#more advanced stuff to come in coming weeks

[avelera]

Analysis: Why Jayce broke up with Mel in Arcane 2.08

Since the finale episodes of Arcane dropped this morning, I've been going back and re-watching some of my favorite scenes, and I was struck by Jayce breaking up with Mel.

First of all, yeah, he clearly does break up with her, though I missed how formally he does so on my first watch-through. He does it in the Council chamber, just before Viktor attacks. But since they get interrupted, he finishes breaking up with her (after checking in with her) on the balcony later.

But what really struck me about the breakup wasn't in those scenes, but actually back in 2.07, when Jayce is alone in cavern in the darkest timeline. I definitely didn't catch on the first viewing that this is where he chose to break up with her.

In the background, you can hear Jayce in the depths of his despair and solitude starts going over in his mind all the steps that led him to where he is.

Here are some of the quotes he hears:

"I never asked for this!" - Himself to Viktor, trying to justify his actions up to that point just before Viktor leaves him.

"This research is everything, my whole life," a quote from one of his first conversations with Viktor but, more importantly, it establishes Jayce's entire raison d'etre up to that point. Hextech research was his life.

"He was my mentor, Mel, and I betrayed him," obviously is Jayce discussing the coup d'etat against Heimerdinger he orchestrated to save Viktor, but it was with Mel's assistance and urging.

"You must destroy it. It corrupts. Consumes." A quote from Heimerdinger, warning against Hextech. Which must feel especially prescient now that Jayce is stuff in the evil bombed-out future where Hextech destroyed the world.

"I was trying to create magic." Jayce to the Council to defend his Hextech research and save himself from banishment, but, he only mentioned magic at Mel's goading, which I would guess he's beginning to recognize now for what it was in retrospect.

"It's your time now, Jayce." Mel, part of her goading of Jayce into advancing Hextech research and his political career.

"Perhaps it's time for the era of magic." Mel's words on the night she saw Hextech for the first time, after helping Jayce and Viktor break into Heimerdinger's lab.

"You must destroy it." Heimerdinger about the Hexcore, again, probably feeling pretty prescient right now with Jayce literally in the pit of despair in a the evil Hextech future.

Finally, while looking out over the fire while clearly going nearly insane from the isolation, Jayce begins to hallucinate seeing Mel. But then, her image in the fire gives way to Viktor's.

The decision has been made there. It's not just Jayce reflecting on his two closest loved ones (as I thought the first time), rather, it is the moment Jayce makes his decision: he is picking Viktor over Mel. He has decided that the reason he is here in this terrible place is because of Mel, not Viktor. He is choosing his partner, going back to what they had before she became involved in their life. His new course is set.

Now, I want to preface the next part by saying I love Mel, she's a fascinating character, and though I ship Jayvik I also ship/shipped MelJayVik, so this isn't coming from a place of bias. I'm just analyzing the material when I say these flashbacks were Jayce rearranging the narrative in his head and realizing Mel's been manipulating and goading him in his pursuit of Hextech.

Given where he is when this is happening: starving, freezing, in pain, alone for weeks if not months in a stone box, slowly going insane, surrounded by the burnt corpses of people destroyed by Hextech, I'd say... yeah. His need for someone to blame is pretty understandable. He even starts whispering, "No!" in a panic at the memories in response to what she says in his mind.

So when we get to the Council chamber in the main timeline in 2.08, I'd argue that Jayce is spoiling for a fight. He's had months of agony to decide things are over with Mel and that he's angry at her. He wants to blame her for what happened to Viktor, for what happened to him, and he's in pain and he wants to lash out. The relationship is definitely over.

But then Mel is in pain too. And Viktor shows up, with his own autonomy, showing that they all had their shitty parts to play in this drama.

The attack by Viktor adds another element, Jayce was probably also mourning that he had to shoot Viktor at that point, another thing that was painful and made him want to lash out and blame others for this horrible place he's in emotionally and the horrific place he's been in physically until recently.

It's only after Viktor's attack though that Jayce realizes that this situation is complex, it's not all Mel's fault. It would be easier to just pin all the blame on Mel and make Jayce and Viktor her victims, but Viktor shows to him that he has his own agency and Jayce needs to be clear-eyed going forward about who he is saving, because it's not "Mel's victim". Viktor is his own person.

Jayce also remembers some of the care he once had for Mel when he catches her before she falls (in a tender moment I mistook for a full reconciliation between them the first time but no, it's just him remembering he cares for her wellbeing). Jayce can't trust her anymore, after realizing just how adept she was at manipulating him without his realizing, but he does still care for her as a person. And he's cooled off enough to address the pain she is clearly carrying.

(I admit, I do love this moment of him calling himself an ass, because I adore Jayce but it's a lovely beat of self awareness and really shows his growth as a person that he can say this to someone that just hours before he was squaring up to fight against and blame for all his misfortunes.)

