#fluorescent security

[neon-glowing-rainbow-stims]

⚡ ~ You're My Superstar ~ ⚡(DaRegularSauce)

(Credit if you use please) (ko-fi)

[flare-starling]

Fluorescent Stars Au! This is a beta version of it but I’ll make little info drawings soon and little comics! I didn’t make a fanfic about it. (yet)

Hope you enjoy the art! :]

[atlantis-just-drowned]

Where is the secret third option ? (helping the DCAs to clean and decorate their room)

[bitchapalooza]

I think I’m gonna start doing this “silent quitting” thing in silent protest ❤️

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

���How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

��Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

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[pathologicalreid]

separation anxiety | S.R.

spencer's first case back from paternity leave involves children, so a concerned party reaches out to you for help

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, vaguely described breastfeeding, word count: 1.28k a/n: this is technically the reid family from cryptic, but you don't have to read cryptic in order to understand this fic.

Your book rested in your lap as you pinched the thin paper of the novel between your index finger and your thumb. You had one foot on the ground, and the other was on the bottom of your daughter’s stroller, effectively rocking the stroller in two-four time so the infant would stay asleep.

Just because the A-Team wasn’t around didn’t mean there weren’t people working in the BAU. A crying baby would certainly disrupt the workflow in the bullpen – even if the baby belonged to a member of the BAU. Although, you had already fed her – mostly covered – at Spencer’s desk, so maybe you were past the point of no return.

You and baby Nellie had just been staring at each other at home – she was doing tummy time – when your phone went off. A mysterious text from Derek Morgan had popped up on your phone screen.

Derek Morgan: Got a sec?

It wasn’t that you and Derek never texted, it’s just that it was usually under the realm of “on my way” messages and, more recently, baby pictures, but you usually communicated indirectly using a massive group chat that was created by none other than Penelope Garcia.

So, when you answered and he asked if you’d be able to meet the team when they arrived at Quantico, you hesitantly said yes. He explained more once they were on the jet, the case that they had been on involved young children, and there was a little girl that had struck a particular chord with your boyfriend – who was on his first case back from paternity leave.

Eleanor was three months old, and you weren’t sure who’d have a harder time being away from one another – her or Spencer. You hadn’t considered how Spencer would feel when confronted with a case involving children now that he was a father. Quite frankly, you had hoped that he would’ve had more time before he needed to face a situation like that.

You waited, still using your foot to rock Nell’s stroller as the cover diffused the fluorescent light, you could hear her moving now, likely having woken up from her nap, but if she wasn’t crying, you saw no reason to stop her from playing with the colorful toys that dangled above her.

Sighing, you peered up from your book to see the elevator opening on the sixth floor, revealing the team behind the steel doors. Morgan clocked you first, winking as he passed through the glass doors to the bullpen.

Spencer hadn’t noticed the two of you yet, so you slowly opened the cover of the stroller and picked your daughter up, holding her gently to your chest. The infant fussed a bit while she was being moved, effectively gaining the attention of her father, whose face lit up at the sight of his family waiting for him at his desk.

Pushing past the rest of the team, who had also noticed the small being in the room by this point, Spencer approached his desk, haphazardly dropping his bag on the metal surface before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Before even bothering to separate your lips, he was taking the baby from your arms.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling away from you slowly as he secured the baby in his arms, bending his neck to place his lips on the crown of Nell’s head, “I missed you, angel girl.” His voice was gentle as you looked on fondly, she reached out a small hand and gripped the collar of his shirt. “How are you?” He asked, turning his attention back onto you.

You smiled at the two of them, using a cloth to wipe the drool from her chin before Spencer took it from you, deftly draping it over his shoulder in case he needed it shortly. “Good,” you answered, “tired,” you added.

Across the bullpen, Emily waved at Eleanor, grinning broadly as she walked over to her desk with JJ. To her enjoyment, the baby responded by letting out a coo and smiling before turning her attention to her dad, nuzzling her face in his chest, “Did I miss anything?”

Raising your eyebrows, you shrugged, leaning back and sitting on Spencer’s desk, “She pushed herself up on her arms yesterday.” It wasn’t a massive milestone – you were still grateful that Spencer had been present for her first real smile.

