#to SCRATCHING YOU BITING YOU HISSING HISSING HISSING almost immediately.

[esleep]

the whole "cats choose their owners" thing is really funny to me because ivy very much did NOT choose me. she was a slightly dim-witted and very rambunctious feral kitten, and that combination led to her getting herself stuck inside an old chipmunk nest halfway down the steep bank of the creek by my parents' house. from there she proceeded to scream her head off until both my mom and i came out to see what on earth was making all that racket, then we excavated her out of that hole like a sad little potato. she was grateful for the rescue, but definitely NOT grateful for the ensuing flea baths and conversion to indoor cat life at my apartment, which she reminds me of regularly. ivy i'm sorry for saving you from an early death due to predation/disease/cars, but can you stop biting me every day of my life please

[anundyingfidelity]

ESCAPADE — Logan Howlett

Summary: For a weekend, you and Logan decide to travel away from the school. Needless to say, you can't keep your hands off each other.

Pairing: Established Logan x female mutant reader. Also teacher!reader at Xavier's school. Set after DoFP ending where everyone is alive because I say so, but can be read however you want lol.

Warnings: pure smut, unprotected p in v, sex at a motel, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, all the smutty stuff.

Notes: main language is not English, but hope you enjoy this filthy drabble. I need him to rail me so bad, bye.

GEN MASTERLIST!

God, he missed this so fucking much.

Logan groans, hands grabbing tightly your hips as you fuck yourself on top of him. Your ass against his skin every time you lower down to impale on his cock, over and over.

The sight is just completely perfect, holding yourself against his abdomen, back against his chest as he rests by the head of the bed.

And shit, he loves to hear you so damn much. Hear you whimper, moan, and sigh with every thrust he gives up to meet your flesh. He even would love to see your tits bouncing in front of him...

“Fuck, yes!”

That sweet out-loud moan leaving your lips causes him to pick up the pace. Your praise never fails to make him go feral, going rough and faster than before.

“Shit, right there- fuck! Feels so good!” Your pussy walls welcoming his cock, glistening with your arousal every time he almost pulled completely outside your hole.

It was your second day in that same motel room, fucking like animals. This wasn’t the plan at all when you originally left the mansion. Both of you just needed to be away at least for a couple of days to have time for yourselves, far from everything and everyone. You wanted to have an actual trip with nice dates, good food, and see the city, but the short time you two had was enough to just have you there on the bed, round after round. He missed your sweet sounds, that dirty side of you when no one was around. How you’d let him rail you as he pleased.

This is all he wanted. It is all he needs right now. You, on top of him, spread and ready for his cock to fuck your guts all day and night.

“Shit, you’re right there already again?” he grunts, feeling himself squeezed by your cunt.

He knows you’re close. And you just came again a couple of moments ago. Neither of you is counting how many times you already came as he fucked you. You whimper again, biting your lip and scratching his skin with your nails.

“Yeah, you there again,” he chuckles with that raspy voice. Immediately, his hands take you by the back of your knees, accomodating you on his lap. You yelp and stop for a second, letting him guide you again. Logan doesn’t give you a moment to get adjusted to new angle, instead thrusting up and fucking you so good that he knows the whole place is now aware of what is happening inside your room.

“I love how you feel around me,” he bites the shell of your ear as you arch your back, head on his shoulder, feeling a sweet release hitting you. “So fucking warm and wet, always ready for me…”

His voice does things on you and finally, your legs start shaking, pussy throbbing around his still hard cock.

“Shit-shit-oh!”

You try to close your thighs together but he does such a great job on keeping you spread for him, your hands are on his wrists trying to keep him away, but as much as you are a mutant yourself, Logan is too fucking strong even for you. You feel that familiar sting on your belly, crying out loud due to the overstimulation. The sensation is everywhere, taking upon your senses.

“Fucking come around me, baby,” Logan hisses, hips stuttering before finally spilling inside you with a low grunt, filling you up to the brim. His thrusts slow down, just enough to make sure you take his hot seed inside your cunt.

And then, in the aftermath, he leans against your cheek, placing soft kisses and mumbling against your ear as you take it all.“Yeah, that’s it… Such a good girl…”

“That was so good,” you mumble, angling your face so you finally kiss him, slow and wet, until he softens inside you. The feeling of his beard burns your skin deliciously every time you kiss. “Tired already?” you tease with a smirk once your lips are apart.

But he is thrusting into you softly again. You moan but smile back at him.

“Y’know I never grow tired of you, I might have to show you again, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, teasingly.

“With pleasure.”

He grunts in response. If only you had more time...

[22ayla21]

Gentle Wind

Ifa's young patients are afraid of treatment, but his girlfriend comes to the rescue, possessing a special gift for finding common ground with both children and animals.

From the Author: it may not look like canon, since I just started playing the event

The day turned out to be hectic. The Flower-Feather Clan veterinary tent was packed to the brim: children with scratches and abrasions sat on low wooden benches, and saurians – nimble little creatures that also needed help – restlessly shuffled at the entrance.

Ifa, tired and rubbing his nose bridge, once again faced the problem that haunted him almost every day: both children and saurians were deathly afraid of treatment. As soon as he reached for a child with bandages or, Archons forbid, a syringe, his patients immediately began to squirm, hiss, and try to slip away.

"I just want to help…" he muttered, trying to hold onto a saurian with a damaged paw. "Don't bite the bandage, it's not edible…"

But before the panic among the little patients reached its peak, she appeared in the tent – his girlfriend. Her voice sounded soft and soothing, and warm care splashed in her eyes.

"Well, little rebels, are you afraid of treatment?" She squatted down in front of the children, smiling at them so tenderly that even the most stubborn tomboy couldn't resist. "And you know what? Treatment is not scary at all. Let's imagine we're brave heroes, and these bandages are magic ribbons that make us invincible!"

She deftly bandaged a scratch on one of the girls, telling her a story about a brave warrior who was also afraid of wounds but learned to cope with them. The girl listened with her mouth open and didn't even notice her arm was already bandaged.

And with the saurians, it turned out even easier. They literally clung to the girl, rubbed against her palms, and happily tapped their tails on the ground. One little creature with a bitten paw needed wound treatment, and it squirmed when Ifa tried to hold it. But as soon as the girl took the creature in her arms and gently whispered something in its ear, it immediately calmed down and allowed itself to be bandaged.

"How do you do that?" Ifa muttered, watching what was happening with a slight smirk.

"I just have a talent," she winked and stroked the saurian's head.

So, under her watchful eye, the treatment went without tantrums and tears. Ifa sighed with relief, watching the children happily run out of the tent and the saurians peacefully fall asleep nearby.

"You know, I have to admit, I wouldn't have managed without you," he came closer and put his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe you'll drop by more often? As an assistant?"

She laughed, leaned over, and pecked him on the cheek, replying:

"Or maybe I'll just be around?"

Ifa chuckled, watching the zavrians continue to rub against her legs, and the children follow her with admiring glances. He leaned closer and, lowering his voice, quietly said:

"You know… you'd make a wonderful mother."

Her cheeks instantly turned pink, and she recoiled, lightly hitting him on the shoulder.

"Ifa!" she whispered with slight indignation, but a confused amusement flickered in her eyes.

"What? I'm just stating a fact," he snorted, pleased with her reaction. "Children are crazy about you. Saurians too. I should probably be afraid that one day they'll take you away forever."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn't leave her face, and Ifa quietly laughed, enjoying the moment.

[littlemelaninfics]

Airline Miles || Peter Parker Smut

AN: this is my first time writing for Peter Parker. This is purely fiction

Synopsis: You and Peter make the most of Tony’s private jet

I slam my hand against the airplane bathroom mirror, holding back whimpers and moans as Peter drives into me from behind. My eyes are rolling back as his fingers find their way into my mouth and down my throat. I gag at the intrusion and Peter’s head picks up from looking at himself pummeling inside of you at a pace that wasn’t fast enough to create loud sounds. “Be quiet,” he hisses lowly, using his other hand to wrap around my throat.

You let out a muffled apology, tears beginning to stream down your eyes as he finds a deeper angle. “What was that?” he whispers, leaning down to nibble at your ear lobe. He takes his hands away from your mouth and neck, letting them grab at your hips like before.

“I’m—fuck!” I yelp breathlessly as he sharply slams into me, slowing down his space.

“Use your words, princess,” he murmurs, his fingers digging into my skin that would for sure leave bruises. 

“I’m cumming,” I whimper quietly, looking back at him as he pulled my hair towards him.

“I know. I can fucking feel it. Fuck,” he mutters and presses his lips against mine, his pace quickening almost immediately. I can’t help but moan louder into his mouth. He lets go of my hair, grasping at my jaw harshly. “You need to keep it down,” he mutters, directing my attention back to the mirror. 

What a sight it is. His hand cupping my jaw almost possessively, his dick continuously ramming into my soaking pussy at a rough pace, hair tousled and ruined.

My stomach twisted with pleasure as he lets go of my face and grabs the back of my neck to bend me completely over. I have a death grip on the counter and bite my lip harshly as his hips still while he buries his cock snug into me. 

“Ohhh my god,” I moan as my eyes roll once more.

I scratch at the surface as a tingly sensation washes all over me and his tip hits my womb. I feel nothing but pure bliss as he fucks me through my orgasm. Watching as I cream on his dick, Peter pulls me back into his hips roughly while grinding them every which way. My back arches and my ass presses up against his hips, furthering his dick inside my cunt. There’s a dent in his forehead and the grunts he’s letting out almost send me into another orgasm. I look at him in the mirror and beg him to cum for me,

“Baby, please. I want to feel your cum inside me. I wanna grind down on the seat when I feel it start to leak out.”

“Fuck, baby. Keep going.”

“You’re fucking me like the slut I am. So fucking deep. Mmmm.” My bottom lip is tucked between my teeth as I enjoy the rough rocking. I clench around him and he grabs the back of my neck, my face hitting the counter once more.

He fucks me until he’s emptied everything he had into what’s his. He goes and stays balls deep until he starts to soften. When he pulls out, a little cum follows and he swipes it with his finger, pushing it back in. I keep myself on the counter until I have the energy to move and pull up my sweats. Once dressed, Peter places a passionate kiss to my lips before calling me “his good girl”. He peeks his head out to see what he can and gives me the signal when the coast is clear.

We get back to our seats just in time as Sam gets up to stretch his legs and comes to our row,

“We almost there?”

I tap my little tv screen and view the map,

“About 6 more hours.” He just rolls his eyes and heads to the bathroom. Peter and I get ourselves back situated when Sam quickly exits the lavatory,

“Yo. Use the other one. It smells like straight fucking in there,” he says as he passes us.

Peter and I look at each other before letting out childlike giggles. We pick a movie and enjoy the rest of the flight.

[missmeinyourbones]

we NEED "i'm just too soft for all of it." IWHT MEGUMI PLS IM BEGGING

I'M JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF IT (m. fushiguro)

a/n: me making up medical shit LMFAO, repressed and emotionally constipated megumi, deadbeat dad t*ji, slight mentions and undertones of toxic masculinity

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Since he was four years old and still growing into his long-sleeved sweaters, Megumi has learned to heal his own wounds or almost die trying.