But anyway, the moments you really see that it's over between Mel and Jayce:

When he doesn't explain to her what happened to him. That's not for her to know anymore. He's decided that they're not together or intimate anymore. And he's probably still hurting from realizing how she's used what he told her in the past to encourage/manipulate him to her own ends and therefore wary of sharing. This is also a reason for the breakup: he can't share the immense pain he's been in because he can't trust her anymore, and he knows it. It's over.

In the scene on the balcony when he turns away from her instead of towards her before offering his advice. Jayce is very touchy-feely, he always offers physical comfort to his loved ones. But there, he deliberately turns away instead of taking her in his arms and comforting her. Again: it's over between them. But he still respects her. So he reminds her of how indomitable she is, along with offering the slight backhanded compliment born of his distrust for her: she's never the passenger, she is always the one in control. He knows, because he's realized she used to control him.

I've mentioned in other meta that this season deals in a lot of comeuppance for events in S1, and this is arguably Mel's. She'll be ok, she's got magical sun powers and she's the head of a powerful house now. But she doesn't get to keep Jayce in her life as her lover anymore after what she did, because she did manipulate him, even if she had good intentions mixed with the self-interested ones.

The trust is simply gone now. But he cares for her and wishes her well, so, I'd argue they parted on as good of terms as could be done.

[seafoamreadings]

week of november 24th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: this week's activity centers primarily around your 9th house; it is a great time to go (back?) to school, make philosophical or religious (re?)considerations, and plan for distant travel, although i would hold off until after mercury is direct again to actually buy any tickets or such.

taurus: while the energy is rather fiery at this time it is not so much a time for action as it is for passionate planning. any shared resources should be handled with caution and new ones - debts, loans, stocks, properties? - should not be added on or altered significantly for a while. on the other hand it's a pretty sweet time in intimate relationships, or for occult practices.

gemini: jupiter is still in your sign of course so nothing is going to go TERRIBLY awry, but be watchful for relationship turbulence. things may seem to go backwards and new things (issues, questions, or excitements) will pop up towards the end of the week too.

cancerians: a new moon this week puts you in a phase of intention-setting - but not quite action on those intentions yet - and ideally these plans and intentions are set around your routines and bodily wellness. if things don't seem to take off immediately, they're not supposed to. play a long game.

leo: fire vibes suit you very well and no retrograde can really slow you down when it comes to that. the new moon at the end of the week can be a bit emotionally heavy but really, even that is in sagittarius and makes a good indicator that you should be having a good fun time. a new romance may also spark.

virgo: sure, if you're a more mercurial virgo a mercury retrograde should never be discounted. but consider that you might be more heavily influenced by ceres, who this week sextiles neptune in your 7th house. this is good for romance, so you can have a lot of fun with this, although bear in mind that the vibes are not extremely great for turning romance into responsible commitments.

libra: don't let anyone scare you about mercury retrograde stuff this week. do be careful, of course, with messages, emails, and especially your vehicle if you have one, but all in all this is a pretty auspicious week for you, especially if you go a little bit out of your way to experience/learn some history of your local community and connect to the land you are on.

scorpio: while all mercury retrograde protocols always apply, this time around be cautious about your spending, finances, and values broadly speaking. it won't hurt to reconsider what really matters most to you in life, and what wealth is other than money.

sagittarius: if you're uncomfortable with the spotlight i have bad news for you. so much is happening in your sign that you can't help but be a focus. granted, you may not be under as much scrutiny as it feels. still, best to act with integrity and not get caught in any dishonesty or sordid affairs. a new moon in your sign at the end of the week is actually great for your sense of identity, your self concept, and your first impressions - so use that to your advantage.

capricorn: huge amounts of activity occur in sagittarius all week - likely your 12th house. keep a cool head. no addictive behavior if possible and no substance abuse, or, preferably even use if it can be managed. no flying off the handle or trying to escape the hard reality of what is. i'm preaching to the choir here, likely, but reality only improves for you if you handle it. no sweeping it under the rug.

aquarius: friendships fade in and out of your life over time, and sometimes back in again. retrogrades, starting with mercury this week, can create the illusion that you have lost some social connections you'd rather keep. but it really is an illusion; either that or that person was really not good for you in some way and it is a blessing they have retreated.

pisces: if you were planning to make any big career moves consider them hibernating or in torpor. it's temporary but it's a slowdown. delays will turn out to favor you, so don't despair. it's good for now to lie low and stay out of the public eye; a mysterious air about you will also benefit you.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or dm me to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[th3-0bjectivist]

"Spiral Skysill" - Acrylic paint on canvas

[moregraceful]

It feels like getting pulled underwater—the sharp sideways tug, the slight drag of resistance, then falling, falling, till the waves close over his head. But Logan can breathe when he rights himself again, even if the light has a watery filter to it and the voices have a distant echo. // Sometimes Logan gets a glimpse of guys who've been long gone from the teal, clustered at the far end of the bench or sitting in the box across the ice. He heard Jason's voice in the hallway loud and clear, that infectious laugh. And he could have sworn he saw Raffi fucking Torres getting out of a car in the players' lot. Something tells him not to look up the rosters.

