#my fault for setting up these deadlines

[imanes]

the heights of excitement that my life has reached now that i have a satisfactory research workflow... indescribable. my everlasting gratitude goes to the three people who recommended i use zotero for both referencing and note-taking because it led my youtube algorithm to recommend using obsidian in parallel as well and since zotero has an obsidian plugin and obsidian has a zotero plugin... like the fact that it's all connected makes me feel giddy with excitement about the POSSIBILITIES... also now looking into zettelkasten as a method for note-taking. i am definitely more into setting up my research ecosystem and workflow than actually researching my topic lol i need to finish this literature review my sunday evening pls send help i need to come up by an outline too rip

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[cleo-fox]

Daylight

Summary: Despite your best efforts, Sunday morning doesn’t go as planned…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, shower sex, fingering, vaginal sex, soft sex, sex that causes you to be several hours late for work, Loki being a (respectful) horn dog.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this yet, but the first fic is here). A/N: This started out as a scene in Overtime that kind of took on a life of its own. You don't necessarily need to read Overtime in order to enjoy or understand this fic, but you'll have more context if you do. Anyway, it was fun revisiting these two idiots--I've got a few more ideas for them up my sleeve, so there will be more in this series at some point.

The sunlight wakes you the next morning.

It’s the same sunlight as always, but it looks different coming through Loki’s window and streaming across his bed. It looks better, you think, splashed across his sheets.

Or maybe it’s the addition of your hand clasped with his resting on those same sheets. Or perhaps it’s the sight of your clothes and his, discarded on the bedroom floor in a pool of sunlight, combined with the fact that you’re still wrapped in his arms. Maybe all of that is why it seems better.

That seems more likely.

You lie still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms and the heat of his skin against your bare back. You are reasonably certain he’s asleep from the steady rhythm of his breath on your neck, but you’re not about to disturb the sleepy calm of the morning to confirm that. 

The clock on his bedside table says it’s just after six. Before last night, you would have said that this was a reasonable time to get up—early enough to ensure that you’re in the office by eight, which would hopefully give you enough time to meet this evening’s deadline, but not so early that it makes you question your life and your choices.

But that was before. Now…well. You suddenly find that your priorities look very different from the comfort of Loki’s bed.

You decide that you didn’t really see the clock. Neither one of you thought to set an alarm last night. Sleeping in was inevitable. That’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into a light doze, warmed by the sunlight and Loki’s embrace.

Sometime later, you’re woken by the soft brush of a kiss against your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, though I did have a bit of a late night,” you say. “Someone kept me up.”

“Really? That was rude of him.”

“Very.”

He’s noticeably—achingly—hard. His lips brush against your neck again. “Perhaps he might make it up to you?”

Your intention is to open your eyes, roll over, and allow yourself to be ravished. But in a development you can only describe as tragic, you happen to catch sight of the clock on his nightstand.

7:38 am.

“Shit,” you say. “It’s almost eight.”

Loki is predictably unconcerned about this. “We don’t have any official hours to keep,” he says, his hand skimming along your ribs and down the curve of your waist. “We have all day.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a ton more to do,” you say, trying to ignore how good he is at kissing your neck or how his hand is drifting down your hip toward the aching pulse between your legs. “We really need every minute.”

“That is true,” he says solemnly. “Perhaps we ought shower together to save time.”

You can’t help but smile. “I kind of feel like you have another agenda.”

“I’d never,” he says.

“The raging hard on pressing against my ass would suggest otherwise.”

You can almost hear him smirk as he gives his hips a teasing little thrust against you. “I contain multitudes.”

You wiggle out of his embrace and slip out of bed. You intend to look back and give him a coquettish look and say something sharp and teasing, but instead, the sight of him takes your breath away. He leans back on his elbows, looking everything like the sort of lounging god you would see depicted in marble at the Parthenon, all chiseled, sharp muscles and clean lines. His cock stands fully erect and deliciously thick, flushed with wanting.

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t reject the offer,” he says, seemingly fully aware of the path of your gaze. His hand drops to his cock and he strokes himself casually, which very nearly sends your sprinting back to bed.

“You’re right,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you throw him your most beguiling look. “So you should probably hurry up.”

You turn and start walking toward the master bathroom. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s following you, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of skin, eyes dark with purpose.

You walk into the master bathroom and are immediately confronted by several flagrant violations of the residential handbook. The TVA is many things, but it is not the sort of place that deviates from set floor plans, nor is it the sort of place that deviates from those plans to install a rainfall shower and soaking tub—in marble, no less.

You think of the stark, vaguely institutional aesthetic in your own master bath and you can’t decide if you’re annoyed at his rule breaking or jealous that he could get away with it.

“I’m not even going to ask if you got approval for this setup because I know you didn’t,” you say as you reach in to the shower to turn on the tap.

“Do you think of anything other than that cursed personnel manual?” he asks as he comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and his lips again finding your neck as he draws you to him.

“First of all, it’s not the personnel manual, it’s the residential handbook, which you specifically agreed to abide by when you signed off on your lease.”

He turns you around so you face him and draws you close, a wicked gleam in his eye, “Oh, I’m going to make you forget all about those ridiculous rules.”

“That’s a pretty tall order—oh.”

His hand is slipping between your legs, stroking your already slick folds.

“I think I’m quite capable of inspiring other passions,” he says, rolling his fingers in a broad circle over the hood of your clit

You loop your arms around his shoulders. You can already feel your knees starting to tremble, but you know he won’t let you fall.

“Bold claim,” you say, “I’m going to need more evidence.”

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot of evidence,” he says softly. He curls a finger inside of you, pressing his thumb against the hood of your clit. “You will have no doubts by the time I’m done presenting my argument. You will be weak-kneed with evidence.”

You shudder as he rocks his hand slowly. He’s touching you enough to stoke the flames of desire, making your hips rock helplessly toward his hand as you try to create that extra friction and pressure that you know will send you flying over the edge. But Loki is meticulous—perhaps even ruthless—about not giving in. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs softly when your latest attempt is thwarted. “Slowly.”

Your pleas become louder and more frequent, but his answer remains the same: slowly. You whimper and beg, but he is resolute.

Steam has fogged up the mirrors and is curling around you when your orgasm finally begins to crest. You suddenly find yourself grateful for his pacing as the intensity builds to a level that makes your knees shake.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you tremble in his arms. “You can come for me now, lovely.”

Like magic, the coil inside you snaps at his command and you cry out as your cunt shudders around his slowly thrusting fingers. Your arms looped around his shoulders are the only thing keeping you standing.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as you sag against him. “Beautiful.”

He gives you a moment to get your bearings before leading you into the shower. He sits down on the marble bench, spreading his thighs wide and pulling you into his lap so you straddle his hips. The spray of the water hits your back as he kisses you again, slow and hungry.

You love everything about this. The heat of the water on your back. The closeness. The way his thighs are spread wide. How his cock presses against your bare cunt. The noise he makes low in his throat when you start rubbing yourself against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and you reach between the two of you to line his cock up at your entrance.

It occurs to you that you could take the opportunity to tease him, to make him beg for you, but pretending that you have any control over your aching need for him is several degrees beyond impossible. So instead, you slowly ease yourself down onto his cock while he groans against your neck, dragging his lips down to the curve of your shoulder.

The feeling of him inside you is still so new that it feels just a little unreal. After all that wanting and yearning and thinking that he was too handsome, too divine, too out of reach to have, he’s suddenly yours and it’s absolutely dizzying. 

You pause for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of unyielding fullness, of connection. Of him.

“All right?” he asks softly.

You open your eyes and his look of sweet concern makes your heart swell. “Yeah,” you say, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “I just—I needed a moment. You feel—” You pause for a moment, searching for the right words, sifting through the effusive and flowery and the things that are true but too early to say. “You just feel really good,” you say.

It sounds wildly inadequate, but he seems to understand, to hear all of the unsaid parts that you’re keeping close to your heart. He could turn away, say it’s too much too soon, that you haven’t even said what you are yet, much less committed to anything serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, drawing you into a slow kiss, his hands framing your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and jaw with the kind of reverence that makes you want to say everything you feel.

“You’re perfect.” He says it in between breaths, with such a disarming sincerity that you can’t bring yourself to try and deflect, to name a flaw or even make a joke.

Later, he will tell you that he was struggling with a similar battle, trying to reconcile how new this was with the depth of feeling that was already blossoming in his chest. He will tell you later that he couldn’t believe you were his, just as you couldn’t believe he was yours, that there was something about you that felt right in a way that made him feel like he knew even then.

But right now, he simply kisses you with a fervor that makes your toes curl and your hips start to move.

It’s only the second time that you’ve done this, but there’s a strange blend of both the new and the familiar. The shape and feel of his body pressed against yours is new, but the way that he moves, the way that he touches you is as though he’s loved you for centuries.

The rhythm you fall into is slow, despite the excuse that this shower was to save time. His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit to add another layer of bliss to the feeling of his cock inside you. Despite your slow pace, your ascent rushes in fast and brilliant as a comet blazing through the night sky. Your back arches, almost as though you’re presenting yourself as an offering to him as you come undone in his arms. Loki watches you with a kind of breathless wonder, brow furrowing in pleasure, his lower lip caught between his teeth at the tight clench of your cunt around his cock.

Your legs are rubbery with pleasure, but you keep going because you need his release as much as your own. You need to feel him empty himself inside of you, to hear the low groan he makes as he unravels, to see the way his eyes flutter shut. You want crescent moon marks on your hips from where his hands gripped you too tightly in that final ascent, physical proof that you can make not just a god forget himself, but Loki specifically. Loki with all his masks and tricks and artful poise; Loki laid bare below you, free from all artifice and glibness, raw and real and just as he is. All the parts of him that make you think that down this path lies something wonderful (not that you’re ready to call it love. Yet).

But Loki is nothing if not predictably unpredictable and he seems determined to make you work before granting you that little glimpse at the heaven that is the god of mischief coming undone beneath you.

“Let me feel you come again,” he murmurs as soon as you catch your breath.

“Is once not enough?” you say, trying and failing to sound cool and calm, like you’re not completely wrecked for him.

“Hardly.” His eyes flash in a way that makes you shiver as he urges your hips into a faster rhythm. “I am not so easily satisfied when my need has been so great.”

You can feel the coil in your hips beginning to tighten again.

“I’ve burned for you for years, my love,” he says, his voice going a little shaky. “Would you deny water to a man dying of thirst?”

You shake your head, your words lost to the oncoming wave of your undoing.

“Then do not deny me your pleasure, I am desperate for you.” He’s panting, barely holding on to his composure. “Now come for me again, let me feel you.”

You are so far gone that it only takes a few more strokes to make you come undone and the first shudder of your climax takes Loki with you.

You savor his pleasure more than your own release, memorizing the sound he makes, the way his lips form a silent plea in the shape of your name until he slides a hand up your neck and pulls you down to kiss him.

His kiss is fierce and hungry at first, but it ebbs to something slower and sweeter as he empties himself into you. He sighs as you tangle your fingers in the wet tendrils of his hair.

It’s a long moment later when you finally break the kiss, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t think we saved any time,” you say.

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I cannot overemphasize how much I do not care about being late in these circumstances.”

You grin. “Not even a little?”

He kisses you sweetly on the mouth before opening his eyes, his lips curling into a slow and satisfied smile. “I would be late every day for the rest of my life for just a few seconds of that.”

His words spark something warm in your chest and you try to hide it with a wry look. “I’m not sure that you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

He kisses you softly. “You don’t know how good you feel.”

“You’re one to talk,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he deepens the kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours and the feeling of him smiling as he kisses you is a kind of luxury you’ve never imagined. It takes you a while to untangle yourselves, but you can’t find it in yourself to move any faster.

The actual showering part of your shower is slow and unhurried and you find that Loki’s hands are equally gifted at these mundane tasks. His fingers have a knack for finding every stubborn knot in your neck and shoulders, which he explores leisurely under the pretext of washing your back. The press of his fingers unwinds the tension in your shoulders, loosening up muscles that have been too tense for too long.

“You are way too good at this,” you say.

“Just one of my many talents,” he says, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “Though perhaps I ought to stop—I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to ignore that little bit of sass.”

He chuckles against your shoulder. “You’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see.”

The sweet, almost chaste kisses he’s been pressing against your neck and shoulders are gradually growing slower, more insistent. When you feel the tip of his tongue draw a quick, teasing line on your neck, you know that you might be in trouble.

His hands slide to your waist, drawing you close enough that you can feel that he’s hard again. 

“I’m sensing some ulterior motives,” you say.

“A bold accusation,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“We can’t have sex again,” you laugh.

“Mmm, we could,” he says in between kisses. “There’s nothing stopping us from having sex again.”

“We are already running late—”

“I thought I was very clear about my feelings on timeliness in these circumstances.” He nips at your earlobe and you shiver. “And would you really deprive me of the utter bliss of coming undone inside you?”

“It’s more like rescheduling than depriving you of anything.”

“I’ve waited so long, darling.”

“We just had sex like…less than an hour ago,” you say through a laugh.

“Ah, but the days before that were so terribly long,” he says.

You turn to face him, thinking this will make things easier for you. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation because now you have to contend with the fire in his eyes and the twin flame that it summons low in your hips.

Fuck. 

You are definitely going to have sex again.

His eyes glitter like he knows and he slowly walks you backwards until you’re pressed between him and the shower wall.

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” you say as he peppers your neck with slow, decadent kisses. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about my mouth in about thirty seconds.”

And with a wicked and hungry grin, he slowly sinks to his knees.

It’s 10:48am when you finally walk into the office.

