#trying to get better at my own pace but its exhausting

[the-kipsabian]

my sleep schedule is so utterly fucked hurray

[misswynters]

Tamed Targaryen Heart

Aemond Targaryen x fem!wife! reader

[warnings: pregnancy, difficult birth

[word count: 1.1k

[a/n: maybe i will turn this into a series…

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The dimly lit chamber was filled with the scent of lavender and the muffled sound of Aemond Targaryen’s pacing footsteps. He glanced over at you, lying on the bed, sweat beading on your forehead as you gripped the bed sheets tightly. Your two sons, Aerys and Daeron, were asleep in their chambers, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that you were enduring.

“Aemond,” you groaned, your voice strained with frustration and pain, “I can’t take this anymore. This girl is taking her sweet time.”

Aemond moved swiftly to your side, his single eye filled with concern. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your face. “You are strong, my love. She will come when she is ready.”

“I’m tired of waiting!” you snapped, your patience long gone. “I just want her out. Now!”

The midwives and nurses exchanged wary glances but kept their focus on preparing for the birth. Your irritation was palpable, and the tension in the room thickened with each passing moment.

“Why don’t we try going for a walk?” you suggested suddenly, struggling to sit up. “Maybe that will help get things moving.”

Aemond hesitated. “Are you sure that’s wise? Perhaps we should bring one of the nurses.”

“No,” you insisted, your eyes blazing with determination. “Just you and me. I need to get out of this room.”

Aemond nodded, knowing better than to argue when you were in this state. He helped you to your feet, supporting you as you made your way out of the chamber and into the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The familiar halls were quiet, the stillness broken only by the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant murmur of guards on patrol.

As you walked, Aemond kept a steadying arm around your waist, his presence a comforting anchor. “What shall we name her?” he asked softly, hoping to distract you from the pain.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, leaning heavily on him. “I haven’t been able to think of anything that feels right.”

“How about Visenya?” Aemond suggested, his voice thoughtful. “After the conqueror queen.”

You shook your head. “That’s a cursed name. Even so, it doesn’t fit. She needs a name that’s isn’t so common.” You continued your slow pace, Aemond offering more suggestions: Rhaella, Alysanne, Naerys. Each name was met with a thoughtful pause, then a gentle shake of your head.

Finally, as you turned a corner, you stopped abruptly. “Aemond, what about Aelora?”

“Aelora,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “Aelora Targaryen. It’s beautiful.”

You smiled faintly, a glimmer of excitement breaking through your exhaustion. “Aelora it is.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain gripped you, and you doubled over with a cry. Aemond’s grip tightened as he steadied you. “What is it?”

A pool of water began to form as it dripped down your leg. “My water just broke,” you gasped, clutching your swollen belly. “Its time now…she likes the name Aelora.” You slightly chuckled in pain.

Panic and excitement surged through Aemond as he helped you back towards your chambers, shouting for the midwives as you neared. The nurses rushed to your side, guiding you back to the bed and preparing for the final stages of labor.

The next few hours were a blur of pain and struggle. You gripped Aemond’s hand tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you fought to bring your daughter into the world. Aemond stayed by your side, whispering words of encouragement and love, his own heart aching to see you in such pain.

“Come on, my love,” he urged softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. “You can do this. She’s almost here.”

“I can’t,” you cried out, tears streaming down your face. “It hurts too much.”

“You can,” he insisted, his voice firm but gentle. “You are the strongest woman I know. Just a little more.”

With one final, agonizing push, a wail filled the room, and your daughter was born. You collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing with relief and exhaustion. Aemond’s eye shone with pride and joy as the midwife placed the tiny, crying bundle into your arms.

“Look, Aemond,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “She’s finally here. Our little Aelora.”

Aemond gazed down at the newborn, his heart swelling with love. He gently touched the baby’s cheek, awed by the miracle in his arms. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You did it, my love. You brought her into the world.”

You held Aelora close, tears of happiness mingling with the sweat on your face. Aemond wrapped his arms around both of you, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his face.

Once the midwives had cleaned and tended to both you and the baby, Aemond and you made your way to your sons’ chambers, eager to introduce them to their baby sister. Aerys and Daeron, roused from their sleep, looked up in wonder as their parents entered with the tiny bundle.

“This is your sister, Aelora,” Aemond said softly, kneeling down to their level. “Say hello.”

Aerys, the elder of the two, reached out a tentative hand to touch his sister’s tiny fingers. “She’s so small,” he whispered in awe.

Daeron, younger but no less curious, leaned in to peer at the baby. “Can we hold her?”

“Of course,” you said, carefully transferring Aelora into Aerys’s waiting arms. The boys’ faces lit up with joy as they cradled their sister, their excitement infectious.

Aemond watched his family with a sense of profound contentment, a rare, unguarded smile gracing his lips. For this moment, all was right in their world. His heart swelled with love and pride, knowing that together, he had a beautiful family. And so, in the heart of the Red Keep, surrounded by the warmth of your family, you both welcomed your daughter into the world. Your hearts full of hope and love for the days to come.

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

banner by: @cafekitsune

[azrielbrainrot]

Hot Blooded

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cuddle for Warmth

Description: You and Eris have to keep each other warm when you find yourselves stuck in a cabin during a snow storm.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, dirty talk

Word Count: ~2,4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This was initially supposed to be a temperature play focused story but it turned into this instead, I hope that's okay!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Walking into a small cabin in the middle of nowhere after being stuck in the snow for hours only to find all of the windows were broken and there were holes in the ceiling felt like a cruel joke. If you were alone you might have even cried at how frustrated you felt. You were beyond freezing, the wet clothes you wore only making it worse, and exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Just as you were preparing yourself to walk back out and brave the storm, Eris closes the door behind him and makes his way to the middle of the room, studying his surroundings. There really wasn't much to see, just an old couch missing most of its pillows and broken pieces of wood. If you gathered them it might have been enough to start a fire, especially with his powers, but since the windows couldn't keep the wind out there would be no use in even trying.

“Eris,” you call out, waiting for the Autumn Court heir to look up at you, “We can't stay here.”

“Why not?”

He asks so dismissively that it takes you a few moments to recover. In the meantime he keeps pacing around the room, picking up a blanket that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. Maybe the cold was messing with his brain or something.

“I'm not made of fire. I will freeze to death,” you explain slowly as if you were talking to a child.

“I can't keep a fire going in here either,” he continues your line of thought, at least letting you know the cold wasn't affecting his thinking skills, “but we can't keep going until the snow storm slows down.”

A defeated sigh escapes you. While it was true that going back out there was out of the question since it was only a matter of time before your body gave out, staying here wasn't much better, you can already feel your body getting colder from standing still.

“Are you sure you can't winnow out?” You already knew the answer, your own power being denied to you, but you can't help asking just to make sure.

“Yes, I can barely access my powers as is,” he responds, sighing like you were a petulant child, “Whatever ward was set around this place is extremely powerful.”

“I thought you were supposed to be extremely powerful too,” you bite back.

Eris simply rolls his eyes, not even attempting to argue with you. This meant he had to be even more exhausted than you initially thought, or he wouldn't have let you get away with that comment. You watch as he throws the old blanket he found to a corner, the one where the air coming from the broken windows didn't hit as intensely, surprising you even more when he takes off his thick jacket right after.

“What are you doing?”

“This blanket won't be too much help in this situation,” he says as if it explained why he was taking his clothes off in the middle of a snow storm.

“Then why are you stripping? That's going to make it worse.” You move closer to him, raising your hands, debating if you should stop him from unbuttoning his shirt during what had to be some sort of manic episode.

“Our best bet right now is keeping each other warm through our body heat,” he starts, watching your face go through a myriad of emotions with amusement, “Like you said, my body is made of fire so to speak. I'll keep you warm.”

This made sense, you knew that, in fact you were a bit ashamed you didn't immediately think of it, but as he takes off his shirt slowly your thoughts scatter. By the time you manage to get your body to start moving, Eris had already stripped down to his underwear, placed his damp clothes over the couch to hopefully dry, and sat on the corner, covering himself with the blanket.

He looks up at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly when you simply stare back. “I don't want to rush you, sweetheart, but if you don't hurry we will actually freeze to death.”

Swallowing and averting your eyes, you reach for your jacket, taking it off and placing it next to the rest of his clothes. You can't help but hesitate as you hold onto the hem of your shirt, unable to ignore the amber eyes burning into you.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper.

“Seriously?” He asks with a chuckle, complying with your request all the same, eyes already closed when he adds, “Didn't take you to be this shy.”

You usually weren't, definitely wouldn't be when it came to a situation concerning life or death such as this one, but the mostly naked person in front of you was Eris, the infuriatingly beautiful male who could get under your skin like no one else.

The moment his shirt started coming off, you were reminded of a party a few years ago, where both of you had gotten lost in your drinks and shitty lives and forgot that you were supposed to hate each other, making out right outside the bar. No matter how many years passed you still could feel his warm hands holding onto your waist, lifting you up against the wall, and the taste of his lips on yours.

Dropping the rest of your clothes over the couch, you move to him, the shivers running up and down your body not all caused by the icy wind whistling through the windows. Lingering in front of him for only a second before turning around and sitting in his lap, trying not to think about the fact that his bare skin was pressed against yours.

His hands fall on your waist as soon as he feels you in front of him, helping you get settled in silence, but he only opens his eyes after the blanket is draped over your body.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were both reminded of that same night, and maybe of all the others where a simple word or touch could have triggered the same reaction. You were getting warmer already without the cold clothes clinging to you, and while you hadn't meant it literally, it did feel like his body was made of fire as your cold skin lay against his chest. You don't know if he was using his magic to warm himself up further but it was making you melt into him.

“We shouldn't have come without backup,” you whisper, adjusting so you weren't leaning on his shoulder so much, the silence between you making you far too aware of your position. In truth, you barely remembered why you were there in the first place at this point, but you needed to say something.

“There was no one else I could trust,” he says, one of his arms wrapping around your middle, chest rumbling against your back as he spoke, “at least we know for certain something is hiding here or there wouldn't be any need for such a barrier in the middle of the mountain.”

You hum in response, not knowing what else to say, trying to sit up straighter again when you feel him tense up against you and his hold on your body tightening. At first you thought you could have hurt him, but when he doesn't say anything else or move again, you turn your head around in question, only feeling something poking against your backside when you meet his amber eyes.

“You need to stop moving,” he murmurs, half lidded eyes staring back into yours.

Swallowing around a dry throat, you turn back around, staring into the furthest wall and trying your best to distract yourself, counting down the seconds and imagining yourself sitting at a chair instead of on the lap of Eris fucking Vanserra. Trying to remember why you ever hated him in the first place, replaying in your head all the times you annoyed each other, all the petty fights and vile words you spit at each other. Your efforts are all in vain though, a different kind of heat manifesting itself in the pit of your stomach, especially as you're also reminded of all the times he was there for you, of the reason you had come to the middle of nowhere at his request with no questions asked.

A curse escapes him, head falling back to hit the wall behind you as both his and your scents start thickening, to the point even the icy wind circulating around the room couldn't mask it. You can't be sure what was going through his head, but you can almost hear his control snapping before he lays his hand over your stomach, pulling you closer into him, warm palm sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Eris,” you whisper, whether telling him to stop or keep going you weren't sure.

He shushes you, lips finding the side of your neck at the same time his hand moves lower, quickly finding the hem of your panties, warm fingers moving side to side just above it, making you tremble as they awaken your frostbitten skin. “We have to wait until the storm settles anyway. Why don't we make up for some lost time?”

“Lost time?” Eris hums behind you, the vibration rumbling under your skin.

“Haven't been able to stop thinking about that night even after all this time,” he starts, hand moving under your panties, quickly finding your clit and rolling it between his fingers, purring at the little noises escaping you. “If we hadn't been interrupted I would have fucked you right there.” He throws one of your legs over his so he could spread your thighs more, inserting a finger into you slowly as his other hand moves under your bra, teasing your nipple softly. “Fuck, I've been thinking about this ever since I first layed eyes on you.”

Your moans rise in tempo as he fucks you slowly, warming you up from the inside. Part of you was convinced you had actually fainted in the snow and were simply stuck in a weirdly realistic dream, but this wouldn't have been the first time he showed up in your dreams and they never felt quite like this.

His warm hands felt heavenly against your still too cold body, and the little kisses and bites he was leaving around your neck were driving you absolutely insane. You were also not surprised that even in this situation he couldn't keep his smart mouth shut, the sinful words he whispered in your ear only sending you further into madness, hips moving into his hand, grinding back into his hard cock at the same time.

A familiar knot starts coiling itself deep inside you, a whine of his name escaping before you reach for his hand and stop him. Just as he freezes and goes to ask what was wrong, you turn in his arms, kissing him before he has the chance to. You'd been craving his touch for so long that you wanted to do this properly, needed to see him and touch him, needed to taste him again.

He kisses you back immediately, hands falling to your waist as you straddle him, one hand reaching between your bodies to find his hard cock, swallowing the moan he lets out, both uncaring of the blanket falling around you.

The way he was fucking up into your hand, his own gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, almost makes you want to watch him fall apart under you like this, but you needed him too much, the same frenzy you had felt that night all those years ago returning, except you couldn't blame the alcohol this time.

You lift your hips and line his cock with your entrance as he pushes your panties to the side, staring into each other's eyes as you slowly lower yourself on him, moaning out at how deliciously he stretches you out.