Commissioned @impmakesart to make a painting based on the Sharks' Cali Fin hype reel + the flip side by frausorge. Imp was amazing to work with and I could not be more emotional about this piece and so, so pleased with how it turned out!! 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️ Commission him here. Thank you Imp!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yellowsubiesdance]

i was fighting for my life to get out of bed this morning

[claire-starsword]

Hi everyone, you might remember me sharing a simple palette generator for GBA ROM hacks a while ago, and I'm pleased to announce this thing has Expanded A Lot since then! I've added a tile viewer which uses the palette set up in the generator, and an option to load up palettes from a ROM as well. It also allows you to look for sprites of a certain size as opposed to only seeing 8x8 tiles.

More importantly, you can right click on the display at any time and save it as a picture, which means this is wonderful for sprite ripping as long as you know the address of a sprite and its palette. This is basically the evolution of a crummier script i made to rip the Shining Soul 2 sprites I've ripped so far, and it should make the task so much easier.

It still has a few quirks to work out (read all the info in the page), and obviously javascript isn't the fastest thing in the world, but I like that in theory anyone can use this one, I could not find much in terms of hacking tools for Linux so I started coding this one in a rush even though I planned to get to it eventually. I hope to now start cataloguing all the Soul and Soul 2 sprite addresses I know and maybe with this I'll even get to rip the rest of the sprites as well.

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[slasherscream]

the absolute INSANITY of the pushing your s/o away thing with the crazy ass boy gang… it’s like triggering a dog’s prey drive but for serial killers w abandonment issues

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + PUSHING THEIR HAND AWAY/REJECTING AFFECTION

❥ who gets pissed the fuck off ❥

Billy Loomis - Is irritated off rip. Billy plays it cool but he needs physical affection from you. He’s casual about it so he flies under the radar, but this is a stage five clinger. He’s always doing something small. Touching your fingers. A hand on your back. Neck. Sitting behind you instead of putting you directly in his lap. It’s little stuff. Hovering. Smack his hand away one of these times and his jaw clenches right away. “What the hell is your problem?” Please snuggle up to him and don’t start world war 3. It’s not worth the joke. 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Quick question, why do this to yourself? Kevin does not need, nor does he particularly enjoy, physical contact. Period. He is gracious enough to give you physical contact because he knows you’re built different (pathetic). For you to then turn around and spit in the face of him being kind enough to meet your needs? …. Quite crazy of you. The look he gives you is pure confusion because he’s honest to God baffled. What do you want to accomplish here? Go ahead and start begging now, because he’s not touching you for a long while. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Swings wildly between damn near dodging any physical affection you attempt to give him to hanging off you like a squid on a ship. No in-between. For you to have the audacity to reject him when he’s feeling clingy? How dare you. He doesn’t have to beg anyone for attention! Did you forget who you’re dating? Doesn’t even care if you did it with obvious playfulness. He’s sensitive. He’s tender. He’s a bitch. He goes to get up and leave entirely and you have to grab him and beg him to cuddle so this doesn’t become a week long cold war. Happy ego stroking! 

Stu Macher - What you’re not about to do is ruin his mood. Baby, he’s about to ruin yours. How about that? If you push his hands off you once he enjoys a little playful bitchiness. Playing hard to get. He likes to chase, it’s cool. Twice? Okay…. We’re irritating him. Three times? He’s gonna grab your hand, stop smiling, and stare at you. When he places his hand back where it belongs, on your thigh, don’t act up again. He could make your whole week go to shit. Don’t start wars you won’t win. He’s the king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. 

Nathan Prescott - Has to bluster and get visibly pissed off because he is rejection sensitive to a degree that is astounding, frankly. Let you see him upset after he tried to be affectionate and you said no? Hah! Not fucking likely. Being physically affectionate in the first place doesn’t come easy to him. Quality time is more his speed. Even worse if it wasn’t a sexual advance he was making. He tried to wrap an arm around you and you shrug him off? You’ll be lucky to get a hello out of him for the next week. Good luck soldier.

David Mccall - Outwardly, he pretends to be despondent and sheepish when you bat his hand away. He’s using sadness as a shield. If he’s sad then you might feel bad and give in. He’ll use any tool in his arsenal to get his way. One of his greatest skills is speaking in a soft voice, just shy of how you’d speak to a toddler, and telling you: “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” This is all to hide the fact that you rejecting him in any way, shape, or form makes him so angry he can barely think. You might be able to catch the rage hidden behind the veil. If you’re quick enough. David puts on a convincing show, but his gentle smile is twitching at the edges.

❥ who gets sad and mopey ❥

Jordan Li - Oh you pushed them away? No, that’s cool, it’s totally fine. You can want space. Everyone’s entitled to their own space bubble. Of course. Are you having a bad day? Are you mad at them? Did they do something wrong? Did they piss you off? These are the types of questions Jordan is going to “casually” ask for the next ten minutes while they sit really close to you. They’re not touching you! They always sit with their legs spread so wide. Their arm isn’t around you, it’s on the back of the couch. You’re nitpicking here, babe. They’re staring at you with their big brown eyes. No, they didn’t get any closer while you weren’t looking. 