Even though you are now several hours later than you intended and the stack of files is no less imposing, you feel nothing but a pleasant glow of happiness as you take your seat. Loki sits down in the chair next to you and this time, he sneaks his foot underneath your desk and hooks his ankle under yours.

He catches your eye and smiles. “I can be a little more obvious now.”

You put on your most exaggerated expression of mock seriousness. “Only a little. This is a workplace, after all.”

He adopts a similar expression and nods. “Of course. I imagine there will be paperwork as well.”

“There actually is a form we’ll need to file with HR,” you say.

Loki frowns. “Wait, you’re not being serious about that, are you?”

“Yep. We’ll need to file it by next Friday.”

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “Is there anything that this place hasn’t managed to weigh down with the burden of unnecessary bureaucracy?”

“I see we’re in a good mood this morning.” Mobius has arrived, cup of coffee in hand. He nods at Loki and looks at you. “How long has he been raging against the machine?”

“Not terribly long,” you say as Loki rolls his eyes.

“It’s not raging against anything,” he says. “I just fail to see the point of some of this organization’s operational practices.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at you. “You told him he has to fill out a form, huh?”

“Got it in one,” you say as Loki scowls.

Mobius chuckles and takes a sip of coffee. “You should hear him during performance evaluation season. I get entire monologues. It’s like Hamlet meets HR.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order not to laugh.

“It looks like you made good progress, though,” says Mobius, looking at your completed stacks of files. “I took a look at what you pulled earlier this morning and there’s some good stuff.”

“Oh, good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think much of the fact that neither one of you was in the office earlier this morning. “What time do you think you’ll need the rest done?”

“Right, about that,” says Mobius. You steel yourself for bad news. “I took a look at what you pulled so far and I think I’ve got what I need.”

You blink at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” he says. “Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

You look at Loki, who looks just as pleasantly surprised as you feel.

“In fact, you can take the rest of the week off,” says Mobius. “Triple overtime, right? You earned the time.” 

“This feels like a trick,” says Loki. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” says Mobius. “You did good work.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “However—”

“And there’s the catch,” says Loki.

“There’s no catch,” says Mobius. He gestures at you with his coffee cup. “I’m just going to need you both to turn in the relevant paperwork to HR by next Friday.”

Loki sighs, though you can tell he’s fighting a smile. “There’s absolutely no privacy here.”

Mobius raises his eyebrows. “You’re playing footsie under the desk. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

You look at Loki and shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re taking his side?”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “Well, you can sulk about it if you’d like, but I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend.” You share a sly, secret smile with Mobius. “I’ll see you next week, Mobius.”

It takes Loki approximately twenty seconds to catch up with you.

“And you say I’m incorrigible,” he says as he falls into step beside you.

You smile at him. “I think you’ll get over it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He catches your band, fingers twining with yours. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Hadn’t decided,” you say, biting back a smile. “Did you have any suggestions?”

“Well, I’d like to start by going back to bed.”

“To sleep?” you tease. 

“Eventually.” He licks his lips. “And since our respective schedules have been cleared for the week, we’ll be able to take our time.”

The hunger in his eyes is still so new and intoxicating that you can’t help the shiver that works its way up your spine.

You give him a slow smile. “Lead the way.”

[puripurin]

— "What the fuck." You started at the merman who wriggled around for space. His eyes looked at you in fear as he saw you, before a blush had spread across his face.

Up until 30 seconds ago, you had lived a normal life, well, except for the obscene amount of work you were stressed out with. So you hopped on the boat your parents had gifted you some years ago and sailed into the sea. The feel of the ocean breeze hitting your face was a familiar sensation to you.

This was because your parents were fishermen and loved to eat seafood, and naturally, you had gravitated towards seafood, but with prices these days and your never-ending workload, it didn't allow you to do anything without setting you back on your tight deadlines. Until today.

You had gotten a whole week of paid vacation because a coworker was threatening to bring them to court for a long list of harassment. So they gave the people who worked the most a one week paid vacation. Though, to her, it wasn't enough, so you're getting a paid vacation week while they are still going to get sued. Whatever, its their fault either way.

Anyways, how did you reel in a merman that shouldn't even exist? Frankly, you don't know either. You had accidentally started to daydream, which turned into you not realizing something was caught, so instinctively, you were able to reel in a merman.

"H-huuuumann?" His deep moss green eyes stared at up at you with interest whilst you nearly got blinded by the shimmering gleem of his scales that were scattered across his cheeks. He stopped his advancements towards you until it was difficult to hold up his neck to see you.

"Erm... sorry for catching you, I was daydreaming. I'll unhook the fish hook attached to you..." You apologized and went down to unhook him, only for him to pull down your pants and underwear down, making you fall on the bench below you and stuffing his face in your genitals.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?" You pushed his face away, to which he pouted to. He sat there for a while as you tried to push him off the boat, to no avail.

"I... Accceppt thhis marrriaage!" He excitedly said as he tugged on your pants to gently pull it off again, but you held on tightly to your pants.

"What marriage? I didn't propose to you?" You evaded from his pulling hands in confusion.

"Whennn youuu reeeeledd mmeee inn dummmyy!" He slurred his words once more. "Shtop! I waant too tasstte you firrst beeforrre you tassteeee mee!" He huffed before his nails turned into sharp claws that shreaded your pants, then pulled down your underwear again and happily stuffing his face and licking your crotch with his tongue that felt rough.

Once more, you tried to move away but only ended up moaning at the feeling. Your face was slightly hot as you looked away but was swiftly pulled back in for a kiss, tasting your own fluids.

"Ah... finally... now it's your turn, cutie pie. We have to go to my hometown to get married <3"

"WHAT!?!? Firstly, no! Secondly, i will drown!"

"... Who said you can say no? When you reeled me, it was akin to a marriage proposal. Also, that's why you suck my dick and kiss me <333"

"WHAT--"

Was supposed to be posted yesterday, but when i saved a portion of it, i didn't see that i was save so i went back in to edit it to see what's rong before i saved it and for a slpilt second i saw the rest of it before it saved, so i lost majority of my work.

So now it looks like tjis. Womp womp. I think tjis is an afab reader? But i tried to make it gn as possible but i wannted a weird ass mermaid culture where to speak another's language, you gotta eat them out/suck them off before kissing person to speak. At first i wanted him to just kiss in order to get the language js like starfire but i was like,, so what do i do with him tryna eat you out??,, then boom yeahh.

Also, yo quero voy en me casaaaaaa *cries pathetically* No me gusta Español :((((((( not proofread. L

Edit: i forgot about tags. Mb.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

bella PLEWSDE WRITE A GRAYSON HAWTHORNE BLURB OR WHAYEVER WITH READER WITH LOW IRON AND LIKE SHE ALMOST FAINTS BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY ZERO. ZERO FICS THAY HAVE THE READER WITH LOW IRON SO PPELAPSPESLLEPWDLEEL

AHHHHHH BELLE LET ME JUST BEGIN WITH AN APOLOGY BECAUSE I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS FIC HAS TAKEN ME THREE BILLION YEARS TO GET AROUND TO WRITING!! THANK YOU FOR YOU REQUEST AND I PRAYYYY THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED…. (if not I will redo)

title: I’m fine

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: a story where ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m totally not fine but I’m not going to admit that’

warnings: dizziness, fainting

a/n: dedicating this to the beautiful @midiosaamor 💖💖 ily <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi @peppapigsposts @foreverwinter22

It only started as a headache, not bad enough to be classed as a migraine but bad enough to be considered more than your average headache. Still, I carried on typing the words out on my computer, my brain pulsating in pain.

I didn’t have time to rest off a headache, there was too much to do. I’d only started working four hours ago and if I didn’t get this done by tonight then my boss would not be happy. I mean it wasn’t exactly my fault she decided set me an assignment with a deadline on the same day but still, I had to work it all out and push through.

The tasks seemed endless, I typed word after word, in a state of not really registering what I was writing, just making the robotic movements to write. Clicking the keys and forming coherent sentences without anything being properly processed. It wasn’t unusual, I was used to my brain working faster than my body sometimes.

Still, my head throbbed on. For a second, I stopped the incessant tapping on my keyboard and pressed two fingertips softly to each temple. My hands were ice cold. I breathed in and out deeply a few times with my eyes shut before beginning to work again, praying a tiny reset would be what I needed. I knew I was lying to myself, I knew it would take more than that to soothe any pain but I carried on like I didn’t.

“Are you alright?”

As small gasp escaped my lips as I looked up to see Grayson standing in the doorframe, one hand at the top taking most of his weight. I wondered how long he’d been stood there and I hadn’t noticed.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in reply, going back to finish the sentence I was typing before I lost my train of thought. Then I looked back up at him again, “why?”

He walked in slowly looking at my face intently, “you look a little pale.”

He took my face into his palms and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. Small, gentle, long strokes, that made me lean into him further. I wanted to just curl up in his arms and sleep, but my work clearly had other ideas.

“Just a headache,” I brushed it off, pulling away from his touch reluctantly, “is there any aspirin?”

“There is,” he nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, “but I really think you ought to lay down if it’s this bad.”

“I don’t need to,” I shook my head stubbornly, standing up to look him dead in the eye, “I’m fine.”

What a lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he told me softly, the anxiety rippling across his perfected features. His hands curved around the small of my back and I tried to enjoy it instead of thinking about the throbbing of my head.

So despite my ache, I smiled, “well I feel fine.”

Sometimes I lied so easily and so well it worried me. I shouldn’t be this good at something so cruel. But maybe more than him, I was lying to myself to convince a part of me that I wasn’t as feeling as bad as I thought I felt.

Grayson gave me another worried glance, thumb running up and down the base of my spine rhythmically, the softness of his touch sending a chill through it.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked me, the tingling up my back dying down.

“Earlier,” I nodded, my eyes flicking the time in the bottom corner of my screen realising my ‘earlier’ actually meant six hours ago. On cue, my stomach seized in a hungry protest, sending a tight knot like sensation across my abdomen. I prayed it wouldn’t grumble, betraying my lies to Gray.

“I haven’t seen you eat or-“

“Stop the fussing,” I grinned to bear it, “I’m fine, just need a tablet and some water.”

“Maybe lay off the work then,” he suggested, cocking his head towards my computer screen.

“Grayson I need to get this done,” I sighed gently, “a little headache can’t stop me.”

“Okay…” he said unsurely, hesitating for a few seconds.

“Stop worrying,” I forced a laugh through my searing brain, glancing up at him and looking through those truth-reeling gray eyes.

“I’m not,” his right hand twitches at my side. Liar. “Sit down and I’ll go and get you the aspirin, okay?”

“Okay then,” I nodded, sitting down. Another chill ran through my spine, though this time it was because of the empty place left where his hands had just been.

I took a few more deep breaths, feeling a little out of it all of a sudden. It was like I was in the room but I wasn’t at the same time. I closed my eyes and let the weight of my skull fall into my palms, breathing even deeper, heavier.

I let myself hang, like a lifeless marionette forgotten by her puppeteer, everything leaden and dopey. When I heard Grayson coming back and quickly opened my eyes and sat up a little bit straighter. If he saw me like that he’d get stressed and that’s the last he needed. It was only a headache after all.

Just a really bad headache.

“Thank you,” I kissed him on the cheek as he passed me the aspirin pill and a glass of water.

He cupped my face in his hands, “you promise me you’re fine?”

“I promise promise promise you,” I whispered, feigning another smile. My jaw was starting to ache. I don’t know it’s it from the guilt of lying or the forceful action of smiling or maybe it was just the headache transferring.

I took the tablet between my fingertips and put it at the back of my mouth before swallowing it quickly with water. I shivered afterwards. I hate taking tablets.

Grayson squeezed my shoulders softly, “do you want me to stay here?”

“Didn’t I just ‘promise promise promise’ you I was fine?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He looked at me and sighed. Worry ran riot across his eyes, swirling anxious thoughts into pools of grey. How bad did I look?

“I haven’t got much work left to do, okay?” I said, “I just need to get through this.”

He took his time walking out and although I didn’t look at him I was convinced he kept looking back every through steps to check on me. Finally he left and I downed the glass of water.

I sat still for a moment, analysing how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible but my head had worsened. I internally groaned as dread filled my body. It wasn’t supposed to worsen. I prayed the tablet would kick in, after all I hadn’t really given it a chance.

I took a long breath out and continued tapping away at the keypad. After a while the continuous clicking and clacking was beginning to irritate me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. My already pounding head felt pounded with the small noises over and over like they were making a mockery of it. Still I continued, there wasn’t much left now and if I could just finish it l, all would be okay.

After about a billion spell checks - seriously why does psychology have a ‘p’ and ‘h’ in it, it’s so irrelevant - I thought I might be ready to finish when I realised I’d missed a whole section.

By now my head was almost unbearable. Torturous agony was creeping up behind my eye now as well as the front of my head. A whole section felt like it would be the death of me. And I’d noticed something weirdly unnatural about my breathing. Every breath in didn’t feel like enough oxygen. So I began to breathe more deeply and when that wasn’t working, more quickly.

That only fuelled my rising panic about the weird nature of these symptoms. They were familiar. Why couldn’t I breathe normally? What was wrong? Maybe it was more than a headache? Questions raced through my head faster than it had time to process them all.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head pounded on and like the idiot that I am, I carried on writing. My vision blurred out for a fraction of a second then cleared shortly after. I rubbed my eyes. It was just the screen. Just the screen.

It happened a few more times, so I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jumper for good measure. More notes, more notes, more notes, more notes. I quickly hit save in the document for fear if my computer crashed I would lose it all. I sighed as I then went to drink from my water glass only to realise it was empty.