Pulling you back down for a kiss, he starts guiding your hips up and down his cock, your hands getting lost in his silky hair, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage, nails biting into his skin as pleasure overtakes all your senses. You couldn't even feel the cold against your heated skin, it could have started snowing inside the house and you probably wouldn't have stopped.

He was right you needed to make up for lost time, you can't believe you've been missing out in this, on him. Eris pulls away so he can watch you, blown out eyes staring into yours like he could find salvation in your gaze.

“Don't stop, doll.” You moan out at the pet name, at his deep voice begging you to keep going. “Need to feel you cum around my cock.”

As much as you usually hate taking orders from him, this one you were more than happy to follow, speeding despite the way your muscles ached, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure, in the feeling of his warm skin against yours, in the way his teeth sank into your skin as he chased his own high.

It crashes over you, taking your breath away as you both cling on to each other, curses and moans of his name escaping your lips, grinding into him until sensitivity has you trembling. He pulls you in for another kiss, savoring each other's taste and warmth, leaning his forehead against yours as he whispers, “I'm not letting you get away this time.”

You let out a sigh, pecking his lips again, eyes fluttering open, leaning back so you can watch him. One of your hands reaches to cup his cheek, the vulnerability in his eyes almost taking your breath away. Eris Vanserra always wore a mask, a cruel and twisted mask that had been meticulously crafted over the centuries, and as much as you've caught glimpses behind it, you had never seen him so open.

“I'm not going anywhere, Eris,” you promise, letting him kiss you again.

You spend the rest of the night cuddling under that blanket, so wrapped up in whispered confessions and sweet promises that neither of you notices the snow had stopped falling and the first rays of sunrise were already filtering in through the clouds.

[maopll]

Could I request Kaeya, Diluc, Childe and Zhongli's (separate) s/o laying them down on her lap and playing with the boys' hair when their exhausted?

Put your head on my heart

#genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: its boutta feel like heaven once I scratch their heads I'm being dead serious...hopefully there's no dandruff...

⌗:, pairings: khaenri'ahn, weird grown up, snezhnaya's greatest toymaker, fossil w/ gn!reader (separately)

⌗:, note: I wanted to post smth before I went to school so pls take it with a grain of salt (low effort work)

— ୨୧ KAEYA

"Ahh...that's feels great" Kaeya mumbled drowsily against your lap.

"You're having real fun by having me at your beck and call huh?" You playfully said as you pressed one spot on his forehead a little harder.

"Ow ow ow gently I'm very feeble" He smirked while looking you with half his eyes closed. It looks like the exhaustion really creeped up to him. He's not one who easily shows through his demeanor how much overworked or even exhausted he is.

To others he may seem like how he usually does but the slight change in his personality spoke words to you. The past week he became sluggish and even fell asleep at the most odd places.

Thus you took it upon your hands to lay him down on your lap and forcibly make him achieve that deserved slumber that he really needed.

"It's not right to overwork yourself so much Kaeya..." your voice sounded like one of worry. Kaeya knew how you felt and...he can't really disagree with you. "I'll be careful next time lovely"

"Oh, you better! you're trying to shave years of my life here with how much you're overworking yourself!" You smack his head. He laughed, seeing you worry so much, and said "aww I'm sorry," all while having a shit eating grin on his face as he smothered your face with his kisses to make you stop worrying. "You have my oath as a knight, my dove" he says so while sealing the words with a kiss on the back of your hand in quite the knightly fashion.

— ୨୧ DILUC

It's way past midnight. The workers and the Maids of the Manor are enjoying the honey heavy dew of slumber while you paced back and forth in your own room's veranda as you stared far into the vineyards to even catch a glimpse of your lover. It's not unusual for Diluc to return late, but it's even more unusual when he hasn't come back after the clock struck 2 a.m.

"Where is he?" Your worries grew like a rapid fire. You tried to calm your nerves by telling yourself "it's alright..." when your ears perked up with the creak of the front door. After some time, you saw Diluc emerge from the shadows with his red hair looking particularly vibrant under the moonlight.

"Gosh, you had me worried there dear..." you strode towards him. "Yes...it looks like I kept you awake and worried for a long time? apologies..." as he sounded those words, his voice grew tired and low as his eyes nearly closed from how drowsy he was. You frowned at this sight of him. So you held his hand gently and guided him towards your bed to let him get that well deserved rest since he looked as if he would flop flat on the ground if you did not let him fall on the bed sooner.

You guided his head towards your lap and ruffled his red locks gently. "I'll help you sleep quicker, Diluc. So just close your eyes now" with a peck to his forehead, you put your hands softly over his eyes. "Thank you...love"

— ୨୧ CHILDE

"Childe...I don't think this is that right place to do this..."

And yes it wasn't. He decided to go out fishing in Dragonspine with you because he said, "I miss the way me and my family used to fish in Snezhnaya" all puppy eyed and stuff. You're always the one who says yes to anything he says but maybe...maybe this time you should've said no...

"But babe I'm tired! won't you let me rest my head on your lap?" so he said when he is literally a harbinger. Him running out of stamina and being exhausted? impossible that's something that will happen in an alternate universe. He just needed a sorry excuse to feel the warmth your thigh emitted because he just couldn't get enough of those.

"Childe I'm not saying that you can't lay on my lap but we are out in the middle of nowhere in adeserted frosty mountain!" You screamed to him while he just jumped up with excitement, "Oh look! I caught a Snowstrider! Great catch!"

"Oh my archons...are we done yet?" you said impatiently because the cold was getting to you. "Aww but I was thinking about catching a few more...alright let's go home now"

You noticed the tone drop in his voice. Looks like he really missed those eventful days of his. So with a sigh and a forgiving smile on your face you agreed to his whims, "Nevermind it's alright, you can fish as much as you want we can go after some time"

Oh what a sight it was when his eyes literally sparkled with joy and the way his ears perked up hearing your words of affirmation. "Thanks babe! Watch me catch the biggest one for you!"

Oh it's going to be a long day...

— ୨୧ ZHONGLI

The vibrant kites were visible from the small window of your house. Lantern Rite comes every year with a new surprise yet even before the preparations are completed before the event, the hustle and bustle of the people as they scurried to prepare meticulously for the biggest event was a joy that could never eb expressed in words.

So here you were. Atop a hill overseeing the entirety of Liyue Harbour with your lover resting on you lap as you played with his hair as soft as the silk flowers and as fragrant as qingxins.

"Do you like the view Zhongli?" you quietly asked, keeping the comforting silence that prevailed amidst the two of you. "As always. Mortals and their customs have never ceased to amaze me." He hummed lowly as you scratched that one spot of his head. He had those areas on his head which felt better than the other places because...he's a dragon after all.

He looked up at you through his lashes and spoke, "Once the Liyue Harbour is decorated, let us visit Mount Aocang to give those old friends a little greeting." You smiled at how much he cared for those who lived along with him. "Sure let's do that"

[houseofanticipation]

You've always been an outdoor person. You're a camper, a hiker, an explorer. You feel at home in this forest; miles upon miles of trees in every direction, the only hints of civilization a handful of campgrounds and the odd ranger station. Years of experience have made you comfortable here, in the cool, quiet air.

Maybe too comfortable.

It's late morning when you first notice someone behind you on the trail. You don't see them when you look back. You just their footsteps, the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves. You expect them to pass you, as you're taking a pretty leisurely pace, but the footsteps always seem to be about 20 feet behind you. You start to get annoyed. This person's thousand-pound feet are ruining your nice, quiet walk. You step to the side of the trail and wait the person to pass.

And so do they.

That makes you nervous. You start walking again, and they walk with you. You stop, they stop. You begin to think you might be in trouble. Careful to keep the noise at you front, you take the folded trail map out of your pocket and begin to scan it. There's a ranger station not far ahead; if you can just make it that far, you might be safe.

You break into a brisk walk, and your pursuer keeps pace. This trail was made intentionally with a lot bends in it, so each hiker or group of hikers could feel like the wilderness was their own, without running into many other people. It means your pursuer can stay relatively close to you without ever entering your line of sight. You're close now, you recognize the little footbridge over this creek, so you break into a run, skidding on mud and dried leaves as you make a mad dash for safety. The footsteps crash through the forest behind you, and you're too afraid to turn around but you're sure they're gaining on you. You see the ranger station up ahead, a little log cabin with a green door, and you practically fly up the front steps, through the unlocked door. You slam it shut behind you and throw the deadbolt, sliding down the door in a mess of exhaustion and nerves.

The ranger station consists of a single room, with a ladder up to a small loft space where the ranger sleeps. You were hoping to find help, but the ranger isn't here at the moment. That's okay. Just the locked door on its own makes you feel a lot better. You listen intently for any sound outside, but all you hear is birdsong, and wind through the trees.

Then someone is trying to turn the door handle. The sound makes you jump, but you try to stay brave. You're still safe. They can't get in.

You hear a man's voice on the other side of the door. "Hello?"

You summon your courage and call back. "Leave me alone! What do you want from me?"

The voice sounds surprised. "I...I don't want anything from you ma'am. It's just...well, you're kind of in my office." You get to your hands and knees and crawl to the front window, just peeking over the sill. Outside is a flustered looking man in a ranger uniform. Relief floods your body. You let him in.

"Thank god," he says. "I'm not supposed to leave the station unlocked, I thought at first some teenagers had gotten in here and...hey, what's wrong?" He's seen the look in your eyes, the way you're still panting, the state of your hair. You explain to him about the footsteps, the chase through the woods, how you hid here for safety. His eyes grow wider with your every word. "Shit, that's terrible. Drink some water, get yourself hydrated while I check around out there." He offers you his canteen. You begin to tell him you have your own water, but he waves you off. "No, no, I can't let you use your own rations. I've got extra water reserves here just for unprepared hikers, I won't run out. Please."

You take the canteen and drink, sitting on a hard folding chair while the ranger goes back outside. Now that you think about it, you're actually incredibly thirsty. You finish off the ranger's canteen, and feel a little bad about it, but he seemed insistent that you should have it.

You're exhausted. It had already been a long day of hiking, and then you went and spent the rest of your energy running through the forest. You were probably overreacting, you think as your eyelids begin to droop. Maybe it was just an illusion, your own footsteps somehow echoed back to you by the forest. In the warmth and safety of the ranger station, the fear you felt before seems almost silly.

Your limbs feel sluggish and disconnected. Your head seems to be full of rocks. Your eyelids fall closed, and you're out before you hit the floor.

You come to little by little, slowly becoming aware of several odd sensation at once. The first thing you notice is that you feel good. Incredible, actually. You're having trouble wrapping your head around why exactly—you're having trouble putting thoughts together, connecting raw sensation to ideas or meanings. But you like how you're feeling, you know that much.

There's more to it though, because you also hurt, which you don't like. There's something rough pressing up against your back, and your arms and legs are sore. You're cold, too, colder than you've been in a long time, and a cool wind stings your bare skin. Why is your skin bare?

You open your eyes. You're in a forest clearing, a place you recognize. It's a popular camping spot, secluded but not far from the trail. You're on a tree—tied to it, you realize, that's the rough thing on your back, and the reason you're so sore. Coils of rope around your wrists are pulling your arms up and behind you, like you're giving the tree a backwards hug. Something similar is happening with your legs, and a rope across your throat is keeping you from pointing your head down.

You are naked.

The ranger is there, leaning into you, and for a confused moment you think he's trying to untie you, but then the whole picture suddenly falls into place. He is raping you, slowly and indulgently, moaning openly as he slides cock up and down, in and out of your pussy. Fear jolts you awake, your fight-or-flight response taking control, but you you have no way to fight and now means of fleeing. You begin to scream, thrashing against your bonds, but they're solid and secure. You're not going anywhere.

"Oh good you're...oh!...awake," says the ranger, still inside you. "I have to tell you, I thought you looked cute when I decided to follow you, but I had no idea you'd be this...o...oh, fuck...this good. I think you've got the tightest little cunt I've ever fucked."

Just because that pleasurable feeling isn't wanted anymore doesn't mean it's going away. With every thrust of the ranger's cock, the feeling builds inside you, threatening to spill over. "Please," you whimper. You can't cum, not here, not to this. "Please stop, let me go."

The ranger grins and looks at you. He gives you an extra deep thrust and you moan in spite of yourself, your muscles contracting and your pussy tightening around him. "Why would I...oh, fuck that's good...why would I stop when you're clearly enjoying this just as much as I am?"

Tears stream down your face. You can't control it now. Waves of tension wash your body, each one making you seize tighter, arching your back, straining your bonds. As the final wave crashes over you the ranger gives one last moan and buries his face in your neck, his cum seeming to warm your shivering body from the inside. You go limp, wobbly, all the tension draining from your body with the cum that spills forth as he withdraws his cock.

The ranger buckles up his pants and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck, girl. I can't just keep that cunt to myself. People need to know!" He goes behind you somewhere, and you can hear leaves rustle. When he comes back he holds a stake in his hand: a signpost, with a printed metal sign attached. He shows it to you:

Elk Trail Cum Dump

The park thanks you for your patronage. Feel free to use this receptacle as you see fit.

"I had this made up a few years back." Says the ranger as he hammers it into the ground in front of you. "We've had a handful of cum dumps, but I'll tell you what, you're definitely the best." He looks you up and down, then steps forward and sticks his middle and index fingers up inside you. You tighten reflexively, and he whistles. "Fuuuck me that's good! Alright, I'll probably be back tonight with some friends. New cum dump always attracts some attention. Stay tight, honey." He gives your cheek a little slap and walks away.