Josh Washington - Why would you do this to him? Don’t push his hand off you unless you mean it or you’re being obviously playful about it. If you pretend to be mad at him while you do it, no matter how unconvincing of an actor you are, he will believe you. Sensitive king. He also won’t go to touch you again until you initiate the contact. Physical touch is reassuring and comforting to him but even he (category five clinger) gets touch aversion at times. As observant as he is, he knows some people are uncomfortable asserting their boundaries, so they’ll try to soften the blow of saying no by being “playful”. He cannot take the risk! You could mean it but don’t want to hurt his feelings. Josh interprets many playful no’s as real ones. Better safe than sorry.

❥ secret third worse thing ❥

Sebastian Valmont - Doesn’t take it for anything more than what it is. If you’re being playful he recognizes it. If you’re seriously not wanting to be touched at any given moment he understands that as well. However, in the case of being playful, you’ve started a war you can’t win. Because, as much as Sebastian enjoys chasing you…  Sebastian also likes to be chased. Ten minutes from now you’ll go to give Sebastian’s cheek a kiss and he’s going to dodge you. Hard. To such an extent it’s bordering on insult. He’ll be wearing a cat that got the canary grin all the while. 

Jason Dean/JD - Doesn’t take you seriously even if you are dead serious. I’m sorry, you’ve discovered his worst character trait by far. Most boundaries are a joke to him. He always wants to touch you. He loves you! He craves you like a drug. You should feel the same for him, in equal measure and desperation. So why wouldn’t you want him touching you? Holding you close. He’s so gentle with you (usually). His arms should feel like home. No matter how long a day you’ve had. No matter how overwhelmed you might be with sound, sight, touch. In JD’s eyes you’re one soul in two bodies. He always wants you near. He knows you want the same. You’re just a little dramatic sometimes.

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 1 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: Your ex-boyfriend gives you his dealers number, but you don’t expect for him to be so fine. And you certainly don’t expect him to be so goddamn flirty. (3.4k)

WARNINGS: descriptions and dealings of recreational drugs (weed), little bit of swearing, slight sexual themes and lots of shameless flirting. THIS IS A MODERN AU!!

A/N: the first part is here and I’m so excited!! Im still unsure how many parts this is going to be, but there’s a lot I want to happen in this series so probably (I’m guessing!!) six or seven, but we’ll see!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your patience was wearing thin. Very fucking thin. Those three grey dots mocked you as they bubbled at the bottom of the screen—disappearing and reappearing again—until they were replaced with another less than satisfying message.

Brandon: are you taking the piss? Why didn’t you just ask when you were here earlier?

You scanned the message over, swallowing back the groan at the idea of another potential argument. You needed to nip his attitude in the bud, you weren’t entertaining his bullshit anymore. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, your fingers quickly typed a response.

You: I didn’t realise I was out until I got home. Can you get any or not? Just lmk

The dots appeared again after a few moments of silence, and you prepared yourself for the snarky remark he was most likely to give you, and took a deep breath to compose yourself in advance.

Brandon: no. I can’t get you any. Sort it out yourself for once.

There was no way in Hell you were going to let your frustrations show. Despite the pure anger and annoyance that began to bubble even more within you.

Brandon could be a lot of things. A liar. A cheat. And a fucking asshole. In all honestly, the only thing he was truly good for was the occasional above par fuck and the fact that his dealer had the best weed you’d ever smoked.

But when they were the only two good things he had going for him, it was hard to justify the disgusting behaviour he showed throughout almost your entire relationship. You broke up every few weeks as it was, but if you’d known about the cheating before, you would’ve left for good sooner.

Instead, you found out a year and half into the relationship, coming to the deafening conclusion that he had, in fact, never been faithful for a single moment of his adult life.

Fuck him. And fuck his shit sex. The weed, you could get yourself.

You: lmao ok. What’s his number?

A heartbeat after he read the text, he was calling you. And the moment you answered the call, he was his usual, un-charming self.

“What the fuck do you mean what’s his number?”

“Hello to you, too.” You murmured, tucking yourself under the blanket on your couch.

His clipped tone didn’t startle you, didn’t worry you about any form of consequences. He wasn’t scary, even when he tried to be. He was just a douche.

“What do you mean what’s his number?” He repeated himself, that agitation growing thicker and thicker with every word he spoke.

“How else am I supposed to get any?”

“Find your own dealer.”

He was being bitter now, pathetically so. You picked at the aged edges of your book, a novel you’d read five times over but one you couldn’t get enough of. Your love for it could be seen by the fading print of the front cover and the severely broken spine—despite how careful you tried to be with your readings.

“Brandon, I’m not going to find a random dealer. Your Azriel guy has good stuff and I know it’s safe. Besides, me going to the same person as you is not going to affect you in any way.”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over your words. Despite his dreadful personality and lack of love and care and compassion, he knew how little you knew about marijuana. He was the one that taught you to roll, after all.

