#it is the most enduring universe I hold close to me chest

[kyph3r]

NEW WORKOUT PLAN

trainer!namjoon x fem!reader

in which... your new trainer is hot, you're horny, and it's past closing hours

warnings: pwp, smut, use of the word "slutty", this is rlly short so be ready for a fast pace, im imagining a chubbier reader but the fic is for everyone !!!

an: just a little drabble, i was listening to the college dropout and the new work out plan played, it inspired me ;)

when your trainer walks in, you swear the world stops for a second

you just joined a new gym, it's marketing said it was rigorous and had the top trainers in the country working to get people in shape. so when a 6'2, bulky, handsome man walks into your assigned training room and says he'll be helping you work out for the next few months with the sweetest smile on his face, should you really be as surprised and horny as you are?

your first day is extremely embarrassing, you swear the universe cursed you to be the most unflexable person on earth. but your trainer, namjoon, says it's all right with a small smile and proceeds to lay you out on the ground and help you stretch. his big arms grab your thighs and pull them back until your knees hit your chest and fuck, you pray to the highest power that you aren't leaking through your tight little leggings.

"you are so tense, is everything alright?" he asks with a concerned look on his face. the hands on your thighs go higher and start gently massaging your calves as an attempt to get you to relax. it does quite the opposite. you can't tell if he's teasing you on purpose or if he is just that oblivious.

"n-no i'm fine namjoon.. i just don't stretch a lot, that's all!" you say with a tremble in your voice, trying to hold back a pleasured moan from the way he's touching you. he lets out a noise of understanding and starts bending you more.

"if that's the case then we should probably spend a lot of time stretching in our first few sessions," he looks down at you and smiles, "i don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself because you haven't stretched." the look on your face after he said that must have been very amusing, because he had to lower his head to let out a chuckle.

namjoon is an excellent trainer. he insists on doing the workouts alongside you "to make it fair" but it honestly just makes things a lot worse. by the end of the workout his voice is breathier, there's a shine of sweat all over him, and the image of a big man dripping sweat and saying your name alongside praises of "keep it up, you're doing so well" leaves you in more of a debauched state than you should be in after a work out.

by the end of the first month you're sore and very sexually frustrated. you've been trying to seduce him in any way possible, wearing the tightest work out gear you own, blinking up at him with eyes that scream "please fuck me!" any time that you can, you really give props to namjoon for being so respectful and proper during your sessions. but every once in a while his polite persona will break and he'll look at you like he wants to devour you right in there in the training room. but it will quickly go back to normal, leaving you a horny mess.

the closest you think you came to him fucking you was the yoga day, you purposely wore shorts that made your ass look amazing. he told you to do the downward dog position and you swear you heard a quiet "fuck" coming from him behind you, quickly covered with a cough. by the end of the session a blush was set high on his cheekbones and the hands around your waist positioned to check your form were gripping firmer.

by the middle of your second month, he finally breaks.

"do you know how much of a tease you've been, huh?" he questions while giving a slap to your ass. he has you pressed against the wall, backside jutting out to flush against his moving hips. his pace is ruthless, one hand holding your own above your head and the other hooking two fingers into your open mouth. "i had to endure your slutty little outfits for all these weeks, shit, take it."

you moan uncontrollably, his thrusts becoming faster as the hand in your mouth snakes down to your core, playing with your clit.

"namjoon! too much, gonna cum," you whine out, grinding your hips back onto his. he gives another slap to your ass and speeds the fingers on your clit and you're cumming, arousal squirting onto his hand and the ground. his groans become louder as he feels the mess you made and angles his head down to suck along the column of your neck.

"fuck, baby, you're so good. so good for me. just let me use you a little longer." his pace slows to shallow thrusts that feel like they hit your guts until he comes with a low moan, filling your insides.

you are both panting, sweat and cum dripping off of each other. he lays his head on your shoulder and slowly pulls out of your cunt.

"so–" he clears his throat, "would you like to go out somewhere?"

[burningcheese-merchant]

I WILL NOW BE PRESENTING MY BURNINGCHEESE EVIDENCE TO THE COURT

It is Sunday. I have free time. There are people out there who still do not ship BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. This offends me. You all must now endure Maximum Annoyance in retaliation.

Exhibit A: The description of Burning Spice's throne decor ends with this line: "Now, after tasting the sweet joy of destruction and chaos, Burning Spice Cookie sits and meditates... waiting for the perfect moment to hunt down his prey."

This is most likely referring to Golden Cheese herself. She is constantly, directly called "prey" (and also "bird") by the Wild Spices throughout the story. Burning Spice himself calls his seeking of her "the bird hunt".

Smoked Cheese also remarks at one point that Burning Spice could probably go after them whenever he wishes; he's just toying with them, watching them go. Playing cat-and-mouse.

Two things can be drawn from all of this:

Burning Spice talks about Golden Cheese so often, and calls her "bird" and "prey" so often, that his forces have adopted these nicknames he's given her and now think of her as them themselves

Burning Spice has been sitting on his throne and watching/keeping track of her for literal hours, if not even longer than that. And he does that instead of just getting up and going after her immediately because he likes watching and chasing her. (ADDITIONAL NOTE: He yells "ALL THE WAITING I'VE ENDURED... FOR THIS?!" at her later on, further proving that he's spent for-fucking-ever just thinking about her and their meeting/fight. I will address this line again later.)

Exhibit B: As soon as Golden Cheese appears within his line of sight, he stops caring about anything else. Nutmeg Tiger speaks directly to him and he completely ignores her. He does not acknowledge Smoked Cheese in any way. He does not acknowledge the Spice Swarm in any way. The entire episode, the Wild Spices are combing every inch of their territory in search of her, claiming over and over again that if they bring her to Burning Spice, he will shower them with praise and glory. But when this finally happens, when they succeed in holding her in place and stalling for time for Burning Spice to arrive, no such thing happens. Burning Spice acknowledges nothing and no one except for her. It's as if time has stopped. Like the earth has ceased to rotate on its axis. All that exists in the universe is himself and Golden Cheese.

Exhibit C: First thing he says to her is "Finally... we meet." An expression of joy and relief that he finally gets to be face-to-face with her. Second thing is calling her the thief who stole the other half of his Soul Jam. THIRD THING IS A GODDAMN COMPLIMENT.

Of all the words of tongue and pen he could have chosen to give her. The cruel insults. The petty jabs. The cocky assertion of his impending victory over her. Even a single nod and commendation of his soldiers' hard work, even in passing. Nope. No, sir. All that time he spent waiting to meet her, all the time he had to think of something to say to her, and he chooses to say "hey, you did a sweet job of beating the shit out of my general, I fucking loved it" (and he honestly said it super weird. Go back and listen to the line. Listen closely to his tone. He sounds borderline flirtatious/seductive, I swear to God)

Exhibit D: Mr. Creepshot over here starts his gacha animation doing the yin-yang pose with Golden Cheese, and the way he opens his eyes and looks at her almost makes it look like he's either trying to peek up her collar at her chest, or trying to peek up her skirt:

Look at that twinkle in his eye. The predatory grin on his face. He is ZEROED IN on her. He looks like he wants to eat her for every meal of the day (and I don't just mean literally). Jail. Immediately.

Exhibit E: He does not stop smiling ONCE during their entire interaction, from the second he shows up to the end of their fight (and then he goes back to smiling like a maniac at her soon after anyway). He is grinning at her like he's the Joker and she's his Batman (and we all know how... attached to Batman Joker is lol). He looks like this - like she - is the only fun he's had in a long, long time. He is HAPPY to see her, even in this evil, deranged way.

Exhibit F: He looks at her like this:

No man that looks at a woman like this has holy intentions, I'm telling you. Wrath's not the only sin on his mind right now. Line directly below may or may not be related :)

Exhibit G: Some of his overworld dialogue seems to allude to Golden Cheese specifically.

"I do enjoy my prey to have a little fight in them!" - he says this exact line directly to her face in the story

"Why, I, too, once had things I held dear." - He's talking to you, the player. This is something he says when you tap on him in his little lobby. But it can be argued that he's talking to Golden Cheese, as well. He might be thinking of her, referencing her specifically when he says this, because... that's her. SHE had things she held dear. Things she loved, things she lost. Things she grieves still. He knows this. He reminds her of it. He might almost be trying to acknowledge a connection with/to her, beyond them sharing the Light of Change. He was like her once. He had people he loved and lost. (Watch his interaction w/ Nutmeg Tiger in your kingdom, it'll all but tell you this.) They have a lot more in common than just a power source. Maybe he knows this. Maybe he's trying to express that, to you and to her.

"Abundance? Hah! More stuff to break..." - 555-COME-ON-NOW

"Sorry to break it to you... but nothing is eternal!" - Again, he's talking to you/us, but he could just as easily be talking to/thinking of her when he says this. Golden Cheese always championed her kingdom and her wealth as eternal. She essentially doubles down on this notion through her keeping them all alive inside a digital fantasy world. Episode 18 is literally titled "Goddess of Eternal Gold". He could be making a jab at her here.

"Cookies clinging to their little possessions... Pathetic!" and "In the end, everything becomes dust." - Double whammy. Him talking/thinking about her here can be further supported by what he says to her before he rips her wings off: "Ruler of a fallen kingdom. The Tide of Change will swallow you whole. You will crumble and become dust, like all those trinkets you treasured so." Again, he already knows her whole life story. He knows what happened to her. To her people. To everything and everyone she ever loved. He knows she loves trinkets. He knows she revels in opulence. He already knows her well enough to know what to say to her and how, to drive the knife in deepest. He calls her dust. He reminds her of all of her precious trinkets that she loved so damn much. She clings to her little possessions. She will become dust. Like her kingdom already did. Like everything one day will.

Exhibit H: When he wins their fight and he's holding her over the cliff, he yells "ALL THE WAITING I'VE ENDURED... FOR THIS?!" (we're back to this line, just like I said!) Before you bring up him wanting the Soul Jam back (which he does, I do not deny this), consider this: he makes no move whatsoever to take it back, even when he's got her in his grasp and the Soul Jam is inches from his face. He's got her beat, pinned, but he leaves it at that. He doesn't even mention the Soul Jam at all, not even once. All he does is yell and throw a huge tantrum about how their battle didn't go the way he wanted it to. He just go on and on about how it can't end like this. His bird hunt can't end like this. Where's the thrill? He honestly seems to care less about the Soul Jam and more about her. It's not the "the Soul Jam hunt", it's "the BIRD hunt". He wants his power back, of course. But that's not all he wants. He wants her. He's after her.

Additional point, that may or may not be enough to count as Exhibit I: In the beginning, Saffron Buffalo tells Golden Cheese that Burning Spice chose her. After she and Smoked Cheese kick his ass, he says now he understands WHY Burning Spice chose her, and he was wrong to doubt her and her strength.

It can be inferred from this, from Burning Spice's reaction to her, from his reaction to their fight, from his reaction to her swift loss, that Burning Spice thinks highly of her and her capabilities, at least in his own evil, violent way. Enough for it to be noticeable even to his subordinates. Enough that he would not bend the knee if and when questioned. Enough that he's beyond disappointed when their fight ends the way it does. He wanted more from her. He expected more from her. He had high hopes for her, right from the jump. And she let him down. Broke his dark heart.

Burning Spice has had Golden Cheese on his mind for God and the Witches know how long. He thought well enough of her to choose her. To proudly state that she meets his standards. He waited for her, again for who really knows how long. He sat and meditated on her, on his hunt for her, on their fated meeting and battle. He was beyond pleased when she once again proved her might to him by taking out his general (even better, he might have gotten to see it happen as he was approaching the scene). He all but purrs his words of contentment at her prowess at her (go back and listen to him when he says that line. Pay close attention to the tone and cadence of his voice. He sounds... a certain way when he's talking to her. He really does, I mean it). He's entirely too pleased to see her. He comes to life when they battle. He looks like this is the best day of his whole damn life so far. He's angry and bitter when she throws it all away to save an insignificant child. He's angry and bitter she's taken everything he's done, all the time and effort he's spent, for granted. He's bitter enough to take pot shots at her. To sprinkle some salt in her wounds, where he knows it'll hurt most. He KNOWS her. He WAITED for her. He expected so much of her. Of course he wants the Soul Jam back. But he's shown that he wants Golden Cheese herself just as much.

In conclusion:

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Need You Like Water | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! This really got away from me and ended up as 7,110 words of my favorite kind of hybrid, fluffy-angst.

Yes, the title is a reference to Complex by Katie Greyson-MacLeod; I am obsessed.

Warnings: talk of sex, blood, Bucky's injuries, talk of anxiety

Bucky flopped into bed next to you and wasted no time. The instant his skin touched the sheets, he pulled you as close as physically possible. He always needed you, always liked keeping you close. But the hours after he returned from a mission were his most needy. His most desperate. Even when his time away only lasted a few days, he missed you all the same. It wasn’t something he could quell or ignore. 

He needed you- no matter how long he was gone. It actually caused him pain. It physically hurt him to be away from you, to be without you. It hurt more than any broken bone or gunshot wound. And upon his every return, he couldn’t stop himself from holding you. The need overpowered him. 

There was one need, however, to which he refused to surrender. 

He always came home hungry for you. Starving for your touch. He craved the warmth and intimacy only you could provide. There was something in the way you kissed him, the way you touched him. It set him alight from the inside and burned through every cell in his body. The effect you had on him remained unrivaled by even the highest dose of adrenaline. You sent his heart pounding out of his chest, made his pupils explode with want. Just the sight of you after a few days away wiped Bucky’s mind blank. He thought of nothing but you; touching you, kissing you, making you scream in pleasure.  

But he locked his lustful impulses away every time he returned home. 

“I’m so glad you’re home…” Could Bucky even hear you? With your face buried in his chest, your words came out muffled. But you simply couldn’t pry yourself away long enough to speak.  

His deep laugh rumbled against your skin- yeah, he heard you. “Glad to be here, baby.” His arms pulled you tighter; you didn’t think ‘tighter’ was possible. The force with which he held you to his body seemed to reach its maximum. But the added pressure made you sigh with contentment. 

Bucky always called to let you know when he’d be home. And he showed up on time without fail. But you needed to touch him. To feel him. Only then were you certain he was real. That he was home. That he was safe. It was these moments of closeness that finally allowed your anxiety to rest. You breathed easier. Your muscles relaxed. You melted against the warmth of his body. It almost embarrassed you how desperate you were for him. How deeply you needed him. Sometimes it seemed like you couldn’t breathe until he made it home. He was it for you, the center of your universe. And when he finally walked through the front door, the world stopped. Every time. 

But, unfortunately, the center of your universe always came home hurt. He returned bruised. Bloodied. Covered in knife and gunshot wounds. The violence, the sheer brutality he experienced, always gave you chills. He reached his pain quota ninety years ago; he didn’t deserve more. And how he still had the strength to endure such agony remained a mystery to you. But even with broken bones and bleeding wounds, he made it home to you. And though you wanted nothing more than to spend the hours after his arrival showing him nothing but white-hot ecstasy, you refrained. Your lust-fueled to do list could wait. The debauched ideas swirling inside your head remained paused until he healed enough. Until his pain subsided. 

With his body’s accelerated healing hard at work, it never took Bucky long to bounce back. All he needed was a shower. Some time with you in his arms. And a good night’s sleep. He’d attend his post-mission meeting the next morning and return home with his body in working order. And that’s when he’d take you apart.

Your lips trailed across Bucky’s chest slowly. Carefully. “I missed you so much.”

Again, Bucky pulled you closer. “I missed you more.”

It was incredulous. Ridiculous, even. With his chest free of bruises or stitched wounds, your teeth sunk into his skin, “No.”

“Yes.” His arms increased their pressure. “Keep that up and you’re gonna answer for it tomorrow.”

Over and over again, you bit into his flesh, giggling each time. “Oh, I’m so scared.” 

It was almost too much for Bucky. He felt himself getting hot, his breathing growing shallow. His deep-seeded hunger for you rattled against the walls of its cage. If you weren’t careful- if Bucky wasn’t careful- he’d act on his urges. On his desperate need to make you scream.

Once again, your teeth left marks in his skin. He hissed. The sound stopped you in your tracks.

