#until it somehow clicks in my brain

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Jerry the Turkey gets some more friends :D

Obligatory click for better quality

You do NOT have permission to repost my art.

Sonic T-shirt requested by my sister. She's absolutely thrilled that Damian's a canonical weeb.

[red-hibiscus]

It's ok Yoh, I too am so oblivious I go on dates without knowing

[marciliedonato]

so my phone turns 1 today and i was checking it now and it totally glitched like 2 things overlapping out of nowhere so I closed the screen and when I tried to reopen it it only lets me either enter the code or scan my finger and unlock it anyway I can and the the screen is either blurred or there's nothing on it and I cant open anything the buttons don't respond and I cant even turn it off what the actual fuck I'm losing my mind fr

edit: i was able to force turn it off somehow bc it wasn't working and we're back random indian guys on youtube save the day once again

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[m0r1bund]

Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts

My comic for “Queer Compassion in 15 Comics,” a collaborative anthology that blends social science and art to illustrate LGBTQ+ experiences of compassion. You can read it online for free, or purchase a physical copy at that link :)

I was asked to write a statement about this piece, which I will share here:

There are some difficult feelings in the comic about estrangement, belonging, and cultural longing. The story didn’t click for me, though, until I started reading the stories of others in the community from the research. There’s a lot of beauty in there, but there’s also a lot of hurt. I wanted to squeeze everyone’s hands and somehow find the perfect words of comfort— and isn’t that all that anyone wants to do when they see family going through it? So I started thinking of it as a call-and-response between you, at your lowest point, and the ghosts of your ancestors. If they could talk to you, what would they say? “Look—you’re safe and fed.” “You’re alive.” “How magnificent!” “You can cry, but wouldn’t it feel better if you did it in the shower?” “Now hold my hand and walk with me.” “Take care of yourself.” “Brush your teeth.” “Text her back.” “We love you.”

It’s surreal to share this. I began working with the anthology crew in 2021, towards the beginning of my undergrad. In just under a week, I’ll be graduating. This project has been living in the back of my brain for the past three years, a source of comfort and catharsis. Now we get to inflict it on all of you, hahahaha…!! Sincerely, I feel so lucky to have been able to participate in it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who leaves their touch on this anthology— scientists, artists, interviewees, readers, and beyond.

[ozzgin]

OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG

*jitters with excitement*

I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME

Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems

To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"

*drops dead*

*instantly revives*

Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:

- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol

- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy

- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...

content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!

Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.

Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.

Safe to say you're now quite drunk.

That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.

"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.

You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.

The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.

"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.

The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.

Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.

"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"

"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.

He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.

The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.

"Please, I really need to-"

You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...

Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.

"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.

The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.

"Nonsense. You're drunk."

"I mean it", you repeat yourself.

He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.

Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.

"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."

For now, his tongue will have to do.

[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[naomiarai]

— desperate !

╔. ■ .═══════╗

sex with your enemy

╚═══════. ■

➤ PAIRING — jake × fem! reader

➤ GENRE — pwop, slight fluff, (but literally no plot), kind of fwb? e2???

➤ WARNINGS — dom!jake, sub!reader, jake is kinda mean (?), manhandling, degradation, unprotected sex, backshots, kissing. lmk if i missed anything.

➤ WC — 1.3k

➤ AUTHOR — not proofread. i had a jake brain rot idk what happened but i put my SOUL into writing it even though it’s quite short. but again idk how i feel about it.

“I fucking hate you!” you shout, your voice shaking with anger as Jake drags you into an empty bedroom. The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing in the small, dimly lit space.

Jake clicks his tongue in response, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah? You always seem to fucking forget that when you’re sitting on my dick” he retorts, venom dripping from his words. His grip tightens on your arm, and in one swift motion, he lifts your skirt, his touch rough and demanding.

Youyr breath catches in your throat, a mix of fury and desire swirling inside you. “You’re such a jerk” you spit out, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound resolute.

Jake’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “Maybe. But you like it, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and taunting. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite your anger.

You struggle against him, but the resistance only seems to fuel his determination. “Let go of me” you demand, though even you can hear the faltering in your voice.

His hand moves from your skirt to your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. “Say it again” he challenges, his tone daring you to defy him. “Tell me how much you hate me”

“I do!” you whisper, your voice barely audible as his touch ignites a fire within you that you can’t control. “I hate you”

JJake’s laugh is a dark, hollow sound. “Liar” he murmurs before his lips crash against yours, silencing any further protest.

Your hands come up to push him away, but they falter, instead grasping the fabric of his shirt. His kiss is punishing, demanding, and you respond with equal fervor, anger and desire intertwining until you can no longer differentiate them.

Jake chuckles when you pull him even closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Saliva starts to pool at the corners of your lips, creating a wet, heated mess between you. He pulls away, breathless, his calloused hands gripping your ass possessively. “Just like all the others, ready to spread her legs wide for dick” he rasps, his voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and lust.

His words ignite a flare of anger deep within you, your eyes narrowing as you retort, “And you’d stick your stupid dick inside any fucking hole that presents itself” The tension crackles between you, electric and charged. His gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is that what you think?” he growls, his hands roaming your body with a roughness that leaves you breathless. ”That I’m just some mindless animal looking for a place to stick it? When you were practically fucking Heeseung out there? You have no idea what you do to me”. The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly.

You struggle to maintain your composure, your own hands clawing at his back in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t flatter yourself” you hiss, though your voice wavers. “You're nothing special”

His laugh is dark and humorless, his grip tightening on your flesh. “We’ll see about that” he murmurs, before capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

You melt into his touch again, cursing at yourself for doing it so easily. Jake’s hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, yet somehow the sensation of his touch makes your skin tingle. He pulls away from your lips, his breath hot and ragged, and you see the flicker of raw desire in his eyes. In one swift motion, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cold, hard surface of the nearby table.

The unexpected pressure against your body sends a shiver down your spine, your pussy throbbing and pulsating with need. You can feel your arousal soaking through the delicate fabric of your white thong, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “So fucking wet already” he murmurs mockingly, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hand lifts your skirt, exposing your soaked underwear to his hungry gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat as you decide to push his buttons, a dangerous game that excites you to no end. “Heeseung probably has a bigger dick” you whisper, your voice dripping with defiance and mischief. The words hang in the air, a clear provocation meant to stoke the flames of his jealousy and possessiveness.

Jake's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh almost painfully. You can feel the tension radiating off him, a mixture of anger and arousal that makes your heart race. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Is that so?” he growls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Then let me know if he fucks you like this”. He zips down just enough for him his cock to spring out, tip red and angry, leaking precum

With a rough tug, he tears your thong away, the sound of ripping fabric mingling with your gasp. His hands spread your legs wider, positioning you perfectly for him. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

Jake thrusts into you without warning, filling you to the hilt in one hard, punishing stroke. The sudden invasion makes you cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice harsh and breathless. “You like being fucked like this? Like a slut?” His words send shivers through you, the degradation only heightening your arousal.

“Yes—god” you gasp, barely able to form the word as he continues to pound into you. “Jake p..please! —hnng”

His hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The combined sensations are overwhelming, pushing you toward the brink of ecstasy. You can already feel your orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap. One of Jake’s hand grabs at your asscheeks, spreading it open to sink how cock in deeper, causing you to let out a string of moans.

“Mmhm— right there! don’t stop” you moan out with a string of moans. Jake laughs at you meanly, “Stupid slut, look at you going clueless now” he says but you’re too out of it to give him an answer.

“Cum for me” Jake commands, his voice rough with his own need. “C’mon, aren’t you desperate to milk this cock baby?”

His words are your undoing. With a strangled cry, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jake follows soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his release, spilling into you with a groan.

For a moment, the world is a blur of sensation, the intensity of your shared climax leaving you both breathless and trembling. As the waves of pleasure subside, Jake pulls out of you slowly, his hands gentle now as he helps you stand.

You turn to face him, your legs still shaky, and meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that makes your heart ache. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both catch your breath.

In that moment, you realize that despite the intensity, despite the games and the jealousy, there’s something deeper between you and Jake. Something that goes beyond the physical, something that might just be worth exploring.

But for now, you’re content to just be in his arms, savoring the afterglow of your shared passion.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

summary: steve is plagued by bad dreams. one night, he needs a little help finding his way back. [3.8k]

content warnings: roommate!steve, hurt/comfort, night terrors/ptsd, panic attack?, copious amounts of pining, could actually be either canon compliant or au depending on how you want to interpret his nightmares, this was mostly just an excuse to write sad cuddles with stevie

a/n: no, this most certainly has not been sitting in my drafts for the last 9 months. what are you talking ab-? ok, yeah, it definitely has. but i finally got my shit together! everybody cheer! [p.s. mar ily to the actual ends of the earth thank u for proofing this for me]

as always, please reblog if you enjoy! xx (if you're feelin really crazy, you could even say smth nice)

dividers by @strangergraphics

It's a knock against your bedroom door that wakes you. A quiet rap of knuckles on wood so soft that you nearly fall back asleep after convincing yourself you must've dreamt the noise entirely— until it sounds again.

A soft grumble of confusion escapes you as you push your weight onto your forearm to sit up in bed, using the knuckles of one hand to rub sleep from your eyes and squinting toward your bedroom door in confusion; fighting to focus the way that the faint light coming in through your bedroom window illuminates the hallway through the crack in the door. The familiarity of the shadowy figure slowly solidifies under your hazy gaze.

“Steve?” You call out in question, voice a little hoarse from disuse.

“Yeah.”

His voice is quiet on the other side of the door, the sound more of a breathy exhale than a word, really. You run your fingers through sleep-mussed hair as you try to focus on the clock on the bedside table. Your brain can barely comprehend the early hour, even as the clock clicks quietly, the last number flipping as one minute gives way to the next. It takes a few seconds, but your eyes begin to adjust to the dark rather quickly and it's with newly awakened attention that you turn toward the door again.

“You can come in.” You call out softly, your words slightly less scratchy with sleep now that your drowsiness has begun to bleed away and the quiet night around you comes more and more into focus.

The door creaks open a little further after a moment and you find Steve there in the dark. His chest is heaving, his lungs expanding and deflating rapidly beneath his ribs. The sound of his quick breaths is loud in the silence, bare feet shuffling against the hardwood in the hallway as he continues to stand just outside the door.

You wait, but he makes no move to enter. He looks so meek like this. His sharper edges have been softened and shrunken by the weight of his anxiety. The threadbare tshirt that's stretched across his shoulders hangs loose around his neck. You can see the crooked line of scattered moles you love so much decorating the line of his throat and eventually disappearing beneath the fabric, though the cotton sags enough to reveal a bit of the hair below his collarbones.