You’d barely smoked before you met him, and on the rare occasions you did get high, it was usually in the form of gummy edibles your friends had. And you weren’t addicted or reliant on it in any way. You just enjoyed a smoke every now and then if you’d had a long day.

Alcohol had never been your favourite, and you much preferred to feel the chilled buzz from a joint than cradle a hangover for two days after a soirée.

“Fine. I’ll text you his number. Say Marco gave it to you, it’s a code he made up—had cops on him a while ago. He can be a bit of an ass, don’t let him shit talk you. Ask for a 3.5, he usually charges 40 for it. It’ll last you a couple weeks unless you’re planning on smoking heavy.”

It was easy to be pulled back in when he was like that. When he did the bare minimum of offering advice on things he knew you weren’t too sure on. But you were better than that now, smarter. You weren’t going to fall back into your old ways again.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

“I’m not. Thank you.”

The line went dead as soon as the words left your mouth and a few moments later, he texted you Azriel’s number. You would’ve appreciated a reminder of what you were supposed to ask for but at least you got his number. Small wins. You weren’t his responsibility anymore.

It took you a few minutes to figure out what to say, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed and erased, typed and erased. Until you settled on ‘Is this Azriel?’ and finally sent the message.

Ten minutes passed and you didn’t get a response. Your nose was tucked back into your romance novel as you chewed on the drawstring of your hoodie. In all honesty, you could’ve quite easily slipped into a peaceful slumber under the warm golden glow of your lamps.

That was another thing Brandon couldn’t respect. Your No Main Light rule. The vibes were always immaculate with gentle warmth from lamps. The main light was not allowed on under any circumstances. You much preferred the cosy feeling of golden hues that accentuated the deep green leaves of your plants and vines that scattered the walls and crevices of your home.

Your phone chimed from your lap, a small surge of anxiety pulsing in your chest. You unlocked the screen and read over the message.

Azriel: depends who’s asking.

Ah, Brandon did warn you. You considered fucking the whole idea off. Maybe cracking open a bottle of wine and snuggling on the couch with a book or tv show would be better than having to meet this asshole, but the bottle of White Zinfandel wouldn’t give you the mellow buzz you wanted.

Not unless you had at least four glasses which was usually paired with a hangover the next day. Something you did not want to entertain. So, you bit the bullet and typed your reply.

You: y/n, got your number from Marco. You about?

The more you let your mind wander, the more you realised how little you knew. You had no clue how this sort of thing worked. Would he come to you? Your home? Would you meet at a location of his choice? Or would he just stash the weed somewhere for you to collect and you don't cross paths at all?

But the burning fire of the what-if anxiety was quickly trampled and extinguished when another text came through and instead of him deciding for you, you were given choices.

Azriel: sure, I can meet you at old tower in 20 if that’s good for you? If not I can drop to your location.

He didn’t seem as much of an ass now. No, quite the opposite. But you supposed that offer was something he probably gave to all new, female clients. If he truly was an ass or not, you couldn’t fault him for the consideration.

Old Tower was the old old watermill tucked slightly away in the centre of the city. It had been derelict for years, but due to its location—so close to all the necessities and right opposite the police station—no one ever tried to break in or set it alight like the many other derelict listed buildings had been in the past.

Even now, at almost midnight, that part of the city would still be bustling with city-natives and tourists alike. And you appreciated the safe and public meeting spot he suggested.

You: old tower in 20 is fine.

As quickly as you sent the message, you received another reply. A text describing his blue Mustang and his licence plate. You shook the nerves off as soon as they came. Azriel was respectful and well known. He dealt to make his money and that was that.

But the facts didn’t stop you from sharing your location with Brandon just in case, nor did it stop you from double checking you still had your little pepper spray clipped to your keychain.

The walk to the Old Tower wasn’t a bad one. There were many ways you could access it, most of them leading you through the city, but here were a few that hid you behind back roads and alleyways—those were routes you never took. Not on your own and certainly not in the middle of the night.

The air was still a bit sticky from the summer heat, and while the denim shorts you wore kept your body cool, you were grateful you kept on your hoodie—just that extra layer that protected your arms and shoulders from the chill of the breeze that your legs never seemed to experience.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the Old Tower, and it took even less time to spot the electric blue 2022 Ford Mustang. Small tufts of white smoke emitted from the exhaust as it sat in its standstill, headlights facing the opposite direction of what you came in, but you could still hear the engine humming from your short distance away.

You double checked the licence plate to the number Azriel texted you, and slowly made your way closer. While you didn’t know much about drop offs, deals, and weed in general, you did know the unspoken rules of picking up. And if you were picking up from someone in a vehicle, most people got inside for a few minutes before leaving.

Azriel must’ve noticed you from the rear view mirror because just as you approached the back of the car, the passenger door opened wide, inviting you in. You sucked in a breath but accepted the invitation, keeping your eyes forward as you settled into the warmth of the leather seat and closed the door shut.