“Shit-” Your head snapped up, taking inventory of his expression. Worry creased your brow, remorse pooled in your chest. You brought a hand to the last bitemark and stroked at it, “I’m sorry, baby…” 

Bucky gently guidded your head back down to his chest. “S’okay, doll. No harm, no foul, alright?”

You nodded against his skin. He wasn’t mad, wasn’t even upset. But another “I’m sorry” still pushed its way out of your mouth. 

Of course, Bucky was still hurting. He’d only just returned home; his wounds weren’t even closed yet. And yet, here you were, biting him. Teasing him. Causing him more pain. The guilt of your transgression weighed heavy on your mind- no matter how unbothered Bucky seemed. 

“I promise it’s more than okay, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Honestly. It’s not a big deal.”

In that moment, you remembered why there was no sex to be had upon Bucky’s homecoming. It used to happen all the time; after the jet landed, he’d go to his apartment, shower, and come see you. And every time without fail, the two of you devoured each other. 

But one specific instance still haunted you. It was the first time Bucky came to see you immediately after a mission. You asked if he’d like to come straight to your place instead of making a stop at his apartment; Of course, he said yes- how was that even a question? He wanted as much time with you as possible. And so, when the jet landed, he did as he said he would; he made his way to your place right away. 

His need for you swallowed him whole the moment you opened the door. And only seconds passed before he had you in his arms. He carried you to your bedroom and had you falling apart at the seams in no time. You spent hours together- touching, kissing, biting. Sweat-slick skin. Pounding hearts. It was the reunion you dreamed of. 

Only after did Bucky realize he was bleeding. It was as though all of his pain receptors went numb the second he saw you. But when his aggressive lust subsided, he noticed the damage. He’d ripped open the many sutures keeping one of his stab wounds closed. Blood poured from his skin. It soaked your sheets and dripped all over your rug. He apologized over and over about your stained bedding, but you didn’t care. You tried your best to get him to the bathroom for a patch up, but he was losing to much blood. 

You had to tend to his wound there in your bedroom. And when he was okay to move, you hastily changed the sheets. A quick shower rinsed his blood from your body. And by the time you returned from the bathroom, Bucky was asleep. Clearly, the pain was too much. It exhausted him and left him empty. 

The next morning, he told you sex after a mission wasn’t a good idea. He said that ripping his stitches hurt- a lot. That this whole disaster made him realize what a bad idea post-mission sex was. That he woke up feeling achier than he did when he got home. And you respected his decision. You never wanted him to experience pain like that ever again. Never again wanted to fear that he’d bleed out in your bed. Ever since that moment, you never initiated sex after a mission. You waited for him, followed his lead and his cues. It was the least you could do.

“Can I just say I’m sorry one more time?” You kissed the red marks on his chest.

Bucky didn’t want you feeling guilty. None of this was your fault- you didn’t even hurt him. But he was in too deep. And this was better- for both of you. “Will it make you feel better?”

You nodded.

“Then yes- but only one more.”

“Okay.” You once again lifted your face from his chest, “I’m very sorry, Buck. I love you.”

“You’re forgiven. And I love you, doll. Always will.” He pulled one arm from around your body- only for a second- to turn off his bedside lamp. His arm returned in an instant and added pressure to make up for the lost time. “Let’s go to sleep, okay? “

The two of you fell asleep like that, tangled in the other’s embrace. It was the first night in a week that you’d crawled under these sheets. Sleeping in the bed you shared with Bucky didn’t feel right when he was away. It wasn’t as cozy. Didn’t feel as safe. Without him, you couldn’t get comfortable. The room seemed too cold. The blankets never made you warm enough. You opted for the couch when Bucky was gone. But with him home safe, you never wanted to leave this bed.

The next morning came too soon. Bucky was up early- too early, in your opinion- for his meeting. He lamented leaving his spot next to you. It wasn’t fair; he’d only just gotten home. But he knew this was something he had to do. He got showered and dressed. He woke you gently with a kiss and promised to be back in a few hours. By the time he slipped out the front door, you’d already gone back to sleep. This was his post-mission routine; he’d wake up early, go to his meeting, and come home to ravish you. Followed by a nap.

And ravish you he did. The two of you laid together, exhausted and euphoric, for a long while after. Just taking in the other’s existence. The time Bucky spent away always left you feeling disjointed, out of step. Like someone disconnected you from your power source and left you running on battery alone. But with Bucky home, you roared back to life. He was happier, you were happier. This was the only relationship you’d ever experienced in which you and your partner brought out the very best in each other. 

Bucky teetered on the edge of sleep. He was dying for a little rest, a little recovery. Every last ounce of his energy went to pleasing you. Filling you. Making you see stars. And with his goal accomplished, he was ready for a nap- until his phone rang. The sound shattered the peaceful, post-sex quiet. It forced Bucky’s eyes open and reawakened his mind. For the second time that day, he pulled himself from your embrace against his will. 

He answered his phone with a gruff “Barnes.” His eyes roamed the room as he listened to whoever was on the other end. He let his gaze follow the line of books on the shelf. The pattern of the rug. The length of the curtains. But something in him changed without warning. His demeanor dropped. His eyes landed on you. They grew empty. Heartbroken.

“Why?” His tone was almost harsh. “No, I just got back, I’m not-”

Everything in you crumbled. 

He gave a “yeah, fine,” before taking a few steps toward the bedroom door. He eyed you with dejection, with utter agony, before leaving the room. You heard him rummaging around in the office, repeating dates and times he was given. He hung up without saying goodbye. 

In the time it took for him to finish his call, you’d drawn in on yourself completely. Bucky found you laying on your stomach with your face in your hands. Shoulders drawn up to your ears. How was he supposed to fix this? 

He placed a hand on your bare shoulder, “baby?”

No answer. 

“Hey,” he trailed a few kissed against your spine, “can we talk?”

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say- you didn’t need to.

Without warning, you rolled over and met his eyeline. “You’re leaving again?” It wasn’t accusatory; you weren’t angry with him. It wasn’t his fault. You knew what you agreed to when you started dating an Avenger. But that didn’t stop the news from hurting.

He nodded. 

“When?”

He didn’t want to tell you. His jaw tensed, like he was bracing for impact. “Two days.”

And just like that, the rug vanished from beneath you. It wasn’t fair. Why did Bucky have to be the one to go? Where was Bruce? Or Wanda? Why couldn’t anyone else handle whatever problem cropped up over night?

“How long will you be gone?”

Usually, he had a rough estimate- give or take a few days. But this time, Bucky remained silent. 

“Buck, how long?” 

“I don’t-” he sighed. He let his head droop. “I don’t know. No one does.”

Never had someone had such an impact on your life. On your happiness. Never had you experienced such breath-taking highs and soul-crushing lows; and never so close together. Your emotions swung like a pendulum from one extreme to another. It wasn’t ideal, but it came with the territory. And as much as it hurt, you’d never dream of giving it up.

“You can be upset. You can be mad at me…” Bucky took your hand in his and traced his thumb over your knuckles. “I know this is hard on you-”

“I’m not mad at you, Buck; this isn’t your fault. I just- I missed you. And I’m gonna miss you.” You forced a smile, “That’s all.” The feeling of loss began encroaching on you already. Bucky was home- he was right there with you- but you still felt the impending loneliness. The anxiety. The lack of his warmth. A small shudder danced up your spine as you thought about the emptiness. You saw yourself, two days from now, struggling to sleep on the couch. Waking up alone. Crying in the shower. 

It was too much. Desperation drove you to assume the previous night’s position: your head on Bucky’s chest, his arms wrapped tight around you. “I know, doll. I wish I knew what to say to make it better, but…” He didn’t know how to fix this. How to bring you comfort. Instead of speaking, he opted to hold you tighter. To press kisses to your hair. It was the least he could do. 

Two days later, he left. He promised to keep you in the loop. He said he’d call as often as he could. 

You didn’t hear from him much, but it wasn’t his fault; you’d never blame him. He was doing his best to balance his life with you and his efforts to literally save the world. Truth be told, you were lucky he ever got to come home at all.

For 18 days, you ate dinner alone and slept on the couch. You watched too many movies and cried when the characters fell in love. But this was the price to pay for being with Bucky. Sometimes, he had to leave. Sometimes, he had to be gone for a while. Yes, it hurt. And yes, you wished he could spend every second with you. But you knew the pain was worth it. He was worth it. You’d rather have him- over anything else. 

On Bucky’s eighteenth night away, he finally called. He nearly fell apart when he heard your voice. And after he gathered himself, he told you he’d be home in a few hours. Told you he missed you. Told you he loved you. He apologized for being gone so long, for not calling as often as he would’ve liked. You deemed his ‘I’m sorry’ unnecessary. 

When he finally returned home, he didn’t expect you to be awake. It was late- later than you ever stayed up. And though he was away a long time, he couldn’t expect you to wait up for him. You had a life of your own- a job, a workout schedule, errands to run. You couldn’t forego sleep just because Bucky was returning home. He assumed you’d be curled up in bed by now- asleep. And while he wanted to see you and talk to you and give you his love, he wouldn’t wake you. He’d wait till morning.

But when he unlocked the front door, he saw you. He found you waiting for him in a kitchen chair as though it wasn’t the middle of the night. Something came over him the instant he laid eyes on you; he found himself breathless. There you were in one of his shirts. Hair damp from the shower. A swirling storm of relief and comfort and warmth filled his chest- tinged with something darker.

“Baby…” 

“Hey, Buck.”

His keys hit the floor. He lifted you out of your chair and pulled you into his body. He buried his face in your neck and breathed a sigh of relief. He was desperate. Needy. Aching to be close to you. 

“I missed you so much, doll,” his words were muffled against your skin. “So much. I’m so sorry I was gone so long.” His hands snuck under the hem of your shirt and ghosted over your skin. 

You wrapped your arms around him as tight as you could, “Don’t apologize… you don’t have to be sorry.” Ever since he left, you dreamed of this moment. Of his return. The reality didn’t disappoint. “I missed you, too, baby. So much.” Having Bucky home righted everything in your world. It fixed all your problems, erased your unease. But with his hands in your shirt, a different type of longing burned inside you. The type of longing that wasn’t allowed when Bucky found himself injured after a mission.

You did your best to swallow it. To banish that deep ache you had for him. But Bucky didn’t let you. Without warning, he scooped you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. His lips crushed yours. His hands grabbed your ass. He sunk into the couch cushions with you straddling his hips and moaned into your mouth as he felt you grind against him. 

Your greedy hands lifted his shirt- only to reveal a litany of cuts and bruises. You shouldn’t have been surprised, but the sight of his battered body always shocked you. It was a miracle he made it home alive. 

“Hey-” you pulled away a fraction of an inch; it was all Bucky’s tight grip would allow.  “You sure about this?” 

Bucky immediately felt the loss of your lips; a needy groan rumbled out of his chest. You’d never seen him so desperate. “Never been more sure of anything, doll.”

Neither of you ever experienced such want, such strong desire. Nothing else mattered. Nothing existed except for the other- their hands, their lips. If the world ended, neither of you would’ve noticed. 

You lost yourselves in one another.

A sharp hiss pulled your eyes open. And where a mischievous glint once resided, you found Bucky’s pained grimace. His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched- something was wrong. And when you glanced down, a small gasp filled your chest; how you didn’t notice before was a mystery to you. His hand was bloodied, his knuckles swollen. You knew in an instant that at least one bone was broken- if not multiple. Even with a broken hand, he struggled and fought with the button on his pants- to no avail. 

“Hey-” you laid a gentle hand over his and stopped his efforts. “Let me.”

With minimal effort, you popped the button. Bucky shed his pants while you shimmied out of your pajama shorts. He pulled you back into his lap, wincing as his right hand gripped your thigh. 

“Buck…”

He smiled at the sound of his name on your lips- even if your tone was more cautionary than seductive. He sucked at your pulse and nipped at the skin of your neck. His hands ran over every inch of your exposed skin. But you caught the pained sound he let loose, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Buck- hey,” you gently pressed a palm to his bruised chest, putting space between your body and his.

His hands disappeared from your skin immediately. His lips stopped trailing down your neck. He feared he’d done something wrong, that he’d upset you. That he’d hurt you. Concern made his voice tight, strained, “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing- I’m fine. Are you?” The image of Bucky’s ripped stitches flooded your mind. You saw the blood. The blue strings popping out of his skin. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You look like you’ve been through the ringer- we said no sex after missions for this very reason.”

“I know, but I’m okay,” he breathed, still desperate for you. “I’m fine.” He did his best to recapture your lips, but you resisted.

“Your hand is broken, Buck,” you eyed his purple knuckles. They looked angry. Agonizing. And the bruises and bloody spots on his chest didn’t look any better. “You’re covered in bruises and stab wounds-” As gently as you could, your fingertips traced over a bandaged laceration on his ribcage, “This must hurt…”

Bucky shrugged, “I feel fine.” He tried to pull you back in for a kiss- without success. He was too cavalier about his well-being, too casual about his health. And you wouldn’t stand for it- not again. The last time that happened, you feared he’d bleed out before your eyes.  

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you sure about that? Or are you just trying to get some?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh. “I promise, I swear-” He used his good hand to ease your shirt over your head and buried his face in your chest, “I’m all good, doll.” He let his mouth roam over your skin for a moment before tilting his head up; he needed to look at you. Needed to kiss you.

A stern look pulled your brows together, “You know, trying to convince me you’re not just after sex while simultaneously pulling my shirt off isn’t helping your case.” 

His cold hand cupped your cheek, his thumb sweeping over your skin as he stared up at you. He was enamored. Smitten. Full of adoration. He leaned in for a kiss, but once again, came up empty. You were still uncertain; he could start bleeding at any moment. 

“Please…” His was so needy, so deprived of his best girl. “Come back here, will ya?”

Maybe you shouldn’t have indulged the lust burning inside you. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed Bucky to convince you that he was okay. But you did. Because, after missing him for eighteen days, you needed him. You needed to touch him, to kiss him. To feel every inch of him. Nothing could stop your hunger.

And he felt the same. He needed you like water, like air. He couldn’t survive without your touch. He needed to make up for all the time he spent away. All the days you spent apart. All the lonely nights. His burning desire for you grew into an all-encompassing inferno over the course of the last few weeks. He couldn’t contain it, couldn’t keep it at bay. And when he touched you, it exploded into wildfire. 

He lost all control, his passion consuming him. His mind contained only thoughts of you- your hands in his hair, your lips on his neck. When things grew difficult, when the mission horrified him, this is what he thought of. This was how he escaped the nightmares. You were his salvation, his saving grace, his oasis. 

He wanted to stay this way forever, burning with you until the end of time. 

But, without warning, he recoiled. “Baby, wait-” He pulled his hands away. He removed his lips from your skin. He sat motionless. Quiet. The lust in his eyes melted into concern. 

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach; something was wrong. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten carried away- Bucky was hurt. You should’ve put a stop to things, but it was too late. And, clearly, Bucky wasn’t okay.

You pulled away and scrambled out of his lap, too scared to touch him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Buck. Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Worry constricted your airway. “Hey, can you tell me what hurts?” You needed a roadmap. Was it his hand? Or the massive cut slashed across his ribs? “I can’t help you unless I know what’s wrong.”

Bucky’s eyes fell to floor. He bit at his lip. He didn’t know what to tell you. Telling you he was hurting was just another lie to add to the pile. But telling you the truth meant a long explanation, a complicated justification for his deceit. He sighed, “I’m actually- I’m not in pain, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. This was just like him; he always downplayed his injuries and discounted his suffering until it was too late. And you knew he’d rather die than admit you’d hurt him. “Buck, I need you to be honest with me. Just tell me where it hurts and I’ll-”

“I’m not hurt-” He let out a huff, “Okay, I am hurt. Obviously,” he brandished his broken hand. “But that’s not why I stopped.”

It didn’t make any sense. Only moments ago, Bucky was inhaling you. Consuming you. Trying to meld his soul with yours. And now, he refused to touch you. But in the grand scheme, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Bucky wasn’t hurting, wasn’t bleeding. He was okay. 

“Oh. Okay, well, I’m glad you’re feeling alright…” You wanted to reach out and touch him- even in the most innocent sense. You wanted to swipe a thumb across his cheek or run a hand through his hair. But you refrained. Something was clearly wrong, and you weren’t about to make it worse. “But I know something’s going on… can you talk to me?”