It hurts for a while. The bark against your skin. The ropes digging into you. Your shoulders, supporting your weight for so long. But after your sixth hour or so it all just fades into a general, dispassionate numbness.

People walk by sometimes. You hear them on the trail and call out for help. They come, usually but they don't help. A pair of young women laugh and take selfies with their fingers in your pussy. And old man rapes you breathlessly while is wife rolls her eyes and laughs good-naturedly. A middle aged woman with a big backpack says she's going to help you out, which turns out to mean producing a vibrator and giving you the most mind-melting, earth-shattering orgasm of your life, before saying a polite goodbye and leaving you tied up.

When your bladder gets full you just piss right there. It's not a bad way to do it, really; with your legs pulled back like this, you manage not to get much on you. You're a little more concerned about what happens when you need to shit, but you suppose there's a chance you can hold it until you die of hunger or thirst.

A man with a bushy beard gives you a long look before leaving and coming back with a long branch, one end whittled barkless and smooth. He inserts the smooth end into your pussy and sets the other end on the ground, held up only by your natural grip. He instructs you to bounce up and down on it while he masturbates. It's a little thick for you, but it actually feels pretty good, and you try to put on a good show for him as thanks. He lets you keep in there when he leaves, as a way to pass the hours.

You fall asleep just as the sun is setting. You find if you rest your head against the tree just so, you can relax without it falling forward and choking you on the rope across your neck. When you wake again it's full night, and someone has built a little fire in a circle of stones. A dozen or so men are lounging around, laughing, chatting, drinking beers out of a cooler. And raping you of course, but you barely even notice that now. All it really means to you is that someone took away your nice stick.

The ranger is among the men, though he's out of uniform. He raises a beer to you when he sees you're awake. "Welcome back to the land of the living! My buddies here are loving that little pussy of yours."

"You shouldn't have open flames out here," you croak, your throat dry. "You could start a...a...ah! Forest fire." Your sentence is interrupted when the man currently inside you does a strange sort of twisting thing you don't quite understand, and the jolt of pleasure takes you by surprise.

"Ah, fuck you," says the ranger. "Which of us here is the park ranger and which is the cum dump? I know my way around a fire."

"If you say so," you say as the man adds another load of cum to your collection.

He's drunk, you can tell. They're all a little drunk, their words a little slurred, their movements a little wobbly. As the next guy slides into you, you nod at the bottle in his hand. "Hey, let me get a little of that." He holds the bottle up to your lips obligingly, and while most of it splashes down your chin and across your breasts, you get a few good swigs in. It's a party, after all.

When everyone's had their turn on you the boys decide to play a game called "Hide the Herring," which turns out to consist of everyone scattering to find objects, and then taking turns trying to fit them inside you, the winner being the one with the largest object that manages to fit completely inside you. You get several different rocks, some sticks, big chunk of frozen together ice cubes, One guy tries to fit a full, unopened bottle of beer in you, fat end first. It stretches you almost to your limit but he manages, with a bit of clitoral stimulation, to get it all the way up to the neck. He says, "if you can hold on to it for ten seconds you can drink the whole thing," and you agree gamely to give it a try. He takes his hand away and the whole crowd counts down as you clench around this bottle, harder to do when you can't close your legs. You can feel it slipping, little by little, but when the count reaches zero it's still there, and you let it slip out into its owner's waiting hands. He cracks it open and holds it to your mouth, and you close your lips around it. You don't want to lost any like last time. The group is so impressed by the way you open your throat and let it drain into you that they give you another, and another after that. By the end of your fourth beer you're definitely feeling the alcohol, and the last of the fear and misery of the situation falls away like the last remnants of a lizard's skin. Being the Elk Trail Cum Dump, you guess, isn't so bad after all.

The winner of Hide the Herring ends up being a full ten pack of hot dogs. The entrant opens it up, uses two of the hot dogs to pack the wrapping into your pussy, and then spends about fifteen minutes cutting the other eight into pieces and popping them, one at a time, into your asshole. There's a lot of arguing about whether using your ass is allowed, or if it still counts as one object once the package is open, but it doesn't matter to you. Being filled this full feels amazing, and you manage to convince one of the guys to fuck you with your ass stuffed like this. Chunks of hot dog pop out of your ass, two and three at a time as you cum, and he leaves you dripping, feeling warm and gooey.

You get fucked a few more times as they set up camp for the night. Everyone's cum at least once by now, so the loads are getting a little thin, but that's okay. You feel as though you are melting into the tree, becoming a part of it. When you wake tomorrow, you imagine your arms and legs will have grown into its bark, your hair becoming leaves, your heart and lungs and mind becoming wood. Nothing more than a handful of tight wet holes for hikers and campers to enjoy. With this image glowing in your mind's eye, you drift off into a contented sleep.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Ew, Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The taxi lets you out just outside the darkened estate. Your heart lurches as you stand on the curb, the car slowly rolling away as you stand in a cone of light beneath a street pole. You stare up at the ominous facade with its cavernous windows.

You want to believe it was just a faulty wire or some anomaly but you have to be sure of it. The gate is locked, just as you were certain you left it. You key in the code and shut yourself in. The hedges and looming trees lendthe property an unearthly feel as you creep along, aided only by slivers of moonlight.

You stop and look down at the phone clutched in your hand. You search for the flashlight app and shine it ahead of you. By habit, you go around the back, even as the chirp of crickets and hum of the night adds to your foreboding.

The beep of each digit pressed into the keypad pierces the night. The electronic chime is unceremonious is the nocturnal din. Inside, there is a haze of light from just down the hallway. Did you leave it on or did someone else?

You turn off the light on the phone and drag up the call app instead. Just in case you need to call for help. You proceed without flipping any switches, careful not to make a noise as you advance. You reach the entryway and turn to face the glow emitting from the broad archway.

You hold your breath as dread bubbles up to your throat. You stop short as the clink of a glass cracks the silence. Mr. Laufeyson’s back is to you as he sets down the short tumbler, a stray droplet clinging to the brim. He rescinds his arm and wipes his mouth with his cuff.

You could sigh. It’s okay. He’s only come home early. It’s not some sinister intruder or covetous criminal. It is only him.

You could go and he’d never know of your foolish panic. You lean back on your heel as you tuck away your phone. He strides to the tall glass cabinet and presses the door so it releases. He pushes it open and drags out one of the dark bottles. You sidle backwards, stretching an arm out to feel around you.

“What are you doing here?” He sneers and stops you in your tracks.

You gulp and blink. Speechless. Caught.

“Yes, you,” he turns and uncaps the round-shouldered bottle.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I…” you sputter and step out of the shadows, “the alarm.”

He fills the glass and clunks the bottle down heavily, resting the cap on top but not sealing it. He swipes up the tumbler and brings it before his mouth. His green eyes sparkle like emeralds in the low light of a single lamp.

“And you came oh so quickly,” he scoffs.

You rub your lips together, uncertain what to say. He seems unhappy. His early return is likely for unpleasant reasons.

He swigs and strides, his free hand patting his thigh in agitation as he paces. He spins and retraces his steps, mouthing to himself. You peer down the hall and back at him. You feel you’ve walked in on a very private moment.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I’ll go,” you say.

“Hm, you do not want to stay?” He challenges as he halts and faces you, his sole scuffing sharply, “I’m certain this place is preferable to whatever sty you reside in.”

“I only came to make sure all is well–”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” He pauses to toss back the last of his drink, liquor by the looks of it. “Were you neglectful in your duties, mm? Shall I take inventory?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I was only… nevermind,” you shrug.

“Bah,” he waves you off and twists on his feet, once more strutting away. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he goes to stand by the mantel, tilting his head as he gazes along the ornaments. Just where the camera hides. “While you’re here, pour me another drink.”

You chew your lip and wring your hands as you come forward. You break the threshold of the den and near the round table beside the armchair. You peek at him as he toys with the globe, flicking it around with one finger.

“Do take your time,” he hisses.

You grab the bottle and lift the cap. You tip it carefully but still hit it against the top of the glass. The liquid glugs out and the scent rises to tinge your nostrils. You set the bottle down and take the glass, wondering how anyone can stomach it.

You go to him as he leans a hand on the mantel, his other on his hip as he huffs. He shakes his head at some irksome thought. You stand nearby but don’t dare disturb him. He frightens you as he turns and snatches the glass.

“You know,” he begins, stopping himself to drain half the glass, “the last thing I need to worry about is this place. I hired you for just that and I find you looking at me as if this house should be aflame.”

You look down and take a step back. He clucks and pivots, stomping around the sofa. You stay as you are, rigid and uneasy. The anger roils off of him and you are the only one there to hear it.

“My father… of course, couldn’t be happy for my visit. No, never is. I swear he must’ve despised my very birth,” he snarls, “but my brother, oh, he can do no wrong.”

He empties the last of the glass as you peer over your shoulder. He grips the glass tight and bares his teeth at it. His eyes are drawn to yours as if he can sense them.

“You’re still here,” he growls.

“Mr. Laufeyson, sorry, I–” you hurry around the other side of the sofa towards the door, “I was only–”

“No, no,” he stops you as he waves his palm, “another.”

He presents the glass in his other hand. You stare at it. There’s a cloudy tint in his eyes. As you approach, you hear him exhale. You take the glass and his fingers brush yours clumsily as he drops his arm. 

You look at the empty tumbler and back to him. You don’t know how much he’s had or how much more he should. You don’t drink but you suppose he wouldn’t need more than a few glasses.

“Are you sure you should–”

“Are you questioning me?” He snips.

“No, Mr. Laufeyson, I only… it’s late and you’ve been traveling–”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me,” he raises a finger to point in your face, “left alone for one day and you presume a bit much.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, not at all,” you swallow, “I will get you more–”

“No,” he grabs you before you can retreat, his hands on your shoulders, “why…”

His word dangles between you as his question remains unasked. Terror courses through you as he grips your shoulders tight, the size and strength of his hands locking you in place. You bat your lashes as you stare up at him. The liquor clings to his breath as it fans over you.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you squeak.

He holds on to you, almost trembling. He steps closer as he draws you in. He is almost hypnotised as he glares down at you. His hands slip away only to grasp the bulk of your hood instead, bunching it in his fists. He leans, teetering on his feet, looming over you.

You are trapped in your own shock. You cannot pull away, you can’t push him off, you can’t move. You’re horrified as you wonder what he’s thinking. As you fear what he might do next.

He is drunk, that isn’t a question, but is he dangerous?

“The light plays tricks on me,” he whispers before he lets you go, swaying as he turns and finds his way to the sofa. He flops down, leaning against the backrest. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You are correct, I am drunk.” He takes a breath and blows out with a groan, his lashes flicking open suddenly as he sits up, “go.”

You nod and put the glass beside the bottle. You march back to the archway and stop, glancing back at Mr. Laufeyson as he drops his head and cradles it in his hands. He looks almost pathetic as he slouches forward. 

“I said leave me,” he snaps without looking up, “now!”

🧹

The night is short and fruitless. Your sleep is splintered with anxiety and the morning sees you twitchy and uneasy. As you get ready to leave, you wonder if you should even bother. That rotten feeling in your gut assures you you’ll meet no different than the previous night.

Yet, Mr. Laufeyson hadn’t fired you. He only told you to leave and you can’t afford to give up, though for the first time, you're considering it. As Leslie gets your father’s coffee ready, you’re reminded that you can’t. No, he needs you, he is only too stubborn to admit it.

You set off as the knot in your stomach draws tighter. You don’t sit on the bus, instead standing as your nerves get the better of you. You rock, leaning into the motion of the bus and your stop comes too soon. You drag yourself off and shudder as you look down towards your fate.

You’re on time. Five minutes ahead of expected. The gate code works, that’s a good sign. Your usual trawl through the gardens is hazy and dull. You don’t notice the blue jay winging or the lady bugs crawling on the brick. You can only focus on what comes next. You’re completely blinded by the unknown.

Inside, the house is as empty as the day before. Not truly. You know Mr. Laufeyson will show himself eventually. You hang your bag and put on shoe covers and gloves. It’s Monday, a cleaning day.

You begin if only for the distraction. Down the hall, into the kitchen, room to room, until you reach the den. There is no sign of the previous night’s run-in. The bottle is neatly back in the cabinet with the rest, the short glass is gone, and all appears as it should be. So why does it feel so off?

You work through the room almost ritualistically. You have a pattern and you stick to it. The familiar has always been safest. 

As you near the table, something sparkles on the dark hardwood. You bend to pick up the small shard of glass, careful not to let it cut into your fingertips. You glance around to see if it broke off anything close by. No cracks, no chips. It’s clear and tiny. Almost indiscernible.

You cup it in your hand and take it to the kitchen to put in the bin. Something so small can cause a lot of pain. You shake off your palm and let the lid close.

“Ah, I see you are working hard,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice rolls through you.

You tense and turn slowly from the bin. You keep your head down as you cross the kitchen, “yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

As you try to pass the counter, where he stands, he steps out to block your path. You stop and back up, your gaze stuck to the tiles before his leather shoes. He stands close enough for his warmth to cloud around you.

“Coffee,” he states the single word and in an undeniable demand. 

He’s never asked for that before but you can figure it out. It must be a test. Or a lesson. He’s reminding you of your place. You can’t just barge in after hours, even if you are trying to help. Well, that’s the thing, he only wants the help he asks for so you better stop thinking so much.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

You turn and go to the cupboard. You don’t know where anything is. You clean but you don’t cook or go through anything. You open one door; wrong. The second; wrong. On the fifth, you find a bag of coffee. 

