began to fade.

And then, tragedy struck.

No one knew exactly what happened that night. Maybe he had an argument with someone, maybe he was in the middle of a fight. Maybe they didn't even realize someone had hurt him.

But as he left the house that night, the last spark of hope that still burned within him flickered and went out like a candle flame.

When he came back in the morning, he was still the same person—but also completely different.

After that moment, their conversations decreased. Their smiles disappeared.

When Tim looked at him for hours, he no longer made the same fun comments. When Jason made a joke, he didn't even react. No matter how hard Dick tried, he couldn't make him laugh. Even when Damian got angry, he didn't look up.

And Bruce… Even when he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

His eyes were empty, his soul seemed to be lost in a void. It was as if there were no emotions left inside him.

She was just a porcelain doll now. Cold, silent and numb.

And you know what was the worst?

No one remembered when it broke

Porcelain Doll

November 11 – The Day It Broke

Everything started out ordinary that day.

He woke up early in the morning and helped Alfred, who was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. At that moment, he heard Damian and Tim arguing in the living room and noticed Jason tinkering with his motorcycle in the garage. Bruce was in his study, studying the reports, his eyes narrowed with fatigue.

He tried to approach everyone, as always, preserving the endless energy and joy within him.

He interrupted Damian and Tim's argument, maybe if he made a joke the atmosphere would soften. But Damian glared at him.

“There is no place for unnecessary people here.”

These words hit him like a sharp knife, and for a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. The smile that fell on his face faded, but he tried to recover. He had hoped Tim would at least defend him, but Tim just sighed and continued talking.

He didn't say anything. He felt like there was something extra there, but he still remained silent.

When he met Dick in the kitchen, he put a big smile on his face.

“Dick! Shall we do something today?”

But Dick's answer was just a smile. “Then, okay?”

When?

Later. Always later.

Everyone had a job. Everyone had a priority.

And he was never among those priorities.

But what hurt him the most was Bruce.

When evening came, he went to her study. Maybe he could at least talk to her for a few minutes. When he knocked on the door, Bruce's voice was heard from inside.

“I'm busy.”

He swallowed. But he didn't give up.

“Dad… Can we just talk for a minute? It won't take long, I promise.”

Silence.

Then he heard his chair creak slightly. Bruce's cold voice echoed again:

“I'm really busy right now. Please come back later.”

Later.

Again?

He walked away, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

That night, no one at the mansion noticed him leaving quietly.

No one knew he was walking alone through the dark streets of Gotham.

No one knew that he felt that it made no difference whether he existed or not in this world that no longer meant anything to him.

And no one found out what happened to him. But you will learn, let's find out what happened

That night, when he left the mansion, no one noticed anything. He silently closed the door and lost his steps in the dark streets. When Gotham's night darkness combined with the feeling of loneliness, everything became even deeper. The weather was cold and the wind was harsh, but the emptiness inside was colder.

A void inside him felt like nothing made any sense anymore. No one looked at him, no one understood what he felt. In this darkness, he didn't have to prove anything to anyone.

The streets embraced him like the dark corners of Gotham. He walked slowly, his steps so light that he could not even hear himself. But then, that darkness came closer to him, deepening the emptiness within him.

Suddenly, there was something he noticed with his eyes—figures blending into the shadows. They moved so fast that he couldn't quite understand what was happening. He didn't want to face them even for a moment with his eyes. But it was too late.

Suddenly, he felt a cold touch on his back. He tried to turn back, but someone grabbed his arms hard. It was done so suddenly and harshly that he was thrown off before he even had a chance to do anything. His face hit the ground and his arms and legs curled up. Everything was blurred, he felt a cold, but painful warmth enveloping his body.

For a few minutes he tried to understand what was happening. The fear inside him only prevented him from hearing the voices. Hands continued to wrap around his body. Everything became blurry for a moment.

When the voices stopped, his joy, which once shone like the light within him, was replaced by deep silence. There was nothing left in his mind. The darkness that night was a breaking point.

He stepped aside, emotionally frozen, despite not being aware of his own body and his hands shaking. That night, he broke in a way that no one else saw anymore. And it would never be the same again.

Telling what happened that night would make every word knot in his mouth. It was a reflection of the break, the pain, the lost joy. But there was something, no longer felt—losing oneself, not belonging to anyone or anything. It all ended with the person he once knew.

And that night, among the cold walls on the west side, no one ever understood what happened to him.

Flashback – The Night It Broke

The streets were dark.

Gotham was always dangerous, but he didn't care at the moment. There was such a big void inside him… He couldn't even feel what was dangerous anymore. His feet dragged him unconsciously from one street to another.

He was cold. But this coldness had penetrated not only his body but also his soul.

At one point, he realized someone was calling out to him. At first he didn't care. But then the steps became heavier. His eyes blurred.

When someone grabbed his arm, he instinctively pulled back. But the streets were silent, there was no escape.

When the touches became harder, he realized that moment.

Something inside him was screaming. He was thinking about the voice that echoed in the Batcave a few hours ago. That short answer Bruce gave him, Damian's disdainful look...

They didn't even know he was here.

And they wouldn't know.

He resisted. But he was tired, very tired.

He felt the hardness of the cold wall on his back. His breathing became irregular. Words didn't come out of his mouth. A pair of hands, then another...

**Those who are uncomfortable with the detailed scene should not read it, maybe I will remove it from the scene**

Without wasting any time, he slid your panties down your legs and forced his big dick into your dry, unprepared hole. it hurt. . It hurt so bad. You screamed and beat him, you raised your hands and tried to beat him with pathetic tears in your eyes, but it didn't work. nothing happened. He was so strong, so big, so muscular, and so desperate that he couldn't give up his relentless and unstrategic attacks. When your screams dried up, big tears flowed from your face. When you gave up and surrendered to the intruder, snot was running down your face. and god listened. He made a few more rough, sloppy thrusts, pushing the tip of his leaking dick towards your cervix, and the man was whining on top of you - filling your pussy with an overwhelming amount of sticky cum.

**Scene ended**

At that moment, his mind fell silent.

Everything fell silent.

The Next Morning – Return Home

When he returned, the moonlight illuminated the garden of the mansion.

He was disheveled, but no one noticed. His hair was disheveled, but no one looked. His face was expressionless, but no one questioned it.

Nobody asked anything.

And he didn't say anything either.

He just went into the bathroom. The water should have been hot, but his skin was numb. It was dirty. He was in a mess. No matter how much he rubbed it, no matter how long he stayed under water, it wouldn't go away.

He knew.

But he still didn't come out of the bathroom for hours.

That day, the last remaining humanity within him broke.

And it didn't belong to anyone anymore. Not to the Batfamily, not to Bruce, not to himself.

[zevrra]

(more virgin!jayce bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him,,,,,,,)

virgin!jayce who’s so well endowed, he’s actively worried about hurting you. he’s never been this intimate before and even with your encouragement, the hesitation is still there. he did not want to hurt you…but no matter his worries— he’s just as excited as you are.

gripping the sheets with white knuckles as he settles between your thighs. you immediately hook your legs around his waist, forcing him to stay; no backing down now. the fat of his head swipes through your folds and jayce watches with a close eye as your slick pools over his tip. makes his mouth water at the sight and every worry he’s ever had melts away. he lines himself up, one more “are you sure?” slipping from his lips and with one more nod of agreement, jayce is slipping himself inside your wet cunt.

you moan, tensing up as you proceed to take just the head of his twitching cock inside and it damn near knocks the breath out of your lungs. he’s splitting you in half and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet. but above your moan, jayce is whining even louder than you are. his eyes are screwed shut tight while he focuses on not just fucking the entire length of his cock deep inside of you and cumming almost immediately. his breath grows ragged as he forces himself to slowly move forward once again. every whine and whimper that slips past his lips gets louder and louder the more his cock vanishes inside of you. and you both knew that if he had watched himself disappear inside your wet cunt he might have came right then and there. but not yet, he needed to hold himself back; no matter how fucking good you felt inside or how your pussy drooled all along his cock as he forces you to take more.

and when he finally bottoms out, HE’S a mess. drooling himself, whimpering at the tightness wrapped around him, can’t form a single coherent sentence to save his life. and he’s just sitting still inside of you, biting down on his bottom lip while sweat beads at his forehead. you’re on the verge of passing out from how fucking big he is, truly he fills every inch of your core to the fucking brim. reaches so deep you’re worried about him crushing your cervix and you can only imagine the tummy bulge he’s sure to be giving you. and if he moved just a little at this point, you’re sure that your orgasm would catch up to you very, very quickly— but then again he’s unmoving. clutching the sheets beneath you, again, to the point he could rip them if he wanted too.

“what’s wrong?”

jayce is quiet for a second, embarrassment flushing his cheeks red, before he turns his head off to the side. and in a quiet, whiney voice, he finally manages to tell you: “if i move…i’m going to cum.”

you almost laugh at his honesty but you hold your tongue; you weren’t in any better state than he was. “feels that good?”

jayce nods quickly, a high pitched whine echoing in confirmation as well. you can’t help but smile, feeling a little proud of yourself for turning the jayce talis, a man everyone wanted, into a tearful, whimpering mess. you squeeze your cunt around his throbbing cock, enjoying the pathetic whine he lets out, before telling him that: “jayce…want you to fuck me right now…i can’t take it anymore.”

and with his mind so far gone, he’s easily persuaded to finally move. every thought he’s ever had goes right out the window, vanishes like he himself does inside of you, as pleasure consumes him and nothing is stopping him from fucking you senseless.

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[sincerelybubbles]

"I love you" warnings: none, fluff, written forever ago and reread and edited to shreds ||||

The first time Spencer says, "I love you," it’s an accident.

It happens in your kitchen again, but this time it's quiet. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, and the soft hum of the refrigerator is the only sound between you. You're leaning against the counter, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes, while he stands a few feet away, watching you with that careful gaze of his, the one that makes you feel like he's analyzing you but not in a clinical way. No, Spencer looks at you like he’s memorizing every tiny detail, tucking it away in some secret place in his mind where he keeps things that matter most.

You’re mid-yawn when he says it, so casual you almost miss it.

"I love you," he murmurs as he passes you a cup of coffee, like it's just something that slips out when he isn’t thinking.

Your fingers nearly fumble around the handle, and your whole body goes still. Your stomach twists in on itself, because you've thought about this moment a thousand times. How it would feel to hear it, how it would sound in his voice. You just didn't expect it like this—so offhanded, so natural, so completely without fanfare.

Spencer doesn't realize what he’s done at first. He takes a sip of his own coffee, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and in an instant, you see it—the delayed reaction, the widening of his eyes, the way his throat bobs as he swallows too hard.

"Oh," he says, like he's just processed his own words, and the air in the room shifts. "I—" He swallows again. "That wasn't—I mean, it was, but—"

You bite your lip, unsure if you should help him out of his flustered state or let him dig his own grave for another second.

"You mean it?" you ask, voice small. You hate how insecure you sound, but it’s there, that creeping uncertainty that whispers: maybe he didn’t mean to say it at all.

Spencer's hands tighten around his mug. "Yes," he says, barely above a whisper. "I mean it. But I didn’t want to say it like that. I wanted it to be special."

Warmth unfurls in your chest, battling the self-doubt that always seems to lurk just beneath the surface. You set your mug down before you drop it and step closer, reaching up to touch his cheek. His skin is warm under your fingers, and you feel him exhale, long and slow, like he’s been holding his breath.

"It is special," you tell him. "Because it's you."

Spencer lets out a soft laugh, a little self-deprecating, shaking his head. "You deserve something more than an absentminded confession over coffee."

"Stop that," you scold gently. "You always act like you have to prove something to me. You don’t. Just being with you is enough. You are enough."

His eyes flicker with something deep—something you almost can’t bear to look at because it’s so raw. He nods, absorbing your words like he’s trying to believe them, and then, after a beat, he tilts his head.

"Do you…?" He trails off, hesitant, the Spencer who still second-guesses when it comes to emotional things.

You take a breath, feeling your pulse in your throat. The truth is, you've known for a while. Maybe since the moment he showed up at your work with lunch, or when he called just to make sure he hadn’t done something to mess things up. Maybe it was the first time he kissed you, or maybe it was even before that, in the little moments where he let himself be fully himself with you.

"I love you," you say, because it’s true, and because he deserves to hear it.

Spencer blinks at you like he can’t quite believe it, and then, before you can say anything else, he kisses you. It's not hurried or desperate. It’s slow and reverent, like he’s savoring the words on your lips. His hands come up to frame your face, gentle but firm, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. "I’ve never had this before," he admits, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. "I don’t always know what I’m doing."

You smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Neither do I. We’ll figure it out together."

He nods, closing his eyes for a moment, just breathing you in. And then he exhales a soft, "Okay."

It’s not a grand declaration, not fireworks or an earth-shattering moment. But it’s real. It’s steady. It’s love, spoken in small moments, in morning coffee, in nervous laughter, in the spaces between words. || you can consider this a continuation of "it's a date" if you squint.

[onebadassunicorn]

Love Lies

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: angst, talk of poisoning and potential death, smut (18+), some fluff

word count: 5.9k

Permanent taglist: @motheroffae @tele86 @demon-master-zero

Azriel permanent taglist: @kathren1sky-blog

Taglist @sinfully-yoursss @sillyfreakfanparty @phoenix666stuff @ quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @hellohauntedturnstudent @love-over-fears @kk191327 @i-am-infinite @historygeekqueen @yourdarkrose @fr0stfall @dnfhascorruptedme

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

********

Chapter 13

Elain sat rigid in her chair, her usually serene expression twisted into something raw—something close to fear.

Her delicate hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her breath uneven, eyes wide as they darted between you and Azriel.

But neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke just yet.

You simply stared at her, at the woman who had once been kind, once been a friend, once been someone you trusted—and now, was nothing more than a poisonous snake, a traitor who had carved a knife into your back and twisted it until you could barely breathe.

Azriel stood beside you, his golden eyes burning with fury, with disgust, with a level of loathing you had never seen in him before. His shadows curled and snapped violently around his boots, barely restrained.

Elain shifted, swallowed hard, but still, she didn’t speak first.

So you did.

Your voice was ice, sharp enough to cut through the thick silence of the room.

“You were my friend.”

Elain flinched, as if she hadn’t been expecting that.

You took a step forward, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides.

“You sat in my home, in my kitchen, and you spoke to me about the future—about my future with him.” Your voice trembled with barely contained rage, betrayal, agony. “And all the while, you were slipping poison into his tea.”

Elain’s face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears. “I—I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” she choked out, shaking her head. “I just—I just loved him so much. I wanted him to love me back.”

Azriel let out a low, sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it.

Your body shook as you tried to hold yourself together, as you tried to stop yourself from doing what you really wanted to do—rip her apart with your bare hands.

“You loved him?” you hissed, incredulous. “This is how you treat someone you love?”

Elain let out a choked sob, shaking her head frantically. “I never wanted to hurt either of you! I just—I just wanted to be with him.” She turned pleading eyes to Azriel, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. His expression remained cold, detached—like he was looking at a stranger.

Azriel’s thoughts were a storm—dark, violent, raging.

He had spent months under her influence, feeling his mind turn to fog, feeling something wrong yet unable to grasp what it was.

He had woken up in a world where he had already destroyed everything he loved, only to learn that it was not his doing at all.

And yet, the pain was his to bear.

The nights you spent alone, crying in the bed that was meant to be shared—the nights you ached for him while he unknowingly drifted further and further away—that was still his fault.

Because he had let it happen.

Because he had been blind.

He had been so careful all his life, always one step ahead, always knowing when someone was deceiving him. And yet, the one time it mattered the most, the one time it was his own happiness on the line, he had failed.

And he had lost you because of it.

Until now.

Until this moment—where he stood before the woman who had stolen his choices, his mind, his love for you—and he felt nothing but hatred.

Elain turned back to you, her shoulders hunched, small, as if she could curl into herself and disappear.

You weren’t done.

“You wanted him to love you,” you whispered, shaking your head. “But love isn’t something you steal, Elain. Love is given freely.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her chest heaving. “I just wanted him to see me.”

“You didn’t want to be invisible?” you asked, tilting your head. “So, you decided to erase me instead?”

Azriel had never felt such disgust in his entire life.

He had faced monsters, murderers, traitors, had seen the worst kinds of evil—and yet, none of them had made his stomach turn quite like Elain Archeron.

Because she had nearly destroyed him.

Not with a blade or shadows or war—but with something far more insidious.

Poison. Manipulation. Lies.

And now, standing before her, watching as she crumbled beneath the weight of her own treachery, all he felt was revulsion.

Because this girl, this delicate, soft-spoken creature who had pretended to be nothing more than sweet and kind, had nearly cost him everything.

Had nearly cost him you.

And he would never forgive her for that.

Azriel’s hand never left your waist, his grip firm, grounding, possessive, unshakable—because he needed you to feel it.

Needed you to know that he was here, that he was yours, that no one—not Elain, not fate, not the Cauldron itself—would ever take him from you again.

“You made him believe he didn’t love me,” you breathed, voice shaking with fury. “You made him think I wasn’t enough.” Your chest heaved, rage burning your lungs, your throat, every part of you. “And for what?”

Elain’s lip trembled. “I—I didn’t mean for it to—”

“But it was not only me you hurt,” you cut her off, your voice trembling with uncontained fury. “You could have killed Azriel.”

Elain’s entire body stilled, her face draining of all color. “What—what do you mean?”

You let out a cold, humorless laugh, your nails biting into your palms. “Did you even bother to look up what you were giving him? Did you think beyond your own selfish desires?”

Azriel exhaled sharply beside you, as if he couldn’t stand another second of being in her presence.

“You were so desperate for him when he was never meant to be yours, and you nearly destroyed him. The tonic you gave him,” you hissed, watching as her expression twisted into fear, “Nettlewisp, in high doses, causes paranoia, hallucinations, and irreversible brain damage. And if he had kept taking it for much longer in large doses, he could have died.”

Elain paled, her lips parting slightly, eyes going wide with horror. “I—I didn’t know -”

"Didn’t know?" Azriel’s voice was like a blade cutting through the air, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered disgust.

"You knew exactly what you were doing," he spat, his wings tensing, shadows curling angrily around his feet.

"You wanted me to leave my mate, to turn my back on the only person who has ever truly mattered to me. And you poisoned me to do it."

Elain sobbed harder, but Azriel didn’t care.

There was no more pity left inside him.

“I—I thought it would just… make you love me,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Azriel spoke, his voice a low, lethal growl.

“I never loved you.”

Elain stilled, her face crumbling.

And the way he looked at Elain now was something you had never seen before.

It wasn’t just anger.

It wasn’t just disgust, disappointment, or even loathing.

It was hatred.

A deep, seething, unshakable hatred that poured from him in waves, curling in his shadows like a living, breathing force of darkness.

His golden eyes, once warm and filled with devotion whenever they met yours, were now hard, cold, unyielding as they burned into the female who had stolen his choices, his mind, his love for you.

And you—

You didn’t know what to feel as you watched him stare at her like she was nothing.

Because this was the same Azriel who had once spent hours with her in the gardens, helping her adjust to Velaris, answering her quiet questions, listening to her speak of the world she had lost. The same Azriel who had once believed he was helping her heal—who had once believed she was I n need of kindness.

Now, he saw the truth.

Now, he saw her for what she really was.

And the complete absence of warmth, of pity, of even the smallest ounce of care in his face sent a shudder through you.

Because Elain had truly lost him.

Forever.

And some part of you reveled in that.

Some part of you relished the way his voice turned sharp, the way his words sliced into her like cold, merciless steel.

Azriel took a single step forward, his entire body radiating fury, his wings flaring slightly, his shadows curling ravenously at his feet.

Elain flinched, looking at him as if begging for mercy.

But there was none left to give.

“You were an acquaintance to me, nothing more,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth, any kindness, any mercy.

His golden eyes burned like molten fire.

“I was helping you because Feyre asked me to, because you refused to be around Lucien, and I thought I was doing my High Lady a favor.” He said, his expression unforgiving and unyielding. “You were a duty I fulfilled. Nothing more. I would have never fallen in love with you.”

Elain shook her head violently, her hands trembling as she clutched at her skirts. “No—no, that’s not true,” she whispered, desperate, broken. “You—you cared about me. You were falling in love with me.”

“No. I wasn’t.” His voice turned sharp, final. “And I never would have.”

He stared at Elain with that unwavering, icy hatred, there was no restraint.

There was only truth.

And it struck you then, with the full force of realization—

He truly hated her.

He hated her in a way that only someone who had been deeply betrayed could hate.

And you understood it.

Because you felt that same hatred.

You wanted to rip her apart with your bare hands, to make her feel even a fraction of the pain she had inflicted upon you.

You had dreamt of watching her fall to pieces, of watching her realize that all of her manipulation, all of her efforts, all of her scheming—had been for nothing.

You thought you would feel triumphant, knowing that Azriel had no love left for her—that he saw her now with the same revulsion you did.

And yet—

There was something about it that made you ache.

Not for her. Never for her.

But for him.

Because the Azriel who had once helped her adjust to this world, who had once thought he was doing a good thing, who had once trusted her enough to even let her near him—

That Azriel had been betrayed beyond measure.

And it had broken something in him.

His hatred was not hot, not wild or reckless—it was cold, calculating, merciless.

A hatred born not just from anger, but from deep, unshakable contempt.

And seeing it—truly seeing it in him now, so openly displayed for the first time—

It hurt.

Because it meant he was still hurting.

Because it meant Elain had taken something from him, too.

Not just from you.

Not just from the relationship you had spent years building together.

She had taken his choices.

She had taken his trust.

And as you watched him stand there, the rage simmering just beneath the surface, you knew—

This was his reckoning, too.

Azriel's golden eyes bore into hers, and when he spoke next, his voice was clear, unwavering, and final.

"There has only ever been one person I have loved," he murmured, tilting his head toward you. "And there will never be another." His voice turned sharp as steel. "You could have poisoned me for eternity, and I still would have never loved you."

The words hung in the air, curling around you like something sacred, something devastatingly precious.

Your breath hitched, your heart clenching violently, your entire body locking up as if the world had just shifted beneath you.

You felt everything at once.

A rush of vindication, a flood of anger, sorrow, longing, love—all of it, all at the same time, tearing through your chest like a storm too wild to control.

Because this—this was what you had been waiting to hear.

Not just that Elain had stolen his choices. Not just that he had been poisoned and manipulated.

But that his love for you had never wavered.

Not once.

Even when he thought he had left you, even when he had walked away from you in that alley, when he had believed he wanted something else—it had never been true.

It had never been real.

And hearing it—hearing him say it, in front of her, knowing that he was fully himself again, knowing that he had come back to you with love still in his heart—

It made your knees weak.

It made your lungs feel tight, your throat burn, your pulse race.

Because after everything, after all the months of agony, after thinking you had lost him, after believing you were no longer enough for him—

He was still yours.

He had been yours all along.

Azriel’s head snapped toward you, his golden eyes filled with a depth of emotion so overwhelming it nearly stole your breath away. “I have only ever loved you. I will only ever love you. Nothing—not her, not anything—could ever change that.”

He was standing before you now, himself again, the male who had always loved you fiercely, wholly, irrevocably.

The male who would do anything to fix what had been broken.

And you still loved him.

Elain’s lips quivered, tears slipping down her cheeks, but neither of you cared anymore.

You stared down at her, at the pitiful, broken creature before you, and for the first time, you felt nothing.

No pity.

No sadness.

No remorse.

And now, as she sat there, falling apart in the wake of her own ruin, you felt only justice.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a fae,” you murmured, voice low and deadly calm. “And exile is too kind for what you’ve done.” You inhaled sharply. “But I will support my High Lord’s decision, even though you deserve so much worse.”

Elain looked up at you, her face a mess of tears, her expression twisted in guilt and shame.

You let out a slow breath, shaking your head. “I used to feel bad for Lucien,” you admitted, staring at her as if she were a stranger. “I thought it was cruel, the way you pushed him away, the way you acted like he was some burden to bear.” You smiled then, but it was cold, empty. “But now? Now I realize Lucien is the lucky one.”

Elain let out a quiet sob, her entire body hunched in on itself.

“Because you will NEVER be good enough for him,” you sneered. “Because you are selfish, weak, and cruel. You will never deserve him.”

She let out a broken gasp, her eyes filled with pain, with regret, with loss.

But you didn’t care.

“I came here wanting to physically hurt you…slap you, punch you, anything to make you feel the pain and hurt you caused me,” you said, your voice light, almost thoughtful. “But now I realize—you aren’t even worth it.”

Elain’s face crumpled.

You stepped over to her, but speaking loud enough for Azriel to hear your last words.

“This is the last time I will think of you,” you murmured, “but I know you will think of me every single day.” Your voice was a soft whisper of victory. “When I am with Azriel, the love of my life and the mate you could never have. He is mine.”

"And he was never yours," you whispered, your voice like a whispered promise, like a blade gliding across silk.

Azriel’s entire body shuddered, something dark and fierce and possessive curling in his chest, something that sent a violent wave of emotion surging through the bond.

Yours.

You were claiming him.

Gods—you still wanted him.

After everything, after all the pain, all the betrayal, all the nights you had spent crying yourself to sleep, after he had failed you so utterly, after he had let Elain’s poison seep into him and turn him into a version of himself that you had not recognized—

You still wanted him.

You still chose him.

Not just as your mate, but as your love, your partner, your forever.

And gods, he had never wanted anything more than to belong to you.

Because you were right.

He had never been Elain’s.

Not for a single second.

Not even when the poison had clouded his mind, not even when she had stolen his emotions, twisted his thoughts, made him believe he wanted something else.

Even then, even when his mind had been warped beyond recognition, his soul had still belonged to you.

And now, hearing you say it—hearing you say it with such certainty, with such quiet, unshakable conviction—

Something inside him cracked wide open.

It undid him.

Completely.

His breathing turned ragged, his hands clenching at his sides, his shadows curling in slow, reverent waves around his boots, no longer frantic, no longer restless.

Because this was all he had ever wanted.

To be yours.

To be claimed by you, chosen by you, loved by you.

To stand at your side, where he had always belonged.

Elain let out a choked, shattered noise, as if those words had been the final blow, the final nail in the coffin of her ruined, twisted fantasy.

But Azriel didn’t look at her.

Not anymore.

Because there was only one person in this world who mattered to him.

Only one person he would spend the rest of his life making it up to.

Only one person he would worship for as long as he lived.

Elain let out a shaky, broken sob, her body trembling as she folded into herself, her arms wrapping around her chest as if trying to hold together the shattered pieces of her own ruin.

And he—

He felt nothing.

Nothing but satisfaction.

Because she deserved this.

She deserved to sit in the wreckage of her own destruction, to watch the world she had so desperately tried to steal crumble into nothing before her.