It all makes him appear smaller, somehow. Like a man so much younger than he is. Like a boy standing in the dark outside of his parent's bedroom, patiently awaiting comfort.

“Sorry. For wakin' you up.” Steve manages quietly, his words clipped.

The full-blown panic attack he'd been on the brink of moments before in the privacy of his own bedroom had receded, but just barely. The world around him still shifted in and out of focus, a buzzing sort of white noise filling his ears like cotton.

He glances up at you— Where you've pushed up onto your elbow to squint at him in the dark, your face baring the faint imprint of creases from your pillowcase. Steve spares a fleeting thought to how lovely you look like this, sleep-induced wrinkles on your cheeks and heavy lidded eyes. But he's only granted a moment to admire the sight before the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears forces his gaze to drop to the floorboards again.

With difficulty, he swallows past the lump lodged in his throat, pinching his eyes shut for a moment when a discarded pair of jeans on your bedroom floor look just a bit too much like a thick, crawling vine making its way toward him in the dark.

“No! No, it's okay,” You're reassuring him in a rush, “What's wrong?”

“I, uh.. I-I need your help.” His admission comes out a little like it causes him physical pain to say it out loud. His fingers shake as they comb through the sweaty hair that's flopped down over his forehead in sleep, pushing it back from his face, though a few stubborn strands immediately break free and curl over his brow again.

“Okay,” You readjust yourself on the mattress, pushing yourself to sit up a little straighter, crossing your legs beneath the blankets while you watch him in confusion, “Y'can come in.” You repeat softly.

“I just-” Steve pants, voice hoarse with the way his labored breaths have dried out his throat, “I-”

“Steve?” Your skin has begun to prickle with that itch that tells you something isn't right, but lingering drowsiness fogs your brain just enough that the severity of it hasn't quite sunken in.

His gaze flicks once again to the rumpled pile of denim on your bedroom floor, one pant-leg outstretched in his direction, and the longer he keeps his eyes trained on it, the more the shape of it melts into the dark vines from his nightmare. He blinks, just once, and he swears the thing fucking moves. He thinks it might be crawling its way across the scuffed floorboards, toward him-

Steve's panicked breathing picks up, and your own heart ticks a little faster with worry. You watch as Steve's hand meets the trim around your doorway, his long fingers curling tight around the wood as he tries to steady his wobbly legs.

He makes an awful sound, like he's suffocating. He's nearly gasping for air, choking on the words as he pushes them out, “I- I can't-”

The blankets that cover your lap have already been tossed haphazardly to the side as you stumble from the bed in a rush. You're reaching out for him even as your mind struggles to comprehend what's wrong — why it is that he seems to be panicking.

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” You soothe as gently as you can manage, doing your best to push your own anxieties down to focus on the man in front of you. “Steve-”

His cheeks are warm beneath your palms as your hands find either side of his face, thumbs dragging soft over the apples of his cheeks while your fingertips tangle lightly in the tufts of hair that curl out from behind his ears. The ragged breaths rushing past his lips fall over your face when you guide his gaze up from the floor to meet your own, his dry lips parted and quivering with every exhale.

“It's okay, you're okay.” Your words don't come out nearly as firm as you want, one of your hands leaving his cheek to drag over his sweaty forehead. 

Your fingertips smooth over the furrowed line of his eyebrow before falling back to his cheek and finally settling over the column of his throat. His racing pulse thumps soft against your hand, a barely-there fluttering like a hummingbird's wings flapping beneath his skin.

Steve reaches up. His sweaty palm grips your wrist so tight it aches while his head tips a little farther into your touch. He lets out a shaky breath once he makes it just one small step through the doorway.

“What is it? What d'you need my help with?” You ask, voice a little airy with concern.

His chest continues to rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths, and with the help of the soft glow of the streetlight outside your window, you manage to catch the longing glance that he casts to the bed behind you. You're quick to guide him toward it, back peddling until you feel the cushion of the mattress against the backs of your thighs. You settle into the rumpled blankets again and tug at Steve's hand until he has little choice but to climb in after you.

“What is it? What's wrong?” You ask, words whisper-soft.

It takes a moment before his breathing has calmed enough for him to respond, the clock on the bedside table clicking quietly once more as one minute flips to the next, the sound of Steve's ragged inhales and shaky exhales drowning out the silence of the night.

“I, uh. God, it sounds so stupid now, but I-I had this dream,” Steve starts slowly. His trembling fingers prompt you to tighten your grip on the large hand still cradled in your own as he continues, “It was- Fuck, I just- It was a bad one and I-” A harsh breath is forced past his lips, “Feel like I'm still dreaming.. Even now, I feel like.. Like everything's about to flip on its side n' then the nightmare'll take over-”

Your heart cracks at the wobble in his voice, and you can't help but reach up to smooth some of the bedhead back from his face once again, “You're not, though. You're awake,” You promise softly, “You're with me, you're safe.”

“Well, to be fair, you'd probably say that in my dream too, though, right?” Steve points out with a weak laugh, muscles in his jaw tense as he gives a self-deprecating shake of his head.

The dim light pouring in from outside catches the sharp line of his jaw, casts a pretty glow over his long lashes when his downcast eyes focus on the mess of blankets surrounding the two of you. In any normal situation, you'd be ecstatic to have Steve in your bed. But tonight, in the presence of his distress, that elation is decidedly overcome by something more akin to sorrow.

“Yeah, I guess I probably would,” You laugh quietly, though it's a joyless sounding thing, “What can I do then? How can I help?”

“I dunno, I just- I.. Didn't wanna be alone, I guess.” His voice is quiet, embarrassed maybe, and it only makes that urge to pull him into your arms that much stronger.

“You never have to be alone.” You tell him. And you mean it.

“Right,” Steve nods once, adam's apple bobbing in his throat when he swallows, “Thanks.”

You want to help. God, you ache to help — but you have no idea where to start.

“How.. How do you usually bring yourself back after you wake up? When you are alone?”

“Sometimes I, uh, I count my fingers-” His voice is scratchy as he speaks.

He brings one of his hands in the narrow space between you with a small, playful waggle of his fingers. But both of your gazes fall to the slight tremble of his hand, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“-I read somewhere once, 'm pretty sure, that if you're dreaming, the number of fingers? On your hand? It'll be off.” His words come out choppy, unsure. Like he's expecting you to misunderstand him.

“Off.. Like, you'll have twelve fingers or something?” You clarify carefully.

“More or less.” He shrugs like it doesn't mean much, but you know it does. “It's stupid. And I'm probably not even remembering it right-”

“It's not stupid,” You insist, continuing only a moment later when he only frowns in response, “You are not stupid, Steve Harrington.”

Steve laughs weakly, the sound dejected and harsh, “That's a first.” He jokes.

Now's not the time to get into it, not really, but his words make your stomach twist with a pained emotion you can't quite name. You find yourself needing to reassure him just once more, even if he might not believe you.

“I mean it.”

He doesn't respond to that, though his eyes shine a little at his waterline. The silence that follows feels heavy enough to smother you both. Another click sounds from your alarm clock, seemingly louder now, though you know its volume is the same as it always is.

“You.. Y're warm,” Steve whispers after a moment, tongue poking out to wet his dry lips before his eyes flick up to meet your own, “That helps, y'know? Because there's no warm or cold in.. in dreams.”

You squeeze his hand once before pushing up onto your knees and turning to prop a couple of pillows up against the headboard. You lean back into the cushion when you're done and urge him to lay with you with a small wave of your hand.

Steve only hesitates for a second before he follows your silent command, crawling forward as you fall back with a sense of familiarity. The two of you move a bit like there's a tether connecting you to one another. It's easy. Like it could just be a ordinary Thursday night, settling onto the sofa in the living room for the newest episode of Night Court. The simple normalcy of it has a shaky sigh tumbling past his lips when his head finally meets your chest, and he all-but melts into your side.

“How's this? Okay?” You ask cautiously. When Steve nods, lightly-stubbled cheek scraping against your shirt, you wrap an arm around him and take both of his hands into your smaller ones, “D'you wanna count with me?”

“Please.” Steve's response comes so quiet, so vulnerable.

You've never seen him like this. You're flooded with the overwhelming urge to protect him, to shield him away from every bad dream he's ever had, and every one that threatens to haunt him in the future. He avoids your gaze though his face is upturned toward your own, his chin dipped into his chest so he can focus on the way your joined hands fit together.

It's slow going. You fold Steve's fingers down one at a time, the two of you counting them off together beneath whispered breaths. 

He audibly sighs in relief when you finish his first hand with five fingers, and his breaths truly begin to even out as you carefully curl your palm around his knuckles and fold down finger number ten on his other hand. 

The moment you finish, Steve is grabbing one of your wrists in a gentle grip, his thumbs smoothing over your soft skin before he starts to count off the fingers on your hand as well, silently this time. He continues to calm, though it's a gradual thing. The once rapid heaving of his chest slows imperceptibly. His body relaxes more heavily into your own.

His whispered counting comes to a stop when he reaches your last finger, but he doesn't release you. You allow your free hand to card through his hair all the while, combing delicately through the silky strands, damp as they may be. Your fingertips rub over his scalp softly while he continues to toy with the fingers of your opposite hand.

“You okay?” You murmur in question after a few minutes have clicked by in the silence.

“Yeah.. Yeah, 'm fine.” Steve admits quietly, and he almost means it. He's comfortable here, in your arms — far more comfortable than he thinks he has any right to be. He narrows his eyes as he focuses determinedly on the smooth length of your fingers beneath his own, “Sorry. I just- I mean, Jesus Christ, 's fucking humiliating-”

“Would you.. Do you want to talk about the dream?” You interrupt carefully.

Steve doesn't say anything for a moment, and you're about to reassure him that doesn't need to tell you anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Usually, it's these.. Well, they're kinda bats.. But also not..?” He chuckles darkly, squeezing your hand once before loosening his grip and unfolding your fist.

He begins straightening your fingers one at a time, his thumb stroking soft along the inside of each one as he continues, “Tonight it was the vines. Sometimes.. Sometimes it's this.. This giant thing. Made up of blood and flesh, but in all the wrong ways. 'n there're these face-less, alien-looking...” He pauses like he's debating the final word, “'s just.. It's kid shit, y'know? Or, maybe horror movie shit. Just.. Monsters.”

“It doesn't sound like kid shit. It's.. It sounds terrifying. Honestly.” You acknowledge when he falls silent, your fingers still combing gently through his hair. “The bats..?” You repeat, leaving the word open in question.

“The bats..” Steve swallows, no longer counting your fingers but merely stroking the length of them idly as he speaks, “They're huge. Like, the size of a fuckin' hawk. But they've also got, like, four tails? N' I dunno if bats even have tails, normally. But they just- Just tear into you 'til you either bleed out or wake up.”

The motion of your hand running through his hair stutters, but just for a moment, “Jesus,” You pause for only a second before you have to ask, “And the vines?”

“They're.. Damn, what's the word? Sentient, kind of?” He explains in a soft rasp, “And strong as all hell. If they get ahold of you, you're not gettin away, y'know? They wrap around your limbs and you're stuck. They- they wrap around your neck and you can't fuckin' breathe.”

The air seems to catch in his chest at just the memory. A small hitch in his purposefully steady breathing that has you readjusting on the mattress to press yourself that much harder into his warmth.

“I'm sorry-” Your chin presses into the crown of his hair for a moment.

The gesture is meant to comfort him, and you hope it does, even as your nose fills with the scent of his expensive shampoo and a delicious, sleepy scent that's entirely Steve. It makes your stomach swoop familiarly, though you try to push the feeling down. 

“-That all sounds awful.” 

He swallows thickly before continuing in a quiet voice, “And it's not just me, y'know? More often than not it's the people I care about. It's Robin, or the kids, or Nance and Jonathan. It's-” 

His voice grows hoarse with emotion before he cuts off to lick at his lips, head tipping back. His wide, earnest gaze flicks up to you, his eyebrows pinched with something pained. 

“Sometimes it's you, and that's- Fuck, 's worse. So much worse than when it's just me. Christ, it's fucking scary. Having to watch any of you dying.. Bleeding out, right in front of me — and there's nothing I can do, I can only watch-”

“I know it doesn't feel like it, but they're just dreams, Steve,” You whisper carefully, “That's all they are. They can't hurt us, any of us.. And they can't hurt you.”

He nods once after giving your words a moment to sink in, stubble on his chin scratching softly against the cotton of your shirt. You ache to say more, to find the right words to magically make it all better, but you know there's no articulation that will serve as such an all-healing balm. Even if there was, he's gone this long without someone to placate him with empty, pitying promises, and the absolute last thing you want is to make him feel any smaller than he already does.

Silence falls over the room again like a weighted blanket, a contented sort of quiet that you're both grateful for. 

The rumble of a lone car cuts through the night, headlights colliding with shadows against the far wall. The glow reflects on the window as the car comes and goes, and for just a brief moment, you get a clear view of the twin beauty marks on his cheek — You have to rein in the all-encompassing urge to drag your thumb over them.

Now's not the time.

But you do wonder what it might be like, to share a bed with Steve under more normal circumstances. What it would feel like to wake in the late hours of the night and have his head resting on the pillow beside your own. For your sheets to hold that musky, sleep-riddled scent that lingers on his skin now.

You watch Steve's full lashes flutter as he blinks, his unfocussed gaze trained on the way your fingers curl and straighten under his own ministrations, bending them this way and that as his thumb presses into the meat of your palm. Your tongue has gone heavy in your mouth with the words you long to say:

I want you.

I love you.

I'll protect you.

You push them down, tough as they are to swallow, and instead break the silence as gently as you can, “You know, you can always come in here after a bad dream. Even if it's not as bad as tonight. If this helps, then I want you to.. I don't want you to worry about waking me up or-”

“Thanks, I- Yeah, maybe.” Steve murmurs noncommittally.

“Steve,” You speak sternly. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you carefully tip his head back, his chin jutting up as he's forced to look at you. “I mean it. You're more than just my roommate. We- We're friends. I care about you. I don't mind.”

Steve swallows, hesitates. His adam's apple bobs before he nods his head in your hold slowly, “Okay.” He says finally, a weight that he didn't realize was even there suddenly lifts from his shoulders.

You allow yourself to drag your thumb lovingly over the long line of his brow, just once. A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips, “Then it's settled.”

The wonky streetlight outside your window flickers for a moment-

You probably wouldn't have even paid the momentary darkness a second thought if not for the way Steve stiffens suddenly. The flickering only lasts a second or two before it re-settles into that same dim stream of light that always illuminates your bedroom at night, but Steve lets out an audible breath of relief when it does.

Neither of you mention it, but the shakiness of that gust of air when it pushed past his lips is nearly enough to break your heart.

You watch the way his jaw flexes, your gaze drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck covered only by the long, curling ends of his hair. You can almost make out his jumping pulse at the hollow of his throat, the dark shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly as Steve forces the too-quick beat of his heart to slow once again.

You're about to ask him if he's okay, but Steve must feel it coming, because he manages to speak first.

“You should get back to sleep.” He says softly.

He releases your hand to prop himself up on an elbow, a small gap of space growing between you that feels so much larger than it is.

Your hand slips from the hair at the back of Steve's head, but you manage to grab ahold of his bicep.

“Do you wanna stay?” You find yourself asking.

“Y'sure?” Steve asks in surprise, “I mean, you.. really don't mind if I stay?” He questions cautiously, golden eyes wide and entirely too pretty, looking a little like even after all this, he can't quite believe you'd let him stick around any longer than necessary.

In lieu of responding, you slip further underneath the blankets. You roll onto your back and open your arms — a silent beckoning for him to join you.

Steve huffs a soft breath through his nose, a relieved sounding thing. The walls that he was rushing to put back up just a moment before crumble in an instant, the stiff set of his shoulders falling slack as well. He drops his head down onto the pillow beside you before draping an arm around your waist to drag you back against his chest.

You're lulled back to sleep by the soft puffs of breath he lets out against your neck and the warm weight of his body wrapped around you.

The last thing you'd ever wish for is for Steve to suffer, but you can't help finding yourself somewhat looking forward to the next time he'll crawl into bed with you — Regardless of the circumstances.

You're more than happy to be his rock.

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ love and deepspace men and their random habits

warnings: none!!

characters: rayafel, xavier, zayne, sylus

link to master list here!

author’s note: feeling like a short and sweet one today, sometimes writing more than i want can take the fun out of writing so i’ll stick true to myself this time 🗣️

more below the cut! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

he like, drums his fingers a lot. you know like that rhythmic tapping on desks?

rafayel enjoys moving around his fingers and stimulating his brain in little ways whilst he’s waiting for some paint to dry to paint another layer or when waiting for you to finish an activity.

he also picks at things, paint on the wall or at scabs (bad habit, you tell him but he never stops) - he complains and says it doesn’t hurt when you bandage it up

rafayel hates growing out his fingernails but he doesn’t bite them, he tends to pick them until they peel shorter then clip them neat with nail clippers

how to combat both his picking habit and nail peeling at the same time? slap on some nail polish, he gets to peel to his hearts content and look amazing at the same time!

“Cutie, come here. I peeled off all my nail polish, can you redo it?”

i feel like in game xavier already blinks quite a lot more than all the LIs, but i can see him also doing those like, long hard reset blinks

he’ll blink loads at once then do this longer blink and then be fine, i can just see him doing this

maybe it’s because his hair looks like it’d get in and irritate his eyes lolol

when you and him get plushies he keeps the ones he keeps on his bed, i feel like he’s usually minimalistic when designing his house but his bed??

it’s like a plushie fortress, when you visit you could literally drown in them

“I like sleep, and I like you. It’s the best of both worlds, want to join me?”

zayne is the type of person to ACTUALLY rub his temples, like what person actually does that? zayne of course.

he also subconsciously clicks pens a lot, not loud and at a high frequency - but if you pay attention to his hands you’ll notice he gently clicks and then un-clicks the pen when in deep thought

he definitely does this more when he’s stressed, the feeling of the pen popping out against his thumb is therapeutic

zayne keeps around fake plants and a watering can because he somehow found a sick sense of amusement watching you water them every time you came to his office.

“Why am I smiling? No reason.”

he genuinely rubs his hands together and it makes sylus look like a fly, he just looks so sinister and mischievous when he does it

if you ask him why he rubs his hands together he just shrugs his shoulders

“Just habit, sweetheart.”

really it’s because he has sweaty palms LMAOO and he’s an old man, of course he’s gonna do old man things

i feel like sylus likes to chew on things, imagine one time you catch him clenching his jaw and decide to give him some gum

it’s not like he doesn’t know what gum is he just never really though about buying some

after that you find stacks of gum in his draws and he’s always chewing a piece, the only thing he dislikes is discarding gum.

AN; silly silly men doing silly silly things, i didn’t think too much about these just slurred random ideas and wrote them down LMAO

[shuenkio]

Naughty neighbor | Sim. J 😈

Paring: Stalker!Jake x male!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+ [don't like don't press]

Cw: cum inside, rough, dirty talk, swearing, obsession behavior, bad .

Summary: Your lovely neighbors who you thought of as a golden retriever but turn out he's a stalker.

Non proof read/ wc: 1.6k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

A|N: I accidentally wrote it smut oops | @ddeonuswhre special thanks to you for the idea 🐱💡hope you're having a great time pookie.

[Ignore my edit, it's suck]

Moving to another home, just because of your workplace, was exhausting. However, when one of your co-workers, who is also your friend, told you that this neighborhood was full of hot guys and friendly people, as a result, you immediately moved in without hesitation.

Not to mention, it's better to stay here for a while. The scenario, the weather—it was pretty good for your own mental health as an office siren. At least you can enjoy the view while stressing your brain off. By your own pure luck, you were able to get a month of vacation off since you're the best employee of the month and the summer season is approaching.

Your boss probably won a lottery ticket; that's why they don't care if you're still working. Nevertheless, beside your tiny, little house, there's a guy next to you.

He seems like a fun guy, to be honest, at first glance. His face shape screams so much that he's an Australian citizen. Well, maybe you're in Australia right now? His smile, however, always did something to you, even if it was a greeting gesture.

He looks gentle and kind; his aura exudes the energy of a golden retriever. From your point of view, whenever you saw him, he was kind to the other neighbors. And his name is Jake. Your friends didn't lie about what they'd said about this vicinity.

Unbeknownst to you, all the scenes you saw in him were just his fake acting. Jake did all those corny things just because he wanted to get the attention of you, whom he'd had eyes on ever since you moved in. He thought that, never in his life, he had seen such a person as you. You look really soft and sweet, like fresh vanilla in your aura.

You're also an adorable little guy who's brave enough to live by himself in a small place beside him like this. He always wants to take your virginity away from you.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow. Birds chirped softly, and the fresh scent of dew filled the air.

It's 8 a.m., and you're waking up to start off your day by watering your flower garden in front of your backyard.

As you hold your watering can, splashing wet on your beautiful plants, you see Jake is also in his front yard, while he's stretching from the back pain you're assuming.

Being the good neighbor you are, you greet him with a small talk, asking about this and that until you invite him for tea.. At first, Jake denied it, but you're insisted. Yet deep down, he had been waiting for this moment forever.

You then prepare for the table before serving him the tea that you had brought from your home town.

"So Jake? What are you doing for a living?" You said, putting down your cup as you focused on him.