You finally let your body shift and your eyes met his. And you were fucking done for.

You’d never seen a man so strikingly fucking beautiful before. He was tall, lean and muscular and oozed pure sex and charisma. Tan, golden skin and dark, luscious hair that swept loosely down his forehead and curled gently around the tops of his ears.

His face was chiselled not too sharply, a subtle gentleness to the stark contrast of the cold, brooding aura he carried. And those eyes. Christ, those fucking eyes. Hazel iris’ that dripped with a golden hue of honey.

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and willed your lips to part so you could finally speak. “Thank you for meeting me so late.”

And Azriel was absolutely hooked.

When you’d texted barely thirty minutes ago, he did not expect to be meeting with someone so fucking gorgeous. Your soft hair was twisted in a loose braid that hung over your shoulder, wayward strands having fallen from the updo and framing your face mesmerizingly.

Your eyes were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen; rich in colour and wide with slight anxiety, despite the sleepiness he could slightly notice beneath them. Your voice sounded like a fever dream. It wasn’t sickly sweet like most women he knew or dealt to. Perhaps it was just the sleep, but there was a rasp—a very slight ruggedness—in your tone and Azriel was certain he’d never heard something quite so sensual in his life.

He cleared his throat, that all too cheeky grin teetering on the corners of his mouth. “I was already out,” he shrugged, nonchalantly. “How much are you after?”

His voice was a perfect blend of sweet and rough. A deep depth to his tone that skipped hand-in-hand with a sweeter note. God, he was unreal, and the sound of him had you forgetting entirely what exactly Brandon told you to ask for.

You pulled your lips between your teeth and offered a very sheepish—but mostly embarrassed—smile. “Um… I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologising for the second time tonight. “My ex used to do this part, so I have no idea how this works.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks at your own admission, couldn’t handle being the subject of his firm gaze, and you absolutely could not fucking handle the soft rumble of rich laughter that chuckled through him.

“Do you smoke a lot?” Azriel finally asked, a slightly amused smile on those full lips of his. His pink tongue swiped out to wet them and your heart thundered against your ribcage at the sight.

“Not really,” you cleared your throat. “Just every now and then. Semi-regularly, I guess.” There was no such thing as semi-regularly when it came to drugs and alcohol. To someone’s own self, sure. But not the general mass that consumed whatever it was they did.

Some considered three joints a day ‘semi-regular’, while others considered it as a joint every few days. Azriel had a feeling you were the latter, but he didn’t say anything about his thoughts or what you’d said.

Instead, he hummed and chewed at the inside of his cheek in thought. He wasn’t laughing at you or your lack of knowledge or understanding. Usually, he’d have kicked a new client out of his car by now and told them to figure it out on their own—he was a dealer, not a fucking private tutor—but with you, he didn’t seem to mind explaining or breaking things down so it was easier to understand.

Neither of you quite understood why he was happy to explain, but you didn’t complain. You’d much prefer this than the alternative version of him that you’d been warned about.

“A 3.5 would probably be best for you, then.” He decided.

Yes, a 3.5… that sounded very familiar. You nodded, slowly, considering your next words carefully. You had already disclosed the most embarrassing part of not having a fucking clue how this worked, one more probably wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of your neck. “But can you break that down in joint terms?”

Azriel laughed again, softer this time, through a breath. It was odd, really. He wasn’t laughing to be cruel or to embarrass you further. It seemed to you that perhaps he found it endearing—your innocence on the matter—and maybe, just maybe, you reminded him of himself when he too at one point, had no idea either.

“It depends on how strong you have them. Do you smoke blunts or just joints?”

Your eyes widened animatedly. “God, no. Just joints. I think a blunt might wipe me out.”

A glint of warmth and light fluttered through his eyes for a split second. “So, a 3.5 would get you like seven joints.”

“Yeah, that would last me like a week, two weeks.” You nodded. “I’ll have a 3.5 then, thank you.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, and it was only when he reached for the centre console and flipped open a compartment that you saw his hands. His golden skin was marred beyond belief, etched in burns and an array of pigmented colours. Your stomach lurched at the sight. Not from fear or pity or disgust, no. Your stomach twisted in agony, your brain couldn’t comprehend a reason for scars like that.

You looked away as quickly as you clocked them, not wanting to stare and not wanting him to notice. You supposed he was used to lingering gazes, but you would not be a name added to that list of people.

Azriel did nothing but make you feel comfortable in the brief few minutes of meeting one another. He was kind enough to not laugh in your face and kick you out of his car after your admittance. You were not about to make him feel uncomfortable either.

He pulled out a small plastic baggie stuffed to the brim with forest green nuggets and handed it to you between two scarred, pinched fingers. You took it gratefully, a full and genuine smile on your lips now as you thanked him, reaching into the back pocket of your denim shorts for the cash.

“Did you want me to roll them for you, too?” Azriel’s teasing voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes snapped to him with a stern look. “‘Cause that’ll cost you extra.”