As you unfold the top, you reveal aromatic beans. You stare at them. You make coffee for your father all the time but you buy grounds, not whole beans. You look around for a hint. You’ve seen people grind beans on television but they don’t exactly show the grinder; it’s always just a loud noise in the background before the balding blonde brings the metropolitan cast their wide brimmed cappuccinos.

You flinch as Mr. Laufeyson struts around the bend of the counter and slides a square device across the granite. He pushes it in front of you, crowding you again. You thank him and stare at the grinder. What do you do now?

You take the little scoop from inside the bag and spoon up a heap of beans. You hover them above the rest as you touch the grinder, turning it as you examine it. He sighs and taps a silver button. The lid pops up and reveals a compartment. You pour in the beans and close the top.

“Are you truly so ignorant?” He accuses.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter, not bothering with an excuse.

“It is a simple task. They train teenagers to do it,” he scoffs.

You nod and press the button that reads ‘grind’. You hold it, happy for the noisy reprieve from his criticism. When it’s done, you look around again. There’s a machine but it looks a lot different than the drip machine in your own kitchen. You go over to it and feel along the upper part, searching for a catch. Surely there’s somewhere to put a filter.

He nears again. He slides a drawer out and takes out a little metal canister. He pushes a button to open the top of the machine and wiggles it over it to say, it goes here. You open your hand and he lets you have it. You return to the grinder and scoop out the ground beans into the little canister. 

You return to the machine as he taps his fingers on the counter. You slip the canister into place and close the lid. The screen lights up and shows several options. You don’t know which one to choose. He huffs and selects ‘bold’. You stare at his tie in shame.

“How can you not know how to brew a coffee?” He sneers.

You shrug, “sorry, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mm, there is much you don’t know, isn’t there? Much I know which you wouldn’t,” he snickers, “oh but I know something about you. Something… interesting.”

You furrow your brow and look up, not far, just at his throat. His hand slips across the counter and he looms over you. His gaze bores into you as he hangs over you like a shadow. He pulls back and turns to lean on the counter, lifting his wrist to adjust his watch. He’s certain to turn his hand to show it off. 

“What I know is that you’re a liar,” he states, “and sneaky. And nosy.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I only came last night because the alarm–”

“Last night? What do you mean?”

“Uh…” you blink and look him in the face. “You don’t remember?” 

“Ha,” he snorts, “of course I do. You were concerned after I triggered the alarm. So be it. I am not talking about that,” he faces you as he smirks, “you like to hide, don’t you?”

You frown and shrug. You don’t know what he means. He laughs and once more touches his watch.

“I know exactly how you came upon my watch that day,” he announces, “and I suspect you discovered a few other curious sights.”

You blanch and shake your head vehemently. Your cheeks are on fire and your whole body is buzzing. You could disintegrate right then and there. You almost wish you could.

“I didn’t– I didn’t see anything at all. I just– I just– Mr. Laufeyson, I wouldn’t ever– you’re my boss. I was afraid but I couldn’t see out from under the bed.”

“But if you could…” he hums.

“No,” you insist, “no, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Wouldn’t want to?” He echoes dully.

“I understand, I was wrong to not say anything but I was only trying to clean–”

“Wouldn’t want to?” He repeats even louder.

You snap your mouth shut and frown. You don’t know what to say. You’re embarrassed. You should’ve just told him yourself. Before you can apologise, he throws his hand up and sidesteps you.

“You may bring me my coffee,” he orders harshly, “be certain to knock.”

[zoropookie]

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

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

chapter 7.5 — chapter eight — chapter ten

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

You didn't think you were ever going to get an opportunity like this again.

In the midst of apprehension and fear, you stood there next to your captor stiff. Standing in the lingering shadow of your own fate, heart beating fast in your chest, the drumming in your ears getting louder with each second passing. You don't know if it was the winds shiftiness that was making you unsteady, or the sore wrists you inhabit, but something was clawing in your chest.

You couldn't let it show, not now. The car hummed lowly in front of the two, and as you narrowed your eyes towards the guy, your throat tightened. You had a window, one moment to speak up and this would probably all be over. You wanted to cry for help, as unrest clamped hard on your throat.

"I'm only checking to see if you kids need any help," She called out, her voice soft but probing, like she already knew something wasn't.

"We're fine," He said, low and controlled with a certain gravel, cringing at his pacing. You felt like you were splintering apart. "Everything's fine. We're a little tired from a show."

"A show?"

Yeah, if we're calling wild goose chases 'shows' now, I'm sure you won't tell her that, though. You could only smile with a more comfortable aura this time to mask the tension, but your eyebrows were furrowed. "College adaptation of Scream. Spooky...!" You wanted to raise your arms to do jazz hands, but you doubt that would make it look any less suspicious.

The woman's eyes lingered on you a minute longer, face creased with confusion. She hesitated, glancing at the man beside you, slowly absorbing what could be going on here. She tapped on the wheel in thought, her head tilted. "My granddaughter loves those movies, I believe," She said slowly. "Maybe you two go to the same school as she does?"

You looked at your kidnapper, to which he looked at you back, the both of you with side eyes. The dryness in your throat making it more difficult to speak. "Yeeeeah!" You both drawled.

"What a small world. Pretty sure she was the only one who at the rehearsal, we told her to get out, but she just kept insisting." He forced out, the smile on his face twisting into a little bit of a rougher one as he started becoming impatient. The laugh from his throat was hollow, almost foreign, as if it came from someone else. You were crumbling yourself, breaking down bit by bit.

"That sounds like my Julia," The woman said lovingly. "Be sure not to keep those ties on you for too long there, okay? You two are quite dedicated to the craft, I hope to see you out there!" Her voice was soft, probing, but with hardly any suspicion anymore.

It was unfortunate how bad your heart dropped in your chest that there was no. A specific feeling crawling up your spin like icy fingers, she gave you one last look, as if she was trying to find something, a little...unspoken cry for help. You stayed quiet as a mouse, still. "Have a good night, you two." She reached for the gear shift, and the car hummed softly.

She pulled away as the two of them smiled, eyes tracking the slow moving car. Her taillights casting a faint red glow over the darkening streets. She was gone, and in the moment that you two were standing there in the wake of the closest call you could muster, the brief flicker of what you thought was hope was extinguished again.

You squeezed your eyes shut in exhaustion. You were so fucking close; so agonizingly close, even. The universe was turning its back on you yet again as you stare at the distant and foggy path.

But...? For some reason, you felt relieved, too. Not with how your situation faired currently, but that you may have saved a life. You didn't have that much going for yourself right now, so it was nice to feel like you at least did something right. That feeling in your chest made you want to climb mountains, though for a brief period of time until you looked back at your kidnappers severely handsome face.

He seemed to be in thought too, but for a less innocent reason you could easily scope out. "What now? You gonna cut me up and stuff mashed potatoes in me like I'm a turkey? Do it."

"I'm glad you still have the heart to make jokes," he replied, cocking his head slightly as if trying to figure you out. "It makes me feel less bad for what's going to happen next." His fingers drummed adroitly on the hood of the car, each tap threatening your neck like a coiled snake.

"Oh, fantastic!" You threw your conjoined wrists up in defeat. "You know what? You're full of shit, right? Because you don't even know if I saw you stab your friend, and even if I did, why would I snitch you out when you're quite obviously going to come for my cheeks?! You should be thanking me that I saved your ass, but instead you're doing this bit where you act all mysterious and try to keep me on my toes. Jokes on you, I've watched Twilight before. I know what guys do to chase their toys."

"That's nice." He droned. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I have no idea why you want to kill and murder me, either, but we move on, I guess!" You spat, before sitting on the gravelly path and loosening your shoulders. "I give up. If you want to leave me like roadkill on the side of the road, do it. I don't want to go home, anyway."

He was irritatingly handsome in this light, like a villain carved from some god damn ancient myth, indifferent to your fate. Like you were just a mere mortal to him, and his lips quirked in a small and solemn smile. As per usual, he found it funny that you were throwing your hands up and surrendering. "I didn't go through the trouble to do that."

"Yeah you did. You're all the same." You shot back, your voice sulky and heavy. "It's always this fucked up game to keep you from getting bored. Until you find the next one."

He knelt down, the darkened gravel crunching under his shoes. "You don't know shit about me to even be concerned on whether you're dying today, or tomorrow, or any time soon." He said so quietly his voice was almost a sharp whisper only you could hear. He was turning your words over in his mind, shaping it himself. His face was inches from yours again, holding a long gaze. "But you're right about one thing."

Your stomach churned, and just as your fears predicted, you sucked in a deep breath, your mouth falling ajar before looking down at your shoulder. It took you a minute to process what happened before a large, crimson stain ate away at what was left of the fabric there. You felt warm, a different type of pain from what your body was already experiencing.

"I do get bored easily."

You could barely grasp onto what he was saying properly from how your shoulder screamed, excruciating lapses of pain rushing through your body so prominent that you fought not to pass out. You didn't care to try not to cry and wail in pain, you had nothing to lose.

Crimson spilled from your hands as he forced the knife out, the gushing of the liquids leaving him to marvel at your inner turmoil. Impenetrable enjoyment, as you already noted flowing through his body as he let out a resigned sigh. He lifted his hand to grab violently at your face, holding it with little regard in his hands, the metal of the ring on his thumb almost splitting a part of your chin.

"No more." He said finally, tone devoid of his previous one. "We're done playing, 'soulmate'."

no poll for this chapter! (you guys are kinda bad at this, no offense. see you next week!)

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

@mellowberrie @scarawiki @xxxion @shutingstar @feikyuu

@mercy-not-merci

[arthurbristow]

The night air was cold and thick, heavy with the stench of sweat, dirt, and failure. The rain had long stopped, but the dampness still clung to the streets, making everything feel oppressive. 

The rest of the League had gone out on various errands — Twice had muttered something about scouting locations, Toga was off on her own twisted business, and Dabi had left without a word, his typical indifference hanging in the air. 

It was just you and Shigaraki now, and the atmosphere in the hideout was heavy, oppressive.

You sat on the edge of a broken-down couch in the dim, crumbling warehouse that served as the League of Villains’ temporary hideout, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and exhaustion. 

The aftermath of the botched mission hung in the air like a noxious cloud, and you could feel the tension simmering, thickening with each passing second.

Across the room, Shigaraki Tomura paced back and forth like a caged animal, his movements jerky and erratic, every step an explosion of pent-up anger. His red eyes glowed with a fury that hadn’t subsided since the mission went south. His fingers twitched, clawing at the air, brushing dangerously close to his neck as if he was barely containing the urge to grab at the skin beneath his collar and tear it apart.

They had failed. He had failed. The kidnapping of Bakugo had gone sideways — again — and now Shigaraki was teetering on the edge of a meltdown.

“I had him!” he snarled suddenly, his voice echoing off the walls of the dilapidated room. His boots scraped against the floor, the sound as harsh as his breathing. “We had that damn brat right in our hands, and they — those fucking heroes — had to ruin it!”

You flinched at the sharpness of his words but stayed silent. His fury was like a storm, wild and untamed, and you knew better than to step into its path without caution. Still, watching him unravel like this — it sent a chill down your spine. 

He stopped pacing for a moment, one hand coming up to claw at his white hair. “Every damn time… every single time we get close, it falls apart!” His voice was growing louder, more frantic. “Those damn heroes, they think they can just—”

“Tomura…” you said quietly, trying to find a way to ground him, to pull him out of this spiral.

His head snapped toward you, eyes blazing. “What?” he spat, his voice venomous. “What the hell do you want?”

You froze under his gaze. You’d seen him angry before, but there was something different this time — something more unstable. His frustration with Bakugo’s escape had compounded, twisting into a deep, festering rage that seemed ready to consume him. 

“I—I just wanted to help,” you stammered, your voice weak, the words clumsy in your throat. 

“Help?” he repeated, a mocking edge to his tone as he stalked closer, each step filled with barely contained violence. “You think you can help? You think anyone can help when I can’t even—” His voice broke off, his breath hitching in a ragged gasp. “This was my chance to prove it. To show the master that I’m more than just some kid with a quirk that destroys everything he touches. But of course fucking All Might had to intervene!” 

His face twisted in frustration as he dragged a hand through his hair again, fingers shaking. The movement was erratic, desperate, as if he could somehow pull the failure out of his mind if he could just grip hard enough.

The sight of him like this — so raw, so vulnerable under all that fury — made your chest ache. You wanted to reach out, to offer something — anything — to ease the madness burning in his gaze, but how could you? You weren’t sure he’d even listen.

“Tomura-kun,” you tried again, softer this time, more careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ll get another chance. We can—”

“Shut up.” His voice was low, but it cut through the air like a knife. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing beneath the curtain of his hair. “I said shut up.”

“I just… I just don’t want you to blame yourself.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Blame myself? Oh, I’m very aware of whose fault this is. It’s mine. It’s always mine.”

You stood from the couch, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t just sit there and watch him tear himself apart. Still, against your better judgment, you stood and crossed the small space between you. He didn’t stop you, didn’t even look up as you approached, his eyes fixed somewhere on the far wall, lost in whatever thoughts he was keeping locked away. His hair was an unruly mess, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his cheeks. “Tomura, stop. You don’t have to carry this—”

His hand shot out before you could finish, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a vice-like grip. His touch was cold, painful.