"Not much of the higher-paying job; I'm just the owner of a small coffee shop down the road, and you?" He responded, taking a small sip as he clicked his tongue as a sign of taste.

"I'm working as a manager in the management of marketing; it's doing some justice for my life, but it's also burning keke." You reply with a sly smile along with your chuckle. I found it somehow funny that you're the manager now.

"You look like you're not an Australian m/n; I have never had time to ask about you this." Jake mutters, folding his fingers together, while observing your face while you're not paying attention.

"Yes, I'm not; I'm from ///, and I see it's rare to find my people here."

"That's why you look handsome; I mean it." Jake snorts in polite manners as you laugh along to hide your face. Which makes you want to stay here longer just to chitchat with Jake.

Suddenly, you heard your phone ring inside your house before you excused yourself to pick up the call. As perfect timing as he planned to, a dark smirk appeared on his face. As he puts something in your cup of tea, pick up the spoon on the table and mix it up. A few minutes later, you came back as you settled yourself in your seat again. You ask him if he's bored, but he says it's nothing.

The moment of silence suddenly awkward the scenes as you obliviously take a sip with your drink till your cup is empty.

Out of nowhere, you feel a pang inside your skull as you feel like there's a drum inside your brain. Keep hitting on you.

It's hurtful and dizzy at the same time. Aside from having a sudden headache, you also experience the hotness of sweat leaking out of your skin.

It's getting hot unexpectedly, as if you just got chased by a bear. Trying to hide your unstable condition, you stand up to get yourself a glass of water.

Due to the aphrodisiac kick, you fall down to the wooden floor. Jake still put on his mask as he expressed his concerns to you, asking if you're okay.

Before he pulls you up, taking you inside to your bedroom, he locks the door behind him. Jake put you down on your bed, gently, as he took off your socks and tucked away, according to your request.

"I'm so sorry, Jake, for the trouble. I don't know why I'm feeling so hot all at once" You mumble in your stuttering, low tone. Hot sweat is still dripping down on your forehead and everything. It feels weird, but that's not the only place that's hot.

You feel like your boxer is tightening from your hard dick. A scowl creased Jake's forehead, deepening the lines around his mouth. His brows furrowed, casting shadows over his eyes, filling them with excitement.

He couldn't wait any longer to show his true colors as your creepy stalker. Jake has had eyes on you ever since you're moving in; it's like a love at first sign to say, but it's in a sexual way.

At night, while you're asleep, he sneakily installs many hidden small cameras in every corner of your house, including the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Every move he made got you wrapped around his finger.

There's no privacy for you to have your time, chilling in your bed thinking you're alone, but deep down, your golden retriever neighbors enjoy the views of your face every single day. Even when you're in the shower, Jake would be sitting in front of his computer, fantasizing about all the nasty things with you.

He masturbates and touches himself from time to time when he feels like working up or missing you. For now, the plan that he has been working on is finally taking shape. He won't let it slip away and lose this perfect opportunity to have you, screaming his name, ruining your virginity.

Nonetheless, Jake's eyebrows shot up in astonishment as you begged for him to help you.

"J-J...ake, please help me take this hotness away; I feel like I'm dying." You said it half-conscious, rubbing your hand on your chest, feeling like fuel was burning on the inside of you.

"Don't worry, ma'boy, I'm going to make you feel at ease once I do my magic." Jake leans down to your earlobe, whispering. Before he tears up your clothes, drop them to the floor as he begins to strip himself while kneeling on your bed.

His cock was spring-free, standing so proud as he exposed his naked self in front of you. You were so fuck up that you want nothing but to erase those fires in your body; your body language is inviting him itself at this point.

"I won't stop just so you know, m/n, I'm going to make you can't walk once I'm inside—I'm going to fuck the life out of you till you beg for it, my dearest." The next thing you know, you feel a huge meat enter your entrance, spreading you in an instant without him warning you.

Results in a sign of pleasure, leaving your mouth open. A shockwave was sent to Jake's body, and he grunted loudly at the sensation. Making him buck up his hip, craving more pleasure. Before thrusting his cock in, as deep as he can at his first attempt.

"Holy, fucking shit, m/n, you feel like heaven, nrghh, let me have you more." Jake moans desperately, biting his plump lip to take pleasure once again. His cock continues to throb inside of you; your walls are clenching on him so tight that his hips are moving in and out unstoppably, fucking you roughly as a response to your body language.

"Jake, I think I'm going to squirt, ahh."

"Why not m/n~ *moaning* shot on me? I don't fucking care if it's dirty; just let me fuck you." Jake is shouting loudly at your statement, leaning down his lip to capture you, pulling you into a French kiss as his hip is still moving inside you.

"Let me fill you in, yeah? I think I'm coming. *huff huff* You let me hah?" Jake said in demand, and his orgasm started to build inside of him. You got the best of yourself, unable to decline his request as you braced yourself to welcome his request.

"ERG" Last but not least, Jake felt his cock twitching, growing hard as a metal between your stretching wall, as he exploding in your anal, filling you with his big load of a warm oragsm. In unison, you're also cumming to his sensation of him, hitting your sweet spot at the final thrust, which makes you shoot out uncontrollably.

Jake collapsed on your body, being too sensitive to the shockwave he had experienced earlier. Stop moving his hip as he sucking for oxygen sharply.

"T... thanks you, Jake; I feel a little better."

"We can do this all day, 7 days a week, to make you feel better every day, ma boy, haha. For now, let's consider our relationship  together."

"How about fuck, buddy?"

"No, I want all of you M/N" 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ I know there's indeed a mistake in this, sorry in advance 🫶. Improve how to write better.

I REPEAT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, NOTHING IS REFLECT TO THE REAL LIFE EVENT.

[akiranzee]

idea: a very drunk Hashira! reader trying (and somehow succeeding) to rizz up muzan. They hit it off and later on in the final battle, reader who is very shy when sober, finds them again and both just remember that they hooked up-

🥃 • ° ` — “LIQUOR AND SINS”

-> PAIRINGS: Muzan Kibutsuji x Gn!Drunk!Hashira!Y/n -> SUMMARY: The night when your life changed. -> WORD COUNT: 1.5k+ -> CONTAINS: suggestive content, mentions of violence, swearing, muzan’s demon form, drinking, muzan is 1000 while reader is 27. -> A/N: sry if u wanted this smut, its on my rules that i don’t accept smut reqs from anons. i hope u still like this tho!!

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------------Complete!------------

February 14, was the day you finally managed to defeat an uppermoon. Uppermoon 5, to be exact. Surely you’ll celebrate for this wonderful achievement, right? Of course you will.

You’ve been fighting and training hard for five years, of course you’ll let loose a little, just for today.

The other hashiras, especially Mitsuri really wanted you to come with them since they’re having a celebration of their own too, but you turned down the offer.

A cold, peaceful night such as this is something you’d like to keep yourself to.

The bells jingled as you opened the door of a small bar, and ordered for liquor.

It was safe to say, that you can atleast handle a few booze, but having six is just… a little bit too much.

You were a stumbling mess when you attempted to go to the bathroom, your weapon slipping out of your hand in the process.

And that caught a certain someone’s attention.

As you stepped in the woman’s bathroom, you immediately made your way to the sink, and puked your heart out. You didn’t even hear the door open and close, even when the lock clicked.

You panted, the dizziness was still around, something you probably can’t shake off up until tomorrow. For a demon slayer, you’re a one hell of a light drinker, all right.

But despite that, your sight can never waver, for even if it was all a blur, you were sure someone was behind you. You may not see them clearly, but he was a man, and he looked handsome as fuck.

Even before the man could move, you immediately whipped your head towards him, with visible flushed cheeks, and half-lidded eyes. It wouldn’t take a genius to know just how drunk you are.

The man flinched in unexpectation, but what made him surprised more was the fact that he was a complete stranger; yet you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck.

The man immediately withdrew his claws that were a hundred times sharper than a newly sharpened knife, taken aback by the sudden affection.

It was safe to say that you had saved your own life in the most unexpected way, in the most unthinkable way.

The red wine that you just drank and puked had filled in his nose, the scent so tantalizing, yet, as a demon, more over, the demon king, he must not be lured by such a thing.

And yet, the simple press of your thigh against his ‘thing’ has awakened something within him.

You leaned in and whispered something against his ear, but it was inaudible in his side for he felt hot. Your breath was tickling his ear, your heat radiating off of you from how close you both are, and your thigh still pressed on his junior. God damn, he shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a demon for God’s sake.