“Oh, yeah?” He responded, proudly looking down at his daughter, who had moved on from nuzzling and was now trying to see just how much of her hand she could fit in her mouth. “Did you know that babies usually go through a sleep regression right before they learn a new skill?” He asked, directing the question at Nell, “That must be why your mama looks so tired.”

You waved him off, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, “She’s lucky she’s so cute.”

The familiar click-clack of heels notified you that Penelope Garcia had made it to the party, likely signaled by another member of the team, “The cutest little girl in the world!”

Even though every member of the team had held your daughter at one point or another, you weren’t entirely comfortable with her being handed off like a hot potato. This, combined with Spencer’s aversion to germs, led to an unspoken rule: wait until one of her parents offered to let you hold her.

“Did you want to take her for a bit?” You offered, looking over at Spencer as you did. He needed time with her, it wasn’t your intention to deprive him of that, but you needed to check in with him without the distraction of the baby. Handing her off, you spoke up, “Watch your earrings,” you tapped on your earlobe, “She will grab them.”

As Garcia held the baby, she made her way around the bullpen, allowing Eleanor to make grabby hands at everyone and everything.

Keeping an arm around his waist, you looked up at your boyfriend, “Are you alright?” You asked, keeping your voice low as there was no sense in airing your concerns to the now bustling office.

Spencer’s smile faltered ever so slightly, “They were just kids. There have been kids before, but now…”

“Now you’re a dad,” you finished for him. “It’s not just something that you could see happening to someone else; it’s something you could see happening to yourself.” Pinching his side slightly, you smirked at him knowingly, “You know, your levels of empathy and sensitivity increase when you become a parent. Your brain adjusts to make yourself a better parent.”

Rolling his eyes slightly, Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “You know, I vaguely remember telling you something very similar last week when you were crying at an ASPCA commercial.”

You reached up to ruffle his hair, “Nice try at sarcasm, babe, but you and I both know you never vaguely remember anything.”

“How did you know to come here? That I’d need to see her?” Spencer asked, watching as Penelope continued to parade around the BAU, now taking her up the stairs and through the roundtable room. “Was it a mother’s intuition?” He suggested, taking up a lighter tone.

Turning around, your eyes followed Garcia as she walked with Eleanor, “I was contacted by a concerned party.”

Spencer followed your gaze, “I’ll thank Garcia when she gives our baby back.”

You hummed, “Actually, it was Derek, he-“ Your voice cut off abruptly, “Oh, Penny, I told you she’d grab them!” You called from Spencer’s desk, but Garcia was already on her way to return Eleanor, holding one hand to her ear as she handed the baby back to Spencer.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi there! Can you write some HotchxColonelReader?! Like the Team comes by morging and sees Hotch, Strauss, Rossi and a woman from the army discussing something at Hotch's office about a case. Then, then discovery that THAT is the Hotchs' wife?! Sorry about my english. :) And Thank yoouuuuuuu!! I love all your work!!!

Absolutely!!! This was so much fun to write, and such a different prompt to what I usually get 🫶 Don't worry about your english ;) i'm not a native speaker 💕😘

Reverence | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱, 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘞𝘊: 1𝘬

           The early morning haze clung to the bullpen, and the rhythmic hum of coffee machines mixed with the muffled clicks of keyboards as the team settled into their desks. The quiet lull of routine was only broken by Morgan’s curious gaze as he caught a glimpse of Hotch’s office from across the room. The blinds were open, revealing an unusual scene - Hotch, Strauss, Rossi, and an unfamiliar woman standing together in what could only be described as a tense, closed-door meeting. The three agents looked on edge compared to her.

           “Hey,” Morgan called out quietly, his voice low with intrigue as he nodded toward the glass window. “What’s going on in there?”

           JJ glanced over from her desk, noticing the woman in uniform standing alongside the senior agents. Her sharp, tailored military attire contrasted starkly against the office's corporate formality. The woman exuded authority; her posture was stiff, shoulders back, chin raised with the kind of self-assurance that comes from years of commanding subordinates.

           “Who is she?” JJ whispered, leaning forward. “She looks like she’s ready to bark out several orders any second now.”

           Morgan folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Definitely military or marines. Look at that posture. You don’t stand like that out of free will unless you’ve seen action.”

           Reid, already drawn into the mystery woman, was fidgeting with the edge of his sweater trying to piece the puzzle together. “Maybe she’s part of an interagency collaboration? It could be something related to national security.”

           As the team watched, the woman turned slightly, her profile sharp and no-nonsense. Her movements were measured, and deliberate - every inch of her seemed to be about precision and control. Even though they were observing her through glass, it felt like her presence dominated the entire office.

           They didn’t have long to speculate before the door to Hotch’s office clicked open. Strauss emerged first, her usual expression in place as she nodded to the agents, followed by Rossi, who sported his signature knowing grin with a quick wink. But it was the woman who truly commanded attention as she stepped into the bullpen. The clack of her polished boots against the floor was precise, each step purposeful and calculated. Her uniform gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the medals and badges catching the glint of rays from the morning sun through the windows. She held her head high, her gaze sweeping the room like a hawk surveying its territory.

           Morgan straightened in his chair as she walked past, eyes wide with respect. “She’s definitely not here for pleasantries.”

           Before anyone could add another word, the woman stopped, her sharp gaze locking onto the team. It wasn’t just a glance - it was the kind of stare that felt like being x-rayed. The whispers, the subtle looks, the quiet gossip - they hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with a swift motion, she crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze narrowing.

           The air in the room shifted instantly as she addressed them. Her voice, though calm, carried the unmistakable weight of authority. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

           The team froze. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was firm, resonating with the controlled power of someone who was used to giving orders. It sliced through the air like a knife, leaving a lingering tension in its wake. JJ’s mouth opened slightly, Morgan leaned forward, and even Reid looked uncharacteristically startled.

           “No, ma’am,” they responded in unison, almost instinctively. The words tumbled out, a reflex to the command in her voice. It was as if, for a brief moment, they were recruits in boot camp being called to attention.

           Her eyes lingered on them for a moment, assessing, before a flicker of amusement danced across her features. Her posture remained as strict as before, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. She nodded once, satisfied with their response, then turned her attention back to Hotch, who stood quietly in the doorway of his office.

           “I’ll be returning to base,” she said, her voice noticeably softer, though still firm. She gave Hotch a look that lingered just a fraction too long for it to be strictly professional.

           “Thank you for coming by,” Hotch replied, his tone warm but restrained. There was something different about the way he spoke to her - his usual clipped authority was replaced by an almost imperceptible tenderness.

           “Of course,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. Then, her voice dropped into something far more intimate. “Aaron.”

           The use of his first name hung in the air, so casual, so familiar, yet it sent shockwaves through the team.

           JJ’s eyes widened. “Did she just call him Aaron?”

           Morgan’s jaw nearly dropped. “Hold up. Did she just—?”

           The woman didn’t wait for their reactions. With a brisk turn, she walked out of the office, her boots echoing down the hallway as she left, her military bearing never faltering. It was only after the door had swung shut behind her that Rossi, who had been watching the whole thing with barely concealed amusement, let out a chuckle.

           “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Rossi said, crossing his arms as he leaned against a desk in the bullpen. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is Hotch’s wife.”

           The team stared at him, slack-jawed.

           “His wife?” JJ managed, her voice unbelieving.

           “Colonel actually,” Rossi clarified, eyes twinkling with mischief. “She’s been in the army for years. Taught Hotch everything he knows about being strict.”

           “She’s tougher than Hotch,” Morgan added, still trying to wrap his head around the revelation.

           “Way tougher,” Rossi said, winking at the team.

           “That was… something else.” Emily managed to say through her disbelief.

           They turned to look at Hotch, before he returned to his office, his expression unreadable as he resumed his work. For a brief second, though, as his gaze flicked toward the team, they could see the faintest smile - a private, almost imperceptible curve of his lips.

           “You never asked,” he said simply, allowing a rare smile to tug at the corners of his lips before turning his attention back to his office and paperwork, leaving the team still gaping.