Instinctively, your gaze darted to where his thumb and four fingers gripped your arm — but his fifth finger hovered, suspended just above your skin. So close. Just millimeters away. The threat was immediate, palpable. One flick, one slip, and you would decay into nothingness. Your flesh would turn to ash in an instant, just like everything else he touched.

“Boss…” you whispered, your voice trembling, but you didn’t pull away. Fear churned in your stomach, cold and sharp. “Please. Let me help.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, his face inches from yours. “You think I care about your hollow words? You think your comfort means anything to me? And you want to help?” he spat, his grip tightening, though his fifth finger remained just shy of contact. His red eyes bore into yours, filled with rage and something darker, something more desperate. “You can’t help me. You can’t fix this. You think you’re different, but you’re not. You’re nothing, just like the rest of these morons are!”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. Without thinking, you moved even closer. 

His eyes followed you warily, but he didn’t pull away, not yet. 

Slowly, you reached up, brushing the strands of his white hair out of his face. The touch was gentle, and for a moment, he let you do it, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers grazed his skin. You tucked the loose strands behind his ear, your hand lingering for just a second too long.

His body went rigid under your touch. The air between you stilled, his crimson eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. His breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, the rage in his expression faltered, giving way to confusion. He stared at you, as though he couldn’t understand what you had just done, as though your gentle touch had cut through the chaos swirling in his mind. 

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You think you can fix me? That this—” He gestured to your hand. “—is going to make a difference?”

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered. “I just don’t want you to feel so alone, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t move. He didn’t let go, either. His fingers trembled against your skin, the tension in his grip a constant reminder of the fragility of the situation. “Why?” he rasped, his voice hoarse, broken.

You swallowed, heart still pounding, but your voice remained steady. “Because I care. I’m here, boss. And I’m not leaving.”

His grip loosened, just enough for you to breathe again. “I’ve killed people, you know,” he claimed suddenly, his voice cold, detached. “I’ve wiped them out without a second thought. Innocents. Villains. Heroes. It doesn’t matter to me. Everything I touch turns to dust. I don’t deserve kindness of any kind.”

You stood your ground, even as the danger of his quirk lingered so close. “Maybe you don’t think you deserve it,” you said quietly, “but you do.”

With a shuddering breath, he let go. His hand fell to his side, his entire body sagging as though the weight of his anger and frustration had drained him. He looked away from you, his expression hardening once more, but there was a crack in the armor — a crack that hadn’t been there before.

“No matter how much you push me away, boss, I am not leaving. I believe in your cause.”

But Shigaraki didn’t respond. He turned away, retreating into the shadows, his shoulders hunched, his hands trembling at his sides as he mumbled something under his breath.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. But you didn’t let them fall. Not in front of him. 

And as you watched him retreat into the shadows, you knew that no matter how close you got, no matter how much you tried, the chasm between you would always remain. He was right. You couldn’t fix him.

Shigaraki was alone.

And deep down, you knew he always would be.

[rodolfoparras]

Finish line

Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: in which Peter learns that a little bit of encouragement goes a long way

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, riding

Peter’s perched on your lap, limbs aching as he moves his hips at an erratic pace and with a vice-like grip on his cock as he desperately tries to reach his climax. Despite his efforts, he can’t seem to make himself finish, having long become desensitized to his own touch, with every nerve in his body begging him to stop moving.

“Peter” you say trying to get his attention but he doesn’t seem to hear as he persistently keeps on moving his hips.

“Peter” you try again and that catches his attention. Your one hand anchors itself to his hip, the other finds its way to his cheek, tone ever so soft as you say to him “slow down for me?”

He almost protests, still moving at an erratic pace but eventually slows down and slumps into your embrace “Fuck I can’t - I can’t cum- not like this- please can you- “ he mutters into your shoulder, clearly exhausted and exasperated with his failing efforts.

“Hey hey hey, easy there” you say, slightly pushing at his chest to get a better look at his face. “You wanted this, remember?” Your words lack any bite, only serving as a reminder of what he wanted earlier that night.

“yes but-“ he says, eyes wide and tone urgent as he grabs ahold of your shoulders.

You shake your head as you brush some hair away from his forehead.

“You can do this without my help, love. I know you can” you say with a small smile on your face before your hand drops back to his hip and you gently adjust yourself on top of the sheets.“Now go slow for me, yeah?”

Peter takes a shaky breath and nods his head as he slowly start rolling his hips again.

“Ah- ah fuck” Peter groans out as resumes his movements.

“Good? You ask as you tighten your hold on his hips, trying to suppress the urge to buck up into him.

“Yeah” he says through labored breathes, working himself up your cock only to push himself back down again“just - ngh- just don’t think I can come like this”

“You can and you will, keep going” you say through gritted teeth, blunt nails sinking into the supple skin of his hips.

He hisses at that, body wincing at your rough touch but does as you say.

His body is slick with sweat, thighs quivering and hair sticking in all different directions and his moves become much more pronounced as he picks up his pace.

“That’s it” you grunt out as your hand caresses his waist “Doing so well for me, Peter”

“Yeah? I’m being good?” Peter mewls, back arching up as he gets the angle just right.

“So so good baby” you praise, surpressing your own moans of pleasure as he continues moving at a steady pace.

He preens at your praise as his hands adjust their position on your shoulders.

“Want to be good- want to be good for you” he blabbers, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to roll his hips.

Peter’s cock is flushed an angry red, and it weeps as it continually slaps continuously against his soft abdomen. Just as he’s about to wrap a hand around it to give it some relief you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Not yet alright?” you say as you intertwine your hand with his and bring it to your lips.

“Alright, alright, okay” He says under a shaky breath as he lowers his hand back again, adjusting it slightly for better leverage.

What started as a steady pace turns into a frenzied mess and the sound of skin slapping together mingles with the sound of his whimpers.

“Just like that” you praise, sounding short of breath as your hand caresses his stomach before sneaking up to his chest, rolling his nipple between your thumb and index finger.

“Oh fuck oh fuck” He cries out, body shuddering at your touch.

“Now touch yourself, pretty“ Peter nods at that, more than eager to fulfill your request as he takes his dick into his hand and starts stroking himself.

You can tell he’s close with the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace, thighs jiggling as his movements become much more erratic and precum leaking all over his fist as he keeps on stroking himself.

“I think- I think-“ he stutters out, eyes squeezing shut and head tipping back.

“That’s it. You can do this without my help love, I know you can” you say under a shaky breath and just as you say that you hear him cry out before his head falls onto your shoulder and ropes of cum spurt all over your abandonment.

Despite the noticeable exhaustion on his body and face he readjusts himself and keeps on moving his hips.

“Please please - need you -need you to cum as well” he says through labored breaths.

“You gonna make me come pretty hm?” You say with a small smile on your face, feeling heat coiling in your groin.

“Yes yes yes” he says, eyes half lidded and mouth agape.

Just the sight of that accompanied with his pleading tone, is all it takes for you to start unraveling, shouting his name and spilling deep inside him.

No words are exchanged as you take a minute to catch your breath, but when you do speak the first thing you say is “told you that you could do it”

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 4

Title: Dark Fantasy Meets Reality

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man) x f!Reader

Kink: CNC

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, CNC, hair pulling, rough sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, sunshine), praise (good girl), man-handling, bondage (zipties), p-in-v (wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, choking/breath play, panties and fingers in mouth, vaginal fingering, Lloyd Hansen (He is most DEFINITELY a warning)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You find a place on the Web where you can spell out your sexual desires with no judgement and maybe even hire some help... 

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

A/N: Jeez, cutting it close with this one. I had another fic for today but I wanted to change the pacing so I decided this might be a better fit - Love Grem 💜

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome!

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You half growl to yourself and kick off the covers.

This was getting ridiculous.

You were beyond horny – you were desperate for some relief but everytime you got close to that sweet, sweet edge of ecstasy, you were viciously pulled away. Either there was a delivery, or phone call, something that snapped your mind our of fantasy and back to reality. Sometimes it was your own mind sabotaging you; you forgot the washing again, that very important work thing you had. Things that only added to your stress and frustration. Always  Ruining what would have been a perfect orgasm.

You’d been without a partner for a while now, and at first it was great. You and your fingers or vibrator were happy as a clam. However, the insatiable need of physical touch became overpowering. You didn’t want the torturous, laborious process of getting to know someone before trusting them enough to reveal some of your kinks for them to either break it off or judge you. Although it would be nice to have someone to share your bed with, once in a while.

You huffed, tugging your sweat pants back on, and heading to the bathroom to wash your hands. You needed to do something or someone and soon. You head back to your laptop, your coffee cold and uninviting, grumbling as you answer emails. It’s not long before your mind wanders, taunting you with thoughts and daydreams of utter filth. You glance to your phone.

Surely, there has to be a website for your sort of fantasies right? You see comments on reddit and porn sites so – surely – there’s a site where you could at least talk through your fantasies?

You pick up your phone and begin to type; work abandoned. After forty minutes of searching you find a site, agreeing to terms and conditions and set up a log in; using a faceless image of yourself in your favourite bra. Writing out your biography is a strangely freeing feeling. Openly listing kinks and things you’d like to try; things you’d never, ever tell a random person you’d meet face to face. Its not long before you’re browsing through posts and you can feel the familiar bubble of excitement build. You bite your lip.

It’s a dangerous game but you consider making a post, laying out what you need. You remind yourself of digital footprints but God – you need some form of release that maybe this will help. So you write. It’s not a New York Times Bestseller, but it’ll do. You re-read it, ironing out any spelling mistakes or especially bad grammar and hit the post button. You stare as it publishes your content and sigh softly. You’re not sure how to feel.

“I can always delete it in a few days,” you tell yourself, setting your phone face down and looking back to your laptop. “Yeah. I could always do that.”

You’re running errands a week later when your phone buzzes with a notification. You dismiss it and shrug it off, continuing to walk down the street with your tote over your shoulder. It was a warm day, a deliciously cool breeze in the air and youd taken the time and effort  to make yourself up. A cute summer dress that was almost a little revealing, your favourite strawberry lip gloss and make up to exentuate your favourite and best features and your hair, your hair, was just perfect today.

It still didn't stop the ache from your clit though. That was the only downside.

You reached around the snacks in your tote bag to find the keys to your home but your key wouldn’t turn. You frowned a little and try the handle. The front door swung open to an empty apartment. You shiver slightly.

“Must’ve forgot to lock it. Damn.” You murmur to the hallway as you step inside. You turn to lock the door and when the bolt slides home, a gloved handovers your mouth and you’re yanked backwards into a broad, hard chest. You yelp as you’re pulled, legs wobbling but another large hand appears at your hip, holding you steady against your aggressor.

“Welcome home,” a deep voice rumbles from behind you, breath hot on your neck and wisps of facial hair tickling the shell of your ear. You go to make a noise, but the hand encompassing your jaw squeezes hard.

“Ah – ah – ah,” the voice chides teasingly and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I don’t want you screaming just yet.”

It was like someone had poured ice down your spine. You were spun around and early marched down the short hallway  and into the kitchen, your tote ripped from your shoulder and tossed somewhere – you didn’t really care, you were to busy thinking about what would happen next. Marched to the countertop, your aggressor pushed your head flat against the surface, nestling a strong leg between your thighs  to stop you trying to make a hasty attempt at escape  while a free hand bound your wrists behind your back with what felt like zipties, biting into your skin agonisingly. He made an approving humming sound, and although you couldn’t quite see him, you could feel his eyes roaming over you. Gloved hands ghosted from your knees, to your thighs and to your ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze as the skirt of your dress was lifted over your hips. You felt yourself flush with a mixture of fear and embarassment, knowing your lace panties were being admired.

“All this for me? You shouldn’t have.”

You wriggled feebly, which earned you a harsh smack to on ass cheek, making you squeak with shock. You kick your legs out, earning another, harder smack to your other cheek. This time you cry out, and you hear the voice chuckle.

“Behave, sweetheart,” you hear a belt buckle clink behind you and freeze up. “Or don’t. I don’t really care.”

You whimper when you feel a finger run down to your clit over your panties and you flush again when you feel your legs practically vibrate at the sensation. Another chuckle from the man behind you.

“Oh, sweetheart. Here, let me help.”  

You feel your panties slowly and tauntingly slide down over your ass cheeks, your voice dying in your throat the hot flesh between your legs met the cool air of your kitchen.  You can feel your panties hang loosely around your ankles and there’s a tap against your leg from a polished shoe. On instinct you raise your foot.

“Good girl,” purrs the voice, tapping your other leg with his foot. You repeat the motion, raising your other leg. There’s a dramatic sigh as the man leans over, swiftly sweeping your panties from the floor. You whimper when he leans over your body, pressing you into the counter. Your bones cry in agony with the pressure and you bite your lip to keep any sort of noise slipping out. Which is futile when a large hand knots in your hair, pulling your hair by the root, forcing you to crane your neck back uncomfortably to look at the man behind you. Tears sting at your eyes but you say nothing, focusing intently as predatory blue eyes bore into you. You can see a playful sneer tugging at his lips beneath a groomed moustache, contorting a handsome face into a dangerously seductive one.

“Hey, pretty girl. Name’s Lloyd. I need you to remember that, got it?”

You don’t think you’d be able to forget it anytime soon but you nod anyway, keeping your teeth firmly pressed against the softness of your lips as you look back at him with glassy wide eyes. His smile widens and he pats your right ass cheek gently.

“Good girl,” He praises, raising your panties to your mouth. “Open wide, pretty girl.”