“I know how to roll, thank you.” You bit back, and while your voice and tone held all the conviction, the amused glint in your eye and the corners of your mouth told him he hadn’t offended you in the slightest.

“It’s twenty-five.” Azriel chuckled from beside you.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled out two twenty’s, meeting his gaze again. “Isn’t it usually like forty?”

The air now smelt of that tangy, vile scent, something that you don’t think you’d ever get used to. Or enjoy. He shrugged, flipping down the lid of the compartment between you. “You’re a new client.”

You raised a brow now, a taunting smirk creeping at the corner of your mouth. “Do you always undercharge new clients, then?”

Azriel liked you. Very much. You didn’t shy away or hide your personality from him, even after only knowing one another for barely an hour in total. He had a feeling he was barely scraping the surface.

He matched your stare, only he wasn't teasing. “Only the pretty ones.”

There was no hiding the heat that crawled up your neck and sat heavy on your cheeks. It had been a long while since you received a genuine compliment. Let alone one so forward and from someone so unexpected. You averted your gaze from him, looking at the two twenty’s in your hand. Raising them, you pursed your lips.

“I only have two twenty’s on me. So you may as well take the full forty.”

Azriel didn’t listen. Instead, he pinched one note from your hand, his skin brushing yours but you didn’t falter, didn’t shy away. He was warm, and despite the scars and marred skin, his skin was softer than you expected.

You huffed, not ungrateful for the discount but this was his livelihood and taking away from that felt wrong to you.

“Let me know when you’re out.”

You smiled appreciatively and nodded, stuffing the bag and cash into your hoodie pocket and reaching for the door handle. “I will. Nice to meet you, Azriel.”

He watched you climbed out of the car, offering another warm smile as the cooler evening air kissed at his skin. He wanted to ask how you were getting home, if you’d be walking alone or if you needed a ride. But Azriel couldn’t cross those lines, especially not with someone he only just met.

So he bit his tongue and prayed to the Mother above to get you home safely. “You too, Y/N.”

He started up the engine again as soon as the door closed, but he didn’t drive away. He watched you through the rear view mirror until you were out of sight and when he finally looked down, he found his jeans tight around his crotch and a painful erection.

“Fuck.”

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If you enjoyed it, please give it a like and reblog and let me know what you thought!! Thank you for reading <3

Smoke & Light ONLY Tags

@smalljasper289 / @sttvrdustt

Azriel Tags

@serxndipity-ipity-blog / @erencvlt / @azswife / @lili-of-the-wildfire / @dreaming-unafraid / @dr4g0ngirl / @coconut-dreamz

[bet-on-me-13]

Desperate Villain Danny AU

(this is a 17 yr old danny)

It started out slowly.

First, a few of Danny's less active Rouges stopped showing up at all. He didn't really notice, and just assumed that they had finally had their Fill of their Obsession for a while and would simmer down for a bit.

Then, some more of his Rouges stopped showing up. No big deal, but he is getting a little concerned for them. They had definitely not had their fill of their Obsessions yet, why did they stop?

Then, the worst started happen. All of his actual Ghost Friends start to disappear. Ember, Kitty, Johnny, even Amorpho, they all start to not show up at all in the Living World.

He goes looking for them in Realms, but he can't find any of them whatsoever. He tries asking around, but everybody else noticed the disappearances much earlier than him and began to hide away from whatever was taking all of the strong Ghosts. He can't find anybody, and the ones he does find won't tell him anything (or don't know themselves)

It takes weeks of searching, but eventually he gets his answer.

The GIW show up in Amity again after a period of absolutely no activity. They have stepped up their operations HARD. Advanced Ghost Hunting Equipment, Much more Competent Agents, and most worrying of all, they seem to know that Phantom is friends with Sam, Tucker, and Danny Fenton.

The GIW comes to his house for a Meeting with his parents, where he overhears them offering his parents a position in their Organization as Head Scientists. While there they also manage to plant Bugs in Danny's room somehow. Although he finds them quickly enough and destroys them.

And then, one night during dinner while his parents are ranting about the GIWs Labs, they mention something that cinches it for Danny.

"And today we even got to Dissect one of the Spooks! It was that Mind Controlly one, you know the one with the blue firey hair stuff that sang a bunch! We're going back tomorrow to continue our Study, this time we'll see how long it'll pretend to experience pain before it decides to give up on tricking us!"

That night, Danny packed up all his things, destroyed the Ghost Portal alongside everything else in his parents Lab, and left his house.

He tracked down the GIW Base, saved Ember from her Cell, and decimated the surrounding Area. No survivors, none of the research is preserved, and he left the Site Director alive to question him.

Turns out, the GIW had managed to Reverse Engineer the Ghost Portal from that brief period of time where they had taken control of Fenton Works. They had been using their own Portal to kidnap any Ghost they could get their hands on. Using the research from those subjects, they perfected their Ghost Hunting Tech and started going after the bigger fish.

"But good luck finding it, Ecto Scum! The Portals location was hidden to everybody, even me!" He said.