A routine that he now knows like the back of his hand, he'd returned from his latest mission with weeping cuts and exhaustion clear beneath his eyes, making a point to stop at the medical closet before returning to his dorm. With Shoko's workday over, he makes a mental note to visit her first thing in the morning when he wakes. 

He can make it through the night, he always does. Because Megumi is a thinker. He plans until he can't and covers all bases for when they're stolen. He gets by. 

What he didn't take into account was potentially running into you, of all people. Dormitory halls barren and almost eerie, he nearly curses himself for brushing shoulders as you turn the corner on the way back to your own room. 

Your timing has always been wrong, or maybe it's right and Megumi can't differentiate between the two. 

And now he's here, on the creaky wooden floor of the medicinal closet, with you kneeling beside him and prodding at his injuries with tender wrists. 

Never one to be good with idle hands, Megumi fidgets and tries to brush at the dried blood on his shoulder. The action has both of you hissing—him in a jolt of pain and you in reaction to his hurt. 

"Don't touch it," your voice falters to be stern, still coming out so gently. Megumi thinks about the irony of that—of how you can't even be sharp if you tried. You're too gentle, too soft to even sound hard momentarily. 

Humiliated at the mere idea of doing nothing, at needing help, he shakily exhales and returns his attention to the floor. 

When the damp cotton pad in your hand touches a bit too deep in one of his cuts, Megumi does his best to save face but can't help the grunt of breath that gets sucked into his lungs. 

Immediately, he feels you retract from his skin and coo your apologies. Carefully returning your attention to the burning wound, you do your best to soothe him. 

"Sorry, it's deeper than it looks. Almost over."

Megumi's response is quick and curt, like a cut of its own, "It's fine."

You nod hesitantly before grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and another clean cotton round. The cleaning of his wounds continues in silence, though your thoughts are louder than anything. 

His injuries vary in size. Some deeper, fresher, than others. Some looking like one-hit victims and others a repeated attack. You do your best to take note of where he's sensitive, where he's hurting the most. 

When you reach a certain scratch on his bicep, you're able to catch a glimpse of his face. Sweat beading on his forehead and damp hair sticking to his skin, Megumi bites the collar of his uniform to suppress any kind of noise (weakness) from you. 

When he slips up and lets out a guttural muffled groan, you think you might audibly whimper yourself. 

"You can yell if you want to," you try to help him in any way you can, "or squeeze my hand or—"

"I'm fine," Megumi attempts to bark again, but this time is different. It's not cold or sharp like it was last time. You can hear how it shakes against the echos of the closet, how it sounds like the burn of tears building in a sore throat.

And between the pain everywhere he still has feeling and the intimacy of you carefully caressing him, Megumi finds himself tearing up. 

"Hey," he feels you whisper, attempting to caress his jaw and prompt him to look at you, "hey, you okay?"

He can't find it in himself to answer nor lift his head, so he sniffles like a kicked child and crinkles his nose in disgust at his own pathetic actions.

Megumi is tough, one of the toughest people you know. You've seen him more beat up than this and barely break a sweat. Your head feels light at the realization that something's wrong. He shouldn't be in this much pain from the familiar burning of antiseptic he's felt a dozen times over. Maybe it's from a cursed weapon, or a technique where—

A stifled sob cuts you off.  

Like a glass cracking beneath pressure, you feel something inside you break. No longer caring about cleaning his cuts or avoiding sensitive areas, you can't stop yourself from wrapping around his hunched frame. 

Megumi's breath hitches as you hold him, feels your hair tickling his neck when you rub his back and whisper.

"I'm sorry, I know, but you're doing so good, okay? And I'm almost done—"

"Don't do that," he bites. 

Assuming he's referring to prodding at a specific wound, you flinch and loosen your grip, "Do what?"

"Talk to me like that," he snarls with a crack, "in that—voice."

He feels your head remove its weight from his shoulder slowly, "Why?"

"Because I can't—" Megumi's voice almost breaks before he whines, gritting his teeth when he whimpers, "I can't handle it."

And just like that, Megumi is four years old again. He's scraping his knee on the concrete of his front lawn, and a blurry father-shaped figure with dark hair and legs far too tall tells him to be a man. Not being old enough to use the stove without supervision, but still knowing enough to save his cries for his pillow when Tsumiki is snoring and can't overthink his tears. He thinks of Gojo—of the first time he broke down in front of him and was met with whispers of good intent and love that registered in his brain as pity. Humiliation.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels your fingertips on his wet cheeks, replacing the stinging of antiseptic with a fluttering and velvety touch. 

Between sniffled strings of apologies and a few hiccups of words that don't quite make sense, you piece together that Megumi isn't crying because he's in pain. He's crying because he can, because you're helping him in a way he never asked for, let alone known. 

"I've never...been allowed to, like, feel—"

"Hey," you're soft again, as if you ever weren't. "I know," fingers delicately brush his sticky eyelashes when you remind him, "but you are now."

"Are what?"

"Allowed," you whisper against his cheek, "to feel however you want when you're around me."

And Megumi doesn't know how you do it. How you remain a light in a world that's constantly doing all it can to kick you while you're down. Maybe you're just naive, so stupidly optimistic that it'll eventually be your own demise. Maybe.

But, Megumi can't find himself to care, because he knows that for as long as he's on this earth, he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to that light of yours. 

Back to reality and rubbing at his stinging eyes, Megumi softly scoffs. "Y'know, sometimes you look at me with those stupid eyes and I don't know what happens, but I almost feel sick."

Your laughter tastes like water, "I know what you mean. But in a good way though, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, "in a good way."

When Megumi's back finally hits his mattress at an ungodly hour of the morning—something he's been dreaming of since he'd left it hours ago—he's sickeningly sore and his eyes burn with hypersensitivity. He lets himself close his eyes thinking of your hands, the ones that soaked his now scabbing wounds and wiped his watery eyes. 

Megumi plans, sure, but he never could have prepared for you. 

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan

✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^  🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”

Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought. 

“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.

“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”

“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips. 

“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.” 

A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face. 

You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity. 

You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself. 

With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return. 

His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.

Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?

“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.

Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time. 

“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”

“No.” 

Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.

“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”

You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now. 

“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.

“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck. 

“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”

You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”

At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you. 

“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?” 

“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm. 

“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again. 

“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”

You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all. 

He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this. 

So much for letting someone in.

So much for not wanting to be alone. 

Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it. 

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[deconstructthesoup]

I've been thinking a little bit about how the Cat King expresses his affection, and specifically, how the fandom interprets it.

There's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "oh my god, he's such a simp, Edwin really has this sexy catboy wrapped around his little finger," and there's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "yowza, learn to take a hint, he's not interested in you and your fuckboy fur coat," which, y'know, are both valid. I love the Cat King, but he's clearly not a fan of boundaries---outside of his own, of course.

Which... is the point, isn't it? Because here's the thing---we all like to analyze the Cat King as if he's human, but... he's not.

He's a cat. And that's how cats are.

Let's look back at his first interaction with Edwin. Our sassy Edwardian boy has used magic on one of his cats, and he's pissed, because cats are protective over what they consider "theirs---" and seeing as he's the Cat King, all of the cats in Port Townsend are his. He's bitchy and rude, cutting Edwin off when he tries to explain himself, and doesn't exactly seem like he's a merciful guy.

Then comes the moment where he whisks Edwin away, and he gets a closer look. The Cat King realizes that he's handsome, he's clearly queer, and that there is something fascinating about him. So he gets closer, he gets intimate, and it's working. Even in the throes of internalized homophobia, Edwin's getting into it, and... the Cat King self-sabotages, slapping a binding spell onto him.

A cat hisses at you when you attempt to reach out your hand and reason with it. It changes its mind, and it comes up to you, purring. And just when you're about to scratch it behind its ears, it freaks out, scratching you on the hand.

Sure, right after that, the Cat King lays out the terms---the binding spell (which, honestly, is actually a pretty fitting punishment given that Edwin used a binding spell on that cat) can be taken off, "and I'm sure we can work something out." That's a line that's probably worked before, and that's a line that probably could've worked, but the damage is done. So the Cat King gets irritated, sneering at Edwin's "old-fashioned sensibilities," and gives him your classic trickster seems-easy-but-is-a-lot-harder-than-it-looks deal. And we don't see him again for a couple episodes... at least, not until Edwin gets that little cat-scratch at the lighthouse.

When a cat scratches your hand, you give it a wide berth. Even if it immediately changes its mind and meows for attention, you don't trust it anymore. So it gets pissy, getting more and more annoyed the more you ignore it, until it gives up and bites you when you won't give it pets.

Now, the Cat King has realized that Edwin's getting close. He's counted almost all the cats, and it won't be long before he completes the task and books it out of town. So, the Cat King starts flirting even more, even going so far as to mimic Monty and Charles if that's what it'll take. When that fails, and when getting Edwin to open up fails, the Cat King lets out a nervous little laugh and tells Edwin that he's way off, when in fact he couldn't be closer.

Once a cat realizes that it likes you, it becomes incredibly needy. It trots along after you, it begs for attention and love, it sits on your laptop and jumps up on the kitchen counter and will attempt to insert itself into any and all activities you might be doing. And while that may be the cat's way of expressing love, there's no denying that it is ignoring all of your personal boundaries and generally getting in the way of you doing anything---other than, of course, paying attention to it.

And then comes the moment in the forest. The Cat King shows up with a fancy chandelier to blow Monty's cover---why now? Because Monty isn't just a romantic threat, he's trying to do something that'll take away Edwin for good. Once the cover's blown, and once Monty storms off, the Cat King uses this as an opportunity---I just saved his life, maybe he'll notice me now---and Edwin snaps, dropping one of the best lines in the whole series.

This is the first time, mind you, that Edwin has really pushed back. He's been resistant before, sure, but he's never said or done anything that indicates that he really wanted this dance to end. And I don't even think the Cat King realized that he was crossing a line, had been crossing a line since he slapped that bracelet on. But when Edwin says that he's not the Cat King's toy to yank around, that he's nothing more than an inconvenience, that's a big old wake-up call for our boy---and of course, he takes it horribly, snarling after Edwin that he'll be stuck in this town if he walks away, that he'll stop playing nice, just fucking NOTICE me already why don't you?

There always comes a time when you're fed up with how invasive your cat's being. Maybe you've just had a bad day, maybe it's genuinely messing up something important that you're doing, but you break out the spray bottle. And how does it respond? With a hiss, with a scamper away, and with a baleful glare over its shoulder. It knows it's done something wrong, but it doesn't fully understand, and it's mad at you.

Afterwards, Edwin gets dragged into hell, and that breaks the charm on the bracelet. And the Cat King's left to think.

There's some conflicting emotions there, of course. He's moodily playing with the bracelet when Esther shows up, showing that he probably does care, but there's still something to be said about how he immediately calls Edwin a "tease" and hates himself for being willing to wait for him if and when he ever returns from Hell (which is very noble of you, Thomas, totally way more of a meaningful gesture than actually going down there to get him back---which, as a self-described eternal being, would probably be easier for you to do than Charles. Just sayin'). But as much as I love to clown on that, the Cat King does die in that scene, and it's only after that that he spills to Esther.