[doumadono]

doumaaaa! luv ur writing! could ya make dabi x nurse reader? basically him 'seducing' her or smth?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, semi-public, rough smut, pussy fingering, nurse!reader, Touya being Touya, creampie, dubcon

A/N: this request got the highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held. I must admit, the difference between this prompt and the second-highest voted one was incredibly small! Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital seemed to flicker in time with the steady beeping of monitors. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee that had become your lifeline through the long shifts. 

You were used to the routine, the endless cycle of patients coming and going. But nothing could have prepared you for him.

Dabi. Or rather Todoroki Touya. The infamous villain, arrested after the chaos of the Paranormal Liberation War. His capture had been nothing short of a miracle - or perhaps, a well-calculated move. 

The new burns that marred his body, the very marks of his quirk, had left him in dire need of medical attention. 

And you, as the head nurse of this ward, had been chosen to treat him.

You approached his room with concern. 

The door slid open with a whisper, revealing the man who had caused so much destruction. He lay on the bed, his body a patchwork of scars and fresh bandages. His turquoise eyes, like chips of ice, flicked up to meet yours, assessing and unyielding. Metal restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the bed, a necessary precaution against the notorious villain. “Here to patch me up, nurse?” His voice was rough, a dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

You forced a calm smile. “I��m here to make sure you don’t fall apart any more than you already have.”

He chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “Good luck with that, bitch.”

Setting your tray of supplies on the table beside the bed, you began your work in silence. 

The burns on his body were severe, some still fresh from recent battles. You carefully removed the old dressings, your fingers gentle yet efficient. Despite your attempts at professionalism, you couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated from him, a constant reminder of the power he wielded.

As you applied a cooling salve to his burns, you felt his gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “What’s your name, nurse?” he asked suddenly.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, tasting the syllables. “A pretty name for a pretty nurse.”

You ignored the flush that crept up your neck, shaking your head slightly. 

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why so cautious, sweetheart?" Dabi's voice broke through the silence, raspy and teasing, as he watched you with an amused smirk. "Afraid I might bite?"

You met his gaze steadily, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small, resigned grimace. "I'm not afraid of you," you replied, adjusting the flow on his IV. "I'm just being professional. And you called me a bitch moments earlier, so don’t expect me to become more friendly towards you."

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Professional, huh? I guess that's a first for me. People usually just want to fix me up quickly and get rid of me."

The casual way he spoke of his own status made you pause. "Everyone deserves proper care," you said, securing the IV line. "No matter who they are."

That seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, he just stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes before he masked it with another smirk. "You’re different, aren’t you? Not scared, not judgmental. Just doing your job."

You shrugged, feeling his intense gaze as you checked his chart. "That's what I'm here for."

He watched your every move, noting the efficiency and confidence with which you worked. It was clear you weren’t easily intimidated - a trait he found both intriguing and useful. “I suppose it’s your job to keep an eye on me too, huh? Make sure I don’t do anything foolish?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, adjusting the monitor beside his bed. 

His heart rate was steady, too steady for someone who should be in pain. Suspicion flickered in your mind.

“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? A nurse looking after someone who can burn down entire cities.”

“It is,” you agreed quietly, meeting his eyes. “But pain is pain. Healing is healing. It doesn’t choose sides.”

“Philosophical for a nurse,” he chuckled, shifting slightly. His chains rattled, a jarring sound that matched the slight grimace of pain his movements brought.

“You’d be surprised what you learn in this job,” you responded, checking the restraints to ensure they were secure, a mandatory procedure that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Two nights later, you approached Dabi’s hospital room, a mix of anxiety and anticipation thrumming through your veins. 

The night was quiet, almost oppressively so, the sterile hallways of the hospital washed in the dim glow of emergency lighting, casting long shadows that flickered softly.

The two guards who were always stationed at the door to Dabi's room and had become a constant fixture in the hallway - silent, stoic sentinels in the muted chaos of the hospital, were absent. Their absence was as puzzling as it was alarming. No explanation, no trace of their whereabouts, just an empty space where they should have been standing guard.

As you reached his room, the usual sound of the monitoring machines greeting you was conspicuously absent. A cold wave of unease washed over you. Pushing the door open fully, you stepped inside, your eyes immediately drawn to the bed that had become so familiar over the past few days.

It was empty.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your mind racing to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. The sheets were askew, tossed aside rather than neatly arranged by a nurse. The heart monitor was silent, its screen dark. Most telling of all, the metal chains designed to secure the villain, to prevent exactly this scenario, lay on the floor, melted into twisted, useless strips of metal.

Panic knotted in your stomach as you hurried forward, searching the room for any sign of him. You checked the bathroom, the small closet, even under the bed, though you knew it was futile. 

Dabi was gone. 

There was no sign of struggle, no alarm raised - it was as if he had simply vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of his presence.

Questions raced through your mind. How had he escaped? Did he plan this all along, or was it a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by some unknown factor? 

Suddenly, the light that was pouring into the room was cut off as the door swung shut with a soft, definitive click. 

A brief moment of tense silence ensued, broken only by the familiar sound of a tongue clicking. Then, a characteristic, raspy voice followed, tinged with a teasing undertone, "Well, hi there, little nurse."

Fear gripped you, paralyzing every muscle in your body. You knew well that Dabi was right behind you, yet the terror that washed over you made it impossible to turn around. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart pounding furiously against your chest as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. 

Then, a confirmation of his presence came - not through words, but through the rough, unmistakable touch of his hands as they settled on your shoulders.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice a blend of malice and allure. “You know, there’s a lot of things I’ve been thinking about doing to make myself feel better,” he murmured, his tone dripping with a dark, seductive edge. His fingers tightened around your wrists, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his control. “And since you’re the nurse, always so eager to help, you should be willing to assist with my recovery.”

His words were laced with a mocking sneer, yet his touch wandered with a boldness that betrayed his intent. He was provoking you, testing how far he could push before you’d snap or succumb. Dabi’s hand traced a path up your spine, sending shivers through your body despite your resolve. “I can think of a few therapies that might help,” he continued, his voice low and husky, teasingly listing his twisted desires. “Imagine, all the things you could do to ease my pain, to make me feel alive. Wouldn’t that be fulfilling your duty, little nurse?”

Every fiber in your being screamed to pull away, to reclaim your space and autonomy, yet his presence was overwhelming, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“You should thank me,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his lips barely grazing the curve of your ear, sending an involuntary shudder through you. “Most don’t even get the chance to hear my voice. They’re not quick enough. Never as quick as my flames,” he taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.

You gasped. His mockery stung, a stark reminder of the dangerous game that played out between you. “How?” you whispered, barely moving your lips.

Dabi's low laugh resonated close to your ear, a sound that mixed amusement with a sinister edge. “Curious, are we?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I just turned up the heat a bit.” His smirk was palpable in his voice as he recounted his escape with a nonchalance that belied the danger of his actions.

Your heart pounded, the implications of his words sinking in. “And the guards?” you managed to ask, your voice a whisper of sound, betraying your fear.

Dabi’s tone took on a sharper edge, his amusement soaring into something darker. “There was some commotion, some urgent cries over their radios, something about a threat to the hospital staff. They ran off to play heroes.” His hand tightened slightly on your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he leaned closer. “Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say? Gave me just the right moment to melt away those pesky chains and walk right out. It was almost too easy.”

Dabi smoothly spun you around to face him, his movements precise and fluid. Catching your chin between his index finger and thumb, he gently tilted your head up to meet his gaze. The touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual demeanor. "You're quite pretty, you know," Dabi murmured, his eyes scanning your face with an appreciative glint. "Even with those dark circles under your eyes." His thumb brushed lightly under your eye socket, his touch featherlight. "It tells a story, doesn't it? All those long hours spent caring for people like me."

Touya smiled, a wry, knowing smirk that hinted at his awareness of the toll his words took on you. "Working too hard, aren't you?" he mused, his gaze lingering on your face as if committing every detail to memory. "Caring for the broken, the dangerous. It's a heavy burden for such delicate shoulders. But what if I told you I want more than just professional care?"

Gathering every ounce of courage, you met Dabi’s intense gaze. “Please, let me go,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone. I'll keep quiet. You'll have time to get away from here.” 