“Gray!” I yelled, “could you grab me another glass of water please?”

I barely registered his reply, my only focus being the stupid piece of work. ‘I can last a little longer’ I repeated over and over in my mind. Until I was bored. Until I was delirious. Until I was too brain dead to care.

I could hear Grayson approaching so got up to meet him at the door. I wanted a ten second break from staring straight at the glowing screen. Suddenly, mid step, I stumbled. Straight away Grayson had one hand around the small of my back gripping tightly and the another on my upper arm, steadying me. I try to laugh it off as a I mistake but even that sounded weak.

“Woah sweetheart,” he said, his hold firmer as he set me straight, “what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, trying to get back to my chair, my legs feeling too much like jelly for my liking.

I could see he didn’t believe me completely, he didn’t have to say a word. Grayson, instead, took me in his arms. I couldn’t ask to sit down after that, then I’d be admitting that something was wrong. So I stayed standing, my body against his. The only thing holding me up was him.

He looked at me, tender eyed and consumed with concern, “you’re clearly not my love.”

“Gray, I just tripped,” I said smoothly, praying he’d let me twist the truth as I tried to stop my legs from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured in a low voice, curling his other arm around my waist for support.

“I’m not lying,” I shrugged, continuing to be in denial as I gripped to his shirt so tightly my knuckles went white, “I’m fine.”

As soon as the words left my lips everything spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against his chest, hoping it would all just go away. My feet swayed a little and panic seized my throat at the unsteadiness. I made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a silent scream.

“It’s okay,” Grayson whispered softly, “I’ve got you.” He brought a hand up through the back of my hair and gently held onto the back of my head to steady it.

“Dizzy,” I murmured into him, my voice slurred and slowed. I felt so out of it.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. My concept of time was as hazy as my vision. I just remembered staying very still, Grayson’s hands not leaving my body and how hard my forehead was pressed against him.

After a while, I tried to stand back on my own, thinking the dizzy spell was over but as soon as I did the room became a whirlpool of colours and blob-ish shapes. I felt myself lose my footing completely and before I knew it was falling backwards.

Strong arms tensed around my torso and quickly caught me, “oh sweetheart,” I heard Grayson say as he safely lowered me to the ground.

My legs became lifeless pieces of flesh, heavy as led but weak as a flimsy childhood doll. My head felt heavy in his lap as it pounded on. I sewed my eyes shut, it helped a little with the dizziness. His cold fingers tentatively touched my forehead and I leant into them ever so slightly with what energy I had left.

“I’m going to carry you to bed,” he told me gently, as I felt one arm around my back and the other under my legs.

“But my work-“ I groaned, feeling a little nauseated from the dizziness.

He held me tightly, “no sweetheart, forget about work, you need to rest.”

I didn’t reply and instead feebly gripped my deadened limbs around his neck and prayed for all of this to just go away.

“Gray,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine,” I said, somewhere between a sob and mumble.

“I know sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a shaky kiss on my temple, “I know.”

He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed, before tucking me under the covers. Not letting go of my hand, that gripped him so tightly I don’t know how he didn’t complain. I heard him dialling a number.

“Who are you calling?” I slurred.

“Someone to come and help you,” he responded swiftly.

“Mhmm,” I could only muster in response.

His thumb rubbed circles up and down my hand, “I’m going to stay right here okay?” he comforted, “can you still hear me?”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, feeling quite pathetic but not self-conscience enough to care.

“No I’m staying sweetheart,” he squeezed my palm in his, “I’m staying.”

My eyes fluttered open as my head lazily lolled to one side, “I’m dizzy,” I groaned, not remembering if I’d mentioned already.

“I know,” Grayson whispered, a hand pushing my hair out of the way, “I know.”

“Can I rest my eyes?” I asked him, closing them anyway.

“No, you can’t go to sleep,” he told me.

“No just rest my eyes…” I trailed off, pausing for a long while, my train of thought wavering, “…to stop the spinning.”

“Squeeze my hand every three seconds then,” he said, “so I know you’re awake.”

“Deal,” I barely managed to whisper before I felt the need to increase my breathing rate. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my system.

I squeezed his hand every three seconds, just about keeping track of the numbers. But with every squeeze I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker, like all of my energy was being drained slowly and mercilessly. The only thing that kept me from closing my eyes was Grayson’s gentle touches. His soft fingertips trailing over my face, tracing the contours or drawing spirals on my upper arms and neck.

I opened my eyes for a moment, when the darkness was just as bad as the light, when I felt dizzy no matter whether my eyes were closed or open. Things blurred and cleared, darkened and became normal again over and over and over. Until, a piercing ringing coursed through my ears and everything other sound seemed to be submerged under water. I knew what that meant I was close to.

“Gray,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out,” I told him, a single tear trailing its way down my cheek, “I can feel it.”

I knew the signs well enough and every sign was pointing that way.

“It’s okay,” he said, positioning himself behind me, so my back was pressed against his torso and he could support my head, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to pass out,” I sobbed, black spots dancing across my vision in mockery.

The worst part is always before you passed out because when you’re out you feel and remember nothing. But before, you know what’s coming and you know you can’t stop it.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled into my hair, slowly, comfortingly, “you’re safe, if you need to pass out, you can and your body will, whether you like it or not.”

My hands were shaking, fingers rocking back and forth, bumping into one another clumsily, “I’m scared,” I said between uneven breaths.

I grabbed Grayson’s forearm to attempt to still them, my fingers so brutally desperate in their clinging that they constricted his blood flow. No matter how many times I’d passed out,, I always felt just as scared.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed gently, “I’ve got you, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise,” I panted, looking up at him, chest rising up and down harshly.

“I promise,” he leant down and planted a sweet of kiss on my nose.

I kept looking up, until his gray eyes clouded with dark spots, until calm expression replaced with an endless see of nothingness, until the whisperings of sweet words ceased. My breathing was heavy, growing heavier by the second and then… then there was black.

***

I felt thick and heavy with drowsiness. My body felt so weighted it ached. My back was against the mattress, my head flat on the pillow, I was anchored to my bed. The covers had been adjusted to just under my neck and I could feel someone’s hand in mine.

I winced as I opened my eyes, the light attacking them too viciously. Immediately Grayson dimmed it down, holding my cheek tentatively in his palm.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Gray?”

He traced a soft thumb over the bone where my eyebrow sat as he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Here,” he said gently, “have some water.”

Slowly he helped me prop myself up, his hand pressed up against my back, the other tipping the glass towards my lips. I swallowed, the water feeling odd against the dryness of my throat.

“How long was I out for?” I coughed.

“Only a bit,” he said, laying me back down, “the doctors have come and gone, they say you’ll be okay with some rest.”

“Why did I pass out?” I asked tiredly, “do they know?”

“You hadn’t taken your iron tablets in three days,” Grayson explained, cocking his head towards my table.

I glanced to my bedside and gasped. Three days worth of unconsumed tablets sat there. I never usually forgot, one day maybe but three whole days. That was unheard of. Guilt permeated me, all the stress I’d probably put Grayson under could’ve been entirely prevented.

“I must’ve forgotten,” I sighed leaning deeper into my pillow, “work has just been so hectic lately and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t tell you to worry you, I told you so you wouldn’t overthink what was wrong,” he said softly, “but it’s okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay because it’s all my fault,” I bursted into tears, the shock wave of random emotion leaving me senseless, “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you I wasn’t fine and then I just passed out and that probably really stressed you out and I could’ve stopped all of that if I’d just taken the stupid tablets.”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a palm flat on my chest, “breathe, it’s okay.”

His voice was the constant in my current of chaotic overthinking. This had happened before many times, my low iron deficiency had always been an issue, but even the very first time I’d passed out he was so much calmer than I’d expected.

He kept calm for me.

“God I feel like an idiot,” I choked out a pathetic laugh, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

“You’re not an idiot, love,” he soothed, taking my hand gently into his and replacing with with the pad of his thumb, as he gently wiped away the tears that were left, “it happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” I shook my head defiantly.

I don’t forget things. I never forget things.

“Hey,” Grayson said, “look at me, you’re fine, I’m fine and that’s all that’s important.”

He held my face in his palms and looked at me like I meant the world.

“I’m sorry,” I let the weight of my head fall into his hands, taking the ache from my neck.

“Don’t apologise,” he said, “there’s no need for you to, just relax.”

I closed my eyes, his palm warm and comforting against my cheek. His fingers found their way to the top of my head, soothingly running through my hair over my scalp.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” he asked.

I nodded sleepily and watched as he slipped into the bed beside me. I was quick to snuggle close, intertwining my legs with his and burying my face into his chest. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear as his arms curved around my waist.

“Tired,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he ushered, “you can go to sleep.”

“What if you go?” I asked, like a child.

“I won’t, I promise,” Grayson said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

I smiled to myself, and squeezed his arm, “I love you,” I murmured, “so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he planted a kiss on the top of my head, “more than this world. Get some rest now.”

So I shut my eyes and fell longingly into sleep’s arms.

a/n: hope you enjoyed guys, sorry I haven’t posted much 💖💖

TIG masterlist

[aangarchy]

Opinions. I have them and I want to share them. On the Netflix live action specifically.

It's a little over a year since the release of Netflix ATLA and since then I've kind of just been stewing on it angrily as if it's insulted my mother or something, and there's more things that I've been meaning to say that I never mentioned in my original reviews, specifically on why I think this live action is doomed to fail. It all has to do with media literacy, because these writers don't seem to fucking have any.

An example I want to talk about is the waterbending scroll. I want to bring this up specifically because this is a mistake m night shyamalan's movie also made. I will be referring to them as Natla (netflix atla) and tla (the last airbender movie).

Both natla and tla have the waterbending scroll in their story. I'm sure the writers gave themselves a pat on the back for including this important story element. But what is very apparent is that they do not understand why this scroll is in the story, because in both live actions Katara gets handed the scroll by someone. In tla she gets it handed by strangers who tell her it was stolen from her people by the fire nation and that she should be given it back. In natla, she gets handed the scroll from gran gran. In both of these instances this scroll can be replaced with literally any other object. It could be a rock that strengthens a bender, it could be a letter written by someone, it could be a stick. In both versions, the narrative reason for the scroll being there in the first place is missing completely.

In the original show, the scroll is specifically part of the story to develop Katara's character, because she doesn't just get it handed to her, she steals it. And it's a decision she makes herself without discussing it with anyone else. Katara going out of her way to steal the scroll from pirates, and not really seeing an issue with it because the pirates stole it from someone else first, tells us a lot about Katara's moral compass and how she sometimes likes to twist her ethics to fit her own narrative. In any other instance Katara would tell people stealing is wrong. Literally later on in book 3 she tells Toph something similar, that she can't just scam people just because they were scamming her. But because this scroll is something she desperately wants so she can improve her own waterbending, she tells herself it's fine to steal this because it didn't belong to those pirates in the first place. She believes as a waterbender she has more right to own this scroll than those pirates do. It shows us how committed she is to learning waterbending and connecting to that part of her culture, because she's willing to go quite far in order to achieve this. Later though she gets faced with the consequences of her own actions, because stealing the scroll lead to the pirates teaming up with Zuko and chasing her and her friends, which ends up endangering Aang.

In this episode she also obsesses over the scroll to a toxic degree. One of the excuses she uses to justify her stealing it is because she wants Aang to learn too. But it becomes obvious that this is just an excuse, because she tries to claim the scroll for herself by saying Aang can have his turn after she learns, even though it's kind of more prudent for Aang to learn first as the Avatar (because the episode before this we literally just learned about the comet and our end of summer deadline to learn all four elements). It shows that Katara isn't some goodie two shoes, and that she has some ugly sides to her. She can be sneaky, selfish, stubborn, immature, and has difficulties letting go when she has her mind set on something. Then when Aang gets caught by Zuko she realizes that she caused all of this, and she apologizes to Aang who then tries to be a good boy and tell her it isn't her fault, but then Iroh kind of throws it back in her face that yeah, this is in fact her fault.

This episode also shows us development between Aang and Katara's relationship. We learn that Aang being naturally better at something is a difficult thing for Katara to swallow, and while Aang tries to make her feel better by encouraging her and telling her she's a great teacher, he doesn't manage to solve the problem which is that she feels inferior to him here. Later on, he acknowledges that just like him, Katara is a waterbender. She doesn't just know some waterbending moves, she IS a waterbender. Then they work together to escape, this makes Katara feel better, and it strengthens their bond.

This entire plotline is the reason for the waterbending scroll existing in the original storyline, but all of that is missing from both live actions even though they also have the waterbending scroll in their story. I'm sure these live action writers don't see the problem, they probably think the pirate episode is just filler they can cut without consequences, because the scroll is the only thing that's retained in the rest of the story after this episode. But that's simply not the case. This episode is much more consequential, even though it's not immediately obvious or visible, and that's what these live action writers do not seem to grasp, which is what I mean when I say they lack media literacy. They think the only thing that makes that episode worthwhile is the object that is obtained, and because they don't want to go through the hassle of adapting the whole pirate episode the only element they keep is the scroll. But everything about this scroll and why it's narratively necessary is removed.

This lack of understanding of character development and how to write a good story is why Katara's character is so bland in both live actions. All her agency gets removed. She doesn't decide to steal the scroll, she doesn't decide to help Aang save the world, she doesn't decide to ignore Sokka's instincts on Jet, she doesn't decide to deliberately ignore the northern watertribe's customs on bending.