This, I think, is where the Cat King stops acting like a cat, and starts acting human. Because he doesn't go and see Edwin when he gets back---he's realized that he kind of was in the wrong, and he's giving him space. And I'm sure it can't have been fun knowing that Edwin and Charles only got kidnapped by Esther because of information that he let slip.

But when the boys and Crystal (and maybe Jenny) are about to leave, the Cat King visits Edwin to pay his respects to Niko. He gives Edwin a lily, which several people have pointed out is fatal to cats. He's still flirty, sure, but he's more understated now. No more tricks, no more spells. Just him. And that's the version of him that gets that little cheek kiss goodbye.

Because even cats can learn that there's a better way to love.

[plussizeficchick]

Okay so I think as an alpha, it’s hard to get Tamaki angry, but once he does, he goes feral.

Like normally, he has exceptional control over his instincts. He’s not as territorial as others, but there is one thing that can send him into a frenzy.

And that was someone threatening his claim.

You almost felt bad for the poor excuse of an alpha that tried his luck with you. But you’d warned him. You’d been polite, informing him you weren’t interested and were already claimed, but he insisted, was certain he could be a better alpha than the one that would dare let you out of his sight.

You figured since he wasn’t taking a hint that your best bet would be to be direct, harsh even, but it seemed bruising his ego only seemed to stoke his flame.

He didn’t seem to notice your scent changing, the smell of frankincense overpowering your usual scent of lilies and patchouli. And he definitely didn’t notice your alpha stalking over to you guys, too focused on trying to get you home with him.

The alpha doesn’t realize what’s happened until he feels the warm gush of blood running from his nose and the harsh pavement under the palm of his hands. He reaches up to assess the damage before letting out a hiss at the searing pain that shoots to his face.

Yep, definitely broken.

He grits his teeth and looks up at the fucker that dared to hit him, but isn’t prepared to come face to face with Pro Hero Suneater.

“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing to my mate?” Tamaki grits out, eyes lit with hatred for the alpha in front of him. Normally, he’s a talker. He hates when situations escalate to violence, but this guy knew what he was doing, your claiming mark clear as day.

“Hey man, I-I didn’t know-” He tries to stammer but Tamaki is quick to shut that down. “But you did, I heard her say it. Multiple times.” He blankly stares at the guy before hauling him up by his collar. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave with the shred of dignity you have left, and if I find that you’re harassing omegas again, you’re going to be left with more than a fucked face. Do I make myself clear?” The man’s head nearly flies off the way he nods in affirmation and Tamaki drops him where he stands.

He’s immediately on you, checking you to ensure there’s not a scratch on you before he guides you out of the park.

— —

You’re aware of how Tamaki gets after a huge display of dominance. He’s still pumped up on adrenaline and needs a way to release the frustration before becoming a recluse.

It's one of the rare times in which he loses complete composure.

As soon as you’re both through the threshold he’s hoisting you up, your thick thighs wrapping around his waist to pull him further into you.

He’s mouthing at your neck, tongue laving over your claiming mark before he kisses his way to your lips, licking into your mouth. You moan against him, his clothed cock pressing against your cunt through your panties. You feel slick pool between your legs, soaking the fabric. “Please, Tama.” You whine. He offers you a bit of relief when he reaches a hand down and rips your underwear off. “Don’t worry bunny, I’ve got you.” He murmurs into your mouth. He can hardly wait, opting to just haphazardly pull down his sweats and boxers. He jerks himself off really quick, moaning at the feeling before pushing into you.

You both groan at the feeling, Tamaki trying to quell his whimpers by gnawing at your claiming mark. You whimper as he bites the sensitive skin, cunt clenching around him.

You jerk in his arms, your orgasm already fast approaching even though it feels he’s just getting started. “Fuck, bunny. So wet f’me. Am I making you feel good?” He murmurs, big indigo eyes looking up at you. Even through spats of dominance, glimpses of your Tamaki shine through. You nod at his words, tears beginning to build in your lash line, “Yeah, gonna cum f’ you, Tama. Gonna-” The words escape you as your orgasm washes over you, mouth open in a silent scream. He works you through it, reaching a hand down to rub your clit and nibbling around your claiming mark. He slowly pulls out, easing you down as you relax. He pulls his hand from you before putting his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of your combined flavor.

“You always taste so good for me, bunny.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You look up at him with a dopey smile before you feel what seems like suction cups on your thighs. You look to see Tamaki’s fingers have turned into tentacles before looking back at him.

“Mind if I have more?”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[roosterforme]

I hope this is a good space for horny thots cause holy hell. I’m ovulating so I’m FERAL rn..I need either Jake or Bradley or Bob or WHOEVER..I just need to bite his shoulder and leave teeth marks…nails scraping down his back..covering them in hickeys..ruining government property..cause..fuck ..yeah 💕😇

Nonny, this is ALWAYS a safe space for horny thoughts....

"Fuck," Jake panted, coming for the second time this morning as you arched your back off the bed and whined his name. Your fingernails were pressed into the side of his neck, the little bit of pain almost too pleasurable at this point as he quickly withdrew from your delicious body. "Baby, I need to leave."

Your pouty lips were too much right now. You'd spent the weekend with them gliding along his cock and sucking on his neck. You sounded like a spoiled brat as you said, "But, Jake, I wanted to go for three."

Well damn, now he did too. But he really just couldn't. "Give me a raincheck? Please, Baby? I can't be late for work."

You rolled onto your side as you said, "I almost kind of hate that you're technically military property."

"Fuck Uncle Sam," Jake grunted as he pulled on some underwear and his uniform pants without even cleaning off his cock. 

Your soft giggle was followed by a whispered, "Fuck Uncle Sam."

By the time he finally made it to base, he had absolutely no time to spare. He ducked into classroom number four just as Maverick called everyone to attention, and Jake stopped to stand next to Phoenix. But as soon as Maverick came closer and really looked at him, he knew he was in trouble. 

"Hangman," his superior office said with a bit of a humorous lilt to his voice.

"Sir?"

"Those are some... interesting bruises on your neck."

Jake could feel his cheeks heating up as everyone else turned to look at him as well. He must have been wrong in his assumption that his collar covered all of the hickeys, love bites and scratches.

"And, you're out of dress code, Lieutenant."

Jake looked down at himself in horror as he realized he'd buttoned his shirt incorrectly. He wanted to disappear. Or rather, he wanted to go back to bed and punish you a little bit for turning him into such a pussy drunk mess.

"Holy shit," Phoenix whispered as Maverick walked back to the podium. "Who did you spend the weekend with?"

"That's none of your business," he hissed immediately.

Maverick cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah, well it's about to be everyone's business when they see you running five miles around base and then doing two hundred pushups," he said loudly. "You were thirty seconds late and you look like hell. Get a move on, Hangman."

He thought about how tight he was going to tie you up while he was running.

[honeybunnyale]

Dream Walking l M.K.

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli

w.c. : 4.1k

t.w. : Dark Fic, Smut (Dub-Con due to reader believing it was all a dream), angst, jealousy between the moon boys

a/n : Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! Also, this was inspired by the song Dream by the Pied Pipers.

Summary: Therapy and the consequences of your sleeping pills.  He couldn’t be real; it was just your brain confusing dreams with reality.

“Can you tell me what happens in your dreams?”

You play with your fingers, staring into the floor, its pattern strange circles. You’ve never seen a carpet like it, you think it was meant to be soothing, almost like the paintings she has of waves and the lakes on her walls. Unlike the harsh edges and corners of squares or rectangles, perhaps? You felt anything but soothed- 

She clears her throat. You glance up and you feel your stomach turn, your cheeks fill with heat.

“Uh- I just. I get ready for bed, and then it comes in through the window.”

“Which window?” she asks calmly, almost as if she were bored. 

“The one in my bedroom.”

She nods at you to continue. You hesitate and of course she notices.

“You can continue.”

You inhale sharply, your legs bounce in anxiety.

“He- “

“He?”

“Yes, it’s a he. Sorry.”

She nods as if she understood. She looks down and writes something on her pad. You pretend that you didn’t notice the irritating scratches against the paper.

“Uhm. He… stays at my apartment for a while.”

“Doing what?”

You look up at her and shake your head lightly. Heat rises to your cheeks ten times hotter.

“… nothing.”

She sighs, closing her notepad and uncrossing her legs. She puts her elbows on her knees and leans closer to you.

“I won’t be able to help you if you're not completely honest with me?” she scolds lightly. She sounds like a mother, a threat behind her soft words.

You look away from her eyes and focus on her shoulder.

“I know.”

“Good.”  Her lips purse into a small smile. Her eyes flicker down.

She checks her watch and sighs. She stands.

“Looks like our time is up.”

You stand immediately and move to the door. She stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“I do hope that you try to open up more.” She pauses. “Next time.” Of course, not for free.

You nod.

“See you next time.”

…

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. His tongue slithers inside of your mouth and he tastes the sweetness of the honey you put in excess of in your tea and the bitterness of the leaves.

He stumbles around your apartment, looking for your bedroom all the while groping you through your clothes. You moan into his mouth as he starts to move his kisses down to your throat, sucking and mouthing a path.

He reaches where your neck and shoulder meet and bites down hard. You cry out and hiss. He was always a little aggressive with you, lugging your around, positioning you in different ways, fucking you until you almost passed out. You liked it. You always looked forward to when the moon shines because of him.

You always wake up with bruises that didn’t seem to be well hidden under make up and scratches that weren’t there the day before. He always left some to remind you of the night before.

At least, that’s what you like to think happened. Doctors say that you sleepwalk, that your brain doesn’t fully rest. It was the only logical explanation. It adds up. Especially since some of your stuff was misplaced or thrown to the floor the morning after. 

He laid you on the bed, clawing at your sleep pants and shoving them down. His fingers met your flesh and you cried out from the way he slammed into you so quickly. He filled you, the sound of his cock driving into you making a thick squelch resound around your bedroom. 

“You're so wet, Sweetheart. You miss me that bad?”

He smirks.

God, how you wish he were real.

…

“Hey Steven,” you greet cheerily.

He completely ignores you as he walks by, instead hurriedly walking to the back room where all of the storage was held.

Your face falls. Of course, he wouldn’t notice you, no one did. You ignore the amused stares of the others around you.

How pathetic of you, assuming he would even look in your direction. Assuming anyone would look in your direction.

Marc is angry. He thought you deserved the world. He wished he could be there with you. But alas, he had to make Steven believe that he was the only person in that dim witted brain of his.

But seeing tears form under your lashes, and seeing you brushing off your embarrassment set him off. Steven falls to the floor, tripping, seemingly on air.

Whenever Marc saw you glance in his direction Steven was dealt with another, minor, injury. A paper cut, a hit to his funny bone, biting his cheek when eating.

He didn’t feel jealous of the way you looked at Steven. He didn’t think Steven didn’t deserve your attention. He definitely didn’t hate the way you’d get sad whenever Steven couldn’t even remember your name. No. All he had to do was remember that you two would see each other again. That Steven was temporary.