Bucky sighed. He didn’t want to tell you the truth. He feared it might make him appear monstruous- more monstruous. And what if his confession upset you? If he came clean, you’d know he’d been lying to you- for a long time. The repercussions scared him; how could your relationship come back from that? How could you forgive him after he lied for months?

“You know I only ever want the truth…” you said, “no matter what that truth is.”

It wasn’t fair to keep up the charade. Didn’t you deserve the truth? Didn’t you deserve to know what he’d been up to? All Bucky ever wanted was for you to know him- really know him. And how could you know him if he hid things from you?

“I felt myself- I felt like I was losing control,” his words dripped in shame, “it wasn’t safe for you.”

“What do you mean?” Being with Bucky was the epitome of safety; he always made you feel protected. It had nothing to do with his strength or his speed or his cybernetic arm- he cared. He cared about you, your well-being. He cared about your safety more than you did. How could you ever be unsafe around him?

Bucky wished he never opened this can of worms. He should’ve just followed his routine. Should’ve settled in for a tame night of cuddling and relaxation. But he let his lust get the better of him- and now he had to come clean. “Do you, uh, do you remember the first time that I came straight here after a mission?”

“Yeah… the um, the time you nearly bled out-” The events of that night haunted you ever since. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed the images of Bucky’s bloody body to dissipate. “How could I forget?” 

Bucky cringed. He knew how much it scared you, how he traumatized you that night. “I didn’t care about what happened- I mean, I cared because I ruined your sheets and got blood everywhere.” He sighed, “And I’m still sorry about that, by the way-”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Buck. I only wanted you to be okay.” He’d apologized to you a million times over. He bought you new sheets and a new rug. Vases full of flowers. Your favorite candy. It was overkill. Sweet, but unnecessary.

He flashed you a smile that vanished all too quickly. “The morning after, I told you it wasn’t a good idea for us to have sex right after I got back from a mission. I told you that it was really painful for me…”

Guilt took root in your chest. He clearly told you all those months ago that post-mission sex was a definite no, that it wasn’t good for him. But you’d let your desperation for him overshadow his well-being. You let your longing steal your logic. And now, he was clearly suffering. “I know, I’m sorry. I knew this was a mistake. I just-”

“No- no, doll. Don’t. I promise I’m okay.” He wished he was better with words, that he’d phrased things properly. “What I’m trying to say is: the pain wasn’t- it really wasn’t bad. It didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary for me. And the ripped stitches only stung a little. I felt fine.”

This definitely didn’t align with what he told you all those months ago. He said he was uncomfortable- miserable, actually. He said his whole body hurt. He said he was in too much pain to ever have sex right  after a mission again. 

“What I really cared about was you,” he laid a gentle hand on your thigh. “I don’t even think you noticed- you were too concerned about me. But you had a bruise- a big one- on your hip.”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “I did?”

Bucky nodded. “And a few small ones on your wrist. There was one on your shoulder blade, too.”

You didn’t remember bruises. You didn’t remember ever feeling sore after that night. All that stuck in your mind was worrying about Bucky. Tending to his wounds. Cleaning up his blood. Alleviating his pain. He was all that mattered.

“Every time I come home from a mission, I’m all wound up. You know? I have a ton of leftover adrenaline and anxiety and- I used to get a workout in at the compound before I’d see you.”

“Wait, really?”

He nodded. “The second the jet landed, I’d go knock the heavy bag around for a while; it helped burn off all the nervous energy. I knew we’d end up having sex the second we saw each other- which I’m not complaining about,” he gave a weak laugh. “But it just didn’t seem safe when I was so agitated.” He pulled his hand from your leg as though he feared he’d hurt you again. “I had to get it all of it out of my system before I saw you- before we did anything. And then I could go home and shower. And then, I could come see you.”

None of this ever crossed your mind. This entire time, Bucky had a plan. A strategy. He expended so much extra time and energy to protect you. Even after a grueling mission, he put his body through more pain. More work. All for you. 

“I was really strict about it- it was my routine. But then you asked me to come over right after I landed…” he smiled at the memory. He remembered how it felt to be wanted. To be chosen. You wanted to see him just as badly as he wanted to see you, and he couldn’t believe it. “And I got tunnel vision. I was so excited to see you that I skipped my workout- I thought maybe it would be okay, you know? I thought maybe I was being overly careful.” 

His smile faded. He still hated himself for being so irresponsible. “But I wasn’t. I was right to be cautious. I kissed you that day and I- I completely lost control. I let the adrenaline get to me. I was stupid- I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Bucky tried to protest, but he couldn’t stop you from climbing back in his lap. You needed to be close to him- as close as possible. You needed him to know you weren’t afraid. But he kept his hands at his sides. He didn’t stroke your face or wrap his arms around you. He couldn’t. 

“I promised myself I would never hurt you- under any circumstances,” he said. His words came out quieter than he intended. Almost like he didn’t want you to hear them. “But then I saw those bruises and I-”

He was going to spiral- you could feel it. He’d been stewing in this guilt for months now, and it was finally going to drag him under. Your hands landed on his cheeks, “And we promised each other we’d communicate. Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

He shrugged. “Because I know you, I know how you are. If I told you, you’d say that I didn’t need to do the whole workout thing before seeing you. You’d say that you don’t mind a bruise here or there. You’d tell me not to worry about it.”

“Damn, you pretty much read my mind. That’s scary accurate,” you laughed. Bucky didn’t join you. “It’s true; I don’t mind. I’d rather have you here, even if you’re all full of adrenaline and-”

“It’s selfish of me, though. I know it can happen again. And I know what I’m supposed to do to prevent it, but…” he stared up at you with desperation in his eyes. “Ever since I shirked my routine- ever since I came straight here that one time- I know what it feels like to see you as soon as possible.” He didn’t know how he ever delayed your reunion. How he wasted time in the gym when he could’ve been by your side. “And I just… I haven’t been able to go back. I can’t find it in me- I’m strong, but I’m not that strong. I’m not strong enough to stay away from you any longer than I have to. I need to be with you at the very first possible second.”

It was sweet- you had to give him that. It warmed your heart to know how desperate he was to see you. That he needed you like you needed him. That he didn’t have to fuck you for hours or spend the entire night with his face buried between your legs. He just wanted to be near you, to exist in your orbit. 

Your hands weaved through his hair and worked their way down to his chest. Bucky leaned into your touch- though he knew he shouldn’t. “How could I ever be upset about that, Buck?”

“Because I’ve been lying to you. Because when I’ve been away a long time, I can’t even come home and have sex with you…” He suddenly wrapped his arms around you, almost like he feared he’d lose you.  “I promise I’ve tried other things. I tried sleeping it off on the jet-”

“No luck, huh?”

He shook his head against your sternum. “It’s impossible for me to fall asleep when I feel this way.”

“Wait-” You pulled his head from your chest, “but, what about when you get home? You sleep, right?”

He avoided your gaze. Of all the things he lied about, he knew you’d be most upset about this one. He pulled at the fabric of the couch. Eyed the pattern of the rug. Anything to prevent eye contact.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, “You don’t sleep, do you?”

He shook his head. 

“Buuuuuuck-”

“Baby, don’t be mad-”

You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, “How many times have we talked about this? Sleep is really fucking important- especially after a mission.” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But, like I said, I’m too wound up,” he shrugged. “I’m still in ‘fight or flight’ mode. The adrenaline won’t let me sleep.”

“Jesus Christ. So, you don’t sleep, and then you leave early in the morning for your meeting? That sounds miserable.”

Bucky wanted to kick himself. He’d woven such a sticky web of white lies- and untangling himself took more effort than he thought. “As long as I’m being honest, there aren’t um…”  he cleared his throat, “there aren’t any morning meetings.” He couldn’t believe he’d lied to you like this- and for such a long time. You were his everything, his beginning, his ending - his whole universe. He hated himself for deceiving you, even if his intentions were pure. “I go to the compound to work out. It gets rid of all the built-up anxiety.”

Every time you thought Bucky’s story couldn’t get more complicated, it did just that. More layers, more fabrications, piled one on top of another. He’d really thought of everything. 

“I’m sorry I lied- about a lot of things. But I just need my fix of you, you know? I need to see you the moment the jet touches down. I’m impatient when it comes to you.” He trailed his fingers up and down your arms, ran his palms over your thighs- he just needed to touch you. “And after I spend the night with you, I can go back to the compound the next morning and burn off all the adrenaline. I shower and change there. And then it’s safe for us to have sex.”

It all made sense now. Sure, your exes all wanted to nap after sex. But when it came to post-mission sex, Bucky completely passed out after. For hours. “So that’s why you conk out so hard…”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. By that point, I’m so exhausted that my body just kind of gives out. It forces me to sleep.”

“Damn…” your voice was soft, a sudden air of disappointment coloring your expression. Bucky’s heart lurched. Visceral fear swarmed through his mind and made his broken hand shake. He knew this was it; he’d lost you. But you surprised him. “I thought it was like that Nicki Minaj lyric. You know, ‘pussy put his ass to sleep now he callin’ me Nyquil.’”

The guffaw Bucky let loose boomed through the apartment. His head fell forward against your chest with a quiet thud, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “No, no, it’s that. It’s absolutely that-” his words came out breathless. His face turned bright red as he struggled to catch his breath, “It’s not the mission or the workout or anything- it’s the pussy.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head and waited for his laughter to subside. This whole thing was far more complicated than you ever thought. Bucky was driven by his need to protect you. By his guilt. By his love for you. You gently pulled his head from your chest and looked him in the eye, “But I didn’t feel unsafe that night- I never feel unsafe around you.”

“But the bruises were-”

“Buck, I didn’t even notice,” you swept your thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Even after everything settled down and I knew you were okay, they didn’t even catch my attention. I trust you with my life. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded- even though he knew you should never trust him with something so precious. Even if you didn’t notice the bruises he gave you, even if he didn’t cause you any pain, he’d carry the guilt forever. 

“And I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, yeah, you lied. A lot.”

Bucky cringed. 

“But you were only trying to protect me- like always.” He sighed with relief when you placed a long, soft kiss to his lips. “And I gotta say, it’s pretty sweet that you can’t stand to be away from me-” 

“I can’t-” He ran his hands up and down your back. Left a few kisses against your chest. “Drives me crazy.” He often wondered how he survived without you. When he looked back on his life before he met you, everything seemed gray. Cold. Lifeless. And then, you. You showed him how colorful life could be. How warm. How beautiful. He’d never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted you. 

“I just hate that you’ve been dealing with this alone and literally losing sleep over it.”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t care- just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, baby. And I appreciate how much you care. But there’s no need for elaborate schemes or hundreds of tiny lies- we figure things out together, as a team.”

He squeezed you tight, “I like being on your team.”

“Good.”

 You reveled in each other for a long, quiet moment. Bucky’s face lay against your chest and your hands tangled in his hair. His hand still throbbed but he didn’t care- he focused only on holding you, bringing you as close to his body as possible. 

“And hey, if you would’ve just told me about your dilemma, I could’ve told you that we have a spare room here…”

Bucky stared up at you, “Yeah…” He didn’t quite know where you were going with this. 

“We’ll just get a heavy bag, silly,” you threw him a dramatic eye roll. “That way, you can come home, see me ASAP-” you planted a kiss to his lips, “and go punch something for a while. And then when it’s all out of your system, all you have to do is walk down the hall to come fuck me- I mean, find me.”

Bucky’s eyes darted around the room. With his good hand, he picked up couch cushions and moved the throw blanket. His every move jostled you in his lap, but even with a broken hand, he was strong enough to keep you from falling.

“Buck, what are you doing?” you laughed, “feels like I’m riding a mechanical bull here.”

“Where’s your laptop?” He eyed you with a mischievous look, “Gonna order a heavy bag online right now.”

——————————————

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[peppymintdreams]

Mortal Beauty

Xanthus Claiborne x Love

The moon hung low, casting its pale light through the grand, arched windows of Xanthus’ library. Love sat curled on one of the high-backed chairs, their presence a fragile yet striking contrast against the ancient, opulent surroundings. Their sketchbook rested on their lap, pencil scratching quietly against the paper.

Xanthus stood nearby, his figure framed by shadows as he pretended to browse the shelves. In truth, his gaze kept drifting back to them, his sharp features betraying an unusual softness.

"Do you always lose yourself so completely when you draw?" he asked finally, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Love glanced up, startled but smiling. “It’s easy to get lost in something you care about.” They gestured toward the sketchbook. “You know, like how you look at all these books as if they’re old friends.”

“Books don’t fade,” Xanthus replied, stepping closer. His voice was quieter now, almost reflective. “They endure. Unlike... you.”

Love tilted their head, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”

“You mortals,” Xanthus said, his eyes darkening with an emotion Love couldn’t quite place. “You burn so brightly, create so much, yet you’re gone in an instant. Your beauty—your soul—is fleeting. It’s cruel, in a way. As if the universe enjoys dangling perfection only to snatch it away.”

The words lingered between them, heavy with a weight Love didn’t expect. They set the sketchbook aside and stood, stepping toward him. “Fleeting doesn’t mean worthless,” they said softly. “If anything, it makes things more precious. Beauty that lasts forever? It’s easy to take it for granted.”

Xanthus’ lips quirked in a faint smile, though his golden eyes remained somber. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t have to live with eternity.”

“And spoken to someone who does.” Love reached up, brushing a hand lightly against his cheek. His skin was cool under their touch, but they didn’t flinch. “That’s why it matters that you notice things. The way you look at the stars. The way you read poetry like it’s a prayer. You make fleeting things feel eternal.”

Xanthus captured their hand in his, holding it against his chest as if to anchor himself. “You have no idea how dangerous it is for me to care for something so fragile,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking.

“Maybe it’s dangerous for me to care about something so untouchable,” Love replied with a small, bittersweet smile. “But I do.”

The silence stretched again, but this time it was charged with unspoken truths. Xanthus let out a quiet sigh, his gaze softening as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against theirs. “You’re reckless,” he murmured, though there was no malice in his words—only something deeper, something more vulnerable.

“And you’re overthinking,” Love teased gently, though their voice was equally hushed. “You can’t stop me from fading, Xanthus. But maybe... you can help me shine brighter while I’m here.”

Xanthus closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he pulled back just enough to meet their gaze. “You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered, though his tone was almost reverent.

Love grinned, their fingers curling around his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

For a moment, the ancient vampire simply looked at them, memorizing every line, every expression. Love—so ephemeral yet so radiant—had managed to become the one thing in his endless existence he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Fleeting or not,” he said finally, “you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.”

[knightofhylia]

Light of Blessing, Spirit Orb, and Stamina Vessel/Heart Container Ritual

Each of the orbs serve a different purpose, and it's best not to try and do all of these rituals at once. The orbs can be made of anything (crystal, metal, wood, rubber, cat toy w/e. I used marbles I found in the yard). It's a good idea to cleanse your item before you do the ritual. Doing this ritual will program this item to act as the blessing, orb, or vessel, so make sure you don't use it for unrelated rituals.

Light of Blessings are to purify and cleanse yourself of negative, unusable, and unwanted energy. Good to do as part of a routine.

Spirit Orbs are tokens of Hylia's grace used to imbue you with courage. Good to do after a huge defeat or before a challenging task. This is a transaction of power, so be prepared with an offering.

Stamina Vessels and Heart Containers are to restore your energy, especially if there is a specific issue draining you. Good for when you've lost motivation. Also a transaction of power but the source is more universal than straight from the Goddess. You will get what you put in! Good to do as part of a routine as well.

You will need:

Orb/Object you can hold in your hands

Shrine/Designated area for orb (bowl, pedestal, stand, bag)

Offering (candle, incense, food, etc)

Prep:

This is going to be a mainly meditation-based ritual so make sure you have a non-distracting area to do this. For a more ceremonial feel, wear white loose-fitting clothing. for the MOST ceremonial feel, wear a head covering.

Ritual:

Light your candles and incense if that is your offering. Set out any food or objects for offering in front of you. Sit or stand in a comfortable position. Close your eyes and take deep breaths, keeping your body loose but not limp.

Once you feel you have found a steady breathing rhythm, take your orb and fold your hands around it, close to your chest and pray.

[FOR LIGHT BLESSING

Light of Blessing, holy relic that imprisons and purifies ancient evil, may you shine upon me so I may be cleansed.