"Where are the others!" Danny cried. He was losing control of his appearance by this point. After seeing what they had done to Ember, he was too angry to maintain his Humanoid Form successfully. Even now, with most of his control, he could hear the Static in the air around him, and see the Glitching of his hands as they clenched this Monsters clothes.

"Scattered!" He said with a crazed laugh, "We knew we couldn't contain all of them, so we send them to all of our sites across the Country! You'll never find them!"

Without another word, Danny plowed his arm through the man's chest.

He turned around, picking up Embers weakened Body, before beginning his long flight to Wisconsin. Vlad still owed him a few Favors after all, and honestly his mentorship offers seemed VERY Tempting right now.

(Why reject him if you don't care about keeping your dad alive anymore?)

...

The JLA had recently received a distress signal from somewhere in the middle of some random Forest in Illinois, but when they got to the location, all they found was a crater filled with the ruins of some kind of Military Base, and so so many Bodies.

They had managed to figure out that this was a Government Site owned by an organization called the GIW. A Paranormal Investigation Wing of the Government focused on the study and capture of Supernatural Beings called Ecto-Entities, otherwise referred to as Ghosts.

As it turns out, an Ecto-Entity that had been terrorizing the local town for a few years now had made a drastic change in normal behavior and had attacked the GIW Base that had been posted there.

They would have destroyed it years ago, but this one was unnaturally powerful. It had eluded their capture and terrorized the Town for years, but they had too much pride to contact the JLA and admit that they needed help. And honestly until now, they didn't really need it. The Entity had been entirely confined to the singular town, and had not strayed from that behavioral Pattern in the 3 years since it's inital sighting. They had made the difficult choice to leave it there, sacrificing one town in exchange for the rest of the country.

But now they did need their help. This Entity, this Phantom, was one of the most powerful beings that had ever recorded, maybe even The Most Powerful. The fact that it had left the Secluded town it usually frequented meant that it was loose to wreak havoc across the rest of the world.

The JLA Needed to Find this thing, and Fast.

[dycefic]

Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.  

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

--

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

[steddieas-shegoes]

to everyone’s shock, Eddie Munson is incredibly organized when it comes to taking trips. he has an itinerary and a packing list, and he’s got his budget figured out weeks in advance. even the smallest road trip for the weekend is planned in great detail so there’s no surprises.

even more shocking is that Steve Harrington is the exact opposite. he closes his eyes and points to a place on a map one day and buys a plane ticket the next. he packs the night before and almost always forgets something because he didn’t make a list and didn’t research the weather patterns for the area.

they drive each other absolutely batty the first few times they travel together.

but then Steve is pointing at a small island near scotland and Eddie is calling airlines and one of only two bed and breakfasts on the island. Steve is setting aside their money for the trip while Eddie packs after calling Jeff’s mom, who vacationed in scotland when all her kids grew up and left the nest.

it all comes together somehow, the two of them making the perfect combination of chaos and control.

when they arrive in scotland, ready to take the ferry to the island, Steve reaches in his backpack for his map of the island and freezes. it’s not there. it’s not in Eddie’s bag either.

it’s one of their most prized possessions for this trip and he lost it.

Eddie comes back from talking to the ferry operator holding a piece of paper and smiling despite the heavy mist descending on them.

it’s the map.

Steve hides his sigh of relief, smiling back.

“you dropped this,” Eddie says casually.

“oh, did I?”

Eddie’s only response is shoving it in his own bag.

yeah, it’s probably best he hold onto that.

it’s not the only time during that trip that Steve messes up one of their plans on accident.

he buys breakfast one morning instead of eating the free one at their bed and breakfast.

“it’s in the name, Steve!”

“I wanted a croissant, Eddie!”

he forgets their rain jackets when they go on a walking tour of the coast and it inevitably rains.

“wet denim isn’t ideal for walking tours, Stevie.”

“I’m well aware, Eds.”

but no matter what, Eddie always gives him that smile. the one that lets him know it’s okay that he’s a little chaotic with this stuff. it’s okay that he’s a little forgetful and more focused on the fun than the making sure everything’s right.

because love is about balance and in every area, that’s exactly what they do.

[littledovesnow]

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

[nottswitch]

doll.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warning: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

my masterlist

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

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Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her. 

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all." 

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this. 

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library. 

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly. 

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind. 

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again. 

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common. 

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder. 

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor." 

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone. 

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls. 

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise. 

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm. 

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said. 

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence. 

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her. 

But it quickly shifted. 

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry. 

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable. 

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked. 

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more. 

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades. 

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason. 

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck. 

She froze in place for a moment. 

This man would die at Cregan's hand. 

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway. 

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him. 

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left. 

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots. 

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift. 

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy. 

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck. 

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze. 

She could feel his smile against her neck. 

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment. 

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband. 

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up. 

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her. 

And the sound of the door opening. 

Her eyes shot open. 

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit. 

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed. 

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned. 

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out. 

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question. 

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

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A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters