#and is also the least like him in circumstances and experiences

[greentrickster]

The funniest thing about reading fandom stuff on the Saja Boys, as someone with a background in the performing arts, is the sheer number of people commenting on how Jinu must have worked his butt off to find four random demons and teach them to be Kpop stars while also running everything behind the scenes for all the technical stuff.

And like, yes, that's a super funny headcanon, I've absolutely been giggling at them.

But also, with my personal experience with the performing arts... absolutely no way Jinu was the only performer Gwi-Ma got onto his side. Like, the I've met people in way better circumstances than Jinu who would absolutely sell their soul to make it big. And the fact that all five of these guys look extremely similar to Jinu even in their demonic forms indicates, to me at least, that there's a good chance that they were all former human musicians themselves.

Therefore, with all this in mind, I will put forth the humble suggestion:

Jinu didn't round up a random group of demons behind Gwi-Ma's back and train them from the ground up.

Jinu held freaking auditions behind Gwi-Ma's bacl and brutally narrowed it down American Idol style to the best of the best in order to assemble a crack team for his plan, and the other four members were the ones who made the cut.

"But Trickster, he was the only one who would get anything from Gwi-Ma for doing this, what would the other four be doing this for?"

For the chance to be performing in front of tens of thousands of adoring fans and be worshiped as an idol, naturally. I mean, have you seen the things real-world people will go through to get a chance at that? And these guys have already sold their souls for a chance at this, why not team up with the best performer in the demon realm for another chance at it?

Also, I think Baby was in charge of their TikTok account. He's just got that vibe to him, you know?

[rivereverie]

Just some observations on Astarion learning to see that he is loved

I just saw a clip of Astarion's response to his partner cheating on him with Mizora and it got me thinking. While his entire reaction is very telling and meaningful in its entirety, one line stood out to me:

"I really thought there was more to you. That you were better than other people"

This was striking because it immediately reminded me of something else he says, in the scene after his siblings attempt to capture and return him to Cazador:

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that."

These lines feel a little odd at first, because Astarion isn't known for putting the PC on a pedestal. I don't think that's exactly what he's doing here. I think these lines are just capturing the inner chaos and contradiction that naturally come with the gradual unraveling of a long-held worldview. At this point, Astarion is able to process that one person cares for and accepts him, but only one. They must be an outlier: an exception to the rule. Surely they're something special.

Obviously this isn't true, though, and the next step is for him to learn that the PC isn't actually unique in their ability to accept and care for him him. In fact, Astarion is already loved by others and just doesn't see it. This line of his is beautifully contrasted by Karlach's reaction to Astarion's near-abduction. She is righteously angry and protective because she loves Astarion too.

"I dare Cazador to sent more lackeys our way. This is our territory. I'll crack anyone who tries to come into my house and hurt my people."

Earlier in the story, we get a similar moment during the confession scene, showing again how Astarion isn't always able to see the truth of what others feel for him.

When he says this, he sounds surprised. Like the idea of a friend is a revelation. This kind of broke my heart when I first heard it, because I thought it was obvious to him that he already had friends, in both the other companions and my character. But I think a part of him genuinely was stuck in that old thought pattern of assuming that anyone who showed interest in him just wanted to use him. This also makes it clear just how divorced sex is from affection in his mind and experience. Though they've slept together at least several times and grown more emotionally intimate too, Astarion still needs confirmation that the PC actually cares for him.

I made a post once about the two triggers for Astarion's confession here, which further reveal his mindset: going out of your way and into danger to get his scars translated, or choosing not to force him into complying with Araj's dehumanizing demands. Both of these things are concrete demonstrations of respect and care for him and what he wants. Astarion knows very well how empty words can be, so actions are what finally help him believe that the PC cares about him, and gives him the impetus to confess.

Later, If you break up with Astarion, his reaction is extremely telling in that he regresses slightly from this healthier mindset he had developed:

"I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."

Typically, we witness any traces of Astarion's self-deprecation filtered through irony or dark humor, so his vulnerability in this moment is stark.

He claims that he has very little to offer, but that just isn't true. He may be going through a bit of a crisis, but he is still a shockingly good partner given the circumstances. He is unwaveringly supportive, caring, and clearly tries to lighten his partner's emotional load when they begin to feel the strain of responsibility. Not to mention, just being himself still makes him perfectly worthy of being loved. In any relationship, there will be times when one person needs more support than they themself can give, and that doesn't mean that they aren't enough. We're seeing, yet again, that he sometimes just doesn’t recognize how deeply he is valued by others. At this point, maybe a part of him still feels like he needs to be of service in order to be accepted, let alone loved. I also personally interpret this line as partially concerning his insecurity around not "providing" his partner with sex at this time, reiterating this deeply internalized belief that he needs to perform in order to be valued.

All of these little moments add so much subtly and humanity to his character, and make his development feel natural and earned. The payoff is clear after Cazador's death, when we get to see his new confidence:

He doesn't have to ask "really?" this time.

"You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am."

He truly knows now that he is loved.

[t4lon]

this is an incredibly rambly post about "splitting" vs headmate creation, and the view of splitting as inherently maladaptive vs other forms as inherently neutral. this is not endorsement or encouragement to split on purpose, or a general statement on CDD system functionality in general, it's solely like. idk. just a breakdown of our experience

content warnings for. well. Intentional splitting (in the vaguely inaccurate CDD sense), mentions of sex, abuse, and self harm, and discussion of sadism in a sexual context

i want to preface this by saying we already struggle to differentiate intentional creation methods from intentional "splitting"; we have DID and frankly were under the impression that for people like us, these are kind of fundamentally the same thing

i no longer think this is true, because among people with CDDs, there seems to be this incredibly common notion that splitting is 100% bad, that it represents a regression in recovery, or that at the very least it is always a maladaptive coping mechanism that you would be better off discarding to use something else. i see this sentiment pretty consistently even from people who are extremely pro-endo- and willogenic and it has confused me and kind of settled me further into the alienation i feel from both endogenic and traumagenic communities

we split on purpose to cope with cognitive dissonance; additionally, we use heavy dissociation to relocate our memories, skillsets, and symptoms between ourselves as our circumstances change. it is of course important to keep in mind that our life is not perfect- there is always a possibility that our situation is so negatively impactful that the "maladaptive" methods we employ are simply all we have, but i think at this point i dont believe that, and i really can only make my point through a very personal example

i (this specific alter) have always struggled with healthy expressions of sexuality; my sexual behavior has always been heavily influenced by trauma, and i find it difficult to kindle any sort of pride or positive emotions about any of my sexual interests. a lot of sex was, for a very long time, a way to paradoxically punish myself for wanting to have it. relevant to this example, i leaned heavily into my masochism because my sadism scared me

i was like this my entire life. there was very little anyone could do to change my mind, because as much as i respected and was attracted to sadists/sadism, i simply could not internalize the idea that it may be scary but is not inherently evil for me to want to hurt other people consensually in a sexual context. i could rationally push myself to accept this notion for others, and i could live alongside and befriend them with this understanding, but i could not under any circumstances identify myself as a sadist- to do so would undermine my (deeply warped and unhealthy) self-image of someone who is Acted Upon during sex. so any attraction or desire i experienced surrounding the topic became incredibly distressing

this eventually resulted in an involuntary split, and an alter who ultimately ended up abusing me for several months as we struggled to come to terms with our collective feelings about sex

and then she split, again. whether or not it was truly intentional is frankly debatable, but it was something we had been thinking about for some time when it happened, and something we have done in the past. the result was two new alters, one holding not only her sadism, but also autistic and OCD traits that had previously been repressed or punished, in the form of A Special Boy Who I Love So So Much, and the other holding her religious inclinations, her gentleness/parental instinct, and ironically her temper, in the form of. well, the other guy's wife

now i share a mind and body with someone who i love deeply, and who is unashamedly sadistic, and not abusive. this level of proximity is unmatched; with him, i can functionally practice BEING sadistic in a healthy way without having to push through the cognitive wall of "that's not me. i dont want to be like that", and through this practice and trust in him i can slowly realize my own identity without being sent into a spiral of self hatred

so i do want to ask- what about that is more maladaptive than self harm with sex i don't want to have? what about that is more maladaptive than continuing to fake it until i make it, hating myself the entire time?

it is very hard to extend grace to yourself. it is very very hard for some people to make their internal voice any kinder, or to quell critical or anxious thoughts.

it is much easier to love and respect someone else.

For our system in particular, it is fundamentally easier, and frankly healthier, for us to acknowledge the things about ourselves that we don't like by learning to love each other in spite of (and later, because of) them. i was never going to get through the miles of social trauma and aversion to cringe and religious shame on my own, but because i love and trust and know and at times AM my headmates, i know that it's possible to exist peacefully in ways that frightened me

community and external support could probably also contribute to this, but in order for that to work i would have to overcome another hurdle- social phobia and general Autism Problems make it difficult for me to maintain consistent relationships with other people, and on top of that, i am an incredibly arrogant person who struggles to trust the judgment of others, especially when being provided validation or encouragement. i simply either dont trust that you mean it, or i dont trust that you actually know what you're talking about. i truly believe that this is never going to be fully solved; i think that this specific form of skepticism and distrust (note that i am NOT always right!) is genuinely partially wired into our mind. we need reason to believe you, and because you simply cannot be an expert in our mind nor do you have any true frame of reference for what we feel internally, we cannot trust you when you tell us it's okay to be/think/feel anything

and as far as ethical concerns wrt headmate creation for this purpose go, this is why i brought up our ability to intentionally dissociate to relocate memories and concepts. in a way that feels very similar to the process of splitting a new headmate, we can simply voluntarily trade traits that distress one member but are neutral or appealing to another. it's when no one can handle the trait that it gets "lost" and repressed, which we frankly DO consider maladaptive for our circumstances. but through this process we can functionally pause and continue the process of "headmate creation" indefinitely, forever.

tldr DID is confusing. plurality is confusing. i kind of have to just ignore what everyone calls healthy bc i think i tend to hurt myself to fit a mold on principle

[11queensupreme11]

The only issue I take with the cheater cu chulainn au is that it means.. Percy could've functionally left him whenever she wanted?? 😭 assuming it's still a yandere au because that's the standard, but even if it wasn't...

I mean it's great for her, but also I feel like if she could've left like that whenever she wanted/iced him out.. personally I would've done that a lot sooner?? Like. Cheating is disgusting , but being a rapist is. Irrefutably, unspeakably worse??? By every margin possible. And that's been part of his lore since before they were together. Now this is the case with most if not all of her other yans too, because at least Hades and Poseidon are absolutely confirmed and Anubis has the potential with all the women he kidnapped, though i don't remember anything definitive about that.

I mean maybe she just needed an excuse to be able to leave in the eyes of godly society?? But i would assume at the very least the other yans would've been Team Percy-Getting-Away-From-Cu-Chulainn since Day 1 so if thats the case I imagine there were other outs for her regarding the whole circumstance

All that to say, as much as I have fun with the AU, it has unfortunate implications for our girl Percy that my unfortunately not very immersion abiding sense of justice will not allow me to reconcile without some very uncountable feelings about it ☠️ If she was allowed to have 'a line', and cheating was it.. Why was the pine not drawn a lot sooner over all of his arguably more grievously evil lore? Pardon the Percy slander for but a moment 😭😭🥺 but if she has the agency to stop whatever they had going on at functionally any moment, doesn't that kind of imply that she would've just been.. ignoring everything else about him until he did something that personally effected her?? 😭😭

Like... There's no real way around it I don't think, because there's no way she'd go that long without hearing his lore from somewhere or someone, so there's no way she'd be oblivious that he's. A literal rapist. And MAYBE it's been a very long time or whatever but regardless I feel like that would be the line for anyone with agency or any sense of decency? Even if she was desensitised from her experiences, she's a pretty righteous person so I feel like if anything heroic remains of her, i.e the essence of her character, that's not something that would be glazed over/that she'd be able to look past in the first place, let alone for long enough to be married to him??

It brings attention to uncomfortable realisations about Arsenic Blues canon too because. If I was in her place and I knew all of that about him, or learned about it over the course of time, I would switch up from banter to genuinely wanting him dead REAL quick ☠️ It makes me curious about how/if it'll be handled in the main fic honestly. Does she know about that specific aspect of his past? Does it change her perspective of him? Would it turn her away from being able to see him in an amicable light? She could probably assume he was a massive bastard that committed genocide or whatever but. Maybe its just me but there are a lot of reasons for murder, wheras rape is just a purely evil act for no end other than cruelty and violence. I don't think it's too controversial for me to say that I would even agree with the perspective that it could be seen as an even worse crime to that end, because those victims would have to live with it too.

She's been a victim herself in many chapters now 😭 Idk how she could ever see past it with the characterisation she has.

I'd also like to say that this is NOT hate and I'm so sorry if it comes off that way or if it comes off with a tone. This may very well come off as some insane unhinged rant, but I promise I'm not judging whoever originated the AU or the content of the Arsenic Blues fic/any related works!! It just got me thinking.. or maybe overthinking 😭 but now I can't stop thinking about it because it feels like kind of a big thing the more I ponder it. Cu Chulainn seems like he'd be the easiest to avoid getting to this point with because yandere or no, everyone kinda hates him, so in comparison he has a lot less influence excluding pure force, which wouldn't turn out so well for him regarding ALL the other yans with a vested interest in keeping him the FUCK away from Percy 😭☠️☠️

I know I might be taking this way too seriously but I think it's a point worth bringing up because it does have implications for the fic that I can't unsee now 😭 I definitely won't be cheering for Cu Cuhlainn anytime soon.

(Without ignoring what any of the other yans have done to her, but in those circumstances there's a lot of context for why she wouldn't be able to get away from them/why she might suppress any feelings she might have about them also being rapists in order to protect her own psyche 🥺 I.e, Poseidon and Hades are literally her relatives so she's kinda bound to them and Loki/Beel are insanely powerful with the influence to interfere with her life that Cu arguably lacks, etc... and none of this is to diminish that. But in contrast, a lot of the scenes with Cu Chulainn are where she either seeks him out or entertains interactions with him during chance encounters/when he pursues her to be annoying. It kinda sets him apart from the rest of them so he'd have a lot less ground to stand on if she justifiably did a switch up on him when/if she learned he IS actually THAT BAD, even if God society is judging him based on different things, that negative reputation wouldn't work to his advantage. She'd have a better chance at an early retreat from him if learning all this would change her opinion quick enough for her to stop giving him the time of day. She's stuck with the others though, RIP)

omg i feel so bad cuz you wrote such a long and detailed ask but my answer's gonna be so fucking short 😭😭😭😭😭😭

it's also a BIT of a spoiler (tho i'm sure some of my readers have probably already figured it out by now) so i'm putting it under the cut!

before act 4 (so before she gets yoinked to the pjo verse), all the seven love interests will be married to percy

BUT they will marry her in a way that she CANNOT LEAVE THEM. like what we have now:

hades: had yue lao bind them together with his red cords, making them married forever. she cannot divorce from that.

anubis: they're mated for life now 💀

poseidon: didn't do anything special, it's a normal marriage. however, only the father is allowed to demand a divorce and since poseidon's the hubby AND daddy... they're not divorcing 💀💀

so yeah, that's why percy can't just leave cú chulainn forever. i won't say HOW he does it (cuz i haven't planned it either LOL) but he will find a way to forcefully bind her to him just like the other yans

she can't leave them. EVER. she is forever theirs, and they are forever hers.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

It’s honestly refreshing to have someone lay out all of Shinji’s good qualities. Akihiko had already known that Mitsuru gets it, that she understands Shinji, but god does it feel good to hear it said in true Mitsuru Kirijo style: elegantly stated and thoroughly cited.

For Mitsuru, specifically, to be the one presenting the evidence is also a good thing. If Akihiko had tried making the exact same points, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shinji would refuse on principle to accept a single word of it.

And maybe it’s also nice to see Shinji be the one getting flustered for once. He rarely ever shows that side of himself, even to Akihiko. It’s been that way since they were kids.

The whole conversation so far has only been round one, though, hasn’t it? They already have another challenge waiting for them.

“So, we’ve, ah–” Akihiko clears his throat. Slowly, Shinji thumbs the edge of his hat up to uncover one eye. He and Mitsuru both peer curiously at him, and Akihiko quails under their attention even though he’d literally just asked for it. “So with that all hashed out… What do we do now? I mean– Do we just– ah–”

His face feels scorched. Is this really so difficult or is he just that bad at it? He knows what he wants to say, so why can’t he actually say it? “Just– start, um–”

Shinji laughs, because he’s an asshole (and god, Akihiko really is beyond help, because the thought is tinged with as much fondness as it is irritation). As if Shinji has any room to talk anyway, when getting nice things said about him was all it took to make him run and hide behind his hat.

“Pretty sure the word you’re lookin’ for is ‘dating’, Aki.”

“I– Yes, thank you, Shinji. I was getting there.“

He’d been hoping that once the question had actually been asked out loud (mostly out loud), it would feel easier.

It does not feel any easier.

He’s out of his depth here. Despite his ‘fans’ and all of the interest they supposedly have in him, he’s never even been on a date before, let alone had any experience with dating as a continuous, ongoing state of being. Other people make this seem so easy– to hear some of his boxing teammates talk, they navigate this obstacle course more than once per school year. How?

Shinji laughs again. Akihiko is half tempted to punch him, but the closest shoulder is the bad one, so that’s not happening. Then the laugh trails off into something warmer, softer, maybe even a little shy, and that impulse to slug him fades away entirely.

“I mean. If you’re really serious, then– I’m not gonna say no,” Shinji says. The look on his face is complicated and hard to put a name to. Something between a soft smile and almost a grimace.

It’s relief, maybe. And if Shinji’s really been wanting this at least since they were fifteen (how on earth had Akihiko never noticed?), then– relief would make sense.

“Yeah, of course I’m serious,” Akihiko nods. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

They both turn to look at Mitsuru just in time to catch some kind of realization darken her gaze. Her summery smile wilts. Her mouth flattens into a tense line and she closes her eyes as though against pain– worse than pained, she looks guilty, somehow.

Something ices over in Akihiko’s stomach.

“Mitsuru?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Why would she think she needs to apologize to them? The chill slithers up into Akihiko’s chest and his heart spasms against it. “Nothing would make me happier, truly. But…”

Mitsuru trails off, as if searching for the correct words.

“But…?” Shinji urges quietly, leaning forward to prop his elbows against his knees. He’s using the same gentle cadence as he does with Yamagishi, and under nearly any other circumstance Akihiko would laugh about Shinji proving his and Mitsuru’s point so easily.

He’s never felt less like laughing. The sudden, careening nosedive the mood has taken leaves him nauseated.

“I’m afraid I may have gotten ahead of myself. I was so swept up in– in the excitement of it all, that I allowed a rather critical complication to slip my mind.”

Akihiko’s head bobs forward; it feels more like his body deciding to move on its own than him telling it to do so. Shinji nods too, prompting silently for Mitsuru to continue.

“Do you recall when I told you about– about my engagement?”

…Oh.

Akihiko does remember, now that she mentions it.

It had been during their first year, not long after the end of summer vacation. Mitsuru had come back to the dorms one afternoon after attending a business luncheon with her father, clearly off balance. By that time, he and Shinji both had become pretty adept at picking up when something was bothering her even when she made her best effort to hide it, and that day had been far from her best effort.

It had taken a lot of coercing (and a little bullying from Shinji) to finally get her to spill about what was wrong, but eventually she had confessed:

A match had been arranged for her with the scion of another powerful company, one of the Kirijo Group’s corporate allies. The luncheon had served as an introduction between her and her new fiancé.