And that’s how, the night when your life changed.

~~~~~

“Y/n! Pay attention will you!?” Yelled Sanemi, your training partner for today. “The hell you zoning out about!?”

You flinched in surprise as his loud voice had finally reached your ears.

For the past few days, you’ve been always like this. Even Rengoku got upset when he thought you were ignoring him.

For some reason, thoughts — more like memories, start to appear in your brain. Although, you’ve got no assurance if it really is that.

You doubt, but a memory comes in then. A memory that… consisted of heat, lust, temptation, and desire. But you have no recollection of what had happened in that memory.

Even Mitsuri needed to bonk your head so hard to keep those memories out of your head in the middle of a battle.

It was all so distracting, to say the least. Your missions, turned out to be a fail at the end of the day only because you could not pay attention to the demon.

Safe to say, you are getting demoted. That’s for sure.

“Tsk, there you go again! Zoning out!” Sanemi snapped one last time, before throwing his wooden stick to the ground and walked out.

Then, there goes your training session. A failure.

As you slowly, tiredly, packed your things and walked away from Sanemi’s estate, you can’t help but wonder as always; what really happened that night?

You swore you only had a few shots then… right. Then what? Obviously, you don’t remember any more further.

But you do remember seeing a man. A man who wore a white hat, red eyes, and a formal suit. You can’t remember how he looked like, but you remembered his scent, and his voice. And you too, were sure, that he was muscular enough to carry a thousand pound, or even more.

Sauntering towards your estate, your mind elsewhere, as you couldn’t even hear the ongoing chaos that started just about… now.

You heard screaming and explosions, you saw smoke as you looked back, everything falling down in just a second.

You dropped your bag, and ran toward the chaos’ direction, along with your weapon.

You ran as fast as you can, your mind was no longer filled with those heated memories. All you could ever think of now was, are they okay?

You rushed, and panted. You tried to use your breathing technique to get faster, but it was of no avail. You were too late.

Everything had turned into a disaster the moment you turned around, the moment you blinked your eyes, the moment you stopped thinking.

The next thing you knew, you were already sent into a room. No, wait, not a room. It looked like an… endless void.

You stepped foot on it, and explosions could be heard anywhere. It was terrifying, to say the least. But your legs strengthened and rushed forth towards a direction, in which a voice — a screaming voice of a woman could be heard.

And that woman was no other than… Mitsuri. She, was the very first friend you had ever since your arrival. She was an innocent, kind, and bright woman. She did not deserve to live in a world like this.

Better yet, exist in a situation that has got her hissing in pain, and gasping for breath.

Obanai Iguro was there too, fighting for his dear life and for Mitsuri’s.

You stand by Mitsuri’s aid, trying to help her get up.

“I’m… fine, please, help Iguro-san..” Mitsuri weakly pleaded, as her legs trembled when she tried to get herself up with the help of your arm.

You looked at Iguro from afar, and you could see, just how much he was willing to risk just to kill a demon.

You nodded and raced toward his aid, without knowing that it was no ordinary demon he was fighting. Not one of the twelve moons, but the king of them all.

You shivered and froze in spot, his dominating aura getting through to you as you looked up at the monster in fear, Iguro continuing to fight for his life.

You slowly walked towards the battle, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You charged towards the demon, whose hair was long and white, had a muscular form, and a scent so alluring.

Iguro was thrown back against the wall, leaving you and the demon alone.

Muzan looked at you in confusion, upon seeing a new face, but then, he remembers, that you were the woman he was always looking for ever since that night. God, you looked beautiful even when your hair up, but he obviously preferred the way you looked in bed, your hair down and splayed on the soft mattress.

He smirked upon seeing you, “nice to see you, again.” He said with his deep, tempting voice.

Oh god, fuck, now you remember. Those memories, it all became so clear. He was the fucking man you slept with, the man from that very same night too.

You stood in front of him from quite a distance, but instead of attacking you, he instead went near and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in as his lips touched yours.

You finally remembered the heat, the pleasure, and the desire.

Your comrades can only look from afar, can only look at your betrayal.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

Weeks before, Mitsuri gasped loudly, her gasp literally echoing through the silent forest, as you told her about your current predicament.

“R-Really!? Omg! You slept with someone!!” Mitsuri announced and gasped loudly again, causing you to place both your hands on her mouth.

“S-Shh! Everyone’s gonna hear you!” You whisper-yelled, as Mitsuri nodded apologetically. Her big mouth always getting the best of her, when it comes to something she always calls “love”.

You sigh in defeat, as you already expect that Mitsuri will probably accidentally slip some words out.

“W-Wait! How did he look like!? What was it like!? Did you feel good!?” Mitsuri’s enthusiasm boosted up again, excitedly asking you about your unforgettable experience.

“Well… it definitely felt like something I never felt like before.. he was um.. muscular.. handsome.. and most definitely big down there.” Mitsuri broke into a cackle, as she held her stomach and wiped the tears in her eyes.

“S-Seriously- haha- t-that was what you r-remember? You sure must’ve s-stared at it for a long time! Hahaha!” Mitsuri continued laughing, as embarrassment started to creep up your cheeks, turning your head away from her, “S-Shh!” as you tried to shut her up.

But it was true though, you can’t deny the fact that he was packing down there.

a/n: u guys imagine the rest

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3

Masterlist

Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.

Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.

This was still the same day, right?

Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.

For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.

Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.

So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.

But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.

A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.

The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?

Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.

Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.

There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.

He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.

And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?

Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?

He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.

And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.

He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."

Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"

Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.

Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.

Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."

The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.

"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."

"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."

"Then tell me who she is."

Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."

"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"

A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."

A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.

"Deal."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

[princessbiteme0o0]

Just Friends, Hmm?

SMUT, SMUT, SMUT

So in other worDS MINORS D.N.I. 🔪

(Thank you @littleskeletonprincessss for the pic :) )

This is pure filth…

💫Beware💫

Description: Welcome to, I’m bored and my mind likes to run wild (a dream that I had last night). Schlatt makes my heart do the buhbump type o’ flutter (his dumbass makes me melt) so I hope you enjoy this as much as my brain enjoyed the dream.

Warnings: AHEM. SMUT… very VERY detailed smut ;)) Slight (fem pronouns, some adjectives) descriptors used, kinda Daddy kink? It’s only used a few times sooooo- but it’s HEAVILY implied.

Other than that, I’m sick and easily irritable, so if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Otherwise, hope you enjoy. (I don’t think it needs trigger warnings ((just Jay being rough)), but if you disagree lmk). Love y’all ❤️

(Updated A/N): RAAAAHHHH I AM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG- I’ve had a very rough last few days.

—💕—💕—

Schlatt should’ve known better than to cave when Ted asked for him to bring her onto the podcast. She was a fellow streamer and they hadn’t decided whether their relationship was anything real or if it was just ‘for funsies’, as she put it.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he watched her image through discord as she answered questions here and there for Ted, while he just leaned back in his chair and his eye twitched.

“So, (Y/N)… Anyone special in your life?” Ted asks, a small smirk on his lips as his eyes flashed to Schlatt’s- Ted had his suspicions, but no substantial evidence to his assumptions.

“No, not really.” She hums softly, taking a sip from her energy drink- He could use that.

“Where’s the gamer supps, (Y/N)?” His tone was stern and it made her eyes do a little flutter- that Ted definitely didn’t miss.

“Did you check up your ass and to the left?” She is quick to quip back, despite her little tumble.

“No, but would you like me to check yours?” He has an eyebrow raised in subtle warning and Ted is all grins as a warm blush raises on her cheeks.

“In your dreams, pube-cheeks.” She hisses out, glaring through the camera.

“Wanna repeat that, sweetheart?”

“Am I missing something?” Ted interjects, but she quickly composed herself and she shook her head, while Schlatt recovered from his fuming at her comment.

“Not a thing, Teddy.” She hummed, batting her eyelashes at him. The subtle flirtatious gesture did nothing but stoke the fire set on Schlatt’s ass.

“Mmh, that right, Honey?” If she was at his house right now, he’d bend her over his desk, finger fuck her until she couldn’t see straight and make her beg for him to stop. A brief silence on her end and her eyes becoming hazy for a moment was a sign that she was slipping back into submission, just at the way he spoke.

“Th-that’s right.” She tried to confidently huff out, but her voice came out shaky as she stuttered on her words. The interaction went forgotten between Ted and Tucker, but Schlatt couldn’t help but smirk each time he noticed her looking at him and adjusting herself in her seat. Once the recording for the podcast was over, Schlatt gripped his phone firmly in his hand and dialed her number.

“Jay…” Her voice whined as she answered. He let out a soft ‘tsk’, clicking his tongue before replying.

“Now, now… Is that any way to answer the phone, Toots?” He teased, making a soft whimper sound through the speaker of his phone. Chuckling softly, he leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles softly.

“Then why don’t you come over here and show me just how sorry you are, Pumpkin?” He hums warmly, the grumble in his voice making her rub her thighs together and let out a shaky breath.

“Yes Sir…”

-

She doesn’t remember much of the drive to his house (obviously not, with so many distractions on her mind). Somehow, she became coherent enough to realize she was sitting in her car, staring at his house. Her heart raced in her chest, as it always did when he was involved. For the first time in a long, long time, someone made her feel special; made her want to dance in the rain, made her want to lay on a blanket and stare up at the stars. He made her want to do all of the stupid, cute shit you see in the cheesy romantic movies. He also made her melt, whether that be between her legs or her heart sat comfortably in her chest- she wanted to give him the world even though he already had it.

When she finally summoned the courage, she stepped out of her car and made her way towards his front door. Before she could even knock, the door is swung open and she’s pulled inside. The door is quickly slammed shut and she’s shoved against the wall, both hands pinned up by his right hand and his left hand resting comfortably around her throat. Her eyes closed and a smile spread across her lips at the feeling of his fingers pressed up against her soft skin.

“I don’t know what you’re smiling for, Toots.” He whispers in her ear, his mutton chops brushing against her cheek. “I never said I’d let you cum.”

“But, Jay…” She whines making him chuckle. Every sound she made and every expression that crossed her pretty little face made him fall more and more in love with her. He struggled to keep his composure for a moment, but then he lets out a soft tut.

“You made your bed, Honey… Now I’m gonna fuck you in mine.” He growls lowly, moving to quickly throw her over his shoulder. She lets out a soft squeal as he does this and she smacks his ass repeatedly as he walked towards his bedroom. She was giggling wildly as he trekked his way up the stairs and he felt his heart melt at the sound. He delivered a solid spank to her rear and she let out a soft sound somewhere between a yelp and a moan. Throwing her down on his bed, he crawled slowly and menacingly over her, his fingertips ghosting up the inside of her thighs.

“Not seeing anyone, hmm?” He asked, eyes glancing up at her as he leaned down to kiss her belly over her shirt.