You only liked Steven because he looked like him.

…

You were tired, even in your dreams it seemed. You’ve dealt with fatigue before; you were used to feeling it weigh you down. You were starting to get better especially with the meds you’ve been prescribed. The side effects freak you out though. You’ve learned to live with them.

As you lay beside him, heavy in his arms with sleepiness, you think back on the first time he appeared to you.

It was a particularly mind numbing night. You kept on thinking about the incident. The bodies piled upon bodies of people that hurt you. You couldn’t help but feel as if even then, they didn’t deserve their fates, despite the way they kidnapped you and threatened your life for ransom money.

Money that was never going to arrive anyway. 

You owed your life to him, the man wrapped in bandages and with golden crescents in both hands. But you were terrified when he snatched you up, the fabric of his suit covered in blood and rubbing against your clothes. You didn’t think heroes would decapitate the villains. You didn’t think they would leave their enemies so beaten it was almost impossible to identify their dead bodies.

You turned in your bed and were met with him, now cleaned of any blood and watching from the foot of your bed. The drugs were messing with your mind. The pills made you numb.

You sat up and stared back, unafraid.

He left after that and kept on coming back once every week, then twice, then thrice, until it became every night.

You felt noticed. You felt good about yourself. In a way, the thought of a man coming into your house, just to be in your presence, made you feel nice. Even if it wasn’t real.

He implemented himself into your nightly routine smoothly.

You sleep in his arms and wake up tucked in your bed, you almost cry from the thought that you had to go to work. You wish you were asleep a little longer.

…

You offered him a cup of tea, and he took it gently, brushing his fingers over yours. Uncovering his face from the bandages and blowing softly, he pushes the steam to you. Your face scrunches from the heat and you huff. He chuckles as you repeat the action back to him.

“You look like my coworker,” you say after staring at him for a couple of seconds.

He freezes and places his cup on the counter in front of him. You tap your nails against the wood and tilt your head as if you were analyzing him like an art enthusiast.

“You’re grumpy and you lost the accent, but you look the same.”

Marc frowns.

“The same curls, too. I didn’t think he looked this handsome up close.”

“I'm not Steven,” he mumbles.

“Yeah… I know.”

He didn’t like the way you said that so sadly. As if it pained you that he wasn’t Steven. As if Steven was the one holding you, caring for you, and pleasing you.

“I'm better,” he says sharply. Your brows furrow at his sudden shift in tone.

“He doesn’t even notice you. He doesn’t even think about you. You mean nothing to him.”

“W-what?” you stutter out.

He ignores you, opting to shout, even as you start to tremble.

“You’re always drooling over him, and he doesn’t even care.”

“I don’t- “

“It’s pathetic, the way everyone else can see that you have no chance and yet you still believe somewhere, deep in your heart, that there could be something- that there even would be anything if he looked in your direction.”

You started to breathe heavily. He finally stopped when he saw you stand from your table quickly, making the chair underneath you crash against the floor.

“Why are you saying these things to me?” you sob.

He tried to get closer to you. To calm you down.

“You’re n-not real! You are not real!”

You close your eyes tightly. Wishing that you would wake up, that his words were just a dream turned nightmare.

He enveloped you in his arms and you tried to claw your way out of his hold. You felt as if you were being suffocated. You couldn’t take a full breath in.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe with me.”

His hold on you tightens and he turns your back to his front. He breathes in deeply. You feel his chest rise and fall exaggeratedly.

You try to follow but you keep on getting choked on your own stuttering breaths. He loosens slightly and gestures with his hand in time with his breaths.

When you calmed, you felt your whole body slump. The energy zapped out of you. You didn’t see him reach back and sprinkle something into your mug. 

He brings your tea to your lips. The strange new taste didn’t reach your brain. After a few minutes your eyes start to feel heavy. Your head is now turning to mush. You can only hear him, whispering into your hair, even as you start to lose consciousness.

“I'm sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry, baby…”

You wake up dead tired, the last thing you remember from your dreams was the man in white telling you his name wasn’t Steven. You wonder why the dream was shorter than usual.

… 

“He told me his name wasn’t Steven.”

She stares at you.

“He seemed upset- “

“Do you think that maybe, this entity you’ve made in your subconscious and has to do with the incident.”

With a tight-lipped smile she continues, ignoring your surprised look.

“Witnesses say that the suspect was wrapped in bandages and had glowing eyes, things you’ve described this person in your dreams as having. Could you be making this figure in your head, perhaps in an attempt to stabilize your fear?”

“I don't- “

“You did say you had feelings for your co-worker. Are you associating this person with someone you know? Some encounters might be inherently sexual because of your feelings for Steven.”

You feel tears gather in your eyes; a deep sadness builds within you. You knew from the start that he wasn’t real, that he was a dream, but you felt as if you have a relationship with him, a deep and emotional relationship. Of course he was a result of trauma.

She made sense, you didn’t. As always. You had to face reality again. She thought you were getting too into your fantasies.

You cry silently and she watches from her seat, not moving from where she sat to console you in what you felt was a deep loss.

…

He sits on your bed, watching as you lay on your side and face the wall. Your back was to him, and you didn’t turn as you felt his weight press against the mattress. He knew you were awake by the way your heart thuds erratically as he snakes his hand up your shirt and smooths over your back. He unhooks your bra skillfully and you sharply inhale.

You didn’t move. Instead, you close your eyes tightly and shoving him away. The pang of rejection turns into that of irritation. He moves over your body, but his face softens when he sees tears fall from your eyes.

His mask retracts and his gloved hand comes up to caress your cheek, swiping at a tear.

“What happened?” he asks. “Who made you cry?”

You don’t look at him, instead focusing your gaze on his shoulder.

“You’re not real.”

He guffaws and pulls you to sit up in his lap. He cradles your face with both hands, making you look directly at him.

“I'm real. As real as can be.”

You pull his hands away. He pouts.

“You’re a dream.”

“I’d hope so.”

Your lip wobbles and your brows twitch uncontrollably.

“I wish you were real.”

He pulls you against his chest, urgently trying to comfort you. It just made you cry harder.

“It’s true, she told me. You're just something I made up in my head. I knew from the start- b-but once she told me… I just feel pathetic,” you say in between hiccups.

He shivers at your use of that word. He feels guilt and anger build in his stomach

“Who told you this?” You were too caught up in your emotional breakdown to notice the danger in his voice. Or the rumble that resounded in his chest filled with pure rage at the idea that someone could have hurt you this badly.

“My psychiatrist, the one who gave me the pills to sleep better.” You were confused. If he was something that you made up in your head, how could he not know everything that was already in there.

His anger built up. His hands tighten around your shirt as he rocked you. He thinks he’s going to pay someone a visit.

“I need a name, baby,” he says softly, against your hair. You mumble out a quiet response.

“Address?” You adjust against his hold and start to play with the crescent on his chest. He almost didn’t hear you when you said the street name from how quiet you’d gotten.

He kisses the side of your head. His hands rub your back soothingly as you cry against him.

“I'm going to prove I’m real. You won’t have to cry again.”

… 

Steven’s been having dreams. Dreams of you. They usually feel as if he’s waking up. As if he was placed in situations with you at random.

They were only glimpses, blips of your face and cheeky smile. He always felt incredibly hot whenever he saw you in compromised positions, stopping for a moment to gather himself and then continuing whatever dream he was doing.

He now has your moans, your little gasps and your begs on his mind. He really didn’t know where they came from.

“Stevie!”

He almost drops the boxes in his hands.  He sees someone round the corner.

“It’s Steven, actually!” he shouts back in irritation.

He grumbles under his breath cursing the job he’s stuck with at the moment. He turns and regrets the impression he made, especially since you caught him yelling.

Donna looks between the both of you, motioning Steven over. He looks at you in awe. You looked exactly like his dreams up close. From the mark on your cheek to the small scar under your jaw.

You felt insecure as he basically ogled at you, probably judging you as Donna talked.

“… Anyways, Steven, I brought you help. Show her where things go and what not.”

“Course’ Donna,” he says as he continues to stare at you.

She made a face at the fact that he was being weird, weirder than usual at least. That was none of her business. She left quickly after.

You look around the room in concern. It was incredibly disorganized. When Donna asked or more like threatened you to help, you thought it wasn’t going to be as bad as she made it seem. You thought it seemed much worse now that you’re there.

“Uh… hi I’m- “

“Oh, I know who you are. No need to introduce yourself,” he says cheerily as he places his hand on your shoulder.

You smile shyly, but your heart thumps wildly. He reminded you so much of your dream man. His gaze was very heavy. Intense. You chuckle awkwardly when his hand doesn't move and instead his fingers spread on your shoulder.

His thumb rubs against your clavicle and he zones out. His eyelids lower slightly and his tongue peeks out a little between his lips. Your whole body goes hot. He stares into your shoulder. His hand looks huge on your shoulder.

He wonders what other part of your body his hands would look good on. You clear your throat lightly. He snaps out of it, realizing his hold on you was getting too tight.

“Right! Thank you for the help, darling. I could really use it right now,” he smiles warmly.

“N-no problem.” Your stomach was filled with butterflies. You felt as if you wanted to puke. Darling. Jesus.

He shows you where the things are supposed to be. Telling you a random fact about each piece of merchandise and ranting to you about when they got things wrong or were factually incorrect. You listen intently, catching his every word even when he starts to ramble.

“Oh. Sorry, I go off on my own a lot.”

“No worries, I get it. You're passionate about history.”

His smile widens.

You two make quick work of everything. He usually stopped to point at something he found funny or cute and your cheeks would heat up from his attention. 

By your side you only needed to store one more box.

You bend down to check the contents inside and he groans. He’s had visions of you like this. He remembers the way your back arches, the way you cum so easily in that position. His pants feel very uncomfortable.

You stand up straight, but he still has the image of you, ass up and head buried in pillows presenting your sweet pussy to him. He swears he could still see your lips glisten and could feel how wet you were.

He stops you when you lean down again to pick it up, insisting that he could do it for you. 

“Looks like everything here is good,” you say as you stretch your arms out. 

He nods, clearly not focused on what you were saying. He was probably tired, you thought. He definitely wasn't watching the way your breasts bounced as you moved.

You nervously kicked your foot back and forth, colliding with the stand and unbalancing spare boxes from atop. 

Packing peanuts are all over your hair and one or two boxes thump to the floor loudly. He snorts as he sees you surrounded in packaging. 

You thought you were going to die of embarrassment. He was laughing at you. You try to chuckle to cover your urge to run and hide. When he starts to help you pick up some of the heaps of wraps and boxes, you start to feel your eyes well with tears. He looks at you in concern.

"Oh no, you're not crying about your hair, are you? Here- I'll fix it for you." He pushes past the mess of plastic on the floor and cradles your face instinctually. He practically coos at you. Your tears seem to dissipate, your embarrassment turning into confusion.

He starts picking the peanuts from your hair, softly reassuring you that it was alright and that you would soon be in tip top shape. When he’s done he smooths his hands over your head, slowly moving them to cup your face. He stops and admires it.

You're as plush as he remembered. He can see your soft tummy from this angle, the way your hips curve and the way your thighs press against each other softly. He starts to lean his head into yours. His eyes start to close?

“Steven, what- “

He kisses you. You were in shock. But as he pressed himself further into you, you couldn’t help but reciprocate. His hands find their way to your waist and squeeze at your flesh.

You were so damn soft and plump, he felt as if he wanted to devour you.

His tongue passes through your lips, and you whine. He didn’t know how he knew you liked that. You feel as if you could explode from the way his head buried on your neck and he bites down on your spot.

A loud crash makes you both jump and pull away. One of the boxes fell from a pile. You turn back to him and see him staring at the mark he made. He snaps out of his trance when he sees you touch the tender skin with your fingertips.

Just like your dreams, you both thought.

You hear someone call your name.  You hurriedly adjust your shirt and straighten your work attire.

“Stevie, pick up the mess,” she says tiredly as she rounds the corner. She points to you with two fingers, holding a clipboard on one hand.

“You. I need you to do something for me.”

She gets irritated when you don’t move, instead staring at her with wide eyes.

“Come on then, I don’t have all day.”

You mumble a quiet sorry as she leads you out of the room and shoves the board in your hands.

You look over your shoulder to see Steven frowning, his shoulders slumped and his head lowered.

…

The next day, you stared at the note on your fridge. A magnet you got from the gift shop holding it still. You had just woken up; your dreams were extra rough that night. The dream man was not gentle, he seemed even more possessive than previous interactions.  You woke up with more bruises than usual.

Call your psychiatrist. I’m more than real.

It wasn’t in your handwriting. You don’t remember ever writing it. You were more than a little scared.

You were going crazy. You called. She’d probably tell you that you wrote the note yourself. That in your state of delusion you made it seem as if someone else did it.

“Can I talk to Dr.- “

“I'm sorry miss but she didn’t come to the office today.”

“I thought her days off were the weekends.”

“We, ehm, don’t actually know where she is at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll call you back when she’s in, yeah love? I’m sure she’s just running late.”

“… yeah.”

She was found lying half dead in her bedroom. A note was attached to her blouse.

Proof

…

You’ve been having a shitty day. The one person that you could talk about anything was gone, and the person in your dreams was grumpier than usual. You even felt a little fear being around him, the note was too much of a coincidence.

But the thought of seeing Steven again cheers you up immensely. You get giddy as you walk through the door to the entrance.

Your heart pumps in your chest, you could hear it beat in your ears.

“Are we still on for Seven tomorrow?”

He nods slowly. “Seven. Tomorrow?”

She smiles at him. He copies her.

“Best steak in town?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, right.”

“Yeah? Okay.”

Your stomach plummets and you almost trip mid step. You stop. You didn’t notice her leaving the gift shop desk already. You start to move again when you catch Steven’s gaze. He tries to walk up to you but Donna goes up to him.

“Stevie, you absolute rascal. I didn’t know you had taken a crack.”

You shuffle away quickly. Despite the tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision you were able to find the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall.

You avoid everyone the whole day.

…

Marc treasures his time with you. Ensuring that he soothes your tears. He feels a little sympathy for you, for what Steven did. He’s sure it was a mistake, considering he doesn’t even remember Steven talking to the woman in the first place.

He stays with you, consoling you and drying your tears.

Maybe it was a good thing.

You just needed to understand; he couldn’t be with you. He’s sure as time passes your sadness will pass. You have him. Who else could you possibly want? Who else would care for you as much as he has?

--------------------

Thank you all for reading! I didn't really change much from this one, I like it how it is. Comments and Reblogs are much appreciated!! Part two on its way...

-Alejandra 💋

[sku11s1asher]

Kinktober Day 1: Edging

lyney x top male reader

notes: guess who’s doing kinktober?? me!! pretend i posted this earlier since i couldn’t find a list until last sec, oops. ignore the fact that this is short and totatllyyy not rushed.. i don’t even know the characters i wanna do so PLEASE DM OR SPAM MY INBOX WITH CHARACTERS YOU WANNA SEE!! if a day doesn’t get posted on time, i promise ill post it eventually trust

cw: edging (obv), one slap on his thigh, sharp ass nails, crying, im a sucker for lyney sorry guys

It must be a wonderful feeling to have Lyney, the great magician of Fontaine, the future successor to Arlechino, right under your fingertips, literally. Such a strong man, reduced to a whimpering and begging mess, all because of a little touching. He looked so beautiful though, his makeup ruined, back arched, cock leaking, body on full display, just for you.

A needy whine left his lips, “Please, I- I can’t!” Your eyes flickered up, tilting your head at him, “You can’t what? Use your big boy words, baby.” He could barely open his eyes to look at you, everything was too much. His arm went over his face when your hand slowly started moving again, it took everything in him to not buck his hips. He needed to cum so badly, why are you being such an asshole?

You leaned down to kiss his stomach before taking your hand off his cock. You’ve only been edging him for 15 minutes, it’s pathetic how quickly he became a mess. After staring at him for a few moments longer, you finally grabbed the lube, opening it, and pouring it over his dick, watching as it slowly dripped down towards his hole.

—

Maybe it was too much, he was squeezing around your fingers so tightly, thighs squeezing around you. Every sound that came from his mouth was almost laughable, barely audible words, moans, and whimpers. It’s like you took away his tongue.

“Calm down,” you said to him, your free hand giving his thigh a light slap. Your finger kept rubbing against his prostate, sometimes purposely missing it. “How can I calm down?” He hissed out, eyes starting to fill with tears. All you could do was let out a chuckle, no matter how angry he pretended to be, his body always betrayed him.

Once you finally decided to stick another finger inside of him, a fat glob of pre cum dripped from his tip. You could tell that he was trying his hardest to not cum, the way his breathing started to increase, how his face slightly changed, the slight grind against your fingers. Of course, you paused your movements, just long enough for him to lose the high before you started to get him open.

—

“Fuck,” as soon as you were even an inch inside of him, he was trying to pull all of you inside. “Lyney,” your voice warned, the grip on his waist tightening. All you got in response was a loud moan and nails going deeper into your back. When you, finally, got inside of him, it felt like heaven. Hell, it sounded like heaven.

“You wanna cum?” You asked into his ear, head falling into his neck, biting it as you thrust. “Yes, yes, please!” He begged, one of his hands going on your head, pulling you closer. Though, his other hand tried going to his dick, which didn’t slide with you. As soon as you felt his hand go between your stomachs, you stopped moving altogether.

“No, no, no, ‘m sorry-“ he quickly pleaded, you could feel his tears, what a baby. “If try to you touch yourself, I’ll stop again,” You warned, slowly going back to thrusting into him. He didn’t even last a minute, hole immediately squeezing you tighter, nails scratching your back, finally coming. You didn’t stop for a second, trying to reach your own high as he continued to moan like a cheap whore.

[zoropookie]

WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — EIGHT

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter seven — 7.5 — chapter nine

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

There were a lot of things people called you.

Many not nice, many just condescending...you definitely weren't known for being wise. You acted off of impulse, and maybe that was why you're always getting in trouble. Whether it be in school, financially, or...right now.

At least in those past instances, though, you weren't in a life or death situation. Maybe that's why you thought you could do this on your own, kick your own mind into gear and take it by the hind legs. Maybe it was because you tried to outrun him before and it backfired.

You didn't want to give him that victory again.

As your darling chaser cradled his new wound, hissing in light defeat as he reeled from the cut, you jumped immediately from the boot and gave yourself pressure to your bare feet. They sent an agonizing ache up to your calves, but you grit your teeth and grind them together, running towards the driver seat.

Your feet felt the sharp gravel bite into your soles, each step sent screaming nerves in your body, pushing with adrenaline fueling you forward. Even if this were kind of hot in theory, you couldn't let him recover.

The keys were still clutched securely in your hands bound together, metal edges also stabbing into your palms and giving you a crimson trickle that wet your forearms. You reached hastily to open the driver's side door, in a panic, fumbling the keys in your hands but to no avail. Putting each key in the hole of the now locked car. Your bound hands fumbled awkward enough to drop them on the floor, an inward gasp exuding immediately.

"Come on," You muttered with tears in your eyes, the rope tightly bind on your wrists while you wiggled your fingers to try and rip the door out of its place. Your fingers clumsily attempted to use what strength you had to force the door open, but it was almost like trying to thread a needle with mittens on.

Just as you were able to start booking it, your current kidnapper's hand shot out and grabbed at your covered wrist. You shrieked, using all of your might to try and struggle your way out, but he was just too strong for you. Your grip began to slip from the keys, and he sighed tiredly.

"This game is tedious," He said lightly. "You may as well do what you do with everything else, and give up."

"You don't even know me!" You yelled back at him, your voice scratching from your constant screaming but you didn't relent whatsoever, "Leave me alone!"

You were so unsettled by the next look he gave you that your chest started to tighten, like the breathing you were initially holding had been dragging itself back to your lungs. His violet eyes were darker, and colder than when he did look at you. Like he lacked a core emotion. After what you saw from him, you were unsurprised and it wasn't a stretch to believe he didn't actually have them, but it was still eery to look at considering the silence between the both of them.

"I don't have anything for you." You compromised. "Just let me go. I won't fuck with you, even if it kills me."

"How predictable," He spoke lowly, almost a sharp whisper, but it had carried a more hostile edge that made your blood run cold in seconds. "You're not hard to know. I've been looking for someone like you for ages, always thinking they can outrun their problems. Always thinking they can solve all of their problems by walking away from it. Walk away from this."

You didn't even see his hand reach into his pocket before there was already a steely glint against your throat, the cold texture on the skin of your pharynx. Your breathing became erratic, chest rising and falling in gasps of desperation. But even with this in mind, he still stared at you with an unsettling intensity. Like you were some type of puzzle piece that was lost after six months of completing the picture, intending on putting you back. You tried to pull away again with a violent jerk, but his hold was unyielding against you, iron shackles.

"Just let me go!" You cried, "Okay?! I won't say shit, I swear. You'll never see me again!" You spat out, your voice shaking despite the valiant effort to sound resolute. To sound like you were trying to fight for your own life. You lost your voice a few times, trying to keep yourself from shivering against the very threatening knife too close for comfort.

His silence was terrifying, defeaning in your eyes while he studied you, sizing you up. You knew the wheels were turning, which meant he was considering your plea for a split second. But just as you thought that, a gladdened smile spread on his face, teeth slightly baring as he sucked at his teeth.

You had no idea what was going on until you heard the low rumble of an engine resounding from afar. Both of them paused, their eyes narrowing towards the noise as a rusty, light blue vehicle moved to a slow stop across from the two of them.

Slowly reaching for the window to unwind it, the woman who seemed to be in her early fifties pulled her glasses up to her face at the two. "Is... everything okay?" She asked with mild confusion. "I heard screaming all the way from here while I was on my way home."

You stopped in your tracks, looking slowly at your kidnapper who was looking at you already with a squint as a warning.

taglist ♢ @kinvasions @kazumiku @animeobsessed56 @levianamor @auroratumbles

@mellowberrie @scarawiki @xxxion

[kohvan]

Selfpleasuring Seeds: three sketches

Tags/TW: smut, detailed.