Take your orb and rub it in circles around your chest, imagining the negative energy being released from your body and absorbed into the orb. Feel free to cry, sing, stomp, jump, etc, whatever your body does to release energy.

Once you are ready, hold the orb in both of your hands. Take a deep breath and SLOWLY pull your hands away from your chest, still holding the orb. Imagine the negative energy being pulled away from your body. When your arms are fully outstretched, open your hands and offer the orb to its designated spot.

End the ritual by saying 'May you grant the strength I seek'.

LEAVE the orb until the next day/night change, so if you do this in the morning, wait for the sun to go down, if you do this at night, wait for the sun to come up, or however long you feel it takes for the orb to purify your energy. After that, you are now free to meditate with the orb, carrying it around, etc etc, but don't forget to repeat the process when it starts to feel heavy or your energy is wack.]

[FOR SPIRIT ORB

Goddess Hylia, I bring these offerings so you may grant me the courage to face the adversities ahead.

Meditate with the orb, tell her of the challenge you are going to face and what your best case scenario would be. Courage comes in many forms, it may be the courage to stand up for yourself, the courage to fail and learn, or the courage to walk away.

Once you are ready, open your palms to cradle the orb. Take a deep breath and slowly raise it up as high as you are comfortable holding. Imagine Her light pouring into the orb.

Once you are ready, slowly lower your hands back down, placing the orb against your chest.

End the ritual by saying 'May you smile upon me in my time of need'

You are now free to take this orb with you, meditate etc. Dispose of your offerings properly (burning,burying, eating, garbage can, etc)]

[FOR STAMINA VESSEL/HEART CONTAINER

Goddess Hylia, please bless me with the vitality to endure so that I may continue my quest for peace and balance.

Take your orb and rub it in between your hands, meditating on drawing in energy to you. If it helps, imagine hearts being added to your health meter and more rings added to your stamina wheel. Rub the orb as fast or as slow as you feel necessary.

Once you are ready/hands are tired, hold the orb still against your chest. Take a few deep breaths.

End the ritual by saying 'I shall go forth and bring peace to the land'.

You are now free to take this orb with you, leave it on an altar, etc. ]

Feel free to make any additions or changes to personalize the ritual, I would love to hear about anyone's experiences or results!

[iwaoiness]

Orbit return

to not know who i am but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me

When they are eight years old and learn in class what the orbit and the planets and the stars and the universe are, Iwaizumi decides that on Oikawa's birthday he will no longer say happy birthday, but happy orbit return. It's funny, original, and the first time he does it, Oikawa is speechless; his jaw almost unhinges and his round, beady eyes widen like saucers. Then he lunges at Hajime, latching onto him like a koala bear. Iwaizumi screams at him, staggering as he wraps his little arms around him as best he can to keep them both from falling. Oikawa whispers thank you, Hajime-chan close to his ear, and Hajime feels a huge flip inside his chest, heat building up in his cheeks. He frowns, trying to conceal it, before whispering back you're welcome, dummy.

And it becomes a tradition. Every year, while the world congratulates Oikawa on his birthday, Iwaizumi congratulates him on his orbit return. He does it in person, gets the same koala hug (each year a little heavier), the same thank you, Hajime (at some point, Oikawa’s voice becomes deeper), and his heart gives the same leap within his chest (he eventually discovers it's not a medical pathology, but love). And when they are old enough to have social networks, he does it with photos as well.

Contrary to what he may appear to be, Iwaizumi actually enjoys taking pictures and posting them. His Instagram has an incredible aesthetic pattern (to Matsukawa and Hanamaki's surprise), with a polaroid or vintage filter that imbues them with nostalgia and timelessness, and sometimes he edits them for a subtle blur effect that encourages to look for the details hidden within. He alternates images of himself, friends and family with stunning angle shots of cityscapes, mountain landscapes, beaches at sunsets and sunrises. And in most of these images, constant and enduring as in Iwaizumi's own life, there is a small part of Oikawa (whether it's his backpack, his hand, his Star Wars socks, his hair, his glasses).

And every July 20, Tooru is the complete protagonist. The first photo he posts to congratulate him is one they take when they are 12 years old; the two of them are sitting next to each other in front of the full-length mirror in Tooru's sister's room. Oikawa’s smiling broadly at his reflection with a victory gesture, Hajime holding his mobile phone between them with one hand, smiling softly. Happy 12nd orbit return, Sillykawa.

The next one is at thirteen, this time, Oikawa alone, in Kitagawa Daiichi's gymnasium. He is lying face up, all sweaty and messy hair, but with an amused smile painted on his face, directed at Iwaizumi's IPhone camera. A Mikasa ball rests between his knees, his hands spread across his chest. Happy 13rd orbit return, Stupidkawa.

The next is at the age of fourteen. On one of Okinawa's beaches during the Oikawa-Iwaizumi's annual family trip, Tooru is underwater, leaning face down towards Hajime's new GoPro camera, his diving goggles covering half his face, his hair waving upwards, the static bubbles around his mouth curving into a wide grin, and his favourite swimming costume crammed with prints of all the Pokémon. In his hand, he holds a sea star, which he proudly shows. Happy 14th orbit return, Mermaidkawa.

The next one is fifteen years old. The two of them appear again, in a vertical selfie where each face occupies exactly half of the image. Their eyes, golden brown and moss green, at the same height. Pale skin and tanned skin contrasting with each other. Subtly wrinkled nose and upturned nose. Toothy smile and soft smile, inches apart. Happy 15th orbit return, Idiotkawa.

The next is at the age of sixteen. Oikawa sits in the cool shade of a tree on the hill where they went climbing, his back against the trunk and his fringes pulled back by a black headband. He holds a loaf of milk bread with both hands at lip level, and his round, glistening eyes behind his glasses look into the camera, crinkled at the sides by the smile. Happy 16th orbit return, Breadkawa.

The next one is seventeen years old. A volleyball net in the background, Oikawa's back, the one Iwaizumi has watched grow up all his life, in the foreground, sheathed in the Aoba Johsai shirt, this time, with the number one printed on it. Happy 17th orbit return, captain.

The next one is at the age of eighteen. This time it's just their hands, Tooru's and Hajime's, intertwined and somewhat blurred on the gear lever of Iwa-mum’s car. There is a silver ring gleaming on Oikawa's ring finger, another on Iwaizumi's. Happy 18th orbit return, babe.

The next one is at the age of nineteen. It is a photograph of another photograph that Iwaizumi is holding in one hand. The photograph is an old one, from when they were both nine years old. They are sitting on the porch (the same one in front of which Hajime is aligning the photograph perfectly with the landscape), their little legs just grazing the grass of Grandma Oikawa's house, each one holding a large slice of watermelon in their little hands. Hajime is puffy-cheeked from the fruit, head tilted towards Tooru's, who is laughing, a black seed stuck to his chin. Happy 19th orbit return, Toto. I miss u.

The next one is at the age of twenty. They are in front of the mirror in the cosy bathroom of Oikawa's small Argentinean flat, Iwaizumi standing, covering his face with his mobile phone, dressed only in the official sweatpants of the Argentinean men's volleyball team and an 85-kilogram Tooru hanging on him like a koala bear. Oikawa, dressed in old basketball shorts and all his strong back exposed (with some blue kinesiotape strips on his shoulders), hides his face in Iwa’s neck, the strands of his hair pointing in a thousand different directions, his strong legs wrapping around Iwaizumi's waist. Hajime's free arm effortlessly holds him, securely positioned under his backside. Happy 21st spin into orbit, Spoiltkawa.

The next is at the age of twenty-two. Tooru is sitting behind the low table in Hanamaki's flat, with a plastic crown full of artistic doodles (courtesy of the children at the kindergarten where Makki has started working) balanced on his head and a chocolate, banana and strawberry volleyball-shaped cake in front of him with the 27 candles lit (Mattsun and Hajime couldn't find a second number two candle in any of Miyagi's six fucking bazaars, so they bought a second number 7 because think of it as a long-term investment, by the time you're 27, we'll have the candles ready; the fact that they are single-use candles is just a small irrelevant detail). His eyes sparkled brighter and more golden than ever in the orange candlelight, his lips open in a wide smile that revealed his whitish, lined teeth, with those big palettes. Happy 22nd (or 27th lol) orbit return, Oldkawa.

The next one is at the age of twenty-three. They were only able to meet once that year, so Iwaizumi rescues one of the photographs they took at that time, on Takeru's birthday, with a costume theme because he was looking forward to it and wanted to turn fifteen as Spiderman. And it was precisely Takeru who took the picture of them, because Iwaizumi taught him and he is very good at it ("definitely, much better than your uncle", "I heard you, Iwa-chan!"). They appear shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed, Hajime disguised as Zoro (with the green suit completely unbuttoned at the bottom, showing his entire solid muscular torso, black military boots and three plastic katanas hanging from his waist; the black ribbon covering all his green dyed hair and the three shiny earrings hanging from his ear) and Oikawa disguised as Sanji (with the wine-coloured suit tight to his beauty body, the black shirt with the first buttons unbuttoned, a loosely tied white tie, the fringe falling over his eye and a fake cigarette dangling from his lips). Happy 23rd orbit return, Shitty cook.

The next is at the age of twenty-four. Oikawa, wearing an old Hajime shirt and blue boxer shorts, peers out from the bathroom doorframe, a frog-shaped headband tucking his hair back and an avocado-green mask covering his entire face. He gives the camera an amused grimace, his eyes squinting, nose gently wrinkled, cheeks puffed out and lips pursed as if he were blowing a kiss. Happy 24th orbit return, my pretty boy.

The next one is at the age of twenty-five. In a supermarket car park in Seville during a romantic getaway in Spain. Oikawa is sitting on the still-empty supermarket trolley, his legs bent because he is too tall. He is grinning from ear to ear under the baseball cap of Iwaizumi, whose hand is peeking over the edge of the photograph holding the handle of the trolley. Happy 25th orbit return, mi alma.

The next is at the age of twenty-six. Oikawa is deeply asleep between the sheets in Hajime's new flat in Shibuya. He is curled up on his stomach with one leg bent (because he is apparently against holding a single position when sleeping) his head hanging off the pillow and the thin sheet draped over his hips. He is wearing Iwaizumi's trainer's uniform shirt and has one of the most spectacular bedheads. Iwaizumi's hand is on his cheek, his thumb on the bone. Happy 26th orbit return, Tooru.

The most recent photo is the twenty-seven-year-old. Tooru appears happy, radiant, beautiful, and glorious sunder the stadium floodlights, his Argentinean national team shirt clinging to his torso with sweat, like the strands of his hair on his forehead; the skin around his eyes is subtly reddened by the explosion of emotions that brought him down in the middle of the court after scoring the winning point. He bites the gold medal they just won at the Olympics, his lips raised in a giant smile that he can't and won't wipe off. Happy 27th orbit return, my love. You have no idea how proud I’m of you.

...

u can find this and more on my ao3 🌻

[90frogsinatrenchcoat]

✴ 🎀 ~~~𝑀𝒶𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒶~~~ 🎀 ✴

'Magnolia:'

She wrote,

'An Open Love Letter to the Most Astounding, Deeply Astonishing, Brilliantly Philocalistic Woman I've Ever Known'

She paused, holding her hands painfully close to the keyboard of her laptop. She had only known her for 4 years. This seemed far from appropriate.. there was no occasion to prompt such a thing, nothing had happened in their lives to stir such emotion in her, and yet.. she found herself in quiescent serendipity as she typed this letter of adoration for a girl several months from her own age.

'There are 8 types of love. Historically, you are meant to learn these with several people, throughout your entire life. Yet, I find myself, so hopelessly enamored with you in a blazingly desperate platonic love in all its facets.

The first of the 8 loves, Philia, is Affectionate love; catalyzed by a bonding of the mind, reciprocated through deep conversation and support during hard times. You taught me this when my Parents divorced. When I needed a mother, you held me. When I cried over what I was losing, you held my hand. When no one would listen, you found me, and you looked me in the eye, and you told me that I was valid.

The second, is Pragma, Enduring Love; Enduring love, whose catalyst lies in the subconscious. Shown by creating long-lasting relationships with genuine effort. You stoked the small fire that was my heart till it was a burning blue flame and tended to it with everything you could spare.

The third love, Storge, Familiar Love; is Most often felt between a mother and child or childhood friends. I've only known you for 4 years- but those 4 years have been more constructive, and more familiar than any of my childhood ever was. I can recognize your voice, your hair, your eyes, your figure, all in mere seconds; your voice lights up my day and brings my rushing mess of a brain to a screeching halt.

The most important of the love you have taught me, however, is Philautia: Self Love. Through everything I have been through, through everything we have been through, you have taught me to be comfortable with my authentic self. Through years of pain and hardships, losses and pain, you have stayed so wonderfully true to who you are. And yet, you contribute that to me. And that is an honor I would never dream of accepting.

You say that I showed you how to be loud, how to take up space, how to be yourself.. and yet, I found that above all things in our friendship, the thing I envy most about you is your confidence. Every day you dress to impress yourself, not others. Despite your hardships, you smile. You always wear the bravest, most joyous smile. And the mere thought of providing you with that smile makes my heart pound violently in my chest, my eyes water and I feel a pang of guilt, guilt that I might not be good enough. You live in a storybook- a novel, where you find your way through the world. And I find myself to be a side character, the comedic relief that provides everyone with a laugh. The sidekick with big ideas but no clue what they're doing. And yet, whenever I say such things out loud, you silence my fears with the most amazing hug I've ever felt. You wrap your arms around me and tell me to be quiet. You tell me it's okay. You tell me I am my own person, my own main character.. it's just not my chapter yet.

So to Magnolia, the girl who taught me to be a woman when I had nothing but a broken heart and fragile mind, I thank you. And I wonder, alone in my heart, sleeping softly in the warmth of my now calm mind, if you would ever know the impact you have on me. If you would ever know how deeply I envy you, how desperately I plead with the universe to allow me to even begin to be like you. Every soft pastel princess has a deep green goblin companion.. and if I would have the privilege to be your sage green fairy friend, I would be happy. To see you be so happy, to see you falling in love, to see you finding yourself.. and to think that, had I not sat behind you that day during our freshman science class.. to think- although the thought terrifies me- that we might have never met.. I would give myself for you to be allowed to keep being you.

My last words to you, Magnolia, are this:

Keep being you. Keep being the prettiest girl in the world, in your golden gowns and bright makeup. And on the days you need rest, I will await you in your castle, holding a warm blanket and your favorite book, more than content to just be included in your story. You will always be the Prettiest Girl I've Ever Known. Inside and out.

She took in a deep breath, pressed save, and closed her laptop. She would never publish this letter. She knew the words she had just written would never be heard by another living soul. And though that pained her, she knew it was not her choice. Magnolia was her own person. Which meant she was her own person. And the time for thanks had not yet reared its head. So she put her laptop in her bag, zipped it up, grabbed her purse, and set out to find herself, guided by a Magnolia compass.

[lovemongerer]

SAINT-14 DELIVERED HIS FATHER’S EULOGY

AND NOW HE DELIVERS MINE

[snowfrostssimp-books]

CW DC THE FLASH - CAITLIN SNOW / KILLER FROST. (PART 3/6)

Understanding:

The next few months after waking up was spent on tests and you were begining to grow tired of it but endured it as you got closer to Caitlin.

You found out that you had superspeed like Barry but not nearly as safe or affective as his. Your speed scarred your body and you tried hiding it from Caitlin. Your speed seemed to be more of a mental thing anyways.

You couldn't run hundreds of miles in a second and you couldn't run on water but you could finish the Harry Potter saga in less than an hour and you could beat Cisco and Caitlin at math and medical quizzes after speed reading through manuals or websites.

"Your endurance is still very impressive." Doctor Wells said as you stepped off the treadmill after two hours barely a sweat broken. "I think I'm ready for the math problem you gave me." You said looking at Wells who nodded gesturing at the board that had a math problem on it.

Standing in front of the board you heard him approach while Caitlin, Barry and Cisco approached and suddenly you felt self-conscious and nervous. You hated crowds and because of your shy and anxious nature it didn't help being stared at either.

You again felt the clear thoughts slip into mayhem while your hands began to shake. "Y/n." You felt Caitlin's hand in your arm and you looked at her seeing her lips move but nothing registered. "What?" You frowned at her.

"I asked if you're okay?" You looked at her still frowning and she put a hand in your chest where your heart hammered against your ribcage. "Your vitals are spiking." Cisco informed and you sighed taking a deep breath. They had you wear a watch that monitored your vitals at all times as they were concerned for the odd ways the speed was affecting your body.

"This happens whenever you're placed under pressure." Wells noted and you sighed feeling ashamed. "I got it." Caitlin led you into the medbay making you sit on the bed again closing the door behind her.

You seemed to be spending most of your time with Caitlin checking up on you, standing in front of you with that slight frown as she focused on making sure she was thorough.

"Your arm." Caitlin gasped and you looked seeing your sleeve had pulled up. "It's nothing." You tried pulling your sleeve down but she gently slapped your hand away.

"Shirt off. Now." She narrowed her eyes on you. "Take me on a date first won't you Snow?" You tried redirecting the attention but it was futile as she glared until you obliged.

Taking off your shirt you heard her gasp and you felt your skin heat up more as you felt her eyes glued to your body. "How did I not see this?" She asked and when her hand touched your cold skin you sighed at the relief her cold hands brought to your heating skin.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked scolding you and you looked at her for a second before looking down again.

"You agreed to be open and honest." The pointed and you scoffed. "Well I'm sorry Caitlin. I have a hard time doing that seeing as I spent most of my time repressing things. I'm not good at asking help, I've told you this before."

You stood up but you tipped over until Caitlin grabbed you holding you up. You reluctantly held onto her but couldn't get your mind off how relieving her cold hands felt against your constant burning flesh.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." She apologised and you nodded. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just felt... ashamed." You admitted softly.

"What? Why?" She asked and you sighed sitting down again. "Barry has these amazing powers and everything with his powers seems to be fine. It's like he was blessed with speed and I was cursed with speed." You frowned cursing the universe for setting you up to fail.

"Hey." Caitlin lifted your chin making you look at her. "We're gonna figure this out okay? The two of us, together." You smiled at her blushing when she pulled you into a hug that you happily returned.

[hyuckshaze]

zoom shenanigans - l.dh

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ boyfriend!haechan | smut | ‌1.6k+ words ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dom!sub themes, asphyxiation, edging/overstimulation, spitting, slight humiliation, degradation (use of words such as whore, slut etc.), dumbification, slight dacryphylia, salirophilia, dirty talk - basically pure and absolute filth!

AUTHOR’S NOTES ⇾ i couldn’t stop thinking about this throughout the entirety of my online classes today, so i just had to write about it to get it off my chest. i am an absolute slut when it comes to dom!hyuck, so this is just self-indulgence really. enjoy! not proofread so please message if there’s any errors, or anything missing from the warning list! - lex

You don’t quite know how Hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call. 

He’d driven you insane. You’d been sat on his cock since the start of your lesson, for which your teacher, thank God, had decided that cameras did not need to be on. The class only lasted an hour, with you sitting on his lap in his gaming chair because ‘your desk chair just isn’t comfy enough, Y/N’, according to him anyway. You thought your desk chair was perfectly comfy, but he insisted. 60 minutes doesn’t seem all that long in the grand scheme of things, but with a boyfriend as evil as Donghyuck, of course he knew just how to make that hour feel like an eternity, teasing you relentlessly throughout. His lips brushing against your ear as you tried your hardest to complete the set work, whispering unspeakable promises into your ear and sending dark shivers down your spine. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew the exact expression that was plastered on his face as his wandering hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching all the spots that he knew would have you squirming in his hold. By far, the most infuriating thing he would do, though, was to snake his hand around your body whenever you had to turn your microphone on, fingers rubbing your clit in circles that had you biting back loud and sensual moans, managing to suppress the noises down to sighs which, as a University student, were not all that uncommon to hear. 

It’s when the time hits 11:50am, exactly 10 minutes before the end of the lesson (you know because you began checking it, what seemed like, every few seconds, sensing his growing impatience), that his self-control evaporates. With a raspy grunt, his hand wraps around your neck and he thrusts up into you, hard, fast and rough. You gasp, face contorting in pleasure at the sudden movements which have you crying out and grasping at the desk in front of you in order to stay upright. You whine as his grip on your neck tightens, pulling you back towards his chest in one, swift movement. A yelp escapes your lips, now blindly grabbing at the armrests on either side of the chair in order to stop your legs from giving out. Not that you’d go anywhere, Hyuck’s rigid grip on you made sure of that. His hot breath against the back of your neck caused goosebumps to form on your exposed skin, a shudder going through your body at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His hand on your neck pushes your jaw backwards, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as he looks down at your flushed face, tears of pleasure collecting at the corners of your wide and innocent eyes, perfect pink lips parted so beautifully, not to mention the dream-worthy sounds escaping them. How could he have ended up with such a perfect little girl? His hand moves for only a split second from your neck, squeezing your cheeks together in order to open your mouth. He spits harshly into your now open mouth, pressing your cheeks shut again afterwards. You let out a sudden and uncontrollable moan at the sound of him doing such a filthy thing, feeling his spit hit your tongue forcefully. You know what he wants. You close your mouth and swallow, his hand creeping back down towards your neck as you show him your empty mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He rasps, giving a tight squeeze to your neck once more.

With your eyes squeezed so tightly shut, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be listening to your Biomedical Sciences lecturer drone on about Haematology and Transfusion. Almost.

“Right, now that’s done, everyone turn your cameras on for this last task. We’re going to be going through the homework assignment that I set for you all last week, don’t think you can get away without speaking either! I’m gonna be asking you all questions about the task.” His words barely register in your mind, your head fuzzy and body shaking at the feeling of your boyfriend rearranging your insides so delectably. After a few moments, his words seem to sink in and your eyes shoot open, urgently whispering Hyuck’s name. There was no way you could turn on your camera, you’d have to lie. I dropped my laptop; my WiFi is lagging; my room is a mess. A thousand ways to excuse yourself ran through your mind, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. You could only focus so much through the feeling of Haechan fucking into you so hard and fast. Your desperate whines of his name are interrupted as he hums into your ear, not slowing his hips or showing any sign of stopping. If anything, it becomes even harder to think at his words.

“We both know that’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you, baby.” He growls into your ear, pounding into you with even more force, rendering you barely capable of thinking, let alone talking. Your walls clench tightly around his hard cock, a string of curses escaping your boyfriend’s pink lips as he grunts loudly at the feeling.

“M-my professor s-said-” You start, barely able to string a sentence together.

“I heard what your professor said, baby. Turn on your camera. Show your entire class how much of a filthy little slut you are for me. Show them how this perfect A* student cums all over my dick, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you? Everyone seeing the perfect little teachers pet coming all over her boyfriends cock during her class? Everyone seeing how fucking dumb you get for my dick?” You bite your lip, holding back a scream. You can’t, however, stop a broken whimper from escaping you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, oh my God!” The hand that isn’t clutching your neck so tightly moves downwards, fingers brushing your clit so delicately.

“Please... Please what, slut?” He spits, tears now leaking down your face, chest shaking as you hold in overwhelmed sobs.

“Please Daddy!” You cry out, mascara beginning to smudge as you clench your eyes shut so tightly. You no longer care about your waiting professor, you no longer care about the entire class, it’s only Haechan. He is all you can feel and think.

“Y/N, we’re waiting on you to turn your camera on...” Your professor presses, but you don’t even hear him. It’s only when your boyfriend stops all of his movement, hand slipping away from your throat, reaching down and reclining his gaming chair into a laying position, that you realise what he wants.

“No, no, no. Please, Hyuckie!” You whine, head spinning at the loss of movement. He’s laying practically flat now, out of view of the camera. You try to move, rolling your hips atop his dick but his fingers dig into your hips hard, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, smirking up at your shaking figure with mirth.

“Go on, baby. Turn on your camera.” He warns, fingers digging even harder into your hips. You send him an exasperated look, to which he gives you the look. You know what that means. ‘Do as I fucking say, or you’ll regret it’. 

Your shaky hands reach over to the laptop, clicking the camera button as you let out an uneven breath. After a few seconds, your face appears on the screen. Your eyes widen. What your boyfriend had failed to inform you, was that your face was flushed and sweaty, mascara smudging your cheeks in obvious tear streaks, a drop of his spit glittering as it sat upon your chin. You wiped your face on your sleeve as soon as you catch sight of yourself, moving forward to pretend to be sorting a non-existing wire behind your screen as you try to make yourself look more presentable. As you do so, you hear his voice whisper.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you called me just then and don’t think you’re getting away with it. ‘Hyuckie’ doesn’t fuck you the way Daddy does.” His low tone causes you to clench around him, taking a deep breath at his teasing words. He scoffs at your silence, squeezing your ass, hard, so that you let out a small whimper. He hums in satisfaction as you plaster an obviously fake smile onto your face before leaning back, clicking on the unmute button for only a moment before abruptly turning it off again, barely having finished your sentence, as Haechan’s rock hard dick twitches inside your sensitive pussy.

“Sorry, Professor. I had tech issues.” 

✩  ✩   ✩

Those last 8 minutes of class felt like an eternity, and your boyfriend made sure of that. You thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it, though. Not one person gave you a funny or disgusted look as you answered the Professor’s questions and kept a small, albeit forced, smile on your face. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted form of pride at your ability to pretend as though nothing was happening as you sat atop of Hyuck’s dick, enduring his endless verbal and physical teasing throughout.

It wasn’t until after the two of you were finished, long after the class had done so, that your boyfriend checked his phone

“Y/N...” You heard him call from the bathroom. You couldn’t find the energy to move, simply humming in acknowledgement at his hesitant-sounding call. He enters the bedroom in all his naked glory, carrying a small, wet cloth in order to clean you up in one hand, his phone in the other. Your eyes trace his naked body, focusing on the smooth, tanned skin. He really was a sight for sore eyes, somebody that you could never get tired of looking at. You’re disrupted from staring at his body when he holds his phone out in front of your face. You reluctantly tear your eyes from his torso, focusing in on the brightly lit screen, squinting slightly to read the text upon it.

“ 

MESSAGES

Jaemin

fucking your gf during her zoom class, nice one bro. though, you might wanna make sure that you actually hang up next time. the whole class was still there, apart from the prof. not that they’re complaining, i saw their faces. they’re gonna be getting off to that for the entirety of lockdown, i swear! 

“

Needless to say, nobody in class called you the Teacher’s Pet anymore.

✩   ✩   ✩ 

[universalistotalis]

Refuge

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

Author’s Note: Hello, it’s me again. Was gonna upload another one but I’m heartbroken lately and I just had to share this with somebody. Now, by somebody, I meant the entire Tumblr fam because why not add more angst to our lives, ye? I hope you’re all doing well! And also I wanted to say thank you for the love that you gave my Fake Boyfriend Sakusa Kiyoomi imagine! Hoping to make more of those! Love you all! ❤️

CREDITS to the owner of the picture/art 💗

Masterlist!

———

Not again.

You closed your eyes at the sudden wave of pain and loneliness at the memories of him. Your chest slowly filled with this ache that made it hard to breathe and made your eyes water suddenly.

Fuck this.

Shaking fingers wiped away the stray and unwelcome tears but to no avail. They kept pouring still, and you were left there, numb and broken as you’re forced to hear his voice, his laughter, his scoffs, his jokes, his little whines, everything all at once!!! Your mind had no mercy. And so did the whole universe. Every single thing reminded you of him! From the simplest, most trivial shit that you see and hear everyday to the most impactful happenings, a memory of him is activated, enough to disengage your entire charade of normalcy.

Strong and independent you prided yourself to be. But look at you, drowning yourself in sorrow for a man who will never be yours. Your cries and sniffles echoed in the silence of your refuge but no one will hear. No one will save you. No one will understand the hurt that you’re now enduring. Your tight fists are pounding on your chest, begging for it to stop drumming, stop beating for the guy you fell in love with! It was this very scene that you’ve been trying to avoid but still, you fell in deep… so deep and now you have no way to bring that love back. Everything is empty, it doesn’t make sense… This whole life doesn’t make any damn sense if he wouldn’t be the one to hold you in tough times, if he wouldn’t be the one to stay in your life, if he wouldn’t be the one you’ll be calling yours.

You’ve lost count at the many breakdowns you had for Sakusa Kiyoomi. It seems that you’re the only one holding on to the “what could have been” of the two of you because now, now he’s found someone new. He found refuge in another person and here you are, seeking safety under the sheets of your bed in your room.

Another sob escaped your lips as the truth weighed in much heavier as each second passed. It was threatening to crush you until nothing of yourself remained, yet you lay there, paralyzed but hysterical! You swore you were going crazy but that’s the price to pay when falling in love.

You pray that one day the pain will stop. You pray that someday everything will be better and you shall shine again.

But that day isn’t today. Maybe not in another month. Or another year. But someday, you hope you’ll heal.

———

Reblogs and replies are highly appreciated!

Masterlist!!!

Oh and I’ll be reuploading Suna’s story because for some reason it didn’t show up in the tags. 😔Stay tuned for that as well!

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Comfort Zone

   (Author’s Note:  It was requested I do a hurt/comfort fic with Crosshair, and I happened to have a shelved project very similar, so this request was my motivation to get it done!  Thank you, @leia-saveourskins!

Enjoy!)

   Crosshair wasn’t quite sure what to do when he heard your cries on the other side of the door.  He had only been walking past to head to his quarters when the unfamiliar sound caught his attention, realizing only after a short pause what it was.  His first instinct was to avoid, to pretend he hadn’t heard it in the first place.  Crosshair didn’t consider himself an expert on dealing with that sort of thing anyway.  He didn’t know how to comfort someone other than with a subtle nod or resting his hand on their shoulder.  That’s how he managed to get by when it came to the rest of the squad.  With you, it wasn’t the same.

   Hunter was better with that sort of thing, Crosshair thought.  Or Wrecker.  Even Tech would be a more recommended person to comfort you.  The only issue was the three of them had left the ship a while ago for supplies in a nearby village.  There was a chance that they wouldn’t be back yet for some time.  Plus, part of him didn’t want it to be any of them in the end.  He wanted to be the one even if he had no idea how.

    Crosshair groaned, rolling his eyes to no one in particular.  Before he knew it, he was knocking swiftly on your door.  The crying ceased on the other side.  Silence fell over the space until he cleared his throat.

   “_________?” he grunted through the door, pausing to listen.  “Are you in there?”

   Of course he knew you were in there.  He figured he’d give you the opportunity to stay quiet if you chose and endure whatever it was on your own.  For a moment, he thought you were going to take advantage of the opportunity, and he’d be on his way.  However, that changed when your voice croaked on the other side.

   “Cross?  Do you need something?”

   His shoulders sank as he exhaled.  Part of him melted a little at the thought of you offering your help even though you clearly weren’t okay.  That was just the sort of person you were.  Not to mention you used his nickname.  

   “No,” he replied.  Several seconds passed in silence as he waited for you to say something else, but it occurred to him that there was no reason for you to.  After all, he had been the one to knock on your door.  Before he could find the words, the door slid open.  You stood there and looked at him with signs of your hurt written on your face.  Your lips were turned up in a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, which were glistening with tears that you kept at bay.  A shiny wet streak stretched across your cheek where you had wiped a few that had fallen already.

   “Don’t mind me,” you told him quickly, swiping the back of your hand across your face again.  “I’m just having a bad day.”  You didn’t attempt to hide your state.  In your mind, there was no need to around Crosshair.  You knew he wouldn’t pay it any mind.  You merely wanted to help him with whatever it was that had him knocking at your door- especially since it didn’t happen very often.  “Are you sure there isn’t something you need?”

   “Are you...okay?”  The question was spoken slowly, as if he were speaking a foreign language.  You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it.  His stare hadn’t relented.  “You were crying.”

   It took you a minute or so before you knew how to respond.  His concern, if that’s what it was, was unforeseen.  You considered playing the situation down and just giving him an “I’m fine” so he could be on his way.  But if there was anything you learned about working with the Bad Batch, it was a family of perceptive individuals.  Sometimes you’d put on a smile for the others, and they’d play along, even though you knew that they knew.  But in that moment, with Crosshair standing in front of you with those sharp eyes of his, it didn’t feel like the time to do that.

   “Well if I’m being honest,” you said finally, flashing another half-hearted smile.  “I’m not okay.”

   Crosshair exhaled quietly.  He knew you were in distress, and there you were standing in front of him admitting it, but that was only half the battle.  How could he make you feel better?  What in the universe could he do that would make the tears stop falling?  Or even put a smile on your face?  Again, it seemed like Wrecker territory.  Crosshair thought back to the last time your expression had fallen in front of the others.  Wrecker had wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground in a big embrace, causing laughter to spill from your lips.  He remembered the pang in his chest even though he got to see you smile.  He wished it had been him to make it happen.  Maybe it was time to take a page from his brother’s book.

   You had begun to feel uneasy about admitting your hurt to the most stoic of the Bad Batch when, out of nowhere, he opened his arms toward you, and for a split second, you stared at them in confusion.  Your eyes travelled back up to meet his expectant look.

   “What…?”  Before you could finish your question, he took a few steps forward and began to close his arms around your form.  Eyes wide with surprise, your cheek was pressed into his shoulder as he tightened the embrace in a firm, but comforting way.  You finally responded, wrapping your arms around his lean torso.  

   He was so warm.  It was the kind of warmth that affected you inside and out.  Crosshair could be a difficult man to read on the surface.  He was more comfortable with showing irritation or anger.  Displays of the more tender emotions he held for his squad were subtle, so subtle that you might not notice them at first.  For him to step out of his comfort zone in that moment spoke volumes to you.

   “It’s...going to be alright,” he drawled.  “I’m here.”  The tears had started again at his gesture.  You found yourself just sinking into the hug and taking deep breaths.  Crosshair kept holding you with patience as the hurt passed.

   “Thank you,” you spoke into the shoulder of his blacks.  “I needed this.”

    He pulled away only slightly to look at you.  Your head was swimming with many feelings as both of you locked eyes.  Suddenly, you felt his arms hold you tighter as you were lifted off the ground.  Your laughter filled the hall as he held you suspended for a moment before bringing you back down.  Crosshair’s lips were turned up in a smile, but he hadn’t released you.

   He watched your reaction, your eyes bright and mouth forming a wide smile.  That was what he wanted.  That was what he was hoping for.  Your smile was like cool water on a desert planet to him.  Crosshair held your gaze for a few more moments until you broke eye contact to lean into his shoulder once more, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips.

   “Really, thank you.”

   He ran a hand from between your shoulder blades to the middle of your back in another soothing gesture.  “I know I’m not the best at this.  Wrecker probably has me beat.”

   “He’s great,” you said.  “But in my opinion, this is the best.”

   His chest swelled a bit after hearing that.  Both of you pulled away from the embrace, fighting the desire to linger.  Crosshair’s expression remained soft, his features smoothed by the tender exchange.

   “Want some caf?” you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you two.  “I think Tech said there was some left, even if it isn’t a whole lot.  It’ll be restocked when the others get back.”

   He hummed in agreement.  “Sure.”

[velveticamoon]

‘LIMERENCE IN IT’S PUREST FORM’

DAZAI OSAMU X FEM! READER

— dazai finally takes off his bandages, but with that his insecurities seem to be bubbling up to the surface, scared that his s/o’s love for him may waver because of the imprints of his past upon his skin. 

WARNINGS: angst (but turns into fluff??), mentions of suicide attempts (it’s dazai folks c’mon-), self-harm mentions, implied sex, profanity

[lowercase intended] 

A/N: was this fic my way of professing my love for dazai? yes no ofc not. this gets so painstakingly soft at the end even i’m not sure how tf that happened but hope y’all enjoy nonetheless (feedback and reblogs are appreciated!! have a lovely day folks)

“are you sure about this?” you asked as you held his hand gently in the palm of your hand, the two of you sat cross-legged in front of each other on your bed. he sat with his clothes off, shirt discarded somewhere along the floor of the bedroom, his trench coat neatly hung across the back of your desk chair. he looked calm, despite the storm that you knew was brewing within his mind.

he slightly chuckled, his eyes closed for a split second before reopening, allowing you the chance to bask in the pools of brown that were being illuminated by the moonlight filtered through the window, casting a shadow over his form in an ethereal manner. how he always managed to look beautiful, no matter what it may be that he was doing at that moment? you’ll never know, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to bask within his beauty.

“if i wasn’t sure, i wouldn’t be sitting here in front of you like this right now, belladonna,” he said, in a hushed manner, not wanting to break the atmosphere around the two of you. he flipped his hand that was facing upwards, gently intertwining your fingers as though he was trying to calm you down. but you knew he wasn’t trying to calm just you down, for the slight shake in his fingers gave him away despite his smile-graced face.

you sighed, shutting your eyes gently for a second, giving his hand a light squeeze before reopening them to look at him.

“it’s ok to be scared, you know?” you said, watching his expression morph from one of calm to surprise, to genuine relief. if there was someone he was willing to let his guard down with, even if it was merely one of the many walls he’s caged himself in that surrounded him in an everlasting maze; it might as well be you.

“i’m fine love, but the longer you linger on this feeble task, the more i’ll be tempted to just rip them off myself~,” he said in a teasing manner. when in reality he knew that if that was the case, he’d most definitely shrink back within himself, too scared to let you know what truly lies beneath the shield of his bandages.

he just didn’t want you to abandon him, for he believed that someone as ugly as him didn’t deserve to be cradled so gently within the innocence of your touch.

“i just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, i just.. i want you to feel safe with me,” you said, eyes looking straight into his, and he saw all the unadulterated love you were pouring into his being with merely your gaze, and he almost let his breath hitch because of how overwhelmingly in love he was with you, almost.

“i want you to do it, i trust you,” he said, his voice dripping with a sense of honesty you’d never heard spilled from his lips. that small reassurance was enough for you to finally grip the ends of the everlasting bandages layered over his skin, finally tugging at the bit that would begin the anticipated unraveling of the truth that lay on his skin.

this time, his breath did hitch, your ears caught onto it, and your eyes snapped up to meet his eyes immediately. “do you want me to stop?” you asked, concern laced within your voice, and that alone made his heart melt, the initial shock of the action fading away.

he brought his hand up to stroke your cheek with his thumb, the warmth from your skin sinking into his cool hands, a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“no, i want you to keep going,” he said, and so you did.

you slowly unraveled the rest of the slightly worn-out white bandages, to the point where the pull of gravity finished the job for you. you began gently pulling away the bandages and toss them to the side, only to look back and freeze.

scars upon scars littered his pale skin; some varying in sizes, some faded, but others still fresh. but in the end, the ones that broke your heart the most were the ones engrained on his wrists, indicating that the pain had been inflicted upon him by his own hand.

your lips parted, eyes wide, the shock was ever-so evident on your face. your fingers ghosted over his skin, as though you were afraid to touch him, which in a way, you were. not because you were disgusted, but the thought of you hurting him caused you to refrain from doing so.

dazai stayed silent while watching your movements, calculating his next movements to help stimulate you but to still manage to maintain his facade, but all his thoughts got cut off as he felt you pull him into your embrace.

“i-i’m so sorry, osa, none of- fuck- none of this should’ve happened to you,” you said. dazai could only stay silent as you held him.

dazai’s mind went blank, and he could do nothing but relish in the feeling of your arms around his being, actually getting to feel you without the bandages acting as a barrier between the two of your bodies.

“something as ugly as this shouldn’t have had to even be near your skin,” you said, but despite the sentiment that dazai knew you meant with the words, he couldn’t help the feeling of them rubbing him in the wrong way.

but he didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you too, and leaned his head atop yours, closing his eyes.

‘she thinks i’m ugly..’ the thought kept running through his head, no matter how much he tried to push it away. dazai had always been one to never let his insecurities show on the surface, but this was one of those moments where he felt as though he couldn’t possibly get more vulnerable than he already was. eventually, the thought had gnawed at him enough, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

with a sigh, he pulls away from the hug and asks “do you want me to put the bandages back on?”

you look at him confused, “does something hurt? if that’s the case, then go for it. otherwise, why?”

he shrugs, averting his gaze towards the blanket that laid beneath the two of you, and says, “i don’t know, i figured because you said that you don’t think they’re beautiful.. you didn’t want to look at them anymore.”

your heart shattered, and you couldn’t help but look at him in disbelief.

“excuse me?” you asked in an exasperated tone, you genuinely couldn’t understand where that thought came from and felt guilt pool in your chest when you realized.

‘he thinks i don’t wanna look at him anymore.. because of his scars..?’

your features immediately softened, and with the way you gazed at him with tears in your eyes, one could only describe your expression as heartbroken.

you cupped his cheek with the palm of your hand and turned his face to look at you, but his eyes remained averted.

you sighed, “osamu, look at me.” you said, voice gentle but held a sternness to it that he knew he’d be an idiot to refuse to comply with.

“what in the fucking universe gave you that idea?” you said, his eyes slightly widened, lips barely parted at the way your voice shifted.

but the thing that shocked him the most was the pure determination that was spread across your features. you gazed at him with such sincerity that he felt utterly enamored by it, almost getting lost in your eyes if it weren’t for your voice bringing him back.

“your scars, although yes, i don’t think they’re beautiful, i’d never want you to hide them from me. the only reason i don’t think of them as beautiful is because of the amount of pain i can only imagine that came with them. and it's ironic, considering i know how much you hate pain.. yet you’ve had to endure so much of it,” you let out with a bitter chuckle. “it doesn’t mean i would try to turn a blind eye and move on, as though they were never there in the first place.” you paused, forcing your throat to not close up on you as you spoke, trying your damn hardest to keep your tears at bay, to stay strong, all for him. you knew that that’s what he needed the most right now, and that became all the more prominent when you noticed the tears beginning to prick at his eyes as well.

you shut your eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to recollect your thoughts, before looking back into his eyes.

“when i told you i loved you, i meant it. every word,” you said, and his breath hitched at your words, but that didn’t stop you, no.

for nothing could stop the way your heart beats for the man in front of you. no matter how ugly the scars may be that were permanently ingrained in his skin, that wouldn’t cause you to lose sight of the true beauty that lies within his soul.

“when i told you that i love you.. i made a promise to myself. to love and cherish every part of you, the good and the bad, the quirks and the flaws, the beauty, and the pain. i promised to love all of you.. even the parts you’ve come to hate yourself.” you said slowly, with a bittersweet smile lining your features, dazai could do nothing but stare at you as you spoke your heart out to him.

“..why?” was the only word he could croak out. he internally loathed how weak and feeble he sounded in that moment, how he didn’t want it to show how much of an effect you had on him with just your mere words, but that was something that he knew he’d never be able to hide. everyone in the world knew that if there was one thing dazai would never lie about, it was his love for you.

you smiled softly, and brought your other hand up to brush the messy tuft of hair atop his head back behind his ears, and leaned your forehead against his, the one that was resting against his cheek reaching down and grabbing his hand with yours and holding it against your heart. dazai’s heart fluttered at how earnest you looked in that moment.

“because.. it’s you. it doesn’t matter to me which part of you it may be.. in the end, it’s still you, and that’s all that matters to me.” you said, and he immediately connected your lips with his, as though with the simple action he was going to be able to pour all the words he wanted to say to you at that moment into your heart and mind.

and it did. it always did.

when it came to the way he kissed you, you could always tell the meaning behind each one.

the playful kisses from when he’s running away from kunikida, always coming in the form of quick and rushed pecks, only for him to continue running right after.

tender kisses to your forehead when the two of you are in the comfort of your home where you both know that no one’s watching, the kind that makes your heart flutter in the best way.

the kisses that occur when he’s managed to come back from a dangerous mission, all in one piece and he always makes sure to come back and give you a lingering kiss, to reassure you, and him, that you’re both still there and alive.

and the soft and delicate kisses to your cheeks for when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic. whether he’s reminded of something from his past, or on the days where the remembrance of his dear friend oda becomes too much to handle.

you always knew the meaning behind dazai’s kisses, and at that moment you knew that the kiss you two shared was a symbol of both of your love being poured into one another’s souls.

the two of you parted, your foreheads resting back against each other’s, breathing slightly heavy from the kiss, but that didn’t stop dazai from murmuring the words ‘i love you’ against your lips.

and he meant it, because why lie about the one thing you’ve never been more sure about in your entire life? even if he felt as though he never deserved it in the first place.

you smiled, and he’d forever feel entranced by the way the moon now cast its glow along the features he’d always found himself to be completely infatuated with. the way your hair graced and complimented your entire being only added to that infatuation.

“i love you too, my beautiful prince.” your lips captured his once again. “let me show you just how much,” you murmured against his lips as you started to gently push him back towards the bed, trailing gentle kisses along anywhere your lips could reach.

and dazai knew, no matter how many times the world may lie to him, that if there was one thing he could always believe in, it was the love the two of you shared, for it was more than love.

»»————　　————««

dazai let his thoughts wander as the two of you laid next to each other, basking in the feeling of your naked bodies tangled up within the sheets, and he watched as you littered gentle kisses along his wrists, kissing each of his scars that your lips could reach.

his heart swirled in a sensation that he could only describe as peace. _no, _it felt like more than that.

“hey, y/n..” he quietly called out. you stopped your actions, humming in response and tilting your head up to face his, which was now staring at the ceiling of your bedroom.

“what’s a word that might describe the way i’m feeling right now?” he asked, you scooted up the bed, raising yourself onto your elbow to begin playing with his hair.

“i don’t know osa, you’re the only one that can answer that,” you said, and he hummed, shutting his eyes and reveling in the feeling of you toying with his hair. “if you want to know, there might be a word to describe how i’m feeling though?” you suggested, and he fluttered his eyelids open to look at you.

“of course, belladonna, what are you feeling?” he asked, a soft smile gracing his features.

“limerence,” you said, and he tilted his head in a questioning manner, not understanding the meaning since the word you had spoken was in english. you lightly chuckled, and said, “it’s an english word, meaning ‘to be infatuated or obsessed with another person,’ and i think it’s pretty fitting, don’t you?”

he smiled even brighter at you and pulled you closer to his body so that you were now laying on his chest.

“limerence, that's this moment.. in its purest form, no? that’s what i feel, at least,” he said, and you hummed in agreement, that’s all you felt in that moment while resting in his arms.

how beautiful is it that someone could make your heart beat so fast, while remembering the times when you didn’t want it to beat at all?

[lowkeyorloki]

lbd

After a fight with Loki, you wear the smallest dress you can to an Avengers press event...

(smut smut smut)

~

The party was awful.

Stark’s press events often were. It was interesting, how the media had changed over the past eight years. In 2012, you and the rest of the Avengers would only be seen on news stations. Now, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to for your names to be in tabloids next to celebrities like Taylor Swift or Noah Centineo. The team wasn’t just heroes anymore, you were public figures as well.

Hence the formal attire, the flashing cameras, the expensive wine. These events only happened about once a year- they were manageable. Just a pain. Besides, you always had Loki to endure them with.

Except, not tonight. And so, the party was awful, not just boring.

The argument you had with Loki last night carried over into today, and when you were asking him about the event, he gave you no answer. Never in a million years did you think he would ignore during this. The press, the world, had never really forgiven him for New York. He was hated by the general public. It didn’t help it was a well-known fact he was with you: you, the youngest Avenger. You, who had been America’s golden girl until Loki corrupted you.

That was what everyone liked to say. Really, you just got older. And cynical. You couldn’t fight the worst of the worst throughout the universe and remain idealistic. 

You and Loki had to stick together for public appearances. The reporters tore you to shreds if you didn’t. And besides that... You didn’t like not being around the god. It was so much better to face things with him. You were together. Even when things were tense, the two of you could always lean on each other. That was the nature of your relationship.

And yet, here you were, halfway through your third glass of champagne, giving Steve a half-hearted smile as he spoke. Every so often, your eyes scanned the large hall, eventually falling on Loki. He avoided your gaze each time.

You wanted to be angry, or bitter. That’s what you felt earlier today when he wouldn’t speak to you. Loki wordlessly dressed in his suit, looked you up and down in your floor length dress, and left your shared room. In a fit of rage, you had dug through your closet for something that would anger him. No, not anger. That wasn’t the right word.

Entice him. Make him protective. Despite your life with him, you were still seen as the innocent Avenger. The normal girl who stumbled into justice. You never wore short or form fitting clothes anywhere there would be cameras. You were modest. That was the role you were pidgeonholed into. Social media, combined with constant interest and exposure, ensured that. In 2020, half of being an Avenger was perception. Every team member was an archetype. Every team member adhered to that. Outwardly, at least.