Both he and Shinji had been aghast and incredulous about the whole thing, especially since by Akihiko’s recollection, this fiancé of Mitsuru’s is quite a bit older than her. Shinji’s view on the issue had been especially belligerent (Did he already have feelings for Mitsuru by that point? For Akihiko…?), but Mitsuru had eventually talked them into letting it drop. This kind of thing wasn’t unusual for families like hers, she’d said, and she had assured them again and again that she wasn’t upset, just caught off guard.

Shinji fidgets in his seat. He looks serious and somber rather than outraged like back then. “You ain’t married yet though, are you? Not for a while.”

“That was originally the case, but…” Mitsuru lowers her gaze. “The Kirijo Group is in a rather precarious position after my father’s passing, and it’s been decided that it would be in the company’s best interest to accelerate the timeline, somewhat. With regards to the– marriage.“

She bites the last word out like it tastes sour. Akihiko wants nothing more than to go over to her and hold her tightly, and to hell with manners, but he stays rooted in place. 

“Accelerated it–” He swallows nervously. “By how much?” 

“An exact date hasn’t been chosen as of yet, but the plan is for the wedding to take place soon after graduation. Within that same month, most likely.” 

Shinji and Akihiko share a look, equally shocked. That’s so soon. That’s too soon. Forget anything to do with the two of them, Mitsuru won’t even have had the chance to live like a proper adult yet…

Would she still get the chance to attend university? To study abroad like she’s always wanted? What would it mean for her role in S.E.E.S. if they still haven’t gotten rid of the Dark Hour by then?

“I’m sorry.” Mitsuru lowers herself into an apologetic bow over her hands clasped in her lap, rendering the both of them speechless. “I realize now how terribly selfish it was of me to  say all of this. I’m grateful that we had the chance to speak openly, but it was never my intent to– to bait you with the prospect of–”

Akihiko doubts she’s able to actually catch any of the individual words from his and Shinji’s overlapping protests, but she seems to get the gist at least. She sits up, looking mollified.

“Perhaps that was rather dramatic of me,” she murmurs, looking off to the side. “I suppose the truth is that– I feel as though I baited myself with the idea. I forgot myself, for a moment.”

Akihiko’s limbs finally seem ready to obey him again.

“Mitsuru, hey–” he says, reaching out one hand towards her. “Come over here, sit with us.”

For a moment she simply stares at him. Horror begins to creep up the back of his neck– that was way too forward, it had to be– but it’s quelled when she stands and crosses around the table. He and Shinji both shift a little to give her room to settle between them.

After a brief hesitation, Akihiko carefully (carefully) wraps an arm around her shoulders. To hell with manners, right? She’s trembling slightly, he realizes, but some of that tension drops away almost the instant he touches her.

Shinji seems to be having a hard time deciding what to do with himself (or maybe what he’s allowed to). Eventually he settles on lightly resting the back of his hand against her upper arm, which in Akihiko’s opinion is maybe one of the weirder, more awkward options he could have gone with. He’ll have to remind himself to laugh at Shinji later. Now’s not the time, though, because Mitsuru has started speaking again.

“I couldn’t be…faithful to you both. Any relationship with me would come with a predetermined expiration date. Neither of you deserve that, so, in that regard–” She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders under Akihiko’s arm. “I think it would be for the best if the two of you just–”

“I don’t wanna hear you say we should just leave you out of it,” Shinji cuts her off, quietly but quick as lightning. Thank god, honestly, because Akihiko isn’t sure if he could have gotten his tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth in time.

“Maybe whatever this is can’t be forever, sure. But if that’s your reason to stay out of this, then I shouldn’t be a part of it either.” Shinji continues. “After all, we still don’t know how long I’m even gonna be here.”

“Shinji–”

Akihiko speaks before he even has a chance to think about it, and Mitsuru does at the same moment, their voices overlapping.

”Aragaki…”

"I’m not goin’ anywhere if I've got any say in it.” Shinji makes a placating sort of gesture with the hand that’s not still touching Mitsuru’s arm. “I can promise that at least. I'm just sayin’ it still might not be up to me.”

That’s… that is true. As much as Akihiko hates that Shinji brought it up to begin with, he hates even more that Shinji is completely correct.

“But I know that neither of you’d ever let me even try that argument, so I’m not lettin’ you get away with it either, Kirijo.”

He really wasn’t expecting something like that from Shinji, and clearly Mitsuru wasn’t either. She looks stunned.

“He’s got a point, Mitsuru,” Akihiko urges, hope blooming in his chest again. “Maybe the future isn’t certain, but if that’s a reason for Shinji to go for it, then it can't be a reason for you not to. Right?”

Slowly, her gaze becomes chastened, then contemplative, and then–

Then she smiles again.

“Yes…” Closing her eyes, she tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. I– I can’t let this hold me back either. I won’t. I want to have this with you both, more than anything. Temporary or not.”

“Glad you’re listenin’ to sense.” Shinji’s clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but color has flushed back into his ears at Mitsuru’s proclamation. Honestly, hearing her say it so openly also has Akihiko’s head swimming with restless heat.

“But really…” Shinji trails off, then turns his attention to Akihiko. Akihiko blinks back in confusion. “You’re the only one out of us without something hangin’ over your head about this. We oughta be asking you if you’re sure you’re okay with that more than anything.”

Akihiko remains silent for a moment while he mulls over Shinji’s words. He’s really not used to being the somewhat ‘normal’ one in any group, even one as weird as his circle of friends. It seems insane to him– the fact that he doesn’t have any kind of illness or arranged marriage looming threateningly over his shoulder somehow increases the pressure on his decision.

But even knowing that there’s a time limit on this– this relationship, Akihiko feels more and more confident by the moment about what the right thing to do is.

They all want this, after all. They all know how it feels to nearly lose something vital because uncertainty made them hesitate.

But how does he say any of that?

How did they do it, seriously? If they’re experiencing anything even close to the absolute maelstrom that’s got Akihiko’s brain spinning in his skull, how did they ever manage to make something coherent out of it? He feels like he’s taking a test he hasn’t even tried studying for.

Akihiko takes a deep breath, leans forward on his knees, and lets the words come spilling out. 

“...I'm– I've been stuck, for a long time, in this loop thinking 'if I had only done more' or 'if I had only worked harder' or 'if I'd only been better', then maybe I wouldn't have lost someone that mattered to me. 

“But I've been getting a lot of second chances lately. I think I'd have to be an idiot to turn away from one of those chances because I'm afraid of what might go wrong, when I was…when I was lucky enough to get it at all."

He’s not sure where all that came from, but he hopes at least that he got his point across.“Akihiko…” Mitsuru murmurs. He lets his eyes dart up to meet hers only briefly. The expression on her face, and on Shinji’s for that matter, is too– just too much (hopeful, wounded, soothed, touched, warm...) for him to look at for longer than a moment.

[thebestpartofwakingup]

@diminuel been desperately waiting these past couple weeks to finally get the free time to sketch the grumiest, brattiest, sassiest girl of any RA (and eventually, Navy) recruit's nightmares

[tjerra14]

petition for my hands to stop shaking uncontrollably please

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

truth will set you free // bob reynolds

Summary: You are injected with a truth serum during a mission, and when you return to the Watchtower, you must avoid Bob in order not to spill your feelings for him, but this causes Bob to believe he has done something to upset you.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Thunderbolts!Reader

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: bob's self-doubt, forced love confession (cause reader is under the influence of a serum), misunderstandings, fluff

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. I didn't want to wait any longer to post this, so it hasn't been proofread, I'm sorry folks!

My first time writing for Bob!!! I hope I did him justice, and I apologize if he's a bit OOC. I'm still trying to figure him out.

marvel masterlist | main masterlist

When you had a hunch, you were usually right. 

It was like a faint whisper in your mind, guiding you through the uncertainty and helping you make the right choice just in time. You could say that instinct was your secret weapon—a trusted friend in moments when logic alone couldn't see the whole picture. Even when doubts crept in, deep down, you knew to listen to that subtle nudge that had saved you more than once.

But this time, you shut it down and ignored all the red alarms. 

Partly because you didn’t want to let the team down, and partly because you convinced yourself you were overthinking.

You pushed forward, dismissing the uneasy feeling gnawing at the back of your mind and telling yourself that everything was under control. Yet, deep inside, a small voice still murmured warnings, reminding you that ignoring your intuition could lead to unforeseen trouble.

And that was exactly what happened. 

Regardless of your abilities, certain missions challenged your boundaries, particularly those requiring retrievals from shady labs, which were your least favorite. 

You wouldn’t hesitate to fight aliens, villains from other universes, or even Valentina. But you despised slippery scientists—those who utilized their brains and intelligence to create questionable serums and conduct human trials. 

There was something about their manipulation of life itself, their blatant disregard for morality, that made your stomach churn. You had witnessed the damage firsthand—innocent lives turned into test subjects, minds warped by their greed and arrogance.

You were perceptive and quick-witted, but the tension of the moment when you broke into the lab and the so-called brain people started to fight back caught you off guard. They moved with a calculated experience that belied their appearance, more than someone who spends over 12 hours a day in a white coat, peering at cells through a microscope, would have.

Ava wasn’t fast enough to reach you in time.

And before you could react, a sharp sting shot through your leg—an injection delivered with clinical precision. You barely had time to register what was happening before the world tilted, and everything blurred around the edges. The voices of your teammates were drowned out by the deafening chaos, and then, you were fighting not only to stay conscious but also to try to understand what was being injected into you and what it might do.

Despite the circumstances that led you to the vault on that fateful day, and despite being part of a team of people just like you, as well as all the bad decisions you've made along the way, you had always considered yourself an honest person.

So being injected with a truth serum wasn’t the worst outcome, right?

But that strange sense of detachment wasn’t you. Not at all.

Your instincts, the voice in your head that usually kept you grounded, had fallen silent. They were drowned out by the serum rushing through your veins.

Your mouth moved on autopilot.

No filter.

No control.

Despite your strenuous efforts to keep them contained, words spilled out. Confessions, secrets, and fears poured forth unfiltered and raw.

And there was one confession you simply could not allow to escape.

“It’s probably just temporary,” Yelena said with a reassuring look. “We’ll run some tests when we arrive back at the tower.”

Everything would be fine.

That’s what they promised.

But you weren’t so sure of that.

You had been confined in your room for two weeks, completely isolated. There was no interaction with anyone other than Yelena, who brought you food every day. However, she remained silent, respecting your request. And you battled to keep your words contained, to preserve control over what you might say.

The atmosphere in the tower was tense and divisive, to put it mildly.

Walker thought you were overreacting; he didn’t see the big deal. So what if you couldn’t lie? Did you have something to hide?

Ava and Yelena, on the other hand, seemed sympathetic to your situation. They understood the gravity of what you were going through.

Bucky, who knew what it felt like not to be in control of what you do and say, was also empathetic. He'd even explained the predicament to Sam in hopes he could help him find a solution.

Alexei... Well, he was the same as always.

And then there was Bob.

Adorable, sweet, and awkward Bob.

He had been eagerly anticipating your return from the mission. He missed you when you were gone, even though he lacked the courage to say so out loud.

Bob was confused.

Why hadn’t you come out of your room? Why hadn’t you been around? Had you been hurt during the mission? Had he done something to upset you? Were you mad at him? 

Deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before you got tired of him.

‘You’re too much.’

‘What did you expect, idiot?’

“It was… a tough mission. She needs to be alone.” That was what Yelena had told him in an effort to soothe him, knowing how close he was to you, how much he cared, and how his feelings lingered beyond friendship.

However, her words did not have the expected effect. 

Tonight, he couldn’t endure it any longer. The nightmares had returned, creeping into his mind with a relentless, smothering power.

The darkness had once faded when he sought comfort in your presence, finding solace in your embrace. You had become his safe sanctuary, where the shadows could not reach him.

But now that refuge was gone. 

He stood outside your door, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He hesitated, unsure whether to knock or quietly retreat into the shadows. The wait stretched painfully until finally, he drew in a shaky breath, summoning every ounce of courage he had left to reach out.

“Yelena, is that you?” 

Your voice sounded faint through the door, with a tinge of hesitancy that he picked up on.

“I-I’m Bob.” 

He heard you sigh, and he knew you'd approached the door.

“Bob, it’s not a good time.”

His stomach clenched, but he pressed on, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I-I need you.” His words were filled with desperation. “I had a nightmare.”

There was no immediate answer, only a prolonged silence that seemed to last forever. For a minute, he worried if you were ignoring him, if you didn’t care enough to respond. Minutes seemed to crawl by as he remained rooted in place, caught in the stillness of the hallway. Still, he stayed there, vulnerable and trembling, hoping—praying—that somehow, you would hear his silent plea.

You slowly pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges slicing through the dense silence like a fragile whisper. The dim, flickering light from the hallway cast faint shadows across your face, accentuating the concern etched in your features. His eyes, glassy and pleading, met yours as he hesitated for a while longer.

Without fully thinking, you reached out and pulled him into your bedroom, locking the door behind him. He sank onto the edge of your bed, shoulders quivering, voice barely a whisper as he broke the silence.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes searching yours for reassurance.

You moved closer instinctively, trying to maintain your composure, fighting the urge to let anything slip. It crushed your heart to see Bob in this condition, knowing you were to blame. You were so set on avoiding him that you hadn't considered how much it would impact him not to have you at his side, especially at night.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice soothing. Reaching out, you drew him into your embrace, feeling his body relax slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder. 

He clung to you tightly. You stroked his hair, murmuring soothing words and giving him the reassurance he desperately needed.

You stayed there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he gradually found calm. The tension in his body loosened, and his heartbeat steadied into a peaceful rhythm, no longer pounding with dread. 

“Are you mad at me?” he finally asked, his voice small, almost cracking.

“What? No, of course not.”

“You've been locked in your room for two weeks.”

“I know, but—” You bite your tongue, fighting to keep the truth from spilling.

The last two weeks had been easy in some ways, since you had zero contact with anyone. But now, having Bob here with you, in your arms, looking so vulnerable and so starved of affection, your resolve wavered.

“Yelena said something went wrong during the last mission.”

“It did,” the words were out of your mouth before you realized.

‘Don’t ask what happened, please, don’t ask what happened.’

‘Don’t ask what happened, please, don’t ask what happened.’

‘Don’t ask what happened, please, don’t ask what happened.’

He stretched out gingerly, his hand trembling as he gently stroked your arm. “What happened?”

And, like clockwork, the truth spilled out again. “I was injected with a truth serum.”

Bob's eyes widened in amazement. “You–you what?”

“We were in the lab, and this guy appeared out of nowhere. I didn't see him coming. I couldn't react in time, and before I realized it, he’d injected me with a syringe.”

His expression sank as he tried to digest what you had just disclosed. “That's why you've been locked up here.”

You nodded. “I am not sure how much longer the effect will persist. And my mouth can't seem to control itself right now,” you admitted, your tone tinted with frustration. “I keep feeling like I want to say things I shouldn't—as if my thoughts are spilling out before I can stop them. It's like my brain and mouth are warring, and I can't keep the words locked inside.”

“But the team… They know, right? They wouldn’t judge you if you said too much. And it’s not like you had something to hide.” 

Bob struggled to grasp the situation and your reasoning for isolation. 

Although he had just told you that the team would not judge you, he knew Walker would probably make some snide comment, maybe even take advantage of the situation. He still believed that the guy was an asshole.

“It’s not the team I’m hiding from; it’s you.” 

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately saw the impact. It was written all over Bob’s face. And you hated yourself for hurting him, again.

“You… You are hiding from me?” He stumbled over his words, the crack in his tone reflecting the disheartened expression that washed over him. “Why?”

And then it happened. The two weeks of isolation had been pointless. You knew it the moment Bob had knocked on your door and you let him inside. There was no more running.

“Because I can’t be around you,” you started, voice trembling as the truth slipped out. “You make me nervous, and I can’t control myself around you. All I want to do is tell you how much happiness you bring into my days. And I think you’re so damn cute, like you literally make me feel butterflies, and that’s something I haven’t felt since… Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like this before.”

Bob’s eyes widened in disbelief, breath catching as your words flowed out, raw and honest, leaving him dumbfounded. He stared at you, processing, overwhelmed by your confession.

You averted your gaze, ashamed of how exposed you felt. “I’m sorry,” you admitted softly. “I don’t know how to handle these feelings, how much I care for you. I–I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. This is why I stayed away.”

“You–you like me?” He questioned, voice tentative, in astonishment. He was still trying to process what he had just heard. “Me?”

“‘Like’ isn’t even close to describing how I feel. I’m in love with you.”

You cringed as you pushed off from the bed, stepping away from him, overwhelmed by embarrassment.

This wasn’t how you were supposed to confess. You’ve ruined everything.

Fuck the lab. Fuck those scientists. Fuck the fucking truth serum.

As the weight of your words settled in, you wondered if anything could be salvaged from this moment or if the damage had already been done.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed across your arm, making you spin around to face him. His eyes searched yours, shimmering with awe, tenderness, and…hope?

“Y–You mean that?” He whispered, his voice hoarse as if afraid to believe this was actually happening.

“I cannot lie, Bob. Remember? Only the truth is being spoken here.” 

He hesitated briefly before cautiously reaching out, his hand trembling slightly as he cradled your face in his palm. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and without thinking, you leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand, and allowing yourself to fall into the moment.

“I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me.” His voice was tremulous, yet sincere. “When you’re around, everything else just… fades away. You make everything better.” He drew back just enough to stare into your eyes, his mesmerizing blue gaze seeking yours. “I–I love you, too, Y/N.”

“Really?” You were almost afraid to believe it, yet your heart skipped a beat and you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings, you know.”

“I’m not lying. I promise.”

You reached out, instinctively brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and for a moment, everything felt perfect—as if the world had stopped just for you two.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he hesitated.

You shook your head gently, “You’re not taking advantage of me. I want this. I have never wanted anything more.”

His cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but he nodded and leaned in carefully. The space between you narrowed until your lips finally met in a tentative kiss. His lips were soft against yours, just as you’d imagined. One hand clasped your cheek, his fingertips tracing the delicate curve of your jawline. The other rested on your waist, anchoring him as the kiss deepened. 

His fingers curled slightly, grasping your side with gentle firmness. You laced your fingers through his brunette locks, pulling him closer, while your other hand rested on his chest above his heart, feeling the quick throbbing beneath your palm.

As your lips parted for air, still dazed from the moment, Bob rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, eyes still closed, savoring the moment. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted softly.

Your pulse was thumping hard in your chest, not just from the kiss, but also from the exhilarating realization that this moment was merely the beginning of something new. “Me too,” you whispered.

As you both lingered in the moment, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you let out a light laugh, breaking the silence. “Well, I guess the truth serum was good for something after all,”

“I suppose so.” Bob’s lips twisted into a small, bashful smile, and he giggled softly with you.

“Come on.” You took his hand and tugged him toward your bed. “You look exhausted. Let’s get you into bed so you can finally rest properly.”

Bob snuggled beneath the covers, and you slid in beside him, pulling the blankets over both of you. 

Resting your head on his chest, you felt a sense of calm rush over you. Bob wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. You curled up closer, soaking in the warmth radiating from his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. His eyelids fluttered shut as he relaxed, and a contented sigh escaped his lips.

[golden-redhead]

I think there's a lot of signs pointing to Jayce actually doing the right thing ...or at least the right thing based on the information available to him at the time.

We can't know for a fact just how much Viktor was changed and what his healing was doing to the people who came to him in the long run, but considering all the hints dropped by the writers, the situation is much less clear than we think. Obviously, everyone's first instinct is to condemn Jayce and his actions, especially because Viktor is one of fan favourites, but looking at the teaser for the next Act and what little we know about what happened to Jayce, I think it might have been necessary evil.

I think this scene of Viktor temporarily 'possessing' Salo in order to talk with Jayce points to just how fucked this little community that Viktor created actually is. There's a reason why everyone's getting those 'it's a freaking cult' vibes.

This scene made me more uncomfortable than anything else this season and I think it's clear that it was meant to make feel that way. There's something so uncanny about Viktor's voice coming out of Salo's mouth, especially paired with that look on his face and how Viktor seems to be able to see and experience things through him in this moment.

And then there's also the issue of all these people dying a horrible drawn-out death as soon as Viktor himself 'dies'. Yes, they came to him on their own, they asked to be healed, but did they really know what they are getting into? Did they know this is what might happen?

Some of them were already dying, true, but Viktor healed all kinds of people, some of whom most likely had their whole lives ahead of them. He, knowingly or not, inevitably sped up this process. Not all of them were consummed by Shimmer-addiction or permanently disabled like Salo.

And then there's also the fact of all of them basically abandoning their previous lives to serve Viktor and his community. Which, okay, makes sense, there's certainly a parallel with the community that Ekko created for Zaunites to keep them safe from Piltover and Silco's plans. They made an informed choice, though, and I don't think the same can be said about Viktor's cult-like commute.

They seem peaceful, yes, but also devoid of personality and entirely dedicated to Viktor and his cause. Of course, it can be explained by gratitude towards him and desire to be kept safe in a calm and peaceful environment, but it's taken to such an extreme point that it definitely crosses the line into uncanny territory in my eyes. Their hivemind behaviour is very unsettling and even though Viktor seems to frame his recent actions as some kind of greater good, I don't think it's necessarily true.

We have yet to find out what Jayce saw and who's in the right and who's in the wrong. Either way, as usual when it comes to Arcane, it seems to me that more than ever, everyone's a victim of the circumstances and tragedy spares no one.

Considering that Viktor is set up to be 'reborn', I can't help but wonder what it means for his community and if they will also be brought to life by whatever connection they have with him. It would be a fascinating choice given how Viktor's arc has always been about autonomy and making your own choices.

Arcane, it's been a pleasure having my heart torn out of my chest by you. Can't wait for the last Act.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

Just a very short word vomit as I have spent far too long thinking about Captain Price faking an injury just to see his favourite doctor.

————————-

John Price has got years on him.

Enough to know how to play the game. Enough to know how to work the system just a little in his favour. Life experience has given him knowledge, skill, but it’s also given him something a little worse — something that creeps out into the lines around his eyes, the grey peppering his beard, the way he carries himself like he’s lived through every war this world has to offer — lets him move like he’s still in the trenches, like he hasn’t left them even when the fight is over.

Assurance.

It’s practically pouring out of his pores as you rush in — frantic as ever given the late hour and the way your assistant was practically sobbing over the supposed state of him — all to find the man sitting on the stretcher, looking right as rain save for the crimson coating his chest.

At first glance you gather it’s not all his, or at least, not much of it. The dark stain coats his sleeve, a cranberry smear streaking up his neck, lost in the shadow of his collar. You hardly realize you’re just silently staring until he exhales through his nose, amusement seeping somewhere between the showcased exhaustion.

“Y’alright, love?”

You blink. Then scoff. He’s asking you if you’re alright?

“You’re the one bleeding on my floor.”

Price hums, pushing off the stretcher to stand, shrugging off his vest with a wince that looks a little like it’s more for show than anything else.

“Y’gonna patch me up, or just stand there lookin’ pretty?”

That gets your attention. Assured. Typical Price but unusual given the circumstances. You’ve seen enough shot soldiers to know the last thing he should be doing right now is dotting.

Your eyes narrow as you grab for the med kit, pulling it open with a snap. “You actually get shot, or just feeling homesick?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he just watches, waves rocking in the depths of his eyes as you reach for his sleeve, steady fingers brushing blood-stiff fabric. Somewhere between searching for the wound and noticing the lack of bloodshed, you falter — because something isn’t adding up, because you’ve treated enough wounds to know when someone is worse off than they let on, and Price — despite the mess of him, isn’t nearly as injured as he’d told your team he was.

And judging by the way he smiles, he knows you’ve figured it out.

“John.” You wish you sounded more stern, but that cursed thing on his lips is contagious, and he’s given it to you like the plague. “You’re not hurt.”

A beat. Then, he tilts his head, meeting your eyes.

“No,” he admits. “M’not.”

[cleo-fox]

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

*

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

*

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

*

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

*

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

*

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

*

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky. 

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core. 

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature. 

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter. 

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long. 

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss.  He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess (pt. 2)

[<- part 1]

"What do you mean-" Jason starts, but the girl is already tapping her ear briefly - and only now does he notice a tiny comm there. Fuck, he should have known.

"Oscar? I changed my mind, I want to claim something," Jazz says easily, and, after a short pause, "A Tecpatl, the one with the owl. No, it's for personal reasons- You don't have to, but alright." She taps her ear again, and Jason can't help but ask:

"Who's Oscar?" He is not jealous. He is just insanely curious and very confused.

"My bodyguard," Jazz rolls her eyes, "At least he thinks he is. I'd say he is more of a secretary."

That doesn't really explain anything. It actually just adds even more questions - what kind of a magic user needs a bodyguard? or a secretary, for that matter? - but Jason keeps them to himself for now. He is... kind of intrigued now. Jazz said 'claim', not 'buy'. Which might be just a weird word choice, but somehow, Jason thinks it was deliberate.

A bald, black-skinned guy in a black suit and sunglasses - which, seriously, how does he even see a thing in here with those on - makes his way through the crowd and stops in front of Jazz, nodding slightly to her.

"Lady Phantom, I understand you want to make an impression, but using your status for personal matters-"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Oscar?" Jazz's voice doesn't change. It's still pleasant and sweet, and she is still smiling, if just a bit, but there's an unmistakable steel edge to her tone now. Jason feels a light shiver run down his spine. He's seen Jazz in a lot of different situations and circumstances; he's seen her get mad at a librarian who banned some controversial books in the public library, and he's seen her skillfully take down an armed robbery in a shop all by herself, and he's even seen her successfully stare down Killer Croc on one occasion.

Yet, he's never seen her like this, with her chin raised up high and radiating authority like she is the most powerful person in the room.

Also, Lady Phantom?..

"No," Oscar admits after a pause and presses his lips together, "But the Council of Ancients will not be pleased."

"Council of Ancients couldn't care less even if I declared war," Jazz brushes the comment off, and Jason's levels of confusion are growing higher and higher with every word they exchange. Oscar sighs and finally complies:

"Very well, then," he breathes out with a sense of surrender, and then turns his head to Jason just slightly, "Is this an urgent matter, or should I go talk to the auctioneer and the sellers?"

Jazz looks to Jason, raising her eyebrows in question. And, technically, it's not that much of a time crunch now since Jason doesn't have to try and sneak through the security or wait for the auction to start officially. But he feels a bit petty. Also, this man was questioning his girlfriend, which is offensive on many levels in Jason's opinion.

So, he nods, "Urgent."

Oscar's face doesn't change one bit, but Jason has plenty of experience with emotionally inept men who look like they are eternally constipated. He can see the traces of exasperation in Oscar's shoulders.

"Follow me, then," he tells them both, and turns around, headed to the back of the auction rooms. There's security there, but Oscar only shows them some kind of a badge, and they step aside, letting the three of them through. As far as Jason knows, no FBI or CIA agents should have that kind of clearance.

Which finally prompts him to ask the most important question as soon as the doors behind them close and it's only them three going through an empty hallway.

"Who are you?" He asks Jazz, who is still keeping her hand on his elbow. The girl hums, not looking at him, and keeps walking after Oscar.

"Jasmine Fenton," she answers, and, yes, he knows that much. He's seen the files Bruce has on her, but at this point, he is not even sure how much of the info in there was actually true.

"You are in the presence of Jasmine Fenton, Lady of the House Phantom, Princess of Infinite Realms and sister to a King," Oscar supplies, and his voice is... a bit petty. Like he knows Jazz didn't want him to say anything, but he still did just because he could.

Jazz huffs and rolls her eyes, "Yes, that, too."

Jason blinks.

He's heard about Infinite Realms. Mostly rumors through the grapevine of Leaguers, but also from Diana personally - he remembers her saying she is glad about having a truce with them. He didn't listen much since she explained it as the Underworld, the Land of the Dead, so he thought she was talking about some mythology shit. Turns out it wasn't.

But there's a more important thing.

"I'm dating a princess," he says to no one in particular as they come to a stop in front of one of the doors.

"Technically, you'll be treated as my consort if you ever decide to visit," Jazz admits, and Jason is officially out of surprised responses. There's only a limited amount of bafflement he can feel in a day, and he has exhausted the resources.

He is a royal consort of the Underworld princess. Sure, why not.

The room they step into after Oscar puts in some code into the lock is filled with boxes, packages, and crates. Jason looks around - sure, he knew all the prettily displayed artifacts back in the auction room were only replicas, but he didn't expect the originals to be literally just stacked in piles in the back room. Yet, here they are.

Oscar looks around the room and confidently makes his way to one of the shelves on the side, quickly going through the labels on the containers.

"Do you have, like, a crown?" Jason asks because he sucks at small talk. Also because he doesn't know what else he is supposed to ask in this kind of situation. Jazz snorts and leans to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not really. Danny has one, and it looks absolutely badass, with flames on top of it, like the ones you would see in cartoons. I have some tiaras and stuff, but they are just jewelry," she explains, and Jason nods sagely. Just jewelry, alright. Seems like he is simply destined to be surrounded by rich people from all sides.

"How about a castle?"

This gets a sigh out of Jazz, "We used Pariah's - that's the previous King - old one for the coronation ceremony, but mostly, it's just for storage. Both Danny and I live on Earth, and Dani, our little sister, travels a lot. So, I do, and I don't at the same time."

"What about-" Jason starts, but he is cut off by Oscar all but shoving a small box in his hands, "Oh. Do I-" he turns to his girlfriend awkwardly, "Do I have to pay you for it or..."

"No, it's from a dead civilization," she raises her head back and shakes it slightly, but after seeing Jason's frown, she elaborates, "I'm the Princess of the Dead. I can officially claim anything that belongs to the dead as mine."

"It's a law that is supposed to resolve any possible conflicts between the denizens of Infinite Realms and the living," Oscar supplies, his voice disapproving. Alright, makes sense why he said it was not for personal matters, then. Not that it's going to stop Jason, though.

"Like, anything?" He punctuates, and Jazz tilts her head, a sly smile on her lips.

"Sure."

"Lady Phantom," Oscar sighs, tired and chastising, but Jason doesn't plan on robbing the auction. At least not robbing it any more than they already did.

He has a different idea.

"Can you ask Batman for the Robin's suit he has in his cave?"

Jazz blinks, and then her smile turns into a full-on grin.

"Of course."

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

@akuworld777

[worflesbian]

the worfzia pregnancy plotline is horrendous primarily bc it was tacked on just before jadzia's death in an attempt to make it sadder, equating the worth of a woman's life to her potential to have children, but like even if they hadn't killed her off right after it would still have sucked bc it's so obviously written as the obvious next step after heterosexual marriage and not like, a life-changing decision for two people to make. first of all, worf has already had a child and it went horrendously, his relationship with alexander is rocky and he feels immense guilt about not being there for him in his formative years, and you're telling me him and jadzia had a brief chat about having kids and he was cool with it? once again no one seems to have a looser grasp of worf's storyline than the people who allegedly wrote it. the disparity between his limited experience of parenting and jadzia's several lifetimes worth is also interesting but of course that doesn't come up either. secondly, jadzia's family have almost never been mentioned before, i've seen people theorize that the joining process caused a rift between them as it wouldve been hard to cope with her becoming an almost completely different person - would jadzia's relationship to her own parents not have been pertinent to bring up as she decides to become a parent herself? how does she feel about becoming a mother in this lifetime, now that there's a war on, when presumably all the previous times have been under much stabler circumstances? would anyone bring that up as a concern, what kind of world that child might be born into? how would she react to that? thirdly, julian says that back before she and worf got married he and jadzia discussed this and he told her a trill-klingon pregnancy would be almost impossible, yet she seems determined to make it happen anyway - this is the most in-character part of the whole episode for her imo, because it's very like jadzia to disregard the odds and fight for what she wants, but also, she's literally the science officer, and while biology isn't her number one field it would've at least been interesting for her to bring up her own research on the subject to counter julian's warning.

there's just so much missing from that episode, it feels like a plotline ripped out of some generic soap and pasted onto the characters we know and love, flattening all the things that make them who they are into the vague shape of a random straight couple

[gravity-barbie]

There's only one bed HCs

Featuring: Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Viktor, Lila, Sparrow!Ben & Sloane

A/N: This isn’t a request, I just had to post the fluffiest prompt I could after s4. Also, the umbrella’s characterisation in this is very s1 inspired.

Masterlist

Luther Hargreeves

-Luther is immediately very flustered, you’d think he just stumbled out of the middle ages with how concerned about propriety he is in this situation, and he can barely form a coherent sentence

-He offers to take the floor, but if you do the same and/or insist on sharing he’ll quickly compromise on the latter if for no other reason than not wanting to disagree with you, but that decision has his heart racing a mile a minute

-He feels very self-conscious about taking up most of the bed, so any reassurance from you that you’re comfortable, or better yet, like his closeness absolutely melts him

-He stays half awake all night, too afraid of doing something embarrassing in his sleep to get any proper rest, but his contentment to just enjoy your nearness still makes it one of the best nights of his life

-Since he was already awake (and he’s a total sweetheart) he gets up early to scavenge you two up a breakfast in the morning, enjoying this slice of domesticity with you a little longer

Diego Hargreeves

-Diego says he’ll take the floor, but if you even slightly question that choice he gets embarrassed and defensive, suggesting you two share the bed just to prove that he ‘doesn’t care’

-Obviously he does care, outwardly he keeps his cool, but on the inside he’s swarming with butterflies like he’s a teenager

-As much as he tries to appear aloof, he’s actually being so considerate, checking if you’re comfortable more than once and making sure he isn’t touching you at all

-He’s not the easiest sleeper, tense and alert, and at first lying next to his crush doesn’t exactly help, but as the two of you talk and banter a little, the tension starts to defuse and he actually finds your presence very soothing

-He’s the type to get cuddly in his sleep, much to his shame and annoyance in the morning, he doesn’t let himself enjoy the amazing feeling of holding you in his arms for even a full minute before he’s scrambling back to his side of the bed and pretending to be asleep

Allison Hargreeves

-Allison can be a grown up about this, there’s only one bed, why wouldn’t you share it? She’s not indifferent but she doesn’t overanalyse the situation either

-She gladly embraces the domesticity of the scenario though, drawing out her nightly routine, and getting chattier than usual, trying to savor this experience that she’s wanted for so long

-She’s also trying to make sure you feel at ease too, figuring if you do feel awkward, that’ll fade as the two of you talk and unwind

-She is prone to nightmares, so don’t be surprised if you’re startled awake in the middle of the night and put in the unenviable position of trying to ease her, but she for one is very glad that it’s you she wakes up to

-Speaking of waking up, sunrise is the peak of this experience for her, feeling yours and her tangled limbs, seeing how peaceful you look while you sleep, it's the kind of moment she understands the importance of cherishing

Klaus Hargreeves

-Klaus suggests sharing, he’s slept under way more awkward circumstances next to people he’s felt way more uncomfortable around, it’s really no big deal

-He has to remind himself to keep his thoughts PG a couple of times and can’t get through the night without making at least one innuendo but overall he is respectful and won't likely make you uncomfortable

-Though he can keep his thoughts clean it's harder to keep them platonic, the longing he feels being so close to you is nearly overwhelming and he wishes so badly that the context was different

-With you by his side he sleeps more peacefully than he has in… ever, it actually kind of amazes him

-He's in no rush to leave your side in the morning, the sleep clouding his brain making him all too willing to forget his reservations and cuddle up to you for as long as you'll have him

Viktor Hargreeves

-Ever the gentleman, Viktor immediately offers to take the floor, but he feels quite heart-warmed by you insisting on sharing

-Even platonically the intimacy of sharing a bed means so much to someone as affectionate starved as him, but with the added context of you being his crush this experience feels like a mini miracle

-He's pretty nervous though, triple checking that you're okay with this and minimizing his own space as much as possible when he gets into bed

-He relaxes with some reassurance and the two of you quickly get comfortable, starting up a random conversation that's meant to segway into sleep but could keep you talking all night if you're not careful

-As opposed to the anxious start to the night, waking up next to each other feels like the most natural thing in the world

Lila Pitts

-Lila's thrilled, she doesn’t immediately suggest sharing but she makes it clear she’s not sleeping on the floor and is all too happy to accommodate you if you won't either

-If you do try to give her the bed and take the floor though she stops playing coy and basically tells you to grow up and share with her, insisting it’s no big deal

-But to her it is a big deal, honestly she can't believe she didn't plan this herself it's that perfect, she can barely fight back an unending smile

-Though keeping things sfw she does lay the flirting on thicker than usual and pays close attention to how you react to that and the situation you're in throughout the night

-As bold as she is she isn't actually used to this kind of closeness and the intimacy of sleeping next to her crush does start making her slightly nervous, but luckily your presence has a way of making her feel better

Ben Hargreeves

-Ben’s not exactly a go with the flow type, if you’re put in a position where there’s meant to be two beds and there’s only one, he’s gonna try to get his other bed

-Ands it’s only after all his demands fall on deaf ears that he even registers the implications of sharing the one, nervousness quickly sets in but he tries not to show it, avoiding looking at you and giving his usual sass

-He does offer you the bed, sounding more begrudging than he actually is, it’s actually his preferred solution, cause as spoiled as he acts he could never sleep comfortably at your expense

-But of course you insist on sharing and as soon as he’s laying next to you, he confirms what a bad idea this was, he’s just as flustered as he feared he would be, maybe more so

-He pretends to fall asleep as soon as possible so you won’t catch on to how he’s feeling, but actually he’s awake and on edge for hours

Sloane Hargreeves

-Sloane has encountered this scenario in more than one romance novel before, so her brain just goes wild with the possibilities

-You’re the one to suggest sharing the bed, and it absolutely melts her heart, it's sweet and it's a relief to know you're comfortable being this close to her

-She always has a hard time hiding her crush on you, but she’s never been so flustered before, the butterflies in her stomach verge on painful

-But she's also giddy and her contagious enthusiasm guarantees the two of you will have a good night, your energy is half 'slumber party' and half 'married couple's nightly routine'

-The experience is wonderful for not just Sloane but you as well, because even if you didn't have a crush on her before, spending a night with her surely makes you realize you want to spend many more with her

[deesseshesca]

PAC: How do y’all feel about each other sexual energy ? (18+)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~3 )

Haven't slept since last night...

Hello Chérie d'Amour !

How y'all doing ? Hope those last few days have been treating u better than me. When it comes to me is time for me to take a real break. I'm going to be inactive for a month. I am so sorry for my single babe since birth, it was finally your turn to thrive but don't worry, I try to create some good juicy content before I leave for a moment. All readings will be on sale up until this weekend because of recession. I feel like you guys need to catch a break but keep in mind you will only receive the product in May 2025. In April everything will to back to regular prices. That being said, I hope April brings you nothing but success.

MUCH LOVE,

SHESCA.

PILE 1 

YOU : You feel that he has experiences and you are one on his list of potential lovers. I am not going to lie before I even get further, this does not feel like romantic love. It could be platonic love with sex (FWB or sexual arrangement) at least from your side. I don't know if that's how y’all relationships begin or how it was always supposed to be. Ahhh… now lets go. You can sense the deep desire he has for you. Maybe he has prey eyes when he lays them on you. May have possessive  mannerism  with you. Also may tell you to go around and tell others you are his because he hates the thought that anyone can even think they have a chance with you. I just heard: “ You are too pretty for your own good”. You do applaud the fact that he never cares and always show you off no matter the circumstance. Not the type to be disrespectful. May actually be quite the feminist not the performative kind. You may never think he cares so much for women rights because he dont look like it. May have a darker or alternative aesthetic. If not then has the aesthetic of somebody that dont care for women rights : pick up car, bible verse tatted, country accent and love hunting. Actually very emotionally available yet avoidant. Which mean he can express himself and can be transparent with his feelings. Probably dealt with his childhood trauma, not the type to ghost after fucking you. Actually take care of you and give some aftercare. Asking you if you are "ok", before the act and after. Clean you up and tell you he leaves before doing it so you dont wake up feeling funny. Would hate for you to feel use. Avoidant because he can't see himself being in a relationship because he dont think he deserves it. You can feel all this by the way he treats you right but can't seem to give you the title you desire. Want you to be his, act like you are his and don't mess with other people, yet don't want to ask you out properly. You can feel like his manifesting you. What I mean by that, is that you are going to see him grow. From running from you, to trying, to loving you and appreciating you. He wants you, you can see it in his eyes, his actions and his words. You feel like one of most prize objects in his life, he treats you as such and you know that you are all he wants.  Also he has a big dick. To my virgin babe don't worry, he is no monster. Will probably do a lot of foreplay and y'all may also have many nights that all you do is oral sex prepping for the big gun. If you are a virgin, he is very scared of hurting you. 

HIM : 

Before anything : I hear and see you caressing his cheek while saying: “My baby, my baby…” with a sad tone. 

They fucking love is crazy. At first I was unsure and I would be the first to tell you to run the fuck away from something, y’all know me. I don't play those games. 

HE FUCKING LOVES EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ! The way you look, the color of your hair, your hairstyle, if is curly or not, the color of your eyes, the way it light up, the shape of your face, the face you make when he fuck you, he loves you body, every inch. Clothes or nah, he is fucking turn on all the time when it comes to you. The style you have, nails or nah, lashes or nah, makeup or nah, shave or nah. He loves the sound of your voice, the moan you make when he's thrusting deep into you, the way you talk dirty and the way you tease him with nudes, the way  you end up play hard to get it just for the fuck of it. The reality is you guys meet when he just came out of the dark night of the soul. He just fought suicidal thought maybe even survive an attempt. He may be clean from self harm tendency or his sober from substances. He’s still in woods but his not dancing with the devil no more. You are going to force your way into his life. He is a loner and he dont like to mingle but you are coming in with your zest for life … LOL ! What you don't know is that you are the sun of his life. Just by existing you bring him all the joy, life never thought worth giving him. Don't get me wrong it aint co-dependent. He doesn't live because of you. Nah he lived so he could found you. Going back to him, he is too fucking tired to start fighting his avoidant issue but without realizing it he will be growing with you. You are going to enter his life when he is in the 8 cup era( me : surprise the card did not come up) , like he let go of something but he is not yet sure of the next path but knows he must leave so he did. Your warmth  ( dang all I wanted was the sex … here I am in love reading) is something he yearns for. He will often hit you  up, so he can spend your work break with you in his car so you guys can cuddle. He will hit up after work so he can see you. He will beg to see you. Not for sex just to sleep. If he has night terror, you make them stop. Don't worry you ain't got no super power, it's just because he feels safe in your embrace. In my visions regarding your couple, he is always sleeping. Damn y’all fav spot is your bedroom. Lol … babe don't take it personally but he see you as a liability. No job asking for princess treatment just eating and using all his money. He would love how wet you get. You are going to make him feel like his dick has super power in the bedroom because he can make you squirt. To my virgin no worries is actually bound to happen since he's big and you go that WAP. You guys may develop a size kink together. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Your first & maybe only love reaction to seeing you naked for the first time (Babe gather your coins because there's no more free content in the future, xoxo.)

PILE 2

YOU : You feel as tho he has a breeding kink. He loves nutting in you or loves seeing his cum on your tits, your butt, stomach or your face. A fan of facial. You may have a very pretty face, a bit childish, don't worry he aint a pedophile. You have a round face, very chubby cheek, and round deer eyes, may have a rather coquette or very feminine aesthetic. I am seeing light makeup, you may like to get doll up before y’all fuck. Don't act all innocent; you enjoy seeing the aftermath of y’all encounter. You get all doll up, so you can see the wig lifting (if you wear one), your makeup mush, you lips red, the hickeys on your body  or even like seeing your clothes tear down on the floor after the act is over (me: you guys are literally the representation of the quote : I love pink, violence and sex). You know he has a good sex reputation. He may have been a player until he decided to settle with you. You knew it and he never tried to hide it. If you guys do end up break up, he is forever going to be the best sex you ever had. The man knows what the fuck he is doing. You are not here for the sex tho. He knows it. You are here because he get you. Maybe people around expected you to act a certain way, you may attend private school, may be the oldest sibling in your family, may hold a job with power, whatever the situation is, you are held to a higher standard than the rest. Some of you may be the daughter of a pastor or religious important figure. With him, you get open up and even do stuff that would not be allowed by people around you. Having sex may be forbidden in your family before marriage. You may also smoke with him and drink 2. You guys talk to each other about hardship and he just gets it. The thing is pile 2, is like you guys are living in a golden cage. You have gone through so much trauma but you can't talk about it because there's almost a policy of : “ you hear nothing, see nothing and speak of nothing” in y’all family. I’m hearing the song of Pretty Little Liars. They have a darker aesthetic and they are more of a loner so you would think they are the one with the destructive habits but is all you. Now that I’m thinking about it, you may be the only one smoking and drinking when y'all are together and he just makes sure you don't go overboard. You may actually be the one asking him to go this hard in the bedroom. What's funny (not really), you don't feel like he loves you for you. You think, I am writing black on white, you think he only loves you for your tight pussy. You know I dont stand for BS so imma be very honest babes. He aint the problem. Y’all seriously hate yourself very deeply. It's really sad. I did not say I pity you but it breaks my heart, sensing the depth in which you hate your own gut. You see him as an enemie. Almost as a war weapon … I aint playing Chérie d’Amour. You make me think of the way Katniss thought of Peeta in the book of Hunger Games (the first ones). In reality, you don't think no one could ever love you. 

PS : You also feel like he is very emotional. Is easy for him to cry and he doesn't hide himself when he does so. He would cry a front of a kid show or while listening to the news. He may actually stay from the news because he easily absorbs emotions around that. A truth empath … LOL ! He is very loving in the way he dirty speak, I am hearing: “ Look at me …”, “ Is ok I’m here …”, “ You are doing amazing love …” 

HIM: 

I ain't going to lie, this is toxic. Not the yelling, verbally or physically abusive type of toxic. No breaking each other's spirit . Is more the type he wants to save you from you  and you are incapable to stop destroying yourself. Don't get him wrong, he ain't got no savior complex but he sees so much potential in you… yet all you see is his flaws and nothing is really changing your mind. If he is the one reading … RUN ! But since is you, there's nothing I can do but watch. Congrats you have manifested your first relationship  ( I swear I mean it with no sarcasm). There's a lot of lessons here. This may be your wake up call because you are the one closest on in this PAC getting in a relationship. May even happening this Aries season. Is not a matter of “if” but a matter of “when”. 

He feel like you have a facade because he can sense all you truly crave is softeness. You don't actually want this hardcore sex, you want something softer. Otherwise you will want to be degrated, the fact that you prefer him talking in a softer tone, caressing you and holding you when the act is done shows your true intention. You hide behind that tough cover. In front of people you play the perfect innocent daughter while in front of him you play this though women that nothing sacred anymore. He can also feel that you are disgusted by the fact that you do desire love and affection. He doesn't want you just for your tight pussy. He love the depth you have and the beauty you hold. You are a very pretty babe in his eyes, the prettiest woman he ever laid his gaze  upon. Also he’s in love with the poetic tone you give to your pain. You could quite literally love writing  poems or being a writer in your free time. You may play an instrument or love singing. He enjoys listening to you talking about philosophy for hours even tho he doesn't always agree with you. For him, you guys together are the embodiment of the song : Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey. He feels like you are wasting your time with him. You deserve so much more than him. He ain't going nowhere. He feels like you only want him close to you just so you can hurt him. You wish you could destroy people around you but instead you keep hurting his love with fake promises and treating him like he is replaceable. He won't leave because he actually enjoys this arrangement.  If it is the only way for him to have you then that is how it must be. He may have a Mars in Scorpio or in Pisces. 

PS : Now I understand, he aint innocent either. While you destroy yourself with hate, substance and sex. He destroys himself by finding people he knows are going to hurt him. Is more than the victim complex, is the martyr. If he aint in pain then he ain't living. Right now in the spiritual world you are like falling stars colliding into each other and nobody is stopping you because there's life changing lessons that must happen. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Your first & maybe only love reaction to seeing you naked for the first time(Babe gather your coins because there's no more free content in the future, xoxo.)

PILE 3 

YOU: You are extremely grateful for all his exes. You thank them for the way they tame his masculinity and raise him to be an amazing bf. You are grateful for his sisters for showing what is it to actually deal a real women. Most importantly his mom for making him a gentleman. You feel like he loves trying new stuff in the bedroom and dont mind doing it in places that are not traditional. Everytime he grabs you, you don't know in which position you are going to be. He may love going round after rounds with no break ( me : Shit that a whole workout). May be the type to start making out in the car in broad day light with the windows down because he never gave a fuck. Will probably introduce you to sex toys, nothing crazy ladies. He ain't your BDSM type at all but his masculinity never was scared of a pink dildo or a rose toy ( amen to that !). You feel like he has multiple options. You see people flirting with him in front of you like you don't exist. You may keep your relationship private because when you post him, people add him with no shame. Also you applaud the effort he put in the bedroom. He put in the work. Coming in with new techniques  like the pillow or the bear hug. There's something about the way his hip moves, like he is going to hit your g-spot like nobody damn business. Over and over again at that. 

PS : Your first relationship may be an interracial one. For him, you're the first woman of that race he actually dated, not that he found you kind ugly, he just never had a chance to date one of y’all. Also don't worry, no fetishes, purely in love with learning your culture with respect. 

HIM :He feels like you have no idea of your sexual needs. Don't get him wrong,  he knows you are a virgin so you don't know how to move but the problem is that you don't seem to even know what you want. It's almost like you have literally no idea what sex is. Like a new concept falling from the sky. You are acting like you are a pre-teen who just now learned about sex. On the other hand he enjoys the way you are spontaneous many claim to be but they are not. There's a difference between being spontaneous and adventurous and people don't seem to know it. He loves the way you are down for anything at any moment. Which he always craved and missed in his last relationship. Going back to what I wrote, he feels like you are like a doll with no opinion. You just go with whatever he says with no real back bone. You don't tell him if you like what he just did. You don't show different emotions depending on different position or touch. You are just here looking at him nodding. He enjoys your moans but would prefer if you could appreciate him more in the bedroom. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't expect you to have the vocabulary of a porn star but tell him he's doing a good job. Telling him is hitting the right spot, telling him he's handsome and telling him you have been craving him. At the end of the day he aint stress because he is sure y’all are going to figure it out. It's just the beginning of your sexual journey and he knows with time and patience you are going to open up to him. 

PS: He knows you are nervous. The first time y’all are going to do it, you may actually be anxious. I see you looking around nervous and having jabbing movements. You will open up about the fact that you are not sure you can satisfy him. What you don't realize is just the thought of you, turning him on sooooo bad. He can't sleep without taking a cold shower because he is always sexually frustrated when it comes to you. You are literally his dream girl. Trust me babe, no need to worry, you are his female fantasy. 

PREVIOUS READING

2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Your first & maybe only love reaction to seeing you naked for the first time(Babe gather your coins because there's no more free content in the future, xoxo.)

PILE 4 

YOU : You love the fact that he makes you feel wanted. You feel like you are the object of his desire. He makes you feel like he can't make a move without you in his life. Without you his life ain't complete. He makes you feel super sexy, always begging you for a pic of you. Not caring if it is a selfie, a nude or even just an OOTD. I see you taking a bunch of pictures that you keep in a folder for when he is needy of your presence but can't be near. Also you can sense how he gets no pleasure being in the dominant role of the relationship. For some of y’all, he will take the lead in public. For the other in this pile, he will be walking around unafraid to show how much of a simp he is.For the first type, he may be very tall and loves going to the gym. He cares for the finer things in life, I see luxurious cars and watches. He may work a white collar job and hold a title of power ranging from manager to CEO. Not the time to talk a lot, have a rather deep voice and have a mug face normally. While for the other he’s a student, shorter, may be older than you but have a baby  face. The first one would be the type to text you that he is waiting at your door, giving you unexpected surprise and making sure everyone knows you are taken because he is possessive. While the other may be the type to follow you around, be down with all your sidequest, take your picture like one of your fans and always have this fool expression on his face when it comes to you. You may tell him what to do but he will always pay for everything and give you the princess treatment. They both have something in common, they love to be dominated. Love it when you play with them. Edge theme, tell them “no” just to hear them whine, don't worry it won't be on your first time but will love it when you use toys on them 2. Will love it even more if you bound them in beautiful pink ribbons. Loves when you challenge them not to make a single noise or they wont get to fuck you tonight. They make you feel love. There's not a single doubt in your mind and others that he loves you. By the way he acts, speaks about you when you ain't there or even takes care of you like  you are the most delicate being on this planet. Whether it be with letters, text you poem, buy flowers or when he travels and always comes back with something that reminds them of you. The way they refuse to end FaceTime because they want to sleep and wake up to you. Scream to any women approaching  them that their fucking taken may wear a fake marriage ring to seal the deal because the mere fact that other women may flirt with them piss them off. 

PS : The biggest munch alive. Will literally cry if you don't let them taste your delicious pussy. 

HIM:He knows you are very strict, you don't play mind games. Your standard are high and you don't mind cutting a man off mid date, mid convo or even relationship if you don't feel respected. At the same time he knows your love can never go bad. You are not really the type to talk about the feelings, you are more the type to show it in your actions. The fact that you bake  for him, your eyes light up when you look at him, your voice softens when you speak to him or even the way your body relaxes when you touch him. On the other hand, he still can sense a blockage in you. It's like you are always waiting for him to fail. You never allow yourself to enjoy the bliss of this relationship. Waiting for him to become abusive, waiting for him to start yelling, waiting for him to start breaking shit around or even start cheating. Just so you can say : “ I knew it ! You can't trust this man, frl, frl.” The issue with this way of thinking is undervaluing the efforts put in by your partner and he also makes him feel like he is constantly passing a test. That may be a big red flag for him that he will consider the worthiness in longevity in your relationship. I see him entering the relationship knowing he found the one. I also sense he can let go, if he ever feels like he can't give you what you truly desire.

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2. PAC (FREE ) : PAC : Your first & maybe only love reaction to seeing you naked for the first time(Babe gather your coins because there's no more free content in the future, xoxo.)

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #23: The Custody Battle Turned Romance

A freshly resurrected Jason is found by Single Dad Danny raising a de-aged Dan and Dani who goes "surely one more kid can't hurt?" and takes him in. Danny helps him deal with his catatonia, trauma amnesia, and other side effects of being undead without the need for a Lazarus Pit.

He takes the kid to a therapist Jazz recommended and supports him thoughout his recovery. They did some bloodwork and found out pretty early on he was The Jason Todd-Wayne but then he decided not to reach out and let Jason decided what he wanted once he was recovered.

Danny, Ellie and Jordan love and treat him like family in a way he's never quite had before even with Bruce. They’re just so open and honest about their feelings and never make him feel out of place. So when Danny ask if he’d like to reconnect with the Waynes or stay with the them, Jason chooses to stay with them.

The world has moved on around them, and so has the Batfam. Jason knows about Tim (and talked through his feelings in therapy). He knows about the foundation Bruce created in his memory and the way he very publicly grieved. He witnessed the news over Nightwing nearly beating the Joker to death. He knows enough to decided it’s better to let the dead remain dead. Instead, he becomes Jason Nightingale, eldest adopted son of a mechanic in the Narrows. The family welcomes him with open arms officially accepting him as a brother and son.

Danny supports Jason to finish his high school and college education and Jason decides to be a doctor as an homage to Thomas Wayne and aspires open a free clinic like Leslie Thompkins. They get his death certificate revoked under circumstances of resurrection (which is a thing that actually exists in public documents due to the resurrections that tend to happen in the DC universe) and legally adopt him so that he can go back to school. However, Batman monitors public records to a degree and this gets flagged in the system bc it’s Jason’s death certificate.

Suspicious, but optimistic Bruce informs the rest of the family what he has found out and ask them to come as back up for when he goes to find Jason. He’s investigated and is sure that the family who helped rehabilitate Jason is clean and nice people but he wants his son back. They others also wanna see Jason but are worried if this is a good idea since Jason hasn’t reach out himself and there is paperwork for an adoption in the system. But Bruce decides to track them down anyway.

Bruce shows up as the Nightingale’s door and asks to see Jason. Danny, sympathetic, agrees on the condition Jason wants to see him. Jason is hesitant, but decided it would be good way for both of them to get closure and agrees. Bruce and Jason have a tearful reunion and a long heartfelt conversation at the end of which Bruce says “Let’s go home son”. To which Jason has to awkwardly break it to him, but he has no intention of leaving the Nightingale’s and returning to the Manor. He lets him know that he’s open to meeting the rest of the family at least once more but that Danny is his dad now and Ellie and Jordan are his little siblings.

Bruce is devastated.

He lets the rest of the family know and they all make their visits while Bruce wallows in despair. Normally he wouldn let it go, but he just can’t stand to lose Jason another time. So he decides to take Danny to court in the hopes of getting visitation rights if not split custody.

It’s one of the weirdest cases to hit the Gotham courts: two dads who were never together in any capacity but aren’t antagonistic of each other, are trying to come to a custody agreement over their adopted resurrected child in family court.

Over the course of the court case Bruce sees what a good dad Danny is and bonds with his two “bio” kids. Meanwhile Danny gets to meet Dick, Tim, and Cass (Bruce’s legal kids as of rn) and gets to talk to them about their experiences with Bruce and how much they want to form/reform relationships with Jason. They do form a healthy respect for each other, and accept each other’s places in Jason’s life.

Court case ends up working out in favor of Danny. It’s split custody but he gets custody of Jason majority of the time (as per Jason’s own wishes) and Bruce and the Wayne's still have partial custody and open contact with the Nightingales.

Over the years kids all start to see each other as siblings and both Bruce and Danny as their dads. By the time Damian shows up Bruce and Danny have been functionally co-parenting each others kids for years. They provide support to each other’s kids that the other parent may not be well equipped to, but helping each other improve.

When Damian does arrive his superiority complex is quickly curbed and Bruce puts him into counseling on Danny and Jason’s recommendation. It takes a while, but Damien slowly finally opens up and gets to act like a real kid. Ellie and Jordan, who are around the same age (maybe a bit younger?), love having him over to roughhouse and play princesses/knights/dragons (but with politics and consequences). Sometimes they’ll go out and trick people into thinking they’re triplets.

It’s actually Damien who first suggests parent-trapping Bruce and Danny so that they can be one big family. He obviously gets Dan and Ellie to agree first. Then the three of them bag Tim and Cass. The five of them approach Dick next. Jason is actually the hardest to convince but the manage to get his approval. Thus, these guys try to set up the Oblivious Danny and the Emotionally Constipated Bruce.

And for Flavor, just when it looks like they’re about to get together, one of their past love interests comes into the mix, re-entering their parents’ live just to stir the pot. (Which ex is up to your imagination: Sam, Talia, Val, Selina, Tucker, Wes, Minhkhoa, Harvey)