Your heart beats wildly as you comply, feeling the thick gloved fingers shove the flimsy material into your open mouth. Shame floods you as you feel the dampness of your excitement touch your tounge – this should not turn you on as much as it does. Lloyd takes in your expression, and looks pleased.

“You look good with your mouth full, sunshine.” He teases, squeezing your ass cheek with his free hand before moving to your aching core. Your moan is suppressed by your panties and Lloyd’s fingers in your mouth. Lloyd slips two fingers into your desperate hole with ease, sliding them in and out torturously slow, smirking down at you as your eyes flutter and your legs shift. He teases and flexes his fingers inside of you, spreading and stretching you open with a delicious burn that had you keening around the fingers in your mouth.

“Shit,” He gasps tauntingly. “You’re already soaked. You don’t need the warm-up.”

Your eyes go wide when you feel his cock run over your folds, gathering the slick that had built up between your thighs. You make a muffled sound of protest that evolves into a long moan as Lloyd sheaths his cock into your throbbing cunt. Your eyes roll back and Lloyd’s fingers move from your mouth to wrap around your throat, squeezing your windpipe lightly and pulling you backwards so you’re flush against his chest.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos huskily into your ear, “Take it.”

The hand in your hair moves to your hip, keeping you still as he starts to thrust into you. Lloyd’s moustache tickles at your throat when he trails kisses along the back of your neck, the grip from his hand squeezing so tightly you feel lightheaded. But damn, if it doesn’t feel good. Your pussy grips his cock making Lloyd grunt into your ear, thrusting harder into you. You mewl around your panties, trying to shift your tied hands to no avail.

Lloyd groans as he feels your slick walls flutter around him, milking his cock so well, so quickly. A gloved finger hooks part of your panty and tugs it free from your mouth, throwing to the floor with a wet thud. You take a huge gulp of air before Lloyd’s hand is back around your throat again.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He growls, tugging your neck back forcefully. You yell out, back arching along with your neck as your hips slam mercilessly against the countertop.

“Y-You!” You cry out, gasping for air when he releases your throat to let you speak. Lloyd clicks his tongue, squeezing your throat again.

“No, no, sweetheart,” he chides, voice low. “Get it wrong again and I’ll have to spank you. Now, let’s try again. Who does this pussy belong to?”

He releases your throat again but this time you almost scream his name. “Lloyd! I-it belongs to yo-“

“That’s right, baby!” Lloyd interrupts you loudly, cutting off your air supply once more. He fucks into you mercilessly, and you’re sure you’ve got Bruises on your hips, but you don’t really care. Lloyd’s sneer against your neck with filthy praises falling from his lips make your head spin and you don’t even notice that you’re cumming over his cock until he releases your neck to let you scream.

“Oh, look at you.” He huffs, continuing the unrelenting pace, loving the feeling of your soaked cunt around him and the way your legs are shaking. “Doin’ so well for me sweetheart. I think I’m gonna have to keep you.”

You whine pitifully, pleasure blurring your brain as you nod along to his words.

“Fuck, you’d like that?” Lloyd groans. His hips stutter for a moment but when he starts to fuck you again, it’s sloppier and less focused. “You’d like to be all mine?”

“Oh – yes!” You half-sob, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling as you feel your pussy spasm; close to cumming yet again. That spasm is what sends Lloyd over the edge, pinning you in place with his hands on your hips as he coats your walls with his cum. You follow soon after, again, squeezing him for everything he can give.

Your breathing is shallow but you tell when cool metal slips against your wrist, freeing your from the ties. Your hands fly out to grab the counter, steading yourself as you catch your breath.

“Well, sunshine, this was fun.” Lloyd comments nonchalantly as he removes himself from you lazily, prolonging the feeling of his cock slipping from you before giving your ass a pat. “But I’ve got a job nearby – shouldn’t be too long.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows and blink a few times. You glance over your shoulder to see him shoving himself back into his pants quickly. He gives you a wink and a smirk that has a blush creeping up your neck.

“Don’t give me that look,” He says waggling a finger jokingly at you. “I’ll be back later for another round. Or three.”

You nod, still a little shell-shocked and ruminating in post-orgasm bliss. Maybe that website wasn't half bad after all.

[heaven4lostgirls]

“Please don’t cry, I’ve always hated it when you cry”

james potter x insecure!fem!reader

TW: angst, happy ending, hurt, insecure thoughts

You were a muggleborn witch at Hogwarts and had somehow made your way into cahoots with the marauders. Since you had first helped Remus Lupin with his Herbology homework you had been introduced to the band of misfits and had soon become one of the only girls who could say they were just friends with the marauders.

That however changed in the course of your third year when James Potter had somehow grown into his clothing and glasses. His hair had changed from its usual slicked back look to a messy bunch of curls. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed that James Potter had some who’s gotten hotter, every girl in your year had somehow developed a crush on the boy since getting back. Safe to say that Sirius Black found himself competing with his best mate over who was the better looking marauder.

You knew however that James had only ever had eyes for a red head Gryffindor which never bothered you before as you used to help him with his extravagant ways to ask Lily out. You knew even though he had somehow caught your eye he would still never see you as more than a best friend and you somehow had to live with that.

Your crush had carried on from third year all the way to seventh which broke your heart as you watched the boy you loved pine over a girl who had never given him the time of day. That was until miraculously Lily Evans agreed to go to Hogsmead with James Potter in their seventh year.

To say James was ecstatic was an understatement and you knew that although your heart was breaking you had to be supportive and cheer him on as he finally got the girl of his dreams. As you walked to the marauders dorm you had overheard Sirius talking to James. “Mate you know you can’t go on this date with Lily, you’d only be leading her on” Sirius’ voice was loud and somewhat frustrated which confused you. Wasn’t James in love with Lily?

“I know man, but we both know I can’t be with her.” James said slowly as if in disgust?. “What do you mean ‘her’?! You say it as if it’s some kind of crime to like her!” Sirius exclaims and you’re suddenly confused on who they could possibly be talking about. You move closer to the door and peek in to see James sitting on his bed and Sirius pacing the room with his hands raking through his dark hair.

“You know what I mean Sirius! You know that my parents would approve of Lily, she’s nice enough and I don’t want to think about what people would say if they knew I had a crush on Y/N!! You’ve seen how she looks man, i just can’t man ..” James rambles.

You gasp softly and that’s enough for Sirius to notice you standing behind the door. His eyes widen before they walk towards the door hastily whilst James looks at his retreating figure with confusion. Before Sirius can get to you, you’re running down the stairs and outside the Gryffindor common room before making your way to the black lake with tears streaming down your face

You feel to the ground grasping your chest as it felt like your heart was being torn from your chest. You knew that your feelings were unrequited but hearing James speak about you in that manner had hurt more than you expected. You weren’t ready to hear your own insecure thoughts come out of the mouth of someone you thought had your best interests at heart.

You sobbed until you couldn’t cry anymore and you simply wrapped your arms around yourself as you laid back against a tree as you slowly closed your eyes from exhaustion. Before you knew it you were woken up from a panicked voice in the distance sounding eerily similar to James Potter

“Y-Y/N! Merlin! We were so worried you hadn’t come for dinner and it turned to curfew and we couldn’t find you so I told pads and moony I was taking the map to try and find you!” Yep, that was James. You groaned groggily as you opened your eyes to see James crouched in front of you in a panicked state.

“Did i fall asleep? Shit! I was meant to help Frank with his transfiguration homework today-“ you were cut off by James hugging you tightly. You slowly wrapped your arms around him confused on why he was so panicked. “U-uh, James are you crying?” You questioned confused as you rubbed his back slowly as you felt wetness pool onto your shoulders.

His body all of a sudden wracked with sobs that broke your heart and you pulled him closer to hug him tighter. “Hey hey shh, please don’t cry Jamie..I’ve always hated it when you cried” you cooed softly as you wiped his tears and hugged him tightly.

He smiled through his tears as he picked you up. You gasped shocked and embarrassed that he was holding you up like nothing when he had told Sirius that he couldn’t walk around whilst people knew that he “liked you”. Considering you couldn’t even be sure if that was even the truth at this point.

“James put me down…please” you uttered softly and he looked at you confused and placed you down before looking at you in question. “What’s wrong? I was so worried that you were hurt with all that’s going on about the dark lord and his new death eater followers I was worried someone had gotten to you and i can’t bear to think about what I would have done if you were hurt-“ He was cut off by you slapping your hand over his mouth.

“You can stop pretending James, I heard you talking to Sirius about how you couldn’t stand the thought of people knowing if you liked me, it’s okay, we don’t need to act like we’re friends alright? I’ll leave you alone, just please stop acting like you care-“

“NO! No no no no! Listen Y/N you’ve got it all wrong please don’t walk away from me, I promise when I was talking to Sirius I meant that you were way out of my league and I knew that you deserved better than someone like me, i didn’t at all mean that you were anything less than perfect okay? Please believe me I can’t lose you..”

You had felt the tears streaming down your face long before James had finished his little speech. “What do you mean you like me? James you’ve been in love with Lily since first year..you don’t need to say you like me just because it seems like the kind thing to do, I promise I can get over this stupid crush I have just don’t lead me on-“ it was now your turn to be cut off by James’ slightly chapped lips and cold hands on your face.

You kissed him back fervently and moved your hands to wrap around his neck as he pulled away you tucked into yourself into his neck as you blushed. “If that didn’t let you know that I have been pining over lily to distract myself from you I don’t know what will. I promise I have never lied about liking you” he could feel your smile in the crook of his neck and he pulled you away from him he smiled “cmon let’s get back to the dorms, everyone has been looking for you” you smiled softly before nodding

As you both made your way back to the dorms you knew that James Potter had always had your heart and you his however you were both somewhat too blind to see it.

[lelengerine]

but i love you, teaser.

pairing | jaemin x reader

synopsis | for someone who prefers keeping to yourself, just how did you end up in the position of vice president for your class? not to mention, your partner is the sparkling golden boy of the school, na jaemin.

genre | class officers au, a lot of the grumpy x sunshine trope, fluff, angst, mutual pining, reader uses she/her pronouns, jaemin uses a nickname for reader (angel), cursing, more to be added in the full release

wc | 0.5k for the teaser, est. 3k+ for the entire fic!

notes | i'm back and happy birthday to our dearest nana <3 i originally wanted to finish everything so i could post it for his birthday but i think it's better i don't rush the writing for this one,, hence the teaser :D likes and rbs are highly appreciated!

m.list → send in an ask or reply to be added to the taglist!

your breathing turns ragged and heavy as you try keeping up with jaemin’s own feet — your only passing thought wondering how the boy in front of you hasn’t faltered a bit from his brisk jog amidst the empty school hallways.

the two of you were tasked to submit the class attendance folder to the teachers lounge at 7 in the morning, a daily hinderance to someone who’d rather laze around in the classroom to get a couple more minutes of sleep before the first bell would ring, someone in the likes of you.

“na jaemin! god, slow the fuck down.” you finally huff, falling behind in your steps to catch your breath.

your classmate turns around on his heel at the call of his name, “maybe you’re simply too slow, angel.” he flashes an award-winning grin while tightly holding the important folder to submit, his actions doing nothing to ease your exhaustion.

“my bad, this angel doesn’t have two feet in the air to fly whenever she wants.” your reply is enveloped in sarcasm, chest heaving at a calmer pace than a few moments prior.

“you gotta live a little, run a bit more. maybe then, you’ll take off.” the quote-esque words have you grimacing at the thought, believing it to be a sense of false, cringe worthy hope provided by the boy.

“the only thing about to fly is my fist to your face, na.” you grumble, an arm ready to hit the boy with full force as soon as your mind gives confirmation to do so.

jaemin brings a hand over your curled-up fist, halting your swing before it even happens. “nuh, uh. you wouldn’t want to risk that on your stellar school record, would you?” he tuts with a knowing look on his face, “how ironic for an angel, indeed.”

“you’re the only one that calls me that anyways.” you retract your hand back down slowly after being flustered by the mention of your student record, still eyeing the boy in front of you — the bright expression on his face remaining in tact.

“it’s because i think it suits you.” he simply puts it, turning his back on you to continue walking towards the teachers lounge.

“and how exactly does that make sense?” you inquire, trailing him from behind, and the boy knows he’s garnered your attention for the second time today.

“why should i trouble myself and explain it further?” he returns the query back in your hands, still looking ahead of him. “do i get something in return?”

“that’s just childish, na. we’re seniors.” you remind him with the roll of your eyes, somewhat glad he couldn’t see you from his position.

“hey, i don’t do things for free.”

“you do class president tasks for free.” you quickly point out, the familiar door that leads the the teachers lounge finally coming into view at the end of the hallway.

“that’s rather inevitable, isn’t it? being in this position just means its part of my responsibilities.” he shrugs, slowing down his movement now that he sees the destination ahead.

“you’re just being boring.” you groan in protest, detesting how the boy is trying to be difficult with you.

he turns around once more, albeit much more abrupt than the first instance, making you almost bump into his back side. “then how’s this? i’ll tell you the reason during the upcoming school festival.”

“fine.” you reply, straightening your clothes out after that brief moment of getting frazzled. “you can’t take that back now, na.”

“wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

[literary-motif]

All The Loose Ends

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Isaac is overworked and exhausted. You make it better.

The smoke curling up from the end of his cigarette looked eerily white in the moonlight. It seemed almost like a ghost, Isaac mused, tilting his head and letting his gaze wander over the slightly more unkempt part of the garden where the people he loved most lay buried. He tasted ash in his mouth, only in part caused by indulging in the habit he had meant to swear off long ago.