So when nothing in your closet would accomplish what you wanted, you raided Natasha’s. She helped you pick out something no one would expect you to wear: A silky black body con dress. When you tried it on, it barely came halfway down your thighs. There was little left to the imagination, considering its length and low neckline. 

You paired it with heels, and painted your nails Loki’s shade of green. Natasha gathered your hair into a messy bun, leaving your neck exposed. Even Wanda joined in, brushing sparkles over your collarbone. You looked unlike you ever had before.

Honestly, you looked like Natasha did on a daily basis. That brought you some amount of comfort, knowing you wouldn’t be sticking out. But it went without saying you didn’t look like yourself, and no one had ever seen you like this. The press would have a field day.

But it wasn’t them you cared about. The only person you were thinking about was Loki.

And he didn’t even do a double take. When you first walked into the room, his eyes rested on you just a second. Then he turned away.

So you didn’t find yourself angry like you were just a few hours before this. When Loki ignored you, you only felt... Sad. Empty, almost. You had been upset with each other for less than a full day, but you missed him. If there was no animosity between you two, Loki’s hand would be on the small of your back right now, and he would be whispering into your ear. Sharing jokes about everyone at the party, wrapped up in each other.

You fought so little. It was something you weren’t used to. 

“Hey.” Steve sticks an elbow into your ribs, pulling you from your thoughts. Next to him, Bucky wears a worried expression. “You okay?”

You sigh. Tipping your head back, you drain the rest of your drink and then nod.

“I’m fine, Steve.” he looks uncertain. “I mean it. I can last one night without him. Just because I’m in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m any less independent.”

“I believe that.” Steve agrees.

“You only believe her because that’s how you are.” Bucky grins at Steve, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from Captain America. Steve smiles, just barely, and holds Bucky’s hand in his own after the dark-haired man pulls back. Your eyes flicker away, but a genuine smile grows on your lips. You love to see your friends happy. They deserve it, your whole team does. 

It’s moments like these, when Steve is focused on Bucky and you on Loki, you remember you and Steve used to date. It seems like a completely different time, but it wasn’t even ten years ago.

You were with Steve when Loki attacked New York.

“I’m going for a refill.” you state. Both men look uncertain. You pay it no mind. “Do either of you want anything?” 

They shake their heads in response, so you make your way over to the bar. There’s no one there, not even the bartender, which bothers you at first. Then you realize it’s exactly what you need. Just a few minutes alone to clear your head. The bar is in same room as everyone else, so classical music and conversation are all around you. Still, you manage to find solace.

It’s quickly interrupted. 

“Hello, darling.”

Loki.

His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. As soon as you’re aware of his presence, his smell envelops you. You shiver, noticing how close he must be to you.

You don’t turn around.

“Hi Loki.” you greet him back, eyes forward. You voice almost shakes, and you exhale, willing yourself to keep cool. Loki was always so calm and collected, something he used as a weapon. Clearly, even against you.

Loki hums, and his fingers softly begin to dance over your bare shoulder. 

“You look different,” he states. “With those shoes, you almost reach my height. But darling, you have never looked so small.” Loki’s voice drops on that last word, and a wave of heat flashes through your body. You set your glass down on the counter next to you, worried whatever Loki does next will cause you to drop it.

“Funny.” you say. “I don’t feel small.” You know Loki, know what the word small is code for. “Or weak.”

Loki tuts, and his large hands slide from your shoulders to your hips. Your dress is so short that his pinkies lay on your bare skin.

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Loki leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he talks. You can’t help it, you tremble, your surroundings beginning to fade away as you focus on the god. “I bet you felt quite powerful, teasing me in this dress. Talking to Steve Rogers.” Suddenly, Loki pulls you into him, and you gasp. His length presses completely against your ass, and you are barely able to bite back a moan.

This is harder than you’ve ever felt him. Your breathing becomes hitched, but Loki’s strong grip keeps you glued to him. His fingers dig into your hips, and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Did you think,” Loki rolls his hips against you, causing a mewl to escape your lips. “...that I would forget your past with Rogers? That it had just, slipped my mind that he is the only man you have ever laid with besides myself?” Loki’s lips connect with the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses there that are anything but gentle. “Or was that the point? To make me jealous?” Loki’s next words shake you the most. “Can you even count the amount of times I have been inside you?”

Just like that, his hands relax, and you begin to catch your breath.

“Smile.” Loki points, and you notice the groups of reporters making their way to you, cameras flashing. Loki pivots, turning both of you so you face the them. He drops one hand to his side, but the other snakes around your waist. It won’t be obvious in the photos, but his fingers are dangerously close to your heat, filling you to the brim with want.

Just as you manage to get yourself under control, the cameras begin flashing. You force a smile, and when you look at Loki, he’s staring straight ahead, expressionless.

You hated getting photos taken, knowing the headlines they would be paired with. But Loki hates it even more. You were always the victim in the media’s eyes, but Loki had never outgrown the villain. He worked so hard to be good, so hard to change. And for what? No one believed him, save for you and his brother.

Your heart grows heavy, and despite the fight, despite the teasing that left you melting in his arms, you want Loki to know you appreciate him. 

You tug on the front of his suit jacket, capturing his attention. Loki looks down at you, confusion in his eyes. You reach forward, placing your hand on the back of his neck and tugging him down so his lips met yours.

It was filthy, the way he kissed you in front of the press. Loki once again pulled you to him, your chests pressed together. He laid his hand on your back, and thank god he did, because it kept you grounded. Your teeth clacked together more than once, and Loki gave you no opportunity to gather yourself before he sucked on your bottom lip. Your were eyes closed, but you still heard as the reporters went wild, cameras snapping as they each tried to get the juiciest shot.

Loki was the one who ended the kiss, tugging away from you. He took your hand in his, waving with the other. In the crowd, you could see Steve standing in shock, arm around Bucky’s waist. Stark was next to them, looking furious.

Loki makes eye contact with you before he briskly walks away, tugging you with him. You have no time to ask where it is he’s taking you before you somehow slip into the kitchen unnoticed.

The kitchen staff stops, and you realize what this must look like to them. Loki, with a hungry look in his eyes, and you, swollen lips and practically half-naked. Jesus, was this where you thought the night was going?

“Get out.” Loki addresses the staff. They share glances, unsure of whether to listen. Loki sighs. “We are two hours into a four hour party. No one ever comes for food, they just want to drink. You are no longer needed. Now, get,” Loki’s irises flash green. “...out.”

They listen then, rushing out of the doors and through the backroom that will lead them from the building. The locks on each door click shut, surely a result of Loki’s magic. 

“You.” you squirm under the god’s harsh gaze. “Are a very. Stupid. Girl.” with each step Loki takes forward, you take one backwards, until your back is against the tiled wall. Your heart begins beating fast. You look to Loki’s pants, taking in the tent. Your heart rate accelerates even more.

He places his hands on the wall, one on either side of your face, trapping you with him. Wordlessly, Loki begins sucking on your collarbone, his lips moving down your breasts until they hit the neckline on your dress. Your eyes roll back, and you grip Loki’s hair tight. He rams his knee in between your thighs, and you cry out. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he rolls his hips, and now that you’re alone, you can feel and experience it to the fullest expense. Your mouth falls open as Loki presses his clothed length against your clothed sex, moaning and letting out a string of curses. “Look at me, darling.” You listen, obeying Loki as he removes his knee. 

Loki makes full eye contact as he takes your left breast in his hands, kneading and massaging you as he gauges your reactions. You begin panting, and soon enough, Loki grabs the front of your dress with both hands and rips it, exposing your bare breasts.

You hiss at the sudden cold, but it doesn’t last long as Loki sucks on your nipple, running his calloused thumb other the other. Loki swirls his tongue, and you whimper, arching your back. As the sensation builds inside you, Loki takes a steps back, drinking in the sight of you.

“The media won’t soon forget this. Until now, the worst they had caught us doing was holding hands.” he growls. His lips are redder than usual, and his hair was messy because of your fingers in it. “I can imagine the scolding from Stark.”

“Who cares about Stark? You just ruined Natasha’s dress.” you say, your voice strained. His absence is noticeable, and your body aches for Loki’s touch. He raises an eyebrow.

“Sweet girl, whose fault is that? None of this would ever have happened if you simply dressed appropriately.” the hair on your arms stands up. Loki hums. “I think you should make it up to me. You got us into this mess, did you not?” Loki smirks.

The feeling in your stomach builds up again, lust taking over you. You take off you heels, and sink to your knees. Loki’s pupils dilate as you move closer to him.

You unbuckle his belt, sliding it off and discarding it on the floor next to you. Slowly, you unbutton Loki’s dress pants, your fingers catching on the tip of his underwear as you do.

You want to draw this out, to tease Loki as he teased you. But when you see his hard length, and the damp spot on the cloth holding it, you can’t bring yourself to. Loki is a god, much stronger and faster than you. When you turn to dust, Loki will be as young and full of life as he is now.

But his needs are the same as any other man’s. You’re determined to fulfill them.

You brush your mouth over him, causing Loki’s eyes to close momentarily. When they do, you waste no time exposing him. Loki fingers run through your hair immediately, grasping tightly. You can hear his breathing become just a bit irregular. 

You keep your eyes on Loki’s as you lick him, from shaft to head. You lap at the precum there, then slowly take him into your mouth.

Loki lets out a sigh, his lips parting, and you rub circles onto his hipbones with your thumbs. You bring your arms against your chest, pushing your bare breasts up to make them appear bigger. You want to give Loki the best view possible.

It must have worked, because Loki’s hips buck forward. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you almost gag. Instead, you moan around him. setting a slow pace. Every so often, you flick your tongue across his head, and Loki tugs on your hair when you do.

Loki quivers, and he’s thrown his head back now. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth open, and he looks so pleased. Pride washes over you at the thought of you making him feel this way.

You bring your hand up, taking the parts of Loki that your mouth just can’t reach. With the added freedom, you circle his tip, switching up the pressure and surrounding him with your warmth. Carefully, you cup his balls, making sure every part of him is paid attention to.

Loki groaned as you fucked him with your mouth, cheeks hallowed. He begins panting, holding your head even tighter. His shirt has ridden up over his navel, and the sight nearly drives you crazy.

“I’m going to-” you don’t let him finish, picking up the pace until Loki jerks forward, spilling his seed with a curse.

There’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth before you can swallow it all. Your chests warms at the idea of part of Loki being inside you. You’ve barely leaned back to catch your breath before he’s pulled you up and into a kiss, groaning as he tastes himself on you. Your body becomes slack, relying entirely on Loki’s for support. 

“You’re insatiable.” he says into your mouth. He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Loki carries you to a nearby counter and sets you atop it.

Your dress is hiked up to your hips now, leaving you covered in just a g-string. As Loki begins to take it off, you stop him.

“Wait.” you say. He stops, giving you a surprisingly soft look. “I just...” you splay your hands across Loki’s strong chest. “I want to see you too.” your voice is quiet. 

Loki places his hands over yours as you unbutton his shirt. You slide it down his shoulders, then trace his collarbones and curve of his abs. Under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, Loki looks even more pale than usual, the sharp contours of his body illuminated and exposed.

You never grow bored of the sight of him.

Now fittingly bare, Loki’s fingers travel up your thigh and stop at your sex. Similar to you, his gives you a few strokes over your thong before he rids you of it in one fluid motion. He angles himself to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he smirks at your noises. 

He enters you all at once. You bite down on his shoulder, nails raking down his back. You hold tight to Loki as he sinks into you, moving in a slow and almost tantalizing way. There’s sweat on both of your bodies, and despite your exposed state, you feel yourself heat up. 

Loki’s rhythm increases as you adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, and your bodies move in tandem, made for each other. You coo into Loki’s ears, moaning about how good he felt. How breathless he made you, how only he knew how to make you feel this way. No one knew your body like Loki.

The coil inside you finally snaps as Loki hits a pleasure spot deep inside you, and you let out a cry into his shoulder. Loki cums not long after, his body going tense as he rides out the wave of pleasure.

He holds you, rubbing your back as the aftershock rocks through your body. You shake, exhausted and satisfied as you close your eyes for a moment of rest. 

Eventually, Loki sets you back down on the floor. He tugs your dress down over your legs, and tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears. You watch him wordlessly, allowing him to take of you.

After Loki is dressed himself, he gives you the jacket of his suit to wear.

“Oh.” you look down, remembering he ripped your dress. You slip the jacket on, buttoning it to protect the little modesty you have left.

He takes your hand, leading you to the door and back into the party. Before he does, you stop.

“I’m sorry about our fight.” you say. Loki lets out a chuckle, making you feel silly.

“Oh, sweet girl. After a tryst like this, I can assure you all is forgiven.”

[from-a-reckless-writer]

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure. 

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met. 

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics? 

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet. 

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home. 

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death. 

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate. 

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right? 

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?” 

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really. 

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location. 

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.” 

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here. 

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes. 

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her. 

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain. 

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain. 

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life. 

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around. 

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately. 

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side. 

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back. 

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations. 

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes. 

She thinks she’s still being subtle. 

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t. 

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips. 

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside. 

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out. 

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth. 

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes. 

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there. 

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it. 

And it’s not even supposed to be for her. 

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite. 

There’s really no use hiding anything now though. 

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy. 

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity. 

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking. 

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one. 

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home. 

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is. 

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything. 

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did. 

A conclusion was easily reached. 

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s. 

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem. 

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers. 

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then— 

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet. 

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch. 

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do. 

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there. 

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute. 

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning. 

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault. 

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do. 

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give. 

But Lena didn’t want things that way. 

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her. 

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.” 

She makes Kara leave. 

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake. 

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office. 

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again. 

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known. 

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate. 

She was falling in love. 

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that. 

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs. 

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way. 

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara? 

There was no word for that. 

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly. 

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out. 

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today. 

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain. 

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena. 

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara. 

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her. 

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly. 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

[golden-pickaxe]

Coffee (Part 6)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 4160

Warnings: some smut ;)

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Part 6 is here :D once again, thank all of you for the feedback, and the comments, likes and reblogs! This is very motivating to keep up writing

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius​ @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose​ @istorkyou @dini73​ @heavenly1927​ @hashimily​ @peakywitch​

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

A sigh escaped you, as you pressed your lips against Ivar’s, reciprocating the kiss, while your hands almost automatically moved into his neck and stroked over his warm, firm skin.

 It was impossible to think, but realisation slowly dripped into your brain that Ivar was kissing you, that Ivar, about whom you had fantasised for months now, really held you in his arms. You managed to push back the memory of Solveig talking about ‘steamy office affairs’, focusing on the here and now, focusing on the soft lips moving against yours.

Gods, you had wanted this man since you first laid eyes on him, sitting in that conference room, who were you kidding.

As if Ivar was surprised by you responding to his kiss, he suddenly pulled back, his blue eyes staring into yours with shock, looking from one eye to the other as you were so close. His mouth was slightly ajar, his breath coming out shaking.

Your frowned at him, not quite understanding his reaction, when he blinked a few times, the expression on his face turning from shocked to confused.

 “You.. want this?” he asked, unbelievingly.

 Now it was your turn to be confused.

This gorgeous, incredible man, who always seemed so insanely self-assured, strong, and confident, and who never did anything risky if he had not precisely calculated every possible outcome, was honestly sitting here, questioning your reaction.

 “Ah, yeah.” You answered, not knowing what else to say.

 “Really?” Ivar’s brows furrowed, the confusion and disbelief on his face only intensifying.

 Despite his strong arms around you, you managed to sit up a bit straighter in his lap, bringing a bit of distance between the two of you. You looked down at his face, now spotting next to all that confusion, also a tad of fear.

 “What is this Ivar? Are you testing me? Or what in Hel are you on about?” you had to admit, you got a bit angry. Was this all just a way to test your reaction? To test if you were interested in him or not? Had he noticed you staring at him, had he noticed your crush, and now wanted to see if it was true?

 Ivar inhaled, but did not speak, just continued to stare at you as if he was ringing for words. Taking his silence, and his lack of an immediate denial as confirmation, you were shocked and appalled.

