#this was just an interesting thing i noticed)

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

comfort ☄. *. ⋆

summery: you fall asleep while lando plays video games

༯ ln x reader ༘⋆

༯ fluff ༘⋆

masterlist ☾☼

honestly, you hadn't planned it. lando had been playing some video game in the living room, connected to the tv, after dinner. and you just wanted to be close to him. so, you'd done the normal thing and laid your head on his lap, and watched him die a million times in the game.

the two of you had laughed and giggled and exchanged kisses. it was a chill night, and the two of you were just happy to be in each other's presence.

you hadn't realised when your eyes began to close. the sounds of the video game and lando's muttering was comforting, and it put you to sleep.

it took lando about forty five minutes to even notice that you had fallen asleep. he was surprised you hadn't woken up during the few times he got slightly louder than normal.

"babe, i died again," lando whined.

upon receiving no response, lando leaned over to check and noticed that your breathing was even and you had fallen asleep.

making a guilty 'busted' face, lando quickly switched off the video game. the two of you had plans to watch a movie, but clearly, you were too tired for it.

lando's fingers shifted back and forth on your cheek softly, making sure that you stayed asleep as he looked around for the blanket. realising that he had the blanket wrapped around his neck, he quickly removed it and opened it up to its full length, before covering you with it.

he tried to make sure that every part of you was covered, but with your head on his lap, he couldn't move much.

"i promised we would watch a movie. i'm so sorry," lando whispered as he covered you with the blanket.

"i'm addicted to this stupid video game, im so sorry," he continued.

knowing you, he knew that your unicorn stuffed toy would be near, and found it behind your back. gently taking it, he tucked it under your arm, making you stir.

he shushed you softly. "just your unicorn," he whispered. you fell back asleep quickly.

"rest, my love," he whispered as he caressed your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear, "i'm a little exhausting, i know. i promise we'll spend the whole day tomorrow watching movies,"

"i love you," he whispered, before leaning down pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you continued sleeping peacefully.

✩ ♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

this had absolutely nothing but vibes. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[redjennies]

*long sigh*

all right this is one of my most resurrected posts and to be quite honest, i think most people get what I'm saying here, but it could be clarified because the second it gets away from a circle of people who get it, people seem to lose the thread pretty quick. it was about a trend I noticed regarding the types of fans C3 was both attracting and whose voices were being heavily elevated within the fandom. with the campaign ending, it only feels right to say my final piece about it and be done with it.

first, this post is about whose stories and voices are centered in fandom. it is not about the cast (though having a predominantly white, culturally Christian, US American cast does influence it because they are telling stories from that lens.) it is not even really about the characters, themselves, and whether this is. it's about the fans, and specifically, it is about the lack of compassion and desire to understand, I see a particular type of white (often for lack of better word, "WASP"-y: raised middle class, culturally Christian, and/or US American/English/Canadian/etc) queer fan extend to anyone who falls out of an extremely narrow lens of "this is the default queer experience" or heaven forbid, to people who are not queer but are marginalized in other ways.

it is about how this phenomenon happens because they have been trained to see their queerness as their only identity (and therefore, in their arrogance, the only identity that matters) as it is the only thing about them that deviates from that WASP-y "default." through this lens, stories that are not relatable to that audience are largely ignored unless they are exceptional enough to be the "Academy-Approved POC Film of the Year" to be tokenized by white liberal audiences and stories that do touch on queerness but are primarily about other things like race/class/disability/etc are whitewashed into something more palatable for that hegemonic "default" audience to the point where it is practically unrecognizable from the original story. this is not unique to CR. this happens across all audiences and therefore, all fandoms.

clearly, this phenomenon leads to a problem in fandoms. if we are not extending empathy to the characters and stories that discuss perspectives that may be different than our own, than we will not be extending empathy to the real breathing humans who see their experiences (or the experiences of people they have known) in those stories. there was this post or article about why we need better POC representation that I read way back in the day and have never been able to find again that really stuck with me that said something along the lines of "we don't need representation because no black person can relate to George Costanza or Rachel Green. we already do. the problem is that white writers and audiences do not relate to black people and that shows through the kind of black characters white writers create." and I think that sentiment is relevant to what I'm getting at here. a lot of white queer fans on tumblr are often half-listening when a story is told, choosing to only pay attention when things are about them because at the end of the day, they have the privilege to do so. therefore, the fanworks they create reflects that lack of interest. the metas and fanon they write reflect that lack of interest. soon enough, the fandom itself reflects that lack of interest.

and worse yet, because queer people are an oppressed group (and to clarify, I don't want to come across like I'm saying just because we're white queers, we're not "really oppressed" or whatever), this lack of interest and compassion for people who are different than you becomes actively celebrated in fandom spaces. you have relatively privilege white queer people on tumblr loudly proclaiming characters only matter if they're gay, stories only matter if they're queer, and so on and so on. which on some level is fine if you prioritize reading and watching stories that have to do with queerness, but you do need to be aware of a massive bias you may have to what "queer stories" even are and how you are interacting with them and who you are leaving out. a great example of this is why every time there's a black bisexual male love interest in a video game, y'all keep calling him "too straight" and therefore "boring" and then getting mad and defensive when someone calls you on it. like I mean-- hit dogs holler. ¯\_(*ツ)_/��

anyway, I was going to close with tying this concept back into CR and how there was a rot that permeated C3 and how this attitude straight up alienated a lot of fans. (god knows I got shouted out of this fandom until it got so dully unpleasant that I couldn't bring myself to give a damn anymore, and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I hope everyone who participated in the near constant harassment I received for the great crime of maybe being annoying as I made my little jokes and shared my thoughts has a bad fucking life. fuck you. learn how to use the block button.) but @utilitycaster who has been following this campaign as well as other actual play shows a lot more closely than I have already touched on that in a pretty dead-on post that I highly recommend.

so here is what I will end on, the phenomenon I've been describing throughout this post is in no uncertain terms, a form of bigotry, and as far as the people who have to live with that oppression are concerned, a queer bigot is not any less harmful than a straight bigot, in the same way a female bigot is not any less harmful than a male bigot. so if you sincerely want to your spaces to be more inclusive and aren't just saying that to "do a leftism," you have to accept your own part in that, regardless of who you are. you have to stop and pay attention to what kind of perspectives you might be ignoring, and stop immediately shouting at people because you interpreted what they said in bad faith. you have to learn how to just shut up sometimes and be a little reflective. i'm not always great at that, but it's a skill you have to practice even if you fuck up. you can always change your mind with new information and new ideas and new perspectives, but if you instinctively chase off everyone who might be willing to talk about something you've never considered before because you're more concerned about being right than learning, you're going to get a rot in your community that is really hard to get rid of once it festers enough. because if you've been told your whole life that the rot is the default and that it is normal and that it's the way it should be, you're never going to notice it's even there.

tbh the Critical Role fandom, along with most fandoms, has a problem with centering easily digestible metaphors for white queer experiences (and even then only those that check all the boxes of the purity list) at the cost of seeing stories through the lens of race, class, mental and physical disabilities and how those can intersect with queer experiences.

for example, putting an unnecessary amount of effort into proving Jester's attraction to Fjord is compulsory heterosexuality while ignoring that Fjord and Jester were both explicitly biracial characters from different class backgrounds and how that class difference intersected with their self image. a general refusal to really interact with Chetney as a character that is heavily coded as mentally ill and uninterested in being "cured." Veth being deemed the token straight Karen despite being a young rural mother of color struggling with addiction and having an arc that was heavily coded as trans, and Ashton, a nonbinary lower class punk with chronic pain, being considered just a man when it comes to ship wars. etc, etc.

[katescorner]

suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.

it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.

you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.

suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.

"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.

"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.

"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"

"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?

"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.

suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?

yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x Waitress!Reader

- Hard to focus -

MasterList

Warnings: kissing?

It’s a typical Friday night, and the restaurant is buzzing with activity. You’re weaving through tables with practiced ease, balancing plates and drinks, when you hear the loud laughter of a group that’s just been seated in your section.

As you approach their table, you immediately recognize them. Arsenal Women’s team. Leah Williamson sits near the middle, her blonde hair loosely tied back, her smile lighting up the entire room.

You swallow the slight nerves creeping in and put on your best professional smile. “Good evening! Can I get you all started with some drinks?”

The group turns their attention to you, tossing out orders and banter as you jot everything down. Leah is quiet, her gaze fixed on you as you write. When you glance up, her blue eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the table disappears.

You clear your throat, breaking the moment. “I’ll be back with your drinks,” you say, giving a polite nod before walking off.

As the night goes on, you can’t help but notice Leah’s eyes following you every time you pass by. She’s subtle—her teammates are far more obvious. Beth Mead nudges her, whispering something that makes Leah roll her eyes and mutter a response.

When you return to their table with their food, the teasing starts.

“So,” Beth says, leaning forward with a grin, “do you always get this quiet around attractive waitresses, Leah?”

“Beth,” Leah warns, shooting her a sharp look, though her cheeks flush slightly.

You smile politely, pretending you didn’t hear, but your heart races a little faster. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” you ask, addressing the group.

“Actually,” Katie McCabe cuts in, her grin just as mischievous as Beth’s, “do you have a name? For, you know, great customer service purposes.”

You give them your name with a small laugh, feeling the weight of Leah’s stare.

The rest of the meal is a blur of stolen glances and light teasing from Leah’s friends. By the time you bring the check, Leah is the one to take it, her hand brushing against yours as she does.

“Thanks for putting up with them,” she says softly, her smile more reserved but just as captivating.

“It’s no problem,” you reply, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks.

As the team gathers their things and heads out, Leah lingers behind for a moment. “You work here often?” she asks, her tone casual but her eyes giving her away.

“Yeah, most weekends,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Leah nods, hesitating for just a second before pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling something down. She slides it toward you.

“If you ever feel like getting dinner instead of serving it,” she says with a small smirk, “give me a call.”

You glance down at the paper—a phone number. When you look back up, Leah’s already walking out the door, her teammates grinning and giving her a hard time as they leave.

You can’t help but smile, tucking the note into your pocket.

You finish your shift that night with a lingering smile, Leah’s number burning a hole in your pocket. By the time you clock out, the restaurant is quiet, and you finally have a moment to replay the evening in your mind. Her smirk, the way her gaze seemed to follow you, the way she lingered just a little longer than she needed to.

When you get home, you stare at the piece of paper for what feels like forever before finally picking up your phone. You type out a simple message, hesitating before hitting send.

You: Hi, Leah. This is the waitress from tonight. Hope I’m not texting too late.

To your surprise, the response is almost immediate.

Leah: Not at all. I was hoping you’d text.

You feel a flutter in your chest, and before you know it, the conversation flows effortlessly. Leah is charming, funny, and easy to talk to. She asks about your job, your interests, and even jokes about her teammates embarrassing her.

Leah: They’ll never let me live it down, by the way. Beth and Katie have been on my case since we left.

You: I could tell. They seemed relentless.

Leah: You have no idea.

The conversation stretches into the early hours, and by the time you finally say goodnight, you’ve already agreed to meet for coffee the following week.

A week later, you’re sitting at a cozy café, nervously sipping on your drink as you wait. When Leah walks in, wearing a simple sweater and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, she spots you instantly and smiles.

“You look even better out of uniform,” she says as she sits down, her tone teasing but genuine.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply, earning a soft laugh from her.

The date goes by in a blur. Leah’s easygoing nature puts you at ease, and the chemistry between you is undeniable. She tells stories about her teammates, her career, and her life outside of football, and in return, you share bits of your own world.

By the end of the date, Leah walks you out of the café, her hands tucked into her pockets.

“I don’t usually do this,” she says, stopping just outside the door.

“Do what?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Get this distracted by someone,” she admits, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “But you… you make it hard to focus on anything else.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world seems to slow. Leah steps closer, her hand brushing against yours.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” she asks softly.

You nod, unable to form words, and before you know it, her lips are on yours—gentle, warm, and everything you didn’t know you’d been waiting for.

When she pulls back, her eyes meet yours, and the smile that spreads across her face is enough to make your heart race.

“Dinner next time,” she says, her voice low but certain. “And this time, I’m paying.”

After that magical first date at the café, you and Leah fall into a rhythm that feels almost effortless. The texts come daily, the late-night calls stretch into the early morning, and every moment you spend together only deepens the pull between you. But there are moments—electric, heart-racing moments—where neither of you can ignore the sheer magnetic attraction that keeps building.

It’s a Friday night when Leah surprises you at work, waiting by the exit just as you’re finishing your shift. She’s leaning against her car, hands in her jacket pockets, her hair slightly tousled by the wind.

“I thought I’d take you home tonight,” she says casually, though the smile she gives you is anything but casual.

“I could’ve taken the bus, you know,” you tease, stepping closer.