“I- I’m-“ She stuttered out nervously, body trembling with every touch from him.

“What was that?” He played dumb, fingers moving further upwards and sneaking below her skirt.

“Jay I-“ She’s quickly cut off by a lewd whine when he presses his thumb firmly against her clit through her panties.

“Finish your sentence, Doll.” He hummed the demand as if it were the most simple thing to do in the world.

“P-please Jay…” She whines, hands reaching down to rush him, but the reply he growled made her retract her hands.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Yes Sir…” She mumbles and he slaps the inside of her thigh, making her repeat it more firmly to show that she understood. He pushed aside her panties and with a feather-lite touch, his fingers passed over her and he closed his eyes at the warmth while her juices already soaked his fingers. Her thighs subconsciously tried to close and as a result, he buried his teeth into her skin. She whined and thrashed beneath him as he sucked a warm, wet hickey on her inner thigh.

“You don’t seem to have such a problem with my pube-cheeks when they’re rubbing between your thighs.” He grumbled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her sensitive bud, making her mewl his name.

“Jay!” Her voice whined out, making a chuckle reverberate through his chest and the air rolled vibrations across her warm, pulsating center.

“Maybe I should call Teddy and let him hear who really makes you feel good.” He growled softly, biting the inside of her thigh.

“N-no!” She squeaked out, hands fisting into the sheets as he sucked a dark purple mark on her soft, pale skin.

“Why not? You thought it was so appropriate to flirt with him right in front of me. What? You tryin’ to make me jealous, Toots?” He hummed, eyes peering up at her. As soon as his eyes met hers from his place settled between her legs, she looked away in an attempt to hide her growing blush.

“No!” She snapped, but he could practically hear the deception in her tone.

“Surely you know better than to lie to me by now, Angel.” He spoke lowly, a growl settling in the back of his throat while he spoke. Her legs quaked and the blush on her face creeped down her neck as she slowly became more and more embarrassed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffed, a frown set across her lips. While she wasn’t looking, Schlatt used this opportunity to press his middle finger and his ring finger inside of her. Her facial expression twitched, but she tried to hold her guard.

“C’mon, Pumpkin… You can tell me.” He cooed, trying to coax the truth out of her by curling his fingers upwards, making her body jolt with a rush of pleasure that made her blood run hot and her heart rate jump.

“Jay… Please…” She begged softly, her legs twitching on either side of him as he continued to work his fingers.

“You make it hard to focus when you beg with such a pretty voice.” He hums, tongue flashing out to run across her pretty little flower while he worked his fingers.

“Nnhhg J-ay!” She mewled, her legs closing around his head.

“Mmh look at you, my pretty little angel… I bet Ted would just love to see your face.” The sound that came from the back of his throat when she tightened around him at the thought would’ve struck fear into the depths of her soul if it wasn’t for the amount of pure bliss coursing through her every cell. “Oh, so you like that idea, hmm? Like letting your dear, sweet Teddy know who you really belong to?” He hissed, biting down on her clit and ripping a scream from the back of her throat.

“Schlatt! Pl-please!” She had tears running down her cheeks by now as she thrashed under his hold. He was quick to wrap one of his arms under her thighs and yank her closer to him so his face is pressed so deeply into her that she couldn’t possibly escape.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled as he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue.

“You, Jay! I’m all- yours!” She hiccuped out, choking on her tears.

“Louder.” He grunted into her, the vibration of his words making her legs shake and clench around his head, squeezing his cheeks.

“I belong to you…” She whispered, barely able to breathe with the sheer pleasure making her body stutter and attempt to silence her, but Schlatt would have none of that so he sucked her throbbing bud into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it as he sucked. “Daddy!”

That one word made him stop for a moment. He lifted his head just enough to stare seemingly through her soul. “What was that, Toots?” His voice was just a touch above a whisper and he held back a smirk, just staring at her. Whimpering, she shook her head as her cheeks grew an inflamed shade of red.

“N-nothing Jay.” She mumbles out, unable to make eye contact with him. He gave her absolutely soaked pussy a light slap in correction.

“None of that…” He grumbled as she whined and mewled in embarrassed pleasure beneath him. “Say it again.”

“No…” She whispered softly, rapidly shaking her head in vibrant insecurity. Growling, Jay lowered his head between her legs again in an attempt to hear the word tumble from her lips again. When he slipped his fingers into her, angling them upwards and started sucking on her clit again, her hips bucked up and pretty whines fell from her lips once more. “Please, please, oh god, please Jay, please! Please, Daddy!” She cried out and Schlatt was absolutely delighted with the arch of her back and the sound of her voice.

“That’s it… Good girl, good fucking girl.” He hummed into her and in a second her hands were buried in his hair as she twitched over and over again.

“More- I need- Nnghh-“ She choked out, tugging on his hair. Schlatt pulled away for a moment and leaned his head on her thigh, looking up at her with a dopey grin.

“What is it, Pumpkin? Tell me what you need.” He cooed, placing gentle kisses along her thigh. His sudden turn to gentle behavior made her heart melt and her composure break.

“Need you, Daddy. Need it so bad.” She whines out softly, her voice broken and desperate.

“Aww, is that right? Baby doll needs her Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is that it?” He asked while gently massaging her hips with his hands and placing warm, wet kisses across her abdomen.

“Need your cum… Please, Jay… Please?” Her request made him grind his hips against the bed. A deep rooted groan leaves him and he completely abandoned her aching cunt. Her words, her voice, her desperation, sent him into a state of pure adrenaline driven lust. Sitting back on his heels, he shoved his joggers down, making his cock bob free. He gripped her hips and yanked her towards him, curling her legs up over his shoulders and laying his body against hers. Sliding his cock deep into her, a squeak of surprised pleasure leaves her and his body twitched, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You want me to make you a mommy? Hmm? Want me to fuck a baby into you so I can see you all round and gorgeous?” She couldn’t do anything but mewl for him with the position he placed her in. He was quick to piston his hips against hers, hand squeezing between them so that his thumb could brush over her clit in tight circles.

“Yes Daddy! Yes, yes!” She nearly screamed, back arching and body shaking. Schlatt used his free hand to gently wrap around her neck, applying pressure carefully to the sides. A dark chuckle leaves his lips when he watches her eyes roll back in her head.

“Hope you’re ready, Toots… I’m not stopping until you’re so full of my cum that there’s no way you’re not pregnant.” He hums, pulling his hand from her neck to slip two fingers into her mouth. He watched and his cock twitched as she looked up at him with those big, innocent blue eyes as she sucked on his fingers and attempted to muffle her moans around them.

“Then, when I’m done with your pussy, I’m going to plug you up and make you swallow my cock. How that sound, my little Angel?” She whines and her pussy tightens as she approaches the edge. He slowed his thrusts just enough to teeter her on the edge. “Tell me who you belong to.” He grunts out between slow thrusts.

“You, Jay, you… I’m all yours- I love you.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, his thrusts pick back up, along with the movement of his hand on her clit. His lips crashed to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth to assert his dominance, as if it wasn’t already clear enough.

“Fuck, Darlin’, I’m gonna cum.” He grumbles against her lips, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Please, please, please, please.” She chanted, nails digging into his shoulders, sure to leave marks for the next day. With a growl mixed somewhere with a groan, he shoves his cock as deep inside of her as it would go and releases. The feeling of his cum painting her walls caused a chain reaction- tears streaming down her cheeks, illegible sobbing words, her pussy clamping down so hard it nearly suffocated him and then finally, her pussy squirting and covering over his lower half, her lower half and even the sheets in her juices.

“Oh fuck, Pumpkin.” He mumbles as he tries to catch his breath. A smirk slowly inches its way across his lips and his eyes turned into a devious storm. “You made quite the mess, tsk… Let’s see if you can do it again.”

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | (05)

summary; azriel is away on a mission, and you get an unexpected visitor. when he returns, you also get an unexpected surprise.

word count; 5988

notes; fun fact!! I got confused about which part I was on because I actually forgot all about the events of this part and started writing for part six before realising!! also the way this is months late... my bad, y’all. 

Slumping a little further in the plush seat, your eyes scanned across the page before you for the fourth time. Finally, you’d settled on a book, after procrastinating it all morning. Then, you’d put it off with the excuse of cooking breakfast and eating, making a cup of tea… and then another. 

The house felt too big, too quiet, too light without shadows crawling in every corner. 

Azriel had been gone since yesterday morning, your first overnight alone without him as he did Cauldron knew what, Cauldron knows where, out in the world. He’d left early yesterday morning while you had still been asleep, waking you with a hand shaking your shoulder gently before the sun had even risen. Dressed in those same dark leathers, strapped head-to-toe with weapons, he’d mumbled about some sudden work from Rhys, and that explanation, along with a delicate kiss on your forehead, had been all you’d gotten. 

It had half felt like some kind of odd dream, until you’d woken up, and the house had been far too still without his presence. 

He was due back tonight, and you were holding onto that, attempting to focus back on your book. Three hours. Only forty pages in. 

You’d hardly made it two more pages, before there were footsteps on the creaky porch, your heart rate shooting through the roof, and a knock. A knock. Azriel wouldn't knock on his own front door. Matter of fact, Azriel would have likely just winnowed right to the door, not walked up the porch. 

On light steps, hoping whoever was on the other side couldn't hear you, you peeked up through the hole in the door, noting Elain standing on the other side. You barely knew her, recognising her only from the first dinner you’d shared with Azriel’s family, heart leaping into your throat at the sight of her. 

Clicking the door open after only a second or two of hesitation, she offered a beaming smile when your eyes met. 

“Hello, Elain.”

“You remember my name!” Her smile somehow only stretched wider, and it was like the sun itself seemed to get brighter as she did. You wanted to scoff. Did it just do that, or was Lucien out there somewhere, glowing every time she smiled? 

“Uh… Azriel isn’t here.”

“I know.” She waved a hand, as though that was supposed to be obvious in some way, following it up with a giggle. You wracked your brain, stumbling over every piece of information Azriel had given you on them all over the last couple of weeks. Seer. Elain was a seer. Had she seen Azriel leave and chosen this moment to approach you? “I’m here to see you.”

Apparently so. “Why?”

“I was thinking we could go for a walk in the public gardens together.”

“Why?” The word spilt out again, and she laughed, cocking her head to the side. “I’m, sorry, I don’t— I don’t mean to sound so rude. This situation is just unexpected, that’s all.”

“I know. I would have come sooner, but I was waiting for Azriel to be gone because he’s been playing defence about who gets to see you and when. He growled at Rhysand last week for asking how things were going.” Your stomach flipped at that, flopping in on itself and you rubbed a hand over your ribs slowly, hoping to steady the beating of your heart. “I’m not here for Rhysand, just to be clear. I’m not here for anyone, not even Az. I’m here for me, because I’d like to get to know you.”

“You want to get to know me?”

“Of course. You’re going to be around for a while—”

“I am?” She merely hummed, brows raising a little as humour shone in those doe-eyes, and your cheeks heated. “Seer, right. Of course. Do you want to come in for lunch or something, then?”

“I was thinking we could go for a picnic.” Nudging one delicately slippered foot out from under the hem of her dress, she nudged a picnic basket at her feet with her toes, and you shifted nervously from foot to foot. “It’s a nice day, and the Velaris Gardens are just beautiful. I volunteer sometimes, and I must say, the flowers this year are breathtaking.”

“Alright,” She was like a puppy, someone you just couldn't say no to when she stared at you with those big brown eyes, only seeming to light up more when you finally agreed. Leaving her standing on the porch for no more than a few minutes, you marked the page in your book, swapped out your loungewear for a summer dress and some sandals, and grabbed your keys. 

She had been right, the two of you were barely more than a few steps down the sidewalks before the golden rays of the sun truly began to soak into your skin, warming you. It was a lovely day. Hopefully, the sun was shining on Azriel too, wherever he was.