"Yes… yes…" John's breath came out from his lips mixed with short moans. The hardness between his legs, peeking from under his lowered pants and boxers, ached and throbbed as he caressed it. He hissed, a thumb pressing against the tip of his shaft, giving out a painfully good sensation. He felt almost drunk or high, his fingers getting lower to the base of his cock, wrapping around it and giving it a nice, punishing squeeze. "Fucking sinner…" he exhaled, looking down at his swollen shaft standing hard and rubbing against his shirt ever so slightly. He closed his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick dry lips. He was so fucking close… A burning embarrassment mixed with arousal made him dizzy. He could almost hear in his ears judging voices of his parents and Joseph… Look at you. Doing such a dirty thing… Sinning before God's eyes… Disgusting, dirty sinner… "Yes…" he whined, his fingers stroking the whole length of his cock from its base to head only to smear a drop of pre-cum that gathered on it. "F-fuck…" Boys are not allowed to touch themselves like this, John. They get punished for that. You don't want us to punish you, do you? "Mh… please…" His hand movements sped up, matching his quickening breath. You're a sinner, John. From inside out. A damned one, indeed. "Yes… Oh God… I am… I am a sinner…" he whimpered, feeling his balls tightening as he reached his climax. We are so disappointed, John. Is it what we taught you to be? We wanted you to be cleansed. We wanted you to be pure. Don't you want to be pure? "No… yes…" his hand slid down and back up a few more times, his voice reminding a whine now. "Please… I want… I want…" Finally, he shuttered into a cllimax. He emptied himself erratically in his fist, gasping with each pulsation of his balls.

Jacob couldn't remember being that hard in years, that's for sure. His cock ached, pressing against his jeans, demanding attention. "Fuck…" if he could just not think about that pretty hands of hers… "Fuck," he repeated, palming himself through his clothes. He shoved aside a pen he held, and it fell on his working desk with a clink. Dammit, can't it wait until he comes back into his quarters? He can't do it right here, while sitting in his fucking office chair, working, and… But oh, if it was her fingers, not his… Her small and yet somehow long fingers with those pink tips and little scratchy nails, so beautiful despite all of the hard work… He closed his eyes and dropped his head on the back of the chair, caressing himself. His hand worked automatically, finding the zipper and pulling it down, slipping under his boxers… "F-f…" he hissed, barely able to curse, as he grabbed his shaft. Her hand would be too short for him, not even wrapped around him fully, wouldn't it? And her touch would be so soft and oh, so inexperienced at first… Yes, just like that… up and down… barely touching… and then giving it a tentative squeeze… and then… He exhaled sharply, biting down the moan that threatened to escape his throat. It felt too good. Too fucking good to be true. So he sped up a little, the caress turning into more of a scratch as he tried to push that vivid image of her out of his mind. He just needed to cum… to drop off that pent up stress… And then back to work… back to… "Jacob? Can I come in?" her voice came from behind the door, followed by a knock. He let out a short gasp, immediately reaching his peak. A handful of sperm spilled out on his palm and fingers, as if he was a damn teenager not able to hold back.

A myriad of voices followed him, calling for him again and again. Father, father, father… Too many lost souls, too many hurt children aching for his love. He breathed heavily, his brow pressed against the bathroom mirror. He needed to get it together. He couldn't afford this stress, not now, not when there is so much yet to be done… Joseph closed his eyes, his chest raising heavily with each deep breath he took. Yes, just like that. Just need to calm down. Just… He gasped softly, feeling a weird, unusual pain in his lower abdomen. His palm sneaked down from his bare chest to the waistband of his pants, caressing his stomach, trying to coax the pain away. But it kept building, a natural response to all of the stress he felt. A natural… and yet so forbidden. "No," he said to himself, full of confidence. "It's against your views, Joseph," his eyes snapped open, a judging stare facing him in the mirror. And yet, his hand seemed to move on its own accord. Committing a sin of flesh. He exhaled slowly, feeling the sensation of this feather-light touch of his hand against his hardening member. It was wrong. He had to fight it. But he was so tired of fighting. He… he couldn't afford this… the sin, it wasn't like him… "But aren't you just a human?" The voice came off his own lips, sounding both foreign and familiar. "God always forgive those who seek atonement…" His breath against the mirror created a foggy spot, blurring his face into someone else's. That voice urged him into giving in. And as much as he fought it, he wanted to give in. His hand grasped his groin, coaxing it into a full hardness. He swallowed, his mouth dry, the fingers, his, or not his any longer, teasing him through the denim of his pants. "N-no…" his own voice finally came out, a small whimper. "It's wrong…" He closed his eyes again, biting his lip painfully. He can't… he shouldn't… he… His breath hitched, a small sound escaping his mouth as he felt himself falling over the edge of this sinful act. Joseph opened his eyes again, his palm pressed hard against his groin. A wet spot slowly growing under his fingers.

[animequeen4]

okay y’all hear me out… alastor, Lucifer, and Adam and their s/o meeting their fandom personas

alastor x reader x cursed cat alastor

Yn: “Al look at what I found! Isn’t he the cutest 😍”

alastor: “what is the world is that? 😃”

is genuinely confused on what and where it came from all he knows is that it hates him and everyone else except yn

Yn once putted a bow tie on him and looked like he loved it by this smile seeming genuinely yet when his bow tie was coming undone he would hiss and scratch at anyone who tried to fix it and only allowed yn to fix it

had a tendency to bring gifts for yn like nice and one time a ENTIRE deer carcass but after seeing she would throw it away he started to bring started bringing stuff like Freshly pulled out of the ground flowers, sometimes jewelry, and one time a cute hat

as for alastor he does not like the thing

he hates how the thing will always try to get in the way when he tries to do anything with yn like when it’s early in the morning and he wants to enjoy the peaceful moment with you he will just show up somehow in the room cuddling you, when he tries to give you a kiss on the cheek the will but bring your attention to him instead, and onetime he tried locking the door to get some quality time alone together and keep him out, THE CAT NEARLY BROKE DOWN THE WHOLE DOOR!!! The only time they got along was when they were protecting yn and when they both showed dislike for Susan

then one day a cat version of yn showed up also out of no where and immediately Cat Alastor stopped beefing with regular alastor because now both have their own yn

although yn was sad cat alastor wasn’t hanging out with her as much anymore she was happy and hopefully she can finally enjoy some peace of mind knowing they were not fighting anymore

lets just say a few months later there would be some kittens and they become permanent residents because cat alastor would bite who every tried to touch the kittens and his yn 😅

Lucifer x reader x cursed cat Lucifer

Out of all three he is the one who is actually loving meeting their fandom persona

“OMG HE IS AS CUTE AS KIKI! 🥹”

Lucifer gets even more excited see he too has a appreciation for ducks

let’s kitty Lucifer sleep with any of his ducks (except the Lilith one which he hides)

Kitty Lucifer loves yn almost as much as regular version of him

Like cat alastor he lives little gifts for yn except they usually come some with ducks mostly rubber ducks

however it is a bit of a hassle sometimes with him having wings where as when it’s time for a bath we will try to fly away but will get in the bath willing it there are some rubber ducks

when a yn cat showed up Lucifer was excited but not as much as his feline counterpart who acted like they were husband and wife and he missed his wife dearly

Kitty Lucifer was latter found being groomed by cat yn who was licking him clean and the too we’re sharing kitten kisses with kitty Lucifer having a completely smitten look 🥰

Adam x reader x squished/tiny Adam

Adam: “THIS LITTLE SHIT STOLE AND ATE ONE OF MY RIBS?!?! We need to get rid of it!”

yn: “oh come how Adam he is like you so he too likes ribs”

tiny Adam will often ask for cuddles and I imagine he is about as the same size as the cats so when cuddling he is pressed against yns boobs so tiny Adam will smirk at Adam making him jealous and flip regular Adam off while yn Isn’t looking

tiny Adam will also sleep on top of or cuddle yn while she sleeps so sometimes he just likes hanging out in her between her boobs

will often try to steal things like food, phones, jewelry to try and make him look cooler, and one time he has been caught stealing yns bra but was stopped easily due to how small he is

Will basically always come between the two of you when you tried to do anything romantic

not sure if he is wearing a mask like Adam or if that is his actual face due to always fighting anyone who tried to check

once Adam realized how he is able to get away with stuff they suddenly become good friends and caused a lot of mischief

I don’t know why but I imagine tiny Adam would also try to sing songs like hell is forever but it ends up sounding a lot cutter due to how high his voice is or he ends up squeaking instead

one day a tiny yn showed up and Adam finally understand why yn loved tiny Adam so much. ITS LIKE HAVING A TINY VERSION OF HER HE CAN TAKE AROUND WITH HIM WHEREVER HE GOES!! ITS SO FREAKING CUTE!! 🥹

tiny Adam then started started liking tiny yn and to regular Adam and yn it was like watching how they fell in love

ps these are not my art please don’t get after me I am just using these for illustrations on what they look like I am not claiming ownership and I hope you enjoyed 😁

[circus-clangen]

What would be each of the cats reaction to being picked up by a human? All I imagine is:

Some human child visiting the circus: "Look! A kitty in a costume!" *picks up Ringstar*

Ringstar: *Gives the most alcoholic, suicidal, done-with-life stare the poor child has ever seen*

Human child: *drops Ringstar*

I think Ringstar would be FASCINATED at first. He’s obsessed with humans, but has never gotten close enough to let himself be touched by one. For the first few seconds he would be in awe and reverence of this creature, until he gets pet once with sticky carnival food hands and he goes completely feral and almost scratches some kids Eyes out

Tiger would be nervous and try to get away but tbh I think if she was picked up and handled gently? She would be content to just… curiously let herself be pet and oohed and aahed for a moment

Clown would HISS and SCRATCH and draw blood in .7 seconds and give someone rabies

Trapeze would be wary but also wary to hurt a human that hadn’t hurt him so most likely he’d just wriggle uncomfortably. He’s a pretty big boy so I imagine most people wouldn’t be able to keep a hold of him.

Whip would give the person the most ASTONISHED “how can it be that I’ve been captured” look and then wriggle himself free. Slippery boy

Monkey would be like trapeze in that he’d be unwilling to hurt a person, but he’d be much more nervous about being picked up and want to be put down IMMEDIATELY

Marquee would bite down hard on someone’s tendons and Refuse to let go until they cried

Gold would let herself be held. Not taken, or moved, or pet, and put in someone’s lap, but just—held, waiting to be put down, and studying you in the meantime.

[delaber]

Firestarter pt. 2 (Loki x Reader)

Summary: After two months of amazing hate-fucking, Loki accidentally lets his newfound feelings show - and suddenly, the anger’s back in her eyes. Only this time, she has the upper hand.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, pining

Words: 5K

Find part 1 here

"Yessss that's it," he hisses and smacks her ass.

It's two months later and they're still at it - not every night, but almost.