The worst part for natla specifically is that the writers seem to understand that certain moments in the show need to happen, but they don't understand why. Katara needs to fight Pakku because she's so angry about the northern watertribe's sexism, this ties in to Sokka's sexism earlier in the season. She went through the trouble of traveling all the way to the north, stealing a waterbending scroll, getting burned by Aang on accident to discover her healing abilities, and now she's being told she can't train to fight simply because she's a girl? She's been confronted with sexism her whole life and she knows she's capable of more, so she's done succumbing to it, she fights the patriarchy by fighting Pakku. In natla she fights him too, but her anger lies solely with Pakku not willing to teach her, and not with sexism as a whole. She didn't fight that whole season in natla in order to learn waterbending, she just simply trained a bit and got better because boys told her she was strong, so there's no anger for her to feel towards Pakku because there's no buildup. The writers know the Pakku fight needs to happen but they removed everything in the story that leads to Katara fighting Pakku.

A similar thing happens with certain side characters. The writers understand that Teo and The Mechanist are important characters, and we need to add them so we can have them show up for the invasion too. But they don't understand what their purpose was in the original show in the first place, which was character development for Aang. Similar with Jet, he was there for Sokka's character, this episode showed us Sokka is intuitive and intelligent, but doesn't get taken seriously because he's the goofy nonbender older brother. That also gets removed in natla, because Sokka doesn't even interact with Jet more than once. He doesn't even get told Jet's name at all!

This is the biggest writing flaw that is recurring throughout the whole first season of natla, and probably won't be solved in the next seasons. I've seen a lot of people say natla is good because they got more things right than tla, but imo natla is just as bad as tla with similar reasons. Just because the costumes looked more like the original, or because they added more things that happened in the original than the movie did, does not mean natla is good whatsoever. I'd argue it kind of even makes it worse, because natla shows the trouble these people went through to have more accuracy than the shyamalan movie, and yet they still missed the mark this badly. I'm honestly angrier at this live action than the movie, and I might not be the only one.

[godslino]

ORANGE PEELS | minho established relationship. fluff.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 1.2k warnings: brief mention of not eating (nothing serious, reader is just really busy!) summary: minho and the orange peel theory

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

“Well hello there beautifu—oh, okay. Or not.”

Minho blinks at the empty space where you’d just been standing, dumbfounded at the lack of enthusiasm at his arrival. When he realizes you’re not coming back, long gone into the living room, he makes his way inside.

“Sorry! I have to finish!” You call over your shoulder, hurrying back to your laptop. You seat yourself on the floor, back against the couch as you resume typing.

There are sounds of Minho toeing his shoes off at the door, bags being placed on the counter, and then eventually the rustling of his jacket as he shucks it off and throws it across the back of the couch.

“You’re not done yet?” He asks, crouching beside you. He knocks a kiss to your temple, and you let yourself lean into the touch for a moment.

“No,” you sigh, “I have, like, five pages left.”

“Babe, you realize it’s almost seven-thirty, right?”

“I know!”

“Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up in surrender.

Minho disappears after that, knowing how much you need space and silence when you’re focusing. You feel bad about it afterwards, not meaning to snap at him especially since tonight was supposed to be date night.

The two of you had plans to stay in; Minho was going to cook a small dinner while you picked out a series of movies, and then the both of you were going to plant yourselves on the couch for the remainder of the evening and celebrate the rare occasion of being off of work on the same night.

Everything got derailed when you woke up that morning and saw that you had an email notification from one of your professors:

Good morning all,

A gentle reminder that your reports are due by 11:59pm. Late work will be accepted with the stipulation that 10 points are deducted for each day that has passed since the original due date. If you have any questions about my late work policy, please refer to the syllabus.

Happy Friday!

Best Regards,

Professor Kang

The whole thing is entirely your fault. You’d failed to realize that the deadline had been pushed up by a week, your mind still under the impression that you had time to finish. Thankfully, you’d at least started the report. The down side was that out of a fifteen page paper, you only had around five done.

So, after a few messages to Minho where you apologized profusely, followed by a phone call where he reassured you that it was fine, the two of you still decided to go through with your plans. You’d been glued to your computer all day, desperately trying to finish before Minho was set to arrive. But as it turns out, the rubric for the assignment is a lot more detailed than you had originally thought, so the process has been rather slow.

“Have you eaten?” Minho calls from the kitchen, followed by the sound of your cupboards opening and closing. You respond with a sound of dismissal, your eyes scanning the screen for any typos.

“Babe?” He tries again.

“Huh? What? No, I haven’t.”

“Wrong answer.”

“Minho, I don’t have time—”

“I don’t care.” He says, his voice much closer this time. “How do you expect to get anything done if you’re hungry?”

“Haven’t even had a chance to be hungry if I’m being honest.”

“Wrong answer. Again.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug, looking up at him. He’s standing over you with his arms crossed, a disapproving look on his face.

When you turn your attention back to your laptop, he sighs in defeat, walking back towards the kitchen. You close your eyes for a moment, reminding yourself that he’s only trying to look out for you. Minho has never been a fan of your tendency to neglect yourself, especially in times of stress. So, in lieu of upsetting him, you call out,

“Can you toss me one of the oranges on the counter?”

Minho doesn’t respond. He’s probably sulking, something he always does whenever he’s upset. You briefly consider getting up to kiss the pout he’s probably sporting off of his face. But the clock is ticking, and if you finish the report, there’ll be more than enough time to do that later.

You’re so engrossed in your work, a helpful article that you managed to stumble upon giving you a huge amount of evidence for your final argument, that you don’t even realize it when Minho plops down on the floor beside you. You open your mouth to say something, turn your head towards him, and are met by his hand shoving a piece of orange into your mouth.

“Eat.” He says firmly, blinking when you slowly begin to chew. You stare at him with a confused look, releasing some of the tension between your eyebrows when he brings a finger up to poke the spot in the middle of them. “If you won’t do it yourself, I’ll do it for you. Just eat.”

You swallow, a small smile forming on your lips. Minho isn’t paying attention, his focus on the peeled orange in his hands as he breaks the pieces off one by one.

Soft and loving. Minho has always treated you the way you deserve. There’s never been a moment where you questioned how much he cares for you, not when he makes sure that you’re always his first priority. It doesn’t matter how tired he is, he’s always there, always ready and willing, always giving.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, laughing when he suppresses a smile, the shells of his ears a bright pink. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Yeah and you’re a chronic procrastinator.” He’s quick to bite back, holding up another piece of the orange to your mouth. You take it from him gladly, and he can’t help but finally crack a smile.

“I’m sorry I ruined date night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Minho says, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I already told you, it doesn’t matter what we do. I’m just happy we’re together.”

His words make warmth bloom in your chest. You turn to him, squishing his cheeks in both your hands. He blinks, “What?”

“Lee Minho. How did I get so lucky?”

He laughs at that, breathy and muffled from the way his face sits in your hands. “Well for starters, I’m the one who asked for your number, so if you really wanna get technical then—” He’s cut off when you lean forward and plant a big kiss on his lips.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Minho pouts when you pull away.

“You were getting cocky, I had to do something.”

“Says the person who ruined date night.”

“Hey! You said I didn’t—”

He shoves another piece of orange into your mouth, laughing when you cough around his fingers. He’s up and running in the blink of an eye, dodging your arms when you try to grab for his shirt. Minho’s quick, he waits for the opportunity and lunges for your waist, throwing you over his shoulder with a squeal. You beat your fists against his back, not really putting up a fight, though you’ll never admit that.

There’s only a few hours left until your report is due, but you can’t be bothered to care. Not when Minho is pinning you against the couch, hands poking your sides as he tickles you and kisses all over your face, the sound of both your laughter filling the apartment and the faint scent of oranges on his fingertips.

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[darlingshane]

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

[denjjisgf]

untitled 2.03

eren jaeger x reader

SYNOPSIS ✧˚⋆｡ when the end of the semester gets busy, you find yourself swamped with grading papers. if only you could get some time away from your needy boyfriend.

CONTENT WARNINGS✧˚⋆｡ general: 18+ minors dni, (afab) grad student reader nsfw: somno/cnc, m! masturbation, oral (f! receiving), squirting, panty sniffing

W/C✧˚⋆｡ 2.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE✧˚⋆｡i was thinking about this post while writing it (nsfw gif!!)

finals week on campus is nothing more than the school buildings being powered by stress and caffeine as students and professors scramble to meet deadlines. it’s your final stretch. its been a nonstop course schedules and years of thinking, “is this even worth it?”, but this past year, you were accepted into university x’s graduate accelerated course. you were just a stack of 1st years’ papers and a couple eren-free nights away from graduating.

“i don’t know why i have to suffer when it's your fault for assigning the homework to begin with,” he’s tugging at the hem of your shirt as you pour coffee into a mug. you're both off today- free from classes and work- and situated in the breakfast nook of your “shared” apartment. shared is a loose term the two of you choose to describe your living situation. you find stray socks that don’t belong to you under the couch and he buys new hangers to hang up his clothes in your closet.

“i know, but we both know i'd get no work done with you here. i’m absolutely drowning in my students final papers.” eren separates from your hip to pull open the fridge, grabbing the creamer from the door, "so stay away for just this weekend. please?" he twists the lid off and begins to pour some into your mugs, "what am i supposed to do in the meantime?" he pouts.

he sets the carton onto the counter with attitude, the liquid sloshing as it hits the sides aggressively. with bed head and a frustrated knit of his brows, he looks like a spoiled child, you can't help but laugh, "i trust you'll find something to do with yourself. you're resourceful!"

you hear him huff, unsatisfied and extremely discouraged by your firm stance. he drops it and for the rest of the morning, you two sipped from your mugs and soaked in the sun, tucked under bed sheets.

you didn't hear any lip from eren for the rest of the week. you were honestly shocked- not once has he listened to you so easily, with such little resistance. he had to be up to something, you thought. but you let that worming feeling of suspicion recede into your thoughts and brought your tasks to your forefront. you got a full eight hours of sleep every night for the first time in ages.

on saturday night, you ordered yourself some take out, set up a pillow fort on the couch, and readied yourself to grade the stack of research papers sitting on the coffee table. halfway through the folder, your eyes began to feel heavy, the words blurring and floating off the pages. you had been at it for hours, the sun long set. shifting your work off your lap and onto the floor, you let your head hit the cushion and drifted off to sleep.

you had a key made for eren months ago. he never used it, choosing to pick you up and go home with you on most days, so he never needed it. but on the rare chance, he'd let himself in to surprise you with dinner or tidy up after a long day. tonight, when he slipped his key into the keyhole, he caught his heartbeat in his throat, turning the knob so slowly, urging the hinges not to creak as he snuck into your place.

he knew he wasn't supposed to be here. you had specifically asked him to stay home for the weekend and let you be. but it was saturday and it was late. it had been so long since he spent a weekend alone, in bed, alone, and the tickle that pulled his abdomen tight and made his cock jerk at the thought of you guided him here.

slipping his shoes off, he straightened them along the wall and walked softly to the living room. he smiled to himself, his chest warming with adoration at you curled on the couch. you just looked so cute!

his eyes traced your face, locs of hair framing your sleeping face and the slight open of your mouth puffing sweet exhales. he was in love all over again, like seeing you for the first time, he let the butterflies settle in his stomach. you rolled to your stomach and let one leg roll off the side of the couch.

eren swallowed, this time, his gaze latched to the little exposed skin peeking out from under the blanket. in an instant, he dropped to his knees, crawling to the edge of the couch. his hand skated across pages and he panicked, hoping the shuffling sound wouldn't wake you while he reorganized your work stuff and slid it out of the way.

eren felt silly getting so worked up over your bare leg, like a virgin, his mind raced. he was dizzy on your scent filling the familiar apartment, dizzy from your figure outlined under the blanket, dizzy from the painful ache of his cock. he let his palm fall to his lap, languidly jerking it over his sweats to alleviate himself.

he imagined you waking up, overjoyed to see your boyfriend, not angry at all that he let himself in and started jerking off to you sleeping, and smacking kisses over his face and neck.

after a few minutes, teasing hands dipped below the waistband of his sweats. eren toyed with the idea, taking a sigh as he watched you sleep and pulled his fully hard dick out of its confinement. he dragged his finger to collect the precum beading at his tip and continued to fuck into his fist, trying his hardest not to let the wet squelching stir you awake. he was panting, a fist in his mouth to hold in his weak moans. it had been so long since he'd seen you (not even week), he was dying for your touch, to feel you in his grasp, it was driving him crazy.

so he let himself go closer and pulled the blanket up over your side, carefully, and let it fall off the couch. long abandoning his cock, he let his hands roam your lower body. eren was grateful you were on your tummy, you must've felt him coming, he thought giddily.

he let his hands run along your legs, kissing at your ankles and making his way up. situating himself on the floor and between your legs, his hands made work of dragging you closer to the edge until your knees were resting just over his shoulders and your cunt was at eye level.

his cock bobbed against his abs, red and angry, and his chest hot with desire. he fought the urge to touch himself, if he wanted to jerk off, he could’ve just stayed home! he came here for you, he told himself, he wanted a taste of that sweet honeyed slick you were keeping from him.

he let himself go. he let his fingers toy with your shorts, massaging your thighs under the fabric, letting himself re familiarize with the curve of your ass. curious fingers slid to tug at the fabric and in one swoop, he was freeing you of your pajamas. he slipped them off each leg, his nails dragging against your skin to watch the way you shiver in your sleep.

all that stood in the way was your underwear now. eren sat and admired the wet spot growing between your legs, soaking the fabric. his breath was shaky as he was tried to keep his cool, but it was getting harder for him to want to hold back. you were whimpering with every touch now and eren could feel your skin getting hot.

it was risky taking your shorts off completely, he thought, worried you'd wake up any minute. he was getting bolder with his actions, and you were reacting so well to him, he was sure you wouldn't mind if he took it another step farther. so he planted kisses against your skin, pushing up on his feet to get closer to your clothed cunt. his fingers worked to shimmy the band of your panties lower until the material was slipping off and onto his face.

he let himself breath in the scent, his mind fraying as he pressed your panties to his face. his tongue wet the fabric and he groaned when he finally got to taste you. his hands were still on you, pulling your cheeks apart as he stared with fervor at your tight holes inches away from him. eren knew he was getting rough, a little too rough if he intended on keeping you asleep the entire time.