In truth, Isaac was so overwhelmingly exhausted that he could not muster the energy to get himself to care about it — about his health (not that he had ever particularly been concerned for it), about the smoke only partly making its way out of the opened kitchen window, about the headache torturing him for the better part of the week, about the feeling of suffocation rising in his chest when he thought about his work or as much as took a glance at his desk; even the person sleeping soundly a storey above him was nothing more than an afterthought now, another ghost to him. They would leave soon enough.

The thought made his heart seize painfully. Pickle — recalling the nickname brought a small smile to his tired face — was an inexhaustible source of life. They were a fresh breath of air, a reminder to cherish the time he had left instead of just going through the motions each day. They made him strive for more. They made him want to change. They made him want to live and break out of the void existence he had carved out for himself, and into which he had dragged them selfishly.

Isaac took another drag of his cigarette, narrowing his eyes to faintly make out his mother’s favorite flowers growing peacefully beside her grave; but alas, abandoning his grandfather’s legacy was impossible. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

The question made him choke on his exhale. Coughing, he turned to glance at you with furrowed brows.

“You should try, honestly,” you say, stepping up beside him and taking the low-burning cigarette from his fingers. “You remind me of a raccoon,” you add, contemplating only a moment before putting the cigarette out in the soil of one of the succulents placed carefully on the countertop under the window. The moonlight allowed you to see the ash discarded in the sink as you glance down and you throw a displeased look at Isaac.

The night was not dark enough to hide his blush. “A raccoon? How so?” he asked, clearing his throat, the strong and decisive voice you had grown used to uncharacteristically morphed into a tired rasp. “Is it my nocturnal activity?”

You chuckled, looking up at the moon. “I was thinking more about the bags under your eyes.” They had gotten more and more prominent in the preceding weeks and you were starting to worry. 

It was an open secret that Isaac did not settle down easily. You could hear him pacing in the middle of the night sometimes or saw the light streaming into the entrance hall from under the closed door of his study at some ungodly hour when your own troubled thoughts would not let you sleep. “What’s keeping you awake tonight?” you asked in a light tone as you closed the window, hoping it masked your worry.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as could have been expected. Isaac did not open up easily and it was a shot in the dark hoping he would answer your question truthfully, if at all. You grimaced, fearing you had overstepped. To break the tension rising steadily with the moments of quiet, you were about to change the subject and point out what you assumed was the constellation Orion in the night sky. The deep, heavy sigh escaping Isaac made you pause. 

You turned your head to look at him. It was almost unheard of that Isaac let his carefully constructed mask of stoic nonchalance slip, even for a moment. He was usually so desperate to keep control of both the world around him and himself, it was painful to watch him hold onto it sometimes and brush away sentimentality as if it was a weakness he could not dare to afford. 

The sigh was an admission of defeat. It was the tangible proof, along with the ash in the sink and the way his head was bowed, that Isaac had reached the end of his seemingly inexhaustible rope. 

“Just life,” he said quietly in response, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. The headache had not subsided, and his usual self-destructive remedy of downing a few sleeping pills with a glass of whiskey seemed out of the question now that you were here. 

Isaac’s exhaustion made his head swim. It was hard to say when he had last taken a break when the past weeks blended into one long string of cases and files and meetings and work, work, work. There had never been much of a life for him outside of it, and while working gave his pitiful existence purpose, sometimes it wrung him dry.

The light touch of your hand on his arm made him startle. His eyes flew open and he turned, wincing at the sharp stab of pain it gave his head. Your eyes were fixed on him as if trying to solve a puzzle and Isaac quickly thought up a snide comment about your evident predisposition for a private eye, but it died on his tongue when he noticed the glass of water you were holding out for him to take. 

You smiled faintly at him when he took a few tentative sips of the cool water. “I have fought my fair share of battles with headaches. If there is anything I can do, let me know,” you spoke softly, “Regardless, might I propose getting some rest? Sleep is the most effective natural remedy for them, I have found.”

“I am fine,” Isaac answered weakly. It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. You hummed, clearly not believing his lie. Perhaps you truly would make a good private investigator. 

“Let me—” you began hesitatingly, “Ah, that is to say, I would like to try something, if I may?” 

“What is it, Pickle?” Isaac asked, sighing again. There was no reason to hold onto pretense now and he was entirely too exhausted to care for it. His mask would be back in place by morning. 

You moved to stand behind him, placing your hands on his tense shoulders. Isaac stiffened immediately, his posture straightening into the usual way he carried himself, always on high alert. He did not move, either to brush your hands off of him or to step away from your touch. You took it as a small encouragement to continue.

“Relax,” you soothed, starting to massage small circles in the place between his shoulder blades with your thumbs. You heard Isaac inhale shakily, but he stayed still, letting you work. Gradually, he started to ease into the touch. 

“You’re—” Isaac rasped dreamily, clearing his throat a moment later for propriety’s sake, “You’re quite good at this.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, his eyes falling shut of their own accord to drift in the feeling of being touched — kindly and without an underlying agenda to exploit him.

Smiling quietly to yourself at how a few simple touches made Isaac pliable in your hands, you merely hummed in answer. “The tension you carry right here” — you said, moving your fingers to work on the muscles of his lower neck, earning a soft sigh from Isaac — “is responsible for your headache, as far as I can tell. If I had to guess, it comes from sitting at your desk, hunched over casefiles for the better part of the month. Perhaps you could stop overworking and spare yourself this pain? True, now I can—” ease it. Help you. Make sure you’re alright. Take care of you. 

You cut yourself off before revealing too much, your hands still working on Isaac’s shoulders and neck. They were becoming less and less tense under your gentle ministrations. 

When Isaac opened his eyes again, to his horror, his vision was blurry with tears. He wiped at them discreetly. “Thank you,” he said, hoping you chose to ignore how strained his voice sounded. “I have never, I think— Well, it’s been a while since someone,” he hesitated, unsure of how to continue, “did this for me.”

“Anytime, really,” you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders and allowing him to turn and face you. “Although I meant what I said: I would appreciate it if you toned down on burning the candle at both ends, Isaac.” 

Slowly, giving you sufficient time to draw back, he leaned into you, placing his arms around you in a tight embrace. You exhaled, surprised, but wrung your arms around him in return, treading your fingers through the hair at the base of his head. Isaac shivered, holding you tighter. “Thank you,” he said again, voice rough from the lump in his throat, “and I will, I promise.”

[bubble-popping]

day 10! more roleswap au :) this time c!dteam actually have good communication? crazy stuff

George followed the pacing netherborn with a bored gaze. Black hair was ablaze with tall flames, lighting up the entire ravine with its intensity. Even so far back, George could feel the heat, but he'd long grown accustomed to his friend's explosive outbursts.

"And he was totally clueless! He acted like he didn't just murder like ten people! Then he just-poof! Gone! What kind of coward does that?!"

"I think you're totally overthinking this, Sap-"

"And you!!" The panda hybrid abruptly spun around to point at him. "How are you so calm about this!? He just killed you!!"

"Me and several other people, yeah. That's kinda how firework rockets work."

"Aren't you mad? Aren't you pissed off?!"

"I mean, at first, yeah. I don't really care now though."

"WHAT?? How can you just let go of something like that?!"

George shrugged. "Look, Bad was being weird. He was pressuring Dream to do it, and Dream didn't even fire at me. Firework rockets are just that OP. And... Sapnap, c'mon. We know his past."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that-"

Heavy footsteps interrupted their argument, causing Sapnap's fire to cut out. They both looked up at the criss-crossing paths created to better traverse the two sides of the ravine. A familiar figure trudged down cobblestone steps and wooden bridges.

They watched as the hunched silhouette lumbered to the lowest level, cape and tail dragging along the ground. Green eyes seemed to glow in the torch light despite being half-lidded with exhaustion. "Hey, guys."

A tense silence followed.

Then, like a proper inferno, Sapnap blew up again. "THAT'S IT??? You kill George-you kill a bunch of people, actually, and that's all you can say!?"

Dream visibly flinched, grimacing. "I just, I wasn't sure what to say-"

"How about, oh I don't know, AN APOLOGY?"

"You're right." The ender hybrid nodded and glanced to the brunette before hesitantly approaching him. George watched him get closer, and tried not to let it show that the blood--his blood--staining his friend made him feel more put off than he expected. "George."

"Dream."

"I..." The taller tried, only to get promptly choked up. Tears started to build on his lashes, just when he thought he'd run out of those. He clenched his hands into fists, needing something to hold now more than ever. "I'm sorry. I didn't, you know I would never hurt you, or Sapnap, or Sam or-ya know, you guys are my friends and I-I love you guys, I just-" He had to stop again, throat closing as his tears started to run.

"Hey," a soft whisper came. Gentle hands slipped between his, and when he looked, George offered a warm smile. "It's okay, Dream. I forgive you."

"You-you do?"

The shorter nodded. "I could see something was off. You weren't yourself out there."

"Yeah, somethin'... something like that."

"This server tends to have that effect on people. Besides, I got more, ya know?" The Brit joked. Thankfully, it finally got Dream to smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, then looked to Sapnap who had his arms crossed and gaze downcast. Dream reluctantly pulled away from George to stand before the netherian. "Sapnap?"

"Why'd you do it?" Sapnap asked without looking up.

"I didn't want to. Bad was..." Dream sighed as he tried to find the words. "I dunno what he was trying to do, but he mentioned my past, Sap-"

"That's my dad you're talking about, ya know."

"I know. Your father, who exiled you from your own country, Sapnap." He didn't miss how Sapnap flinched, clearly wrestling with that knowledge himself.

"You promised you'd never hurt us, Dream. You said that life was behind you."

"And I felt terrible when I realized what I did. I killed George, I almost killed you, I... I felt like I'd betrayed you guys. That's not what I came here to do, and I'm sorry. I understand if you don't forgive me. Regardless, I'm going to do better. I'll be someone who protects you guys with my strength, not hurts you."

Finally, Sapnap looked up to meet Dream's gaze, and found only steely determination.

"I believe you, Dream. I know you can do good. I've seen it. And, honestly, some of it's my fault too. I should've stepped in sooner. I should've been there to back you up."

"What's done is done. Only thing we can do now is move forward."

"So, friends?" Sapnap held out his fist.

"Best friends." Dream grinned and bumped his own fist to Sapnap's.

"Great, now that we're all friends again, can you please take a bath, Dream?" George piped up from behind them, causing Dream to jolt and fluster with embarrassment.

"R-right. I'm gonna go do that."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: Heloooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As promised, you’re shown to your new office by the end of the day. You put your meagre box of belongings on the desk and unpack a piece at a time. Isn’t an exhaustive task so you take your time. 

You put your watermelon post-its by the base of the monitor’s pedestal and your cell phone screen lights up. It’s been buried in your bag for much of the day but you took it out to reconnect to your work accounts. Melanie’s name fills the top of the screen. You still haven’t responded to her since the weekend. 

You swipe up your phone and cross the office. You answer as you shut the door, eking out a tiny hello as you turn back and bite your thumb. You pace aimlessly as your stomach knots. You don‘t think you’re mad at her, just embarrassed about how it all turned out. She knows how many times your excitement was burnt to disappointment, you hoped she wouldn’t have added to your pile ashes. 

“Hey, girl, you busy? I’ve been calling you all week.” 

It’s Tuesday, you think to yourself. 

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on at work--” 

“That’s great,” she interrupts, “did you see my texts? I really am sorry about the other night. You know, I was stressed. Clark was out of town for his job and I hadn’t seen him all week. Really, I didn’t forget about you, I just thought we were meeting Saturday, not Friday.” 

Your mouth slants as you weigh her excuse. You don’t know if you believe her but it could be true. How long have you been friends? Doesn’t she deserve the benefit of the doubt?

“Everyone gets busy,” you say with a brittle laugh, “I totally get it. Next time I’ll be clearer, that’s all. Make sure there’s no misunderstanding.” 

“Of course,” her voice is trills and is overly affected, “I just wanted to check in since Clark said you were so upset.” 

“He did?” You frown as you stop by the desk and take your stapler out of the box. 

“Uh, yeah, he did. So, in the future, if your upset, you can just let me know, hon,” her tone drips like syrup, “we’re friends, aren’t we? I mean, it’s a big city and we gotta stick together.” 

“Erm, sure, I’m sorry, I didn’t think... I wasn’t upset. I didn’t say anything, you know, I was just tired.” 

“Whatever, hon, it’s behind us now, isn’t it? You forgive me?” She pauses, waiting. 

“Y-yeah?” You answer. 

“Aw, that’s so wonderful,” she chimes, “anyway, you sound busy. You must be working so I’ll let you go. Ciao.” 

She hangs up and you hold the phone to your ear for a moment after the line dies. That was weird. Like she wasn’t really talking to you, but more putting on a show for someone. Strange. 

You drop your arm and a knock comes at the door. You wince and put your phone screen down. You face the door and fold your hands. 

“Uh, who is it?” You call out. 

The door opens and a throat clears, “just me,” Thor says as he enters, “wanted to be sure you got some of the leftovers.” 

He has a container in his hands. You try to blow off the tension and force a smile. You drop your arms straight and drag a finger up and down the seam of your pants. 

“Thanks, that’s too sweet,” you chirp. 

“Ah, I made sure to get you some cinnamon cookies,” he nears and offers the container. 

“Oh, my, I shouldn’t,” you accept the box. 