He'd otherwise feared it a one time thing with the way she'd so quickly recovered the first night after he'd pulled three astonishing orgasms out of her, but had been positively thrilled to find her yelling at him on his doorstep the very next evening. He honestly cannot even remember what he did to upset her that much, but he knows it must've made her really angry because he vividly remembers three minutes later with his hands full of ass and his tongue buried inside of her.

She's calmed down since then; he doesn't have to provoke her to get her wet anymore but they still fuck like it's the end of the world.

It's the rawest, dirtiest, most destructive sex he's ever had and it's magnificent, carnal, rough! He slaps her ass as hard as he can, eats her beautiful cunt, forces his fingers inside of her until she screams his name, lets her tie him up while she tastes all of him.

It's been two secretive months of bite marks and purple tints on his skin. Of long, red scratches down his back and raven-black hair being pulled out in the most delicious of ways.

She - is - incredible! He wants to cum - fuck, she deserves the praise!

He lets her know.

"Fuck me, Loki," she hisses his name the way that he loves and it sends tingles all the way down to his balls, makes his head float up to the heavens.

"As you please," he flips them around, lies her down on her back, towers over her and admires her pliant body with his hand caressing down over her soft stomach. He still cannot believe he's this lucky!

He pushes himself back inside of her with force, watches her sweet little face contract with pleasure as her mouth falls open in an inaudible sigh.

"Darling girl," he hisses and feels her tighten around him as he diligently slides into her silk. "You feel amazing!" He leans forwards, pinches her beautiful nipple, sucks on her jawline, ruts hit hips against her to the vulgar sound of her hypnotising wetness swallowing him whole.

"Oh," she moans and he almost shivers when her eyelids close halfway with every meticulously-placed thrust of his hips while he moves with control, careful not to let go and cut the moment short - he never has her afterwards...

"Loki," she hums ever so sweetly in his ear, scrapes her nails down over his already raw-clawed shoulder blades, wraps her legs around his back, contracts around him while he's concentrating on the entirety that is her.

He saved her, he thinks to himself and gasps when his seidr begins to glow at the memory. He's thought of it a million times already and still, the mere sight of the scar on her shoulder makes his chest expand - expand - expand!

He connects his forehead with hers, finds her wide eyes and slows his hips down to a tender pace.

He was worthy enough to save her!

Their connection feels like something resembling faith. Like branches weaved at the foot of Yggdrasil, and he sensually rolls his hips and kisses her deeply, fucks her like a lover.

It's suddenly slow and caring. Soft and all-consuming. She seems to love it, and without warning, she's raking her soft finger pads through his long hair, licking his throat like a kitten while he expertly slowly guides himself in and out of her tight wetness. She whispers his name affectionately and everything glows brighter than before.

"Darling," his tongue slides into her mouth again, caresses her lazily, doubles as a non-verbal whisper telling her that he feels the same. He feels the same - and she immediately picks up on the fluorescent seidr that's filling up his chest cavity; she gasps, flutters around him, and she comes - loudly!

"Oh God!" she closes her eyes and tips over the edge while her perfect inner walls contract violently and squeeze him tight.

He's never heard such beautiful, long moans before as her fingers grab onto his curls and she gently pulls him with her, fills him up with sparks while he fucks her slowly.

He can feel every nerve ending in his body being pulled taut as a flash bow as his seidr vibrates and he finally spills inside her embracing heat to the music of her breaths against his ear.

"My sweet girl," he growls as he involuntarily falls down from his high and pulls her close while she whimpers like a wounded animal. "My goddess!" he kisses her throat, rakes his teeth across her humid skin, trails his hand down between them, ready to spoil her over and over again with his fingers, his tongue, his cock! She deserves it all and he's desperate to have her in his room a little longer. He wants her to stay forever.

He can feel the intense bond between them tightening and he slowly starts moving his hips again while his fingers find her clit.

A pang of warmth strikes his belly when he looks at her pretty face, and he cannot help the desperately sincere "you are so beautiful," that escapes his lips as he leans down to kiss her. "I want you to spend the night."

The change on her face comes in a matter of milliseconds. Suddenly, the all-consuming bliss is replaced. First, by confusion and not even moments later by the scorching anger he knows so well. "What the fuck, Loki??" she pushes at his clammy chest, "what are you doing?"

At first, he's not sure if they've resumed their regular game of cat and mouse so he keeps toying with her delicate clit the way that he knows she loves. "What am I doing?" he licks her throat and teases her asshole with his middle finger, "I'm making you come - what does it look like I'm doing?"

"No!" she pushes him again and he finally lets her escape from between his legs when he realises that she's not joking. "What the fuck was that?!"

Confused, he watches her stand from the bed. "...I'm not following you?"

"You're slow-fucking me now?" she hisses as she quickly pulls on her top, hides away her body as if he did something detestable. "Forehead to forehead like you're in love with me or something?"

It stings. "Excuse me?!"

She huffs as she forcefully yanks on her jeans. "I thought we agreed on what this was!"

"We do," he positions himself on the edge of the bed with his hands grabbing onto the sheets so tightly his knuckles turn white with humiliation. "I don't understand what the issue here is."

"Did you enchant me?"

"Enchant you?" He barks, offended. "Is that what you think of me?"

"No - I..." She huffs and looks as if she's about to pull out her own hair in frustration. "You did something different!” She says accusingly.

"I slowed down."

"Well I didn't like it!"

"You didn't like it?" He repeats, baffled. It's his most stunning performance yet; mostly due to the way she so beautifully reacted to him, and now she's trying to make him believe that she didn't like it?! "Excuse me but I'm going to have to disagree with that. I made you come harder than ever before; don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

She sends him an annoyed side eye. "I was caught up in the moment."

"So was I!"

"That's not the point!"

"Indulge me then!"

They stare at each other, more confused than anything else and the silence between them is eating away at him.

"Tell me what I did," he pleads with a desperation that's unlike him while he instinctively reaches out for her hand although he knows it's a bad idea, "- so I won't repeat it next time."

He's right; it is a bad idea, because she immediately pushes his hand away with new-found flames in her eyes. "There won't be a next time," she says determinedly and with that, she gathers her shoes and storms out the door. Slams it shut.

***

She avoids him. Turns on her heel every time he enters a room, looks straight through him when they pass each other in the hallway, acts like they've barely even spoken a word - and he hates it! Hates the desperation, the emptiness of her face when he's the only one in the compound that knows her like this.

It reminds him of his lonely childhood when he would walk the golden halls of the palace alone, desperate for an ounce of the attention Thor was naturally given.

He gets the sudden urge to cause rampage like he did back then. Break treasured possessions, spread lies. But he's painfully aware that he's only at the tower as long as the Avengers want him there, so he behaves himself and tries to shove down the lonely howls from inside his chest.

***

Four days and seven excruciating encounters have to pass before she finally, graciously stands still long enough to let him speak to her.

It's a rainy afternoon and he's reading in the big winged chair by the fireplace when she unexpectedly comes into view.

She's walking back from the gym with her gaze fixed on the blonde man next to her, and as per usual, Loki's every muscle tightens by the sound of her voice alone, but this time it's for a whole different reason too because Steve Rogers is shirtless in all his virtuous glory and she's giggling at everything he's saying as they walk straight past Loki and disappear into the kitchen without sparing him a glance.

The silence that follows is deafening.

He knows that Rogers is the most vanilla man on Midgard - and definitely way too boring to satisfy her in bed - but the two of them have always been a little too chummy for his taste, so when Loki faintly hears Rogers call her sweetheart from the other side of the wall, there's no doubt he has to do something, so he pushes open the double doors to the kitchen, praying to the allfathers that he looks like a threat to the mighty Captain.

It's evident that Loki, ever so rudely, has just disturbed Rogers in the middle of a sentence but the guy is still so annoyingly polite that he nods respectfully in greeting.

Meanwhile, she only briefly looks up from her sandwich-in-the-making to shoot Loki an unimpressed glance before her eyes fall back down to her plate with a theatrical scoff. It makes Steve Rogers look curiously between the two of them with his eyebrows knitted closely together.

Loki gets the feeling that she's putting on an uncomfortable show only to get him to leave, but he's determined to talk to her so he stands his ground and starts flickering through the compound's tea selection achingly slowly just to piss her off.

"- what I mean is -" Steve Rogers continues as if Loki hasn't just barged in with daggers in his eyes. "I can teach you that leg takedown if you'd like? I'm sure Buck wouldn't mind sparring with Sam again some time later this week."

Loki pauses at Earl Grey and lets his gaze slip over to her.

"Yeah?" she hums with a cute little smile, "that sounds like fun. What about Tuesday?"

Her words have Steve Rogers nodding with excitement as he grabs his uninspiring ham-and-cheese sandwich from off the kitchen counter and walks towards the dining table in the next room. Even his tastebuds are bland. "It's a deal, sweetheart," he says.

Sweetheart. Loki's going to vomit.

He contains himself long enough to ensure the man's out of earshot until he angrily hisses out a "What are you doing?". He bites his tongue to stop himself from asking about whether she's interested in fucking the Captain or not. He has to tread carefully now that he finally has her on her own.

She sighs before looking up at him and he has to bite back a gulp when their eyes finally meet for longer than a tenth of a second. "...What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to talk to you. I want to know what horrible thing I did to have you ignoring me like this!"

"I already told you," she crosses her arms over her chest. "You've gone soft."

"...Soft?" He repeats in disbelief while staring at her. Had this been any other situation, he might've even laughed. He's never been referred to as soft before. "Excuse me but did you hit your head?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Loki..." she places her palms on the stone table top that serves as a physical barrier between them and looks him straight in the eye. It's dominatingly beautiful and it gives him the chills. "You've gone from hate-fucking me like a demon in heat to calling me your girl and telling me I'm beautiful."

"As if I would want to bed someone who looks like a trout!" He bites back, suddenly annoyed with her. She's right, of course, but it's not like he's about to let her know.

She responds to his clap-back with yet another sigh. "I thought we agreed it was a casual affair. No strings. And, granted, I hold some of the blame too; I probably should've stopped you when I started noticing your attitude towards me changing - I wasn't sure of anything, of course, but the slow-fucking?" She shoots him an unimpressed glance. "That one takes the cake!"

His mouth goes dry. "I don't understand what you're implying," he lies and it makes her scoff.

"Why can't you just admit that maybe the sex meant more to you than it did to me?"

He's taken aback by her bluntness. But it's her definitive use of the past tense that truly throws him off. He doesn't even have it in him to pretend otherwise, and with his silence, he's involuntarily admitting that the sex did indeed mean something to him. Exactly what, he's not sure of but something. He tries not to let it show.

"Loki," she cocks her head to the side with a lick of her lips and it makes it harder to pretend. "I'm not the girl for you. If you want to play house, I suggest you go find somebody else."

***

He dreams of black cats. Of Hel. Of feeling like the smallest man on earth while the Bifrost splinters before him and takes away the bridge to everything he loves.

It's been six days without a knock on his door. He shouldn't care that it's been this long - he doesn't, he constantly tells himself but keeps replaying their last conversation while the teeth of Fenrir sink into his lungs. He saved her - is that why she let him fuck her? Because she felt obligated to? Because of debt? It makes his heart burn.