Because she had never been his choice.

Not then.

Not now.

Not ever.

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, and when you turned toward the door, ready to leave this wreckage of a confrontation behind—

He pulled you to him.

Right there, in front of her.

And before you could even register the movement, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t soft or careful.

It was fierce, unyielding, consuming...a declaration, a vow, a promise carved in stone.

A kiss that said you are mine, and I am yours, and nothing will ever change that again.

A kiss that said I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I will never, never lose you again.

A kiss that said this is real.

This is forever.

Elain gasped, her breath hitching at the display in front of her, but Azriel didn’t give a damn.

Because he had spent too long pulled into a fate that was never his to claim.

Spent too long letting others dictate where his heart should belong.

He groaned as he tangled his hands into your hair, his tongue sliding across your lips, silently asking for entry, which you immediately gave him. He stroked his tongue across yours again and again, as if memorizing the taste of your lips that he had gone without for months. He drank from you like a man starved and when he finally broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands firm on your waist as if he would never let go again—

He turned to Elain as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and spoke the words that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Nothing and no one will EVER pull me away from her again."

His voice was low, with lethal undertones challenging anyone that would dare try to take him away again, each syllable carved into the air like an unbreakable vow.

"I am forever hers, and I will destroy anyone who tries to separate us again."

And when he looked back at you—the love, the devotion, the certainty in his golden eyes nearly stole your breath away.

Because he meant it.

Every word.

Every touch.

Every piece of his soul, his heart, his love—

It was all yours.

And then, in a voice so low and filled with love, with certainty, with the quiet promise of a future that was now truly yours again, he murmured,

"Come, my love. Let’s go home."

Home.

The word hit something deep inside you, something raw and aching and fragile from all the months of pain, of loneliness, of grief.

But you let out a slow breath, your body relaxing into his touch, into the warmth and safety of the only male who had ever made you feel truly seen, truly cherished, truly loved.

Azriel didn’t glance back.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t need to.

So you let him lead you out of the apartment, his arm firmly around your waist, his body a steady, unshakable force beside you.

And as the door shut behind you, sealing Elain in her own self-inflicted misery, you realized—

You were no longer drowning.

You were finally…free.

*****

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, sealing Elain away in her own self-inflicted ruin, leaving behind the wreckage of her destruction, her desperation, her betrayal.

Azriel’s arm remained firm around your waist, his body warm and solid against yours, his shadows curling softly around the two of you, not frantic like before, but calm, reverent.

He was watching you—really watching you, his golden eyes filled with something raw, something aching, something so unbearably tender that it nearly stole your breath away.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed his face in your hands, pulling him down, your fingers threading into his dark hair, gripping him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

You kissed him.

Fiercely.

Desperately.

With every ounce of longing, of grief, of love that had been buried beneath months of pain.

Azriel let out a low, guttural groan, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed you just as badly, as if he was terrified of letting go.

His lips moved against yours, urgent, devouring, worshipping, and you felt it in your soul, in the bond that had been stretched thin but never severed.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours, his body pressing into you, a silent plea, a silent vow, a silent apology.

And gods—you could have stayed like this forever.

Because this—this was yours.

This was real.

Not the twisted illusion Elain had tried to create, not the falsehoods laced in poison, but this—Azriel, his hands on you, his lips on yours, his love still burning for you despite everything.

When you finally broke apart, both of you panting, chests heaving, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering open to meet his molten gaze.

His expression was wrecked, his lips red and swollen from your kiss, his breathing still ragged, his hands still holding onto you as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Gods, I have missed you, baby. I love you so much,” he whispered, his eyes gazing at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And then, softly, you whispered,

"I love you, Az. Take me home."

A sound escaped him, something close to a shuddering breath, a quiet prayer, before he nodded, pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips, softer this time, filled with something quieter, something reverent.

Then—he pulled you into his arms and flew to the cabin.

*****

The cabin loomed in the distance, its silhouette cutting through the dense, moonlit forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the faintest hint of rain, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Azriel’s body, his grip firm yet trembling as he landed gently with you in his arms. Months apart had stretched between you like a chasm, but now, as he led you up the creaking steps to the front door, the tension between you was electric—unspoken, undeniable.

He paused, his broad shoulders tense beneath the black fabric of his shirt, and turned to face you. His eyes, those piercing, stormy hazel eyes that had haunted your dreams, searched yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You could see it there—the regret, the longing, the desperate need to fix what had been broken.

His voice, low and rough, broke the silence. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, the words slipping out like a confession. “More than I can say.”

Your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone, and you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that dusted his jaw. His skin was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver through you.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Every single second, Azriel.”

His hand covered yours, pressing it harder against his face as if he feared you’d pull away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “For everything. For not seeing what was happening. For making you feel I didn’t love you anymore. For making you feel like you were nothing. For not fighting harder as she was trying to pull me away.”

His other hand came up to grip your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were inches apart. You could feel the heat radiating from him, could smell the faint, night-chilled mist and cedar scent that was so uniquely his.

It made your head swim.

“We are both victims of Elain’s lies and manipulation. But we’re here now and we’re still standing,” you said softly, your other hand resting on his chest. His heart thudded beneath your palm, steady and strong. “That’s all that matters.”

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours. For a moment, you just stood there, breathing each other in, the world around you fading away. Then, with a sudden, almost desperate urgency, his lips crashed into yours.

He didn’t give you time to think, to second-guess, to wonder if you were dreaming.

Because this—you and him, tangled in each other, wrapped up in love and fire and desperate need—

This was real.

And he was going to make sure you knew it.

It wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time you’d lost in one kiss. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. The feel of him, the taste of him, was overwhelming, and you felt yourself melting into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

His tongue slid against yours, teasing, claiming, and you arched into him, your hands sliding down to grip the back of his shirt. He was everywhere—his scent, his warmth, his touch—and it was too much and not enough all at once. When he finally pulled back, both of you were panting, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

“I need you,” he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. “I need to feel you, to know you’re really here. That you’re still mine.”

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak, and you nodded, your hands sliding down to grip his. “I have always been yours, Azriel” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He growled as he swept you up into his arms, carrying you through the front door and into the cabin.

The second the cabin door shut behind you, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, unyielding, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he could somehow fuse you into his very being. His mouth stayed on yours as his body pressed you backward, his hard cock grinding against you.

"Do you feel what you still do to me, baby? he growled against your lips.

You whimpered in response as his lips continued to claims yours.

The fire was already lit, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, and he set you down gently on the rug in front of the hearth. His eyes never left yours as he knelt before you, his hands sliding up your thighs to the hem of your dress.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Let me show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly peeled the fabric away, revealing your bare skin to the warm glow of the fire. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, and you could see the hunger in his gaze, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as they skimmed over your body.

“Gods, you still take my breath away,” he breathed, his voice reverent. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing over your ribs, and you shivered, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch was electric, sending ripples of pleasure through you with every caress.

When his lips found yours again, it was softer this time—slow, lingering kisses that made your heart ache with how much you’d missed him.

"I almost lost you." His voice broke, his hazel eyes gazing into yours as his hands slid down your sides, tracing every inch of you like he was relearning, reclaiming, reminding you that you had always been his. "Never again, my love. Never again."

You arched into him, your hands sliding over his shoulders to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“Azriel,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them, his breath hot against your inner thigh.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his voice rough with need as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin there. “Being between your thighs, tasting what is mine, hearing you moan my name as you fall apart for me.”

You gasped as his lips brushed against your core, your hands tangling in his hair as he teased you with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. His name spilled from your lips, a desperate, broken sound that only seemed to spur him on. He devoured you like a man starved, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still as he brought you to the edge and then pulled you back, again and again, until you were trembling beneath him.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I need you.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. “Not yet, baby” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not done with you.”

You moaned, your back arching as his hands slid up your body, his lips following the path of his fingers. He was everywhere—his touch, his kisses, his words—and you felt like you were drowning in him. Your hands slid down to grip his shoulders, pulling him up to meet you in a desperate, hungry kiss.

“I need you inside me,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Azriel.”

He groaned, his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I need you inside me,” you repeated, your voice breaking as you arched into him. “Make me yours again.”

With a low growl, he thrust into you, filling you completely in one swift, powerful stroke. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. He was everywhere—his body, his scent, his touch—and you felt like you were falling apart in his arms.

"I could stay buried inside you for a week," he groaned against your throat, his hands gripping your hips, his breath uneven, his body moving against yours with slow, deliberate control. "So you never forget. So you always know who you belong to."

And gods, you did.

Because every touch, every whispered “I love you”, every press of his lips against your skin was a vow.

A vow that nothing, no one, would ever come between you again.

Hours passed, the world outside fading, lost in the rhythm of your bodies, lost in the quiet moans and breathless gasps that filled the cabin.

Until finally, you both collapsed into each other, sweat-drenched, breathless, bodies tangled together as if untangling would mean losing each other again.

Azriel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath warm against your bare shoulder, his body still pressed against yours as his shadows lazily curled over your skin.

"I told Rhys we’d be here as long as we wanted," he murmured against your hair, his voice laced with exhaustion, with absolute contentment.

You blinked, still floating in the haze of pleasure, of love, of belonging.

"Your duties—"

"Can wait."

His grip tightened, his lips pressing to your temple.

"You are my number one priority now. Forever. And nothing will change that."

Tears pricked at your eyes, your heart swelling so fiercely you thought it might burst.

Because for so long, you had felt second.

Forgotten.

Neglected.

But now—now, he was here.

Completely.

Entirely.

"Rhys understands," he murmured, his fingers brushing soothing circles along your back. "He told me to take as much time as we need."

You exhaled, something deep inside you settling, healing, finally at peace.

"I love you," you whispered into the quiet, into the safety of his embrace.

He tilted your chin up, his golden eyes burning with something fierce, something unshakable.

"And I love you."

You smiled, the first true, unburdened smile you had felt in months.

"I’m glad to be here."

Azriel’s expression softened, his arms tightening around you as he pressed a lingering, soul-stealing kiss to your lips.

"You are home, my love."

And as the first rays of morning light spilled through the windows, illuminating your tangled bodies, your breath still mingling as you held each other—

You knew.

This was exactly where you were meant to be.

But before you could say anything else, before you could even fully process how at peace you felt in his arms,

Azriel rolled you beneath him again, a wicked gleam in his golden eyes.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gasping slightly as he trailed his lips down your throat.

He smirked against your skin, his voice dark with promise.

"Loving you the way you deserve. Again."

And gods help you, you let him.

Because this was home.

He was your home.

And you would never leave again.

Chapter 14

[amatoryscripts]

Never Let You Go

Pairing: Soft yan! Caleb x Fem! reader

Summary: You've had back-to-back missions lately, and Caleb's getting fed up and concerned. Not only is he worried, but he also hates that he hasn't been able to spend more time with you lately. When Jenna calls, saying she needs you on a mission with the team, he doesn't like the idea and intervenes with you going.

Warnings/tags. MDNI +18: Soft yandere Caleb, forcing you to stay home, poor baby cares too much, obsessive and possessive, unprotected sex, use of "baby girl" "princess" "baby" "pretty girl", MC giving him the silent treatment,makeup sex, biting, so good he tears up.

Lately, every time you turn around, a call from Jenna would come through about a mission that would take up hours of your day, sometimes even longer. How often you've been disappearing in the last two weeks was becoming concerning. Especially to Caleb, who has noticed this the most. How could he not? Every time you two had plans to be together, you had to cancel because of a last-minute mission due to wanderers lurking around. It didn't help his anxiety when you'd video call him after these missions; you'd be bruised up and getting bandaged by the medical techs during a majority of these calls. It pained him to see you in those conditions, as if his own heart could feel all the bruises and wounds you've accumulated on your body.

He always tells you that you can say no to a mission once in a while. Seeing you relax on his couch, reading one of your books while he made you food was a more enjoyable image than seeing you covered in blood and injured. Despite him asking you to do so many times, you refuse. Your response would always involve your worries of not being there for your team and helping to save those around. You were always putting other people first. Sometimes, he wishes you were as selfish as him.

Today was supposed to involve a relaxing date night at his apartment. The plan was to eat dinner and watch the movie they didn't get to last time cuddled up on the couch. In the kitchen, he was cooking a new dish you've been craving to try for a while. Oyster Rockefeller paired with lemon rice and sauteed Korean cucumber. When you mentioned your interest in it, he took note of the dish and garnered the ingredients for the day he knew you two would be together. This is the only thing he's been looking forward to all week.

You sauntered into the kitchen wearing one of his t-shirts and shorts. You've always liked wearing his clothes, but he especially likes it, thinking it makes you two feel closer. Plus, he thought it was cute when you'd hide half of your face and body in his shirts when sitting down. You rest your head against his back, taking in the smell of the seasonings invading the air. "Smells good," you hum, wrapping your arms around his torso. Caleb smiles at your embrace, wanting you to stay attached to him like this all the time.

"I should be done in the next hour or so," he informed you, sautéing the aromatics. He could tell how happy you were that he was making this dish for you. He took pleasure in doing things like this. He didn't mind it one bit, relishing in your happiness and the way your face lights up when he would take care of you. You're very independent, but take advantage of the way he wants to do everything for you. Sometimes, you wonder if you're taking advantage of poor Caleb, but he would always respond with how his only wish in life was to make yours as easy as possible.

"I was thinking we could also play Mario Ka-" You were cut off by the sound of a call trying to get your attention. Caleb already had a clue of who it could be. He puts down the knife he was using to split open the cucumbers and watched as you took the phone out of your pocket. It was Jenna, as always.