“You shouldn’t?” He wonders, “you’re not on some diet, are you? You hardly need one.”  

You laugh nervously, “oh, no,” you back up and spin to put the container on the desk. You go back and reach into the box, “I just... I have a rotten sweet tooth, you know? Sugar keeps me up.” 

“Mmm, well, you should indulge. Enjoy. Nothing wrong with allowing yourself the small things,” he goads, “so,” he claps his hands, the sound making you jump, “your office. How do you like it?” 

He looks around theatrically as he pivots. You take out your small blue mug with the teddy bear on it and follow his gaze, “it’s nice. Big.” 

“Yes, I suppose you don’t take up much space,” he remarks, “if you need any supplies, you can just let me know.” 

“Oh, um, I shouldn’t. I... I could just contact finance--” 

“Come to me,” he insists, “accounting takes too long.” 

“Okay,” you agree. 

“Are you excited?” He asks as he turns to you. 

“Sure,” you answer. 

“Mm,” he hums, “you’re sweet, but I don’t want you to stress. If there’s anything overwhelming me, don’t be afraid to let me know.” 

“I know, thank you, Mr. Odinson.” 

“Thor,” he corrects you with a wink, “you don’t know want to know Mr. Odinson.” He grins and you look at him blankly, “my father. He’s an old grump.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you put the cup down and rub your palms together, “it’s been a long day.” 

“It has indeed,” he checks his watch, “you’re almost done... I should let you finish.” He flicks his finger towards your desk, “tomorrow, the heavy lifting begins.” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. 

“Don’t forget your treats,” he points to the container, “you’ve earned it.” 

“Right, thanks again,” your smile trembles as fatigue nips at the corner of your eyes. 

“See you tomorrow morning,” he avows before he spins and goes to the door. 

You return your attention to the box as you sense him hovering at the threshold. You think he’s looking at you but you’re too nervous to check. Finally, the door closes and you exhale and close your eyes. You can’t believe how much today has taken out of you and the days to come promise much of the same. 

🏙️

You yawn as you come out of your building, eyelids heavy and itchy as you rub them with your knuckles. You hitch up your bag as you turn down the sidewalk and cross to the stop on the other side of the street. You barely slept through the anxiety and anticipation. The unknown stresses you out more than anything and you really have no idea what you’re walking into. 

You let your head lean back as you give another silent roar of fatigue. You roll your shoulders and urge yourself to wake up. You got to get with it. You can’t show up at the office half-asleep. 

The whir of an engine approaches and you look towards the direction of the bus route. Its too quiet to be a bus. Instead, there’s a vaguely familiar car that slows instead of passing. You squint and cross your arms defensively. You have to keep reminding yourself this is the city. 

The window rolls down as you bounce on your feet awkwardly, “hey,” your name rises in the deep timbre. 

You bend and find Clark smiling at you. Of course! That’s why you recognised his car. 

“Heyyyy,” you say, “what are you doing... here?” 

“Working on a story, actually. Was in the area and... what timing, huh?” He pushes his shoulder up as he keeps one hand on the steering wheel, “you on your way to work?” 

“Yup,” you answer brightly, swallowing another yawn, “bus should be here soon.” 

“The bus? Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to... that’s too far.” 

“Where do you work?” 

“Tempest,” you answer. 

“Tempest? That’s right by the paper. I’ll take you, no problem.” 

“Really?” Your brows arch dramatically, “that’s so nice of you.” 

“Of course,” he pats the passenger seat and the door unlocks with a loud click.

“I owe you one." You open the door and get in, tempted to melt into the seat. It’s so much better than the stiff ones on the bus. Ugh, your head is tenuous at best. It could start pounding at any minute. 

“How are you?” Clark asks as you buckle in. 

“Alright,” you repress yet another yawn, “how are you? How’s Melly?” 

“Melly?” He chuckles, “she’s fine, I think. I'm... fine too.” 

“Oh...” you twiddle your fingers in your lap as he slowly leans on the gas and pulls away from the curb, “just fine?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve just been... talking a lot. You know, relationship stuff,” he drives with one hand, combing his other through his hair. 

“Ah, right,” you nod, “hopefully it’s okay.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs and puts his other hand on the wheel, “you’re a good friend.” 

“I... guess,” you shrug. “I... I just think Melanie really likes you.” 

“Oh, I know she does,” he laughs, “doesn’t keep her from being... how she is. I like her too but we both know she can be very demanding.” 

“She can be,” you agree, “but I think that’s just her personality. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.” 

“Why would you want that?” he asks. 

“Er...” 

“I just mean, you’re you. Everyone’s different right and you’re just so sweet,” he says, “this world has enough Melanies.” 

“Maybe,” you turn your head and cover your mouth as you yawn at the window. 

“I’m dying for a coffee,” Clark says, his tone shifting smoothly with the topic, ��how about you? Green tea?” 

You look at him. He remembers your order? You rub your cheek and drop your hand to your lap. 

“I’m okay, but thank you--” 

“Really, it’s no big deal,” he flips the blinker on, “I need an espresso so, how about it? Iced, hot?” 

You bite the inside of your lip. You really could use a boost. You don’t often get the chance. Your bus ride is too long to factor in a cafe run. 

“Could I get a matcha latte, iced? I have some change,” you open your bag and shove your hand inside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves you off. 

“Really, you’re giving me a ride. The least I can do--” 

“The least you can do is let me buy your drink,” he insists, “because I kinda have a big favour to ask you.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, uh, it’s for Melanie. You must know her birthday is coming up.” 

“Yeah, I know--” 

“I really wanna work through things with her and I figured if I threw her a party, maybe it’s better than all this talking,” he joins the queue for the drive thru, “and you’ve known Melanie a lot longer than me so you’re like an expert. Do you think you could help me out?” 

“A birthday party? Well, I... could try. Mel’s always been the one into parties and planning and all that.” 

“I’m not good at it either but you know what she likes. I could use help at least with colours or whatever,” he suggest, “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to. I’m not going to blackmail you with a car ride and a latte.” 

You laugh rockily, “well, I could try. It wouldn’t be so bad and I should do something special. We’re both finally living in the same city. Maybe this would help with us too.” 

“Us? You and... Mel?” 

You give him a look then look through the windshield. You fidget as he rolls up to the speaker and orders. You wait until he’s done. 

“Things were awkward the other day when I crashed your date night,” you say, “I’m sure you caught on.” 

“Yeah, yeah, she wasn’t very gracious,” his tone lowers sharply. 

“It’s okay. She didn’t mean anything. I’m not upset--” 

“Did she apologise?” He asks abruptly. 

“Uh, yeah, of course, but she doesn’t have to--” 

“I think you deserve the apology,” he interrupts again. “You know, you don’t deserve to be walked all over like that. Hell, if I had friend like you, I think I’d treat you a lot better.” 

“I’m not upset,” you assure him, his mood making you uneasy. It’s flattering he would be so upset on your behalf but you’d rather just put it all behind you, “she said sorry, it’s all good.” You wiggle your foot as you think, “alright, I can help with the party.” 

“Ah, yes, you’re a life saver,” he pulls up to the window and pays. He gets the drinks and hands you the matcha before he slips his in the cup holder, “great, I’ll get your number and we can throw around ideas when you have a chance.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, I could...” the cup soaks your hands in condensation, chilling you, “I’ll do my best. I have a new assignment at work so I’ll be a bit tied up.” 

“No problem, whenever you can. Hope you don’t mind if I send you a couple of pictures I saw,” he says, “tryna come up with a vision, you know?” 

“That’s cool,” you pause to sip the matcha, nearly sighing at the refreshing flow that coats your stomach, “thank you so much for the tea.” 

“Any time,” he says as he pulls out into the street, “anything you need at all.” 

[nyx-greenwood99]

Fear of Pains pt.2

Continuation of part 1, keep in mind this will contain harsh topics like abusive childhood and abortion as well as arguing and panic attacks.

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I'd spent the day holed up in my office when I wasn't teaching. I'd held back tears and tried to keep a lid on my emotions as I taught. Flickers of how scared I was of being pregnant flitted in and out of my mind, but I knew I'd need to speak with him before making a decision.

Over the course of the day I managed myself rather well but in the lengthy classes I heard whispers from the students about how Snape had been awful today, more awful than usual. Snippy and contrite, just horrid. It wasn't until mid afternoon that I saw a student in the back of my class sobbing that I realized just how horrid he was being.

I gather my courage and bite down feelings of frustration and fear, storming to his classroom. Putting our personal issues aside he was taking his frustrations out on the students and I was not going to let that continue.

I rudely open his door to find him pacing, a glass of his usual whiskey on his desk. He stops dead in his tracks, his face flickering rapidly through emotions, first relief then anger, followed shortly by fear and finally settling into a mask of disgust.

I stop short, him never having looked at me so venomously, it truly rattled me.

"Severus we need to talk" I calmly state

"like hell, get out of my office" he bites out, mildly slurred.

I look again over at the glass, realizing he'd been drinking, drinking far too much to be normal. I shake my head, knowing he must be really upset to do something so stupid.

"Severus, you're slurring" I get a glass of water and set it on his desk.

"sit down, drink"

I point to the glass, watching him debate ignoring me. I glare at him, making it clear if he doesn't I'll force him to.

He sits begrudgingly and chugs the water, swiping his cuff over his mouth. His hair is more tousled than usual like he'd been repeatedly raking his hands through it.

"we need to talk about this morning but first, you're acting like a twat. The students have been whispering about you all day."

He shoots me a glare, clearly pissed off and loathing that I'm lecturing him on his foul behavior.

"Are you going to respond or sit there and stare?" I hiss, my anger welling up despite my attempts to control it

"I need to think" is all he says.

"you've had all day and I have a decision to make. Youre leaving me in limbo, so unless you want me to decide on my own we're discussing this"

"you're going to decide with or without me, what's the point?" He sighs, looking defeated

"I...Severus, your opinion matters....I have final say but you get to make your opinions known, I want to know what you're thinking"

I stammer, caught off guard by the fear and exhaustion in his voice. He looks up to me, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed with drink.

"you know I want to do this together" I murmur out, my voice thick with emotion

He balks, standing and pacing again, his hands raking through his hair.

"you don't understand, I can't do this! I don't want nor have need for a child, look at me!" He exclaims, his eyes wide with panic, his calm facade cracking under the weight of his emotions.

"Severus, I understand-" I try to interject

"No, you don't understand, you understand the fear, the worry of being better than both our parents were but-im the father, I'm the violent one! Its all on me, I can't be that, I can't be a father" his voice cracks, tears welling in his eyes, his panic and despair palpable.

I quickly stand, walking to him and taking his hands while he trembles, his eyes far away.

"Severus, you are not your father, you are a good man, a brave kind man" I speak sternly, holding his gaze

"I trust you, you are the man I chose, do you think I'd be with you if I feared you?" I murmur, my voice going soft and quivering.

I can't bear to see my unshakable man looking so distraught. I stroke my thumbs over his hands, soothing him and giving him a moment to breathe.

"we don't have to keep it either, I'm not ready...." I whisper, preparing for his response.

"you....you don't want it?" He hesitantly asks.

"we haven't discussed children and we're only two years in. I trust you but frankly I'm not ready. If you want them, one day maybe but not now...." My voice trembles, feeling so worried that he'll hate or resent me.

"then we won't have it" he sighs, his shoulders slumping in relief

I watch in surprise as he starts to calm

"you don't want it?" I ask

"heavens no, I love you but Merlins beard, it's far too soon to do so. We both have careers and frankly...I'm not ready either" he replies with earnest eyes.

"oh thank Merlin, I thought you were going to hate me for not wanting it" I gasp out with a nervous laugh, my tears spilling out as my emotions break free.

His eyes widen, seeing my tears and he immediately pulls me into his arms, stroking my hair tenderly

"I would never hate you for that, I want you to be happy, not force you to comply with my wants" he murmurs softly

I cry quietly into his coat, his arms staying around me in an embrace.

A few moments pass, us both calming in one anothers comfort before we pull apart, looking at one another with renewed soft affection.

"I'm so sorry, I acted like a twat. You are right, not about just the students but I should have considered how you were feeling" he gently speaks, his voice rough with emotion.

"I accept your apology...in the future just tell me what youre feeling.... we're in together, you and I" I tenderly murmur

"may I get you the potion?" He asks quietly, his eyes searching mine for any emotions of regret

"please, gods I'm so scared of it being in me" I breathe out in a quivering voice

He chuckles and retrieves it from his shelf.

"having something growing in you is rather frightening" he calmly replies, attempting to soothe my nerves.

I swig the potion, handing him the vial back. He takes my hand and pulls me over to his desk, settling into his chair and pulling me onto his lap in a rare display of deep affection.

"I.....I want to do everything with you but children....I'm terrified to repeat my father's actions" he murmurs softly against my shoulder, his arms curled around me.

"I'm terrified too, I don't want to screw a child up the way I was" I whisper back

"you'd be an excellent mother if you so chose to be one" he replies tenderly, his dark eyes glittering with adoration as he looks over my features.

"you'd be a wonderful father" I murmur

"I'm glad you think so highly of me" he mutters, almost sheepish

I kiss his forehead speaking tenderly, "maybe far down the line, but for now I'm happy to have all your attention and affections"

"my sweet girl" he rumbles, his head lolling sleepily against my shoulder as he feels his heart calm, reminded of just how perfectly flawed and wonderful our life is.

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Please let me know what you thought! I'm a bit rusty but I hope you guys enjoyed :)