Her eyes soften, and she tugs you gently by the hand until you’re standing right in front of her. “I wanted to see you,” she admits, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, the skies open up, rain pouring down out of nowhere. You let out a squeal of surprise, but Leah doesn’t move to run for cover. Instead, she laughs, her eyes locked on yours.

“You’re going to get soaked!” you shout over the rain, but she just shrugs.

“You too,” she counters, stepping even closer until her hands are on your waist.

And then she kisses you. It’s slow and deliberate, her lips warm against yours despite the cold rain falling around you. Her hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, and the world around you fades into nothing but her.

By the time you pull away, both of you are drenched and breathless. Leah grins, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “Best rainy night I’ve ever had,” she murmurs.

A month into your relationship, Leah invites you to stay over for the first time. You wake up in her bed, tangled in the soft sheets, with her arm draped lazily across your waist.

She stirs before you do, her lips pressing against your bare shoulder in soft, lingering kisses.

“Morning,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep.

You turn to face her, smiling as her hand trails up to cup your cheek. “Morning,” you reply, leaning into her touch.

She closes the small distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that starts slow but quickly deepens. Her hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat against yours as the kiss intensifies.

When you finally break apart, her forehead rests against yours, her eyes half-lidded as she grins. “I could stay here with you all day,” she murmurs.

“Who says we can’t?” you tease, and Leah laughs, pulling you back into another kiss.

It’s a big match for Leah and the team, and you’re in the stands, cheering louder than anyone else. When Arsenal clinches the win, Leah’s face lights up as she scans the crowd, her eyes immediately finding you.

Later, at the post-match celebration, you’re standing off to the side, sipping a drink, when Leah sneaks up behind you.

“Hey,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around your waist. She smells like fresh grass and victory, and the warmth of her body against yours sends a thrill through you.

“You were incredible out there,” you say, turning your head to look at her.

Leah doesn’t reply with words. Instead, she spins you around, cupping your face in her hands before pulling you into a kiss. It’s passionate, almost desperate, like she’s been holding back all night. When she pulls away, you’re both slightly breathless.

“I couldn’t wait anymore,” she admits with a small smile. “I needed to kiss you.”

You smile back, your fingers brushing against the back of her neck. “Anytime, Captain.”

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, stolen kisses, and soft touches. By the time you leave, Leah’s hand is firmly in yours, her teammates shooting you knowing smiles as you walk out together.

One night, as you’re both curled up on her couch watching a movie, Leah suddenly pauses the screen. You turn to her, confused, but the serious look in her eyes makes your heart skip.

“Hey,” she says softly, brushing a thumb over your hand. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you ask, your voice equally soft.

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching yours. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits. “With anyone. You… you make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.”

You feel your chest tighten, your hand reaching up to cup her face. “Leah…”

“I mean it,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re it for me. I don’t know where this is going, but I know I don’t want it to end.”

Tears sting your eyes as you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s soft but filled with all the emotions you can’t quite put into words. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against hers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

Leah lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into her arms. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go.”

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 3 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: Loki proposes a challenge and your plan goes very awry.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub, light bondage, sex toys, oral sex (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: Woof, sorry for the delay on this chapter. It was surprisingly challenging to write and it took me a minute to figure it out. But it's here! Lemme know what you think!

Loki only calls you ‘wife’ when he has sex on his mind—he knows it gets you riled up.

He doesn’t usually break it out at the breakfast table, though.

“I’ve noticed something, wife.” His eyes are glittering in a way that always signals he’s up to no good.

You cross one leg over the other and try to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach jumps and your heart beats just a little faster. “What’s that?”

His gaze sweeps along your legs, the corner of his mouth twitching like he has a direct line to your thoughts. “You are an enthusiastic participant in our marital relations, but you rely entirely on me to initiate them.”

He waits a beat and your stomach drops. In retrospect, it was a bit silly to think he wouldn’t notice this. Loki always notices.

“Now, why is that?” he continues.

It’s a question that you don’t particularly want to answer. You suspect that he knows this, based on the laughter dancing in his eyes. 

You clear your throat. “Maybe it’s because you unironically use phrases like ‘marital relations.’”

He taps a finger against his lips. “Interesting deflection.”

“It’s not a deflection.”

“You forget, my love, that I am the god of lies.”

You press your lips together and take a sip of water. “Have you considered that it’s maybe a little challenging being the soulmate of the guy who took over the planet?”

You expect him to be angry: you don’t expect the spectacular eye roll or the exaggerated sigh. “Are you really still upset about that?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you really going to pretend it wasn’t a big deal?”

“You can’t deny that things are much improved under my rule.” The way he says this suggests that he’s had a version of this conversation before. “Surely you’ve seen the statistics.”

“I’ve read your propaganda, yes,” you say, idly poking your fork at the fruit on your plate.

He scowls. “It’s not propaganda, it’s verifiable facts—” 

“Conveniently hand-picked by your PR team. That’s kind of telling, if you ask me.”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s about to go into a lengthy monologue that he’s tired of having to recite, but as he looks at your face, his expression slowly changes from annoyed to something more amused. “You’re goading me.”

You shrug. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

“Lies do not become you, wife.” His expression is sharp, but there’s a hungry kind of approval in his gaze that makes your stomach flip. 

“I rather think you’re enjoying yourself, your majesty.”

You’ve only ever used his title sparingly—it’s his equivalent of calling you “wife” and it’s generally a surefire way to ensure that you end your conversation either underneath or on top of him.

For a moment, it seems like one of those outcomes might be in your immediate future—there’s a familiar glitter of hunger in his eyes as his gaze drops again to your legs. 

He licks his lips. “One of these days, I will put you over my knee and punish you the way that you deserve.”

An electric kind of desire crackles through you as you contemplate the logistics of letting him fuck you on the breakfast table.

“But not today.”

Your gaze snaps immediately to his. He smirks like he knows that you were expecting this conversation to go in a very different direction.

“Today I’d like to propose a little experiment,” he continues.

You regard him warily. “What sort of experiment?”

“As I mentioned earlier, the burden of initiating our physical relations has fallen entirely on me.” He takes a sip of his water. “I am putting that burden on you for today.”

“So, what—we’re not having sex unless I start it?”

“Precisely. And you’re going to have to tell me exactly what you want in order to get it.”

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but you try to look completely unaffected as desire and annoyance wage yet another war inside you. “And what if I don’t feel like playing your stupid games?”

“You will.” He says it confidently as he glances at the clock. “I’ve business to attend to.” His smile is entirely too sharp as he rises from his chair. “I trust you’ll keep yourself occupied.”

You bite back a scowl as he leaves you alone with your thoughts and a dull, persistent ache throbbing between your legs.

The trouble is that initiating sex means admitting you want him.

Granted, you have begged for him many times during sex. But it’s one thing to admit that you want him when he’s been edging you for the better part of an hour; it's something else to admit to wanting him without that specific kind of pressure as a motivating factor. It requires acknowledging a vulnerability, something you are all too reluctant to do around Loki.

At first, you think you’ll just give up sex for the day. Worst case scenario: there’s no sex. Slightly better case scenario: he gives in out of sheer desperation and you get to have sex without admitting you want him. The second scenario seems most likely—if you had to pit your sex drive against his, you would wager that his is higher. It’s simple. Easy.

Later, you will acknowledge that this was perhaps slightly delusional on your part.

The fact that you didn’t really take into account is that your body is expecting sex. You’ve been getting it on the daily—often multiple times in one day—since your wedding. It probably should have occurred to you that quitting cold turkey would not go well.

Unfortunately, that seems to be a lesson that the universe is determined to make you learn through experience.

It’s early afternoon when you start to realize that you’re going to need a different plan. The dull ache between your legs has not abated and has instead turned into the kind of specific ache that you know you’re not going to be able to take care of on your own.

And if this were any other time, Loki probably would have already found some way to get you alone and mostly undressed—his ability to pick up on these moods of yours is keen to an inconvenient degree.

But there’s no sign of him today.

You pace your room for a while. The ache between your legs persists and you know if you don’t do something about it, it’s only going to get worse.

A plan slowly emerges in the heady haze of your slowly increasing desire. You could probably goad him into getting you off once or twice—enough to bring your desire to something more manageable. It wouldn’t be the same as sex, so you wouldn’t be admitting to any kind of vulnerability and it would clear your head enough to give you time to figure out the rest of the day.

Later, you will acknowledge that this was a very poorly thought out plan and doomed to failure from the start. Right now, though, it seems like a fine idea.

You put on a dress that you know he likes—a flowing green thing that clings to your breasts and hips in an appealing way. You don’t bother with underwear. 

You’re not quite sure where he’s meeting or who’s in attendance, but that doesn’t worry you too much. You’ve found that your new status means that people don’t often question you, which makes it relatively easy to wander wherever you’d like.

You find him eventually in one of the rooms on the first floor, accompanied by an array of important looking people that you don’t recognize. His gaze finds you almost immediately, though he waits for a break in the conversation to address you.

“Darling, what a surprise.” The glimmer in his eyes tells you it is not at all a surprise.

“Sorry to interrupt.” You give the others an apologetic smile before glancing back at Loki. “I need to speak with you privately when you have a moment.”

“Of course, my love.” His eyes darken just a shade and your cunt pulses in a kind of answer. “Wait for me in the library and I’ll be with you shortly.”

You give him a perfunctory smile and stalk off to the library just a few doors down.

You can feel the slickness building between your legs, the muscles of your cunt flexing and aching in a blend of need and anticipation. There’s a couch by the window—that will suit your purposes well enough. You sit down and wait, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

You expect him to draw it out as long as possible, but he must be just as eager as you are because he strolls into the room five minutes later.

“What troubles you, darling?” His voice is gently mocking, his expression infuriatingly smug. He knows exactly why you’re here.

“Shut up,” you say through gritted teeth. “You know why I’m here, so let’s make it quick.”

“Oh, that’s not what we agreed on,” he purrs, eyes darkening with want as he approaches you. “You have to tell me what you want.”

As soon as he’s near enough, you tug him down to the couch and straddle his lap, guiding his hand up your skirt to your bare cunt. “I want you to make me come.”

You’re hoping that your boldness and lack of underwear will throw him off enough that he won’t notice that you’re being intentional with your wording and leaving yourself a very tidy out.

“Oh, darling, you’re soaking.” He drags his fingers along the length of your cunt, carefully circling your clit. “Poor thing, no wonder you’re so needy.” 

You sigh, your hips rolling with his hand. “More.”

“Needy and greedy,” he muses, sliding a finger inside you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I love it when you’re like this.”

He pulls you into a deep kiss, tongue pressing into your mouth, tangling with yours. You moan, rocking your hips against his hand as he slips a second finger inside you.

“You need me, don’t you?” he breathes against your lips. “No one else makes you feel like this. Even when you touch yourself, your fingers can’t quite reach this little spot the way I can.” His fingers curl, pressing hard against that soft, aching spot that has been throbbing all day. You keen, fingernails digging into the leather on his shoulders as your hips grind against his hand. 

“Yes, just like that,” you gasp. 

“You need me so badly that you can’t even manage a full day without my touch.” His thumb presses just a little harder on your clit. “And interrupting a meeting of global importance to beg me to fuck you in the library where anyone might walk in—”

You’re entering the final stretch right before your orgasm and you can tell that it’s going to be good—the pressure inside you is too intense for it not to be. 

And then Loki decides to up the ante.

“It just goes to show how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

It’s like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Loki’s fingers curl again and your mouth goes slack as you let out a low whimper. 

“I know that noise.” His smile is hungry. “You’re about to come for me.”

You nod, rolling your hips in time with the wave that’s rising within you.

“Let me hear you.” He leans in and nips sharply at your earlobe. “Scream for me.”

It’s like being hit by a hurricane. You are dimly aware that you’re moaning loud enough to be heard unless he’s been a gentleman and cast a silencing spell on the room, but your capacity to care about anything other than the euphoria flooding your entire nervous system is somewhere below zero.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs, as he works you through it. “So fucking filthy,”

You’d intended to make your exit quickly, but you didn’t bank on how good his fingers would feel or how easily he’d be able to coax you to another orgasm. You claw desperately at his chest, and he gives you a self-satisfied smirk.

“What? Another one so soon?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock concern. “Is your poor little cunt really so needy?”

“Don’t stop.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but you don’t care. You can’t care about anything other than the rising pressure in your hips and the way your clit is thrumming with pleasure.

“Oh, I’m not going to stop until I’ve thoroughly claimed this sweet cunt.”

“Yes. Fuck.” You hold your breath as your orgasm makes its final ascent.

“That’s it.” His eyes are shining. “Come for me.”

The second one hits you just as hard and then blends almost seamlessly into a third that makes stars burst behind your eyelids and your thighs tremble. You lean into him, gasping and panting as he murmurs more filthy praise in your ear.

But you snap back to reality when he reaches for the buttons of your dress. You need to move quickly if you want your plan to work and you know that if he manages to get his cock out, it’s all over for you.

“Shall I take you on the desk?” He slips the first button, staring greedily at the exposed skin. “Or against that window?”

Both options sound too appealing, but you’re not going to tell him that. You reluctantly pull away from him and stand on legs that are much too wobbly. Remember the plan. Focus.

For once in his life, Loki looks a little baffled.

“Well,” you say, making a rather sad attempt to straighten your dress. “Would you look at the time.”

His eyes narrow almost immediately. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing,” you say brightly. “I just didn’t realize it was so late and I don’t want to keep you from your meeting.”

He catches on right away—you can tell from the glint in his eyes and the slight twitch of his lips. He seems conflicted about how he feels about it, though, which you’re not expecting. There’s annoyance, certainly—that was always a given—but there’s also a kind of hungry delight, almost like you’d surprised him a little.

Almost like he finds it…attractive.

You weren’t expecting that at all.

He stands slowly, his gaze traveling shamelessly up and down your body, bringing still more slickness to your cunt. 

“You may come to regret this little stunt, my love.” His voice is deadly soft and you’re reminded suddenly of a shark considering his prey. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Perhaps you should have negotiated more favorable terms this morning.” Your voice is calm and cool, but there’s an inferno of desire blazing inside you.

“I think I will particularly enjoy silencing that smart mouth later tonight,” he says, eyeing the open button on your dress.

“If I allow it.” You smile sweetly at him as his expression darkens even further. “After all, you did put that burden on me for today, your majesty. And I did only say that I wanted you to make me come, which you have.”

The look that he gives you is lustful in a way you’ve never seen from him before. Your cunt clenches tightly around nothing and suddenly the relief that you’d just found from his fingers doesn’t seem anywhere near enough.

And if you don’t get out of here soon, your entire plan will go up in flames in favor of riding his cock until you both collapse.

“I’ll take my leave,” you say, buttoning your dress.

His gaze trails possessively over your body. “Yes, you’ll want to rest up—I suspect you’ll be begging me to claim my prize by the time I return to our rooms.”

“We’ll see.” There’s no conviction in your voice and you can tell that he hears it, so you turn quickly on your heel and leave with a mumbled goodbye before he can convince you to change your mind.

This entire episode has given you new insight into why Loki is like this as his default. The control is heady and intoxicating and your head fizzes like you’ve drunk too much champagne. You feel sexy and desirable. Powerful. You think of him quietly stewing away in his meeting downstairs, plagued by thoughts of you and trying to hide it from the others. You think of him storming upstairs, control fraying, his cock rock hard and aching for you. You think about what he’ll do to you as payback for leaving him wanting.

The entire purpose of this exercise was to find an outlet for your arousal and clear your head; instead, you find that you’re hornier than you were before the library.

Your entire plan has failed rather spectacularly, but you can’t convince yourself to be mad about it.

The hours pass slowly. You’re not sure if he’s intentionally delaying his return or if he’s genuinely busy—either way, it does you no favors. You try reading, but you end up rereading the same paragraph and thinking about sex instead of following the story. As afternoon fades into evening, you undress and don a silk robe. The fabric whispers against your skin, only heightening your arousal.

The sun is almost fully set when you hear the door open and the heavy tread of familiar boots on the floor. You stay seated on the couch, staring out the floor to ceiling window, waiting.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever.”

Goosebumps spring up along the column of your spine. His voice is low and stern, his presence already commanding. Slickness floods your cunt in anticipation. You slowly turn to face him, your chin tilted up in slight defiance.

“I consider it appropriate payback for the gala,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow as he continues to walk closer. “And do you recall how hard you came after the gala?”

You mirror his skeptical expression. “Then wouldn’t I be doing you a favor by teasing you like this if it means you come harder later?”

The look he gives you is intoxicating. “You are disobedient and impertinent.”

You smirk. “And you love it.”

“Not as much as I love putting you back in line.”

You stand and walk toward him, stopping a few inches away. “Then why don’t you?”

He chuckles low in his throat. “You know that’s not what we agreed to, my love. The move is yours.”

Privately, you’re delighted that he seems prepared to continue to play the game. 

“I didn’t take you to be so passive,” —you pause and lick your lips— “your majesty.”

Perhaps more extraordinary than the fire in his eyes is his stillness—save for the tight clench of his jaw and his sharp intake of breath, he is completely motionless as his eyes tell the story of a man who is barely holding himself back from his greatest desire.

“I’m a man of my word,” he says, finally.

You huff out a soft laugh. “Are you?” You lick your lips. “Perhaps I should test that.”

You pull the sash of your robe and let it fall from your shoulders to your feet in a heap. You stand in front of him, completely naked. His eyes devour you and his fingers flex against his thighs like he’s barely holding back from touching you.

“Still a man of your word?” you ask, your eyes wide and innocent.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. “Yes.”

You nod thoughtfully. “I see.”

And then you slowly sink to your knees.

You look up at him with wide eyes. “What about now?”

“Yes.” There’s a dark rasp in his voice and his fingers are tensed like claws against his thighs.

You’re getting to him. You love it.

You take your time undoing his trousers, letting your fingers graze against the hard length of his erection whenever the opportunity presents itself. You almost feel a little bad when you finally free his cock—he is desperately hard, the flushed and engorged tip already slick with precome.

“Oh, have you been like this all afternoon?” you say casually. “Poor thing.”

“Watch your tone,” he says sharply.

“I suppose that was rather inconsiderate of me to just leave you like that,” you muse, taking his cock in your hand and reveling in his sharp exhale and the way he throbs hot and hard as you begin to stroke him. “I didn’t realize you’d be so hard.”

“You are playing with fire, my love.” His voice is rough and husky with wanting.

“I don’t think it’s wrong to make you work for it.”

“You would dare to give orders to a king?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I not your queen?”

“My queen does not command me.”

Early on, you might have been intimidated by the hunger in his eyes and the sternness in his voice, but now you can’t help but find it arousing. Somewhere along the way, pushing him to his limit became like a drug and now you can’t get enough.

“And why not, your majesty?” you say, gently squeezing his shaft as you stroke him. “You tease me like this all the time. Isn't it only fair for me to have a turn?”

“I don’t need to justify myself. I’m king.” He says this with authority, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his expression neutral. There’s a catch in his voice and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as his hips rock into your hand.

You look up at him again. “Perhaps you ought to,” you say. “Seeing as I’m currently holding your fate in my hands.”

He gives you a smirk that is entirely too confident for your liking. “I think you’re underestimating my resilience.”

You bring your lips up to the head of his cock, letting the very tip of your tongue brush against it. He inhales sharply.

“Am I?” you say, punctuating the question with a second featherlight kiss against his cock. “I’m not sure that you’ve considered all the tools I have at my disposal.”

He stares down at you imperiously and you return his look with wide, innocent eyes as you part your lips and take him into your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around the head of his cock in a way that you know he enjoys. His fingers flex against his thighs and you hum as the sharp taste of his precome glides over your tongue.

“You are a wicked, disobedient tease,” he growls, one hand sliding down to cradle the back of your head. “And you don’t even care, do you? You just want to get those pretty lips around my cock.”

You draw back slightly to look up at him. “You could stand to be more flattering if you want me to let you come in my mouth.”

He chuckles, eyes darkening with want. “Is it not flattering to say that your mouth makes me forget myself?”

You press a kiss to the tip of his cock, letting your tongue flick against it, but not quite bringing him back into your mouth. “It’s a start.”

“You don’t know what effect you have on me, do you?” His hand strokes your cheek as you continue lazily kissing his cock.

“You certainly do your best to act annoyed with me.”

He laughs, a low, throaty sound. “Oh, half the fun of these little games are your attempts to outwit me. Chaos and schemes only add to my power, but when you are the perpetrator?” He gives you a long, hungry look. “That makes me rock hard.”

Your breath catches slightly as you stroke your tongue over the tip of his cock. “Keep talking.”

“I spent the rest of that meeting driven to utter distraction because I could not stop thinking about how good it was going to feel to sink my cock into your dripping cunt.”

You gently suck the tip of his cock into your mouth and release it. 

“And then I come back here and you mouth off at me, strip, and get on your knees to suck my cock.” He hisses slightly as you tease the head of his cock with the very tip of your tongue.

“Are you going to beg for me, Loki?” You press a soft kiss against his cock.

“A god doesn’t beg,” he says hoarsely. 

“But you could,” you say softly, teasing the tip of his cock again.

“You may force me to reconsider that notion, yes.”

“Do you want me to suck your cock, Loki?” you ask in that same soft voice. “Do you want to come in my mouth?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Yes.”

You intended to hold out for longer, but you didn’t expect him to say…well, any of that, really. And the other, less convenient reality is that your ability to deny yourself the pleasure of his body and touch is eroding well past the point of resistance. You’ve waited long enough. You want him.

You take his cock fully into your mouth and begin to move.

Loki groans, his eyes half lidded and lips parted as he looks down at you. “Fuck, you’re divine. I’m going to worship your cunt after this.”

You moan on his cock, widening your legs slightly. You slip your fingers between your legs, letting your index finger roll against your aching clit.

Loki stares down at you with a renewed hunger. “Are you touching yourself?”

You moan an affirmative, your fingers moving faster on your clit as you suck harder on his cock.

“Filthy girl.” His hand grips the back of your head, his hips jerking slightly. “After this, I’m going to make you come harder than you did after the gala. I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

You moan again on his cock, flicking your tongue over the tip on every upstroke, making his grip on your head tighten. Your jaw starts to ache after a few minutes, but the little noises he’s making are so worth it. Your cunt keeps getting slicker and slicker under your fingers and you feel yourself starting to edge closer to your own end.

“Fuck.” Loki is panting, his composure completely lost. “If you keep—fuck—I’m so fucking close—”

You could be cruel and make him wait, but he’s so beautiful with his head thrown back and his green eyes fluttering shut against the wave of pleasure you’re building for him that you can’t help but want to give him everything. You hollow your cheeks and take him as deep as you can.

His hand tightens against your scalp and he groans deeply as his hot release fills your mouth. You swallow it greedily, slowing to a halt.

The moment you take your mouth off his cock, he’s pulling you to your feet and holding you flush against him, his mouth covering yours in a deep and slow kiss.

Something about kissing him seems to emphasize the building need of your own body. “Fuck me, Loki.” You breathe your plea against his lips, twining your fingers in his hair. “I need you.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little before sweeping you into his arms and carrying you purposefully toward the bed.

He sets you down on the bed and you expect him to follow you immediately, pressing his body against yours. Instead, invisible bonds curl around your wrists and ankles, gently tugging until you’re spread eagled on the bed. You barely repress a shiver as he kneels next to you. He means business and historically, that’s always ended quite well for you.

There’s a flash of green and a slim vibrator materializes in his hands. He runs the head of it gently along your exposed cunt, pausing just above your clit.

And it’s not until you feel the same invisible bonds wind around your hips to hold the vibrator in place that you realize that this is not going the way you thought.

As though he can read your thoughts, Loki glances at the clock. “Oh, dear, is that really the time?” he says lazily, his mouth curling into a sly smile.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your heart pounding hard because of course he would.

“I’m afraid I can’t miss this meeting. Shouldn’t be more than an hour, though.”

“Loki—”

He clicks his fingers and the vibrator hums to life, close enough to your clit to stoke the flames of desire, but not close or strong enough to get you over the edge.

“I hate you,” you groan, rocking your hips up, searching for relief. “You are the worst.”

“Oh, I certainly hope your attitude improves by the time I return,” he tuts as he tucks his cock back into his trousers. “It’d be a shame if you had to wait even longer.”

“You said you liked it when I tried to outwit you.”

He chuckles, leaning in close enough to kiss you. “I do. I like seeing how clever you are and I love carrying out consequences.”

You scowl. “You’re awful.”

He smirks and kisses you, drawing back before you can try to pull him deeper. “Be good. I’ve heard that good things come to those who wait.”

“Loki—”

He casts one last smug look at you before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

He’s gone for a little over an hour, but it feels like an eternity.

The vibrator is enough to keep you wet and aching, but not enough to get you off. The bonds are comfortable, but there doesn’t seem to be any give that would allow you to wiggle out or adjust the vibrator, no matter how much you writhe against the mattress. Sometimes, the intensity seems to increase just slightly and you thrust your hips forward, trying to get more, only to have it diminish just as quickly.

It’s agonizing, certainly, but you know that the payoff is going to be nothing short of spectacular. And privately…you kind of like it, though you’ll never admit that to him.

You’re not quite sure if you should act relieved or annoyed when Loki returns, so you end up settling on a strange combination of both when the door finally clicks open and he walks in smirking.

“Well,” he says far too brightly for your liking, “have you learned your lesson?”  

“Yeah, to check your schedule before I try something like that again,” you say before you can really think it through.

He tuts, lips pursing as he frowns. “Ooh, there’s that attitude again. Shall I leave you for another hour?”

You shut your mouth and look away, not quite able to hide your scowl. “No.”

He chuckles. “I thought so.”

He sits down on the bed next to you and runs his fingers along your cunt, his smile turning wicked.  “I see that you enjoyed the little toy. You’re so much wetter than when I left you.”

Your scowl deepens. “Because you’ve been teasing me for an hour!”

“Teasing you?” He scoffs. “Nonsense. I left it running for an hour, you should be quite satisfied.”

“You know full well that you left it on the lowest speed and barely touching my clit.”

His eyes glimmer in the way that they often do when you've strolled right into his trap. “Ah, I see. So you needed something a little more like this.”

He places the vibrator firmly against your clit and the faint hum suddenly accelerates to a steady, throbbing pulse that immediately draws a strangled moan from your throat.

“And perhaps a little of this—” He slides two fingers inside of you and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense sensation.

“Oh fuck.” Any notion you had of acting aloof and cool has evaporated. Your body warms to him too quickly, too naturally. A casual stroke of his fingers has you arching into his touch, a whimper trapped in your throat.

“Oh dear,” he says, almost nonchalantly. “You seem to be reacting quite strongly. Are you sure I should continue?”

“Please don’t stop.” You say it all in a rush, like it’s one long word.

“Don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop. Please.” You whimper, your hips rolling so that your clit rubs right against the vibrator. Loki’s fingers curl and you arch as something completely unintelligible comes out of your mouth.

“You need this. You’ve needed this all day.” His eyes shine as his fingers thrust faster. “But not as much as you need my cock. You’re desperate for my cock.”

You nod, half lost to pleasure.

“You’ve been such a tease. Such a fucking brat.” The vibrator’s speed increases and you whine. “I ought to punish you, remind you who’s in charge. Make you get on your knees and beg and still leave you wanting for release.”

You whimper, now so deliciously close that you’re starting to shake.

“Luckily for you,” he says, “I have been thinking of you coming all over my cock for hours. So instead of leaving you wanting, I’m going to fuck you until you’ve milked every drop from my cock and you’re going to take it all like a good girl.” His eyes darken. “Now come for me before I change my mind.”

You don’t need to be told twice—you barely need to be told once. The muscles of your cunt flutter against his thrusting fingers and then your orgasm unfurls.

It’s spectacular, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure on every nerve ending, your body shaking as you cry out.

“There you go.” His gaze is hungry, roving over your body, the god of your undoing. He presses the vibrator just a little harder against your clit and you feel that familiar ache stir again just below your belly.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” He’s smirking, but there’s a flicker of awe in his expression, like he can’t quite believe his luck. “Once wasn’t enough for you. You need to come again like the greedy little slut that you are.”

The sparks inside you are fluttering and flickering again, until they catch and send you soaring back into the stratosphere. Your back bows and you cry out as you come.

You’re still shaking when he crawls between your legs moments later, peppering your thighs with messy kisses and spreading your cunt open. The bonds on your wrists and ankles release the moment his mouth touches your cunt and you bury your hands in his hair. You moan as he circles and sucks at your clit and his fingers thrust inside of you.

You look at him nestled between your legs, eyes glazed with desire and it almost sends you over the edge. 

“God, I love your mouth,” you blurt out before you can think about it. “You’re so good at this, it feels so fucking good—”

You’re not sure if it’s the praise or his talent, but the moment you say that, your orgasm begins to crest.

“Fuck, Loki. Fuck, I’m gonna—oh fuck.”

It bursts like a firework and courses through your body like liquid gold, somehow simultaneously frantic and leisurely. You’re dimly aware that you’re moaning with every shuddering roll of your body, praising his mouth and tongue in a way that you know will embarrass you later.

“I told you it would be worth it,” he says after he coaxes the last shudder from you a few minutes later. “I don’t think I’ve heard you scream like that before.”

You don’t even bother opening your eyes. “Bragging is an unattractive quality.”

He tuts. “There’s that attitude again. You know, you’re lucky I didn’t deny you after all your teasing and backtalk.”

You look up at him, eyes hazy. “You like making me come too much to follow through on that.”

He chuckles darkly. “That mouth is going to get you in trouble, wife.”

Sated as you are, the name still lights that spark in your belly. “If you say so, your majesty.”

Within seconds, he’s on you, mouth plundering yours. Your hands fumble with the buckles and clasps on his clothes.

“Help me out,” you say, shoving his surcoat off his shoulders. 

“What was it you said earlier?” He smirks and rolls you both over so he’s on his back. “Ah, yes: work for it.”

You scowl and tug at the fabric. You could just undo his belt and take out his cock, but it’s not enough. You need to feel all of him, need the heat of his skin on yours as he presses inside you.

“You are such an ass.” You yank his shirt over his head.

He laughs. “You want me so badly, you’re shaking.”

He’s right, but you’re not going to concede it. “You want me just as bad. You’ve been holding back from me all day and you can’t stand it. You're desperate to be inside me.

His gaze darkens, but he flicks his wrist and you feel the fabric vanish beneath you.

“Well played, wife,” he says, propping himself up against the headboard. “Now ride me and show me why you deserve to come on my cock.”

You straddle his lap, guiding him to your entrance. “Oh, stop it. We both know you fucking love it when I come on your cock.”

You sink down on him and you both groan. After an extended day of teasing and delays, he cock feels like it’s pressing against every aching part inside of you, soothing a need you’ve felt all day. He nuzzles his face against your neck, nipping at the tender skin of your pulse point. His hands map the expanse of your back and skim down your hips to squeeze your ass.

His hips rock incrementally against you. He wants you to move, to fuck him, and for a moment, you feel drunk on the power.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and raise yourself up on his cock before sinking back down. Your pace is glacial, designed to tease, to drive him wild.

But on the third stroke, he smacks your ass, eyes blazing. “I said ride me.”

It sets off something inside you and you increase your pace before you can second guess it. You catch a glimpse of a feral smile before he pulls you into a rough kiss as you sink back down on him. Your teeth bump against his and you nip hard at his lower lip, which only seems to egg him on.

You’re supposed to be riding him, but his hips are driving up into you just as hard, his firm grip urging you on. Your head tips back as the pressure inside you continues to build. His head dips to your neck, teeth scraping along your collarbone and then down to your breast. He laves his tongue over your nipple and it plucks at the winding coil of pleasure in your hips, your cunt squeezing tighter and tighter on his cock. You whimper and he takes the bud of your nipple between his teeth and tugs ever so slightly.

Your cunt clenches as you creep closer to the edge. He lets out a sharp breath through his teeth as he starts approaching his own end.

“Fuck—”

With a snarl, he flips you to your back in one fluid motion, draping your legs over his broad shoulders. His pace turns rough and a little frantic but he’s hitting a spot that makes your toes curl and your pleas turn even more desperate.

“Fuck—please, please, please—”

His eyes are wild. “Show me what I’ve been missing all day. Let me feel you come. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

His fingers find your clit and suddenly, the rising sensation within you is blossoming into something more akin to a supernova. His hips snap hard against you and the feeling inside you swells and then shatters.

You are vaguely aware that you’re shouting his name as you quake in his arms and your cunt clenches around his cock. Loki moans above you, his jaw going slack and his brow furrowing, his pace slowing slightly like he’s trying to hold back, trying to make it last.

But another wave rolls through you and he shudders and before you can think about it, you’re slipping your legs off his shoulders and around his waist so you can pull him close.

“Come for me.” You whisper it like it’s a secret and he kisses you like he hears. His hips snap hard against you and then he’s kissing you in between Asgardian words you don’t recognize and words that might be your name until it all dissolves into a long groan that he breathes against your lips as he comes so hard that he shakes.

It’s a long moment before he finally eases out and tonight he gives you a long and lingering kiss before he does. Your legs shake as you lie panting on the bed, listening to him shuffle around the room. He must be getting ready for bed. 

You always hate this part. It’s not that you expect or even want affection from him, but sometimes it seems so…businesslike, so transactional. Surely it’s not strange to wish it could be something more, even though it can’t be.

“Sit up.”

You turn your head to look at him, fully prepared to lay into him for telling you what to do, but instead, you find him standing at the side of the bed with a full glass of water.

Something inside you softens just a little. 

“Oh, I’m okay,” you say. “It was just really intense.”

He gives you a dry look. “Humor me.”

Any other time, you might have shot back a sarcastic reply, but there’s something strangely disarming about seeing him standing there buck naked and offering you water. And maybe that little ache of loneliness you felt earlier has made you a little soft. 

You sit up and take the glass from him. “Thanks.”

He sits down next to you on the edge of the bed. “I’ve sent for dinner as well,” he says, absently tracing a finger along your spine. “It’s quite late.”

You take a sip of water. “Do I have to get out of bed for it?”

“So long as you keep the crumbs to your side.”

You wave your hand at him. “You can magic them away.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not a circus pony.”

You give him a dry look. “What’s the point of having magic if you can’t use it to spoil your wife?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss against your shoulder. “Have I not spoiled you enough already today?”

“That stunt with the vibrator was pretty rude.”

He scoffs. “No more rude than getting off on my fingers and leaving me in a meeting for four hours.”

You lean against him and he drapes an arm around your waist. “You of all people should know that turnabout is fair play.”

You’re teasing each other, you realize. It strikes you as a quaintly domestic scene—a couple tangled up together and talking after sex. It’s…kind of nice, in an odd way. 

Almost normal.

Much later, when he’s curled up behind you in bed and the lights are out, he asks a question that you suspect has been on his mind all evening: “What did you think of our experiment?”

You know there’s a reason why he waited until now to ask you this. You can hear it in the careful way he’s asking, how he’s trying to hide that little note of hope.

The urge to be sarcastic or sharp is suspiciously absent.

“Well,” you say, letting the word hang there in the dark for just a moment. “My legs still feel like jello. Kind of hard to argue with those results.”

It’s only when you feel him relax that you realize he was bracing himself for something sharper. The thought stops you. You’d never thought anything you said mattered to him like that.

“Perhaps it’s an experiment we ought to repeat.” He says it casually, but there’s a subtle note of hope that sparks a strange feeling of sympathy.

You nod before you can talk yourself out of it. “Yeah.” The silence prickles at you in a way it never has before. “Maybe Tuesdays, if that works?”

He’s trying to hide it, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “As her majesty commands.”

Next chapter coming soon

[itadorey]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

[bylertruth3r]

So Noah said.. his favorite Byler scenes are in s5, he basically mentioned all the endgames yesterday, he said that s5 is really sad ,really shocking and really sweet, Bylers will be happy, he said that s4 Byler isn't his favorite because Mike was mean to Will which implied that Mike is nice to Will in s5🙂‍↕️

PAINTING MENTION

Byler height difference is alive and well 🙂‍↕️

He's definitely talking about the Byler kiss or Will's coming out

Platonic Elmike <33

Just to clear up any possible doubts, Finn said this based on the beginning of the show so s1, he only said he prefers s1 mlvn over s1 Byler that's it, no reason to freak out and he was talking about it as a fan of the show, he never mentioned s5 and in another panel he said he doesn't ship anyone and he could've said because of the "love" confession in s4 but he didn't

S5 BYLER IN THE UPSIDE DOWN TOGETHER?? MIKE SAVING WILL?? Finn also mentioned gunfights

Mike was supposed to go in the upside down to save Will in s1

Finn exposed Mike's lie about the love at first sight thing, thank you Finn 😭 "i don't think romance was on his mind even initially when he found Eleven", also him saying "going into s5 they're still a couple" instead of "in s5 they're still a couple" is reallly interesting #noticing (they're gonna break up in s5)

[gloriousunknownstarlight]

How would the LADS men react if you faked an orgasm.

TW:SMUT

Sylusxreader zaynexreader

xavierxreader rafayelxreader calebxreader **coming soon**

SYLUS

You were so so tired from work you couldn't help it and you thought he wouldn't notice.

Sylus leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs in a low, warning tone. "I may be many things, kitten, but I'm not blind to your little...tricks." His fingers tighten on your waist, a silent reminder of his grip on you. "You needn't trouble yourself with such obvious displays. I can see right through them and I must say, your acting skills leave much to be desired."

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to get one over on me."

Sylus leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice a low rumble. "But I must admit, your little performance was... entertaining." His hand slides up the curve of your side, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. "Keep this up, and you might just make things interesting, Sweetie." His tone is light, almost playful, but there's an undercurrent of something more, a promise and a warning rolled into one. "Just don't expect me to make it too easy for you.

He continues his relentless teasing, bringing you to the precipice of ecstasy only to cruelly pull back, leaving you hovering on the razor's edge of rapture. The night stretches on, an eternity of pleasure-pain as Sylus takes you to the brink again and again, his own desire growing with each of your denied climaxes.

Finally, as the first light of dawn begins to peek through the windows, Sylus leans in close, his eyes blazing with a feral, triumphant light. "Beg for it, kitten," he commands, his voice a low, dark growl. "Beg for your release, and maybe, just maybe, I'll give you what you need." His fingers hover at the entrance to your dripping sex, a hairsbreadth away from the plunge that would grant you the sweet oblivion you so desperately crave.

"Sylus pleasee!" You moan

"Please what, my sweet kitten? His touch searing your over-sensitive flesh. "Tell me what you need, sweetie. I want to hear you say it."

His other hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back to expose the column of your throat. Sylus' lips descend, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your jugular before he sucks a dark mark into your flesh, branding you as his. "Beg for your release, and I'll give you the pleasure you've been denied all night long." His voice is a low, seductive purr, each word dripping with dark promise and unspoken threat.

Sylus' eyes flash with a feral, triumphant light as your desperate plea reaches his ears, your breathy "I beg you, Sylus" like the sweetest music to his ego. "Good girl," he praises, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seems to reverberate through every fiber of your being. "Such a good, obedient little kitten you are."

With a sudden, sharp thrust of his hips, Sylus sheaths himself fully inside you, burying his thick, hard length to the hilt in your dripping, aching sex. "Fuck, sweetheart..." he grits out between clenched teeth, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as your scorching heat engulfs him like a velvet vise. "So fucking tight, so perfect..."

He doesn't give you a moment to adjust, instead setting a hard, deep rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Take it y/n," Sylus snarls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he holds you in place, a willing victim to his lust. "Take every fucking inch of me, like you were made for it."

His other hand comes up to wrap around your throat, his grip firm but not painful, a possessive hold that sends a thrill of dark excitement coursing through your veins. "Scream for me, sweetie"

As your climax finally bursts upon you, Sylus feels your sex clamp down around him like a silken vise, your inner muscles rippling and milking his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you. "That's my good fucking girl," he praises, his voice a dark, wicked murmur against your skin. "So fucking perfect, y/n,next time you think about trying to trick me, kitten," he murmurs, his voice a sinful temptation, "Remember this moment. Remember how easily I saw through you, and how breathtaking the consequences were."

ZAYNE

I was supposed to make myself cum on his desk, he was right in front of me and I was so nervous someone would catch us that I decided to fake it.

Zayne leanes back in his chair, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Really, y/n? Faking it now, are we? I thought I taught you better than that. My medical expertise extends far beyond simply diagnosing physical ailments."

"I know exactly how you look when you cum, y/n. The way your lips part slightly,your soft gasps as your body trembles with ecstasy. The flush that spreads across your skin, painting your chest and neck a deep, rosy hue. The way your eyes flutter shut, lost in a haze of pleasure as wave after wave of sensation crashes over you." He says looking up at you.

You feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly peel them down your thighs, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. "Now, let's see that look of pure rapture on your face as I devour your sweet little cunt," he growls before diving in, his tongue delving deep into your dripping sex.

As Zayne continues his relentless assault on your clit, alternating between long, slow licks, teasing bites, he pauses momentarily to glance up at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and lust.

How many times do you plan on lying to me like this again? He whispers, punctuating his question with a particularly hard suck on your clit, his lips sealing around the throbbing bud as he sucks it into his mouth, his tongue flicking mercilessly back and forth.

He can feel your thighs trembling on either side of his head, your fingers tangling in his black hair as you hold him in place, silently begging for more.

Zayne pauses his ministrations as you mumble incoherently, your pleasure-addled mind struggling to form coherent words. He can feel your body twitching and writhing beneath him, desperate for release, but he needs an answer from you.

With a sharp slap to your dripping sex, the sound echoing obscenely in the room, Zayne growls, "Use your words, y/n. I can't give you what you need until you answer me".

I won't do it again, I..I promise! You say, your voice trembling with desire.

He could see the desperation in your gaze, the way your chest is heaving with each ragged breath, and it only spurs him on.

Without a word, he dives back between your thighs, burying his face in your dripping sex with a low, hungry growl. His tongue deep, plunging into your tight channel as he laps up your sweet essence, relishing the taste of your arousal.

At the same time, Zayne slides two long, thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out at a steady, relentless pace. He curls them just right, rubbing that special spot deep within you that always makes you see stars, determined to push you closer and closer to the edge.

The obscene sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked pussy fills the room, mingling with the lewd slurps and suckles of his mouth on your sex. Zayne is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, driven by the singular goal of making you scream his name as you come undone.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and lust-filled, taking in every twitch, every shudder, every expression of ecstasy that crosses your face. And as he feels your body start to tense, your thighs beginning to quake, he knows you are close. So close to giving him what he wants, what you both need.

Zayne demands against your cunt, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my tongue, my fingers, my face. I want to feel you, to taste you, to be drenched in your pleasure as you let go completely."

He sucks hard on your clit, his fingers pumping faster, driving you closer and closer to that precipice of ecstasy and with a final, sharp thrust of his finger and a particularly intense suck, Zayne sends you falling over the edge.

Your scream of ecstasy echoes off the walls as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, back arching off the desk as pleasure unlike anything you had ever known consumes every nerve ending. Zayne can feel your essence gushing out around his fingers, coating his hand, his wrist, his face as he works you through each intense wave of pleasure.

He doesnt let up, even as you tremble and shudder through the aftershocks. Zayne's tongue continues its relentless assault, lapping up every drop of your release, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible, he wants to wring every last second of bliss from your quivering form, to brand the feel of you coming undone on his mouth, on his fingers, into his memory for all eternity.

Zayne's eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with lust, remains locked on you as he finally pulls back, he looks up at you with a smirk of pure male satisfaction, taking in the sight of your flushed face and trembling body as you come down from your intense high.

Zayne glances over at the desk , taking in the mess you made in his usually pristine workspace. Papers were scattered, pens and pencils knocked to the floor and puddle of your arousal had pooled on the polished wood, dripping down to splatter on the carpet below.

"I can't say I mind the mess, not when it means I've given you the release you so desperately needed. Not when it means I've had the immense pleasure of watching you come apart in my office. But I'm far from done with you. I'm going to make you cum again and again until you learn your lesson"

Zayne punctuates his words with a slow, sensual lick along the seam of your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆/𝑩.𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒅

Autistic!reader. I tried my best to make this as realistic as possible. Hopefully it came out okay.

It was supposed to be a good day. A nice, relaxed afternoon with Beth and her friends; Leah, Kyra, Alessia, and Katie. Beth had convinced you it would be fun, saying they all liked you and wanted to get to know you better. You had been hesitant at first, the idea of socializing with a group of people you weren’t entirely comfortable with making your stomach twist in unease. But Beth’s insistence, paired with her reassuring smile, had eventually won you over.

It had started off well enough. You had sat next to Beth on the couch, her hand resting lightly on your thigh as the others chatted animatedly around you. Occasionally, they’d turn their attention to you, asking questions about your interests. At first, you answered earnestly, your voice soft but steady. Alessia asked about your favorite book, and you’d immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation about the most recent book you’d read that had become your favourite.

After that, the questions kept coming, and you kept answering. And it was okay, at first. Until you started noticing a pattern. A pattern that made your stomach twist further. Every time you finished talking, both Leah and Katie, laughed.

At first, you thought they were laughing because they found your answers amusing or endearing. Beth always said your enthusiasm was one of her favorite things about you. But as the conversation continued, the laughter didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt pointed. Katie and Leah especially seemed to find every answer you gave funny, even when you weren’t trying to be.

Your confusion began to morph into something heavier; something cold and sharp that settled in your chest. You were used to people misunderstanding you or finding your honesty a little jarring. It wasn’t new. But this felt different. You weren’t sure why at first, but then it hit you: they weren’t laughing with you. They were laughing at you.

You felt the humiliation rise in your throat like bile. You weren’t stupid. Naïve, maybe. Socially awkward, definitely. But you weren’t stupid. And yet, the way they looked at you, the way they giggled and shared glances after every response you gave, made you feel small.

Beth hadn’t noticed. She was too busy chatting with Kyra about something else. You glanced at her, silently willing her to look your way and see the discomfort etched across your face. But she didn’t.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you murmured, standing abruptly.

No one seemed to notice except Beth, who glanced at you with a small smile. “You okay, love?”

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice, and hurried down the hallway. Once you reached the bathroom, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against it for a second before beginning to pace.

The humiliation was suffocating now, and you couldn’t stop the way your hands flapped slightly at your sides as you tried to calm the storm brewing inside you. Your chest ached with frustration and hurt, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Beth had said they liked you. She’d promised they liked you. But clearly, that wasn’t true.

There was a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, and you froze.

“Love? It’s me.” Beth’s voice was gentle, but you didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to speak.

The door creaked open slowly, and Beth stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on you. Her expression shifted to one of concern as she took you in.

“Oh, babe,” she said softly, stepping closer.

You wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave you alone. You were mad at her. She’d lied to you. But when she wrapped her arms around you, the familiar pressure was grounding, and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into her.

Beth leaned back against the sink, letting your weight rest against her as she held you tightly. One of her hands stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, while the other rested on the back of your head, cradling you gently.

“What happened?” she asked after a while, her voice low and careful. “Talk to me.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, focusing instead on grazing your fingers over the soft skin of her back. The repetitive motion calmed you, anchoring you as you tried to sort through your thoughts.

“They laughed at me,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Beth’s hand stilled against your back. “What?”

“Your friends.” You pulled back just enough to look at her, though your gaze didn’t meet hers. It hovered somewhere over her shoulder instead. “They were laughing at me. They think I’m stupid.”

Beth frowned, her eyes searching your face. “Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s true,” you said bluntly. “They laughed after every answer I gave. Even when I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Beth’s arms tightened around you, her expression shifting to one of anger; not at you, but at the situation. “They don’t think you’re stupid,” she said firmly. “I promise you that.”

You shook your head, your hands still grazing over her skin. “You lied to me. You said they liked me.”

“They do like you,” Beth insisted.

“They don’t,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly. “If they did, they wouldn’t have laughed at me.”

Beth sighed, her forehead resting against yours as she tried to figure out what to say. “They’re just…they don’t know you like I do,” she said after a moment. “Sometimes people laugh because they don’t know how else to react. It doesn’t mean they think you’re stupid.”

You didn’t respond, your fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her back.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Beth whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I should’ve noticed. I should’ve said something.”

You shrugged slightly, still not meeting her gaze. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” she said, her voice firm but still gentle. “You shouldn’t have to feel like that. Not ever.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet. Beth’s hand moved to cup your cheek, tilting your head up slightly so you had no choice but to look at her.

“I love you,” she said, her blue eyes earnest. “And I think you’re brilliant. If they can’t see that, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Her words made your chest ache in a different way, and you felt your lip wobble slightly as you fought back tears. “I’m mad at you,” you said, your voice small.

Beth nodded. “I know.

“You lied to me.”

“I know,” she repeated. “And I’m sorry.”

You studied her for a moment, searching her face for any sign of insincerity. But there was nothing there.

“I just…I wanted you to feel comfortable,” Beth continued. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think they’d act like that.”

You nodded slowly, your fingers trailing up to her shoulder. “It’s okay. But I don’t think I want to hang out with them again.”

“Okay,” Beth said without hesitation. “You don’t have to.”

The weight in your chest eased slightly at her words, and you let out a small sigh as your lips quirked up into a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

Beth smiled softly, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “Anything for you, love.” Even though you were still a little mad at her, you couldn’t help but lean in and brush your lips against her own. Beth’s smile widened just slightly as she cupped your jaw to lightly coax you forward into a proper kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, your fingers toying with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

After a few quiet moments, you leaned back into her embrace, letting her warmth and steady presence soothe the lingering hurt. You pressed a kiss to her neck, feeling the way she squeezed you tightly in response.

After a while, she pulled back, pressing a playful kiss to your nose. You couldn’t help but smile in response, and Beth retuned it as she lead you back through to the bedroom with the promise she’d be back in just a few minutes, and you nod, curling up on her side of the bed with your book, just as you always did.

You trusted Beth to handle it. If there was one thing you knew about her, it was that she never let anyone disrespect you. But even that thought wasn’t enough to soothe the turmoil in your mind completely. But I would ease. It always did.

In the living room, Beth stood in front of her friends, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pressed into a tight line. Alessia and Kyra sat quietly on the couch, their expressions uneasy, while Katie and Leah leaned back in their seats, clearly not expecting what was coming.

“I hope you’re happy with yourselves,” Beth began, her accent more pronounced in her frustration. “Do you have any idea how upset you made her?”

Leah tilted her head, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Come on, Beth. We were just joking around. It’s not that deep.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Not that deep? Leah, she left the room practically in tears because of the way you two were laughing at her. How is that not deep?”

Katie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We weren’t being mean. She’s just-well, she’s a bit literal, isn’t she? It’s not like we said anythin’ bad.”

“That’s not the point!” Beth snapped, her voice rising. “She’s literal because she’s autistic. Did either of you even stop to think about that? Or did you just decide to laugh at her for being different?”

The room went silent. Leah blinked, the words hitting her like a sudden gust of wind. Katie opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, for once unsure of what to say.

Kyra shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking between Beth and the others. “Beth, we didn’t mean to upset her. Alessia and I didn’t even say anything…”

“But you didn’t stop them, did you?” Beth shot back, her glare moving to Kyra and Alessia. ��You sat there and let it happen. You know what those two are like. You could have said something, but you didn’t.”

Alessia’s cheeks flushed with guilt, and Kyra nodded solemnly, their silence a quiet admission of responsibility.

Beth turned her focus back to Katie and Leah, her voice colder now. “Because of the two of you, she doesn’t want to see any of you again. Do you realize how much that hurts her? How much that hurts me?”

Katie frowned, her arms crossing defensively. “She’s being a bit dramatic, don’t you think? It was just banter, Beth. She’ll get over it.”

Beth’s hand slammed against the back of a chair, startling all of them. “Don’t you dare call her dramatic,” she seethed. “Do you even hear yourselves? She’s not dramatic. She processes things differently. She doesn’t understand your so-called banter the way you think she does. And instead of making her feel included, you made her feel like a joke.”

Leah leaned forward, her voice softer now. “We didn’t know…about her being autistic. You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“I shouldn’t have to mention it!” Beth exclaimed, her voice breaking slightly. “You should treat her with respect regardless. But now that you do know, you better think long and hard about how you’re going to make this right.”

The weight of Beth’s words settled heavily in the room. Leah ran a hand through her hair, looking genuinely remorseful, while Katie’s defensive posture began to soften.

Beth took a deep breath, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I love you guys, but I also love her,” she said quietly but firmly. “And I will not tolerate anyone making her feel less than. If you can’t understand that, then you’re not welcome in our lives.”

The room remained silent as Beth turned on her heel and left, not sparing them another glance.

*

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[carnalcrows]

BRAT TAMING - THANOS

pairing: thanos x top male reader

synopsis: There is an uninvited guest at your solo smoking session.

content warnings: 18+, bottom thanos, weed, begging, breeding, creampie, orgasm denial.

word count: 1.1k

A/N: I can't find the req to this 😭😭

The arena was nothing but cold steel, bloodstains, and the constant fear of death looming over you. So, when you finally managed to find a hidden spot away from the cameras, you lit up a blunt that you had managed to somehow sneak in, inhaling deep, letting the tension in your body ease for the first time in days.

You didn't expect company, but then again, of course someone would show up.

"Tch, you’re really bold, huh?" a cocky voice piped up, and you turned to see him—Thanos, the purple-haired loudmouth rapper. His presence was unmistakable, as was that damn grin that screamed trouble.

He plopped down next to you without asking, nodding toward your blunt. "Pass it."

You considered telling him to piss off, but there was something almost amusing about his audacity. With a sigh, you handed him the blunt, watching as he inhaled like a pro.

"Damn," he exhaled, smirking at you. "Didn’t think a guy like you would have good taste."

"And what kind of guy am I?" you asked, raising a brow.

"Boring. Too serious. Probably one of those dudes who thinks he's got everything under control." He chuckled, flicking ash onto the ground. "Bet you're the type who likes to be in charge, huh?"

You side-eyed him. "And what about you?"

"Oh, me?" He grinned, leaning back on his elbows. "I like to piss people off. Keeps things interesting."

He kept running his mouth, going on about how he was the best rapper in Korea, how people worshipped him, and how, if the cameras weren’t watching, he’d probably be throwing the guards around like rag dolls.

You let him talk, dragging slowly on the blunt, waiting for the moment he'd slip up. And, sure enough—

"Bet you’ve never met someone like me, huh?" he teased, his gaze flicking to yours. "A guy who knows he’s hot shit and doesn’t take orders."

You let out a slow, deep breath and turned to face him completely. "You don’t take orders?"

"Nope," he said smugly.

"So what if I told you to shut up?"

His grin widened. "I’d probably talk even more."

You leaned in, closing the distance between you two. His breath hitched for just a second—not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

"You talk too much," you murmured, taking the blunt from his hand and pressing it to your lips. His eyes followed your movements, his usual cocky expression faltering just a little.

"And what, you gonna do something about it?" he taunted, but his voice was quieter now, his bravado teetering on the edge.

"Maybe," you mused, tilting your head. "But I don't think you’d last five seconds without running that mouth of yours."

That did it. His smirk twitched. "Tch. You wish."

"Prove it."

He went silent.

The air between you both got heavy. He wasn’t used to someone checking him like this. Every muscle in his body was tense, like he was waiting for you to make a move.

You leaned back slightly, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

"Tch…" he scoffed, but you could tell—he’d lost the game. The brat had been tamed.

"Maybe I do like to be in charge," you admitted, standing up and stretching. "But it looks like someone likes being put in their place, too."

He huffed, looking away, but the slight flush at the tips of his ears didn’t go unnoticed.

"Shut up," he muttered, but he didn't move away as you stood over him, asserting every ounce of control you had.

"Make me," you challenged.

Without warning, he pulled you in by the front of your tracksuit, crashing his lips onto yours.

You were mildly surprise, but you reciprocated the kiss with a sense of eagerness, you hands gripping onto his waist.

Wary of any guard that might pop up from a corner, you pushed the purple-haired man further into the tight spot, pushing his pants down and lifting his legs up without prior warning.

He gasped– looking up to face you, but you were too busy with you fingers, spitting on your hand and letting it slid onto his naked hole- making him flinch.

Once you felt that your saliva had worked enough, you tugged down your own track pants, revealing your erection.

The other man's eyes widened, he had never seen a cock so– big before.

Without warning, you pressed the tip in his hole– making his head hit the wall with a loud moan– before which you covered his mouth with the hand that wasn't holding him up.

“Fucking brat– can't stay quite even when you're filled to the brim, hm?”

Unable to respond– he merely whimpered, pretty eyes rolling to the back of his head as you sheathed yourself in him all the way to the brim.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck and pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, groaning at how tight he was.

Your repeated thrusts kept Thanos mumbling incoherently even with your hand covering his mouth. You merely rolled your eyes and pistoned into him even deeper– making his back arch against the wall.

Soon– you felt yourself at the brink of release and didn't bother to pull out, coating the other man's insides a pearly white.

Thanos hadn't come yet– but you slowed down your thrusts, making the man whine.

“You thought I would let you off that easy? Beg for it.”

You removed your hand from his mouth, and the other man immediately began blabbering and begging for you to let him cum.

After listening for a minute or two, you had grown hard again, and began to resume your thrusts– making him let out a loud moan.

Your other hand worked on his cock, slowly jerking him off as compared to the rapid pace you were fucking him at.

Soon, he felt his orgasm wash over him like a waterfall, and came all over your hand.

You kept him upright, and found the blunt discarded on the floor. Thankfully it was still lit.

You picked it up and placed it in Thanos’ mouth, to which he groaned– head falling back as he inhaled deep.

You slowly placed him down, cleaned him up with some cloth that was lying around and sat down next to him, taking the blunt from his mouth and inhaling the smoke.

The silence between you both lingered even after the blunt was long gone.

Thanos didn’t say much after that. For the first time since you met him, he seemed thoughtful—or maybe just trying to figure out why he let you get under his skin so damn easily.

"We're gonna pretend that didn’t just happen?" he finally asked, standing up beside you.

You smirked. "Nope."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered, "Next time, bring more. We’re not done."

You watched him walk away, his usual cocky stride slightly stiffer than before. You just chuckled, shaking your head.

"Yeah," you murmured. "We’ll see about that."

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[auraisereigh]

"For Her, Always"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Riorson reader Request: Garrick x riorson little sister (she is a 2 year with Bohdi they are bff) they fell in love when they were little and now she is a rider but they hide what they feel to not upset Xaden, but the some guy flirts with her and we get MAD JELOUS Garrick and he hurts the guy on challenges, Xaden notices and they have a talk so then reader and Garrick can be together (Love confession Bridgerton style) wc: 6.8 ☆ no specific spoilers. Uses pronouns: she/her.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

If there was one thing about Garrick Travis then it was that he was attractive, always had been- even when he was younger. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel something for him. And maybe, just maybe, I would have said something by now if it wasn't for the fact that he's best friends with my brother.

Xaden.

He has enough on his mind. Adding to that is the last thing on my mind. Even if that means I'll have to keep my feelings to myself. Even if that means my heart will keep yearning for what I can't have. At least I can still stare at him. From a distance, in the practice room. It's better than nothing I suppose.

"You're staring." Bodhi muzes next to me. I shoot a small glare his way as I continue to wrap my hands for sparring. "Am not." I respond tense.

Second year is more difficult and stressfull than it seemed. RSC hanging over my head. Xaden has done his part in preparing me but that didn't make it less terrifying and seeing as it's unpredictable when leadership would come and get us, well, that just makes it worse.

Not that I have seen a lot of Xaden lately, he's been occupied with a certain Sorrengail.

That thought brings me back to where I am. Xaden is training the youngest Sorrengail on one of the mats in the corners, Garrick not far away from them as he practices with his sword.

And I'd hate to admit it but I am staring.

After I finish wrapping my hands I stand and pick up my daggers. They had always been my preferred weapon. Light but easy to use.

I go through my usual warm up routine. Swinging them around. It's all going smoothly until I hear a voice call out. "Looking good, beautiful."

I glance toward the voice, only to find Oren—the overconfident third-year with a cocky grin plastered on his face—walking toward me. He’s twirling his sword as if to show off, his steps relaxed.

“Your technique’s good, but I think you’re missing something,” he says, a smirk on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “And what would that be?” He shrugs, a look of mischief appears in his eyes. “A partner. You know, someone to make things more… interesting.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe someone who can keep up with you.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on my daggers, spinning one lazily between my fingers. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks though.” I reply sarcastic, focusing back on my daggers. In the corner of my eye i catch Garrick's gaze.

But Oren doesn’t back down. “Come on, beautiful. You’ve got moves, but I bet I could teach you a thing or two. Maybe over a Meal?” His grin widens. I shake off the shiver that runs through my spine. An uncomfortable look on my face.

"Back off Oren." Bodhi's voice cuts through the tension. "She's already got someone to spar with." Bodhi's voice is on the cold side, almost as sharp as my brother Xaden's.

I give Bodhi a grateful smile as Oren retreats a step, his hands up in surrender. The smirk on his face is still present and I can tell he's not finished. For now maybe. But not forever.

♤

I stand by the surrounding crowd. All our eyes are on the mat, at the fight that is happening. It's a good match-- the matches before this one were a little meh but this one is actually good, we might be onto something.

The match ends after the second year taps out. From the corner of my eye I can see Garrick talking to Emmeterio. Why would he talk to him?

"Next match. Seifert and Travis." Emmeterio announces and my heart jumpes in my throat. That can't be a coincidence can it? Garrick against Oren not even a day after the small incident in the sparring room.

I can feel Xaden's eyes on me but I don't turn to face him. My eyes are solely on Garrick as he takes his place on the mat. His face holds the sole emotion of anger.

Oren charges first but Garrick side steps him, around his attack. Oren tries again but Garrick takes a hold of his arm, twisting it and Oren let's out a groan.

I can see Garrick say something to Oren but it's too quiet for me to hear. Garrick starts twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. He puts his leg between Oren's and he falls backwards on the mat. I knew Garrick was a good fighter but he's really good.

Garrick easily straddles Oren, a dagger at his throat and I wouldn't wish the look upon Garricks face to anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

He moves his dagger slightly, enough to draw blood but not enough to seriously injure him. I hold my breath at the sight. There is no way Garrick would actually kill him right?

He presses the blad harder against Oren's neck. I hear the familiar tap against the mat, he taps out. I let out the breath I'd been holding, Garrick slowly gets off him. He takes a step backwards, his dagger still in his hand.

I also take a step back, most people in this room night not know what this means but some do. I can feel bodhi's and Xaden's eyes in my back, burning holes.

I can see Xaden follow Garrick out of the sparring room and I don't hesitate to follow. I follow them quietly until they stop in a dark alley.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Xaden snaps at Garrick. His voice full of authority. I stay hidden behind the wall.

"He was flirting with her last night." I hear Garrick argue, frustration laced in his tone. "I'm aware of that. I saw it to but she can defend herself." Xaden voice grows bored.

"You're telling me you don't care that an asshole was flirting with your sister?" The frustration in his voice grows harsher.

“Of course I care,” Xaden snaps. “But I trust her to handle it. You, however, handled it as though you were issuing a challenge. That’s not protecting her—it’s claiming her.”

Garrick falls silent for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the alley. “Maybe I am,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight I’ve never heard before. My breath catches in my throat.

“You don’t get to do that unless you’re willing to back it up,” Xaden warns, his tone razor-sharp. “You don’t get to make her your responsibility unless she’s choosing you. So tell me, Garrick, what exactly are your intentions?”

There’s a long pause before Garrick speaks, but when he does, his voice is steady. “My intentions are to love her. To protect her. To be the one she can turn to for the rest of her life. If that’s claiming her, so be it. I’ve loved her for longer than I care to admit, and I’m done hiding it.”

I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the gasp that threatens to escape. Did he just say…?

“And what about her?” Xaden challenges. “Have you even thought about what she wants? Or is this just about you?”

“It’s about her,” Garrick snaps back. “It’s always been about her.” “Then maybe you should say something to her instead of throwing daggers at every man who looks her way,” Xaden retorts. “Because this whole display? It’s not going to win her over. Talk to her. And for both your sakes, stop making me the middleman.”

I hear footsteps retreating, the sound of Xaden walking away. My heart pounds as I realize I’m now alone with Garrick, hidden just around the corner.

I take a shaky breath, stepping out of the shadows. “You could’ve just asked me,” I say softly.

Garrick whirls around, his eyes wide with shock. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” I admit, stepping closer. “Is it true? What you said?”

He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter—” “It does matter,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Because I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that what I feel for you is one-sided. That you could never see me as anything more than Xaden’s little sister. And now you’re telling me that you… that you’ve felt the same way?”

His gaze snaps to mine, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief. “You… you feel the same?”

I nod, my chest tightening as the words spill out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Garrick. But I thought you’d never… I thought it wasn’t possible.”

He takes a step toward me, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, keeping my distance. Watching you with Oren last night, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And today?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “On the mat?” “I wanted him to know,” he admits, his thumb brushing against my skin. “That you’re not just some girl to flirt with. That you’re… everything to me.”

I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes as I lean into his touch. “Then stop keeping your distance,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, years of longing and unspoken words pouring into that one moment. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

I smile, my heart lighter than it’s ever been. “You’ve already done enough,” I whisper. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you try.”

♤

[meazalykov]

taken back by your actions

sydney lohmann x reader

all of your relationships get sabotaged, and you do not know why

warnings: sydney being a bit possessive but nothing too much

you still remember the day you walked out of arsenal's training ground for the last time. the weight pressing down on your shoulders had become unbearable, suffocating even. 

every interaction with jonas felt like another nail driven into your resolve, chipping away at your love for the game. the way that you hated stepping on the pitch for this man was something that you did not realize for a while. his constant criticism lingered like an unwelcome shadow, twisting your passion into something unrecognizable.

it was as if every word he spoke was designed to remind you of your shortcomings, of how you were never quite enough for his vision of the team.

the nights in london became longer, the silence of your flat heavy with regret and frustration. you hated this. you hated this shit! you’d catch glimpses of your reflection in the darkened windows, eyes tired and spirit battered. 

north london’s vibrancy faded, replaced by the monochrome routine of surviving each day under his scrutiny. teammates whispered their sympathies, even though they were going through the same thing themselves.. but no one could truly understand the hollow ache of feeling unwanted in a place that was supposed to be your sanctuary.

when the offer from bayern came, it felt like a lifeline tossed into your stormy seas. munich was the light in a place where you could breathe again, where you could actually find joy in playing again. 

the transition wasn’t without its challenges. the german city was foreign, its streets winding and unfamiliar. the mornings started with the crisp air of bavaria brushing against your cheeks as you made your way to training.

later on… the girls at bayern welcomed you with open arms. tuva was the first to reach out, her warm smile and infectious laughter making the locker room feel less daunting. she was a whirlwind of energy, eager to include you in team traditions, making you feel like a part of the family from the start. 

training was different here… more driven you shall say. it was intense too, but without the undercurrent of judgment you’d grown accustomed to.

you felt nostalgia when you played against georgia during a 1v1 in training, you guys used to battle it out during those manchester city vs arsenal games a long time ago.

overtime throghout the season.. there were evenings spent at georgia’s too, everyone was crowded around her tiny kitchen, the smell of homemade food filling the space while laughter echoed off the walls.

the days blended into a rhythm. you were still healing, pieces of your past lurking in the corners of your mind, but you were not in london anymore. you felt the beginnings of something you thought you had lost...hope.

in munich, you met a girl who you were hitting it off with. 

maeve. 

maeve was a pretty, very tall, model. the red hair of hers matched her freckles and her olive medium toned skin. maeve was kind, yet knew how to stand up for herself. she was creative, knew how to take art seriously, and y/n thought that maeve was someone that she wanted while living here in munich. 

things were good for a good month and a half. you always saw maeve after your trainings, the girl even came to one of your games against frankfurt. however, you first noticed something was off with maeve when she stopped replying as quickly. 

the late-night conversations you used to have, the playful teasing, the way she’d send voice notes just to hear your laugh…it all faded into a long silence. 

at first, you thought she was just busy. i mean.. your football schedules were demanding, and you understood that maeve was probably busy with her model work. 

suddenly, you realized that maeve ghosted you entirely.  

you never got an explanation. just a cold, quiet withdrawal, like she had never been interested in the first place. it stung, but you moved on, or at least tried to. 

when you met stevie, just two months after maeve left.. you thought maybe things would be different. stevie was confident, her blonde smooth hair matching her words, and she had this ridiculous way of making you laugh at the most inappropriate times. 

you liked her…maybe not head-over-heels yet, but you liked her.  

then, it happened again.  

stevie started pulling away, just like maeve had. the blonde’s texts turned into one-word answers, her playful flirting disappeared.

before you knew it, she was gone too.  

except this time, you knew why.  

you had seen it with your own eyes.  

that night at the bar, you had been with the bayern girls, unwinding after a tough match the night before, when you saw stevie at the counter, nursing a drink and laughing at something. 

you hadn’t planned to intrude until you noticed who she was laughing with.  

sydney.  

your stomach turned as you watched them, sydney leaning in close, eyes sharp with intention. her hand grazed stevie’s arm, her lips curled into something undeniably flirtatious. it wasn’t just friendly banter…it was calculated. 

of course… just a few days later, stevie was gone. just like maeve.  

that’s when the fury set in.  

a week later.. the locker room was packed before the game against hoffenheim, but you didn’t care. 

you stormed in, ignoring the looks, how all of the girls were in harmony while tying their boots. however, the girls noticed the air shifting as you marched straight toward sydney, who had just sat down on the bench, wiping the sweat from her forehead.  

“taking other people’s girls? are you kidding me?” your voice was sharp, unwavering, slicing through the room like a blade. 

conversations around you died instantly. 

all eyes turned to the two of you.  

sydney blinked up at you, feigning confusion. 

“what the hell are you talking about?”  

“don’t play dumb,” you shot back, your hands clenched at your sides. 

“first maeve, now stevie? what, you just get some sick pleasure out of ruining the talking stages of every girl i talk to?”  

sydney exhaled, shaking her head. 

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”  

“oh, i know exactly what i’m saying.” you took a step closer, not caring how your voice raised. 

“you couldn’t even be subtle about it this time. you were all over stevie that night, and next thing i know, she’s done with me. just like maeve. what is your problem?”  

sydney looked away, jaw tight. 

“you wouldn’t understand.”  

you scoffed. 

“try me.”  

sydney looked up.

“its not like you guys were officially together anyways y/n, relax.“

silence. sydney’s fingers curled around the towel in her lap, knuckles whitening. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the lack of an answer only ignited your anger further.  

“you’re pathetic.” the words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with frustration and betrayal. 

“i actually thought you had some worth.”  

the second the words left your mouth, magda was there, her arms wrapping around your waist from behind.  

“that’s enough,” she murmured, voice firm yet gentle as she physically lifted you away. your feet barely skimmed the floor as she hauled you out of the locker room, your rage still burning hot.  

inside, the girls were silent for a moment before klara spoke up.  

“okay, but seriously,” she said, staring straight at sydney, 

“what the hell is your problem with y/n? you’re acting like a jealous ex.”  

a few of the girls snickered, but sydney didn’t even flinch. the german’s gaze was locked on the door you had just been carried through, something unreadable in her expression.  

klara tilted her head. 

“wait.” her eyes narrowed. 

“are you actually—oh my god!”  

“what?” georgia leaned in.  

klara turned to face the rest of the room, looking somewhere between amused and utterly exasperated. 

“sydney has a thing for y/n.”  

the locker room erupted in noise. shocked gasps, laughter, disbelief. tuva nearly choked on her water.  

sydney groaned, burying her face in her hands. 

“shut up.”  

two months passed, and you didn’t speak to sydney. 

not once.  

she noticed. oh, she noticed.  

she noticed in the way you didn’t even glance at her in training, how you ignored her presence completely. she noticed in the way you laughed with georgia, leaned into lena and lea during team outings, but never even stood near her. 

she noticed in the way her name left your vocabulary entirely, as if she had never been a part of your life to begin with.  

and it was killing her.  

so when she finally got you alone in the locker room, when it was just the two of you left in the quiet space, she cracked.  

“i did it because i wanted you.”  

the words came out rushed, raw, like she had been holding them in for years. 

you had just finished untying your cleats when you froze, looking up at her with a furrowed brow.  

“what?”  

sydney exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. 

“i hated seeing you with those people. maeve, stevie…god, it was fucking unbearable. they didn’t deserve you. they didn’t even see you the way i do.”  

your chest tightened, confusion laced with something deeper. 

“what the fuck are you talking about, sydney?”  

she stepped closer, her voice quieter now, but just as intense. 

“i wanted you for myself, y/n. i wanted you before i even realized it. after that champions league match while you were at arsenal, after we tackled each other…fuck, i hated you for a second, but then i looked at you, like really looked at you, and suddenly i couldn’t think about anything else.”  

your breath hitched. 

“sydney—”  

“i know i went about it the wrong way,” she admitted, voice hoarse. 

“i know i was an idiot. but i couldn’t stand seeing you fall for people who didn’t even know half the things about you that i do.” she swallowed hard, finally meeting your gaze. 

“i didn’t know what else to do.”  

silence stretched between you. the weight of her words, the weight of everything she had done, settled over the space like a thick fog.  

you should have been angry. you should have called her out for her ridiculous behavior, told her she had no right to sabotage your relationships.  

instead, you found yourself staring at her, really seeing her for the first time.  

she was nervous. the german’s fingers twitched at her sides, her jaw was tight, her usually confident demeanor fractured by vulnerability.  

suddenly, the anger melted just a little.  

“you’re so stupid,” you muttered, shaking your head.  

sydney blinked. 

“what?”  

you exhaled, finally standing up, closing the space between you. 

“if you wanted me, you could have just said so.”  

sydney’s lips parted slightly, but no words came. 

you reached out, letting your fingers brush against hers, and she sucked in a quiet breath.  

“but if you ever pull that shit again,” you added, voice softer now, “we’re done before we even start.”  

her eyes searched yours. 

“does this mean—”  

“it means you’ve got a chance,” you said, squeezing her fingers. 

“but you better not be shy now, because i don’t do the whole ‘shy and stupid’ thing.”  

a slow, stunned smile spread across her lips. 

“okay,” she breathed. 

“okay.”

you glanced at her lips for just a second before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, lingering just enough to watch her breath hitch. 

"everyone's outside waiting for training to start," you murmured against her skin, pulling back slightly.  

sydney didn’t let you go far…her hand curled around your wrist, tugging you right back in as she captured your lips properly this time, deep and certain. when she finally pulled away, a smirk played on her face. 

“you missed the first time.”  

you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. 

“i didn’t miss. i was just teasing.”  

sydney rolled her eyes before gripping your waist, spinning you both around as she pulled you out of the locker room, her hand firm against your side, making sure you stayed close.

masterlist

[badasoneandonly]

𝘎𝘐𝘝𝘌 𝘔𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,550k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Your quiet neighbor, Hwang In-ho, secretly obsesses over you, eliminating anyone who gets too close. When you discover his dark secret, you try to escape, but he always finds you. Realizing there's no way out, you surrender to his twisted love, trapped forever.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: !𝘠𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘌¡ 𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘖! 𝘖𝘉𝘚𝘌𝘚𝘚𝘐𝘝𝘌¡ 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘌𝘙, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘋𝘠, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘈 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘚𝘛, 𝘗𝘚𝘠𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘐𝘊𝘈𝘓 𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘔𝘈, 𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘊 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 (𝘚𝘖𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍)

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘺 (𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘮) 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥... I would recommend listening to the music.

You were the kind of person who unknowingly captivated others, drawing them in with your warmth and kindness. Your smile was effortless, your laugh easy to find, and you didn't notice the effect it had on those around you. You were oblivious to the way people gravitated toward you, to the way they lingered longer than necessary in your presence. For you, it was simply normal. People came and went in your life- nothing too significant, nothing out of the ordinary. But for one person, everything about you was extraordinary.

