#uses of oh yes capsules

[martiansodas-blog]

Art x reader meeting the readers parents and it's an absolute mess:(

(bonus points if he finds her old room and plays with her calico critters and plushies)

ok my brain automatically went to older! art soooo…

your parents knew 2 things about your new boyfriend.

1- he’s successful.

and 2- he’s a couple years older than you.

a couple years is an understatement.

but you figured once they met him and saw how sweet he treated you it wouldn’t matter!

this did not turn out to be the case.

your mom and dad took one look at him and made a snap judgment.

they knew his type, (supposedly.)

old money. a younger girl on his arm. cold and aloof. power hungry.

it’s a shame. this couldn’t be farther from the truth.

art donaldson may be a weapon on the court, but behind closed doors he’s the little spoon who makes you heart shaped pancakes.

“so. where did the two of you meet?” your mother asks, more to be pleasant and less because she wants to know the answer.

“at work,” you said , fondly remembering the exchange, “he was-“

“heckling my daughter in the workplace?”

“mom.” you warn “no.”

“honey,” your dad reigns her in

she huffs and crosses her arms in defeat.

“i was needing some more tennis equipment, actually.” art chimes in,

“yeah he was looking for these fancy sweatbands but we didn’t carry any, we just sort of got to talking.”

your dad gave you both a soft smile

“well, you seem to make our little girl very happy.”

incoming call from: tashi

“speaking of little girl, that’s probably her saying goodnight. excuse me.”

art very politely stepped out onto the porch.

“he has a kid?” your mothers eyes looked like they could pop out of her head at any second. “honestly why on earth would you think this is a good idea?”

“yes he does and she’s very sweet. her names lily.” you said firmly.

“so what? you’re gonna be a stepmom in your early twenties? is that what you want?”

“i wanted to introduce the person i love to my parents. but obviously that was a bad idea.”

your dad ushers your mom into their bedroom. he gives you a apologetic glance before he closes the door.

you stood there, frozen in the entryway for an unknown amount of time. as long as it took for art to finish his call and rest his hands on your shoulders from behind.

“hey hey, what’s the matter? what happened?”

you didn’t realize you were crying until you started to speak. well, tried to speak anyway.

“they,” you sniffed, “she…i’m sorry,”

“oh honey,” he pulled you into a hug.

you buried your face in his toned chest.

“i should’ve known this would happen” you heaved, gripping his shirt.

“shh, shh it’s ok. this is most definitely not your fault.”

he stroked your back and pressed feather light kisses to your hairline until you calmed down. when you removed yourself there was a wet patch right in the middle of his torso.

“let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he suggested gently.

he was almost using his dad voice.

you nodded, grabbed his coarse hand and guided him up the steps.

“so this is your childhood bedroom?”

art took in the whimsy filled room. the ceiling was only about a foot taller than him.

“the one and only.” you managed to crack a smile.

it was just how you’d left it at 18. the walls were pink and green. a choice you’d made at 7 and never got around to changing.

you’re glad you never painted over it now, though. it makes you feel innocent again, like a time capsule you can walk into.

art strolled around the room. looking at drama club trophies that lined the bookshelf, the collection of calico critters and the photo booth films stuck on your mirror.

there was a good amount of dust on everything. it caused a pit in your stomach to open up.

“you ok?”

“yeah” you nodded, “just got a little carried away by nostalgia.”

art wasn’t sure if touch would be the right thing for you right now, so he opened his arms, giving you the option.

you hugged him without a second thought. like an instinct. you squeezed him with all your might, like a stress ball. art hardly felt it, though.

figures.

“meeting my family will go better. my grandmas already looking forward to it.”

you lifted your head to look at him.

“really?”

such a simple sentence gave you butterflies.

“yeah,” he chuckled, like it was obvious “i’ve told her all about you.”

you truly didn’t know what to say. so touched by the sincerity and excitement in his tone. it. it caused you to break into a smile, a real smile, for the first time since you’d got to your parents house.

“i’d like that very much.”

[after-witch]

You Never Come Back, Not All the Way [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: You Never Come Back, Not All the Way [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You haven't thrown up in months, but all you want to do is eat. Part of the It's My Party series.

Word count: 2500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, graphic eating disorder behavior including internal thoughts & actions

Outside, the world is moving and shaking, or so you hear. Villain attacks, media censorship, frightened people that don’t want to stay out late at night.

All of this is told to you by Tomura, who murmurs these things at an almost lullaby pace at night. Like it should lull you to sleep to know that he is (or he thinks he is) closer to his goal than ever before.

Inside, none of that matters. Attacks, heroes, villains, none of it makes a dent. All you can think about--all you know for certain in this capsule of a room you’re kept in is--

You want food.

No, not just food. You want something rich and hearty. Something you can dip into chili or stew, something that will pair well with watching a cooking challenge show or a scene from a restaurant in a movie. 

Bread would be nice. Nice bread would be even nicer. 

Not stale sandwich bread found in dumpsters or last-chance cheap brand pre-sliced white bread that was priced down to practically nothing (and it was stolen before it made its way to your plate, anyway).

But real bread, the kind you buy in loaves, the kind you can rip into hunks before spreading rich butter on it. The kind you stick on top of a bowl of stew so that it gets soft and the butter melts into the bread a little bit. 

The kind you dip into a stew, sopping up all the delicious rich beef and hearty vegetables before taking a big, chewy bite. 

Oh, fuck. Just one loaf of that kind of bread, please. 

It would be bliss.

If you asked, Tomura might try to get it for you. “Try” being the key word. You’d probably get a dented can of beef stew and one of those pre-sliced loaves of “French bread” that was always too soft and tasteless to really be satisfying. 

That’s what your life is, at the moment. Always having to settle for not-quite-the-same; settle for things that aren’t what you wanted but you’ll take them because it’s as close as you’ll get.

It’s not fair. None of it is. 

For another more pertinent example, you would also really love to throw up right now. 

Yes, yes, you’re supposed to be recovering. You’re not supposed to want to do that anymore. Tomura sits on you and distracts you and tells you that he likes you, so you don’t need to worry about things like weight. (He doesn’t get, no matter how much you try to tell him, that it’s not about how you look. Not really. It’s about what’s inside, literally, and you want to rip it all out.)

You think it’s the hunger that makes you want to throw up. Ironically enough. You’re not starving, exactly, but Tomura doesn’t exactly have an abundance of food. It’s not just you that needs to get fed, but the rest of the “League,” too. 

So those little hunger pangs that used to make you crow when you achieved them on purpose are now, instead, frustrating you. Making you sad. Making you feel weak.

Making you want to eat.

Right now--

You’d love to stuff your face with as much food as possible (the thought of ordering multiple pizzas comes to mind, or making a vat of something rich, spaghetti or a stew, and devouring it one night) and puke it out into the toilet. 

You’d love to feel the rush of adrenaline when you’re mid-session, the lightness that comes from emptying the contents of your stomach and watching it flush away. That feeling of power (however fake, and you know it’s so fucking fake, you’re not in control and never have been) that flushes your chest while vomit swirls down the toilet. 

But you can’t, for various reasons.

One, the toilet here is very unreliable. It clogs sometimes with just a little pee and paper, never mind what it might do with thick clumps of carb-heavy vomit. You’ve had to convince Tomura regarding the concept of a “courtesy flush,” something you never want to relive again on pain of death. 

Two, you don’t have enough food to actually binge and purge. There’s no abundance of food like there used to be, before he kidnapped you. So the act would just leave you empty, empty, empty--with nothing to fill it with later. Whether you keep it down the second time or not.

You just have to settle for not-quite-the-same. Which, at the moment, means chewing a muffin topped with possibly just-about-to-turn butter as slowly as possible. Savoring it. Imagining that you’re back home and you have an entire tray to eat.

In reality, you have just three, and they’re supposed to last you all day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Combined with pre-cooked egg cups that taste smelly when you microwave them, and a few scattered bags of chips. But chips and eggs aren’t great for this not-quite-the-same activity. The texture isn’t the same… chips get stuck in your teeth, and there’s nothing satisfying about chewing an egg.

So a muffin it is.

You chew slowly, licking at your teeth with every bite so that the muffin doesn’t stick as much to your molars. The slowness, the solitude, gives you too much time to think.

 How long has it been since you threw up, anyway? Tomura (a small part of your brain says: you’re calling him Tomura? This nasty villain who has kidnapped you and wants to destroy life as you know it--you’re calling him Tomura?!”) went from positioning himself in front of the bathroom door to laying on you to keeping a watchful eye whenever you eat a decent meal. 

But even his watchful eye had more or less vanished, since you’ve been eating and… doing nothing after. 

And now, he trusts you to be alone. Even with food. Even with meals. Like he doesn’t even consider the idea that you’ll do it, because you haven’t, and you haven’t really wanted to, not in the same way, not-quite-and-all-that.

He trusts that you’re getting better. And some part of you is, but not in a way that leaves you feeling good. It’s a way that leaves you feeling--what? Pathetic? Like you’ve lost? Like you gave away something about yourself that made you better (it didn’t--it doesn’t) and now you’re just some good little moron who eats and keeps it inside. 

And it makes you feel empty. Not in the way you like. 

You just feel so hollow, whether he’s here, whether he’s not. Whether he watches you after you eat or doesn’t bother to look or leaves you alone, trusting that you’ll be fine. 

You’re alone right now, in fact, aren’t you? Until late tonight, if he comes back when he says he will.

The thought hits you too hard, and your hand pauses, half-eaten muffin trembling in mid-air.

He’s not here. He won’t be back for a long time. You could eat this muffin. You could wash it down with sink water, then eat the rest of the muffins, and all of the microwave egg meals, and every bag of half-eaten chips in this messy room, and then lean over the toilet and--

Before you know it, the heavy temptation has you sitting in front of the toilet, knees pressed hard against the tile. The half-eaten muffin is still in your hand, and you hold it up, tasting the clumpy crumbles stuck to the bottom of your front teeth.

The familiar scent of the bathroom, the feel of the hard tile pressing against your knees, almost makes puke come up on instinct. 

But, fuck, it’s been so long since you did it. You’ve been so good.

What if…

What if you just don’t puke? That would be okay. It would be safer. You wouldn’t get dizzy, and he wouldn’t be able to smell the vomit, there’d be no chance he’ll find the splashback under the rim and get pissed off afterwards.

Because you’d just be chewing and spitting it out, right? No biggie. 

So--you chew. Chew and chew until the crumbs are all wet and stuck together. Then you lean forward, open your mouth, and push it out with your tongue; the clumpy mess slides into the toilet with a splash. 

It’s a comforting, familiar feeling. The scent of toilet water, your knees pressed against the floor, the splash of technically undigested food hitting the water.

You take another bite. And do it again. And again. 

You don’t even hear the door to his room unlocking--the thunk of the lock covered, perhaps, by the splash of another lump into the toilet. You don’t hear him call your name. You don’t hear him walk, slow then faster, to the bathroom--

You don’t see his expression when he first stands in the doorway, seeing you kneeling before the toilet, mostly-gone muffin in hand, small mounds of food resting in the toilet bowl.

You only see his expression once he’s got four fingers wrapped around your upper arm--his pinky flies out at the last moment--and he yanks you up so hard you drop the muffin to the ground. He doesn’t waste time tugging you out of the bathroom, your socked feet slipping on the floor, and he doesn’t let go until he’s got you flung onto the mattress.

There are a few moments where the world feels topsy turvy, all buzzing and strange, before Tomura begins to pick at his neck and spits out the words, tinged with months of worn-out patience--

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It makes your guts feel weak; it drains every ounce of high you got from spitting down to your toes, where it fizzles to nothing. Really, truly--

You wish he would have just slapped you, instead.

Tears sting your eyes and you sit up straighter on the mattress, pretending something like dignity.

“What’s wrong with you?” His eyes widen and his fingers still at your tone. Not angry, like he might have expected. But worse than that: low and guttural and hurt. “You kidnapped me! You don’t let me--you don’t let me do what I want, I can’t talk to anyone, I can’t even…” And the words go unsaid. You can’t even puke up your own damn food. 

Whatever words might have come next are lost when you simply begin to cry. Low, stupid, whimpering cries, the kind that choke up anything else you’d like to say.  A nasty, ugly cry that you know makes you look awful. 

And just like that, his own attitude clicks and shifts, and he’s kneeling on the mattress at your side. Rough knuckles rub against your tears and he mumbles apologies that all blur into one big “Hey-shit-I’m-sorry-I-was-too-rough-you’re-okay-fuck-hey-calm-down.”

It’s not until he pulls you close to his chest, forcing your cheek against it, that you can begin to calm down. It’s a ritual. Something done before, earlier on in your kidnapping. Not for a while, not until now, when all your awful thoughts come rushing back like a wave on an abandoned beach.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you,” he says, quietly, when you’ve stopped crying enough to let him be heard. “If you’re here, no one can hurt you. So that’s why…” He doesn’t finish, and he doesn’t need to; he’s told you all this before. 

If he hadn’t caught you throwing up, maybe he wouldn’t have kidnapped you at all. Or maybe he would have but a month down the line, or two months, a year. You could’ve enjoyed freedom just a bit longer.

Doesn’t matter, because he did catch you, and you are kidnapped, and you’re here now, on his mattress, getting comfort from his touch and words. 

Sniffles are childish as hell, you think, even as you sniffle and rub your nose.

“I didn’t throw up,” you mumble. Against you, he stills. You move your head back to look up at him and he looks at you like he’s about to say “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Before you can actually say it, you lick some food from the back of your teeth and move back a little more, intent on the truth.

“I was just chewing it. And spitting it out.” Somehow you keep eye contact with him--maybe because it feels right to explain it. To try to make him understand that it’s not like you were throwing up. He should be happy, even, that you were doing something like this instead. “It’s not a big deal,” you throw out, almost lightly, a half-laugh catching the edge of the last word. 

Tomura looks at you like it is, in fact, a big deal.

Which means you won’t be able to do it and I mean, fuck, you didn’t really think he’d be okay with it--you’re not that stupid. Not that naive. Just desperate, you think. Desperate for something to make you feel better when your mood takes this inevitable turn down food-control-food-control-food-control road.

All of it makes you want to cry again. It makes those stupid tears come back to the corners of your eyes, making your eyes feel all bulging and warm. It makes your mouth quiver, as you begin your pathetic complaint. 

“It’s not fair. I can’t do anything--I should be able to do this.” You gesture towards the bathroom, towards the mess you’ve left in there. Towards your chewed-up food in the toilet bowl. “I can’t live where I want or eat what I want or go to a movie or talk to my friends or--or--” There is an endless list of things you can no longer do, but Tomura doesn’t let you list them. Instead he gets off the bed.

It makes you stop crying, at least. If only out of surprise.

“That’s enough,” is what he says, voice strained, tired. The edge of patience is a thin one, apparently. You watch from the mattress as he walks into the bathroom; hear the toilet flushing, the sink running.

He comes back into the bedroom with a damp towel. There’s no gentleness as he, without an ounce of warning, straddles you against the mattress and wipes up your mouth.

“Tomu--” you begin, spluttering between wipes. “What--I don’t--you can’t--” 

But he ignores you until your face is cleaned, until it feels refreshed if not scrubbed a bit raw. He drops the wash cloth on the floor--you cringe, thinking about how you’ll have to pick it up later--and keeps you pinned against the bed.

His hair falls towards you, framing his face, ghosting against your scrubbed skin. He’s tired. You’re tired. It shows in the way he speaks now, in the way you give in without another struggle.  

“You gonna do it again?” 

You bite your cheek, tasting a bit of leftover muffin glob, and shake your head. 

--

“What game do you want to play?”

You blink at Tomura and don’t have an actual answer. He doesn’t usually let you pick the games. Especially when it’s a two-player game, and he’s usually picking the ones that make him look the best. Or so you assume; he’d denied it, when you felt lighthearted enough to make the jab once before.

“Why?” He frowns, and you press. “I mean. You usually pick.” 

He shrugs. “Just decided you can pick it tonight. Tomorrow, too. If you want.” 

Oh. It all slides together, like a children’s puzzle. 

You don’t have a lot of choices in your life, anymore. You don’t pick where you live or who touches you or who you talk to or what you can eat. But tonight--tonight you get to pick what game you’ll spend the next few hours playing, before you tell Tomura it’s late and you want to go to bed. 

Your choice.  For a few hours.

He’s throwing you a lifeline, or he imagines he is. 

It’s not much. 

But you have to take it for what it’s worth--which is, in the grand scheme of your little world, is a lot. 

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

another chase davenport fic???

A/N: Of course! I would love to make another one for you guys. I’m happy that you liked the first one!

Here’s another Chase fan fiction for ya! It’s a little on the short end, but I hope it’s still good!

Might be typos!!

Pairing: Chase Davenport x Reader

——————🧬——————

“Hey, guys.” I smiled, as I unbuckled my seat and walked out of the hydro-loop.

They all greeted me, as I walked in. “What are you doing here?” Leo asked as they all three of them walked over to me.

I shrug, “Just wanted to drop by, surprise everyone.”

“Well, color me surprised.” Bree said and we exchanged a hug.

“Well, you can color me blue. I think it really goes with my complexion.” Adam said, looking into an imaginary mirror. I shook my head and hugged both him and Leo.

“Where’s Chase?”

“Not sure, said he had something big to show us.”

“Well, I know it’s not his height.” Adam said, walking over to us after grabbing a water from the bar table.

“Guys, I’m ready to show you what I’ve been working on.” Chase stated, and I revealed myself from behind in Adam, Bree and Leo.

“Got room for one more?”

“(Y/N).” He smiled wide and hugged me tight. “What are you doing here? Thought you be on the main land, for a couple more days.”

“Well, I couldn’t wait, and had my trip cut short. So, what was that thing you were showing them?”

“Oh, I.. uh..” He said stumbling over his words, “It’s in the our sleeping quarters, but I need to put the finishing touches on everything.”

“I thought it was done already?”

“It is, just want to make sure it perfect.” He said and ran into the training room.

“Was that weird to you guys?”

“Not from how he acts normally, I’d say that was pretty normal.” Leo responded and the rest nodded their heads in agreement.

—————

We all sat down in the cafeteria area, and ate a light snack. “Hey, don’t you guys think he should be done with the finishing touches, on what he is working on?”

“Yeah, it’d had been a long time.”

“That’s how Chase always is, give him around 2-3 business days.”

“I don’t have time to wait.”

“Hey, wait, wait. Maybe give him a couple more minutes. You know how he needs to work alone.” Bree said holding me back.

“Well, I can help him out. He seems to like when I do that.” I brushed past Bree and Leon quickly ran up to stand in front of me.

“Bree, come on! I need to check on him.”

“Bree is right, (Y/N). He told us himself that he needs peace and quiet.”

“Well, I can still check in and see if he needs anything.”

I walk past them again, this time Adam stands in my ways. “Adam, don’t even try it. Try me, and you won’t get anymore food from the main land.”

I replied and Adam stepped back and they look at him, like he was crazy. “I’m sorry guys, she drives a hard bargain.”

I finally make my way to the room where they all had their sleeping capsules. “Chase, do you need help— Woah..”

I come into the room and looked around. It had been decked out with streamers and confetti littering the floor. Along with everything else you’d see at a party.

It was just so amazing and incredible.

“Guys! You weren’t supposed to let her see yet.”

“Sorry, but she threatened me with food. And you know how important it is to me.” Adam replied and went to sit on the couch.

“Chase, what’s all this for?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but it’s for you. All of it is.”

“Even the cake?” I said pointed over to the cake that Adam and Leo were devouring.

“Yes, even the— Adam! Leo!”

“Hey, we deserve a reward after helping you out today.” Leo said, and they continued to eat the cake.

I shake my head with a laugh and noticed that Chase looked sorta down. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I wanted this to be surprise. And it’s all coming apart.”

“No, it’s not.” I said, and as I say that the streamers that were tapped to the sleeping capsules started to lose its stick and the ‘happy birthday’ banner had fell to the floor.

“See?”

“Chase. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter, how many streamers fall or if my cake is half eaten.” I started as I took his face in my hands and looked him in the eyes. “It’s the thought that counts and this was very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.”

I reassured him and he began to smile a little and it made me smile seeing him do it. I let my hands drop and he took my head in his hands and placed a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Let’s enjoy it while we can shall we?” He held his arm out, and I looped my arm around his.

“We shall.”

[the-kr8tor]

Reporting for duty Captain!

A tasm Peter Parker request for a shy reader who likes Peter but backs out when she wants to talk to him or- OR, (more like and) a reader with w rizz who's known Peter since forever and ever. Who has the same interest in photography as he does?? Works in a photo store??

Cook chef!

*gasp* a peter parker request?! Got you, my love 🫡 happy to oblige.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x fem! Reader/ TASM! Spider-Man x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, Love struck Peter, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Peter doesn't need to ask around campus for you, he already knows where you are, a perk of knowing you since grade school. He evens his breathing when he finally reaches the worn out doors.

The bells jingle as he enters the old store, yellowed wallpaper greeting him and drab shelves lined with rolls of films, the vintage cameras make up for the boringness of the gray shelves. Ancient posters of movies lined the walls, a time capsule of the early eighties. It's silent inside, no other customer than him.

His sneakers squeak on the linoleum as he walks towards the cashier, expecting to see your smile, your hands occupied with whatever book you're currently (hating) reading. He finds it empty.

Peter's spidey senses don't tingle so he can relax knowing that you're in the back of the store. He jumps over the counter effortlessly thanks to his abilities. Knocking on the door, he hears the muffled sound of your speaker.

“Y/N?”

“In here, Pete—! Wait!!” With a creak, Peter opens the door without skipping a beat. The light from the store filters through the dark room, white covering and filtering out all the red. “No! Close it quick!”

“Oh shit!” He shuts it quickly behind him, too fast and harder than he thought, the wood almost cracks at the sheer force. Wincing, you both mirror each other's expression.

“Pete…” you sigh, closing the distance to check the door, you can't afford to lose a chunk of your paycheck for repairs. But you don't blame him, it's hard to stay mad at Peter especially when he's looking so apologetic at you, almost like a kicked puppy. “You got too excited to see me huh?”

He shuts his eyes with a smile, head falling down, chin atop his chest. He looks exasperated but he did it to hide the blush on his cheeks, hoping that if you manage to glimpse it you'd think it's from the red light.

This won't do, you thought. You missed him too much today just for him to hide his face from you. To remedy the feeling, you grasp his cheek, thumb gently placed right under his eye.

“There you are webhead,” your voice is saccharine, the ruby light bouncing off your face, illuminating your features perfectly. Peter thought he'd melt right on the spot. “Missed me?” In truth, you're the one who misses him most.

He wants to say yes without a second thought but knowing you, you're already aware of his answer. Even though you refuse to acknowledge it. Under all the teasing exterior there's shyness underneath it all, with just one flirty comment thrown your way you'd probably collapse.

Peter finally meets your smiling eyes and for a moment you're the only thing that matters.

With classes and spiderman responsibilities, hanging out with you has been scarce, he needed a fix right away, that's why he came sprinting towards the store immediately after a three hour class and after swinging across town to your favorite deli with his wind swept hair and shirt that definitely needs ironing.

“Not really.” A lie, an awful lie on his part.

“Aww,” you dramatically clutch at your chest, hand leaving his skin to his dismay. “Hear that? You just broke my heart, Parker.”

“D’you even have one?”

“Hey!” You playfully punch his shoulder. “You're the one who ruined my pictures.”

His eyes flick towards the clothesline filled with pictures that just screams ‘you.’ “I can see from here that they're not ruined.”

You click your tongue, hands on your hips, you walk back towards the table. “What are you doing here then, webhead?” Lowering the volume of your speaker, you decide to shut it off when his voice is a much better alternative.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.” Peter stands beside you, hip to hip, arm brushing along yours.

Placing his hand on the small of your back casually, he loops his thumb around your belt loop, pressing softly on your skin. He's done this a hundred times during your friendship but it never fails to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

“I've called you that numerous times.” Holding the tongs, you carefully place the developed photo in the chemical mixture in the basin, eyes watching the picture pop up slowly.

“Stop being mean, I've come bearing gifts from the deli you like.” His voice is quiet, soft just for you.

“The one that's on the upper west side? Peter, that's really far away.”

“I don't mind, that's what web swinging is for right?”

You scrunch up your nose, Peter has the best seat in the house while he admires your expression.

“And here I thought it was for fighting crime.” You chuckle, pushing the paper further down in the basin. His deep chuckle stops abruptly at the sight in front of him.

Peter's own smiling face greets him and your charisma cracks.

“Oh” you manage to let out with your dry mouth.

You can hear him shudder a breath next to you. The picture is framed perfectly, his face centered in the middle amongst the crowd, zoomed in more like. You clearly avoided having other people in the frame, your main subject was him and him alone.

“...Good picture.” He slaps himself mentally.

“Yep, one of my best, I think.” You say quietly, too quietly. Clearing your throat, you avoid his eyes, “why don't you ready the food? Outside, please?”

Peter shakes himself awake. His skin feels like lava, there's a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Hands clammy, he nods wordlessly. He awkwardly pats your back before leaving your side.

Walking towards the exit, your back turned towards him, shoulders slouched and tensed. He turns towards you before exiting, “looks like you missed me more, sweetheart.” He's called you that millions of times, all filled with more affection than the last but this one, oh this one he added with so much love that it could stop your heart.

And you think it has.

Peter hears you squeak, a sound he hasn't heard you make since high school when he asked you to dance during the winter formal.

You whirl around, catching sight of his Parker smile, charm oozing out of him that's already gone before you could admire him in the crimson light.

He leaves, shutting the door quickly. Laying his sweaty forehead on the door, he tightly closes his eyes again, feeling like a lightning just struck him and adrenaline coursing through his veins, needing to swing off the extra energy.

Blowing hot air, he takes his clammy hands off the doorknob to take out the food he bought, grinning through it like a mad man.

Meanwhile, you clutch the table with a grip, heart threatening to jump out of your chest, heat in your cheeks as the photo of Peter smiles at you.

Laughing to yourself, you take out his picture to clip it on the clothesline next to the other pictures. You have no idea what to say to him once you leave the room, or do you just stay in the dark room forever? Either way, you're absolutely fucked.

[hammed-burger08]

| Selcouth | Chapter one: space station |

Platonic! Yandere! alien x reader

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, violence, death

Summary: While recovering a space capsule your astronaut team discovers an intelligent life form that seems to be a little too attached to you.

Word count: 1,246

Chapters: | one | two | three | four |

A/n: Hey! This is my first ever story that I have posted to tumblr, please go easy on it. Anyway thank you for reading <3

~

“Datalog: entry number 1

Our team of astronauts has finally made it near the orbit of Grannus. Hopefully, the capsule containing the samples taken from Grannus arrives soon. I have a feeling that—" Just as you were about to end your data entry, your favorite person on board interjects.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" You turn around, jumping a little while doing so.

"Oh hey, David! You scared me." David is one of the two people you are currently stationed with inside of the White Sparrow, working as a pilot. He is the only person on this ship you actually enjoy having a conversation with, which isn't saying much, but you really do appreciate having him near you.

"My bad, girly," David replies with a disingenuous tone, laughing a little while he says it. This is one of the reasons why you absolutely love having him around; he always makes you laugh even if it's at the expense of you being teased—which it often is. Not to mention, David is a gorgeous man. You don't feel any attraction to him, but you can admit that he is beautiful. David is a brunette with brown eyes, tan skin, and huge muscles. And by huge muscles, you mean HUGE muscles; seriously, you've seen the man pick up 300 pounds of equipment like it's nothing.

"What's with the new addition of data logs?" David releases his hold from your shoulder, giving you a curious look.

"I want to document everything about this trip, seeing as we could make a huge scientific breakthrough."

"Understandable, however, don't you think you could use other methods of documenting like, um, I don't know, typing on a computer?" With a curious look shifting to an awkward one, David rubs the back of his neck.

"I mean, I have no issue with the data logs, it's just that if the wicked witch of the west heard that, she would flip her shit," he says, trying to explain his last statement.

"Wicked witch of the west? You mean Isla?" Isla was the other person on the ship, working as the technician. Both of you disliked her; however, David disliked her much less than you. It's not like you hated the woman—in fact, you respected her—it's just that she would often belittle you for your attitude (she hated everyone with a positive outlook on life). She was the kind of person to go out of her way and look for any reason to yell at you. You could literally just be sitting there, and she would pull something out of thin air to throw at your face.

"Yes, as if that wasn't obvious already."

"Bro, you can't say that! What if she hears you? I don't wanna be turned into a frog because of your dumbness!"

“Im too pretty to be a frog” you hear David mutter.

"You're so full of yourself," you huff, rolling your eyes.

"Anyway, we should probably get to working before she gets on us." Sighing, David begins to make his way out of the living quarters and into his stationed area.

"Right." You follow him until you inevitably part ways, you going to the medical/research side of the space station and David going to the control room.

It's only 20 minutes later when you hear the devil herself start to lose her temper with you.

"What do you think you're doing!" Isla loudly exclaims. You literally were not doing anything; in fact, you were just passing through her station.

"Nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why do I see you tampering with my things?" You're starting to believe this woman is actually delusional.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can very clearly see you destroying my things," she says with an attitude as if you just dropped a bomb on her work station.

"I literally have not touched anything," giving her a dumbfounded look, you turn to start making your way back to your station.

"Whatever, just leave. If I find out that any of my things are missing, I'm reporting you." Did she literally just tell you to leave even though you were already doing so? Did she actually just accuse you of stealing her things? What is her problem?

"Whatever you say, man." Not wanting to pick a fight, you quicken your pace and make your leave. Despite Isla's horrible personality and overall attitude, she was a very beautiful woman. Isla is a thin, tall brunette with striking blue eyes. She has tan skin and an award-winning smile.

While leaving, you catch a look at one of Isla's monitors. It shows a red blinking dot rapidly approaching the station. You see her turn and give you a look as if you caused it. You were about to question what it was, but you quickly didn't. You already know questioning her won't do you any good, so you go to David. David explains that it's the capsule you and your team have been trying to get your hands on for the past 2 months.

"Datalog: entry number 2

According to our radars, the capsule is headed off track and is rapidly heading towards our location. Isla is currently getting the space station ready to accommodate the capsule." Ending the data log, you look over to Isla's annoyed face. She clearly didn't enjoy you having data logs, but she will just have to deal with it. Slowly, the capsule docks at the end of the space station, locking in place and securing itself on board.

"Great work out there, Isla!" you exclaim, giving her a thumbs up. Isla just stared at you with a bored expression.

"…" You sat there for a good ten seconds waiting for any type of response from Isla, just to get nothing.

"Fantastic job out there, Isla! I knew we could count on you!" David shouts while walking through the door.

"Thank you, David." Wooowwwwww, she really told him thank you even though you basically said the same thing. It's obvious who the favorite is.

Making your way up to the capsule, you begin to unlatch the door. Stepping through the capsule, you look around at the samples the robot on Grannus collected.

"What do we have here?" you say, paying close attention to a certain glass box. It looked like it was moving.

"No fucking way! Oh my god! No fucking way!!!" You shout, running towards the box, missing the nasty look Isla was giving you.

"What is that thing?" Isla says, sounding absolutely disgusted.

"I have no idea," you answer, feeling as though you were on cloud nine. You quickly begin to pick the box up and set it on a table that didn't have anything else on it. The creature in the box was not like anything you have ever seen before. In the middle of its body (?) there seemed to be a closed lily-looking shape that was white. Going out from the middle of the creature, there were four central appendages, all reaching a span of about 21 centimeters. Connecting those appendages was an almost translucent film of cloth-like membrane. In fact, all of the creature seemed to be made of cloth.

"Should we contact the people back on Earth?" you question.

"Yeah, but the signal won't reach them for another 2 weeks," David answered after not speaking for a while.

"I'll get to that right now because whatever that thing is freaks me out," Isla says, walking out of the capsule looking as though she was going to puke.

"Your loss," you mutter.

[starsexplodeatnight]

Cod Guys x Reader!

~First time you’re intimate~

Minors do not engage! You are not fucking wanted here! Go be a kid while you still can! You’ll have 30 chasing at your heels before you know it.

I always start with Price:

3 months into your relationship

M’fucker puts on divorced dad rock. Because he’s not had a lot of time for romance in the past- er decade or so- shut up. He’s a bit… rusty? No, his moves are solid. He’s just a bit of a time capsule from when he was in his twenties and Mr smooth.

What do you mean ‘Hinders’ Lips of an Angel is ‘divorced dad rock’ what the hell’s that mean?

He’ll have planned this sweet, romantic, night for the both of you. He made dinner, look at him: he’s a provider. You try not to laugh but, it’s cute how he’s trying and in a way? He’s succeeding.

Just because you’re onto his tricks doesn’t mean they’re not working.

Then, he puts on his ‘mood music’ he used to put on in the past when he was romancing the ~ladies~ and oh- your lips purse in your best attempt at not giggling. He’s being so cute and you don’t want to pop his bubble.

He sees it though, as he hands you a glass of wine. “Somethin’ wrong bird?” His confidence is there, a little smirk. He wants to know what’s so funny. You shake your head, eyes cast to the side, as you take a sip of wine.

“Mmmmm- nothing, nothing.” He chuckles and sits down next to you, still acting so smooth. “Come on, out with it luv.” And he leans in close.

He’s so handsome…

Then ‘Let her cry’ by Hootie and the Blowfish comes on and you nearly shoot wine out your nose, turning away from him, choking as you try not to laugh.

He, surprised, helps you calm down, patting your back to help you as you cough. “What’s the matter with you? You makin’ fun of me luv?” He cooed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You’re embarrassed with yourself. “Oh John… this is so sweet, very romantic.”

“But?” “You need to turn off the divorced dad rock sweet pea, I’m so sorry.” You say with an apologetic wince. “Divorce dad rock? I-“ He looks at his speakers, then back at you. “The bloody hell is that?”

“Nothing we need to discuss right now.” And you reach over, turning it off yourself. He shook his head, “s’long as you’re happy luv.” And he leans in, pressing his nose against yours as he gives you a sweet kiss. Simultaneously pushing you back to lay against the couch….

Next is Soap!:

This dork is smooth, it’s not fair.

Rough housing after you two come home from a cute dinner date, he’s got you by the waist from behind. He’s giving your neck those dramatic kisses, that are so fucking ticklish. You two are so giggly and stupid and you! And neither of you are even drunk… just… happy.

Both of you pause, his chest against your back as you both try and breathe. Get air back in your lungs…. His face tucks in your neck, both of you staring off into space. Both thinking about the same thing but both waiting for the other to say something first.

It’s been about 1 month of dating and you’d both hadn’t done anything yet, just getting to know each other before anything sexual happened. And it’s been *fun.*

He starts the kisses on your neck again, a lot less dramatic and much more sensual. His arms still locked ‘round your waist.

“S’this okay?” You melt a bit into his arms. “Yes.”

He groans, breathing in deeply and gave your ass a deep strong hump that completely jolts you forward. That made your face so fucking hot.

He puts on ‘your body is a wonderland’ by John Mayer and unlike Price? It works. He’s just- it works! It’s cheesy but, unlike Price who’s trying to have a deep, romantic, moment and chose wrong. Soap is giggly, playful and cheeky during sex.

He’s only ‘serious’ when he’s not in a good headspace, like after a long grueling mission… the rest of the time?it’s so giggly and stupid.

Gaz my darling!:

It’s a curated experience that makes you feel like a princess…. With an impending feeling of being the princess of a porn flick.

Because! As romantic, sweet and charming as he is: he’s still a cheeky fucking shit. Boyish charming and sexy aren’t supposed to mix! … right!?

When you two talk about taking the next step and having sex? He grins his pretty grin and bites his lip before kissing your cheek and darting off to ‘plan’

“Wear something pretty luv’” He called to tell you. The look on his face when you do show up dressed all pretty? You’d think you’d hung the stars in the sky…

Hands you flowers, said he got them from this sweet shop his Captain’s wife works at. They’re beautiful… so much thought and care…

That’s what happens the entire night. So much thought and care and effort has been put into this that it makes you teary eyed. He orders for you at the restaurant, orders something from the pastry case to take home and god-

You get back to your apartment and, it’s lit up with fairy lights. He doesn’t do the typical roses and candles, no. Fairy lights, diffuser with warm vanilla and champagne- yeah it’s time to be sweet on him. You’d think he was going to propose or something!!!

Partners give and take. He romanced the hell out of you and made you feel special? Your turn now. He’s going to take everything you give him, even if he’s trembling.

“Love you Kyle.” “Love you too lovie…”

Classical covers of pop songs in the back… it’s romantic and sweet not too giggly not too serious…

Ghost!:

As much as much as Mr Big and Bad wants to pound your ass into the mattress and crack the wall with your headboard? He… he has issues lovie.

He takes the longest to have sex. Why? His trauma. One second he’s horny as hell rabbiting his hips into your butt then the other he does NOT feel like being touched. He feels bad, feels like he’s cheating you out of something but… how can he apologize for something out of his control?

You two have a talk about it because Simon, as much as he hates talking? He doesn’t want to lose a sweetie like you so he grunts out a few words to explain himself. You piece it together and well, what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t have his best interests at heart.

You understand. This man has trudged through hell over broken glass with no shoes. You can handle yourself in private moments until he’s worked through his problems. As long as he promises to work on them. No more dragging his feet in hesitation.

He needs to work on himself, the thought of being able to take that step with you? That helps. He doesn’t tell his therapist that even when the therapist asks him why he’s suddenly taking this seriously and booking appointments properly instead of going to just the mandatory monthly.

He waits until you’re having fun one night, he can hear the ‘bzzz’ of the toy and he creeps in the room. Lays on the bed on his belly between your legs and takes it away from you. Sets it aside. “This okay?”

Oh, it’s more than okay.

The kids in your preschool ask you why you’re limping. Oh look! Uh- we’re finger painting today!

Another one for inappropriate music choice except he doesn’t change it. He tries to nail you to the beat of ‘in the end’ by Linkin Park… he takes you up on your challenge and says yeah? I can change your mind!

[smolvenger]

Could I Have The McOrgasm, Please? (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You love Loki, but he loves another. You must join Loki on his trip to get Sylvie back by going to the McDonald's she's working at. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside...

Warnings: SMUT AT THE END! NSFW! (Oral, fem receiving, inappropriate uses of Loki's shadow powers, dirty talk, p in v sex). Angst and unrequited (or is it?) love with eventual fluff. Being Anti-Slyki and Anti-Sylvie so if you like the character or pairing you have been warned. This is my indulgent coping method for not getting with a fictional character. Also, as this is published, I don't know what the eff is going to happen in season 2. I just want this out so I can escape to delulu land when canon disappoints me.

Word Count: >8K (phew)

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "I want to have you, btw bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“Yes, she will be there,” Loki confirmed, looking at the restaurant.

You put your hands in your pockets. You were with Loki, Mobius, and a gentleman in a TVA jumpsuit at the McDonalds where Sylvie apparently worked. Just a hop, skip, and jump away. How much you took for granted-just traveling anywhere in space and time. Only, for this place and time was the one place you didn’t want to be. You wished you were anywhere else. A natural disaster, the poorest section of a medieval village, a gladiator tournament, a tuberculosis outbreak in London in the 1870’s-not this.

You didn’t want to watch as the man you loved went to pursue someone else. It was a peaceful place- just a McDonald's in the middle of a regular strip. The sun was gentle. Big clouds drifted in the sky. The birds were singing. You wanted to scream.

 You didn’t just like Loki as a friend. You loved Loki- him and only him. Loved him for a long time. Through the misadventures of life in the TVA, you helped him for long hours scouring over files. You ate lunch together. When the little capsules of pies arrived in the cafeteria for the lunch hour’s dessert options, you would pull out one for him and hand it with a smile. And when he cried over seeing what events were supposed to happen, you ran to embrace him.

Then one day he ran into the mysterious Loki variant- as it turned out her name was Sylvie. Just two days later he went missing with her. Then they reappeared. And then they vanished again. Then he reappeared and people were running in a panic. 

She left him. Kissed him, killed Kang, and then left him in the dust. But it didn’t occur to Loki that this was a betrayal he should be angry about. You remembered that day. He kept talking about her- until there was one phrase that hit you in the stomach.

“Please Y/N- I love her. Help me…help me find her and fix this!”

You would have preferred to be stabbed.

When he did say he loved her, you simply said “Oh, okay. I will.”

 You returned back to your room later that day. Forgetting the chaos and Mobius’s mysterious loss of memory. You sank onto the floor and cried. Cried so hard you couldn’t breathe. Cried so hard and curled up into a ball. Cried so hard you hardly slept for want of crying more.  

Even after what she did, he was still talking of her.  No. All he could talk of was Sylvie this and Slyvie that. Even with you. Why were you even doing this? 

“Uh…I don’t think I should be here…I think I should go back…” you murmured, taking a step back.

“You’re scared…of her? Y/N! You shouldn’t be! She’s incredible, you’ll love her! And you must- you’re the one who remembers what happened!” he insisted.

“What happened?” Mobius asked. The man in the jumpsuit only blinked.

“Y/N…please-I’m nervous…I need the support…” Loki begged at you. His mouth curled into a little frown and his eyes so big they shone like big stars.  You held in a breath. Those eyes. Damn, those eyes- like that of a kitten. You wanted to hug him and cuddle him- but you couldn’t. 

“Okay…” you voiced.

It was odd-not only being rejected, but being rejected for himself! How the hell would you explain that to a therapist?! The more you thought about it, the more it made you sick. The Spidermans in  New York apparently weren’t kissing each other, you heard. You shoved your arms to cross them and continued on. Perhaps if you walked quickly, you could get it over with. Holding your breath, you folded your arms and walked quickly in. Thinking of it like a vaccine- just a little pinch of pain for a brief bit, and then it would be over with. 

You stopped inside that bright, yellow building with its bright lights. There was a woman at the counter.

“Is that…” you asked.

Loki’s pale face turned a shade paler. “Yes.”

There you saw her. Not a glance- seeing her. Truly saw her up close. There were only glimpses when she ran around in the TVA. Here, her blonde hair was cut short beneath her cap and her eyes squinted in tired boredom. She smoothed her uniform. 

You noticed Loki see her. Frozen in his tracks, his mouth open.

“What are you waiting for?” you pressed. 

They kept looking at each other. With a shrug, she moved her eyes forward where a customer showed up to order a McFlurry. Loki blinked and turned to you.

“Does she recognize me?” he asked.

“Go ahead and find out. .” you replied.

“I…I feel like I can’t take another step…” Loki said, his chest falling in shallow breaths. 

Mobius waltzed up in front of you guys along with the variant man. 

“Well- I myself am starving hungry! Y/N-I bet you are too! Let’s order!” he churruped.

You followed them as Loki stayed a the door. Frozen in place. Mobius gestured to the counter. 

“Ladies first!” he chimed.

You stared at her as she finished the last order before you. Drinking in that now your invisible rival had a face. That “Sylvie” wasn’t a wisp of air, a pedestal you could never reach. But flesh and blood. That this was the woman Loki preferred. This was the woman who was Loki. Pale skin and short blonde hair. It seemed damp under her cap. Slender with a long, straight nose and pink lips. Sharp eyes like that of a falcon. Slight grace and ease with how she moved. And you knew from the hundreds of times how Loki boasted of how stupid Sylvie won some stupid fight with a stupid enemy in a stupidly easy manner. 

So many words were in there. You knew what she did. How miserable she really made him. After everything he did for her. And no matter if she felt the same or not, her actions did not account for it. What she did to him. The pure misery and despair on your beloved Loki’s face when she left him. The suffering she put him through even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

And envy. Yes, you were sick with envy. You hated yourself. You hated yourself because you weren’t her. And yet you hated her too. Only hate was swirling in her stomach. Your mouth stopped, for want of the thousands of things you could have said. The thousands of things you fantasized about saying, or doing. You took in a shaky breath, maybe to start one of them. To finally let it out. To scream at her. Yell in her face. They were there- words forming at you like grey clouds forming a thunderstorm. 

She beat you to it.

“Hello, welcome to McDonalds,” she said with a practiced smile. 

 She did not recognize you. She only gave you a nod and replied dutifully, like she repeated it 1,000 times every day.

“What would you like?” she asked, continuing on like she was an actor saying her lines.

To rip out all of your hair and scalp you until you’re screaming and bloody. You thought bitterly. But you did not say that.

“Could I have the-uh, Quarter pounder and small fries and a fountain drink, please?” you requested. 

She nodded with a small smile and tapped into the cash register. 

“My pleasure, coming up…” she said.

When you paid, she handed you the receipt. Then all you had to do was wait until the giant screen announced your order was ready. You felt dizzy as Mobius and the new guy ordered their food. 

Simple as that. Your motivation failed you. She didn’t know you. If you said or did anything, she would flee and get her manager. You would be known as “that” customer who made food service worker’s lives miserable. A story to be gasped or laughed about. And never showing you sympathetically. Or knowing the stories Loki would boast about her-whip out her own daggers and slice you into ribbons. 

You took a step back. Unable to peel her eyes off of her. Imagine her as he would describe- not in a uniform but in tight leather showing a perfect and beautiful slim body. A fighter who could defeat anyone in combat without blinking an eye and who could bring down the whole TVA. 

Could you do that? No- you weren’t some fierce, flawless, warrior goddess. No- you were afraid. Vulnerable. That was your curse-she was extraordinary. You were just ordinary.

You began to mentally list your personal insecurities. How could you even compare to her? No wonder Loki worshipped the ground she walked on after she used him as a punching bag. The screen announced your food and another worker handed you a tray with the burger, fries, and cup. That was a clear sign from the universe itself- might as well drown yourself in comfort food. 

You noticed Loki finally moved from his place. You couldn’t even watch- not even to get your drink. You grabbed your tray of food and fled to a far corner near the bathrooms. Where you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. You wanted to huddle and hide and make yourself invisible.

Then you heard footsteps- rapidly walking around. You looked up to see who it was. It wasn’t Mobius. It wasn’t even the variant in the tracksuit- You could recognize that peachy ass in those brown office khakis anywhere. 

He turned his black curls everywhere as he turned his head to search. Loki went up to you, and then his shoulders relaxed. He even bent a little to meet eyes where you were sitting. 

“Y/N, all the way here?” he asked.

You were such a sucker for that face, especially how soft, how sweet he could look. How could you say no to his presence now? 

“Uh…yeah,” was all you could say. 

As he took a step forward to where you sat, he leaned down, his hands still in his jacket pockets. 

“Where were you- I got worried. Maybe someone had attacked you, or took you,” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” you lied as you took a bite of the burger. “Just wanted to sit here-more private.”

He then pulled up to the chair and sat across from you. 

“How’s the wedding planning?” you wanted to ask bitterly. You did not. You looked down at your food, then up at him. He sat so casually, so easily. He folded one leg over another and set an arm down. You pulled out your bag of fries. It was so piping hot it hurt a little- but that was how you liked it.

“I’m nervous too, Y/N. I have to tell you…I cried this morning…I know I have to face her. I’ve taken over cities, I’ve battled monsters, but this…this is different…” Loki confessed.

You chewed on a fry instead of replying. Tasting the crispy hot potato flavor. He let out a deep exhale, putting a hand lightly over his mouth. 

“What’s wrong with me, Y/N?” he asked.

You wiped the salt onto your pants. The words flowed out of you easily. Too easily. 

“Nothing is wrong with you, Loki! You’re the nicest, sweetest, bravest, sexiest being in the whole-”

“What was that last one?” he asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes squinting. 

You immediately froze, the fry you were about to eat hung in mid-air. You felt hot with embarrassment. 

“You’re the nicest, smartest being in the whole universe!” you said.

Before he could say anything else, you began digging further into those hot fries. “Mmph, These are so good. And just right-right when they’re out of the fryer.” You chatted on, desperate to change the subject after your little Freudian slip.

“Can I…try one?” he asked.

He held out his hand and you pressed a few fries into it. He chewed on them and then smiled as he tasted them.

“Not bad! Midgard food isn’t as pitiful as I thought!” he replied.

Mobius returned with his tray along with his companion. They ate and Mobius commented on how the Sweet and Sour sauce was his favorite. Loki looked at him, his smile dropping. Then he turned to you, his voice low. Mobius kept on chatting about everything to the variant. 

“He still doesn’t remember…It seems all who care about me just…either die or leave or hurt me…” he mourned.

“I don’t…and think of Thor. Yes, you two fight. But he loves you. And remember your own mother! They care about you. They always will…and so will I…” you assured him.

Your hand moved up to touch his, then froze and retreated. Then he turned to you.

“Y/N?”

“Mhhm?” you asked, a mouth full of food. 

“...You have salt on your chin…” he commented.

He reached out his hand to cup it. Your breath stopped at his touch- so gentle, so soft. His large thumb grazed over your chin slowly. Your mouth opened a little, feeling his light brush as his thumb swiped the bits of salt away. How small it seemed under his large hands. But he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest- it felt like a caress. A light kiss. Once his thumb went back to his hand, his eyes went to yours. Seeing his blueness, his large, dark pupils. As if something unspoken was exchanged between you. You saw him swallow hard. 

Taking in a deep breath after that, you retreated, putting your hands on your lap and looking down. The heaviness of sudden arousal from his touch had shocked your system. You reached for your drink to cool off but realized it was empty. You had eaten all of your meal. There wasn’t food you could use to hide now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths- in, two three four, out two three four. 

“There that’s…that’s better,” Loki said. 

“Thank you- it won’t be easy, but….one day, you won’t be sad about what happened. You won’t feel nervous or scared…you’ll get over it Loki, bit by bit,” you encouraged softly. 

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on the table.

“Ah, tell me, my dear Y/N- Have you ever had your heart broken?”

The burger in your throat dried up. You took your napkin and bunched it into a ball in your hand. 

“Yes,” you answered plainly. Fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I never did! Never! None of that drama! I’ve never been more relieved!” Mobius sang out as he chewed on a nugget. His companion only kept tearing at his burger.

“Is it terrible?” Loki asked. His brows knotted in curiosity.

“Very. Still is,” you replied.

“How did you cope with it? You little mortals-going about your own lives and your own heartbreaks?” he asked generally.

You shoved aside the tray and folded your arms. Then you began to speak.

“Realizing that love shouldn’t be a prison.”

“A prison?” Loki repeated. He leaned forward. Staring right at you. Truly listening to you. You continued, though you felt your body tense up. Knowing what you said was honest- too honest. 

“I was…not with him in any way. He wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or hookup or whatever. This guy- I thought… he should be with whoever makes him happy….”

Even with someone who betrayed him, manipulated his feelings, and left him crying. 

“Love means letting go. It’s the right thing to do- it’s still hard though,” you finished. 

Loki registered nothing beneath the surface of that. He merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He looked at you, giving you a small smile. 

“I’m glad you’re alright and happy now, Y/N. I remembered the time you were about to fall off the TVA balcony right over those statues last month…”

“And you caught me-you saved my life!”

“To think…me…a hero for once…” he commented.

“That’s a Loki for you! A pure miracle for your kind!” Mobius commented. 

He took a long sip of his Sprite. 

 “Wow! Now this is a drink!” he exclaimed, inside the cup for the bubbly carbonation. 

“Well, Mobius, this isn’t fiction. No one is all good or all bad. And Loki, no one entirely bad does that…everyone’s a mix of good and bad,” you added on. 

“What’s your bad parts, Y/N? Any weaknesses” Loki asked curiously.

“I…get jealous…” you confessed. 

The god’s jaw lowered to the ground. His voice dared to raise a little bit from his surprise. 

“Jealous!? But…you’re…you’re so kind! I’m the jealous one!” he said. 

You continued on. The words poured out of you more quickly than you could register or control them. 

“It doesn’t mean I never feel jealous. Or am tempted to do things like take her face and smash it over the McDonad’s register.”

“What?!?!”

You stopped. A hand flew over your mouth to cover it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking?!?! you cursed silently. Another slip. And this time, he heard it clearly. No hiding around it.

“Whose face are you talking about?” Loki asked further.

“I…Forget that…I didn’t say anything! Good luck with your meet-cute and reunion and all that. Have fun- bye!” you dismissed quickly. 

You grabbed your tray. 

“Y/N…wait…” he said.

“Where is she going?” Mobius asked, tilting his head. He then remembered he had more sweet and sour sauce with his McNuggets and began dipping into them with a childish glee.

He reached out and grabbed your arm. You pulled against him and he held you back.

“What’s going on!?” the god asked. 

“Don’t touch me- save it for her!” you hissed out. Yanking away from him- not even looking at his face. 

You looked right at the door and walked hurriedly. Momentum, panic, pulling you out of there. You kept your eyes on the exit as you dumped your trash into the bin. You walked to the outside of the McDonalds. It was sunny with the sun’s orange glow and a little chilly. You got the tempad from your pocket to return. But then you heard  Loki jog behind you. You kept walking down the pavement. Glad that there weren’t moving cars right now. If not, you wished a moving one would hit him and send him flying. But it didn’t. 

“Y/N, stop!” he insisted.

You stopped walking. But you turned around. You didn’t look at him- only at the rows of cars and empty parking spots in the strip. But you heard him behind you. 

“I’ve stopped. Now what?” you asked. At least you could hide behind sass and snark. It made the pain better. 

“Whose face were you talking about?” he asked. 

“I’ve got to go, Loki,” you urged.

“Y/N, wait!” he cried. 

You felt him grab you. He turned you around, his arms gripping you into place. His eyes were intense and his jaw lowered. He still looked so handsome- like a dream. His intensity, the feel of his bare hands on you making it more intense, making him more attractive. You were forced to face him. Your eyes were brimming with more tears. He almost shook you as he held you- so strong. His skin, his scent. Like he wouldn’t let go of that for the world. If only you could experience that for yourself. 

“Y/N….are you…jealous of Sylvie?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I said something about hurting her. I know it was wrong to-but yes. I’m jealous of her. Have been for a while. Isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

“Why?!”

You burst into tears. Your jaw tightened.

“I need to go, Loki…just let go, please,” you begged. 

As you moved he held his grip on you.

“No! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why!” he demanded. 

You thought confessions like this should be done in moonlit gardens or sexy hotel suites or something. Not the parking lot of a fucking Mcdonald's. But here you were.

“Why? Because I love you, Loki. More than as my friend-much more.”

“You…love me?” he asked. His eyes were wide. His jaw dropped and then it closed back, his pink lips barely parted. 

Your words sputtered out. His grip relaxed on your arms. You had no choice but to look him in the eye and talk. 

“ I’ve always loved you…I’ve loved you every afternoon, on weekdays, on coffee breaks. I’ve admired and taken note of every one of your feats. I stayed by when you were sitting at the TVA crying when she opened the multiverse and left you. But…the thing with love…is that it means letting go…”

How handsome he looked. His jacket-how warm would it feel? Would it smell like him? And the shirt that hugged his body. You glanced down and felt twinges of lust mixed with your sadness. With a man as delectable as he, you couldn’t help it. How broad yet lean and strong he was. How his bare skin would feel against your bare skin. How many times have you fantasized nightly about having him in your bed? But there was only one being in these universes and timelines who would know. And it wasn’t you.