This man was apparently really as unpredictable as the gossip magazines had made him out to be, not only at work, but also when it came to private matters and the feelings of other people. You had thought you knew him, knew him to not be like that, but apparently you had been wrong.

 Kissing you as a test, and then backing away as if you had overrun him, then not even being able to straight up answer a, in your opinion, very simple question was really not what you had expected from him.

 “Ok, alright. Fine.” With a groan you pushed yourself away from Ivar, shaking off his grip and standing up. You shook your head, before you turned your back on him, leaving the kitchen with large steps, walking towards the door to get your things.

 You had endured a lot of shit from him over the last year, had often had to tiptoe around his moods, had worked late hours and had to use your weekends for uni stuff, because your week was filled with assignments from him, but this? This took the cake.

You were not his plaything to test how far he could go, nor were you here for him to make fun of your feelings, in the way he always made fun of Hvitserk, when he had once again fallen head over heels for a random girl, he had met like two days ago.

 “Y/N, wait! Please!” you heard Ivar’s voice behind you, when you were just pulling on your left shoe. His tone was so soft again, and you could not but turn around to face him. He had followed you out of the kitchen, a pleading expression on his face.

 “I.. I’m sorry.” He brought out, causing you to freeze.

 Never ever, not in the year you had worked for him, had you heard Ivar ever apologise to anyone for anything. Admitting that he had been mean or wrong, sure, but this man never apologised for his actions or behaviours. But now, here he was, telling you that he was sorry, with the most vulnerable expression on his face that you had ever seen. For some reason he looked so much younger than this, and far less intimidating.

 “What is it, Ivar? Tell me. Please.” You heard yourself say, your voice almost breaking away now. There were too many emotions caught up in this. “What is it with you?”

 Ivar’s eyes dropped to his lap, where he was kneading his hand. He chewed his lower lip, and you could see in his face that this was hard for him, although you were not sure what exactly ‘this’ was. This situation? Talking about feelings and not having the upper hand in this conversation?

 Finally, he took a shaking breath, looking up at your once more. His eyes were wide and unsure.

“I.. I like you. A lot. I really do, I just..” he pressed his lips together, exhaling through his nose. “I’m a dick.” He finally said.

 “Yes, you are.” You agreed, quicker than you could think, quicker than you could even really comprehend what he just said. If he liked you, and still kissed you to test your boundaries, ‘dick’ was a good description for him.

 Your quick responds seemed to surprise him, as he gaped at you for a moment, before he collected himself again. Pursing his lips, he raised his eyebrows.

“Well, to be frank, I did not expect you to agree with me so easily on that.”

 You would have laughed, if the situation had not been so tense. So you just rolled your eyes, turning away from him again, your hand massaging the bridge of your nose. This man, by the gods..

 “How could I not agree, when it is completely true, Ivar?” you started. “You are a dick, and you are rude and angry and to be honest, sometimes I really wonder why I keep working for you, when you ignore me, bark at me, or command me around like a dog sometimes.” You sighed. Even if you liked the work, Ivar was not an easy boss, even if you knew how to navigate his moods.

 “Then why are you still working for me?” his voice was low, and you heard a mixture of wonder and interest in it.

 “Because..” you closed your eyes, shaking your head slightly.

 You could just lie, of course, saying that the pay was just too good, and that this job would do so well in your resume. But whatever had happened tonight had already certainly destroyed your work relationship with the youngest Lothbrok, everything from the kiss to your rude words. Telling him the truth now and looking for something else in the morning would probably be the best option.

 “Because you are cunning and smart and witty and funny and kind, and you were so lenient with me when I was stressed out because of uni. Working for you is maybe the most exciting and most interesting thing I have ever done in my life. I have never met anyone like you, and I am just so.. so fascinated, I-“ but you were stopped in your ramblings, when you felt a strong arm wrap itself around your waist, pulling you down into Ivar’s lap once more.

 Your breath hitched in your throat when he pulled you against his firm chest, feeling his warm breath against your neck.

 “You really mean that?” it was almost a whisper against your skin, as you felt Ivar’s soft lips at your ear, not kissing, just slowly moving along it.

 “Yes.” You managed to say, although your voice was odd. “Yes.. I mean that. And yes, I want you. And if that gets me fired now, so be it.”

 Ivar did not answer, and before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your cheek, turning your face over to him. His lips were on yours a moment later, kissing you again, though this time not shy and slow, no. This time the kiss was passionate, almost forceful and desperate. You gasped out of surprise, what Ivar took as an invitation to deepen the kiss even more with his tongue, one of his hands on your hips to try and turn you to your side, while the other one wandered into your neck, pulling you even closer to him.

 A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, want rising inside of you and making your feel dizzy. You were glad to be sitting in this moment, as you would not trust your weak knees to hold you up right now. Absently you toed off the shoe you had put on minutes before, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

 Your hands went back into Ivar’s neck, pulling him closer as you moved to be in a bit more comfortable position, the shifting of your body in his lap causing the man to groan into your mouth.

 You had completely lost track of what was going on, and frankly with his strong hands around you, his firm body beneath you and his skilled lips pressed against yours, you also did not really care anymore. Who cared if you still had your job after this? Who cared what was going to happen? All that was important now was right there in front of you.

 Ivar broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while he was breathing hard against your lips. His hand was absently stroking over your hip, the other one caressing your cheek, as he licked his red lips, his beautiful eyes still closed.

 Outside the window the sun was slowly setting, the warm orange light creating deep shadows in the apartment.

 “Do you.. do you want to move somewhere.. more comfortable?” Ivar asked breathlessly and a bit hesitantly and shy. Still, his voice was much firmer than just a few minutes earlier.

 As much as you enjoyed being this impossibly close to Ivar, you sadly had to admit that balancing on his wheelchair, so close to his front door, was not the most romantic position you could imagine.

 You just nodded slowly, holding onto his neck a bit tighter when he carefully let go of your body, lowering his hands to grab the wheels of his chair. He rolled backwards and away from the door, before turning around.

 Ivar placed a quick, but firm kiss onto your lips, almost feeling like a promise to you, before he leaned back a bit to see where he was going, starting to move again. It was a bit awkward for you like that, as you did not really know what to do with yourself, unsure if you should get up, or if that would ruin the moment. Instead, you just held on, lowering your head slightly out of the way, and placing small kisses on Ivar’s strong neck. You heard his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

 A few moments later you felt the wheelchair stop, but before you even had the chance to look up from Ivar’s neck, you felt his hands around your waist, pushing you off his lap and causing you to fall off. But instead of hitting the hard, marble floor of his apartment, you landed straight on the soft furs covering the mattress of his bed.

The bed itself was quite low, maybe only thirty or so centimetres of the ground, surrounded by many furs and carpets and covered in soft beige and white woollen blankets. Truly a very Scandinavian aesthetic.

 Still shocked you looked up at Ivar, who had a very amused smirk on his face. The shyness seemed to be entirely gone now, and a shiver ran down your spine and straight in between your legs, as he just sat there, mustering you lying on his bed.

 “What a view.” He said, tilting his head.

 Your breath was shaking as you exhaled slowly, watching him as he moved his chair away from the bed and off the many furs surrounding it. He heaved himself off, lowering himself to the floor, before pulling his body across the ground back towards you, and crawling over the furs and onto the bed like a snake. He towered over you with a grin, like a predator who had just managed to catch his prey, that he had watched for so long.

 How something so intimidating could be this sexy and attractive, you did not know. The expression of the man above you made you freeze like a deer in the headlights, unable to move, while your body wanted nothing more than for him to touch you.

 His blue eyes were locked with yours, as he started to slowly, very slowly lower his body onto yours, his strong arms on either side of your head. He didn’t break eye contact for even a second, and you had to bite your lower lip, staring back at him. He smirked, noticing your expression, this devilish, intense smirk that made your head spin.

 A moment later his lips were on yours, which suddenly seemed to break the spell he had cast over you. Your hands shot up and moved into the back of his neck, before they started to wander over his strong, muscular shoulders, down his chest and sides. Your fingers slipped under the hem of his grey shirt, finally able to touch the hot, smooth skin of his upper body. At your touch, you felt Ivar’s muscles flex, before he relaxed again. You smiled into the kiss.

 “Your hands are cold..” Ivar murmured against your lips, before he broke the kiss, only to move his mouth along your jaw and neck, kissing and biting the soft skin there. One of his hands started to travel down the side of your body, resting at your waist.

 His fingers left a burning trail on your skin, his touch enticing you even more, making a ball of ‘want’ grow inside of you. You felt hot, wanting nothing more than to get out of your clothes, wanting to feel Ivar’s hot skin against yours.

 Ivar sighed, as he kissed up your neck again, lightly nipping at your earlobe, before his hand started to move again, traveling down further, before pulling your thigh up, putting your leg around his hips. You gasped loudly, when he pressed down his hips, and you felt him harden against you. Grinning against your skin, Ivar repeated the movement, again and again, causing you to throw your head back into the soft furs underneath you, your fingers digging themselves into his heated skin.

 A second later Ivar was kissing you again, deeply and passionately, and you lost every sense of time, every sense of where you were. All that was important now was Ivar, his lips, his body. Nothing else.

 “Move up the bed.” Ivar positively growled into your ear, after he had broken the kiss again, sending another shiver down your spine that pooled right between your legs. His voice was low, and his teeth once again scratched over your earlobe.

 You quickly nodded, opening your eyes and looking up at Ivar, who had not lost the intense expression in is far too blue eyes. He propped himself up a bit more, so you could slip out from underneath his body, scurrying up the bed until your head reached one of the man’s many pillows.

 Ivar watched you like a hawk through hooded eyelids, licking over his lips absent minded. Then, however, he pulled out his phone, the sudden illumination causing you to notice how far the sun had already set. It was not dark yet, not entirely, but it had gotten harder to see.

Ivar’s brows were furrowed as his thumb moved over the screen, when suddenly a dozen small, almost orange lights went on all over the apartment, like small candles, tinting the loft in a soft, comfortable light, easy on the eyes.

 Ivar looked back at you again with a smirk.

“Thought that would be a bit more..” he started, but stopped himself.

 “Romantic?” you raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled.

 “Something like that.” Ivar pressed the power button on his phone, the screen turning dark, before he carelessly tossed the device to the side, where it came to stop on some fur lying on the floor.

 His full attention was on you again, and just like before, he started to move his body, crawling up the bed like a snake. He was over you in a second, his lips immediately finding yours, pulling you in yet another deep kiss that made your head spin.

 Suddenly, Ivar turned the two of you, pulling you up, so that you were above him now, straddling his thighs. You gaped at him for a moment, full of surprise, but he just grinned, now using both of his hands to wander along your body. Slowly he started to undress you, freeing your torso from your top, his eyes studying every centimetre of uncovered skin like a piece of art. Demanding equality, you also moved your hands underneath his shirt, pushing it up his body until Ivar sat up with a smirk, grabbing his t-shirt at the back of his neck, and pulling it off in one swift move. Once the garment had been thrown onto the floor, you were provided by an amazing view of his muscular upper body, with large tattoos covering his back, shoulders and chest. Intricate knot work, medieval motives, which just fitted him and his character so well.

 Your lips found his, and this time the kiss was a bit softer, although just as passionate as the ones before. You broke apart again, and Ivar’s hungry eyes ran over your body, before he grabbed you by your thighs, pulling you even closer towards him, his hot mouth connecting to your neck. He kissed and bit his way downwards, along your collarbone, finally reaching your breasts.  

 One of Ivar’s hands reached around you, unclasping your bra, while the other one pulled down the straps, quickly removing the disruptive piece of fabric from your body.

 You dropped your head into your neck, when you felt his lips on your heated skin, kissing over your now exposed breasts, your hands caressing his shoulders, your nails lightly digging into his firm muscles. You were lost in the sensation, and it was hard to form even one coherent thought.

 His mouth finally found your nipple, his lips wrapping around it and kissing your sensitive skin, causing you to moan lowly, while his other hand moved up your side, stroking over your torso until it cupped your other breasts, massaging is lightly.

Hearing the sound that escaped your throat, Ivar tensed, his hip bucking up into you as his free hand, still around your waist, pulled you down, now making you moan even louder, as you felt his hard member against your centre once again.

 Ivar groaned against your skin, teeth slightly scratching over your nipple, making your head spin.

“Gods, I want you..” You heard him murmur, his breath fast and ragged.

 Before you could really react to his words, Ivar had both hands on your waist again, rolling the two of you over to he was hovering above you, his lips crashing into yours forcefully in the most intense kiss you probably ever had. It was all lips, teeth and tongue, taking your breath away as Ivar positively ravished your mouth, his hands moving all over you, until finally they moved to open the fastening of your trousers.

 You got impatient, not able to wait to get the rest of the clothes off your body, and off Ivar’s body for that matter, everything inside of you just yearning for this man, the tight coil of want forming in your midst riving you insane.

 Your hands wandered along Ivar’s torso, your fingers mapping out the shape of his muscles, until you reached the hem of his black jeans. With one hand you stroke along his skin, while the other one simply slipped beneath the waistband at the front of his body, shamelessly grabbing his hard member and causing Ivar to loudly moan into your mouth.

 For a short moment it seemed as if Ivar was not sure if she wanted to intensify the kiss, or break it, but as your hand slowly started to move, he pulled away from you ever so slightly, breathing hastily against your mouth while trying to press small kisses against your swollen lips.

 His eyes were pressed shut, lost in the sensation, and his hands had stopped their movement trying to open your trousers for a moment. Your actions distracted him, and he seemed to lose himself in the movement of your hand.

A smile formed on your lips, enjoying far too much what an effect you seemed to have on him.

 The strong, powerful and intimidating Ivar Lothbrok, a ruthless businessman, with his face printed on the front of magazines, melting away right there under your quick fingers. What a sight, indeed.

 You gave him one last, firm stroke, before you pulled your hand out of Ivar’s trousers again, starting to open the button at the front of his jeans. This seemed to pull him back into reality, his lips pressing against yours again, as he kissed you with a growl. He positively ripped your trousers open, starting to pull them off your hips.

 Ivar kissed down your body, his strong arms pushing himself along while he undressed you, leaving you in nothing more than your underwear, lying on the blankets and furs in front of him. As if you were the most precious thing, he had ever laid his eyes upon, Ivar ran his hands carefully along your legs, a sigh leaving his parted lips.

 “You are so very beautiful..” he looked up at you through his eyelashes, which cast shadows onto his face in the dim light of the room, simply taking your breath away. Seeing him down there, caressing your skin, between the furs on his bed in what looked like candlelight, was probably one of the most attractive things you had ever seen.

 “You are the one to talk.” You said, sitting up and reaching out your hand, wanting to pull him closer to you once more.

 A wicked smile formed on Ivar’s lips, when he simply evaded your hands, before pushing you back down, and sliding himself in between your legs, his hands pulling away your last bit of clothing, carelessly discarding it next to the bed. You could only watch him, when his arms found their way around your hips, pulling you towards him with one, strong tug, your thighs now on either side of his head. You gasped.

 “So, so beautiful..” he repeated, before he lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss onto your centre, that was already wet with want for him.

 You arched your back off the bed, when you felt his tongue pressing against your most sensitive spot, kissing, sucking and licking, as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

His hands were still on your hips, holding you in place for a moment, but soon started to roam over your body, stroking over your stomach and sides, wandering up and kneading your breasts.

 You could only moan, moan his name, while your hands found themselves in his long hair, stroking over his shaved sides, your nails scratching his scalp. He hummed at the feeling, his lips moving a bit more intensely.

This felt so good, you felt so good, feeling as if you had reached the gates of Valhalla, your legs trembling as your breath got faster and faster.

 “Oh, Ivar..” you moaned, throwing your head to the side, not knowing what to do with yourself.

 “What is it, dove?” you felt the vibrations of his voice against your core, before his tongue moved against you once again, making you moan even louder. “What do you need?”

 “You..” You managed to open your eyes, looking down at him.

 Ok, you had been lying when you had said seeing him in this dim light was the most attractive thing you had ever seen. Him lying between your legs, hands on your body and lips attached to your most sensitive spot, while his far too blue eyes looked up at you with such an innocent expression that you almost believed it: that was the most attractive thing you had ever seen.

 A shaking breath escaped your lips.

“I need you.”