Hwang In-ho, your quiet, reserved neighbor, had been watching you for a long time. You didn't realize it, but he had taken an interest in your life far beyond anything you could have imagined. He memorized your habits, knew when you came and went, what you liked to eat, and who you spent your time with. Most importantly, he made sure to remove anyone who posed even the slightest threat to your attention.

It started small, with little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. Casual conversations in the hallways, brief greetings when you passed each other in the building, nothing out of the ordinary. But over time, you began to notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, how his voice became slightly deeper whenever he spoke to you. And yet, you didn't think much of it. He was just a neighbor, someone you occasionally spoke with. You didn't know that behind that calm, collected exterior was a man consumed by obsession. It wasn't long before the disappearances started.

At first, you didn't think much of it. Daniel, the friendly coworker who had expressed interest in taking you out for coffee, had suddenly stopped coming to work. You asked your manager about him, but she simply shrugged and told you he'd moved. That was odd, but life went on.

Then it happened again. Jae, the guy who always helped you out at the gym, suddenly wasn't around anymore. You asked about him, but no one had seen him for days. No one could explain where he went. It was strange, but you figured he must've had his reasons.

And then, there was Jinwoo, the cute barista at the cafe you frequented. You'd barely noticed the way his eyes sparkled whenever you came in, or the way he nervously tried to start conversations with you. But when you showed up one evening for your usual order, he wasn't there. A new barista greeted you instead, but when you asked about Jinwoo, the response was the same-he'd quit. Moved away. The same strange feeling cropt Into your chest, but you ignored it. You never saw the pattern. The pieces never fit together.

In-ho, however, saw everything.

He always there, watching from the shadows, ensuring that no one got too close to you. When someone lingered too long or dared to approach you with intentions that weren't pure, he made sure they vanished. He wasn't cruel, no. He was simply protecting you, ensuring that nothing or no one would take you from him.

You never noticed. Not until it was too late.

One evening, you were sitting on your couch, enjoying a quiet night in. The city buzzed outside your window, but inside, all was peaceful. You were so absorbed in your thoughts when there came a knock at the door-sharp, deliberate.

You opened the door to find in-ho standing there, his usual stoic expression in place. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of unease, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. He was your neighbor, after all.

"In-ho? What's up?" you asked, your voice warm as you greeted him.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice steady, almost too calm.

"Oh, you didn't have to," you replied, still not picking up on the subtle tension in the air. You gestured for him to enter, stepping aside.

He held out a small, remarkable box. "Please. Just open it."

You gave him a puzzled glance but took the box anyway. "Alright, let's see what you've got." You sat down at your table and began to unde the ribbon.

But as soon the lid was lifted, the air seemed to freeze.

Inside the box was something you never could have imagined-a severed head, blood still fresh, Its eyes wide open in a frozen expression of terror. You recognized him immediately. It was Jinwoo, the barista.

Your body went cold, your mind struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. The box slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. You staggered backward, your heart pounding in your chest.

"In-ho..." you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, his expression still as composed as ever.

"I told you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice low, almost tender. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. I can't let anyone else get close to you."

Your mouth went dry, panic rising in your chest. "W-what did you do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"He was a threat," In-ho said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't let him take something that wasn't his to have."

You stumbled back, the room spinning around you. Your mind screamed for you to run, to get away from him. "This is insane! You can't do this, In-ho!"

His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "Insane?" he repeated. "What's insane is letting people like him get close to you. You're mine, Y/N. You always were."

The words hit you like a slap to the face, but you couldn't move. His eyes were dark, possessive, and you felt your body freeze as fear took over.

"I don't want to hurt you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "But I will do whatever it takes to protect you."

The knife in his hand glinted in the low light, and you realized just how much he meant what he said. "Put it down, In-ho," you whispered, trying to find some way to reason with him. "Please. We can talk about this. Just... just stop."

He looked at the blade in his hand and then back at you. His voice softened, but the edge of control never left. "I can't let you go, Y/N. You're mine. I'll always keep you safe. No one else can have you."

It wasn't until the last word left his lips that you realized how true it was. You weren't just a passing thought to him. You were an obsession. And nothing would ever change that.

You didn't remember how you managed to escape that night. All you could remember was running. Running until your lungs burned and your legs shook. The streets were dark, and you didn't know where you were going. All you knew was that you had to get away from him, from his suffocating presence.

But the thing about in-ho that he was always watching. He would always find you.

A few weeks passed in a blur. You changed your phone number, moved to a new apartment, and tried to put as much distance between yourself and the nightmare you'd narrowly escaped. But it was never enough. In-ho was always just one step behind, and one by one, people in your life began to disappear.

You couldn't outrun him. You couldn't hide. And so, eventually, when you saw him again, standing in front of you with that same calm expression, you knew there was no use fighting. You were trapped in his world now.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I told you, didn't I No one else can have you. Not while I'm alive."

And in that moment, you understood. You couldn't run anymore. There was escape.

"I'll stay with you," you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

In-ho's eyes softened, but there was something cold beneath the tenderness. "You're mine, Y/N. I'll keep you safe. Always."

And just like that, you belonged to him. Forever.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @thatbitchanna27 @endlessfl4mes @sunshiines-stuff @warlabels @icomehereforthefics @totowolfffcheco @m0rtifiedg0th @crystalizia @hwang-inhosb1tch

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵... 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥...

[cherry-coffees]

Marriage of Convenience!Caitlyn headcanons

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who does not want to get married - much less to someone she doesn’t know or have feelings for. so when Cassandra introduces you to her for the first time, all she knows is that you’re from some noble house in Noxus and she resents you. It’s not your fault, she knows, but it’s so much easier to have someone to blame for her unhappiness.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who watches Cassandra talk to your mother in silent rage, who watches you smile politely and just go along with this. this just makes her resent you even more because why are you so okay with it?

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who (very reluctantly) attends the ball in celebration of your engagement. no one know it’s arranged - everyone in Piltover thinks that a Piltovian and Noxian fell in love and oh how wonderful it is that these star-crossed lovers will bring peace and an alliance between the two regions! Caitlyn wants to scream the truth at them all until her lungs burn. but her mother would kill her, so she just stands there with a fake smile, blue gaze icy.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who eventually ducks out of the main ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, seeking some relief from the constant attention of the crowd, only to find that you’re already there. frustration runs through her veins, a scowl automatically gracing her sharp features because why can’t she just have a single moment alone? but her expression morphs into one of surprise when she takes in your posture: leaning against the balcony railing in your gown, your head low and your body almost crumpled — defeated.

Caitlyn can’t help but hesitate, straightening out her Commander uniform she had insisted upon wearing. She doesn’t know whether to intrude or leave you be. But, she supposes, you will be married soon. 

So she breaks the silence, stepping forward to lean on the railing beside you. “Why aren’t you in the ballroom?”

“Why aren’t you?” You counter, not bothering to meet her eyes. You stare ahead, looking out at all of Piltover all lit up at night. 

Caitlyn can’t stop the scoff that escapes her. “Too much attention for something I don’t want.”

You bob your head once, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Makes two of us.”

“Are you kidding?” Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing and turning her body to fully face you. “You seem to be quite content going along with everything your parents want.”

“Yeah, well,” you exhale, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold night air. Caitlyn notices this, gaze darting to the gooseflesh that prickles on your bare arms. “There’s nothing either of us can do about it. It’s better to go along and make the best of it. If I’m going to be married to you, I don’t want to hate each other.”

Caitlyn blinks, slightly taken aback. “I-“ she pauses, considering your words. “I don’t hate you.”

“Seems like it.”

“I don't,” she insists, and you finally turn your head so your eyes lock with hers. “Look-“ Caitlyn holds your gaze, a twinge of respect stirring within her. “If my parents had to marry me off to someone, I’m glad it’s you. I know we just met, but you’re very respectful, and you seem kind. I like that.” She hesitates again, eyes flicking down over your body for a split-second. “And you’re undeniably pretty.”

“Uh- thank you." You blink, wide-eyed at the unexpected compliment, a pink hue dusting your cheeks. You can't deny that being called pretty in that posh accent of hers makes you a little flustered. But you push past it, shaking your head to clear your mind and continuing. "You’re right: we don’t know each other. But since we’re getting married, I’d like to, if you’ll allow it.”

And for the first time since Cassandra broke the news to her about this marriage, Caitlyn lets herself give you a half-smile. “Yeah,” she nods, a hint of interest in her eyes. “I’d like that.”

I have loose plans to write a full fic of this so!!! Stay tuned and lmk if you have any ideas/things you'd like to see with this <333

Reminder that my asks are open!

[brawberryz]

the present does not exist, time is an illusion, buy gold!

Batfam × neglected Bill Cipher! Reader

《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Imagine that you were neglected throughout your life, it was really something that you cared very little about

The people who knew you told you that you were a genius, that with your intelligence you could change the world, everyone noticed your talents except your family

While you believed you began to be interested in creatures that for some were not real or just myths, you faced many creatures that almost killed you, but no one noticed when you mysteriously disappeared to go to the Gotham forest to see those fantastic creatures

Over time you wrote a diary where you noted all the anomalies of Gotham, some more dangerous than others

Everything was going well until you discovered HIM, Bill Cipher the God of Chaos

You met him while visiting an abandoned library, I found that strange book where he recounted his powers, while you were reading you saw that on the last pages it was written in blood letters

"DO NOT SUMMON"

For many that would have been a great warning but for It was a sign for you, you started to get more interested in this guy called Bill

You started to investigate and look for something that would tell you more about this strange but interesting being

After months of research and failed invocations you were finally able to meet him as a person

"Well, well, well, uhh it's been a while since I was summoned"

Bill said without realizing that you were about to faint, it worked...IT WORKED!

After hard months you were able to summon him, it felt like you had won some important prize

"Ahem, uh...hello, Bill?"

You hesitated a little as you spoke, you read that this entity was very dangerous and could easily end entire universes if it so desired

"Oh, hello strange human! Then with whom do I have the honor?"

Bill said as he floated around you

"I'm (name)...(name) Wayne"

You couldn't believe it was really happening, those days without sleep and researching without stopping were worth it

You had so many questions to ask this Bill, it wasn't every day you could summon an all-powerful god

"Nice name, strange human"

Bill spoke with a mocking tone as he looked at you with his one eye, from the first time he saw you he knew you had something special, your intelligence was unmatched by anyone, you reminded him of Stanford, although he could say that you are much smarter than Stan

This was going to be fun, maybe you're the piece he was missing to be able to free his dimension again

And luckily for him, no one was going to stop it this time

From that moment on, your strange friendship with Bill began

You let him use your body and control you, in exchange he showed you the secrets of the universe and gave you information that no one had ever heard before

But not everything was perfect, every time Bill used your body he ended up doing stupid things, like jumping off the damn stairs and hitting a policeman

Among other crimes that for some strange reason no one in your family found out about

He also did other stupid things like getting a tattoo on your ribs that you will regret for the rest of your life

After a while your bond began to grow stronger, or so you thought

How stupid you were to trust someone like him

"We were supposed to be friends, you lied to me!"

Your soul floated around Bill, you thought that when Bill asked to borrow your body it was going to be like every time but this time he refused to change bodies

"Friends? I don't have friends, you were just one of my pawns for my plan, and now that I have everything right where I want it I don't need you anymore"

Bill said mocking how innocent and foolish you were to believe that they were friends, something that he was going to thank you for was having a good body, you had resistance and good mobility that was going to be very helpful

"Well I have to go, dinner is getting cold"

He said indifferently as he approached the door, before you could stop him or do anything the door slammed shut in front of your face

For the first time in your life you were afraid, afraid of what Bill could do now that his plan was almost complete, you felt like a fool for believing him

_

Bruce noticed how you were weirder than usual, since you entered the kitchen and you sat down you knew something was wrong and it wasn't good

"(Name)...is something wrong?"

Bruce said as he stopped eating and looked at his daughter seriously

"Of course I am dad! Why would something be wrong?"

The girl said as she tilted her head and gave him that strange smile, something was wrong...

(Name) would never answer like that or smile at him like that, her usual response would have been to shrug and continue eating but now there was something strange about her, as if she wasn't her

"Well... you look weirder than usual, I just want you to feel okay"

The other family members suddenly looked at you and Bruce, they looked at each other, it seemed that everyone agreed that you were acting weird

"Nothing's wrong with me, I'm just happy... very happy"

(Name) said before abruptly getting up from the table with her empty plate in hand

"Dinner was good, see you later family!"

The girl said as she walked out of the kitchen waving her hand happily

In the minds of everyone sitting at the table there was only one mutual thought

Something was very wrong with you, and whatever it was they were going to find out

No matter what it took

Poor idiots, if they knew that soon everything was considered important like their universe is about to disappear forever

Everything was happening the way Bill wanted, now no one was going to stop him because there was no Stanford or the Pines family to stop him again

It seems Bill Cipher got his way again

I love writing about my hyperfixations and combining them and making a weird AU

I'll just leave this shit undone and go to sleep, byee