"Loki."

He looks up at his brother and blinks a few times. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten he was even there. "...What?"

"You're not listening."

"Yes, yes I was," he racks his brain for the last details he'd registered from Thor's gripping tale, but suspects he's been zoned out for at least five minutes.

Thor knits his eyebrows together, tilts his head disgustingly compassionately. "You're quiet," he states flatly and looks almost concerned. It makes the hairs on the back of Loki's neck prickle. He misses when Thor was less intuitive - before the Avengers, when all he cared about were tits and battle and wielding that stupid hammer.

"I don't remember asking your opinion."

"Just stating the obvious," Thor shrugs and thankfully goes back to the lamb chop on his plate, "one thing being that you're usually plotting something when you're this quiet - though something tells me your head is somewhere completely different as of late."

"Well if you want to keep yours connected to the rest your body, I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

His brother leans in close and looks as if he's about to say something vulgar. "It's her again, isn't it?" he whispers as if he doesn't dare speak her name.

"Thor," Loki warns with a sharp side-eye.

"You can tell me."

"I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because you're being nosey."

"Can't I take an interest in my brother's well-being?"

"No. Now shut it!"

"I think she likes you."

It hurts more than he's willing to admit. "Thor!"

"But I do!"

"Shut up!"

He doesn't listen; "are you in love with her?"

A burning sea of vulnerability washes over him right in front of his brother's eyes while he desperately treads water. "She should be so lucky!" Loki hisses as a reflex and immediately feels his stomach churn when his brother grins and lifts his eyebrows in amusement.

"You are!"

Loki points his knife towards Thor, angrier than he's been in a while. "I'm only going to say this once! Stick your nose in my business and I will end you!”

***

They're on a mission in Vienna when Loki's knocked unconscious.

He doesn't remember much apart from an object hitting him on his upper back, a scream of his name - and suddenly, he's back on the rumbling quinjet with a splitting head ache.

He awakes with a groan and coughs up something black and slimy that he immediately spits out on the floor. Charming.

He's dizzy and he's seeing double but he wishes it was his sense of smell that was wonky because he can almost taste his brother's armpits in the air and it's revolting.

"Thor," his voice is hoarse and he coughs again while trying to remember how he ended up here. "What the hell happened?"

With difficulty, he tries lifting his head but is immediately pushed backwards by a hand already resting on his shoulder.

"You hit your head," his brother mumbles from beside him, "I had to carry you back here."

"Well that's embarrassing," Loki mumbles and tries moving his head again but hisses when his neck tenses painfully.

"Lie still," a small voice beckons. It's lighter than his brother's; more delicate, feminine, and the well-known flip of his insides shows its ugly face. Small fingers gently rub his shoulder and first then does he realise that it's not his brother's hand that's resting on his body.

"You're here?" He asks, confused while trying to focus on a spot in the ceiling. "And here I thought we were busy ignoring each other."

"I can keep doing so if you want me to," she says defiantly but sits completely still.

"Be my guest!"

"...Erm," Thor clears his throat in second-hand embarrassement, stands up from his position on the floor and points over his shoulder, "I have to - uh - be over... there."

Smooth.

The fingers that are resting on Loki's body feel more intimate now that they're alone, and he wonders if she can feel it too because she slowly retracts her hand although he wishes she wouldn't. A painful reminder of how she feels.

"Why are you here?" he bites.

"Thor was completely out of it," she says hesitantly, "He thought you were dead. He needed me."

"Thor needed you?” He scoffs, “Well, Thor's not here now so I guess you can leave."

She sighs loudly, "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Yes," he lies. He can still feel the warm spot that her fingers have left behind on his shoulder. It's getting colder now. "You made things quite clear the other day. It was a casual accquaintance, nothing else. There's really no need for you to pity me like this."

"You're hurt."

"I'm hurt? Yes I'm fucking hurt! It feels as if a bloody wall fell on me!"

"That's not what I meant..."

He moves his head through the pain, focuses on her the best he can. "Are you seriously fishing for a compliment right now?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want me to admit to whatever it is you're implying? It won't happen because contrary to your belief, I'm not in love with you." Another lie. "I saved you, you let me fuck you. We're even."

"That's not..." she starts but doesn't end her sentence. Her chest is heaving in heavy pants but she's not saying anything and the tension is thick again. She looks defiant but there's something she's not telling him.

"Was there something else?"

"No, I-"

"Then tell me what happened to my head or be on your way."

"I don't know what happened," she mumbles and gets up from the floor without sparing him a glance. "I wasn't there."

***

"It's a concussion," the new Doctor states the obvious and Loki has to contain himself from rolling his eyes.

"Great, can I go now?" He feels vulnerable enough without the diagnosis, and he's already half-way out the door - away from the prying eyes of the rest of the team.

"Hold up, mr Odinson," the Doctor says and the name feels like another dagger in his back. Loki wants to strangle him. "In your condition, it's important to take precautions."

"Don't tell me we have to start pampering him now!" Stark huffs and Loki's about to snarl something nasty back at him when Thor interrupts:

"Like what, Doctor?"

The Doctor turns back to Loki. "To prevent your condition from worsening, it's important that you take it easy for a couple of days. No TV, no straining exercise. You need rest."

"Right..."

"That being said, you have to make sure you're woken up every two hours. Have someone ask you a simple question like your full name, your birthday, the name of your home town."

"My home town?" He sighs. He doesn't want to think of Asgard right now. He feels lonely enough as it is.

"Something like that," the Doctor brushes it off with a shrug. "Do you have someone who can help you?"

"I assure you, that won't be necessary," Loki tries impatiently. He wants to get out of there. "After all, I am a God."

He can practically hear her rolling her eyes from behind him before she speaks up. "It's fine, Doc," she sighs, "I'll do it."

***

They're lying side by side on his mattress. It's three in the morning and it's the first time she's even in his room for anything other than sex. It's not not pleasant to be lying side by side in the dark, it's just different and neither of them know what to say. He doesn't like that she volunteered. He would've preferred dying in his sleep over the roaring silence.

He sneaks a quick peak at her beauty and accidentally lets out a sigh he thought only Thor was capable of and it seems to bring her to life.

She blinks and rolls over to her side, looks at him with distance in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy..." he admits though he's not exactly sure if it's due to the concussion or being this close to her again.

"You should sleep," she says so achingly caring that it itches in his fingers to reach out and touch her. "- I'll make sure to wake you up every couple of hours and see if everything's okay."

He nods. "Sounds like you're in for a long night."

She gently shrugs and rolls onto her back again, stares back up at the ceiling. Her chest is rising and falling steadily and he doesn't understand how she can be so calm about the situation when it feels as if everything inside of him is burning with longing.

"Why did you volunteer?" the words tumble from his mouth without having been thought all the way through. "Why not just let Thor do it? He's my brother after all. He would've."

She chews her bottom lip, stares upwards as if stargazing. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She sounds sincere and he cannot help the furrow of his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Why?" She asks slowly, hesitantly. "Well... you've seemed out of it lately.”

"And you think it's your fault," it comes out more like a sour statement rather than a curious question so he's surprised to see pain behind her eyes when she finally turns her attention back on him.

"I know it is."

"Don't flatter yourself. I already told you it was merely sex for me. It didn't mean anything," he lies and regrets he even asked her in the first place. He wants to sleep. To get everything overwith and not stay in this moment of torture with her lying in his bed, rejecting him. Again.

"Come on," she sighs, "can't we just be honest for once?"

"You say that as if you've been dishonest...?"

"I guess I have," she hesitates and for once, he actually holds his tongue while she considers her next words. "I - uh - I get defensive when people get to close," she shuffles and looks away in embarrassement. "I guess it was easier to just push you away than admit to either of us what was going on. I tried telling you on the quinjet,” she slowly turns her gaze back on him with her eyes darting across his face. His heart picks up its pace.

"What are you saying?"

"Loki," she sighs and closes her eyes again. Speaks so painfully slowly that he almost cannot take it. "- you got close... When you slowed down and loved me that night, I - I felt it all. What I've been trying to deny."

"Felt what?" He tries as slowly as his racing pulse will allow him to speak. He doesn't want to scare her away again by assuming anything.

"I like you," she finally admits. "A lot."

Surprisingly, he's not even relieved. With the rollercoaster he's been through since he first met her, he's not sure he dares believe it, and a few seconds of silence follow between them while he carefully contemplates and chooses his next words.

On her request, he finally decides on telling her the truth. "I guess it wouldn't be too surprising if I admitted to the same thing."

She moves her head a little closer to him and places her hand between them. The smallest hint of a smile is playing on her lips. "Not really..."

A stab of a reminding thought pinches him beneath his ribs and he has to ask her. "You're not just saying this because you think you owe it to me, are you?" he nods to the scar on her shoulder "because I saved your life."

"No?" she furrows her eyebrows, searches his face.

"I don't want you to feel indebted to me. Despite what I told you back then, there were no ulterior motives to my actions. You don't owe me anything. I just did it to save you. I just wanted you to be okay.”

"Loki, I don't feel indebted," she lightly shakes her head. She looks sincere. "- do you really not remember what happened in Vienna?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Not really. An object hitting me in the back and someone yelling my name. Otherwise nothing."

"I did the yelling," she gulps, "and that object? That was a hand grenade."

"A hand grenade?"

She nods. Her eyes never leave his face. "You, me and Thor had just entered the grand hall of the embassy when it happened. You'd strayed off to the side to admire some painting."

It sounds like him.

"- I was behind you and saw it happen. It landed before your feet and without thinking, I just... lurched. Grabbed you and hurled the two of us forwards. You hit a stone column head-first."

He pulls back his head in surprise when he realises. “…you saved my life?”

It makes his blood pressure drop.

"Don't say it like that," she whispers with her breath fanning over his knuckles. "I merely gave you a concussion. The grenade turned out to be a squib after all."

"You didn't know that," he moves a little closer to her. She saved him and she's still here, still lying in his bed. It's not out of debt, he realises. Not at all. She's there because she wants to. "Darling... I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," she mumbles and opens her palm as if to welcome him. "Just kiss me, okay? I've missed you."

Everything inside of him goes soft. He feels squishy and warm and comfortable, and he could look at her forever.

He extends his fingers, engulfs her small hand inside his and dismisses the tension of his neck until their lips finally meet.

It's the gentlest they've ever kissed; lips barely touching, but it's the most heartfelt, the most sincere.

"I'm sorry for how I acted," she mumbles quietly against his mouth. "I really, really like you. I wasn't sure how to deal with that."

"It's okay," he whispers back, "we've all done things we're not proud of."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," he smiles softly and reclaims her lips with the hope that he can show her exactly how crazy he is about everything that is her. His angry Avenger, his fiery goddess.

She saved him.

He feels the emotions pour out of both of them as their kiss deepens and he swears he can feel the allfathers blessing him as he jumps head-first into the burning sun; he can run with the wolves, fly with the ravens. And if Hugin and Munin are watching him from the great beyond, they'll tell all of Asgard that he, Loki Laufeyson, was worthy enough to be saved by a Valkyrie.