The streets of Velaris were crowded as the pair of you ventured closer to the busier parts of the city, your workplace was packed full, the tables outside almost overflowing, and one of the waitresses you’d come to know waved as you passed by, flustered and carrying a tray of drinks. 

Children were playing in the streets, darting from one side to another. Adults were wandering, lovers arm in arms, and friends gossiping. Here you were, wandering alongside Elain, who was humming a tune gently to herself under her breath. Only once you had entered the gardens, the kind old man at the front gate greeting Elain with a smile and a hug, did she speak up once again. 

Her tune came to an end as the two of you were walking down the main pathway, weeping willows curtaining on either side, birds chirping overhead and fluttering between branches in the trees. 

“I'm happy Azriel has you, you know.”

“You might be the only one.” Your words were bitter, harsh, and you wanted to bite them back in, still not entirely sure where you stood with Elain or to what extent you could trust her, but she only laughed again. “Apologies, that was…”

“Don’t worry.” That casual hand wave again, the metal bracelets on her wrist clinking as she did. One held a sun, another with a moon, a third gold band with an orange gem, and a fourth with a metal tag on a leather band, an engraving too small to make out. “Although, it’s not true. Nesta talks very fondly of you, and while Feyre might not speak up as often, she does not approve of the way Rhysand treats you.”

“Nesta is great. I shouldn’t have said that. And of course, I was out of turn to imply anything at all about the High Lord and Lady. I do—”

“Please, none of those formalities.” She stopped suddenly at the end of the pathway, aiming to turn neither left nor right, but instead stepping out onto the large field before you both, wildflowers cropping up, wandering across the soft ground and leaving you to trail through the grass behind her. “Rhysand can be a stubborn arse when he chooses to be, and Cassian is merely being bull-headed. Mor could be a swaying hand if she chose to, but she’s actively staying out of it, to let things play out on their own. Amren is… well, Amren.”

She had managed to coax a laugh from you, despite your wary mood, and she seemed to stand a little taller at the triumph. Finally finding a spot she liked and placing the basket down, Elain opened it up to pull out a blanket, flapping it out into the light breeze and laying it on the ground slowly. She sat on it, patting the space beside her for you to sit on, and opening the basket only when you had. 

“I brought several sandwiches, because I wasn’t sure which you’d enjoy.” She began to unstack each labelled and wrapped meal portion, laying them out around you both until the blanket was covered in food and treats, a wine glass in your hand as Elain filled it with bubbling grape juice. “I try not to drink as much these days.”

It seemed the two of you had moved on from whatever conversation you’d been having, and no matter how much you wanted to circle back around to it, it felt rude to do so when she was clearly leading the chat. She was rubbing a hand over her stomach with contemplation, and you swirled the bubbly drink in your glass. “Are you… are you trying for a baby?”

Her hair glinted in the sun as she tipped her head back, eyes closed and smiling at the sky. “We’re thinking about it. Nothing concrete yet, but, I know Lucien desires children. I do too. We aren’t putting any kind of timeframes on anything, but we’re getting into some good habits and lifestyle changes now.”

“I wish you both the best of luck,” 

She only hummed, again, a contemplative sound that seemed so wrapped up in mysterious and knowledge that it made your skin itch. To distract yourself, you took a sip of your drink, eyes scanning over the food options before you as she sighed and pulled herself back from whatever thoughts she had lost herself in. “My happiness with my mate now is so much due to Azriel.”

It was like a ball, bouncing back and forth between the walls, getting faster and faster as she whipped from the topic of Azriel to anything else, like she couldn't decide between acknowledging the elephant in the room or ignoring it. 

“I’m happy he has you.”

“So you’ve said.” You smirk, settling on a sandwich at last and unwrapping it. 

“There was a while when I thought I might be his happy ending, and he might be mine.” Your chewing slowed, and your focus fixed on her. You weren’t sure why she was saying these things, revealing things about his past or her own, whether it was some kind of game or not. She seemed to read all of this on your face, sitting up more fully to face you, legs crossing before her. “He never fought for me the same way he fights for you, though. Like he can’t help himself. What we had was hidden away and sneaking around in the dark. It was wrong for us both, I see that in hindsight, but with you, he doesn’t hide you. It’s like he wants the whole world to know you’re at his side.”

The food was like trying to swallow a mouthful of cottonwool, choking it down dry and wincing. “I don’t think what we have is the same. What you had must’ve been… well, like a real relationship. You do understand what me and Az have is more like an agreement, right?”

“Are all relationships not just agreements to be together, monogamously?”

You sipped at your drink, buying time to find a reply as she tucked into her own food, surely knowing she’d won this round. “Relationships are different.”

“In what way?”

“In every way!” You said, and she still only managed to look mildly amused, waiting for you to go on. “Relationships shouldn’t start the way ours did, for the intent of mutual benefit and gain. They’re supposed to be about passion and feelings and connection.”

“And do you not have passion, or feelings, for Azriel? Is there no connection?”

“What we have is complicated.” You didn’t know how to define it at all, everything that was shifting and changing so thoroughly was enough to make your head spin, and her mumble only confirmed that she knew she had the upper hand here. “How did Azriel help you to find Lucien if you were… together?”

“Oh, no, we were never together. We snuck around at night and shared heated looks across the dining room table. I wanted to choose my own path for once, not the one everyone was telling me I should be on. The one that led to Lucien. And Azriel, well, he just wanted someone. I wasn’t the right someone, I was just there.” That didn’t answer your question, not at all, but it seemed that if you were going to get the reply you wanted, it was in return for listening to the whole story. “We had stolen moments in dark corners, and Rhysand warned us off one another, put a stop to what likely would have ended in tragedy.”

“Seems like the High Lord is fond of telling Azriel who he can and cannot be with.”

“He had a sister once, you know.” The words struck cold, and you stiffened. Of course, you knew. Everyone in Prythian knew. Had heard of the tragedy before the first war, when the Lord of Night had lost his wife and daughter, leaving only the Prince who would soon take the throne. “She fell in love with someone who she shouldn’t have, someone who betrayed her in the end,”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“—and it broke him for so long. I had no idea about any of this until Feyre told me. He watched his sister get her heart broken before she lost her life, and watched his mate fall for Tamlin and get hurt. He watched Mor hide such an important part of herself and get hurt for centuries. He even watched Lucien pine for me while I was too blind to see him. He has watched love break and harm over the years, watched people abuse those feelings and use them for their own gain. He knows that need for touch more than anyone, and knows the price companionship can cost.”

“Elain,” The food was beginning to taste like ash, this was becoming more of a petition than a chat. “I understand that. I know he’s suffered too, I know he’s felt pain, and I’m sorry for that. But that doesn’t excuse him for his cruelty. It doesn’t excuse him for stopping Azriel from finding happiness. He cannot control everyone around him, no matter whether his intentions are good or not. Other people’s happiness is not his responsibility, and not his right. What, only mates are allowed to be together? Do you know how rare it is to find your mate? Azriel has waited five hundred years, he may never find his mate, but does that mean he should never be allowed to know happiness because Rhysand decrees it?”

She stared at you, lips pursed for a long moment, considering all that you had said. And then, instead of getting angry, or yelling, or defending them further, she smiled. She nodded her head and something passed over her face that you couldn't possibly decipher. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Azriel would have fought for me, if I had asked him to. I’m sure I could have put up a fuss about it, but when he was told to stop, he did. That rejection…”

“Led you to Lucien?”

“Gods, no. It made me so angry. Azriel just rolled over and showed his belly because Rhysand snarled. I was mad, beyond words!” Your laughter broke free, surprising you both, until you were laughing together amongst the flowers. “He would barely look at me, wouldn't talk to me at all if not for polite dinner conversation. I’d gone from someone he’d feel up in dark corners to acting like I had a disease!”

“That’s awful!”

“I know! So, I wanted out. I was so stifled. I managed to persuade Rhysand to send me to the Human Lands for a while, to track down some information. Except, of course, I couldn't go alone. I needed an escort, and who better than the Emissary to the Human Lands?”

“This was Lucien?”

“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes, slipping away into her memories, a smile forming on her face. “Gods, he drove me insane. He was there all the time when I’d just been pulled from the Cauldron, like a lost puppy. So full of adoration and love. I was expecting that, but that’s not the Lucien who showed up. The one who showed up was so… nonchalant. Like the bond between us didn’t exist, we were friends, more like mere partners on a task. I even made a drunken move on him one night in a gross tavern far from The Wall, and he turned me down! Put me to bed and left a glass of water on the nightstand for me. Acted like it never happened in the morning.”

“Oh, Gods…” Your snicker bought you a mock glare from the flowery female beside you.

“I was even angrier, then. It was like nobody wanted me! So, when I returned, I gave Azriel a piece of my mind. And he let me yell at him for twenty minutes. And then awkwardly held me while I cried for another twenty.”

“Does this story have a happy ending? Well, I guess I know it does,” You offered her stomach a pointed look, “But when do we get there?”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her own eyes now, “To keep it short, Azriel then offered to help me with Lucien. Managed to trick Lucien into going on our first date, a blind-date set-up, and wouldn't let him leave when he tried to. He then continued to help me sneak around with Lucien behind everybody’s backs, until we were ready to come out with it.”

“When was that?”

“Two weeks before we got married.” You fell to your back, laughter like light spilling from you at that, and she continued to share the details of everyone’s reactions through giggles of her own. “I’d seen all their responses, and I wanted to avoid them as long as possible! That was the last time I ignored my visions to try and put them off. What I see will happen, it's only a matter of time. I can’t avoid it.”

“That must suck for surprise parties and gifts.”

“Maybe, but it was pretty good to see you coming.” She smiled, laying herself down beside you and staring up at the sky overhead. “We will be good friends, you and I. I’ve seen that too.”

You were preparing dinner when you finally heard Azriel arrive. The scuff of his boots on the porch, the rustle of his wings as he entered the house, and then—

Then the slam of the front door. So loud and violent that the house shook a little, trembling the trinkets in the hall that sat on the side unit. You tensed, hearing his loud huff of frustration. Shadows whipped and whirled through the house, a few even making it as far as you were in the kitchen, and you followed them, peeping around the threshold before they were all snapped back in a hurry to their owner. 

You saw his retreating back, stomping up the stairs of the house, tense lines and rigid muscles, disappearing in a dark cloud from sight. Another slam made you jump, one of the upstairs doors closing with a bang. 

Silence filled the house once again, far heavier and more tense than it previously had been, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth. 

It didn't feel like you were welcome, like perhaps this was a moment you shouldn't intrude on. But, was this not part of the reason that Azriel had brought you here in the first place? To comfort him, and be his support?

Minutes ticked by as you contemplated the matter, before deciding that at least checking in on him couldn't hurt. If he wanted alone time, he’d say that, and you’d happily give it to him. The idea of leaving him alone in his suffering created a phantom pain in your chest, spurring you up the stairs and on a search for him. 

He wasn’t hard to find, darkness flicking around the doorway of the office, idle shadows striking like dark lightning bolts in the air as you opened the door, only to find Azriel hunched over his desk, wings tense behind his body. 

“Hi, Az. It’s good to have you home.”

He only murmured, a vague noise, not even lifting his head from his work as you stood in the doorway. You paced a little further inside, standing by his desk, hoping to catch a glance of those pretty caramel eyes, but he kept his head down. His pen never stopped moving across the paper, his shadows never stopped their stormy swirling. 

“I’m going to start making dinner soon, if you want to come down?” He didn’t reply, just a grunt, and you gave up, despite the worry filling you from head to toe. “Alright, well, you know where to find me.”

With that, you left, a pulse of power following you from the room within as soon as you clicked the door shut, back pressed to the wood on the other side. With a couple of deep breaths, you steadied yourself. It was only a matter of time before something came up, everything had been going too smoothly, too perfectly to last. Azriel was bound to snap under all that pressure at some point, and if this was that snap, you could handle it. 

Setting a chicken off to roast only took a couple of minutes, basted and seasoned and into the oven, enough of a distraction to pull your thoughts away from the warrior upstairs. It was as you were chopping vegetables that your mind wandered back, the mind-numbing task of slicing peppers and carrots made it easy for your thoughts to trail back to Azriel.

Still, he had not emerged. Not for food, or water, or even some space from that office. 

Setting the table didn’t help to distract you either, laying down plates and cutlery and glasses, choosing a bottle of wine and setting it out to air, even going so far as to set down some candles, searching for matches to light them. The house was all but vibrating with power not, steady thumps that occasionally jostled the cutlery on the table with powerful bursts. 

Whatever had happened today had Azriel so riled up that his power was all but leaking out, siphons doing little to control the feelings welling inside him now. You’d never known the true strength of his power. Of course, you’d heard of the High Lord’s brothers, the spymaster and the warlord, the three champions of a lethal death-match among young soldiers, who’d come out bonded stronger than ever, with power to match. 

Never, though, did you expect to feel the power like this. Feel his emotions ricocheting off of every wall, bouncing through the foundations of the house. Suddenly, it dawned on you just how mighty the ranks of the Night Court truly were, a chill settling into your bones at the thought.

One bad mod, one temper tantrum, and the building could simply crumble to dust. Street lamps would flicker, and animals would scatter. Too many thoughts, too much and all of it became overwhelming as the house continued to tremble to the steady pattern of a heartbeat. 

Blowing out the candles as the flames flickered precariously once again, you put them away, not daring to risk them tipping over and creating a far worse problem. You knew the scars on Azriel’s hands, he’d told you the story behind them on one of the many nights the two of you had lay in bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, seeking comfort. 

Or perhaps, it had been during stolen moments in the café, when Azriel would come to visit you, sitting and doing his work at one of the tables in the back. He’d take a break only when you’d bring him a fresh pot of tea and a pastry, sit across his lap and talk in hushed whispers during the quieter parts of your shifts before you had to get back to work. 

It could even have been one of your late-night walks, or early-morning strolls, while the streets of Velaris were quiet and mist-kissed. Your hands clasped together tightly, his wing shielding around you as you walked together, talking of everything and anything that came to mind. 

He’d told you quiet stories of his past, of his present, of his hopes for the future. All about little baby Nyx, Nesta and her journey to finding the Valkyries, what it had been like growing up in the camps, or all the best little villages and towns he’d visited on his worldly travels. 

Your heart had been doing crazy things, lately. Crazy, stupid things, like skipping a beat and speeding up and bursting with adoration for a man so new to your life. It did crazy things, like encourage you back up the stairs an hour later, to ignore the tremble in your hands or the wobble in your step, heart calling out to him. 

You’d tried to ignore the urge. To sit and read your book, until you’d read the same line over and over while not absorbing a single word, and giving up with a frustrated huff. You re-basted the chicken, and added the vegetables to cook, and even set off some potatoes to boil but all the while, as your body worked, your mind and heart lay with him. 

This time, you knocked as you entered, knuckles a soft rap on the door before you pushed it open. Magic thrummed through the air, calling you closer and pushing you away, and you found Azriel, still in the same uncomfortable position, working at his desk. His shoulders were locked and rigid, his head hung, hair messy from constant tangling, and you lifted a hand, brushing it slowly through his hair. 

“Azriel…”

He barely even acknowledged you, nothing more than a grunt tossed in your direction as you stood by his side, and a sigh broke free from you. His lips were turned down in a frown, dragging all of his pretty features into misery too, and you hated to see this side of him. Hooking your fingers under his chin, his writing came to a stop as you forced his head to turn, to look up at you. His eyes were dull, a spark of irritation and anger bursting through them as recognition and consciousness flashed back into his lifeless form. 

“Azriel.”

This time, a growl tore free, that frown becoming a snarl as he pulled back, gaze narrowing a little. “I’m fucking working. What do you want?”

You froze, staring at him, taking in the exhaustion under his eyes, the pain in his stance, the spinning thoughts you could practically see surrounding him, so much so it must be dizzying and painful. Dropping your hand back to your side, he only returned to work, not sparing you another thought as he chased to catch up with the ones already running him ragged in his head. 

Silently walking away, you left his door open, hurrying away from the scene and back to the kitchen. Taking the kettle in trembling hands and filling it up, you set that to boil too, a mug from the cupboard clacking as you set it down on the counter, throwing open the doors to the tea cupboard soon after. 

Your nervous fingers skimmed across the labels, searching the front of each one, and it was as you were holding two, undecided on which to choose— perhaps just brew them together?— that the air in the room shifted, and a pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you back into a solid chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, face tucking into the crook of your neck, where he left a kiss to your skin. His hold tightened, squeezing you against his body as he slumped down into you. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Az.” You ran a hand along his forearm, banded around your body, feeling it loosen just a fraction as you squeezed. “I’m just so worried about you, I wanted to make you some tea to help, but I couldn't decide which one.”

At that, a whine slipped free from him, nuzzling deeper into your neck, another kiss, and another. Putting down the teas on the counter, you wiggled a little, managing to get him to loosen up just enough to turn in his arms. His forehead came to rest on your own, noses brushing, a sad frown on his lips as his eyes remained closed. 

“Az…”

“No more work. If I’m stressed to the point of snapping at you, then it’s too much. I’m sorry. You were just trying to help, and clearly, I needed the help.”

Looping your arms around his neck, he sighed, a happier sound as you scratched at the nape of his neck soothingly. “Stop apologising, Azriel. I appreciate it, but it’s unnecessary. I’m not angry at you, just concerned.”

“I like that you worry about me.” He whispered, deep voice running like honey as he bent enough to pick you up behind the backs of your legs, spinning you to place you onto the kitchen counter, and step comfortably between your thighs. “But you don’t deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve better. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Az. I wouldn't be in this relationship if I was going to run. I can handle you, even when you’re not at your best.”

He only answered with a shaky laugh, hands smoothing up your thighs to sit on your hips, squeezing in a series of happy pulses. “We’re in a relationship?”

Elation was clear on his face, no denying it, at your choice of words, and you gave a little chuckle of your own, nodding against him as your noses came back to brushing together, heads resting on one another. Your conversation with Elain flickered through your mind once again, and you wondered if she had seen this, seen you give into her whims and silently admit she was right. If she’d seen this, you hope she picked up on your mental scowl, too. “Well, what would you call what we have?”

“I like ‘relationship’. I like it a lot, actually.”

Throwing your arms over his shoulders, they looped around his neck, and you pushed your face up a little closer to him. “We may not be conventional, Az, but I like what we have. I like our relationship. I think we’re perfect as we are.”

He didn’t need words to respond, not this time, not as his mouth sealed over your own in a gentle, tender kiss. The first kiss you’d ever shared, a timid one, his lips working slowly and cautiously over yours, giving you plenty of time to pull away. 

You didn’t want to, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and affection as he was showing you, pouring every feeling you had into it, to make sure he knew just how much you cared. Your heart was beating hard, fast, racing like a drum under your ribcage as you melted into his touch. One scarred hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing across your skin, in tandem with every stroke of his lips. 

You pulled back for breath, just to find yourself tangled back up in him, his tongue stroking across your lower lip, teasing the roof of your mouth as you opened up for him. A groan skittered across your tongue from him, a pant for breath, his hand slipping up under your shirt to sit on your bare waist as you tugged on the slight curls of his hair. 

When he pulled back, at last, your lips were swollen, your lungs burning in the best way possible, and your head was spinning so much you could barely focus. The world felt fuzzy at your touch, glowing and glittering as you stole a final kiss from his lips, his soft chuckle breaking it. 

“Am I still invited for dinner with you?”

“Yes. I’m making chicken and potatoes.” Your smile lasted only a second, before you were sitting upright. Time had melted away around you, disappearing into dusk outside beyond the windows, “Oh, no, the potatoes!”

Pushing him back and hopping down from the counter, he watched with a dazed, kiss-drunk expression as you rushed to the stove, taking off the pan lid and prodding at the potatoes with a fork. 

“I amend my earlier statement. We’re having chicken and mashed potatoes, because these have gone soft. Entirely your fault for distracting me.”

“I distracted you?” He mused, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, tugging you back to kiss at your cheeks, trailing down toward your mouth. 

“You know you did.” His only response was a smile. Draining the potatoes was a challenge, what with Azriel plastered to your back like a new limb that served no purpose, and you had to elbow him off in order to finish the food. 

While he waited, he tinkered with the dining room table, pouring two glasses of wine and rearranging. When you turned, he’d dug out the candles you’d put away, lighting them with a match once again, and blushing as he laid them out. “I thought they’d be romantic.”

“I like them.” Your cheeks were equally as heated, smiling to yourself as you turned away to check the food. 

His distance didn’t last long, as you searched for a knife with which to carve the chicken, he was once again backing you into a counter, his mouth hungrily descending upon your own. Mutters of ‘waiting long enough’ silenced on your mouth as he dove into you, hands on your body once again, trying to tempt you up onto the counter. 

“Let me cook, you menace,”

“Just a few more,” Was his barter, and those few kisses passed more and more time, his lips like a high you had to chase, until only the desperate urge to breathe could pull you apart. “Gods, I love that. I love kissing you.”

“I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smirk stayed, unashamed of his newfound addiction. 

“We need to eat, you need food.”

“I have everything I need, right here.” He leaned in again, lips puckered, and you tipped your head his mouth finding the edge of your jaw, and he grunted unhappily at the action, but mouthed at your skin nonetheless.

“How about after dinner, we can go upstairs and do some self-care. I’ll show you all the fancy new creams and skincare I got. We can relax, and cuddle, and read.”

“And there will be more kisses?”

“There will most definitely be more kisses.” You promised, cupping his face and bringing him back for a final peck. 

“Then I think I can agree to those terms.” He stared, pulling back just enough to fully take you in. As the urgency in his expression died down with the promise that this affection was not a one-time deal, his face took on blissfulness instead. Running his knuckles across your cheek, his face softened even further as you leaned into his touch, cupping his hand and pressing kisses to his scarred fingers. “You… You are my moon, do you know that? You light up even the darkest parts of life for me.”

His words were like whispered oaths, something too heavy for you to fully comprehend but burned into your mind regardless, and you gave him a sweet smile back. “You are my stars, Azriel.”

“Really?”

“Every last one. Glittering and perfect in the night, full of mystery and hopes and stories. You are my favourite part of the night sky.”

Your heads rested together, dinner temporarily forgotten just for another moment or so, to bask in the revelations of the evening. 

Today, 

today changed everything for the better.