“What…Y/N…really…all this time…” Loki murmured. 

. You felt anger in your throat and venom in your voice. 

“If you think the best relationship you need is with a woman who is literally you with a vagina who you knew for three days and then left you in the dust for her own gain, then take it! Because…beacuase…”

You began to step away. Ready for him to be angry at your words about her. His eyebrows lowered and there was no anger- only his parted lips of shock. You began Crying again. You thought you saw him tear up too. 

“Because that’s what you want, what you choose…and I have to let you go…”

You turned on your heels and promptly left. Wiping your tears on your sleeve. Using the tempad, you returned to your home. You ran inside, fell on your bed, and sobbed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Monday began, you were ready to work. You got in your nicer dress and cardigan for the day. The TVA office could get chilly. Right when you walked in, there was Loki. In his own work wear. You froze. What on earth were you going to say? What could you say?

“I was worried about you. How are you, Y/N? Feeling better?” he asked, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know…yes….yes I am…” you nodded.

He gave you a kind smile.  You waited for him to bring up what happened, what you said. He did not.

“How did…McDonalds go?” you asked.

“For your information, it went alright,” he informed you.

You felt a giant lump in your throat. You pulled your cardigan further over you-looking down on the floor as you spoke. 

“The reunion- did she-”

“She just wanted to focus on her job,” Loki answered before you could finish your statement.  He went up closer to you. “I hope your day at work goes well, my dear…if any supervisor gives you trouble, they’ll answer to me…wait- there’s a hair on your shirt,” he said.

He gently brushed it away on your shoulder.

“There you go- you look…you look nice today. The colors suit you,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

It was a normal, boring day. And the next day was a normal boring day- that was comforting. 

When you went into the cafeteria, you decided to buy lunch. After all, it was going to be the best meal they offered at the TVA- grilled ham and cheese with tomato soup-nice and warm. You counted your coins from your pocket to make up the total. It was cheap-but still eating at it every day could take a toll if you weren’t careful.

As you walked up with your change, the cafeteria lady shook her head in her hair net.

“Oh no- it’s on the house!” she said.

She gave you a smile as she brought a tray ready. Your own surprised face gleaming from the glass over the food.

“Really?!” you gasped incredulously. 

“Yes-your lunches are free from now on!” announced the cafeteria lady. 

“Oh…thank you!” you cried.

Smiling, she handed you a grilled ham and cheese and poured tomato soup into a bowl before handing it to you. They tasted especially warm and decadent. 

Loki appeared here and there. But he would ask after you. Talk to you. He never mentioned the warrior goddess version of himself to you. Not anymore, at least. But he didn’t bring up what he said. 

 As you got to your office desk on the fifth day, he was standing there- waiting for you. Your coworkers were watching with one eye from where they sat and worked. Some even stood up to see. 

“Hello, Y/N!” he greeted. 

 He walked forward and you gasped aloud when he turned. In his white hands was a glass vase full of fresh, beautiful flowers- your favorite kind. Bright and beautiful with a fragrance that sweetened the area that used to be full of the smell of crisp paper and old coffee. 

“I…I thought you might like this,” he offered, handing you the vase.

“I…I, uh…uh-thank you,” you said.

Why was he suddenly being nice? It then hit you- he still valued your friendship. Even if he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to let you go yet. Probably making peace. But you were in public, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss matters of the heart openly. But…that was better than a full friendship breakup. Of never seeing that mischievous, handsome god ever again.

You smelled the flowers and set them on your desk. He leaned against it, something glinting in his eyes. Something that made you feel fluttery and distracted you from the start of the day.  

“How’s the…Kang mission going?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. If not well. A few bumps here and there- but things will probably be fine.  You have nothing to fear…but what about you? How is work?” he asked.

“It’s been downright slow the past few days. Then today it’s picked up, but…nothing I can’t handle.” you reported.

He leaned a little closer, the old trickster light beaming in his eyes. 

“Anyone being difficult? He asked. 

You couldn’t help but smile. 

“Some were in the past, but…but no.”

“Then…I hope you have a good day, Y/N. I will talk to you later. Don’t let them work you too hard, darling,” he said. 

He gave you a wink that sent butterflies into your stomach and then walked away.

How nice he was. Taking it so well. You always knew there was a little good in him. Even if all that was for someone who didn’t deserve him…

After work, you splurged on cheesecake and a bottle of wine.  You were going to need it.

After you got back home, you brought in your goods. You listened to sad music and cried to flush more of it out of your system.  Grieving Sylvie and Loki being a couple. Imagining them kissing and doing more than kissing by now a hundred times. You took a hot shower to cleanse every picture of it from yourself.  You changed into your pajama shirt and shorts. You sat on your chair in your room, ready to eat a generous helping of cheesecake and a generous glass of wine. 

You were going to go somewhere far from the TVA. You had to. Get a new job somewhere. Meet as many men as possible. Try other forms of dating. Or not just dating– just meet anyone. Forget him. Forget Loki. Forget his dark curls and blue eyes and sinful waist in those tight shirts and mischievous smile. Move on from him, move on from being rejected. Even if he was nice to you and wanted to still be friends. You were going to forget it all. Sacred timeline be damned. Your happiness and peace of mind was shattered.

Then it hit you…it was odd that out of nowhere you had free lunches at work. Why was that?

An answer hit you.

Could it…could it be…it was… No. It was bribery. Yes! All bribery because he needed help with some villain who lived in a mansion with purple robes and a flair for the dramatics. All being beside his perfect, flawless girlfriend. Having their love rubbed in your face. You wanted to spit. 

Right as you were about to take your first bite of cheesecake, There was a loud knock. 

“Y/N…please let me in…I have to talk with you,” a voice you knew too well asked from the door.

You gripped the seat of your chair.

“Loki?! Is that you?” you asked from where you sat. 

“Who else, darling?”

“Just use your magic and break into my place!” you replied.

“I��d rather enter with your permission…” he said. 

Not caring that you were in your sleepwear, you opened the door. Still in his jacket and TVA office wear, he stepped inside. Your hands curled into fists. He was beautiful as ever-jacket and cheekbones and all. You could have screamed at him. You could have punched him. You could have slammed the door in his face. 

But…you didn’t. You couldn’t.  You crossed your arms and took a step back, but you looked at him. 

“Loki…what are you doing here? What else can I say to you? Thanks for your gifts. I know you need help with Kang but…I can’t…I can’t do it…and you have someone waiting for you. Go to her. Go to who you love.” 

“But….I am with who I love…” he replied. 

A stone dropped into your stomach. Your whole body tightened. Your breath stopped and your throat ran dry.

He stepped inside. Then he cupped your face with both hands. 

“Y/N…I’ve been so blind…” he confessed.

Before another word was said, he kissed you on the lips. Deeply, sweetly. You smelled him- smelled popcorn and musk. Yet he tasted of cream on your lips, of froth. Like a dessert after dinner and twice as sweet. He held you so that your lips could stay together. Then he released, still holding your face. 

“Loki…what is this? What’s going on? Is this another…another of your tricks, then…” you asked, your voice only half of its strength. 

He kept you close. Looking right at you. His voice was so dulcet, so earnest. 

“It’s not. Y/N…I never realized how much you cared for me. How much you really did…and to think…I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t.  No one saw me…but you…and to think…all this time I was chasing after someone. A shadow. A dream. An illusion better than any I could conjure. An idea of her. Not realizing…that love, that sweetness I have wanted my whole life…was right in front of me…” he said softly.

“You finally came to your senses!” you cried.

Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

“But…she’s with you to fight Kang- and you’re back together?” you asked.

“She doesn’t remember me. And she… wanted nothing to do with me. It struck me what she did…how she treated me. And then I thought of how you treated me…I kept thinking of you, thinking of you. I missed you. I looked for you. I…I didn’t want to cross paths with her…I realized…there was someone always there for me…yes-you…Oh, Y/N, I’ve been a fool,” he breathed. 

He held you and kissed you again and you almost gasped into it. Feeling him. You grabbed onto his jacket. Held him close-felt how close he was. His eyelashes. His tall cheekbones graze against your face. It made you shiver. He let go of the kiss, pressing his forehead onto yours.. Both of you closed your eyes and could hear his breathing fluttering.

“Y/N, my dear…can you forgive me?” he asked. 

“I can. Can you forgive me?” you asked. 

“I already have.”

He let go. He still kept his eyes on you as he reached his hand to the door and pushed it close. The momentum made it shut. His long finger made a swipe-out of it came a bit of green seidr. And you heard a click! The door locked in place.

“I wanted someone who loved me…who would take care of me…and it was you the whole time….it was you, Y/N…I…I don’t…” he muttered. 

He paused. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked down. He licked his lips and his eyes scattered, a blush on his cheeks. 

“I don’t…even know what to say now…how to put it…uh, Y/N…I…I, uh-”

“I love you too, Loki…and…I’m glad you’re okay now,” you breathed.

You were on him to kiss him again. He pulled you close. He moved a little tongue in. Your breath hitched from feeling him there. His hands on your back-keeping you pressed against him. Never wanting to let go. 

“Y/N…don’t let this end here. Let me stay…let me stay for tonight…” he whispered.

“You can stay,” you said with a nod. 

You felt his fingers dig into your skin. To leave his fingerprints on you. 

 He then moved on to kiss your neck. It tickled you a little. But he found a sensitive spot- a spot rarely kissed. He pressed his lips to it as he held you close. Then he used a bit of teeth. It elicited a groan from you. You felt him tense up as it escaped your lips. He sucked the area.

“Here…now you’ll never doubt that you are mine…and I am yours…”

 He made another bite, another mark. Arousal squirmed inside you, releasing out to your panties with his touch, his lips on your skin. He kissed you again and you melted into it. The friction between you was building up. He squared his hips to meet your own and you stifled a gasp. His hands wander down your body-exploring each curve and shape, hidden only by the thin cotton of your sleepwear. Feeling you like a discovery of forgotten land. Finding each nook and curve of your shape inside your clothes. But you did not move an inch away-but kept him there. You ran a hand up to feel his back-always so warm. Masculine even. 

“Loki…darling…” you moaned out as he kissed each bit of the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. His hands wrapped to be around your back.

He kissed you again. You reached your hand to rake through his dark curls- they had been washed and were so fresh and clean and soft-softer than the petals of the flowers on your desk. 

 You could feel something getting hard from his office pants. It brushed against the crotch of your own clothes and made you quench beneath.

“Y/N…my pet…I want…I want to have you…to have you now…will you let me?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, I do…I want you…” you agreed.

“Then… let's make up for lost time…” he growled.

He kept kissing you as he put his hands around your waist, grabbing you and taking you right to your bedroom. His hands moving back up to cup your face, to keep kissing you so close. He released and looked down at your clothes. He then touched your collar, seeing where it dipped, and showed a bit of your chest. He smiled as his hands went down, feeling the material. 

“If I knew this had any chance of happening, I would’ve worn something else…” you confessed.

“Does that really matter when the best part will always be beneath it?” he asked. 

With a flash of seidr from his fingers, the pajamas vanished and you were naked before him. You gasped at the cold. You fought the urge to cover yourself. It wasn’t that this was your first- but to show your body before Loki was a different matter. You have never wanted someone so bad, and you never felt more…vulnerable. Your arms flinched to cover your breasts then he caught you. 

“Ah-ah, Don’t hide your beauty from me, not anymore…” he said with a playful tone. 

He moved your arms aside to see you. He cupped one breast in his large, beautiful hand- thumb grazing the nipple, making you shiver. 

“Yes…that is the best part…” he said.

He kissed you again, his hand wandering down- feeling your bare back. Even grazing your bottom, then going up to your hips, your curves. He was feeling you- treasuring each inch of you. He kissed you again as you connected your hips to his. Electricity shooting through you. You let out a shuddering groan. He gave you another smile- it was so lustful, so devilisih, so him.  

“There’s something else I can do, my Y/N…would you like to try it?” he boasted quietly.

“Yes…show me what it is…”

“I can hold you back…tie you without any silk, any rope, any chains, any restraint…” he whispered. 

“How?” you pressed. 

There was a light flashing in his eyes-so light, so different. From the dim lights of your room out came shadows like his- with his horned helmets on them. The shadows lurched over and you almost gasped. Then they went down to the floor. 

“They can touch you- do you want to know what they feel like?” he asked.

“Yes…”

The shadows reached out their arms, traveling up. They felt like mist when they grazed your skin. But then one pulled up your first arm high- and it was strong. You couldn’t break out of it, no matter how you tugged. Then the other lifted your other arm up high. The light was still in Loki’s eyes, the shadows lifted you up before him. A prize free for his taking. He grinned as they wandered on how your position made your breasts dangle before him.

“Now…where were we…ah, yes…” he said.

The shadows were strong but gentle as they moved you over. You were floating-then they laid you on the bed. Your arms were lifted to remain high over your head as your back went over the duvet. Your arms were held over your head, laying over the pillow. 

“I…I like this power…”

He smirked, his hands still in his pockets.

“As do I…and I am bout to like them even more…”

More shadows appeared- they flicked across your legs.

“What pleasure is hidden between here- they can help show me, perhaps…”

They curled to your ankles and then gently opened your legs before him.-showing your dripping pussy before the god. He played cool. Only his quick breaths and the bulge in his pants hinted at his craving, his desire. Your breasts out and your legs opened- nothing hidden. Now the shadows had you out and open-something for him to devour, something out to be fucked.

He walked forward. He brought out a long finger. He touched your folds gently, sliding them down. You let out a gasp. 

“L-Loki…” you breathed out. It was so sinful, so filthy you couldn’t help but love it. 

“Why…this is quite the picture. If I could only paint it…but I only want this masterpiece for myself, and no one else.” he rasped. 

He walked over to the bed. Then he crawled so he was between your legs. The shadows keeping your legs open. His hand grazed over your inner thigh. 

“Here…you’ve been a good little angel Taking care of me. Shhhh-shhh- you don’t need to object, to think of my pleasure for now. You’ve worked so hard…now relax…let your god take care of you this time, darling.”

You were gasping and whimpering. He began to taste you- his tongue inside. He groaned as his tongue went further into your folds. His cold breath against your private wetness made public for him. Your arms flinched but the shadows held you tight. He flicked his tongue and you let out a small groan.

“L-L-Loki…yes…I-oh, oh god-yes…” you sputtered out.

His shadows lifted your hips so he could taste further. His tongue delved. It found your clit and you shuddered from it. He gave a few licks. He went up closer to where your clitoris was swollen and waiting for him. Then he stopped. 

“Now this…this tastes better than any of those Midgardian meal down there…This one is sweeter, with much more juices…and this one I can devour at no cost at all…”

You were whimpering-letting him lick your clit. Letting his tongue go through- each bit of you.  Explore you. Your own cries filled you up. But the shadows kept you wide open. 

“L-Loki…that…that feels so-so good…”

With a small gasp, you felt pleasure spiral in you. He licked a bit further-and soon it broke on you. Like the wings of a bird when it catches the wind and lifts up. The pleasure burst and you let out a gasp from your petit mort. 

Your heart was racing, and your blood coursing through you. Loki was smiling- his lips wet with your juices. And still fully clothed. 

“I hope they don’t replace me-I’ve yet to get my hands on you again, my pet.” 

He crawled on top of you. He kissed you so his tongue got into yours-another hole for him to claim. You could taste your own earthy scent and thick juices. Still restrained, he held you, grinding lightly onto you. Your hips lifted a little to meet his- no shadows needed. But you felt their cool touch curling around you. Touching all over you- he wanted to touch you, feel you, know you, devour you in every way. 

“Please…I want more…I want you…I want you inside of me, Loki…” you begged.

He smirked, a curl coming loose on his face. 

“Oh…my tongue was only to prepare you, my dear…I hope you are ready…”

“Yes…yes-please..I want you to fuck me, fuck me until I forget everything else…forget Kang, the TVA, timelines, all of it! I don’t care if it’s by your shadow’s cock or yours- I need you! All of you!” 

“You need only ask, my dove,” he purred.

The green seidr flashed with a tilt of his head, then down it went. It melted his clothes off.  He became naked. You underestimated how fit his body was. You forgot your words at this sight of his nakedness. How strong, muscled, and broad he was despite his leanness. His masculine hairs across his chest-his large, strong biceps. Abdominals and a very happy trail leading to his erect largeness. The shadows curled their grip around you. They pulled your legs to open wider. 

“I hope you’re ready for the love of a god,” he murmured. 

  He embraced you, kissing you as he began to sink in. Bit by slow bit. He got himself in, groaning. You let out a cry when all of him was inside. He was so big, you had to adjust. Your arms flinched again but they remained held back. His arms reached around you-keeping you close. He then held you- his own hands digging into your hips and thrusting into you. 

“Oh-oh, god!” you whimpered

“That’s- that’s what I like to- to hear-shall you try it again? Yes- yes-urgh- so-so tight, my love-yes-” he growled. 

He began to slowly thrust into you. He groaned into it- slow, but steady. Intruding your insides. He rolled with you, a gentle rolling of his body. Kissing you deeply. Then he kept at it. Your voice escaped you. His cock disappeared and reemerged. But he looked at your face, in your eyes as he fucked you into your bed. 

With a flick of his head, the shadows moved your legs so that your knees bent and you were angled deeper.

“Fuck! Oh-oh dear-Loki I-I-I can’t-shit-can’t believe this-this is-fuck- happening--happening right now-it’s-it’s-its-fuck!- too good to be true-” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s-it’s true darling…”

He thrust carefully, slowly. Then he picked up. His voice was like that of a hiss, right into your ear.

“And you’re-” Thrust. “-Mine.” Thrust.

He kept kissing you as he thrust, thrust, thrust. His shadows testing you, splaying you a little more open. Hearing each other's groans. Moaning your name, repeating it like a prayer of his own. A prayer only a god could give.  His own grunts were deep and guttural. He found the right pace. Painting with each thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Yes…yes, you’re-you’re mine and-yes-I will…I will be yours-we are at each other’s mercy…now…yes-”

His pace increased. His shadows holding you back bed hitting itself against the wall. Then the shadows moved so your legs flew right up by him. It was so wild, so fast. Then his long finger curled to your entrance. Finding the clit. Rubbing so hard- so much. Slam, slam, slam, slam. You gasped- it was the right, perfect place. You were going up, up in your pleasure. His finger tested your clit faster, harder with his thrusts. You felt his voice, his groans rising in pitch. And that bubbling, spinning feeling was going inside you, your toes clenching as your legs were up in the air. 

“Oh…oh gods…Loki…I’m going to cum again-I-I am…”

He held you close- this time his own flesh-his thrusts wilder, desperate. He was breathless, with every gasp, every taking in of pleasure, he urged you. His voice husky and to the point of breaking. 

“Yes-yes-go-there-I…I can’t—cum, darling, cum with me-your heat, your wetness-it’s going to-going to overwhelm me-I…I can’t I-yes-yes-cry out-cry out my name, darling…I-I-I-”

His thrusts were so wild, pounding you right into the bed. Nailing you there, completely taking you over. That sweet spot- thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust-when it hit like lightning that you let out what started as his name, and then you hit it, it became a shout. 

“L-Ah!”

It reverberated throughout your home. Whoever was next door or nearby would definitely hear it. With a strangled cry of his own, he arrived as well. 

His shadows retreated. He still wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into you. His arms wrapping around you. He felt so warm- you could smell his sweat, feel how he had to catch his breath. Your heart was still reeling after that bout of pleasure. He hugged you close.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out.

He let out a small smile and you both laughed.

“To think I could’ve been enjoying…that all this time, my dear…” he said, he kissed you on the forehead. “And now…I hope you don’t mind that again….”

“Can it be every day?” you asked.

“Of course!” he laughed.

He sighed as you settled into each other.

“What are we going to tell Mobius…the TVA?” you wondered.

“We’ll think of something…” he said.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around you. With a bit of magic, he conjured a large shirt over you-soft and comfortable. 

“I was going to get some wine and Cheesecake- would you like any?” you asked.

“Both Sounds lovely to me…but Y/N…I am genuinely sorry, I really am.” he said, his eyes wide and sweet. 

“And I genuinely forgive you…emotions make people do things-”

He grinned.

“Such as this,”

He pulled you to his lap. You hugged and kissed his cheek. Yes, you would figure out life as a couple in the TVA together. Life with some new villain back and on the rise. But for now…you had to just enjoy each other. This new, blossoming, new love. Yes- how good that word felt rumbling in your mind. It echoed as he joined you to get plates and glasses.

You both smiled as you had your first sips and ate your first bites. He thanked you with a kiss- tasting sweeter than any food, dessert or dinner- could ever taste to you.

[elsa-fogen]

Ok, Rosie headcanon for you!! Might be a slight AU but whatever lol

I like to imagine that Rosie is actually REALLY old. Died in the 1400s or something (maybe for being a suspected witch 👀) , and she just sort of kept up with the times until she found a period that suited her (getting there on that). This also ties into Cannibal Town/Colony name thing!!

Idk how much you know about American history (I know if I didn't live in this crazy country I'd know nothing by choice lol), but in the late 1500s Roanoke Colony was established where North Carolina is now. They struggled with supplies and relations with native people so the founder left to get supplies/help etc; when he came back 5 years later everyone had disappeared without a trace, no graves, bodies, only the word "CROATOAN" carved into a rock. It's a mystery nobody has solved since.

BUT.

WHAT IF.

They ran out of resources, right? What if food ran so low that people began to resort to cannibalism? And things were going so badly that some desperate person tried to summon a demon, anything to help them?

And Rosie, twisted and dark as she may be, took her own sort of sympathy on the poor, struggling colony of Roanoke, and took them all down to Hell as her own colony of souls: Cannibal Colony, leaving Roanoke empty without a trace of its inhabitants. From then on, she just sort of adopted any cannibals who fell into hell as part of her little town, so long as they assimilated and didn't cause trouble. She owns all their souls, yes, but they have some level of peace and security knowing she'll take care of them.

With the "updating culture" thing, I also headcanon that she liked to keep up with the times and stay current until sometime after slavery ended, a little before Alastor arrived (depression era) she didn't like where modern times were headed and just sort of...stopped progress, like a time capsule. Modern times started progressing too fast, and she didn't want everything to be forgotten in the rush to the future, especially the way the human world was looking with the depression. She did rename them to Cannibal Town eventually, since it was more than just her original Colony that gave her Overlord status.

I love Rosie 👁👄👁 sorry for the giant text block lol

P.S. Your art inspires me so much!! And your characterizations are *chef's kiss* I feel like your blog is consistently one I can come to to get canon-accurate character content without facing an onslaught of r********e (finally someone who can't stand it as much as me! Sending all the love 💓

oH WOW! This is really damn good and interesting headcanon! You almost convinced me to change mine to this (well, i like the idea of Rosie being SUSPECTED witch gshssh angssssst yessss). I realized that actually I don't have much that keeps me from just accepting this. Only 2 things

one is that she in her life was fighting for women's rights, and keeps doing it in hell, but i guess she still can even being older.

second one is more important. Rosie and Alastor are roughly same age (30-40 age gap is nothing in hell, were age gaps can be thousands of years) and this is one of the reasons they get along, i think.

Plus in my plot Rosie being a relatively young overlord plays significant role...

But as i said, you headcanon really cool! Maybe i'd use it for some new AU haha

P.S. Your art inspires me so much!! And your characterizations are *chef's kiss* I feel like your blog is consistently one I can come to to get canon-accurate character content without facing an onslaught of r********e (finally someone who can't stand it as much as me! Sending all the love 💓

GAHYHHHAFGS THANK YOU! I'm really happy to know that i'm not alone on this hate board hsbfsdhfj

Here you can be safe, never ever you'll see anything positive about this ship on my blog 😂 (no offence to those who likes it) Love you too 💖💖💖

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 27th

Day 27: Lap Dances // Hate Fucking - Angry Sex // Breast Worship

Ezra x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Anger/frustration, mentions of limb loss, hate fucking, face slapping, covering of the mouth, cock riding, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Shut up, shut up.” You huff under your breath, growling out the words as they echo in your helmet. Irritation mounting every second that passes as the other voice continues to ramble through the speaker beside your ear. “Shut the fuck up!”

“And then-“ the voice pauses for a blessed second and then starts up again. “Did you say something? I couldn’t hear you.”

Of course he couldn’t hear you. He wouldn’t shut the fuck up. You might have also had your microphone off so he couldn’t hear you. So he couldn’t hear you mumble and bitch as your irritation mounts. 

You don’t respond and he calls your name. “Little bird?” Then a hand touches your arm and you spin towards Ezra, your hand hitting the button on your radio. “No!” You hiss, staring at him through the glass of both of your helmets. Watching as those brown eyes furrow slightly in consternation and that gives you some satisfaction. 

“Could have sworn I saw you say something.” He murmurs. “My apologies, little bird.” Something like hurt briefly flashes but it’s gone before you can blink. “Where was I? Oh yes-“

On and on, he chats. Rambles. Telling you story after story that you’ve heard at least ten times already. Throughout the rest of the day and even on the fucking walk back to the pod you and Ezra have called home for the last five months you’ve been on this moon. 

Anger and pure hatred building up in your system when you finally get a chance to rip of the helmet that protects you from the noxious vapors once you are inside the air tight capsule. Nearly throwing it in a corner as you rip your suit off with hasty, jerky motions. 

You don’t care that you seem angry, you are angry. Pissed off that Ezra won’t stop. Digging under your skin every day and festering like a sore until it reptures. 

“Little bird…” The tone is soft, meek. Possibly ashamed but you can’t hear anything else but the fact that this man is talking to you again. Once again filling your head with his voice. You swear you hear it in your sleep. Whipping around, you see him gesture to his suit. “I-” 

“Fuck.” You growl, your own suit stripped off, and today for some reason, the fact that Ezra needs help taking his off sends you over the edge. 

Your hands are hard, rough. Yanking his body this way and that as you drag the velcro seams apart and tugging the zippers down with little care if they snag or pull at his clothes underneath. 

He’s quiet, possibly the most quiet he’s ever been and that just makes you angrier. Biting out orders until he is just in the worn soft and threatbare sweats that he prefers. It’s easier when he only has his left arm. 

“I’m-”

Whatever he is going to say, you cut him off. “SHUT UP!” You scream, nearly launching yourself at him and your lips collide with his. 

He’s stunned, caught off guard, but you don’t stop. Pushing him back, pushing him down into the chair that serves at the pilot’s seat, you pull back and slap him across the face. 

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss, right before slamming your lips back against his like it is the only thing that will stop him from talking. 

Maybe it is. He isn’t talking when you climb into his lap, your fingers dragging through his short hair and tugging on it. Your teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to bruise. He still doesn’t speak. 

Ezra moans. His loan arm grabbing your waist and wrapping around you to drag you closer. Mouth opening and you can’t risk him speaking again, so you slide your tongue into his mouth ravenously. Eager to hear nothing but the grunts that come from his throat as you yank his head back. 

“Shut up.” You hiss, pulling away and kissing and biting down his throat, marking him roughly and almost carelessly in your blind rage. “Fucking driving me crazy.” 

Your hips grind down, feeling him hardening against your core as you curse him. “Fuck, I hate you.” You pant, letting go of his hair to reach between you and squeeze his cock roughly, feeling him twitch violently against your palm. 

“Litt-”

“Shut up!” You peel yourself off his lap, delivering a stinging slap to his cheek before you are stripping down your pants and worn panties, the damn things nearly falling off your hips. You aren’t gentle when you yank his own down. Hearing the fabric rip slightly and revealing his hard cock, bobbing up from his lap. 

Ezra clamps his mouth shut, his eyes wide and expressive and you just know the bastard wants to fucking say something. He wants to run that fucking mouth of his and ask you what the fuck you are doing. 

Spitting in your hand, you wrap it around his length and pump it, making him whine and his eyes roll back. 

“Fucking listened to you all fucking day.” You hiss, your pumps of his cock harsh but he’s not complaining. Not that you would listen to him if he did. You’re done fucking listening to him. “Kevva help me, I’m sick of it. Sick of you.” 

You straddle him again, still holding his cock and you line him up with the entrance to your needy cunt and impale yourself on him. Slapping your hand over his mouth to block out the sound of his gasping moan, you let your own sounds ring out in the little pod. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You hiss, closing your eyes and you feel his fingers grip your waist again, digging in and holding you to him. “Blessed silence,” You pant. “Just shut up and let me fuck you. Don’t say a fucking word. Just let me use your cock.” 

You don’t wait for him to hum against your hand, even though you feel it coming. It’s not in Ezra’s nature to be passive. He’s more aggressive than anything, although the loss of his arm has stifled that some. Now you just use him. Taking out all of your anger and hatred for him on his cock as you bounce on it. You don’t have mercy on him, walls clenching down around him as you swivel your hips and toss your head back in pleasure. 

This is what you needed. Silence and a good cock to ride. Your pants are loud, filling your ears instead of his voice. “Fuck, you just never shut up, do you?” You complain. “Always talking, always shit talking. Telling me about the fucking channel rats you clubbed to death or talking about Cee. I don’t fucking care about any of that shit. I don’t care that you used to be able to process aurlac without any mistakes. I don’t fucking care.” 

Every time you bounce on his cock, you feel yourself getting closer. Working yourself up as you ride his cock harder and faster. Feeling him urging you one with his lone hand, his pants wetting your palm as you still cover his mouth. You don’t trust him not to ruin this by talking. 

“Kevva blessed you with this cock and I’m going to fucking use it.” You groan, opening your eyes and looking into his again. They are glazed over, mouth slack against your hand. Watching you as you fuck him. “Shiiiiit.” You hiss, feeling him twitch inside you. “You better not cum yet.” You warn, pulling your hand away to smash your lips against his once more. 

Ezra groans into your mouth, pulling you closer as you start to buck. Walls clamping down around him again and you soak him in a hot rush of your juices, cumming with a silent cry into his mouth. 

Groaning, he stiffens under you, thrusting up and burying his cock deeper than you had managed to get him before, the hot waves of his seed painting your insides and making you whine in pleasure. The frustration and anger of the day slowly melting away as you lick into his mouth and swallow the small whimpers his makes. 

“Don’t say anything.” You warn, pulling away and pushing a finger to his lips as he smirks slightly. “Eat your food and go to fucking sleep.” Pulling off of his cock with a soft plop and a dribble of cum leaking out of your cunt. Feeling slightly better about lasting another day being stuck on this moon with him. 

You might fucking hate Ezra, but you love to hate fuck him. 

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

".... Y/n?" You heard a voice on the other end of the phone. A familiar voice. It's three in the morning and instead of sleeping you're sitting and watching a movie. You grab the TV remote to turn down the background noise, because the voice is surprisingly quiet. "... I need your help."

∆∆∆

The fact is, the only reason you have a job supporting the jujutsu sorcerers is because your uncle is a Yaga. Your cursed energy is so small it's practically nonexistent. Sometimes you see curses, sometimes you don't. However, in situations where there aren't enough people in the field, you're sprinkled in in a support role... More like support for support. It never bothered you though. Your talent for being a person with curse energy is that you are almost normal. Almost sometimes makes a big difference.

But hey! Work is work and as long as they pay there's nothing to complain about. So when you were running through the streets of Tokyo in the middle of the night to the apartment of none other than Gojo Satoru, it didn't even cross your mind what was going on.

He's probably craving something sweet again, or come up with some stupid idea like - "So if you put more capsules into the washing machine, won't the wash be done faster? Damn. Okay, clean up this mess y/n." Or "I'm out of hair gel, I'm not leaving the house like this! Go y/n and buy me some." - being an errand dog defines your position more. Especially since one of the weakest of the weak in the world of the strong, you are a subordinate of none other than the strongest sorcerer. The Chosen One.

Meh... Could be worse. Right?

Right?

∆∆∆

You punched in the code to Gojo's apartment, breathing heavily. Fuck, why is Ijichi always the driver? Oh yeah, you failed your driving test.

"Gojo? What is it this time?" You asked with a slight note of irritation in your voice. You turned on the light in the living room, looking around the room for any sign of Satoru. With his height you usually had no problem finding him. But this time, all you were greeted with was a dark room. As if no one was here. "Gojo? If this is some kind of stupid joke..."

"Believe me, I would like to..." You heard his voice, strangely quiet but not weak. However, when you turned in the direction it came from, no one was there. "Listen... First, promise me that what you see will stay between us." Gojo continued talking, or rather his voice came from the side of the table in the living room.

"Um... Ok?"

"Secondly... swear you won't laugh."

"Did your students play some stupid prank on you? Did they shave you bald?"

"Promise me, fuck."

"ok ok I promise..." You slowly approaches the table, his voice getting clearer, but you still can't see him.

"Third... Fuck... Help me." His voice was a mix of anger, shame, and humiliation. You never thought you'd ever get to hear it. Ever.

"Okay Gojo... I'll help you, but where are you?"

After he told you to turn on the light and go to the table, you still didn't see him. Finally you heard some rustling and Gojo climbed onto the table top. Yes, he climbed it.

"you won't believe what happened to me..." He said, trying his best to protect his dignity by masking it with an amused tone of voice.

And so, before you on the night table stood the strongest sorcerer of modern times. The Chosen One. Except... He's the size of a doll now, with cat ears and a tail.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Next:

[poisonlove]

A cappuccino, please | j.o

parte 1 part 2

"Good morning!" I turn to the sound of the voice and smile as I see Jenna Ortega gracefully entering the café.

It had been about a month since our last encounter, and I almost thought I wouldn't see her again. Yet, there she was in front of me, dazzling: a black skirt elegantly draping, a white sweatshirt, and high heels that added a sophisticated touch.

"Hey..." I manage to say, a spontaneous smile on my lips as I instinctively try to lean on the broom, almost stumbling in the attempt. My legs seem to have a mind of their own, and I wobble forward, clutching the broom as if it were my only support.

My cheeks turn red as I look at Jenna. She has her hands in front of her mouth, obviously concerned about my sudden clumsiness.

"Are you okay?" Jenna asks with a small smile, approaching to see if I'm in one piece.

"Yes, yes... just lost my balance," I confess, embarrassed, trying to downplay the situation.

"Who knows why?" Maria chimes in, carrying a tray of pastries to place in the display.

"Maria!" I exclaim, my voice high-pitched, leaning the broom against the wall.

Jenna chuckles softly and comes closer. Her presence is comforting, and her smile makes me feel more at ease despite the spectacle I just made.

I widen my eyes in surprise as I feel Jenna's arms enveloping me in a warm hug. Slowly, I let myself melt into that contact, placing my hands gently on her hips. I rest my head in the curve of her neck, allowing myself to breathe in the inviting scent of her perfume. Everything seems to pause for a moment as I let myself be swayed by that feeling of closeness and intimacy.

My eyes shift to the café entrance, astonished to see an imposing man in a suit looking at us sternly, wearing sunglasses and an earpiece. His presence is decidedly intimidating.

Jenna tightens her hold around me, a sigh grazing my neck.

"Umm... who is that?" I instinctively ask, watching the bodyguard intently. The man takes a step forward, and fear makes me open my eyes wide.

"Oh... he's Tom," Jenna replies, rolling her eyes slightly. "Last time I went out alone... and my agent didn't like it," she confesses reluctantly.

"Now he'll come with me wherever," she concludes, sighing.

"Exactly, Miss Ortega," interjects the man in a monotone voice. "I hate it when he does," Jenna mutters under her breath, and I can't help but laugh at the expression on her face.

"In any case... what would you like?" I ask Jenna, glancing at Tom.

I turn to Jenna and notice her gaze on my lips. I raise an eyebrow in curiosity, and she lowers her gaze, blushing slightly.

"Oh... a cappuccino, please" she murmurs shyly, tilting her head to hide the blush on her cheeks.

"It'll be ready right away," I respond with a friendly smile, raising my hand to quickly touch her nose, making her laugh.

I walk to the counter, and Jenna follows me with quick steps.

"Tom... would you like something?" Jenna asks, leaning her arms on the counter.

"A coffee, miss," he replies seriously.

Tom, the bodyguard, positions himself discreetly at a certain distance but in a position that allows him to watch over us.

I take the cappuccino cup, the milk frother, and an espresso capsule.

"Does he move sometimes?" I whisper to Jenna, watching the bodyguard.

"Yes..." Jenna responds with a complicit smile, "WHEREVER I go," she exclaims loudly, pointing out the last part.

"We've discussed this, Miss Ortega," Tom replies professionally. I smile as I watch Jenna childishly repeat her bodyguard's words, making a funny face.

I grab the espresso and prepare the second capsule for Tom's coffee.

"You've been busy lately, haven't you?" I ask curiously, pouring a third of the coffee into the cup.

I take the milk jug and slowly pour its contents into the cup, creating a simple design.