"you know i can't live without this," he stuck two fingers in his mouth to wet them, then brought them to your pussy messily. he lets them roam without intention; he didn't want you feel good yet, he wanted you so worked up, you needed to feel good. he smiled when you moaned softly at the sensation of his tongue, the warm stripe of his saliva hot as he swallows the sticky precum collecting with every pulse of your pussy.

he lapped up everything you gave him. his fingers worked nonstop, molding your ass between them, pushing his face further between your legs. it's not enough, he was growing tired of waiting, tired of being gentle, and tired of hearing you so quietly moan his name, he needed you to scream it. he moaned when his tongue dipped into your tight hole and you clenched down at the intrusion. your slick poured over his tongue and his eyes rolled at the taste.

"to think you thought you could keep this from me," he groaned as he roughly grabbed you, rolling your plump ass cheeks between his hands, kneading at the fat and landing a harsh slap against it. you jerked awake at the impact, legs locking in fear and eyes foggy with sleep. you tried to get away, squirming on the couch, only to be held tight in someone's grasp. your heart raced and goosebumps raised on your skin, anxious of the situation you were in.

"good morning, sweetheart," he cooed with another smack of your ass.

eren. of course it was him. your body was hot and your head was light, every nerve and sensation focused on eren between your legs. his hand clapped against your ass again, this time harder than the other two and you yelped at the pain. his thumb was circling your clit, each time it dragged down, the pad of it pulled its hood back and sent chills down your spine.

with you now awake, eren felt no need to go gentle on you anymore. he smiled into your pussy and pushed two fingers deep, letting them curve down to caress your g spot. you were grinding down into his hand and stringy drips of slick and saliva made a mess on the couch cushion.

his mind was thick in fog, his vision narrowed on the sweet pull of your cunt as his fingers plunged in and out, deeper in and watched them strain to pull out. his cock was begging to be touched, pleading for eren to snap and shove his length inside of you, but he couldn't tear his lips away, his moans buzzing against your clit and making you tremble.

another slap against your ass, another roll of your hips, and eren was cumming, thick ropes spilling out from his cock and spreading messily on his lower abdomen. his face flushed bright red and he was panting against your pussy, still eating you out while he came. fat droplets dripped onto the carpet below him while he let out whines, his balls drained empty.

but he couldn't stop, he had waited for you all week, and after all you were so stressed, he wanted to be of some use. he winced as he grabbed his softening cock in his hand, jerking it a few times to get himself hard once again. you were grinding along his tongue now, he could tell with each needy drag that you were chasing your orgasm.

"well would ya look at that? all you needed was a little relief- dontcha feel better now baby," he said teasingly, smiling like a fool with every kiss against your ass. his hand was furious as he overstimulated you, the flat of three fingers rubbing your cunt raw in mind numbing circles. each slow drag of his palm, the middle finger catching to hook inside of your hole, slipping in so slightly before pulling out with pressure.

your muscles felt tight, the strain in your calves burned, willing you to collapse into his touch, crying, "stop- mmph- i can't take anymore!" your lewd slick was everywhere, coating his hand, your plush thighs, and left your skin cold as the air hit it. you ached, grasping at straws and for your breath, for any moment to think straight, "e-eren, please," you hiccup. he took his time; slowly, he breathed against your skin and selfishly inhaled your scent.

he plunged his fingers inside of you, long enough to make you throb around them but too short to feel any pleasure, he teased you relentlessly. and he grinned a shit eating smile, lost entirely in the loud squelch of your cunt. he spat on your clit and let his fingers work fast on rubbing circles.

your chest flushed and you felt the familiar coil pull tight in your gut, you were so close, it hurt. eren was all too much, his fingers still dragging against your walls. each pull had wetness spilling from your hole and into his greedy mouth. your legs were about to give out, they were shaking around his head and your back bowed when he pushed you deeper into the couch, his hands coming around your waist to hold you in place.

he could tell you were close, you moans were short and quick as you gasped for air. in the corner of his eye, he could see your hands grasping for stability on the cushion as he finger fucked you to heaven.

he pushed a third finger in and you both moaned at the stretch. a strange sensation filled your womb and you felt your body go cold. your entire body seized up in eren's hands, but he continued his assault, slow strokes of his fingers now faster. your hands shot down to shove his hands away as you came, clear liquid shooting out from you as you cried in pleasure. your mind felt blank as your body went rigid, and eren fought with your fingers to let his own back in your cunt. he desperately craved the feeling of your clenching down on him.

he selfishly swallowed your cum, letting his face get drenched in you. his cock was hard now, again, as you tried to regain your breath. you rolled onto your back and shot him a look of disapproval, "what the fuck, eren?!" still between your legs, he squirmed up from the floor and to lay on top of you.

he pouted and nuzzled his head against your chest. "i just missed you, that's all," he said, his bottom lip pushed out and puppy dog eyes at work. you tossed your head to the side, away from his gaze, and sighed, "still i thought i told you not to come over. don't you ever listen?'

despite your scolding words, you couldn't help but deny you missed your boyfriend. however, he complete disregarded what you said all the time and gets away with it every time! you're weak to his efforts of persuasion. so when you turn to meet his gaze, unfaltering and only full of love, you smile and lean in for a kiss.

[wriitingwoes79]

Naughty Neighbors

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Y/N

Summary: You and Miguel are neighbors in an apartment in Nueva York. There’s a mutual not-so-quiet dislike for each other despite your best efforts to make nice, but it seems the both of you are reaching a breaking point.

Content Warning: a hint of dub-con, mention of masturbation/sex toys, thigh riding, dirty talk, exhibitionism

WC: ~1.2k

AN: this is BARELY edited, but thank my bestie @whaddayadothatfor for helping me out with this! Go check out her Miguel O’Hara and JJK fics <3

MDNI!!!

Miguel O’Hara had to be the worst neighbor in the history of neighbors.


But as terrible as he was, that didn’t stop you from rocking your hips back and forth so that your clit and pussy slickly slid over the length of his generously sized and veined dick as he pressed you hard against the walls of the hallway.


*before the ‘incident’*


Miguel made it his life’s work to be absolutely insufferable. He was rude, constantly making racket and always seemed to be around at the worst time.


You had had trouble sleeping lately, so you did what any newly single gal with frustrations up to your knees would do: pull out the vibrator and go to work. In all honesty though, you’d had to use it even when you weren’t single too.


You used it more than you’d liked to admit—so much in fact that it needed new batteries and died mid act just as you could hear Miguel rumbling around on his side of the wall. As a result, you couldn’t sleep.


It had ended up setting the tone for the day: waking up too late, cursing over frizzy hair, spilling your coffee on the subway and eventually being berated at work by your boss over a deadline. It didn’t help that your boyfriend had been avoiding you for the past few days after declaring the two of you “take a break”.


You ordered takeout from a place down the street after returning home and changed into comfortable clothes to wear around the house and figured while you waited you might as well go check your mail.


You went through your mail slot in the lobby of the apartment building, finding Miguel’s among yours. You tried his slot only to find it was locked, of course, and sighed.


You would have to talk to him. 


For anyone else, that wouldn’t have been a problem. You were friendly with everyone on the floor—minus Miguel. He was rude, aloof, and often met you with silence when you tried your friendly neighbor tactics. Even when you first moved in and brought over a tray of muffins, he’d declined and slammed the door in your face hard enough the knocker rattled.


He wasn’t your enemy or anything silly like that. No, he was just a fucking douche bag. And there were plenty of those in this building and in this goddamn city, anyways.


Still, determined to be the better person (either to a fault or out of spite), you knocked on his door. You could hear the shuffling and heavy footsteps even through the door, and a sigh sounded between it before it swung open.


Oh, fuck.


Unfortunately, there was always a nagging thought in your mind when Miguel crossed it—he was undeniably attractive. It made it that much more frustrating that he was rude and so cold to you.


Today was no fucking better.


He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest as his dark eyes scanned over your form. They widened slightly as they took in your cropped tank top and fuzzy pajama shorts that did little to cover your generous assets but they snapped back up to your eyes when you shook the mail lightly in front of him.


“Hey neighbor,” you said in a slight sing-song voice. “I have some of your mail. It got mixed in with mine again.” You hold out the mail and he looks down at it.


“I don’t need it.”


You paused, brows furrowing. God, he was frustrating.


“You don’t need your mail?” You asked incredulously. “It’s literally bills. One of these is the electric and gas company! What do you mean you don’t need them?”


“You snooping through my mail now, Y/L/N?” His gruff voice is a near purr as he says your last name and you huff in annoyance.


“Of course not, that would be illegal,” you retort, stressing the syllables of “illegal”. “Just like how it should be illegal to be that terrible of a next door neighbor.” Miguel laughed coldly, the muscles on his chest and biceps pushing through his white tee. The grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips did little to keep your imagination in check and you backed away, still holding out the mail.


“I’m the terrible neighbor? You think I like listening to what happens on your side of the wall?”


Your mouth gaped open in shock.


“What do I even do?”


“You think I don’t have to deal with the shit I have to hear on your side?” He leaned in dangerously close, his lips tilted up in a mocking sneer.


“Like what?” You pressed, crossing your arms over the flimsy tank top you wore.


“The arguments between you and your boyfriend, the noises you make in the morning….the noises you make at night.”


“What noises?” Your cheeks were already starting to feel hot as he bent down to lean closer, his arms still crossed.


“The noises you don’t think anyone hears,” he says quietly, his voice rough and rumbling in the air between the two of you. “I hear everything through that wall. And I’m surprised that little toy of yours last night had any juice left.”


You acted before any actual thought could cross your mind and the next thing you knew— your hand was stinging and Miguel’s sculpted face was red on his right cheek.


“I…I’m sorry,” you squeaked out, cradling your hand. You backed from his door, the letters falling to the floor. Perhaps if you ran fast enough you could just make a quick getaway. Miguel’s eyes blinked before narrowing, now dark as his pupils widened.

“Don’t try and run off now.”

***


“You think I’m gonna sit idly by while you disrespect me like that?” Miguel’s voice was gravelly and deep, his hands gripping both the front of your thighs and your breasts now pulled from the flimsy tank top as his own hips pushed hard and slow against your ass.


Over and over, the length and head of his dick caught your clit and rubbed dangerously to the point of indescribable pleasure. You hadn’t felt like this in so long.


You hadn’t been touched like this in so long, you were desperate to cum. Desperate to do anything he wanted if it meant you could cum.


“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Miguel remarked, sighing as he nuzzled into your neck, his canines teasing on your sensitive skin. “Deep down this is want you wanted, huh?”


“P-please,” you stammered, unable to form any coherent thought as the wet sounds began to echo in the hallway. You moaned as every muscle in your body began to tense up from a building orgasm.


“What would the neighbors think if they caught you out here like this?" Miguel taunted. "What a naughty little neighbor you are."


"I'm n...I'm not--" 

The ding of the elevator down the hall interrupted the both of you, and in a flash, Miguel had pulled your tank top and shorts back up over your exposed parts, tucking his dick back into the waist band of his sweatpants. Before you could even turn around to say anything to him he'd slammed his door closed, the forgotten mail littered all over the ground. 

The worst neighbor, you seethed.

[ohsoimaginari]

i’ll be here | knj

synopsis: reader has had a very bad and kim namjoon, ever the angel, makes it all better

cw: angst (maybe a mild panic attack and toxic work environment and like one mention of namjoon dieting), fluff, established relationship, squint and it’s an idol au

fem!reader boyfriend!namjoon (tbh it can be gn because there aren’t any mentions of pronouns or anything specific)

words: 1536

an: absolutely not happy with the ending lmao i had no idea how to end this sorry in advance

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“So what does this one do?” Namjoon asks as you neatly pat the face mask down onto his skin.

“It’s a rejuvenating face mask.”

He makes a sound of approval. “I can feel its effects already. Feel younger already.”

You giggle. “Oh really? So quickly?”

“Yeah. Can feel it in my heart too. But maybe that’s just you.”

“Stop making me laugh. I want it to sit properly,” you playfully scold between poorly suppressed giggles.

Once you’re finished, you get off his lap and plop on the seat next to him. “How long should it be on for?”

“Fifteen or so.” Your face lolls to the side and unsurprisingly find Namjoon already watching you quietly. He reaches for your hand and pulls it onto his thigh, gently toying with your fingers. Your heart swells at the touch and helps you forget about the day you’ve had.

As soon as you entered the door, you were met with your boyfriend’s concerned face in greeting. You were immediately filled with a wave of relief and frustration, and finally gave in to the overwhelming urge to cry.

Namjoon knew work had been incredibly stressful for you the past few weeks. Your supervisor barely made it easy for you. It seemed as though they were adamant on finding every little fault in every document you’d handed to them.

You’d vented out your frustrations to him at first and he was happy to lend a listening ear but overtime, he noticed you withdrawing and telling him less and less. Whenever he’d ask you about it, you’d always respond that you finally have everything under control and everything was fine now.

Truth is, if anything, you felt it had only gotten worse. The deadlines your supervisor set were getting more and more impossible to meet and oftentimes you were forced to pull all nighters—thankful your loving boyfriend wasn’t home most times to see you do so as it would only increase his worry. That’s something you didn’t want to do.

You already knew he had a lot on his shoulders and felt as if you would be burdening him with your own problems and so you made the decision that you’d handle everything yourself from now on regarding work and find other ways to cope. However, much to your dismay, It was nearly impossible and soon you found yourself at a breaking point.

Namjoon had been texting you throughout the day to check in but you hadn’t responded.

You’d locked yourself in the bathroom, allowing yourself five minutes to cry before going back to work; something you’d been doing for the past week or so.

You’d stared at Namjoon’s recent text, your hand shakily hovering over the keypad but your mind wouldn’t cooperate on what to say in response.

Ultimately you found yourself dialling his number and placed your phone to your ear. “Baby?” The warmth in his tone, albeit worried, generated fresh tears.

“Will you be home today?” you asked. You hated how small your voice came out. You even thought there was no way he could’ve possibly heard you.

“I’ll come home,” he said in soft reassurance which only made you sob in return. You hated bothering him but you couldn’t help that you needed him right now.

Once you hung up, you took in a deep breath to calm your nerves and prepared yourself to get through the long day ahead which was why when he gathered you up in his arms later on upon your arrival, you didn’t protest.

You held on to him as if letting go would cause you to fall apart and fully sobbed into him. Namjoon had moved you both to the sofa with you on top as he allowed you time to let it all out. He softly stroked your arm as he whispered soothing words into your hair. You thought you’d feel embarrassed.

In the two years you’d been dating, you don’t recall a time you’d ever let him see you like this. Sure, you’d had bad days but none that have gotten to you the way today had. You didn’t feel embarrassed. All you felt was momentary relief to finally let it all go in a safe space.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head.

Today had been exceptionally difficult and your supervisor’s words still rang clear in your head. You wanted nothing more than to forget.

Namjoon knew the protocol for when you didn’t want to talk. He lay you down on the sofa, kissing your temple before he disappeared into the bathroom. It wasn’t long after where you heard the running water filling the bath.

You didn’t know when it happened but he’d come back and he’d gathered you in his arms again, you still sniffing and choking back sobs. He helped you undress and also with setting you in the warm water. He’d run you a bath with dried rose petals floating on top and what smelled like clary sage bath oil.

“Join me?” you’d asked him, although it sounded more like a plea. Your lower lip still quivered as you hugged your legs tightly to your chest and looked at him from where he was sitting. He nodded and got undressed himself before sitting behind you and enveloping you in his arms.

You both leaned back as you enjoyed the water, your tension already leaving your body in his arms. You closed your eyes and sighed, melting deeper in his embrace and the bath.

Namjoon would occasionally pour water on your body and place small kisses on your temple, neck and shoulder. You felt like for the first time the whole day—the whole week—that you could breathe again. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart gave such a steady and practiced beat.

Once you both had finished and the water had turned cold, Namjoon got out of the bath and helped you out as well, wrapping you in a towel before leading you to your bedroom.

You’d gotten dressed and felt infinitely lighter than when coming through your door earlier which was how you found yourself on the couch with Namjoon, asking him to join you in your nighttime skincare routine. It had been the first time he’d heard the playful tone in your voice in what felt like forever and so he happily obliged.

He’d gone out of his way to ensure it stayed that way, cracking jokes which made you cackle and bury your head in his neck in embarrassment. Namjoon joined in and both of you were giggling messes by the time you’d finished applying the mask and sat in comfortable silence as you were currently, enjoying each other’s presence.

You knew Namjoon’s mind was racing with questions he wanted to ask you about your day, about why you hid it away from him, about how he could help you solve the problem but you knew he held himself back and would wait for you to approach him.

You lean in and place a tender kiss on his cheek—or at least on the face mask, his dimpled smile in response warming you ever more.

“Thank you.”

“I’m always here. No matter what,” he says earnestly which only tugs more at your heartstrings.

Fearing you’d burst into tears again, this time because of your overwhelming love for this man, you simply nod and resume your position next to him.

“Do we still have ice cream?”

Namjoon thinks. “Just enough for tonight, I think. I’ll grab it and we can eat it while watching a movie or a show. Whichever one you prefer.”

“You don’t have to join me. I know you’re on a diet again.”

Namjoon shrugs. “I’ll just spend more time in the gym. My baby needs me tonight.”

You playfully roll your eyes before grabbing the remote from the table in front. From the mischievous twinkle in your eyes, Namjoon already knew what you’d choose. He groans.

“I heard the new season of Love is Blind was worth watching,” you pout at his resigned posture.

Namjoon sighs as he rescinds himself to the inevitable. “I’ll go get the ice-cream.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. You get more invested than me!” You call after him as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“No, I get more invested for you,” he jokingly corrects once he returns with the tub and two spoons in his hands.

He sets them down on the table in front. He hands you a spoon while he takes the other. He gathers some on his spoon and is about to dig in when he notices you waiting with your mouth open. It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he places his spoon in your mouth with the ice cream intended for him but you see his expression soften as you gleam at him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m glad I have you to make me feel better,” you tease.

He smiles and brings your hand to his lips to kiss it and as you both settle down for a cosy night in, you couldn’t be more grateful for the man who’d always be there for you when you need him most.

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once again so sorry for this ending 😭

until next time, stay safe everyone 🩷

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

19. “I want you. I need you.” Agatha Harkness

Overworked

Agatha Harkness x Big Boss!Fem!Reader

Summary: Agatha always brings you breakfast, and you want to reward her for being so good.

Word Count: 958

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strap sucking (A sucks R's strap), R is overworking herself

A/N: Idk guys the last half of this I wrote while I was high~

Agatha had always been someone who always knew what she wanted. If she wanted someone's attention she took it and if she wanted someone's love she had it. With you though it had been different.

You were young, smart, rich; Agatha was immediately smitten by you and she tried to make it obvious, but all of her advances went ignored. Sure you were nice enough to her, you took the coffees she gave you and the bagels every morning like clock work.

You'd always be here before her and she wondered if you ever slept or left the office for that matter. You were the first one in and Agatha was sure you were the last one out. It's no surprise you had made team manager in less than a year and by the next year director of the floor.

One morning Agatha came in like always and made her way to your office. Before the door opened one hand was up ready to take the cup. Agatha smiled at you. You looked like you hadn't slept which was probably true with the deadlines coming up.

You absolutely needed the coffee. You'd been holding off taking a break knowing Agatha would show up. As you finish up your thought for an email to send out, taking the first sip and tasting your favorite blend with a smile.

“Thank you Aggie. You have no idea how much I need this.” You felt the ache in your back as you tried to stretch. You'd been hunched over your desk and laptop for hours now. An empty coffee cup and energy drink forgotten on the other side of your desk.

Agatha set down the bagel next to you with a smile as she tidied up your desk. Unwrapping the bagel, stuffed with cream cheese; you take a bite. Your stomach is thankful to have something other than caffeine and sugar.

“You don't have to do that sweetie. You aren't my assistant.” You say through a mouthful.

“Didn't your assistant quit last week?” Agatha raised an eyebrow, making you look away. You had a reputation for making your assistants quit. It wasn't your fault they couldn't keep up. “Besides I don't mind helping dear. I want to help you.” Agatha was the only one you allowed to give you a pet name. If anyone else did they'd be lectured about it.

“I appreciate it sweetie. I appreciate you coming in with breakfast every morning. I appreciate your attentiveness to everything about this job.” You caught Agatha off guard as she just stared for a moment before coming over to you.

You looked up from your seated position until she dropped to her knees, startling you momentarily until she looked up at you. Your heart fluttered and your stomach flipped. She looked perfect beneath you. Without thinking in your sleep deprived state you reached out, running your fingers through her hair. Your hand ran through her dark locks before swiping back so you cupped her cheek.

“You're always such a good girl sweetie. You know good girls deserve rewards.” You spoke, your voice dropping into a sultry tone. You felt Agatha shiver under your touch and words.

“I want you. I need you. All I've ever wanted is to be good enough for you.” Agatha admitted, a plea in her voice as her hands tightened on your pants.

“You should have said something sooner.” You brush your thumb over her soft skins, admiring the feeling.

“I tried dropping hints…” She tried to look away but you pulled her back.

“I'm not good with hints. I'm a very direct person sweetie you should know this by now.” Agatha nodded in understanding.

“I promise I'll be more direct from now on.” You smiled at her, the eagerness to please you.

“You're going to be a good girl for me aren't you?” she nodded eagerly. You unbutton your pants, pulling out your strap you wore almost all of the time. “I know you want to suck me off. Go on darling.” You helped guide her onto your faux cock which her lips wrapped around perfectly.

You watched her head bobbed magnificently, her movements shifting the strap perfectly against your clit. A low moan coming out of your mouth.

“Just like that darling. Keep going gonna make me cum sweet thing.” At the mention of cumming her movements speeding up. You threw your head back as she took you over the edge. “Fuck…Aggie…” You rolled your hips and she easily kept taking you down her throat until you fell back. Her lips popping off your cock. Her eyes sparkling up at you. “Did such a good job.”

She brushed up against your thigh before getting up as you tucked yourself back in. Getting yourself ready to get back to work.

“What are you doing?” Agatha asked.

“Getting back to work?” You looked up at her.

“It's Saturday dear.” She told you, your face scrunching up.

“No, it's Friday.”

“Dear…look at your phone.” You did and your face dropped.

“Oh so it is.” You looked back up at her. “So, wanna come back to my place?” You raised an eyebrow as you stood up, turning off your laptop.

“I would love to.” She smiled, grabbing your bag and coat, the two of you heading out together. You reached out, grabbing her hand and interlocked your fingers together as you headed down to the parking garage.

Agatha sighed, your body on hers as you breathed in and out evenly. Her fingers running through your hair.

“You know I didn't have this in mind, but this is what you needed dear.” Agatha whispered, kissing your forehead, making you smile in your sleep. This was exactly what both of you needed.

[1997starcandy]

jfk x jackie one-shots!

noticed that many of you on here wanted more jfk x jackie fics and i did too and so i waited but got a little impatient and thought, why not write some myself!!! anyway, i’ve never done this before and tried my best to stay true to history and their real-life counterparts. i hope i don’t disappoint and most of these were, unfortunately, quite rushed and messy with minimal proof so i apologize in advance :(((

“miss bouvier?” a young assistant, barely out of college, held out an envelope with a sheepish smile. “a man in a suit dropped this off for you. he said it was important.”

jackie thanked her before taking the envelope and watching her disappear down the hall. what was it now? she thought, trying to breathe through the headache pounding behindher eyes.

she’d been late - the cab she’d rushed to catch broke down halfway, and by th time she arrived at the office, she was already behind on a deadline. even the typewriter seemed determined to conspire against her, jamming so often she’d nearly tossed it out the window. by two o’ clock, her blouse had wrinkled and had been stained with blotches of coffee. really, she’d had half a mind to cancel the whole afternoon, but just when she thought she might’ve been at wit’s end, she recognized the scrawl across the front of the telegram.

AM TRYING TO GET THROUGH A REPORT, BUT YOU, JACQUELINE, HAVE ME SO DISTRACTED I’VE HARDLY GOT THE FAINTEST CLUE WHAT I’M READING. IF THE COUNTRY FALLS APART, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.

IT’S MUCH TOO DULL COUNTING DOWN THE MINUTES. PLEASE HURRY AND RELIEVE THIS POOR SENATOR OF HIS AGONY.

JACK

she leaned back in her chair and read it again, unable to suppress the smile that followed. trust jack to send something that, despite being equal parts ridiculous and endearing, was exactly what she needed. 

whatever else the day had in store, she’d learn to manage it somehow. and if she couldn’t, well, she supposed jack could shoulder the blame this time. 

the car was too fast for jackie’s liking, but she didn’t mind. 

jack had picked her up outside her office shortly after four, his car parked half a block away, engine idling, as if he hadn’t wanted to attract too much attention. 

“i thought you and i could use an escape for a while,” he said, his mouth curling into a half-smile once she’d settled into her seat.

an escape, she mused quietly - but he didn’t need to explain. by that point, jackie had learned that jack kennedy never really asked. he suggested, he beckoned, and people followed. 

the air carried the chill of autumn, though the sun was still warm enough to glid everything it touched. her scarf fluttered against her cheek as the wind rushed past, and she reached up to hold it in place. a new hermès - navy and gold, bought impulsively, the colors complementing the neat suit she’d worn to work that morning.

jack reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. his touch lingered there for just a moment, soft and purposeful. “you’re not nervous, are you?” he asked, his tone light but probing. 

“of course not,” she said, though hemr own fingers betrayed her, curling tightly around the edge of her seat. 

he laughed then, the kind that felt like it wasn’t mean to disarm you but did anyway. “good. because there’s no going slow in this life, jackie. not if you want to get anywhere worth going.”

she studied his profile for a moment - sharp, assured, touched by the glow of the setting sun. he had a recklessness to him, but it was oddly measured and thoughtful in a way that came from someone who knew exactly how far he could push before the world would bend to meet him. 

“where are we going, then?” she asked, trying to match his nonchalance while ignoring the thrill seeping in. 

“you’ll see.”

she wanted to tell him she was already there - that sitting next to him felt like the kind of adventure she’d spent her life waiting for. but she didn’t. maybe another time. instead, she leaned back and loosened her grip on the seat until her hands were flying around the fabric of his suit, laughing as she mentioned something about him needing to work on his style - and him brushing off the comment with a casual flick of his finger at his collar - before adjusting the pearl clip that held her hair in place and letting the wind tangle through the strands as the car surged forward, its force as electric as the man driving it.

meeting the kennedys was like stepping into another world - a loud, chaotic, and impossibly magnetic one. jack’s siblings filled the house with noise and energy, while jackie was still trying to get her bearings when they were all ushered to ethe dinner table. 

before they sat down, jack said to jackie with a grin, “they’re like sharks. if they sense weakness, you’re chum.” 

“thanks, jack. very reassuring.” 

she smoothed her dress and straightened up, glancing at him. “do you think ‘sweet jackie’ could perfect this? oh, i never thought about it that way! my, mrs. kennedy, what lovely china! is that limoges?” 

jack snorted and leaned in, just a bit - “what about ‘just jackie’?” came his suggestion. 

she smiled and relaxed. “i like that.” 

everyone took their seats, and for a while, jackie let their conversation stack all up on one another. it wasn’t long before bobby leaned over, his grin conspiratorial. “so, jackie,” he said, loud enough to draw the room’s attention, “how do you put up with my brother?” 

‘just jackie’ didn’t miss a beat. “selective hearing,” she said lightly, raising her glass fora sip of her cocktail, “and a lot of prayer.” 

the table erupted into laughter, even jack, who was shaking his head. “you’ll fit in just fine,” he murmured to her afterwards, reaching under the table to briefly squeeze her hand.

jack had asked jackie to be his date to eisenhower’s inaugural ball, and she found herself accepting surprisingly quickly. how could she reject an evening spent in jack’s company? it was hard to say no to him, but of course, she’d never let him know that. 

when she stepped into the main rolm, she noticed jack’s eyes on her immediately. he was standing by the door, looking impossibly calm for someone who had been waiting pins and needles for her to show up. his expression didn’t betray him - his hands were tucked casually in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed - but the moment she began walking towards him, he softened just the slightest, and she wondered if he was even seeing anyone else.

“christ, jackie…”

she couldn’t help smiling, tilting her head just enough to flatter him. “good or bad?”

“good. good,” he said quickly. “it’s just you.”

she slid her arm through his and followed his steps. “well, don’t let the rest of the room think it’s just me.”

“never. you always did that part yourself.”

they wove through the crowd for a while, exchanging nods and polite greetings. at one point, jackie felt slightly overwhelmed by all the formality - and wondered how people like jack could do this forever and not lose the will to live - but jack’s proximity had a way of keeping her grounded. eventually, they ended up in the ballroom, where the orchestra struck up a waltz that seemed far more elegant than either of them. still, they tried. jack wasn’t the most graceful dancer - his movements were a bit stiff, his rhythm half a step off - but jackie didn’t care the slightest. in fact, she found herself laughing as he spun her a little too quickly, sending her off balance and nearly collidin g with another couple.

“jack!” she gasped, clutching his shoulder to steady herself. “if you do that again, you might ruin my shoes.”

“don’t worry,” he said, his grin unrepentant. “i’ve no problem buying you new ones.”

“oh, aren’t you presumptuous…” she teased. 

“no. actually, i might ruin a lot of things for you, jackie - shoes, plans, maybe even a heart or two. but i promise, i’ll always replace them with something better.”

she wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but the way he said it eased her enough that she didn’t feel compelled to pick it apart. 

as the night wore on and the crowd thinned, jack and jackie slipped away to a quieter, more secluded corner near a marble column. he loosened his bowtie, his fingers tugging at it until it hung undone around his collar. he leaned back, his energy simmering but still jack - not the senator, not the kennedy, just the man who, when he was with her, gave her all his time and attention. 

“did you have fun?” 

“i did,” she said, walking over beside him, and she doesn’t think she’d ever meant anything more.

he turned towards her slightly. “jackie.”

“yes?”

“would it be presumptuous of me if i kissed you?”

she hesitated for just a moment. then, tilting her chin up ever so slightly - “extremely.”

he kissed her then, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek. his lips were warm and firm but not insistent, the scent of him - cologne and the faintest hint of smoke - leaving jackie spellbound. his touch was steady, his thumb grazing her jaw, and when he finally pulled back, she found herself breathless, her hands on the lapel of his jacket, her heart racing in a way she had both fully expected and yet completely failed to prepare for.

“i told you id ruin something.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “and what do you plan on replacing it with?”

“guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

and against all better judgment, she knew she would.

mr. kennedy had orchestrated every detail to perfection, but none of the grandeur mattered - not the flowers arranged just so, not the orchestra playing as though the fate of western civilization rested on their tempo, not the battalion of photographers angling for posterity - because all she could see was jack. after the ceremony, the newlyweds stepped out of the cathedral into a sunlight so fierce that it felt as thoughthe heavens had chosen to celebrate alongside everyone else. the crowd roared, the church bells clanged, but for the life of her, she couldn’t summon the usual concern over how they looked or what anyone thought. she was just happy, and that felt sufficient. 

the cake towered like something out of a fairy tale - four feet tall, each tier wrapped in ornate, sugary icing that looked more like embroidery and seemed too delicate to cut. but tradition waits for no art, and cut it they did, jack’s hand covering jackie’s gloved one as they worked the knife through the first layer. everyone gathered around the table broke into applause, followed by a cacophony of laughter when jack smeared the faintest dab of frosting on jackie’s wrist before brushing it off with a chaste kiss. next came the toasts - kind words from family and friends, some touching, others ribbing. jack gave a toast of his own, standing tall and proud with a glass in hand as he thanked everyone for sharing in “the happiest day of his life.” 

the remainder of september 12 felt like a dream, the kind you never want to wake from. a s the hours passed and the crowd began to thin, the music softened into a light refrain. 

~

the newlyweds retreated at last, their laughter echoing throughout the long, quiet hallway leading to their suite. 

“do you think they’ll notice we’re gone?” jackie asked, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be hot on their heels, ready to report their escape. 

“let them. they’ve had enough of us for one day.” 

shelaughed, leaning slightly into him as they continued walking, though she could hardly take another step with the puff of her dress weighing her down. “jack, this feels like sneaking out of school.” 

“if we’re caught, i’ll just say my wife made me do it.” 

when they reached the door, jack pushed it open and stepped aside to let her in first. “mrs. kennedy, your palace awaits.” 

she wasted no time in kicking off her shoes, the sound of them hitting the floor strangely satisfying after such an exhausting yet exhilarating day. “if i don’t lie down right now, i might collapse,” she said, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh. 

jack closed the door, his tie askew and his hair slightly wild now, looking less like the polished groom from earlier and more like the jack she knew best. 

“tired already?”

“you should try spending hours in this dress. it’s a miracle i haven’t fainted.” 

“do you want me to call someone to carry you to bed? a secret service agent, perhaps?”

she rolled her eyes. “very funny.” 

“let me help you get comfortable.” he deftly began undoing the buttons of her dress, each one coming undone as the dress slid off her shoulders and pooled around her feet, leaving her in her slip. 

“comfortable yet?”

“not quite…” 

he kneeled down in front of her, his fingers grazing her ankle as he began unfastening the clasp of her stocking. he worked slowly, his gaze flickering up to meet hers every so often, as if to test her. 

“you’re taking your time.”

“that’s the idea,” he murmured, moving to her other leg and tracing a light path up her calf before sliding the second stocking off with a slowness that felt all too maddening. when he finished, his hands smoothed up her thighs, pausing at the hem of her slip. “better?” 

“almost.” 

a few heavenly seconds passed, then - “jack?”

“mmm?”

“i love you.” 

the change in him was immediate, as if her words had ignited a fire within him. he slid his hands higher, gripping her waist firmly as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. he kissed her deeper, harder, and broke the kiss only long enough to look at her intently, his breath warm against her cheek. “you’re incredible, you know that?” 

he leaned back then, his hands lingering on the straps of her slip. “you don’t need this anymore, do you?” she shook her head as he slid the straps down her shoulders, the silky fabric sliding slowly over her skin. then he worked his way down her body with deliberate care, kneeling between her legs, his hands pressing against her thighs as he loitered sensual kisses to the inside of her knee, trailing higher with each gasp she released. 

“jack,” she whispered. 

“would you like me to stop?”

“never.” she was about to say something else but could no longer find her voice as she was lost in the trance of his hands, his mouth.

“i love you too,” he said softly. “and i… am about to show you just how much.”

he was everywhere this time, his movements raw and desperate, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. her hands found his hair, his back, his shoulders - anything she could reach, really - pulling his bare chest closer to her own as his name fell from her lips.

for a second, her mind drifted. so many people, so much to manage, so many little things she still had to think about - the thank-you notes she’d need to write, the calls to return, the endless appointments, the new life ahead of her that she would share with jack.  

but those thoughts faded as quickly as they came. none of those things mattered, at least not right now. for once, everything else could wait.

[thepenultimateword]

Sugar and Spice

Henchman dusted the flour off his hands and gave the spiced apple mixture a quick stir. Looked like the juices were releasing nicely with the sugar. This should be a perfectly gooey filling once he finished the crust.

He set out the first pie pan and had just picked up the dough when the double kitchen doors shrieked open. "Henchman, you're needed in the weapons room for cleaning."

Henchman barely gave Other Villain a glance. "Um...no?"

"Excuse me?"

He pressed the pie dough into the pan and took up a knife to trim the excess. "I'm supposed to finish 12 pies before dinner. If I leave the kitchen, I won't meet my deadline. Besides, weapons isn't my department."

"You're department is doing what you're told."

"And if Supervillain doesn't get his pies for the dinner tonight are you going to take responsibility?"

Other Villain's whole body quivered, and the next sentences came out through gritted teeth as if holding herself back from exploding. With her combustion abilities, she just might be. "The weapon's combat team failed another mission. They've been entirely dispatched. If you don't want to follow in their footsteps, I suggest you listen to your superior before I report you for insubordination."

Henchman sighed heavily but set aside the trimmed crust and ran his hands under the sink faucet, scalding away all the crusted flour. He hated it when people pulled the "villain" card. As if the title meant anything more than their abilities being active rather than passive. But until big bosses like Supervillain stopped treating combat abilities as the bar for worth, Henchman couldn't do much about the system's power dynamics. "Can I expect help? I can't spare more than an hour."

Other Villain gave a self-satisfied smile, quickly followed by an annoyed glance at Henchman. "I'll attempt to siphon help from a few other departments, but it may take some time."

Henchman sighed again. "Of course." He placed the bowl of apples in the fridge, pulling his apron over his head and hanging it on the wall hook on his way out the door.

Luckily, all the dough and the fillings were finished, and the oven could fit several pans at a time. He didn't have much faith in Other Villain finding him help--she'd always looked down on the culinary department's contribution even while happily scarfing down booster gelatin before each training session--but perhaps if he gave the weapons room the bare minimum he could make it back before dinner.

That hope disappeared as soon as he entered the weapons room. It was like no one had cleaned it once since the organization was established. Pockmarked targets and half-crushed practice dummies strewed the room. Weapons stuck into walls or laid discarded on the floor. Some were even dispersed throughout the tiered seating area. Henchman scooped up a scimitar by its hilt. Tsking as he twirled it in his hand. They didn't even properly clean--Was that blood?

Henchman dropped the weapon with a loud clatter. His insides chilled as he took in the rust-colored flecks spattering the flat of the blade. Not so much like a weapon that had met flesh as one that had tasted the aftermath of its owner's demise before it could even defend them. Similarly colored smears decorated the walls and flooring.

Other Villain's comment about the latest weapons team's fate rang through Henchman's mind, and suddenly the mess didn't seem so much their fault. Henchman didn't want to think about what actually went down here, and even if he did he shouldn't dare.

Ok, Henchman. Get in, get out, bake your pies.

First thing first, collect all the weapons dispersed throughout the room. Henchman picked up a pair of spears, wrenching one out of a thick practice mat with a spray of foam. He sighed. More mess.

He threw down the spears against the wall and moved for a half-crumpled metal shield. Did Supervillain come personally? No, don't think. That wasn't his job. As much as he hated Other Villain's attitude, she wasn't entirely wrong. His job was to do what he was told, with as little inquiry as possible.

He found an empty quiver at the top of the bleachers, the arrows scattered in tiny pieces among the seats. He'd have to get a broom for those later. But where was the bow? He ducked down to peer under benches but other than a snapped bow string and some close-up splatter that was definitely blood, he found nothing. Maybe it got thrown to the bottom when Supervillain...did what Supervillain did to "parasites."

Henchman skipped the steps two at a time, picking up a dagger teetering haphazardly over the edge of a bench along the way. He jumped down to the training mat with a loud POFF! Loud enough that he didn't notice the sound of the door opening until the flame-haired figure was almost right in front of him. Her hair was pulled into its usual thick braid crown, wound and wound like an endless coil of rope. Meanwhile, she stood on edge, a dog ready to attack, double-colored eyes flicking rabidly around the room. Finding Henchman the room's sole occupant, they eventually settled hungrily on him.

Henchman's heart skipped a beat, clutching the dagger in both hands, tip down, in front of them. "Sir? Er, Ma'am? Villain?"

The green eye looked ready to skin him, while the brown one spun webs of thought.

"Did...Other Villain send you?" Henchman could cringe at the ridiculous question, Villain outranked Other Villain by about a quadrillion stations, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she would be here.

"You're a henchman, right?" she said.

"Um...yes?"

Her gaze flicked to the dagger in his hands, and she turned on heel back toward the door. "Come with me."

Henchman blinked. What was up with villains being bossy today? Well, he took pissing off Villain much more seriously than Other Villain. Maybe she had further instructions for dealing with this mess. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to see this mess, and she'd been sent to deal with him. In any case, he couldn't say no, so he trailed numbly after her into the hall.

She didn't stop there, leading him around several bends, all the way to the stairwell, and down several flights of stairs. When they emerged they were on ground level.

Henchman scrambled to keep up with her stride out the door and into the parking lot. "Um, eminence," Henchman panted, finally remembering the correct title, "do you need help carrying some things upstairs? I could call you a couple runners if you need."

Villain popped open the passenger door to a steel blue coupe. "Get in."

Henchman obeyed on instinct. "Um--"

Villain closed the door on his question, circling around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. She jammed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.

"Wait, are we leaving?" Henchman exclaimed, jolting out of his dronish obedience. Cleaning the weapons room was one thing, but leaving the building to who knew where was another. He really didn't want to be killed for completing neither of his responsibilities today.

"We have somewhere to be," Villain said, eyes fixed straight ahead as she wove through the lot. As she turned out on the main road, the car went from 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds. "A mission."

"But I have work!" Henchman yelped, the acceleration pressing his back into the warm leather seat.

"Not anymore."

"But Supervillain--"

"Has different orders."

Henchman tried to unravel that statement. Supervillain had never wanted him on a mission. This had to be some sort of mistake.

"You're sure?" he said. "Supervillain wants me to go with you?

"Yep."

"Because you kind of made it seem like you didn't know who I was?"

"I don't, I'm working off descriptions."

"Henchman?" Henchman offered. "Did he say Henchman?"

Villain lifted one hand off the wheel, pointing at him with a little knowing tongue click. "That's the one. You're my support."

"Oh." Henchman took a few quiet moments to swallow that. Support made more sense. Maybe this was some sort of away mission. Henchman's bakes didn't pack as much oomph when they were stale, so maybe Supervillain had sent him along for optimum power. It must be something really important if that were the case. But then why didn't anyone inform him? Did Other Villain send him to the weapons room out of spite, hoping he wouldn't be told in time? "What's the mission?"

"Hero agency infiltration. One of the big ones. We're going to have fake identities, safe houses, everything."

Henchman frowned. That sounded like a mission with lots of planning involved, not a spur-of-the-moment run-out-the-door sort of thing. "Is it far?"

"Very far." Villain turned sharply onto the highway's entry ramp. "And top secret. So you can't call anyone."

Henchman's insides twisted. He didn't get this far in a villain organization without being able to feel when something was off. But he also didn't get this far by asking too many questions.

"Ok."

Villain didn't say anymore after that. Henchman half pondered asking if he should turn on some music but decided against it. He leaned his head back against the seat rest, taking in the rumble of the engine and the muffled whip of the wind along either side of the car's sleek body. Villain breathed from her side of the car, but he tried not to think to hard about that. He'd barely interacted with her more than a handful of times, and only ever in passing or with a group. None of which he expected her to remember. Supervillain knew who he was because he knew how to utilize him. Villain didn't need to know any of that to do her job, which was to be the most lethal weapon in Supervillain's arsenal.

Henchman struggled against heavy eyelids, the soothing glide of the car and the exhaustion of the day hitting him all at once. He'd been prepping those pies for hours before Other Villain interrupted him. The apples were going to go bad if he wasn't back in a couple days. He couldn't even call one of the other chefs to finish them for him with this no-call rule, not that they'd have full effect without him doing each step anyway.

He yawned widely.

What sort of things...did Villain...like...?

Henchman didn't remember dozing off, but when he came to, the sky was dark and his face was pressed up against his window.

"I'm going to make you clean that glass," Villain said.

Henchman raised his head drowsily, squinting at the drool smear for several long seconds before shooting up completely straight in his seat.

"I'm sorry!"

Villain rolled her eyes. "You don't need to grovel about it." She pushed open her door and stepped out into the night. "Anyway, we're here."

"Here?" Henchman said, quickly getting out after her.

Villain nodded at the building with its glowing red overhead sign: Azure Inn. "Hotel."

"This is our safe house?"

"This is on the way to the safe house," Villain said, then shooting him a glare. "Stop asking so many questions."

Henchman bit his lip to stop from asking how much further they had to go tomorrow or where they even were now. He simply trailed her into the office as she purchased their room--two twin beds--and then continued after her to room 109.

Everything was blue. Curtains, bedspreads, carpets; it was no wonder how the hotel got its name.

Villain headed straight into the bathroom and Henchman plopped down on one blue bed stretching his long legs to the end with a soft groan as his thoughts wandered once again to the kitchen. This time to the pie dough, sitting in the open air in its tin. It was probably dry by now. His eyes flicked to the wall clock. 12:20 a.m. Supervillain's dinner was over by now too. How did they manage?

The bathroom door creaked, and Villain stepped into the main room, long hair loosed on her shoulders, framing her face in a thick, kinked mane.

Henchman's heart skipped a stupid beat.

As if hearing it, Villain's eyes whirled in his direction, pinning him to the mattress like finely whetted blades. "What are you doing?"

Henchman slowly pushed himself upright."Going...to bed?"

"You're support; you need to keep watch."

"For what?"

"For heroes, moron!" she snapped.

Henchman flinched. "Oh. Right. Um. They know we're coming?"

Villain stormed across the room, yanking back the covers and throwing herself violently onto her mattress. “We don't know, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You already slept in the car, so just stay awake until morning.”

“Right.” Henchman watched Villain snuggle beneath the covers locks of hair fanning like licking flame across her pillow. He cleared his throat. "One more question."

Villain sighed. "What?"

"What do you expect me to do if a hero does show up?”

“Fight them?” she said in a tone that reeked of suspicion that Henchman might actually be stupid.

“Ha, yes, that would seem obvious,” Henchman replied, attitude sneaking into his own tone. “If I knew how.”

Villain shot upright. “What?”

“Combat isn’t my speciality.”

“But you’re a combat henchman!”

Henchman furrowed his brow. “Nooo.”

"What do you mean? You were in the weapons room!”

"Yeah, because Supervillain killed them all! And apparently there was no one else around to clean up the mess!”

“He…?” Villain drew up her knees, leaning her elbows on the caps and rubbing her thumbs hard into her temples. “No, no, no, no. He’s further ahead than I thought. Has he already…? No. Maybe…”

“Villain?”

She jerked her head sharply toward him. "What do you do?"

Henchman wet his lips, the sheer contrast of Villain’s expectations, of this entire mistake, hitting him all at once. He looked down at the mattress sheepishly. “I bake."

Part Two

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindonessy @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @talesofurbania1 @sweetsigyn @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @kurai-hono-blog

[habibisagi]

HAIIIIII i am taking a hiatus / lil break from the app !!!! ^>_<^

TLDR; swamped with school stuff, i want to write and finish my longfic and hope to have it ready to post by isagi's birthday [april 1st], + anxiety being on here no good ^_^

also, coincidentally, RAMADAN KAREEM!!! ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ i love you so much, please take care of yourself and your loved ones this month, as will i ^_^ <3

-> back to navi. ^¬‿¬^

ok first off peep the pic dude it's fucking frying me so bad KJHSDFJK i saw the cat with an apple on its head and went omg. what if i put a soccer ball instead. and then horrified isagi because the ball is stolen by the winner cat and he lost. ^¬‿¬^ i'm a genius i fear

anyway KJSDH OMG okay SO. this is my first hiatus YIPPEEE!!!! specifically, my first one since i got back on the app last year in may lol and before that i was gone for over a year (but that was unannounced like i just randomly disappeared KJHSDFK). cuz usually if i wanna be gone for a few days or take a little break i just don't get on tbh lmao like i don't need to make an announcement or say i'm taking a hiatus since it's no big deal!! especially since i'm not really actively posting writing or anything, so no real need for one.

however, for this one i am not too sure how long!! and so that's why i figured i would make one!! ;3c jic anyone was curious why the sudden disappearance ehe AND so i can like. force myself to be off here completely. like "girl you made a hiatus post now it would be embarrassing and bad to be on here still so shoo. and do your thing creature." but you will definitely see me back by april 1st ^_^ maybe earlier than that if i can get my shtufffff together quicker <3

and before you ask, no it is not because of ramadan! it's a pure coincidence actually, and it's making me smile and emotional a bit because ramadan is a month about forgiveness and taking care of yourself/sticking to yourself, among finding inner peace within yourself, so it was just meant to be and a sign for me to take time off <3

one of the first reasons is i'm behind on a lot of assignments rn and i have important deadlines coming up and so i need to get back on track for that, and the app is a huge blocker for me because i have 0 self-discipline v_v

the second is also another deadline but this one i wanna set for myself and not school related! and that is i'd like to focus and write my shoujo isagi fic and finish it while having fun at my own pace, and hopefully have it done by his birthday, which is april 1st!! >_< so omg exactly a month from now ehe (this part wasn't planned but the coincidence is bananas. truly a sign...). but yeah my adhd is poopoo farts and tumblr distracts me so much and i will have fun / even no fun on here for hours and get nothing done on what i actually wanna do </3 LOL. that is my shawty bae princess pookie pie boyfriend and i wanna focus on his fic and do something FOR ME for once :3!!!!! i wanna get so lost in the sauce as i write i forget i have tumblr and that i have to post it. that it gets done and i would be like "ohh i could def post this" NOT "omg i wanna finish this to post it". DOES THIS MAKE SENSE okay cool beans

the main part, however, is just some unexplained irrational anxiety i've been getting on here that makes me feel chronically online in a bad way and it hurts me LMAOOO. some interactions not seeming equally reciprocated and passive aggressive or even dry and then i feel isolated lol. even feeling like i'm being taken for granted. and I HATE THATTTTTTTTTTTTT booooo. i can be a deadbeat myself fs but i never actually ignore anyone and i am always interacting and putting in that effort and responding eventually and equally (off the inbox). and while no one is obligated to give it back or owes it (since DUH everyone has a life and stuff and no one owes you anything), as it's no one fault - it still stings a bit and i'm allowed to feel sad and pissy about it!!! v__v

(i'm not vaguing anyone specific btw, so really like. /nbhs ig i'm just saying in general this is how i've been feeling! and i'm valid for it ehe.)

yk that saying that's like "if they wanted to, they would"? i want to accept that ^_^ if someone wants to match my energy, interact in the way i do, they would. and if they don't they don't. BOO. i can't keep feeling upset about it. cuz like we are here having fun being silly about fictional characters at the end of the day, so truly it is not that serious LMFAOOO and maybe i am just being a wee bit dramatic, but my anxiety really is off the charts rn. so don't blame me ok.

you can always take time out of your day if you cared enough, and some just don't. and that's okay :3c!! when you give too much of yourself that is when you STOP and take a step back. and that is what i shall be doing ehe. not worth my time, not worth my energy.

i will be logging off completely and not checking notifs or the dash as soon as i post this >_> TIME AWAY WILL DO ME GOOD ONCE AGAIN. i won't even lurk or look up blogs to keep up or anything tbh because right now i just feel anxious and weird and i don't wanna be here >_< tumblr smelly and stinky right now i want me time

MUTUALS I WILL DEFINITELY STILL BE ON DISCORD IF YOU WANNA CHAT WITH ME BTW i am just getting off this app for a bit. I LOVE U i'm putting my discord in the tags :>

[lookingfts]

Came across this photo and wanted to do a cheesy little drabble for it. Not set in any specific universe of my fics, just its own thing.

--

Everything would be fine.

She had been to dozens of awards shows before Anthony, sat through the nerve-wracking hours of speeches as she told herself that she wouldn’t win and sometimes she didn’t, and sometimes she did.

But she hadn’t been to one alone in years, and her stomach was churning in a way she hadn’t felt in forever. It wasn’t Anthony’s fault that his flight from Copenhagen had been delayed three times – he’d sounded crushed when he told her that he would keep trying to get back before the ceremony, but he didn’t think he would make it.

Kate tried to sit still, tried to breathe as her hairstylist smoothed out her curls. Tried to think about anything else other than how much she missed her husband after a week apart, how much she wished he would be there holding her hand through every excruciating second.

What if she didn’t go? Would that be so terrible? The fashion designer who had made her gown would probably be pissed, as would her agent, but at least she wouldn’t have to walk down the carpet by herself and sit in a seat next to someone she barely knew and slap on a smile like it was the only place in the world she wanted to be.

She flinched a little as the front door slammed shut – she would really need to tell the makeup artist to tread more quietly, or maybe it was her assistant, or someone making a delivery-

“I’m here.”

Kate whipped around at the breathless voice, a ridiculous grin coming over her face at the sight of her husband standing in the doorway. In jeans and a t-shirt, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes, but he was there and suddenly she could breathe again.

Jumping up, Kate practically raced to him, not particularly worried about her hair or makeup as she fell into his arms. They could always be redone.

“You’re here,” she breathed, clinging to him, soaking in his familiar citrusy scent. “How are you here?”

“Uh, it might have involved generously bribing someone to let me take their seat and pulling a family favor with the airline that felt like a gross abuse of my privilege,” Anthony chuckled, his arms comfortingly tight around her. “But I didn’t want to miss your night. I did everything I could to get back on time.”

Kate laughed thickly, taking his hands in hers and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Sometimes it felt like she never stopped falling in love with this man. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to do it without you.”

“But you could have.”

“But I didn’t want to.”

His gaze was so soft, so warm, that if they weren’t on a deadline she would have dragged him to bed that minute. As it was, Kate suspected they would only be making a short appearance at the afterparty. “God, you're beautiful,” Anthony sighed. “I’ll go get ready, okay? I need a shower. I can’t be on camera looking like this when you win.”

She laughed, sending him on his way and settling back into her chair with a newfound lightness.

Whether she won or not, it was going to be a perfect night.