"Don't answer it," his low and dark tone caught you off guard for a split second. He knew Jenna was gearing up to swoop you away, once again, to go fight off wanderers they could take down by themselves without you. He didn't understand why they always needed to involve you in all these missions.

"Caleb, I have to," you remind him, letting go to answer the phone. As you turned around to pick up the call, you suddenly felt your body be immobilized. "Huh?" you grunt, trying to move but to no avail. Caleb walks in front of you, taking the phone from your hand. He was using his evol to keep you from moving and answering the phone. His arms swing over your shoulder, covering your mouth with his hand as he answers the phone.

"Hello?... Hi, Jenna... sorry she can't come to the phone," you muffled through his hands, trying to get him to stop. Your eyes demanding for him to let you go. "She's actually pretty sick... yeah, it must be a stomach bug. Poor thing can barely even speak," he smirks, looking down at you. "I'll tell her you hope she gets better. Bye now," he hangs up the phone and places it on the counter. He continues to keep you restrained but removed his hand so you can speak.

"Caleb! Why would you do that?!" You press as you watch him go to lock the front door and return to your side.

"I don't think you should go on that mission," concern and domianance coats his voice as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You knew he hated you going on missions, but to basically keep you hostage irked you in so many ways.

"That's not really up to you," you struggle. Caleb's overprotectiveness was nothing new to you. He's always made it known that he would never let anything happen to you and would always protect you. You appreciate and even love that he feels this way, but it didn't mean he could stop you from making your own decisions. "Let me go." Your tone is firm as you stand your ground.

"Only if you promise to stay here and let your team handle everything," he attempts to bargain with you, hoping you'd give in easily. Your stubbornness was the real threat to him. He wouldn't put it past you to try and run out of the apartment as soon as he let you go, attempting to join your team in their fight against the wanderers terrorizing wherever Jenna wanted to send you off to.

"I can't leave my team behind," you retort, thinking about how your absence might affect them. They were strong, and you had faith in them, but that didn't mean you were okay with the idea of not being there when they might need you.

"They'll be fine," he assures you. "But I won't be if you come back hurt again. It took you days to recover last time, and now they're trying to send you back out there." His voice is tender, wrapped with a hint of frustration. The last thing he wanted to see was you covered in bandages with blood soaking through and bruises not caused by him decorating your body.

He wasn't wrong. You weren't fond of coming home all banged up, but you took this job to protect people, something you want to do. If that meant sometimes getting hurt, then so be it. "Caleb, I'm strong enough to protect myself. I don't need you treating me like glass. I'll always get a scratch here or there, but it comes with the territory, and I accepted that. You need to do the same." You didn't get this far by being fragile. Jenna put you on her team for a reason, and Caleb needed to start seeing you as someone strong and capable, not the little girl he would protect from bullies and danger 24/7.

He stayed silent, cupping your face and staring into your fiery eyes. He just wants to keep you like this. At his whim and safe from the cruelties of outside. Was that so wrong? Wanting to keep you locked away being only with him?

"You can't keep me from doing my job," you sigh, knowing he was just scared of losing you again. You both shared that fear, so she understood him well.

"I can try," his assertion not wavering, standing strong in his goal to keep you here. "You're not leaving. You're going to eat dinner, and we're going to watch the movie like we planned, okay?" All he could think about was how this interruption was ruining this time meant for you two to be alone.

You were silent, your frustration consuming you as you stared at him with narrow eyes. You knew trying to run off would be futile. He looks the most determined you’ve ever seen him. Jenna already thinks you're sick, so what's the point? After another few seconds of staring each other down, you give in. "Fine," reluctance infuses your words, knowing he wouldn't back down. He drops his evol, and you move your shoulders around, relaxing your body.

At the dinner table, you weren't talkative like usual. Your attention was on the food, not looking up at Caleb once. You were too upset to properly enjoy the meal. Normally, you'd be showering him with compliments as you stuffed your face from happiness. At this moment, you were picking at the food, taking small bites as you worried about your team, wondering how the mission was going.

Caleb stabbed his plate, picking up a piece of the oyster on his fork, watching you ignore him. "I'm doing this to keep you safe," he suddenly says. You didn't look up, pushing a slice of cucumber in your mouth. He could even make cucumber taste amazing. You keep the praise to yourself, listening to him attempt to make you understand why he did what he did. "It drives me crazy when you're risking your life for others. Doing it back to back too often is insane." He grips his fork, which begins to bend slightly from his strength. "You can really hurt yourself if you keep pushing your body like this. I wouldn't forgive myself for letting you go out there to get hurt."

Still, you refused to acknowledge him, pushing the rest of your food around. As the silence continued, the sound of your phone receiving a message echoed. You checked the notification and saw it was from Tara, hoping you got well, while also informing you that the mission was a success and everyone was fine. That message made you smile for the first time since you sat down.

"I'm assuming you received good news and everyone's limbs are intact. Happy now?" You frown at his comment. You hope he didn't think you would forgive him easily because everyone was fine.

"Yeah, it's good to know I can stop feeling guilty for worrying about my teammates when I should've been there for them!" You hiss, standing up abruptly and marching into the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Caleb stays at the dinner table, not touching his food anymore from a loss of appetite. He didn't like it when you got like this. It made his heart crumble when you'd give him the cold shoulder and shut him out. All he wants is to be near you and make you happy. Now you were pissed and shutting him out. His worst fear, right below losing you forever. You were scary in this state, going from being sweet and loving to an eruption of anger.

You stayed in the room, covering yourself with the shirt you wore. holding your phone inches from your face as you caught up with your teammates. You heard Caleb leave the apartment a few minutes after you got up from the table. Curiosity about where he ran off to did creep around your mind, but you were still annoyed at his behavior. When you checked in with the last member, you felt better than earlier, knowing everyone got out without being heavily injured. Even if Tara confirmed this with you earlier, it still didn't feel right not checking in with them.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupts your scrolling through your Moment feed. You close the screen as you watch the door slowly open, a small, plushed brown bear poking it's head through the crack.

"Caleb wanted to say he was sorry and that he misses you. Can he come in?" a high-pitched voice, you assume coming from Caleb, chirps. You couldn't help the small smirk that danced on your lips. You stifle it as you respond. "You can come in".

Caleb's large body pushes through the door, holding the bear as he approaches your side of the bed with the peace offering. "I went to the arcade and saw this little guy," he explains as he holds the bear out for you. You take the gift, examining its little face and soft fur. "Bears are cute and cuddly, but we know they're ferocious when provoked."

"You calling me a bear?" your brows raise in amusement at his comment.

"Absolutely," his response makes you chuckle, almost forgetting why you were mad at him in the first place. You shove your face in the back of the plushies head as you took in how it smelt like Caleb already. He watches you indulge in the bear, looking more peaceful than before.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, sitting beside you. His hand travels to your blanket-covered legs, giving them a small squeeze. "I shouldn't have lied to Jenna and stopped you from going on the mission". You raise your head, listening to what he had to say. " I...I was just scared. I didn't want to see you get hurt again. I was selfish, not wanting you to disappear for hours while I would be here alone without you while you missed dinner and the movie." His voice was infused with an apologetic tone laced in sadness. You could tell he was just worried and wanted to do whatever he could to keep you protected.

You run your hand over his. "I want you to have more faith in me and my abilities to protect myself". His heart jumps at your touch and the softness in your voice. "I know me being a hunter is worrisome for you, but you have to believe that I'll be okay."

"I do have faith in you. I just can't stop thinking about what would happen if something goes wrong. If a wanderer hurt you or someone else did, I'd go crazy." His grip becomes tighter at the thought. You squeeze his hand to show him that you were there with him and not off getting hurt, trying to bring him back to the present.

"I can't promise I'll never get hurt, and I'll always be in the best condition, but no matter what, I'll always come back to you. That I can promise." He wants to say; How do you know you'll always come back? , but he didn't want to dwell on that thought when you were touching and looking at him with so much promise and affection in your eyes. He didn't want his worries to ruin this moment. Instead, he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. It started off soft and innocent but transformed deeper, filled with yearning.

"You promise?" he questioned, breaking the kiss to look at you as he cupped your face, not wanting to ever let go of it.

"I promise I'll always come back to your side," you whisper, leaning back in to continue the kiss.

Heavy breathing and whimpers flooded the silent room. Your face contorted in pleasure as Caleb's fingers worked their way inside of you, pumping at a rhythmic but swift pace, watching how you took his fingers perfectly, coating them in your wet heat. His lips found that delicate spot on your neck as he nibbled and sucked on it, drawing out those sweet moans he loved hearing from your lips. "You sound so cute like this, baby," he comments in a dark, sensual tone. "I wanna hear more." His thumb joins in on the fun, circling over your throbbing, sensitive pearl, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body jolts and twitches as you cry out for him.

"Caleb! fuck...feels so good," you mewl into his hair, gripping his shoulder tightly, nails digging into his skin leaving behind crescent marks. His fingers could feel your walls tightened around them, signaling how close you were.

"That's it. Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Be a good girl for me, okay? Let me take care of you". He moans into your neck, feeling how hard he was getting from the sounds you were making and the tightness of your cunt sucking him in. His movements mixed with his words, encouraged your peak to shoot through your body, cumming all over his fingers. He slows down, drawing out your orgasm before bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting you on his fingers.

"You taste so sweet," he coos, cleaning his fingers off as if he was desperate to get every last bit into his mouth. "Let me taste you some more," he whispers darkly before dropping his head between your legs. You let out a soft gasp as he connects his mouth to your soaking pussy, wasting no time to lap up your juices and shove the same fingers he just licked clean, right back inside. The combination pushes you further into your pleasure. He's relentless in his goal to drive you crazy. He sucks on your sensitive nub, humming in delight as you lose your words, spilling out whimpers and cries from how he was ruining you. Your fingers found his head and began grasping at his dark locks, pulling at them from the stimulation engulfing your body. He groans in satisfaction, loving when you got handsy like this. "Harder," he commands in a low groan. It didn't take much for you to tug on his hair even more. He made sure of it when he spread your legs wider, giving him the change to fuck his fingers in deeper.

"Caleb!" you call out, your voice soft and trembling. "I'm...ah~', your squealing elicits a wicked chuckle from his throat. "No, no. I can't, I can't." Your face twists as you lose confidence in your ability to cum again for him.

"Yes, you can," he growls, picking up his pace as he continues sucking your clit as your hips buck into his mouth. His fingers curl up into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. "You can do it. I wanna taste you cum all over my mouth" he sucks harder on her clit causing a high pitched whine to spill from her lips "Just one more time. Please, baby? I'll make you feel so good, I promise" he pleads for you to let yourself cum on his mouth. You whimper and buck your hips as your release finds you once again, dripping all over his lips as he hums in satisfaction. "Fuck... your such a good girl for me". He finishes lapping up your juices as if he was licking a plate clean.

Your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, watching him push one leg back to your chest. He wasn't done yet; he couldn't be satisfied until he was buried deep inside of you. He lines his throbbing cock between your legs, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds. "You want more of me, pretty girl?" he purrs, trying to hold back from slamming into you the way he wants.

You look at him with pleading eyes, nodding feverishly as you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, wanting the same thing that was clouding his mind. He drops his head down to your ear, gripping your hip tightly as he nibbles and licks your lobe. A shiver infiltrates your body, going down your spine, causing you to push yourself up into him.

"Come on, use your words, princess," he insists, pushing his teasing cock between your folds just enough to make you groan in impatience.

" Please, Caleb. I need you," you whine. He drops down to your tits, playing with one while he sucked the nipple of the other, nibbling just enough to make your legs kick and wrap around him from the sensation.

" What do you need, hm?" he smirks, wanting to hear you beg some more. "You need my cock fucking this cute little pussy? you want me to ruin you, baby?" his voice was dark and tainted with lust as he twisted your nipple. " Cause I'll fucking ruin you if you want."

"Yes," you breathe, followed by a small whine. "I need you to fuck me so badly." Your plea doesn't become lost on him. He pushes himself into you, groaning from feeling how tight you were around his tip.

"Oh fuck!" he grunts, pushing further into you, watching the way your mouth part and eyes flutter. Once he saw you'd taken most of him, he pulls back slowly and shoves himself back in, evoking a loud cry from you that he soon began to devour, moaning into your mouth as his hips thrust into you. his movements were hungry, wanting his cock to be the only thing you could feel. He breaks the kiss, looking down at you watching how your tits bounced against your chest, gripping your hips tightly pushing them back onto him. "You look so pretty like this, baby. Do you like how I feel?"

You could barely speak, feeling too consumed by him stretching you out. You bit your lips, stifling your cries as your body succumbed to the warm heat spreading through you.

"Answer me, princess," he thrusts into you harder, making you gasp and whine as you grip the side of the bed.

" Yes!" You wail. " Love it so much...please... need more," you pant, catching his purple eyes that have darkened from his craving. He drops into the crook of your neck, lifting your hips up to give him more leverage. He slams into you erratically, the sound of your skin meeting repeatedly dancing in the air, mixing with moans and grunts trickling from both of your lips as the headboard crashes into the wall behind you.

"Wanna stay like this forever" he groans, using his finger to rub circles around your clit, adding more intensity to your body. "Fuck! Wanna always be buried in this tight pussy. Wanna feel you like this all the time." he expresses his desires, occasionally letting out a small whimper from how you were clenching around him. "Never wanna leave you. Never." His thrusts turn sharper as each word escapes him. You feel a drop of water meeting your collarbone, sparking confusion. You look down at him, lifting his head to meet your face. Tears were prickling the corner of his eyes as he looked at you with emotions and yearning flooding his gaze. "Please don't leave me," he grovels, continuing his sloppy movements inside of you.

"I won't," you mutter, kissing his forehead softly. You couldn't help but think of how cute he looked like this. So desperate for her that it brought him to tears.

"Say it," he begs, feeling himself getting closer. "Say you'll never leave me. Say you'll always be here. I need to hear you say it...please." He bites your shoulder, scrunching up his face as his balls tighten, ready to give you all of him. You mewl from his bite, a mixture of pain and pleasure taking over you.

" I'll never leave you, I promise! I promise!" your cries swamp his mind as he finds himself shooting his hot cum deep inside of you, letting your voice permeate his mind. His release is thrust deeper inside as his hips slow down, refusing to pull out. He looks down at himself inside of you movingly slowly, taking in the white ring around the base of his cock, as streaks of his cum drips down your inner thighs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his attention to your lips. Your kiss is soft and saturated with affection. You could tell he's been worried about this for so long. The thought of you leaving one day, always floating and haunting him in the back of his mind.

"I'm gonna hold you to that promise," he murmurs, catching his breath as he crashes on top of you, ensuring he didn't suffocate his precious girl. With his eyes closed, his fingers drew patterns on your warm stomach.

"And I'll make sure to always keep it." You kiss the top of his head, pulling him in closer as you pet his soft head, showing that you would never let go.

[rejiun]

Love and cramps

pairing. Ni-ki x f!readerㅤ

summary. Reader gets there period and niki cares for them

wc. 1k+

genre. fluff , period cramps, kind boyfriend

warnings. Mentions of dying and pain. Very lovey dovey, Kisses, teeth rotting writing lol (Let me know if i missed anything)

The moment you woke up, you knew something was wrong. A dull ache settled in your lower stomach, slowly growing into an unbearable wave of pain. You groaned, curling up into a ball, hoping that somehow, if you stayed still enough, it would magically disappear.

It didn’t.

With a sigh, you peeled your eyes open and reached for your phone on the nightstand. The brightness nearly blinded you, but through squinted eyes, you checked the date.

Oh. That explained everything.

You let out another groan, this time dramatically, before burying your face into the pillow.

That’s when Ni-ki stirred beside you.

Still half-asleep, he reached out instinctively, his hand finding your waist as he pulled you closer. “Mmm… why are you making weird noises?” he mumbled groggily, his voice laced with sleep.

You peeked up at him, your face still half-buried in the pillow. “I’m dying.”

Ni-ki cracked one eye open, his brows furrowing slightly. “Huh?”

You huffed. “Period cramps.”

At that, he blinked fully awake. He propped himself up on one elbow, his messy bed hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you. “That bad?”

You nodded miserably, curling up tighter. “It feels like my uterus is trying to self-destruct.”

Ni-ki let out a small chuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Wait here. I got you.”

You watched as he slipped out of bed, still in his sweats and oversized hoodie, his movements slightly sluggish from just waking up. He stretched briefly before disappearing out the door.

Despite your discomfort, you felt a tiny warmth bloom in your chest. He always did this—taking care of you without hesitation, even when he was still half-asleep.

A few minutes later, he returned, carrying a heating pad, a cup of tea, and a small plate of snacks.

"Here," he said, placing the heating pad gently on your stomach. "This should help."

You sighed in relief as the warmth started to soothe the pain. “You’re an angel.”

Ni-ki grinned. “I know.”

Rolling your eyes at his cockiness, you took the cup of tea from him and took a small sip. The warmth helped, but the cramps were still nagging. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a small whimper.

Immediately, Ni-ki set the snack plate down and climbed back into bed beside you. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

You melted against him, resting your head on his chest as his arms wrapped securely around you. His warmth, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, was the most comforting thing in the world.

"Better?" he asked softly, rubbing small circles on your back.

"A little," you admitted, closing your eyes. "But if you could magically make the cramps go away, that’d be great.”

Ni-ki let out a thoughtful hum. “I could try performing some sort of exorcism, but I don’t think your uterus would appreciate that.”

Despite the pain, you let out a small giggle. “Probably not.”

"Then I guess you're stuck with me and my superior cuddling skills," he said smugly.

You snorted. "Superior? Debatable."

"Excuse me?" Ni-ki pulled back slightly, looking at you in mock offense. "Did you just insult my cuddling abilities?"

You smirked, even as another cramp hit you. "I mean… I’ve had better."

His jaw dropped. "You’re lucky you're already suffering, or I’d start a tickle attack right now."

You gasped, clutching his hoodie dramatically. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ni-ki smirked, wiggling his fingers as if he were about to go in for the kill. You immediately clung to him, shaking your head frantically.

"No! Mercy! I take it back, you’re the best cuddler ever!"

He chuckled in satisfaction before pulling you even closer. "That’s more like it."

The two of you stayed like that for a while—wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the heating pad doing its job, and Ni-ki absentmindedly tracing patterns on your back.

Then, after a moment of silence, he suddenly asked, “So… do I get the same treatment when I’m sick?”

You lifted your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to baby you?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be as cute about it as you are.”

"You think I’m cute?" he teased, his smirk widening.

You groaned, shoving your face back into his chest. "Shut up."

Ni-ki laughed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. "Love you too, baby."

And somehow, despite the cramps, the warmth of his arms made everything a little more bearable.

[alaia777]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

[innorality]

could you do satoru coming home with a huge scar on his stomach after not contacting his gf for weeks and then reassuring her with intimacy please?

HEAVEN CAN WAIT — G. SATORU

cw : sad in the beginning, afab reader, unprotected, p in v, honestly very cute sex nothing too kinky

a/n : tysm nonnie you gave me the opportunity to use this song as a title finally 🥹 also this idea is so cute like yes pls soft vanilla "I missed you sex" with satoru #needthat !!! also #satoruisalive I believe in it 💔 oh and I'm so sorry this feels very rushed and is not proofread :(

wc : 1335 words 😼

empty. cold. that’s how his side of the bed felt at the moment. it had been weeks since you last saw him, and days since his last message. your eyes stayed glued to your screen, rereading his final words over and over again.

"i luv youuu"

cold tears slipped down your cheeks. you weren’t even sure if they were from grief or from your irritated eyes after staring at the screen for so long without blinking. deep down, you knew the truth—you weren’t dumb. this was bound to happen one day. but you weren’t ready to accept it yet. you wanted to stay in denial just a little longer.

satoru was supposed to be the strongest. so why hadn’t he come home?

with a shaky breath, you shut your phone off and set it aside. hugging his pillow tightly, you buried your face into it—only to realize it didn’t even smell like him anymore.

silent sobs wracked your body as exhaustion finally overtook you.

but in the dead of night, a noise startled you awake.

footsteps.

first near the front door. then in the living room. the kitchen.

and now… heading toward your bedroom.

afraid, you hid under your blanket like a child. you didn’t know if it was reflex or true fear—because honestly, after losing the man you loved, life had lost all meaning.

the door slid open, and you held your breath.

then, a voice.

"baby?"

satoru.

your heart stopped, then raced. it was him. the way he said your name, the way his voice carried through the room—you had missed it more than words could express. before you could think, you jumped out of bed and ran straight into his arms, clutching him as if he might disappear again.

he hugged you back just as tightly.

"where… where the hell were you?! you don’t know how worried i was, how much i cried! i thought you were—"

his lips met yours, silencing your frantic words with a soft peck.

"now, now," he murmured against you, his tone laced with that familiar teasing warmth. "i’m here, and that’s all that matters, pretty."

you pouted, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest, holding him closer. but then your fingers brushed against something different—a rougher patch of skin around his stomach.

a scar.

your breath hitched. "how did you..."

he turned away slightly, avoiding your gaze. guilty. he didn’t want to talk about it.

so you didn’t push.

instead, he gently eased you back onto the bed, his lips finding yours again, slow and deliberate.

"i was this close to dying," he murmured between kisses, trailing from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck. "but i remembered you were waiting at home for me..." his words sent a shiver down your spine as his kisses grew deeper, needier.

"and i decided that heaven could wait."

you let out a breathless giggle, threading your fingers through his white locs."you think you’re going to heaven?" you teased, tugging playfully at his hair. "what a joke."

swiftly, he unbuttoned the blouse you had on and grabbed a handful of your breast, massaging it gently while sucking and nibbling on your neck to create a colorful bruise. sweet moans of his name slid out of between your lips against your will and he simply smirked at them.

"I know you cried, and I know you were cold," his eyes bored into yours, "but now that I'm here, I promise I won't ever leave again." and this time, you're the one that closed the space between your lips. you knew that his promise wasn't true at all, but you decided to ignore that fact and let yourself believe it for the span of a single night. in the heat of the moment, your hand slid down his chest and onto his pelvis, before sneaking its way into his pants, stroking his erection sensually.

satoru moaned into your mouth before taking this bold action of yours as a sign to give you pleasure aswell, his hand rubbing your pussy through your thin panties. "Oh shit- yeah, just like that, 'toru.." your head fell to the side as his hand slid into your panties, rubbing up and down your slit to collect some of your wetness before rubbing tight and quick circles onto your clit, making you needily clench around nothing.

meanwhile, your hand was still skillfully rubbing his cock, thumb rubbing on his tip making him jolt up from the sudden intense pleasure. satoru bit his lip before penetrating you with two of his digits, making you gasp in utter shock and awe. your breath followed the rhythm of his fingers that he pumped in and out of you, as you sped up the speed of your own hand.

as expected, you felt orgasm build up pretty quickly, and as you were of the edge of climaxing, you stopped him. "stop, stop! 'toru, stop it," and he quickly halted his movements, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort or pain. "I'm sorry baby, did I hurt you? I'm so fucking sorry, fuck-" you interrupted him, "no honey, I just..." you bit the inside of your cheek, "after all this time, I wanna cum on your dick, not your fingers..." and you felt his cock twitch at your words. he stared at you in shock before his expression turned into a lustful smile.

and before you even realized it, he had taken your hand out of his pants, before taking said pants off along with your panties in a span of a second. impressive.

"you know baby," he rubbed up and down your slit with the tip of his cock, "even though I won't go to heaven, I'll make sure you do," he aligned his tip with your entrance. "what do you mean?" he pressed a quick kiss against your lips. "I'll take you there myself." and with that, he bottomed out inside you in one swift motion.

your jaw dropped and you instinctively closed your eyes to embrace the familiar sensation of him inside you, but he tapped your cheek with his finger to get your attention. "eyes on me love." and so you obliged, opening your eyes to be met with an expression that seemed to be the results of a love and lust mix.

the sound of his hops meeting yours over and over again made you delirious along with the sensation of his cock claiming your insides and the intense eye contact you held with satoru. at some point, satoru can't hold in anymore—he whines and moans into your ear, whispering confessions such as "fuck– I love you too much, baby-" and "I missed this so bad... holy shit, yeah- I need this- oh fuck, yeah.." which did nothing but turn you on even more.

your hand went straight to your clit to rub it when you felt your orgasm building up again. satoru chased your high as much as you did, using his six eyes to hit all those gummy spots that made you see stars. "fuck- m'cumming, m'cumming!" you couldn't hold back your voice as your orgasm crashed over you without a warning. you struggled to keep your eyes on him as you twitched and shook with the intensity of the orgasm, as it had been weeks since you deemed yourself worthy enough to feel pleasure.

satoru's orgasm followed suit, shooting long ropes of cum into your womb, as your tight grip pulled strings of moans of your name out of his mouth.

as you both calmed down, satoru pulled his cock out and flopped on his back next to you.

a comfortable silence fell upon the both of you before you broke it, "you know," he hummed in acknowledgement, "you were right." his head whips to the side to look at you, who was already turned towards him. "what about?", you smiled, looking at the ceiling, "you did take me to heaven, after all."

you crawled on top of him to kiss his scar, making him feel a bit tingly. he patted your head, "and I'd do it all over again just for you, love."

[padf-0-ot]

sypnosis. a queen waits for the return of the man who promised he would always come back. her lover, who disappeared years ago chasing an adventure only he could see. the court demands a king, and suitors press in, but she remains unmoved, weaving a shroud of time until he returns. then, a challenge: whoever can string her betrothed’s bow and fire an arrow through twelve battle-axes will claim the throne. the suitors fail, but the beggar steps forward, rook, disguised. the bow bends, the arrow flies true, and rook stands before her, alive, and home at last.

note. i was listening to “the challenge” and thought of rook, stupidly enough cause of the bow & i immediately thought of “rook would love this” but you get it ^^’’ !!! immediate apologies if it may seem ooc, or off grammar (unfortunately, english isn’t my first language)

𝕿He. . . loom stretches before you, a seemingly endless web of threads that twine and twist in complex patterns. It feels like an impossible task, one you can never quite complete. Each morning, your fingers move with purpose, the rhythmic motion of weaving pulling you deeper into the task, a desperate distraction from the ache in your chest. Each night, when the rest of the castle has drifted into slumber, you return to the loom to unravel the threads, as if in some way, that will erase the time that’s passed — the time that you’ve been forced to endure without him. They do not know. The suitors who fill your court like hungry wolves — bright smiles and velvet robes hiding the sharp edges of ambition — believe you are near the end, that soon, you will choose a new king.

But you are still his.

He left you years ago, chasing a challenge that only he could see. The great hunter, the man who had seen beauty in every fleeting moment, had sworn to return. His final words still echo in your memory: “Mon amour,” he had whispered, breath warm against your temple, hands pressing over yours. “I leave not for adventure, but for the promise of coming home to you. What is love, if not the patience to wait?”

But patience is cruel, and faith wears thin when it is constantly tested by the long silence between you. The world does not stop spinning while you wait for a man who might never return. You have held your breath for years, hoping against hope that the promise he left you would hold true, but as the days turn into months, and the months into years, you begin to wonder if perhaps the sea has swallowed him whole.

The kingdom stirs. The whispers grow louder each day. It has been too long. He is gone. A queen cannot rule alone forever, they say. And so they press closer, thousands of men draped in velvet and gold, smiles dripping with false sweetness, eyes gleaming with greed. They speak of duty, of stability. They speak of the future.

But what of the past?

The love you held for Rook is not something fragile that can be traded away. It is not a thing to be bartered like the throne you sit upon. And yet, the court grows impatient, the vultures circling, waiting for their moment to swoop in.

“Your Majesty,” one of them says, his voice smooth as silk, his hand lingering too long on the armrest of your throne. “The throne needs a king.“

“A nation without a ruler is weak,” another murmurs, his eyes glinting with something more dangerous than mere concern. “Choose, and we will grant you peace.”

Peace? How.. humourous. As if the love you hold for Rook could ever be bought, as if it were something to be sacrificed to ease their hunger. As if you are not the woman who has held the kingdom together, the queen who ruled with strength and wisdom while he was lost to the world. But they do not understand. They never have.

Still, they will not stop.

So, you buy yourself time. But, is it for yourself?

“I will choose,” you say, your voice steady, betraying none of the chaos inside. “As soon as I finish weaving this shroud.”

They believe you. And so, the cycle continues.

Day after day, you sit at the loom, hands moving with mechanical precision, the rhythm of the work a small comfort in a world that no longer makes sense. You tell yourself that you will be free once it is finished, that once you have completed the task, you can let go. But every night, you return to unravel the work of the day, pulling the threads free, watching the promise of completion slip away like sand through your fingers.

And unexpectedly, the storm will come by.

Huh, the weather today.. seems peculiar. I wonder.

You thought, the sky today looks unlike anything you have ever seen, dark clouds gathering on the horizon, the sea thrashing wildly as though it too were in mourning. The wind howls, rattling the castle walls, and in the darkness of that night, something shifts in the air, a whisper, a possibility. Could it be—?

No.

But still, there is a flicker of something. Was it hope? Something that makes your pulse quicken, something that stirs in your chest and makes your breath catch in your throat.

You do not sleep that night. The next morning, the court is restless, but you do not care. Another suitor has arrived. You barely glance up at first, prepared for the same hollow flattery, the same empty promises they have all offered. Another face, another man desperate for the throne. And then—

“Your Majesty.”

The voice is low, rich, unmistakably familiar.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

You lift your gaze, and the breath leaves your lungs.

There, standing before you in the grand hall, disguised as nothing more than a beggar? A tattered cloak hanging from his shoulders, boots caked in dust, golden hair hidden beneath a hood, is him.

Rook.

“Mon amour,” he breathes, and it is neither a plea nor a question. It is a vow renewed, a promise fulfilled.

The court does not understand why your fingers clutch the armrests of your throne, why your breath trembles in your throat. They do not understand the weight of this moment, the storm that has raged inside you for years, breaking now into sunlight.

But they will.

“A challenge,” you announce, your voice ringing out through the hall, silencing the murmur of voices. “The one who can string my betrothed’s bow and fire an arrow through twelve battle-axes shall take the throne beside me.”

The suitors laugh. They know the stories of Rook’s war bow — the weapon only he had ever been able to wield.

The bow itself, was a testament to strength, a mark of kingship, a relic of a past only one man could claim. Crafted long before his reign, it was a thing of unyielding power, curved in a perfect arc. Only he can wield.

One by one, they step forward, pride on their faces, convinced that they, too, can master the impossible. One by one, they fail. The bow does not bend to their hands. The string does not yield. Each failure cracks their pride, their frustration mounting as they realize that they are not Rook.

And then, the beggar steps forward. The court erupts into laughter.

“Surely, Your Majesty, you do not mean to let this vagrant attempt—”

But you do not stop him. You do not move, barely even breathe as he steps forward, his hands brushing against the polished wood of the bow, a deep, knowing silence settling over the room.

With a swift movement, the bow bends. The string sings its familiar song as he draws it taut, the echo of it resonating through your very bones. You can feel the air shift, the energy in the room snapping like a taut wire.

The arrow flies.

The sound of it is pure. Sharp and true, slicing through the air with deadly precision. It whistles cleanly through each of the twelve axes, the force of it a declaration. A promise.

Silence.

And then, he lifts his head. The hood falls away.

Rook stands before you, golden-haired and smiling, as if no time at all had passed. As if he had never left.

You take a step forward, your breath catching in your throat, but you do not move too quickly, afraid that he might vanish as suddenly as he appeared.

“You’re late,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it carries through the silence like a blade.

Rook’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling with the same wild fire you remember. “Ah, mon amour,” he breathes. “But I am here.”

And then, he kneels before you.

The years between you crash down like a tidal wave, the weight of everything you’ve endured settling heavily upon your chest. You do not hesitate. You move toward him, your hands trembling as they find his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheek. He leans into your touch, eyes closing for a moment, as if memorizing the feel of you, the texture of your skin beneath his fingers.

“I should kill you for making me wait,” you whisper, your voice breaking with the ache of all that has been lost and found again.

“And yet,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “you have never looked more beautiful than you do now, in your fury.”

You let out a breath, half a sob, half a laugh. But it is enough. It is everything. You pull him to you, your lips crashing against his, desperate and alive, the years of longing melting into this single, fleeting moment.

The court watches, but you do not care. The suitors recoil, but you do not see them. There is only Rook. his hands in your hair, his arms around you, the warmth of him solid and real after all these years. When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours, and the world is suddenly right again.

“You came back,” you whisper, a question, a plea, a confession.

“Always,” he swears, his voice rough and raw. “I will always find my way back to you.” This time, you believe him.

That night, the castle breathes with a new kind of silence. The suitors have left, some in anger, others in shame, their ambitions shattered like glass beneath the weight of inevitability. The whispers of the court fade into the distant hum of the sea, and for the first time in years, you are alone.

But you are not lonely.

Rook stands before you in your chambers, no longer the beggar who had slipped unnoticed through the doors, but the hunter who had once stolen your heart with laughter and reckless devotion. He is older now —sharper in some places, softened in others — but when he smiles, it is the same as it ever was. Wild and knowing, like he has already mapped out every thought in your head before you can voice it.

And yet, for the first time since his return, he hesitates.

“You are staring, mon amour.” His voice is lighter now, teasing, but underneath it, there is something else. Something unspoken.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. “You disappeared for years, Rook. Forgive me if I wish to confirm that you are not merely a ghost come to haunt me.”

His lips twitch. “And if I were?”

“Then I would curse you for eternity,” you say, stepping closer, until only a breath separates you. “And still, I would not let you leave.”

The teasing falters in his expression, giving way to something raw, something that makes your pulse thunder in your ears. His hands, calloused and sure, come up to cradle your face, his thumb ghosting over the curve of your cheek. “I was gone too long,” he admits, a confession, a wound.

“Yes.”

“I have no excuse.”

“No.”

His fingers tighten, the breath in his chest shuddering. “And yet—” He swallows, eyes burning gold in the candlelight. “Would you still have me, knowing that I am a man who loses himself in the hunt?”

Your breath catches. Not because you do not know the answer, but because he would even dare to ask.

You take his hand, pressing his palm flat against your chest, where your heart beats strong and steady. “You left,” you say. “And I waited. And I cursed you. And I wept for you. And still—” You inhale, exhale, let the weight of the years settle between you before crushing them beneath your next words. “Still, my heart knows only your name.”

Rook lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, but it is too broken, too relieved to be anything but the unraveling of something long-held. “Then it seems,” he murmurs, leaning in, his forehead pressing against yours, “I have found my way home after all.”

He kisses you, it is not with the desperation of before. It is steady, certain. It is the promise he made you all those years ago, at last fulfilled.

© 2025 padf-0-ot . i only post in this app ^ᴗ^

[useless-catalanfacts]

POV: you try speaking your language in your country.

This is the video (I have added English subtitles) posted by a Mallorcan man on Twitter, showing an experience that many of us have had. The man went to a gas station and when he went up to pay, he politely asked in the language of the land (Mallorcan Catalan). The cashier answered telling him to speak Spanish. The Mallorcan man said "I will say it slowly in both, this way you can learn it". He proceeded to say the numbers first in Catalan and then in Spanish. A second gas station worker came to him and started threatening him for speaking Catalan: "I'm going to kick your face", "I'm going to hit you so hard I'll leave you on the floor", "[you must speak Spanish because] this is Spain and that's it".

This is a common experience for Catalan speakers. Even in our own country, we can face violent threats, humiliation, and laughter for speaking the local language instead of Spanish. Even doctors routinely refuse to treat Catalan-speaking patients because they're Catalan speakers, and people have been kicked out of almost every kind of business you can imagine for speaking Catalan. When this happens in Spain outside our country, it's humiliating enough (for example: my grandmother and her friend, who are both daughters of people who moved from Southern Spain, went to visit their parent's hometown some years ago and got kicked out of a café because the other clients heard them and started shouting, they thought they were going to hit them, and the café owner came out to shout at them to get out because they don't want Catalans there) but you can more or less avoid it by not going there, but when it happens in our own country, where else are we supposed to go? If we can't speak our language in our hometown, are we just supposed to disappear?

In Barcelona (Catalonia's capital city), the 4th most reported cause of discrimination and hate crime is speaking Catalan. And that's considering that Catalan speakers rarely report these kind of events (I myself have never reported it before) while other collectives have been working a lot to report their discrimination cases and have specific places that help them do so and give them protection, like the LGBTQI+ community and migrant communities. Even then, statistics for hate crimes show the 4th reason for being hate crimed in Catalonia's capital city is speaking Catalan. And we can all be sure those numbers are nowhere near the truth of the problem.

In the Balearic Islands, discrimination is on the rise, and it's officially supported by the far-right regional government. But even though it has more legal support now, it's not new. (For example: I went to visit my friends from Mallorca years before the far-right was elected and they already got huge letters spray painted at the entrance of the town saying "Catalan pigs we'll hang you all" and they often got shouted at for similar reasons).

It's so tiring. We only want to be normal and have the same rights, to not have to face hate for our language and culture; but when we explain what happens to us and try to get Spanish people to understand that it's not good, most of them only make fun of it because they believe it's right and that it was our fault for "imposing" our public presence in the first place. Why is it so difficult to understand that we should also have the right to exist in public? Why are we always made to feel we are so annoying and disgusting? It is the people getting this angry over someone speaking the language of the place they live in who have a disproportionate amount of hatred and anger, it should be them to apologize.

[societyfolklore]

Plus One – Consequence

Title: Plus One – Consequence

Pairing: Loki x SHEILD Agent!Female Reader

Summary:  Loki wants to be 'of use' and is assigned to be your partner on a mission. But that's not the only thing he's focused on. He's done waiting, this time he wants his answer.

Word Count: 6.6k (It got big… but plot though!)

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, smut, fingering, Unprotected sex, No beta read.

A/N: Part 1 and Part 2  (this is the finally.. I think.. maybe..probably)  BIG thank you to  @angelremnants for helping me out with this

You had been left alone since the incident in the library, no sign of Loki, and for once, you told yourself it was for the best. You were fine- better off, even. It wasn’t as if you had been waiting for him to reappear, looking over your shoulder at every flicker of green light, or catching yourself searching rooms as if expecting him to be there. No, you weren’t missing him. Not at all.

Still, suspicion gnawed at you over his absence. Loki wasn’t the type to simply disappear without a reason, and while you should have been relieved, something about it felt... wrong. Like he had been deliberately keeping his distance. Was he playing some new game? Or had he simply grown bored of you?

You forced the thoughts away, refusing to entertain them further. You had more important things to focus on. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself-until you were suddenly called in for a meeting.

Thor and Fury. That was an unusual combination. Your missions rarely overlapped with Thor, and the fact that he was involved at all made your stomach twist with unease. You had told yourself you didn’t miss Loki. That you weren’t waiting for him. But now, sitting here, the realization hit you harder than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was just... wishful thinking?

Thor sat forward, his massive frame somehow managing to take up more space than the chair should allow, his expression a mixture of determination and pride. “Loki has expressed a desire to be more ‘of use,’” he began, his tone firm yet encouraging. “And after speaking with the Director, it has been decided that Loki shall be joining you on your next mission. You know a trail run of things."

"Excuse me?" You looked between the God and your Director. "Tell me he's joking.."

Fury leaned back in his chair, ignoring your clear objections, his single eye fixed on Thor with a skeptical intensity. “He’s your brother Thor and I respect that, Loki appears to want to make amends but that doesn't mean he gets to just 'jump in' he has to prove we can see him as an ally ” Fury said, his voice calm but edged with steel. “His is guy who tried to level New York.”

Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t falter. “Loki is a proven warrior and strategist,” he said. “He has fought beside me countless times and, while his methods may be unorthodox, his results are undeniable. He is motivated to prove himself.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of Thor’s words settling in. Motivated was one way to describe Loki, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for the right reasons. Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting for Fury’s response.

Fury tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully before turning his attention to you. “And what’s your take on this? You’ll be working closest with him. You comfortable with that?”

You hesitated, feeling both pairs of eyes on you.

“Comfortable might be too strong a word,” you admitted, keeping your tone professional. “But I trust Thor’s judgment, and if Loki’s abilities can give us an edge on this mission, I’ll make it work, better it just be me he scre-" You couldn't even bring yourself to say it. "Better it's me he stabs in the back then have the whole team go down with him."

Thor gave you a small nod of gratitude, clearly deciding not hear your backhanded comments about his brother, all while Fury studied you for a moment longer before speaking.

“Fine. But let’s be clear about something: if he so much as hints at going off-script, it’s on you to rein him in. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said firmly, though the thought sent a flicker of doubt through you. Reining Loki in was a task easier said than done.

Thor exhaled, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor.

“You will not regret this decision,” he said confidently. “Loki will not disappoint us.”

Fury didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between you and Thor before he finally stood. “Let’s hope not. Because if he does, I’ll make sure we’re not having this conversation again. I'll order him off world and back to Asgard.” With that, he strode out of the room, leaving the two of you alone with the gravity of the situation.

Thor turned to you, his expression softening. “Thank you for your faith in this, even if it’s tentative. Loki’s journey will not be easy, but I believe he is capable of great things.”

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach remained. “Let’s hope he believes that too,” you said quietly, already bracing yourself for the challenges ahead.

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Darling,” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through the charged silence like a blade. You turned your head sharply, catching the faint shimmer of green light in the corner of the room. Loki stepped forward from the shadows, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the monitors. His smirk was as maddening as ever, exuding a confidence that bordered on outright arrogance. “It will be... enlightening.”

Thor’s posture stiffened, his voice immediately dropping into a warning tone. “Loki, I told you to wait outside.”

Loki waved a dismissive hand, the motion languid and unconcerned. “Oh, come now, brother. I was merely curious to hear the verdict of my fate. Surely you can’t fault me for wanting to be... informed.”

Thor’s expression darkened, a rare flicker of frustration slipping past his usual composure. “If Fury finds out-”

“He didn't even notice.” Loki interrupted smoothly, his icy blue gaze flicking to you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken uncomfortably. “I doubt anything I say now would surprise him. Besides,” he added, his tone softening into something almost thoughtful, “I suspect our dear Agent here prefers knowing exactly what they’re getting into.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you refused to take the bait.

“What I’d prefer,” you said evenly, keeping your tone professional despite the simmering irritation, “is for you to follow orders. Starting now.”

Loki chuckled, the sound low and rich, like velvet wrapped around steel.

“Oh, I fully intend to follow orders, I do enjoy making sure your satisfied with my performance” he said, his smirk widening slightly. “But forgive me if I indulge in a little... curiosity. It’s not every day one gets the chance to prove their worth under such delightful scrutiny.”

Thor stepped between you and his brother, his towering frame blocking Loki’s view as his voice dropped into something firmer. “Enough, Loki. Prove your worth through action, not theatrics.”

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering. “As you wish, dear brother,” he said lightly, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. He stepped back but didn’t leave entirely, lingering just long enough to cast one last glance your way.

“I’ll see you at the jet then Agent,” Loki murmured, the promise in his voice unmistakable, before disappearing in a swirl of green light. "Don’t be late..”

Thor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will be... a challenge.”

You couldn’t help but agree, though a part of you suspected Loki’s presence was about to make things more than just challenging-it was going to make them impossible to forget.

The HYDRA facility loomed ahead, its sleek lines cutting through the forest like a blade. The metallic sheen of its exterior caught the moonlight, giving it an eerie, otherworldly aura. Loki walked beside you, his presence both magnetic and maddening. Despite the weight of the mission, he seemed utterly at ease, his movements fluid, his expression one of quiet amusement.

“Try not to get us caught,” you muttered, scanning the perimeter through your scope. The darkened forest was alive with distant sounds-rustling leaves, faint chirps, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

“Darling, please,” Loki replied, his tone dripping with mock hurt. “I am the very definition of discretion.” He smirked, tilting his head to regard you with those piercing blue eyes. “Although, if you’d rather admire my talents from afar, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Your talents aren’t exactly why I’m here,” you retorted sharply, though you couldn’t entirely suppress the warmth rising in your cheeks.

“Oh? And here I thought I was your favourite Asgardian,” he quipped, falling into step just behind you. “You do seem rather fixated on me lately.”

You ignored him, motioning for him to follow. Loki’s illusions cloaked your approach, turning you into shifting shadows that passed unnoticed by the guards patrolling the perimeter. His magic hummed faintly in the air, a reminder of the power he wielded with infuriating ease. Every so often, you caught the faintest flicker of light from his hands, the only sign of the enchantments he was weaving.

Inside, the server room was sterile and cold, lined with blinking terminals and an unsettling hum of machinery. Loki conjured a shimmering barrier at the door, sealing you inside and masking your presence. The faint green glow of his magic illuminated his sharp features, making him look almost otherworldly.

“Efficient,” you admitted grudgingly as you began downloading the data. The whir of the transfer filled the room, the only sound aside from Loki’s deliberate footsteps.

“Praise from you? How unexpected,” he murmured, leaning casually against a terminal. His voice was quieter now, almost reflective. “You’ve been remarkably tense, Agent. Shall we discuss it?”

“No.”

“Ah, deflection.” He crossed his arms, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “You can’t hide it forever, you know. That… spark between us.”

You turned sharply, glaring at him. “This isn’t the time.”

“But there will be a time,” he countered smoothly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken intent. “Admit it, darling. You find me… intriguing.”

Before you could respond, alarms blared. Loki’s barrier flickered as HYDRA’s countermeasures overloaded it. Red lights bathed the room in an ominous glow as the door burst open, and armed agents poured in, their weapons trained on you.

“Ah, and here I thought we might avoid theatrics,” Loki said dryly, his hands already glowing with magic as he stepped in front of you. “Shall we?”

Things had been going well. You and Loki had managed to sneak into the HYDRA facility undetected, extracted the necessary files, and were making your way out. It had almost seemed too easy. But then, chaos erupted. Loki moved with lethal grace, his illusions scattering the agents as he cast bolts of searing magic. His movements were fluid, a dance of power and precision, and for a moment, it seemed as though he thrived in the chaos. You fired with equal determination, covering his blind spots with sharp efficiency. It was almost seamless-until one guard managed to fire a well-aimed blast directly at Loki.

The energy struck him square in the chest, sending him reeling backward. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. "Go," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both pain and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snapped, catching his arm as you fired another shot with your free hand. You needed cover-fast.

“This is hardly the time to argue,” Loki grunted, his weight pressing into you as you pulled him behind a crumbling support beam. “But you do seem to enjoy things happening in public places..”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, breathless, scanning the space for an exit. “You could have just let me take the hit.”

Loki scoffed, despite the pain evident in his stance. “Yes, well, call me sentimental.”

You huffed, pushing him down against the wall as you checked his wound. “Sentimental, my ass. You’re just trying to prove a point.” "And pray tell? What point might that be?" Loki hand was still pressed into where he'd taken the hit though it seemed not to effect his sharp wit in anyway.  "That I need you."  You were glowered, but a slow, dangerous glint flicked in his eyes. 

“Darling, if I wanted to prove that point, you’d be on your knees by now,” he murmured with a pained smirk.

You glared at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Shut up.”. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. “Go,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both discomfort and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Not without you,” you snapped, the words coming out harsher than you intended as adrenaline coursed through you. You grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet as you fired at the remaining guards with one hand. His weight leaned heavily against you, and you could feel the tremor in his body as he struggled to regain his composure. Guilt gnawed at you with every step; he had shielded you without hesitation, and now he was paying the price.

You practically dragged Loki into the nearest hiding spot-a disused stairwell, the walls damp and cold from years of neglect. It wasn’t much, but it would give his magic time to work, to let his body stitch itself back together while you caught your breath.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his usual cocky grace slightly dulled, but his smirk remained infuriatingly intact. The dim lighting of the stairwell cast sharp shadows across his features, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more vividly. You knelt beside him, pressing your hand against the wound to gauge how bad it was, but before you could fully assess it, his fingers curled around your wrist, halting your movements with a surprising gentleness.

His grip was firm but not forceful, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist in a way that sent an unexpected shiver through you. "Why is it that you recoil at the idea of needing me?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost contemplative. "Be it in battle or in your bed, you seem to find the notion unbearable."

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. "This isn't about that. You took a hit, and I need to make sure you don't bleed out before your magic kicks in."

"Ah, deflection," Loki mused, his grip tightening slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "It's a fascinating thing to watch. You insist I mean nothing, yet here you are, hands trembling as you touch me. Tell me, darling-what are you so afraid of?"

Your pulse hammered in your throat, but you yanked your hand free, glaring at him. "We are not having these conversations now, and why are you talking like I'm the problem? The library happened, and you've been MIA since..." Your voice trailed off, frustration tightening in your chest. You weren’t sure why it stung-why it felt like a betrayal that he had disappeared after that afternoon.

Loki’s smirk faltered just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face. He held your gaze for a long moment, searching, and then, with a slow exhale, that insufferable confidence slid back into place.

"And yet, here we are," he murmured, tilting his head, voice like silk and steel. "Tell me, darling-why does it sound like you mind? Miss me did you?" 

Loki only smirked, though there was something softer behind his usual arrogance, something dangerously close to hope. “Dogs don't miss fleas,” you snapped, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Loki’s smirk wavered. Just for a second, so quickly you almost missed it. Then, something colder took its place, an expression you hadn’t seen before. Not irritation, not amusement-hurt.

“Oh,” he said, his voice losing some of its playfulness, a dangerous undercurrent forming beneath. “I see, so you do want to be a bitch then.” "What's that supposed to mean?"  You looked at him hurt feeling stabbing at her chest, he didn't get to call you names.  His arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze darkened as he took a slow step back. “You let me touch you, taste you, fuck you-and now I’m just something to be discarded? A game you can play when it suits you, but when the pieces stop falling in your favor, I’m nothing more than a parasite?”

Your breath hitched, stunned at the venom in his voice. “Loki-”

He scoffed. “No, please. Enlighten me.” His tone was sharp now, edged with something almost bitter. “What am I to you, exactly? Because you seem to enjoy having me when no one’s watching. But the moment we step into the light, I become inconvenient, don’t I?”

His words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Because there was truth to them. You had pushed him away, compartmentalized your moments together, told yourself they didn’t mean anything. But standing here now, faced with the rawness in his voice, you realized-

It mattered to him.

The memory of his words in the library resurfaced, unbidden: A chance to be what you need. You hadn’t given it the weight it deserved at the time, hadn’t let yourself. But now, with his piercing gaze locked on yours, demanding an answer you weren’t ready to give, it was impossible to ignore.

Loki exhaled sharply, shaking his head, as if disgusted with himself for letting this moment happen. His next words came quieter, but with even more weight.

“You think I don’t want you? That each of our encounters hasn't left me wanting, haunted, in need of you?” His voice dropped lower, edged with frustration, but there was something else beneath it now, something raw. "You doubt me? Yet here I am injured on your behalf. Playing hero, trying to be better, all so you might be willing to take what I can offer out of the shadows."

The intensity in his voice sent a tremor down your spine. He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his tone shifting to something almost desperate. “You think I toy with you?” he murmured, voice a quiet rasp. “Do you know how insufferable it is-to crave something I cannot have?”

And then he kissed you. Push in against you, his body pushing you into the floor. Mission almost entirely forgotten in this moment. The dirt of the stairwell scrapping at the leather of your suit. 

It was nothing like the teasing, taunting brushes of lips you'd had before. This was different. Fierce. Possessive. A demand and a question all at once. And you-

You didn’t stop him.

Your fingers curled into the leather of his suit, pulling him closer, because this time, there was no use pretending you didn’t want this too. Didn’t want him.

His hands slid down to your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise as he pressed you back against the wall. The tension, the heat, the hunger-it all snapped, unraveling in a desperate collision of mouths and hands.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I won’t be your secret anymore,” he whispered, the words more declaration than threat. “Not after this.”

Your heart pounded, the weight of what he was saying crashing over you. But before you could respond, the distant sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment. You were on your feet, your rifle already raised. It was time to get out of this hell hole. They’re finish this conversation later, right now both had to get out, making sure Loki could stay on his feet, you started down the stairs. 

Waiting at the extraction point for the quinjet to collect the pair of you. The safehouse was barely more than a disused, abandoned guard station. Neither of you had really spoken since the hall, unless it was to bark instructions or warnings at the other. No witty jabs, none of Loki’s usual sharp, flirty comments. Just silence that filled up the space-it felt suffocating.

Loki sat against the cold wall, one knee bent, arms resting loosely, but his gaze never left you. His silence was not his usual brooding arrogance-it was something else. Something more calculated, restrained.

“Do you regret it?” he finally asked, breaking the quiet with a voice almost too soft to be his. A whisper, but one that carried weight, making your chest tighten.

“Regret what?” you asked cautiously, though you knew exactly what he meant. Your voice was quieter now, the usual edge replaced by uncertainty.

“This. Us,” Loki said, his gaze locking onto yours with disarming intensity. “Every time you let me closer, you pull away twice as hard. Why?”

You tensed, your body stiffening instinctively as if preparing for a fight, but the words wouldn’t come. How could they? How could you put into words the war raging in your mind? The sheer impossibility of what you felt for him?

Loki exhaled, shaking his head as if he was already resigned to your silence. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration. His voice turned sharp, his patience worn thin.

“Why is it so hard for you to accept this?” he asked, his voice rougher now. “That I want you. That you want me.”

You stiffened, shaking your head as you tried to step back, but he followed. “It’s not that simple.”

Loki scoffed. “Oh, but it is. You just refuse to admit it.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. “You act as though I have no hold over you, yet you let me in. Over and over again. You let me touch you, you crave it, and then you run the moment it becomes too real.”

“That’s not true.”

“Liar.” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration barely contained. “God of Lies remember? You think I don’t see it? The way you hesitate, yet you still reach for me?”

His words struck deep, rattling you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction-but then his hands were on you, dragging you into another kiss, this one more desperate, more forceful.

You shoved at him, breathless, but he barely moved. “Loki-”

“Stop pretending,” he bit out, his grip tightening. “You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

Something inside you snapped. With a growl of frustration, you pushed him back, eyes burning with defiance. “You don’t get to tell me what I think.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but it was different now, something darker curling at the edges of his lips. “Oh, but I do.”

And then he kissed you again, all heat and frustration and something dangerous. This time, you didn’t pull away.. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration.

“You fight me at every turn,” he murmured, leaning forward just slightly. “You let me in-your body, your mind-and then you pretend none of it matters. That I don’t matter.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh, isn’t it?” His voice sharpened, and for the first time tonight, the intensity in his gaze turned molten, heated with something far too raw. “Stop pretending. You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

His words struck deep, reverberating through you like a blow, because they weren’t entirely wrong.

“I don’t-”

“You don’t what?” Loki cut in, moving fluidly to his feet, stepping into your space. “You don’t want me? You don’t crave me, even now?” His voice dropped lower, barely a breath between you. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering as his fingers brushed against your wrist. A touch so simple, yet it burned like a brand.

“Why are you so resistant to this?” he demanded, voice a rough whisper. “To me? To us?”

Because it was dangerous. Because it was Loki. Because you weren’t sure who you were when he was around.

But the words never left your lips.

Loki scoffed, shaking his head as if he finally understood something you didn’t. And then-

Then he kissed you.

It was the same as before.  His pure frustration, desperation, and need colliding all at once. A battle neither of you had the will to fight anymore. His hands gripped your arms, pushing you back until you felt the cold wall at your back, caging you in without escape.

And the worst part? You didn’t want to escape.

Your hands came up his chest onto his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, like you needed to drown in him just to survive this.

Then, just as suddenly, you shoved him back.

Breathing hard, your hands still curled into his clothes, you stared at him-at the mess he had made of you.

Loki’s chest rose and fell in sharp movements, his pupils blown wide. And then, his lips curled, but there was no arrogance in his expression. Just something deeper.

“You can keep running,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “But we both know how this ends.” Loki took steps towards you. 

“You’re insufferable,” you managed, though your voice trembled more than you’d like.

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back smoothly, his tone teasing but heavy with intent.

The moment stretched taut, and though you knew you should push him away, the pull of his proximity was overwhelming. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Just say the word,” Loki murmured, his voice a silken promise as his lips hovered achingly close to yours. "I can be what you need." His voice sounded more like a plea than a promise as his hand brushed over your cheek, pushing stray hairs away. "Imagine it, everything I could give you..." His breath on your cheeks as he whispered made your heart race. "You've only just sampled the things I can do, for you, with you."

His fingers traced lightly along the column of your throat, lingering just beneath your chin as if daring you to pull away. His touch was slow, deliberate, the cool press of his fingertips sending a shiver skittering down your spine.

"Are you worried your friends will judge?" he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. His other hand moved to the zipper of your suit, teasingly dragging it down just enough to expose the sensitive skin at your collarbone. "None of them have perfect pasts. Why do they get the chance to make amends, yet you dismiss me?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "It's not the same, Loki."

"Isn't it?" He pressed, his fingers toying with the buckle of your utility belt slowly undoing it.  You barely registered it hitting the floor. "You think me irremediable-is that it? Or do you just like the idea of walking on the darker side but refuse to admit it?"

Your pulse thundered against your ribs. His words cut too close, slipping through the cracks of your defenses like tendrils of smoke. You should stop him, but instead, you stood entranced, helpless against the way his touch made your body burn.

Loki's smirk softened into something more knowing, more dangerous. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing, testing. "You're not as pure or righteous as you like to pretend," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. His finger pulling the zipper down  to your stomach.  "We all dwell in the grey."

His hand slid down, fingers grazing the curve of your waist before settling on your hip. With agonizing patience, he traced the seam of your suit, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make your breath hitch. "You make this idea of heroism not seem like such a folly. Can't you see I need you too?" His voice dipped lower, dark with something deeper than seduction-something raw. "You make me want to be better, and that terrifies me more than anything."

Your breath caught, your fingers trembling where they rested against his chest. Still, you didn't push him away. His words, the weight behind them, left you teetering on the edge of something you couldn't name.

Loki’s smirk deepened as he slid his hand lower, slipping past the half-unzipped fabric of your suit. His fingers trailed over your stomach, teasing, deliberate. Then, lower still. A wicked chuckle rumbled in his throat as his palm pressed against your core, his breath hot against your cheek.

"No underwear?" he murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. "How delightfully scandalous. Like you were expecting something, or just wishful thinking?"

A flush crept up your neck, but before you could muster a retort, he pressed his fingers more firmly against you, feeling the heat, the undeniable evidence of your arousal. A pleased hum vibrated from him, his lips ghosting along delicate  of your throat.

"Don’t fight it," he purred, his mouth leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. The scrape of his teeth followed, nipping just enough to make you gasp.

Then, you felt it-long, skilled fingers slipping between your folds, teasing before one breached your entrance. A sharp gasp left you, your head tilting back against the wall as he worked you open with excruciating slowness.

"That's it, darling," Loki whispered, his voice a silk-covered blade. "Let me in."

His fingers curled, pressing deeper, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your breath hitched, the way your thighs trembled beneath his touch. His mouth trailed down the side of your throat, the scrape of his teeth sending shivers down your spine as his other hand splayed against your lower back, keeping you pinned where he wanted you.

"So conflicted." he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Going to keep pretending you don’t want this?"

A ragged gasp escaped you as he added another finger, stretching you, working you open with agonizing patience. His thumb circled your clit with infuriating slowness, teasing, coaxing, drawing out every reaction like he was savoring a masterpiece only he could create.

"You can deny it all you like," Loki purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "But your body knows the truth. It has always known."

Heat coiled in your stomach, the pressure building too fast, too much, and still, Loki took his time, dragging out every moment, every sensation until you were gasping against him, clinging to the leather of his suit as your body betrayed you.

"Let go, darling," he coaxed, his fingers pressing deeper, his pace quickening just enough to push you closer to the edge. "Let me hear you say my name. Before I ruin you properly."

But just as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight in your core, his movements slowed-then stopped entirely. A desperate whimper escaped you before you could stop it, frustration knotting in your stomach as your body trembled on the precipice of release.

Loki chuckled darkly, his breath warm against your ear. "Not yet," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers just enough to leave you aching. "Admit it, and I'll give you everything, darling. Just three words. 'I need you.' just give me the words."

Your body burned, every nerve alight with the cruel denial of release. You clenched your jaw, trying to resist, but Loki's fingers traced lazy circles against your sensitive flesh, teasing, never giving enough to push you over the edge. His other hand slid up, cupping your throat gently, his thumb tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he coaxed, his voice smooth as silk, but beneath it, there was something deeper-something raw. "You need me. Say it, and I'll make you come so hard you'll forget your own name."

Your breath hitched, your hands fisting in his leather as your body warred with your pride. The ache between your legs was unbearable, his teasing touch driving you to madness. Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but still, you held back, even as your resolve wavered dangerously.

Loki's smirk softened into something almost reverent, his fingers ghosting over your pulse. "You can keep pretending, darling. Keep fighting me. But we both know how this ends. We both know what you need."

Another flick of his fingers, another pulse of pleasure, and a strangled moan tore from your lips. Your resolve cracked, splintered under the weight of your desire. You squeezed your eyes shut, barely above a whisper as the words finally slipped free.

"I... need you."

Loki exhaled sharply, something triumphant gleaming in his gaze before his mouth crashed against yours. This time, there was nothing measured, nothing teasing. It was raw, hungry, desperate. His fingers didn’t work at your suit with the same slow deliberation as before-instead, he all but tore it from your body, the fabric peeling away under his forceful touch.

With a firm grip, he spun you, shoving you down onto the desk behind you, your palms hitting the cool surface as his body caged you in. The sound of leather and metal followed as his own clothing vanished in a shimmer of green. He pressed against you, his heat searing, his strength undeniable. His hands roamed freely now, greedy, possessive, mapping every inch of you like he was memorizing it for eternity.

“You have no idea,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, “what you do to me.”

His teeth scraped along your shoulder before he bit down, sharp and claiming, his body pressing harder against yours as his hand gripped your hip, anchoring you in place

Loki groaned, the sound deep and unrestrained, his fingers digging into your skin as he finally sank into you, filling you with a stretch that was almost too much-but god, it felt right. The noise you made was something guttural, something you hadn’t even realized you were capable of.

“Mine now,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled back, only to slam into you again, rougher this time, dragging a strangled cry from your lips.

Loki wasn’t measured now-wasn’t teasing. There was no more patience, no more waiting. He drove into you with a force that left you breathless, your nails digging into the hard surface of the desk as your body rocked beneath him.

He growled against your ear, the sound primal, raw, vibrating through your entire body. "And to think, you fought me so hard," he mused, his tone dark, nearly mocking. "Tell me, darling, was it worth resisting?"

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as he snapped his hips again, filling you to the hilt, stretching you, making you feel every inch of him.

Your body betrayed you, clenching around him, desperate for more. He felt it too, a pleased chuckle escaping him as his fingers curled tighter around your hips, holding you in place as he set a relentless pace.

“You take me so well," he praised, his lips brushing against your shoulder before his teeth sank into the sensitive skin. You gasped, your back arching, the sharp pain blending into the overwhelming pleasure. "This was how it was supposed to be. Only mine."

A wanton moan tore from both of you, the intensity of the moment swallowing everything else. Loki was everywhere-his hands gripping, his mouth marking, his body claiming you in ways you could no longer deny.

“You’re mine,” Loki growled, his voice rough with something unrestrained, something dangerous. His hands, strong and possessive, guided your hips against him, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He moved without hesitation, without restraint, his frustration from before bleeding into every punishing thrust.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding. “Say you want this.”

Your breath hitched, the pleasure clouding your mind, leaving you unable to think past the way he felt, the way he filled you, stretched you. You knew what he wanted. He wanted the words. He wanted you to say what he already knew. But pride still warred within you, even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

Loki’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t playful-it was predatory. “Say it,” he demanded again, punctuating his words with a hard thrust that sent a broken moan tumbling from your lips.

You bit down on your lip, refusing, even as your body trembled beneath him. But he wasn’t going to let you win. His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His pupils were blown wide, his expression twisted in pleasure, but beneath it was something else-something raw.

“Louder,” he growled, his movements turning desperate, relentless. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

Your resolve cracked like shattered glass. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as a cry escaped you. “I want you.”

Loki groaned, the sound primal, his pace never faltering. “Again,” he ordered, his voice rough, breathless. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust harder, deeper. “Say it again.”

Your head fell back, pleasure surging through you, consuming you whole. “I want you, Loki,” you gasped, the words breaking free before you could stop them.

His mouth was on you in an instant, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his desperation matching your own. “That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction, with possession. “Let go, darling. Let me have you.”

Your climax slammed into you, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. Your body arched into his, your fingers tightening their grip as you shattered against him. Loki followed seconds after, his name a rasped groan against your skin as he claimed you completely, utterly.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you still lingering, still pulsing.

Loki’s hands moved to cradle your face, his touch suddenly tender, reverent. “Mine,” he whispered again, but this time, there was something softer beneath the claim, something deeper.

Your chest still heaved, the aftershocks of pleasure humming through you as you met his gaze, seeing something you weren’t sure you were ready to name. This was it-your last surrender. And yet, you were still panting, still trembling, and the look in Loki’s eyes had softened, the hunger tempered with something more, something yearning.

"...Yours," you whispered, the admission slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Loki inhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening for just a moment before his features melted into something smug, but there was warmth behind it, true satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing stray strands of hair from your face with an uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers lingering along your jaw.

The moment was intimate, raw-until the coms crackled to life, shattering the quiet between you.

"ETA five minutes."

Loki sighed, his smirk returning as he tilted his head. "Better get you dressed, darling. Can't have anyone seeing what's mine now, can I?"

You felt the loss of him immediately as he pulled away, the absence of his warmth making you shiver despite the heat still simmering beneath your skin. Your limbs were heavy, still trembling as he helped you back into your suit, his touch lingering longer than necessary, almost reverent. His own attire reappeared in a flash of green, his expression shifting back into something unreadable, though you caught the satisfied gleam in his eyes.

As you both collected yourselves, he moved toward the door of the abandoned guard shed, holding it open for you. The night air was crisp as you stepped through, Loki falling into stride beside you with an ease that felt... natural.

As the quinjet descended, kicking up dust around you, you hesitated for just a moment. Then, before you could think better of it, you reached out, slowly taking his hand in yours. Loki stilled, his fingers tightening around yours just slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between you.

As the rear of the jet opened, you walked in together.

TAGs @mischiefmaker615