"You can't imagine... the exhausting interviews and preparations for the new season are killing us," she exclaims in exasperation.

I offer Jenna the cappuccino.

"Thank you," Jenna exclaims with a smile. "I had to study the script for weeks... getting very little sleep," she murmurs, stirring the cappuccino with a spoon.

"Do you have brown sugar?" she asks, and I offer her the basket   with all the types of sugar.

"Well... but I think you've done great," I confess, grabbing Tom's espresso cup, "and I know you're very professional, truly amazing," I look at Tom and convey through my gaze that he should come get the coffee.

He remains still in his place.

Jenna rolls her eyes, moving her lips away from the cup, "Tom, come get the coffee," she murmurs, practically ordering Jenna.

"Yes, Miss," Tom nods and approaches, drinking the coffee in one gulp.

Jenna takes the cappuccino again, looking at me through her long lashes.

"Y/n!" Maria's voice from the kitchen sounds like a command, and, giving a quick glance to Jenna, I silently apologize to go see what my boss needed.

"Take these and put them in the display," she gently asks.

Without much thought, I grab the tray and return to the counter. I open the display and place the freshly baked pastries.

"They look delicious," Jenna murmurs, finishing her cappuccino.

I hold back a smile as I see the cappuccino foam on her lips.

"You have something..." I point to my face, and Jenna furrows her brow in confusion.

"Where?" Jenna sticks her tongue out and runs it over her lower lip.

"Not here..." I lean shyly towards her and put my finger on her lips. Jenna looks at me attentively as I collect the foam with my index finger.

"Miss..." Tom murmurs seriously, approaching to see what was going on.

"I'm fine, Tom. You can go back to your place," Jenna murmurs, looking at me with curious eyes.

"My apologies if I'm interfering so directly," says Tom, apologizing.

"No problem, Tom. I know you're doing your job to make sure I'm safe," Jenna responds, reassuring him.

"Ah! By the way..." Jenna turns completely towards me, rests her face in her hands and looks at me with a charming smile. "You must come with me," she murmurs softly, and I laugh lightly in disbelief.

"When? Where?" I ask curiously.

"Now... come with me, that's enough," she murmurs sweetly, tilting her head to the side. I smile at her tenderness.

"Miss... I'm not sure if Edward will..." Tom begins seriously, expressing his opinion.

"Edward won't say anything," Jenna murmurs, annoyed. "Alright, miss," Tom responds politely.

"Edward?" I ask and she rolls her eyes annoyed. "He's my agent," she murmurs weakly.

"In any case," Jenna slightly bites her lower lip with malice and goes around the counter, coming towards me. "You're coming with me," she exclaims seriously, taking my wrist to drag me with her.

I feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and an involuntary smile spreads across my lips.

"Jen, I'm not sure if I can... I'm working," I mumble absentmindedly, embarrassed.

"Mmmh..." Jenna murmurs, thoughtful.

"Actually..." I turn towards the sound of the voice and see Maria wiping her hands with a cloth. "In 10 minutes, my niece will arrive... she can help me cover your shift," my boss exclaims with a half-smile.

I look at Maria with concern.

"Are you sure?" I ask timidly, and Maria nods. "You heard her. Now come with me," Jenna murmurs, making a radiant smile.

"Oh, Maria," Jenna turns to her and smiles, "thanks for the service, I left the tip on the table," she exclaims.

"Thank you, miss," Maria responds.

Tom opens the store's door, and we step out, with him walking behind us. I could feel his presence at my back, and I glimpse him placing his hand on Jenna's shoulder.

Jenna tightens her grip on my hand.

"Oh shit..." Jenna exclaims upon noticing the paparazzi near the café.

With adrenaline rushing through our veins, we walk towards the SUV parked across the street, shielding our faces from the numerous camera flashes.

Tom stands in front of us and clears a path through the crowd.

"Is she your new girlfriend?" a paparazzo asks curiously. "Is she part of the cast?" another asks.

I was completely confused.

Jenna lowers her head and shields her eyes with her free hand, avoiding the questions and quickly getting into the vehicle.

A hand rests on my shoulder. "By any chance, do you know if Jen..." a journalist begins, but I stop hearing the question when the mentioned girl literally drags me into the car, closing the door.

Silence envelops us.

"I'm sorry... you know... they were untimely questions," murmurs Jenna, and I sigh.

"It's okay," I confess, and Jenna rests her head on my shoulder, playing with our intertwined fingers.

My heart is racing.

The sound of a closing door catches my attention. "Eric... start it up," says Tom, buckling his seatbelt.

Jenna relaxes and looks at me through her long lashes. Her gaze is intense yet tender at the same time. "I'm sorry for the sudden commotion," Jenna repeats, trying to push away the annoyance caused by the paparazzi.

"You don't have to apologize," I confess, gently squeezing her hand. "I understand it's part of your life." She smiles, but I can sense a shadow of sadness in her eyes.

Perhaps she's exhausted from the constant media attention and the lack of privacy.

"Anyway... where are we going?" I ask, trying to change the subject to lighten the mood.

"To introduce you to some people," Jenna murmurs softly, "and to show you the environment where I work," she whispers faintly, snuggling between my arms.

I must admit Jenna is a very affectionate friend, but obviously, I don't mind.

[forthelostones]

𝚙𝚝.𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel & ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. so sorry this was a day late! i don't really like this chapter and probably will come back and edit to be a little better. but enjoyx

(no y/n)

wc: 3k

The midterm season ended with many restless nights with Abby. She was satisfied with the amount of time you two were spending together but found it incredibly irritating it was only because of school. She wanted you to be hanging out with her because it was her. She remembered one night while you two were studying some dosage math how your face scrunched up at the problem. Your eraser nub started to become obsolete, scratching against your notebook, followed by the brush of an angry hand. She liked to see you struggle, she enjoyed those small grunts you let out as you pressed harder onto the paper, as if that would make the right answer appear. “Abby.” You groaned. 

She started to notice that she liked that too when you would say her name all frustrated but softly with a sleepy pout. She let you struggle so she could scoop in and save you from your own mental despair. 

“Look, pay attention. The order is 750 mg of Erythromycin, okay? On hand is 250 mg of Erythromycin capsules,” Abby writes the formula neatly. “Let’s do that math. You know it, I know you do.” 

She watches you press your fingers into the sides of your temples as if you could massage your brain. You begin writing out the computation. 

“Oh, so it was 3 this whole time.” You sigh. 

“Yes, you were close.” Abby smiles as she reaches out to rub your back. Even though you both were sitting here, after a four-hour study session, she thought you looked precious. 

A week later, you had fallen asleep on her shoulder while sitting on her sofa rewatching an old lecture. She analyzed your face as if it were a picture she was never to see again. Your bottom lip was glossy and hanging, eyes gently shut with your eyelashes wrinkling in the inner corners, the way your body pressed against hers; heavy and relentlessly. She could tell you felt safe in her presence and that warmed her so much that she began to sweat from anxiety. She didn’t want to wake you up, she knew you hadn’t slept properly and lived off of energy drinks the last couple of days. Your little open-mouthed snores made her smile, you were perfect in her eyes. 

She had dozed off for a bit too and noticed your head was now on the back of the couch, slightly over her shoulder. 

“Hey, hey. Come on, let me get you some sleeping stuff.” 

You blink to uncloud your vision. Embarrassed, you wipe your face and hold it in your hands watching Abby carry over blankets from her hall closet. You silently say thank you to her, not sure if she even heard you. She drags a pillow from her bed, encased in a dark green jersey material. 

“Just lay down. Please?” Abby knew you’d protest and walk back to your apartment, which made her demands even stronger. How could she tell you she wanted you in her bed right now? She couldn’t. 

You press your head against the firm yet soft surface and drag the blanket up to your neck with her standing over you. Almost admiring you.

“I’m going to go to bed too, if you need me…” Her voice trailed off.

God, this smells like her, you thought. The conditioner she uses is melted into the fiber and threads of this pillow. The piney scent of her skin has left traces on the seams and all you can do is sink into it more, imagining it was her chest. You felt the rhythm of her breathing calm you to sleep and her bolder arms tucking you into her side.

Abby lay in her bed, one pillow missing, helplessly wishing that you would waddle to her door and slip under the covers with her. But you never did.

Two weeks later, Thanksgiving break rolled around and you were due back home to visit your family. Abby was sitting on the edge of your bed watching you fold your clothes up and place them in your duffle. Nursing student's schedules were different from the rest of the university, so your break started today, on Monday. 

“You are a horrible folder.” Abby snorts. 

“Since you’re so good at professionally folding clothes show me.” 

She stood up and took one of your sweaters, facing it on the bed, tossing the sleeves over the torso portion, and folding the bottom to the collar. She stood with a stupid grin admiring her work with her hands on her hips. You nudge her in the rib cage and she shoves you back. The last month or so you two would get into these playful rumbles that ended up with Abby grabbing or pinning your wrists down under her body. 

“No, not today. Stop.” She says.

It’s obvious I’m flirting right, Abby thought. 

“Thanks for your help but I usually just do my way to everything, shirts, pants, sweaters, not my underwear though, who folds those?” 

Abby plops on the bed and raises her eyebrows as to say, Me, idiot. 

“Abby please don’t…” 

“Folded and color coordinated,” 

You couldn’t get the image of her ass in a black thong out of your mind now. 

“You have to take care of them, they’re delicate.” She shrugs. 

“I know,” you say opening your underwear drawer. “It’s just, look at them.” 

Abby was looking, she was looking hard. You’re holding up a pair of nude cheeky, lace panties out of a handful you removed from the dresser. She wondered if you had worn those the day of the house party, and how different things would be right now if she had been responsible for destroying them that night.

“Okay teach me your stupid foldy-thingy,” you say. 

Abby holds your panties like they are pure gold. She tucks the corners in and then folds the crotch to make somewhat of a roll and presents it to you after retaking her position.

“You excited to go home?” She asks.

“Of course, I’m helping cook this year, so that’s kinda fun, I guess. How about you?” 

“I was just gonna camp out here, catch up on some NCLEX stuff.” 

Abby watches your mouth fall open. 

“Abigail!” You yell, startling her. She loved the way her name sounded between your lips.

“I can’t just let you be here alone, what the fuck, let me call home and change my flight, I’m serious.” 

You reach for your phone that sitting in the center of the bed. Before you know it Abby has it in her tight grip, and tucks it behind her back. “Nope. I’ll be okay.” 

You shove your empty duffle off the bed and climb to wrestle the phone from her grip. It happens so fast but suddenly, she’s under you and your legs are wrapped around her waist. 

“Abby, give me my phone, now.” 

She knows this is playful but the way your voice dropped with such authority made her tense. Your ass was pressed against the top of her mound that was now beating. As you place your arms on either side of her head she gulps. 

“What if I don’t?” She pokes. 

You roll your eyes. “Abby I can’t let you stay her alone. Plus Ellie invited me to this thing…” 

There it was. This wasn’t about her, it was about Ellie. 

You lift up and Abby sits up with your phone in her lap, trying to hide her frustration and she wasn’t good at that. “Right.” 

“Abby, it wasn’t just because of Ellie,” you start folding to hide from her eyes. “I like spending time with you. You’re a good friend to me. I wasn’t going to stay just for her.” 

“You weren’t?” 

“Not at all. But now I want to because of you. I wouldn’t feel right going home and being around my family knowing you’re here by yourself studying NCLEX flashcards.” 

“I’m just saying, you don't have to stay.” 

“I’m not asking for your permission, Abby.” 

The following morning Abby spent all day cleaning her apartment energetically awaiting your arrival. Her hair was tied messily on top of her head, bobbing as she scrubbed the inside of her tub. Part of her was doing this to settle her jitters, although you have hung out plenty of times, it was different. You and Abby came to an agreement that you would make a meal together, and she wanted it to be perfect. After sweating the chemicals she inhaled out of her pores, she showered and washed away any worries she had. 

She undressed over five times trying to find the right outfit and brushed her hair into different styles, but nothing was satisfying her. But as soon as you knocked on the front door she fluffed it and left it down, which she rarely does. Abby decided on black chino pants, a black short-sleeved top, a gold rope chain peaking under, and small matching gold hoops.

The soft jazz music played through her apartment, bouncing off the walls that were decorated in warm light from a few lamps. There were several candles littered around the living room too. You noticed Abby put on a tinted chapstick and mascara, darkening her eyes a bit. She smiles at you without saying a word, just relishing in your beauty. As she closed the door behind you, she took an unsuspecting look at you. 

“Are you ready Chef Anderson?” You ask. 

“I am very ready, let me get you a glass of wine.” 

Your glasses clink and she watches sip on the velvety liquid which stains your lips beautifully. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, she looked radiant. 

“I got all the groceries from the list you sent me and I am ready to cook, I only have one apron though…” 

“Good, I’m just here to look pretty and sit anyway.” You add. 

She scuffs at you and laughs lightly. Abby didn’t mind cooking for you, actually she preferred it this way.

You settle on the couch, body facing the kitchen and watch her tie a blue and white pinstriped apron around her waist. Her ass in those pants was decadent, you watched her bend over to reach into the fridge and shamelessly watched her muscle fill the slacks in all the right places. Her toned arms began prepping various veggies, flexing and precisely slicing them. You walk up behind her to get a better look, body pressed against the outside of her back and arm. She smiles over her shoulder and just continues to chop with such precision as if she were a surgeon. 

“Wanna try?” She asked, lifting the knife to you. 

You set your glass on the counter and pick up the professional-grade knife that was just in her hands. You begin dicing the onions but they come out jagged compared to the cut of hers. 

“How do you—“ 

Before you could finish your sentence her hands were coming up to yours, hand around your wrist and guiding you on the proper level of pressure to use. Her hips were gently brushing your backside, forearm swooping on your back, looking over your shoulder, and whispering praises in your ear. 

Like that. Ahh Perfect. Good. Slower. 

“My sous chef.” She smiled, tilting her head at you, as she refilled your glasses. She wiped her hands on her apron and moved on to the next thing. She didn’t mind that you were watching her hands grip around the base of the knife, proctoring her every move. 

“Am I doing a good job?” She asked.

“Yes, a very good job.” 

You emptied her cabinets with the proper cutlery to set the table. Abby found herself observing how neatly you laid out the plates and napkins, it felt right. She recognized the feelings that she had for you in that moment were undeniable. It felt like she could do this forever with you. Make dinner after a long shift and sit and talk to you about any and everything, live together, and build a dream life. Once you noticed her watching and staring, she blinked to awaken herself from that fantasy.

“Ah fuck,” she muttered. 

“What’s wrong?”

“This is my cooking shirt, I’m going to go change into something cleaner.” 

She walked away hurriedly, nervous that you noticed her soiled top. She crossed her arms, peeling off her shirt, exposing the back of her red mesh bra to you. Your eyebrows lift as you wonder if she has the matching panties. She exchanged the black shirt for a white one, where the sleeves suffocated her arms and clung to her body in a seductive way. The traces of the bra were outlined in the fabric, exposing the intricate lacing on the top. 

“This looks really delicious.” You smile as Abby dishes up your food.

She grins at your compliment and serves herself ready to eat.  

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” 

You push your food around on your plate, suddenly feeling shy, and look up to her waiting for your words back. “I’m really glad I stayed. You know how to treat a girl right.” 

Abby bit the corner of her lip, you always made her lose her train of thought when you looked at her with those wide eyes. Halfway through dinner, with a few more glasses of wine, and a lot of food in, you really begin to feel a flutter in your stomach and wonder if Abby is feeling the same way too. 

“So, the whole Nora situation.” Your voice trailed.

Abby sighs. “Nothing came of it, I still never replied to that message.” 

“Why not?” 

Abby couldn’t read your face — was it jealousy, contempt, or something else. 

“Not really interested in her. I could force myself to be but it’s not really fair is it?” 

“I mean, she just wanted to sleep with you I’m sure.” You sip. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I just know.”

“From personal experience?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Anderson.” 

Abby stood over the sink wiping down the countertop after washing the dishes, and you did the same to the dining room table. “All done Chef.” You smile, tossing the towel at her. You walk towards her with a half-lidded, tipsy look and she just shoves you away playfully.

“Come dance with me Anderson.” 

“What? No.” She chuckles apprehensively.

She dries her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder and strolls over to you. You roll your hips to the music and turn around slowly, so she can get a glimpse of you. Her eyes travel up and down your body, appreciating the view. 

“C’mon Abby, show me how you showed Mel.” You poke. 

She doesn’t hesitate to drape your arms over her shoulders and lace her fingers behind your back. You glance down to her cherry mouth and back to her eyes. Music was playing but you couldn’t hear it, she trapped you, and there was no going back. 

“I’m not the best dancer you know.” She says. 

“Well, I can see that.” 

You look at her body, stiff as a board. You remove your arms and switch positions with her, bringing her arms over your shoulders and holding her waist. Abby was surprised to see you take the initiative. She laughed at how large her arms were in comparison to yours, but she noticed your grip was strong on her hips. 

“I like when you guide me.” She whispered. 

“You do?” 

“A lot.” 

“I tend to prefer to take the lead,” You smirk. 

Abby loses her footing as you push her back to fall into a box step. She becomes flustered trying to find the rhythm in the music, watching your feet, attempting to emulate your pattern. 

“Eyes up.” You say, lifting her chin. 

Abby fell into the steps, her eyes concentrating on you. She saw her deepest desire play out in her mind, which was kissing you, and there was nothing stopping her now. She also didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“I got it.” She smiled. 

“See, now you can share this with whomever.” You say, pulling away. 

Abby scratched her neck. “What if I only want to share it with you?” 

Her words ring loudly in your ears, the combination of her touch and the wine was making everything sweeter. She stepped forward, wrapping her hand around the back of your neck, and pressed her lips against yours. The bitter grape taste swirled in your mouth as her smooth mouth found yours. You rest your hands on her waist, thumbs perched under her t-shirt, massaging her skin. 

Abby was embarrassed at how wet she became from just a simple kiss. Your fingers on her were cold but it was the warmest touch she ever received. Neither of you pulled away until you were fighting for air. It was the first time in Abby’s life that she made the first move on a woman she had an interest in. She grinned proudly after examining your sweet face.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to do that.” She said. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you glide your hands over the curve of her ass.

Abby’s stomach dropped through the floor as you gently toyed with her. She watched the ends of your grin curl, noticing how sensitive you made her. You lean in again, hovering in front of her lips. 

“You wanna do it again?” You tease. 

“I do.” She mumbles. 

You ghost your lips onto hers, barely touching, not even a peck. She huffs in frustration and pushes herself in closer, to which you pull away. She rolls her eyes and tries again, and you lean away. Finally, she grabs your face and doesn’t hold back. Your cheeks are crushed in her palms, her tongue is desperate in your mouth and searching for yours. Abby’s breathing heavily and walking you backward into the nearest wall. Without breaking contact, she grabs your wrists and puts them above your head. Her lips wrap around your tongue and she starts sucking without warning. Her thigh comes in between your legs, practically lifting you up the wall, and you gasp at the sensation. 

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Twenty One: It's Over SS: 1 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 4.1K Content Warnings: Abduction, Talks of murder, talks of keeping someone imprisoned Previous Next Masterlist

Hayun’s eyes flutter open, and she groans, her head throbbing as she pushes herself up. The room is dark, but there’s just enough light to make out the shape of a bed, a small desk, and old posters peeling off concrete walls. Her heart drops when she realizes where she is—Jisung’s grandfather’s bunker, the one they’d used as kids to get high and hide out when the world felt too heavy.

She glances around, her breath catching as memories flood back. The rough, cold walls. The creaky bed. They’d practically lived down here on long summer nights, laughing and pretending they had no responsibilities, no broken parts weighing them down. But that was years ago. Now, it feels eerie, like a time capsule gone wrong.

A quiet voice breaks the silence. "You’re awake."

Hayun jerks her head up, her stomach lurching as a man steps forward into the faint light. She blinks, her eyes adjusting, and her throat tightens as she recognizes him.

"Mr. Han?" Her voice cracks, disbelief laced with dread.

Jisung and Lia’s father, Han Minsun, looks back at her with an odd expression, a mixture of something almost like remorse and something darker. "You always were a bright girl, Hayun," he says softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. "Smart enough to get yourself into quite a mess."

Hayun swallows hard, trying to steady herself. "You- you took me off the street?" Her voice is shaking now, incredulous and angry. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Minsun sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as if he’s burdened by some great weight. "I saw the envelope you sent Lia, the one with all that supposed proof of Yuna’s death." He pauses, his gaze piercing. "Recognized that neat little handwriting of yours right away. Clever, signing it with ‘XOXO, Yuna.’”

Hayun stiffens, her stomach churning. "You recognized my handwriting? What, did you go snooping after that?"

Minsun chuckles, but there’s no warmth in it. “Not exactly. I went to the local chapel. Used to meet Yuna there, as you already know.” His eyes flash with something unsettling like he’s reliving an old memory. “Imagine my surprise when that idiot night priest starts talking about a girl dressed as a- what did he say?” He pauses, feigning a thoughtful expression before his eyes glint with distaste. “Ah, right. ‘Slutty nun.’ And with three friends who made him pick me out like some criminal.”

Hayun feels her fists clench, anger bubbling up despite the fear knotting in her stomach. "So you know, then. You know Jisung found out. He knows about you and Yuna. Knows you were fucking your own student."

Minsun’s face tightens, but he nods, barely flinching. "Yes, he knows. But it’s you who knows everything. You’re the only one who knows that I killed her." He steps closer, his voice dropping to a dark whisper. "And that I killed Lee Chaeryeong."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, her mind spinning. "What? You- You didn’t kill Yuna." She’s stumbling over her words, caught between anger and confusion. "She was alive after you pushed her. I know who killed her, and it wasn’t you-"

Minsun’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, he looks genuinely surprised. "Oh, I know. But she must’ve wandered off, got lost in the woods, something like that. She didn’t make it home."

"No," Hayun says, shaking her head as she processes his confession. "She was alive after that. I know who really killed her." Her voice catches as another piece clicks into place. "Wait, did you just say you killed Chaeryeong?"

Minsun’s gaze sharpens. "You didn’t know?" His brows knit together, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face. "I thought you knew everything." He chuckles, low and humourless. "I was planning on killing you because I thought you knew that, and now, well, now I have to kill you because you do know."

The terror spikes in her chest, but she tries to keep her voice steady. "What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t have to kill me-"

Minsun’s expression shifts again, and he starts pacing, muttering to himself in an unsettling, almost detached way. "No, no, I don’t have to kill you, do I? You haven’t really done anything wrong. It’s just complicated, isn’t it?" His voice drops, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "Yes, that’s it. I’ll keep you here. Yes, that way, you won’t tell anyone, and I don’t have to do anything drastic. Yes, I’ll just keep you here."

Hayun’s mind races as Minsun’s confession settles like a stone in her stomach. "Why did you kill Chaeryeong?"

Minsun looks at her, almost bored by the question. “If my affair with Yuna ever got out, I’d have been the prime suspect. Chaeryeong was smart enough to figure that out. She confronted me, kept digging her nose in, asking questions she shouldn’t have. I couldn’t let her ruin everything.” His voice shifts to a matter-of-fact tone, his words chillingly casual. “So I drugged her. Forced her to write the note, made it look like she was coming clean on her ‘guilt.’ Then I staged her suicide.”

Hayun blinks, unable to reconcile the man she’d known most of her life with the monster standing before her. She stares at him, her stomach twisting with horror, but she can’t look away.

Minsun shakes his head as if regretting a small inconvenience, oblivious to the disgust seething in her silence. “I had to do it, Hayun,” he says, almost pleading as if she would somehow understand. “I had children to look after, a family name to uphold. If I went to prison, Jisung and Lia would be left alone, and I couldn’t let that happen. They would’ve been lost.”

He sighs, eyes softening. "But I can’t kill you. I’ve known you since you were that tiny little thing in kindergarten with Jisung." He chuckles, almost fondly, as though she hasn’t just heard him confess to murder. “No, I can’t do that to you. So you’ll stay here until I figure out how to fake your disappearance.”

Hayun’s pulse pounds in her ears, each beat a surge of pure, unfiltered fear. "What? No, you can’t keep me down here!" She steps back, her voice a mixture of panic and anger. “You’re insane if you think I’ll just stay here and play along!”

Minsun steps closer, his face calm, an unsettlingly kind smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t worry, Hayun. I’ll look after you. Just like I always have.”

Every step forward he takes, she matches with a step back, her eyes scanning the room, desperate for something, anything, she can use to defend herself.

“Mr. Han-” she begins, her voice faltering as he moves in, a cold confidence gleaming in his eyes.

“Oh, what happened to ‘Uncle Minsun’?” he asks, his voice soft and full of twisted nostalgia. “That’s what you used to call me.” He pauses, a mocking glint in his eyes. “It felt warmer, more familiar.”

Hayun’s heart races, her feet sliding backward until her heel hits the edge of the old metal table. She glances down for the briefest moment, her hand brushing the cold edge of a rusty wrench left forgotten on the table from long ago. She wraps her fingers around it, pulling it behind her as Minsun steps closer, his posture calm, confident, but something far darker lying underneath.

“Uncle Minsun-”

Hayun tightens her grip on the wrench, feeling its cold weight in her hand. Without another thought, she swings it hard, the metal cracking against Minsun’s face with a sickening thud. He stumbles back, a strangled yell tearing from his throat as blood gushes from a fresh wound on his brow.

“Fuck!” he screams, clutching his bleeding forehead, eyes wide with shock and rage. But Hayun doesn’t waste a second watching him recover. She bolts toward the ladder, scrambling up the rungs with a frantic speed she didn’t know she possessed. Her hands shake, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she pushes against the heavy lid at the top of the bunker, finally shoving it open.

She barely hauls herself out before the sounds of Minsun’s ragged breaths and footsteps echo up the ladder, each one faster and louder than the last. She stumbles as she clears the hatch, barely able to catch her balance as her feet hit the ground above. She takes off running across the field, adrenaline fueling each step as her sneakers dig into the muddy earth.

“Hayun!” Minsun’s voice cuts through the night air, raw and desperate, the sound filled with a twisted frustration. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

But she doesn’t look back; she doesn’t even consider it. She pushes forward, her breath tearing from her in sharp, panicked gasps, her lungs burning with each inhale. The field stretches out in front of her like an endless expanse, the dim light from the farmhouse a distant beacon guiding her toward some semblance of safety.

“Stop running!” Minsun calls, his voice closer than she wants it to be, his footsteps heavy as he barrels after her. The absurdity of his words nearly makes her laugh, but fear tightens its grip around her chest, strangling any response she might have had.

All she can do is keep running, eyes fixed on the farmhouse ahead, the faint outline of the main road just beyond. Her legs ache, and every muscle screams in protest, but she refuses to slow down. The farmhouse is close. So close she can almost feel the rough wood of the door under her fingers, the promise of escape just steps away.

“Hayun!” Minsun’s voice cracks, and she risks a glance over her shoulder, just a split second to gauge the distance. He’s still chasing her, blood streaking down his face, his hand pressed against his head to stem the flow. His expression is a twisted mask of anger and desperation, his eyes wild as he tries to keep up with her sprint across the field.

Minho and Chan park the cars, gravel crunching beneath the tyres as everyone piles out, their faces tense and unreadable in the afternoon light. The farmhouse looms in the distance, worn and familiar, but today it feels darker like the place is harbouring secrets none of them are ready to face.

Jisung points across the fields, his voice barely steady. “Lia would’ve taken her to the bunker. It’s out there, behind the farmhouse. My grandpa, he was a total tinfoil hat man, thought World War Three was around the corner every time he heard a car coming down the road.”

The group moves in tight formation, skirting the farmhouse as they follow Jisung’s lead. Minho spots something glinting in the grass and bends down, fingers closing around a fake pearl-encrusted hair clip, smudged with dirt. His jaw tightens.

“This is Hayun’s.” The words are ground out through clenched teeth, each syllable dripping with rage. He turns the clip over in his fingers as if he can wring answers from it.

A sudden cry of pain echoes from somewhere ahead, slicing through the air and freezing everyone in their tracks. Without a word, they break into a sprint. Seungmin gestures frantically, “There! Look—”

Up ahead, they see Minsun, blood streaked across his face, dragging Hayun by her legs across the field. Her dress is torn, caked in dirt, and her hands claw desperately at the grass, leaving deep, frenzied grooves in the earth.

“Let me go, you murderer!” Hayun’s voice is hoarse, shaking with fury and terror. “You killed an innocent girl!”

Minsun’s reply is cold, dismissive. “Lee Chaeryeong was not innocent.”

Minho skids to a halt, his breath catching as the words sink in. The admission lands like a punch, his vision tunneling as he stares, unable to fully process the horror unfolding in front of him.

Jisung staggers back, eyes wide with shock, his face going pale. “No… no…” His stomach heaves, and he doubles over, retching into the grass as Hyunjin moves to his side, one hand on his back, holding him steady even as Jisung’s world shatters.

The rest of them charge forward. Felix reaches Minsun first, fury blazing in his eyes as he closes the distance. Jeongin glances at Minho, voice tight with restraint. “Let Felix handle it. Dude’s got twelve years of Taekwondo and a hell of a lot of pent-up rage.”

Minho doesn’t budge, fists clenched as he glares at Minsun. “That piece of shit killed my sister.”

Jeongin grabs his shoulder, grounding him. “Killing him won’t bring her back, Minho. It’ll just get you locked up right alongside him.”

As Minsun drags Hayun closer to the bunker’s entrance, Felix intercepts, wrenching Minsun’s grip off her and shoving him backward. Hayun scrambles away, pulling herself to her feet, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Felix’s fury is volcanic as he swings a fist, connecting squarely with Minsun’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Jisung collapses back into the grass, shaking with sobs as he watches the scene unfold, the betrayal ripping him apart. He digs his fists into the dirt, trembling uncontrollably, and Hyunjin crouches down, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe, Ji,” Hyunjin murmurs softly, trying to calm him. “We’re here. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Jisung’s voice is raw, broken. “My dad… he… my family... they’re all monsters. How could they—how could he—” He chokes on his words, burying his face in his hands as he crumbles under the weight of the truth.

Meanwhile, Chan crouches beside Hayun, assessing the scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs. She winces as he tilts her head to the side, examining a cut near her cheekbone, worry creasing his brow.

“You alright?” he asks, voice gentle but tinged with anger.

Hayun’s voice is a shaky whisper. “I… I think so.”

Seungmin quickly shrugs off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders to cover her torn dress. She pulls it close, clutching the fabric as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

Felix has Minsun pinned to the ground now, his fists bruised and knuckles raw, as he holds Minsun down with a strength fueled by rage. Minho steps forward, the barely contained fury in his voice cutting through the chaos. “Why did you kill my sister?”

Minsun’s face is streaked with blood and sweat as he looks up, desperation in his eyes. “I… I had to! I thought I’d killed Yuna, but Hayun. She said I didn’t. I panicked.” He looks over at Jisung, a sick, desperate look in his eyes. “But I wasn’t going to hurt Hayun! I was just going to keep her there, in the bunker, keep her quiet.”

Jisung pulls himself to his feet, leaning on Hyunjin for support as he looks down at his father with disgust and disbelief. The betrayal is etched deeply into every line of his face, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy.

“I’m sorry!” Minsun’s voice breaks, pleading. “I’m sorry!”

Felix sneers down at him, pressing his knee harder into Minsun’s back. “Save it for the police. You and Lia can have a nice long chat from opposite sides of the penitentiary.”

Minsun’s eyes widen with fresh horror. “Lia… Lia’s going to prison?”

Jisung steps forward, wiping the tears from his face as he glares down at his father, voice trembling with anger. “Yes. She helped a rapist, and you murdered an innocent woman. You’re both going to pay for everything you did.”

Minsun stares up at him, broken and bloodied, the weight of his crimes finally pressing down on him like a death sentence. He looks between Jisung, Hyunjin, and Minho, his face twisted with desperation and terror as the reality sinks in.

Jisung stumbles over to Hayun, his face pale and blotched, and then, as if his legs just give out, he drops to his knees in front of her, broken and lost. His eyes are red-rimmed, tears already streaming down his face as he reaches for her hand, clutching it tightly as if she’s his lifeline.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Yunnie,” he chokes out, voice thick with guilt and pain. “My family—they’ve… they’ve done so much to hurt you. Lia… Mingi… and now… now my dad…” His voice cracks, and he bows his head, letting his forehead rest on her hand as the words tumble out of him, shattered and raw. “I swear, I… I never wanted this for you. I never thought…”

Hayun looks down at him, her own face blank, as though she’s watching this scene unfold from somewhere far away. Slowly, she places her hand on the top of his head, her touch gentle, almost as if trying to soothe him. Her eyes remain distant, her thumb barely brushing against his hair in a quiet comfort that seems automatic rather than intentional.

Changbin approaches cautiously, glancing over at the others. “Uh… is she okay?”

Jeongin shoots him a look, eyebrows furrowing in exasperation. “She was just abducted by Jisung’s father, you idiot! Of course she’s not okay, pabo!”

At that, Minho’s gaze snaps away from Minsun. He turns to look at Hayun, his expression softening when he sees her vacant stare, as though she’s been hollowed out by everything that’s just happened. With a resolve that is almost feral, he steps away from Minsun and heads over to her, gently prying her hand off Jisung’s head and pulling her away.

Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin gather around Jisung, grounding him as he breaks down, his friends becoming a wall between him and the man who tore their lives apart. Meanwhile, Minho wraps his arms around Hayun, leading her to a quieter part of the field, his hand steady on her shoulder.

Once they’re alone, he tilts her face up to his, pressing his forehead against hers, eyes closed as he tries to bring her back to the moment, back to him. “Come back to your mind now, princess,” he whispers softly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. “Back to reality, okay? Come back to me”

Hayun’s eyes close, and a single tear slips down her cheek. Minho catches it with his thumb, brushing it away gently, his own face etched with worry. She takes a shaky breath, and he holds her a little closer.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, with a soft humor that’s meant to comfort, “I’ve never met a girl who gives me as many damn coronaries as you.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips, and he nods, catching the flicker of life that returns to her eyes. “There she is,” he murmurs, relief coloring his tone. “I’ve got you, princess.”

Hayun nods slightly, leaning into him, her voice barely above a whisper. “He didn’t hurt me,” she says, almost as if trying to convince herself. “I’m okay.”

Minho nods, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Okay,” he says simply, accepting her words without question. She takes a steadying breath, and her gaze flicks over his shoulder toward Jisung, still crumpled on the ground.

“Jisung…” Her voice is quiet, filled with worry, but Minho cuts her off, his tone gentle but firm.

“No, sweetheart. Right now, you need to focus on yourself,” he says, guiding her face back to him, making sure she’s looking into his eyes. “You don’t have to hold everyone else together. Not today. Just focus on you, okay?”

She bites her lip, a hint of a nod, and Minho pulls her into his arms, holding her close, feeling her start to let go just a little, her weight leaning into him. The world around them might be chaotic, but for a moment, it’s just the two of them, breathing in sync, drawing strength from each other’s presence.

The police arrive at the farmhouse, a swarm of uniforms and flashing lights, and soon they’re guiding everyone one by one to take statements. Minsun is handcuffed, his face a mix of exhaustion and resignation, and as he’s led toward the squad car, a detective approaches Minho and Hayun.

“We’ll investigate Mr. Han’s confession regarding Chaeryeong’s murder,” the detective says, voice flat but tinged with something akin to grim satisfaction. “We’ll be in touch once we’ve gone through everything.”

Minho nods, though his jaw is tight, and his eyes don’t leave Minsun as he’s shoved into the police car. There’s a collective exhale from the group, relief mixed with disbelief at what they’d just witnessed.

Once the police have finished taking statements and the cars start pulling away, Hayun clears her throat, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s somewhere we need to go,” she says, her voice steady but laced with a hint of mystery.

They all look at her, puzzled, but they pile into the cars, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Minho starts his car, glancing at her in the passenger seat as she stares straight ahead, her eyes set with determination.

“Where to?” he asks, though he seems to already sense her answer.

“Mingi’s apartment,” Hayun replies, her lips curving into a smirk that surprises him. There’s something new in her expression—calculated, even a little wicked.

In the backseat, Felix glances up, raising a brow. “Wait, why are we going to Mingi’s place?” His voice is curious but cautious.

“You’ll see.”

Minho exchanges a quick glance with her as he turns the ignition, his eyes catching the glint of something fierce in hers. He seems to understand, even without her saying a word, and with a sharp nod, he pulls out of the gravel driveway, followed closely by Chan’s car behind them.

The drive is tense, the weight of what’s just happened pressing down on all of them. Felix shifts in his seat, looking back and forth between Minho and Hayun. “I feel like I’m missing something big here,” he mutters, tapping his fingers nervously against his knee.

“Just wait,” Hayun says, her tone amused yet serious. She turns to look out the window, her fingers drumming rhythmically on her thigh.

As they stand outside Mingi’s apartment, everyone’s eyes are fixed on the doorway, watching as officers escort him out in cuffs. The entire group is silent, tension crackling in the air, as Mingi’s eyes search the gathered faces. His gaze lands on Hayun, her dirt-streaked skin and the cut on her cheek, with Minho, Jisung, and the rest of their friends standing protectively around her like a wall. A flash of recognition crosses Mingi's face, his features twisting into a sneer as he struggles against the officer’s hold.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Jang Hayun!” he yells, his voice rough and unhinged. “Mark my fucking words! I know you framed me for Yuna’s murder, you conniving bitch!”

Hayun’s face remains impassive, but her fingers tighten ever so slightly at her sides. Minho stands close, his body language daring Mingi to make another move, but it’s the officer who gives Mingi a hard shove forward.

“Keep moving,” the officer snaps, voice cold with authority. “You’re not just facing a murder charge, so watch it, you disgusting rapist.”

Mingi’s sneer fades, replaced by a flare of fear, as he’s forced toward the police car. His eyes keep darting back to Hayun, still held between fury and something darker.

Hayun’s eyes drift over to Ryujin and Yeji, who are leaning against the opposite wall, watching the scene from a distance with a kind of detached amusement. Ryujin, cigarette in hand, raises it in a lazy toast toward Hayun, her lips curling into a smirk, while Yeji winks, expression smugly satisfied. There’s no guilt in their eyes. Just a dark, shared triumph.

Minho follows her gaze, watching the silent exchange, noting the look on Hayun’s face as she regards Ryujin and Yeji. He glances back at Mingi being shoved into the squad car and back to Hayun but says nothing, simply resting a hand on her shoulder.

The car door slams, muffling Mingi’s threats, and the crowd begins to thin. Jisung shakes his head, a mix of disbelief and shock flickering across his face. “I can’t believe he killed Yuna,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “If he’s claiming he’s been framed, that means they found evidence that he actually did it, right?”

Chan nods slowly, eyes trained on the departing police car. “I assume so, I mean the officer said he's facing a murder charge, they can't slap that on someone without proof, solid proof"

Felix exhales, his jaw set as he watches the car pull away. “Good fucking riddance.”

Minho’s gaze lands on Hayun, who’s staring at the scene with an unreadable expression, her face blank, as if every ounce of emotion has been sealed behind an invisible wall. He shifts his gaze between her, then Ryujin and Yeji, catching the subtle satisfaction on their faces. He’s sharp enough to connect the dots, but he doesn’t voice his suspicions. Instead, he tightens his hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture of reassurance.

Hayun’s eyes don’t leave the police car, even as it rounds the corner and vanishes from sight. Her voice, quiet and steady, finally breaks the silence. “It’s over.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell

@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx

[bunnyywritings]

got my period this morning and it hurts so much, my entire body is like shaking because of these stupid cramps so i wrote up some period comfort with my favorite gentle giant mezo shoji

no warnings really, this is like college!au UA so… yeah, could be read as afab!reader, (y/n) used once?, shoji calls reader: honey, sweetheart, lovely, my love, i also think i mention the term “lady problems” and didn’t notice until now, that’s my bad, this is for ANYBODY who experiences a menstrual cycle

mezo shoji x afab!reader

Waking up to a blaring alarm was never pleasant, it was even less ideal when you body was throbbing in pain. As you shut it off and buried your face in your pillow, a suspicious slick feeling between your thighs made your stomach churn.

Reaching below the covers and feeling the damp fabric of your shorts was the final nail in the coffin. “Dammit…” you whined, slowly hauling yourself out of bed.

Luckily your sheets had been spared but you couldn’t say the same about your underwear.

So, you trudged to your drawer and picked out what you had dubbed your “period undies”, a comfortable pair that wouldn’t squeeze at your bloated tummy and covered in various stains that you had never successfully gotten rid of, a pair of comfortable sweats, and a baggy pullover you had stolen from Shoji.

On your way to the shared bathrooms, you texted Momo to ask her if she had any pads she could bring you, relieved when she promptly responded she’d bring you one asap.

So as you used the bathroom and cleaned yourself off, you wrapped your towel around your waist and met her outside the shower area.

“You are a lifesaver Mo…” You grinned, sheepishly taking the pad from her fingers.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” She scoffed a laugh. “Would you like me to make you some tea for after your shower?”

Your eyes watered, lips pulling down in a soft pout. “Yes please…”

“Okay.” She smiled, squeezing your hand before giving you your privacy.

After showering and changing, you finally made it back to your room and lo and behold, there was a mug of hot tea sitting on your desk and two midol capsules beside it.

You could cry.

Instead, you cranked the AC unit in your room, hoping Aizawa wouldn’t notice, and crawled into bed.

Scrolling through tiktok and sipping on your tea before being lulled into a nap.

Shoji was disappointed that he hadn’t seen you at breakfast but he just brushed it off as you having slept in.

But as the hours ticked by and the clock struck 12pm, he began to grow a little worried.

“Hey, Mina?”

The pinkette looked up from her switch and smiled up at Shoji. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen (Y/n), by chance?”

“Hmm no, I actually haven’t seen ‘em all morning. Sorry Shoji.”

“That’s alright, thanks.”

Just as he turned to walk back into the kitchen, he jumped at the sudden appearance before him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Momo smiled. “(Y/n) is probably still in bed. They started their period this morning.”

A few years ago, even the vaguest mentions of any “lady problems” would have sent Shoji into a flustered state but as he grew older and once he had been around more women, and you, he was a lot more educated on the things that you go through.

And at this new information, he frowned. He remembered how much pain you experience during your monthly and he grew worried. Especially since you hadn’t eaten yet.

“Got it, thanks Momo.”

So, he grabbed his keys and made a small trip.

The first stop was the vietnamese restaurant down the block, picking up some beef brisket pho and to the convenience store to stock up on few snacks he knew you craved during this time.

Once he returned to the dorm, he plated up your food and an iced barley tea and stacked it on top of a tray, heating up a hot water bottle and carrying it up to your room.

When he was met with silence when he knocked, he gently pushed the door open and there you were, curled up underneath your duvet, arms surely hugging your abdomen.

Lips turned downward and eyebrows pinched, he placed the tray down onto your desk and softly shook you from your sleep.

“Hmm?” Your sleepy grumbling was adorable, eyes squinting underneath the sudden light in your room. “Sho?”

“Yeah, honey…how’re you feeling?”He brushed your hair away from your face, hand falling down to cup your cheek.

“M’okay…cramps are really bad this time…”

“Mmm I’m sorry.” He cooed, loving how you leaned into the warmth of his hand.

“S’okay, not your fault.” You smiled, easing his worries, that’s when you turned your nose up and sniffed at the sudden aroma in the air. “Is that-“

“Pho? Yeah, I picked some up for you just now. Was worried that you hadn’t eaten anything.” His heart dropped when you looked up at him with teary eyes, worried he did something wrong.

“Sho…” Your bottom lip wobbled. “You went through all that trouble, for me?”

“Wasn’t any trouble at all, sweetheart. Anything for you.”

His tone was so reverent, you had no doubt he meant it. And it was true.

You could ask for the world on a silver platter and he’d move heaven and earth to do it for you.

“T-Thank…Thank you.” The tears poured over, spilling down your flushed cheeks.

“My love…”

“I’m sorry…don’t know why I’m crying.” You sat up, burying your face in your hands.

“Don’t apologize, lovely. I understand. Now, why don’t you scoot up a bit. I’ll sit behind you and you can eat something. Hmm?”

Content in doing so, you scooted up and let him settle behind you. His arms wrapping around your midsection, big hands holding the water bottle just below your lower stomach, loving the way you melted into him as you ate your late breakfast.

He loves to sit behind you when you were on your period so his body heat would ease the ache in your lower back.

Hooking his chin over your shoulder so he could watch you eat. You hated it but he loved seeing you eat.

There wasn’t really a specific reason. Maybe he just enjoyed seeing you be taken care of…regardless, he loved it.

He loved you.

Once you finished your fill, he placed the tray down on the floor by your bedside and laid down with you.

Knowing you loved being little spoon.

His hands had replaced the water bottle once it had cooled down, his finger tips kneading at your flesh, chuckling softly when you preened and basically purred like a little kitty cat.

“Let’s take a nap, hmm?” He muttered, littering kisses to the back of your neck.

“Sounds good to me…” You slurred, halfway under the spell of slumber.

And later on that evening, when you had bled through your sweats and onto the bedsheets, and his shorts, he quieted your embarrassed cries, shushing you with a tender kiss. He warmed up your towel and shooed you back to the showers, stripping your bed of its sheets and shedding his own shorts, opting to change into some sweats.

He simply put the soiled objects into the washing machine, on a cold cycle, and once your shower was finished, he scooped you up and brought you to his room. Giving you another one of his hoodies and pulling you into his bed.

Reassuring you that he wasn’t at all grossed out and you shouldn’t be embarrassed. There are some things you can’t control, and this was one of them.

Sheets could be washed or replaced, same with his clothing.

But you? You were the most precious thing on earth to him. Nothing could take that away.

[igglemouse]

Unfortunately, my idiot 'sister' Dre has decided that she will be visiting me more often to help me adjust to life on this silly planet of yours. She thinks it's her duty to be as annoying as possible and wants to apparently teach me how to ear. Yes, eating. You beings still do this. On Sixam, we absorb the nutrients we need or just take capsules but as I understand it is an entire thing for your kind. Seems like a waste of time and resources to me but according to Dre I must do it to help blend in with silly little creatures.

So over a bowl of what you call apple salad, messy, sticky, slimy, apple salad, we talk. I tell her about my first day and about the human I've met, the one with the light hair? "She was cautious," I say, staring at this bowl of junk before me. "She didn't appreciate the whole tongue flicking thing," I point out, remembering the moment of uncomfort between us.

"Zer, did you go through any of the body language experience I sent you?" She asks, her wrigglers wriggling a little violently. Annoyance. She's looking at me as if I'm the stupid one. Do you see what I mean with her? Why I loathe her so?

"N-no..." I admit, feeling some of the heat from her eyes. "That first one you sent me was like five hours long. I didn't have time for that!" I say jabbing at a slice of apple and refusing to bring it closer to my mouth.

She groans as if she is dealing with a child. "That was the shortest one, Zer. These creatures speak through body language, small things, things you must learn if you expect to blend in. You can't just go flicking your tongue out, it reminds them of one of their creatures here, snakes, I believe they call them, and other various reptiles...reptiles? Scaly, egg laying-"

"Ugh!" she's explaining them to me because I also did not study about the other animals on this planet. "Maybe it is the snakes who should be in charge!"

"So, what did you do for your entire trip here?" Dre looks at me and she's clearly judging me. "Did you study anything?"

"I played the video games you sent me," I reply proudly. "As I understand it, they are the main delivery of knowledge for this species." I fold my arms, pride steaming through me, because it was clear to me that these 'games' are a vital part of your education system.

Dre's chuckling tells me I am wrong and that I perhaps have made another mistake. "I sent you those for your own amusement, Zer. There is nothing to be learned from those things. They're just there to waste time."

"Ugh! You are trying to sabotage me, aren't you Dre?" DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN WITH THIS ONE?! "You've always been jealous of my status in our birth group! Always been envious of my-"

"We have the same status-"

"And yet you are beneath me," I remind her, gaining the upper hand. She needs this, she needs constant reminders of her place among her siblings. I am the one destined for greatness, I am the one who has been gifted this world to mold and do with on my own.

"Any ways," she sighs as dramatically as possible. Do you understand now why I loathe this woman? She does this a lot, by the way, and it's always unwarranted. "This woman, Tammy? I doubt she is S.I.B."

"Oh, and please tell me why you think this, oh great Dre."

"Ah, you'd know...something is off about those types. They are human and yet..." her wrigglers twitch, fear? "It's hard to explain. There's a lot going on here on this planet and half of it I can't explain."

Dre's certainty that Tammy isn't S.I.B does little to make my day better because she seems pretty creeped out about the whole thing. As for Tammy, I was very nice to her, right? I decide not to dwell on it, I'm sure I'll meet her again and will win her over.

I spend the rest of my morning recycling because, frankly, someone on this planet has to. I think I've mentioned that there is plastic everywhere on this planet, everywhere. I get it, it's a versatile little resource and you can use it to make almost anything and everything but that doesn't mean you should. The sheer carelessness of your species confounds me but at least you'll have me to clean up your messes.

I remind myself that I'll need to keep up with your news if I'm going to take over this planet but I admit, your so called 'leaders' are absolutely insane. Democracy, a scam system ran by inferior beings such as yourselves, is a failure. How does anything et done with everyone going in ten different directions? Inefficient, chaotic, and just simply stupid. We Sixams have it right, one world, one leader. Simple, effective, orderly.

The rest of my day goes as you might expect, nothing remarkable, just a steady routine of doing, well, nothing. That is until my idiot assistant shows up. Again. She seems determined to haunt me and the mere sight of her around my garbage little home would get my wrigglers wriggling if only they were out to wriggle.

She thinks she's here to help, I'm sure, but all she does is point out the mistakes she thinks I'm making or smirking in my face as if she knows all the answers. One day, when this planet is mines, she'll understand her place. For now, I'll do my best to deal with her.

This time she's here to educate me on how you beings court one another. Apparently, she thinks this is information I need to know, I disagree. "So, you're telling me they do this physically?" This sounds messy.

"Yes, Zer," she looks exasperated again as if she's losing patience with me. "So you really have learned nothing on your way here?"

"Why should I?" I shoot back. "They are clearly a primitive life form."

"That may be but you have to know that things are different here. Like I've mentioned, they procreate physically still and quite enjoy it, it is pleasurable for them, it drives a lot of their social interaction-"

"Uh huh," I wave my hand dismissively, the less I know about this the better I think.

"You, Zer are quite attractive. So the men here might hit on you-"

"Hmmm, to what purpose?" I ask the question I should not have asked.

She sighs and then transmits me a message of what you beings do when you want to procreate. I am quite frankly disgusted. The male puts his what in your what and then?!?! No thanks! On Sixam, the male covers your eggs in his sperm, completely in private, and then you swallow them, like pills, although this is only the terrestrial option. Either way my head is shaking at the thought of what you humans do.

"That will absolutely not be happening when it comes to me and I am insulted that you'd show me such a thing! ESPECIALLY mentally!"

I do not waste much time kicking her out of the house, my house, shoving her through the door as if doing so would banish the mental images she's cursed me with. On Sixam, we are past such things!

"I am sorry Zer but I figure you need to know!" She insists, stumbling out of the house, trying to get back in my good graces of course. "The males here on this planet can be quite aggressive when wanting to-"

"Yes yes Dre, please do not bring this up again," I cut her off, the images of your kind pressed up together doing who knows what stuck in my mind. "Put on your disguise too you silly little thing!"

I spend the rest of the day doing nothing but taking in the world around me, my world. It is a strange and chaotic planet but I must admit, there is beauty here. It is hidden beneath layers of smog, but beauty nonetheless. The colors, the landscapes, the resilient of life on this planet is inspiring in a primitive way. I'll do what I can to save this dying world but I am no hero, of course, because I intend to polish it and present it as a rare gem before the great Sixam empire. After all, what's the point of conquering a planet if its not worth ruling?

Zer Avoi ~ Episode 1.3

[subby-succubus]

Imagine you're sitting in my lap and I'm giving you pills from an unlabeled bottle. Little capsules, all different colors, almost like candy. You keep taking them like a good little whore, sucking my fingers each time. You have no idea what they are, and you don't care. You'd do anything you were told to do AND you'd probably take a pill you found on the ground. There was no way this could ever be your limit.

Your head is spinning a little already. The lights are brighter than they should be. You can mostly think clearly. Well, you THINK you're thinking clearly. Oh, it's time for the next pill! How many is that? Has to be more than five, couldn't be more than, um... Twenty? You think maybe they're starting to really kick in now. Every sense is pulsing, growing and receding in intensity. You try to say something, but it slips out of your mouth and turns into a few happy syllables. "I know, Angel. Here, one more."

I ask what you want to do. You giggle and turn and slip to the floor. You reach for my belt and fumble at the buckle. I smile at you as I undo it and strip off my pants. "Of course we can."

Your mouth isn't so much opened for me as it is hanging limp, but it's warm and wet all the same. I take hold of your hair and push inside your throat. I'm having to do all the work, but you seem happy enough. You're not blacking out just yet, but it can't be far away. You moan and fumble at your own tits and pretend to help me fuck you, but you're getting limper with every passing second.

I figure I'm ready to move on. You figure you're ready to go to sleep. We can both have what we want, really. I strip off what little you're wearing, and the last thing you feel as you drift away is the head of my cock starting to enter your...

Imagine you're waking up, right where you went to sleep. How long has it been? You're still naked. I'm still there. I have one hand on your cheek and the other jerking my cock, slowly. When I see your eyes flutter open, I speed up. You try to say something. Try.

I take my hand off my cock to grab the pill bottle. I shake three of them into your hand. "Go ahead."

You take them, of course. Then I throw back the rest of the bottle into my mouth and swallow them all.

You're shocked. I'm laughing. My hand is back on my cock, making myself cum on your face. "It was a joke, silly slut. They're all placebos!" I smear my load across your face, let you down gently to a lying position. I wipe my cock on your clothes, throw them on top of you, and walk away.

Now imagine that before starting our little game tonight, I took the placebo bottle and put two dozen real pills on top of it. You swallowed them all. What were they? You don't know. I've already forgotten. Who gives a shit anyway. What matters is I drugged you into unconsciousness, did God knows what with your body, and then convinced you that you were sober the whole time. Isn't that hilarious?

- Sinister

Wow. Wow wow wow. Yes please.

I'd just keep taking anything you gave me. I'd want to be a good girl for you after all. Each pill making me more and more needy. Each time I think less and less about the consequences by replacing those thoughts with how badly I want to be obedient. I mean, I can't say no. How could I? I want so badly to please you. Wanting to pleasure you with my mouth. Wanting more, but feeling too sleepy. I fall asleep for you to do whatever you want to my little, weak body.

I wake up feeling hot and used. Not sure what happened to me. Not sure what is currently happening. Not fully understanding how I could be like that with placebos. But if you say so, it must be true. After all, you wouldn't lie to me. It's my fault for being such a dumb slut. It's my fault for being so easy.

It would just make our game so much harder for me to win. Just like it should be.