The plea hung in the air between you, underscored by the palpable tension that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of compliance or compassion, hoping he would see the sincerity in your offer and realize it was his best chance to escape without further complications.

Dabi chuckled.

You felt a cold wave of fear wash over you, but you refused to let it show. "And I'm not here for your entertainment," you said, your voice steady despite the panic rising within you.

Dabi's laugh echoed through the room, a dark, menacing sound. "Oh, I know that," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you see, I'm not exactly in a position to ask nicely." His hands moved to your waist, pulling you back against him. 

You could feel the heat of his body through your overall, a constant reminder of the power he held. "Let me go," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Dabi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your ear. "But what if I don't want to?" he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You struggled against his hold, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "Please," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "You don't have to do this."

Dabi's grip loosened, his hands sliding down your arms. "But what if I want to?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You gasped, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head for no. His hands moved to the buttons of your uniform.

You felt the fabric of your overall give way, the cool air of the room brushing against your exposed skin. Dabi's hands moved to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. His hands were oh so warm...

You gasped.

Dabi's laugh was low and dark. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers continuing their assault on your nipples.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. "Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants before tugging them down. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You hesitated, your mind racing. You knew you should tell him to stop, but your body had other ideas. "Please, don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dabi's laugh was low and triumphant. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, his hands pulling down your pants.

You felt the cool air of the room brush against your exposed skin, your body trembling with anticipation. 

Dabi's hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you back against him, making you arch your back slightly. 

You could feel his cock, hard and insistent against your ass.

Dabi's hands moved to your thighs, spreading your legs apart. 

You felt his fingers brush against your wetness, a low moan escaping your lips. 

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan.

Dabi's fingers worked fast, pushing the material of your thong aside, and soon they moved inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit. 

You moaned even though you hated yourself for this, your body was trembling with pleasure.

He teased you slowly, his fingers moving in and out, drawing out your moans with every thrust. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. He didn’t stop himself from leaving a hickey here and there.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more. "Please," you gasped again, your voice breaking.

“Hush,” he whispered, licking a trail up the column of your neck. He pumped his long fingers in you, faster and faster, enjoying all of the sounds you made, just for him. Finally, his fingers withdrew, and you felt a momentary loss before his hands gripped your hips, turning you to face him. His eyes burned with an intense heat as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as your arms wrapped around his neck.

You could feel his dick, straining his pants, pressing against your slick, naked pussy, and instinctively, your hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Dabi's left forearm slipped under your ass, easily securing you in place as his other hand joined yours, and together you managed to free him, the hard length of his dick springing free.

With a swift motion, he aligned the tip of his cock with your dripping entrance, and pushed it up so the head went in between your delicious outer labia. Finally, he slowly shoved himself into your dripping vagina. 

As soon as he entered you, your eyes and mouth both opened wide. You looked like you were in disbelief that you were actually doing this. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his rhythm slow yet deliberate. “Gosh…” Your pussy was stretching painfully to accommodate him. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra. You hated yourself for that.

His scarred lips found yours, capturing your moans as his pace quickened, each movement driving you closer to the edge. “Fuck. So fucking tight. I love how wet and tight you are f’me,” he growled, pecking your cheek.

You could feel yourself tightening around his cock, your climax building with every hard thrust he delivered. You gasped against his lips. 

Dabi took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, then suck on your bottom lip, all while completely inside you. He began to bounce you on his cock faster, each upward thrust hitting deeper than before, the tip of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you. 

The feeling of being suspended and at his mercy driving you wild. You rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whined. You were painfully aware you acted like a cheap whore, but you didn’t mind at the time.

The friction between your bodies created a heat that was almost unbearable, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. His warmth of course added to the sensation. And his cock was oh so hot.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "So desperate, so needy. Fucking bitch." He pulled his cock out until only the tip remained between your parted, lower lips, then slammed his hips back against yours, burying himself in your pussy to the hilt of his shaft.

You couldn't respond, your mind lost in the overwhelming sensations. You could only moan, the sound echoing in the room as he continued to bounce you on his cock, the pace quickening. You were trembling in his arms, even though you shouldn’t. Your boobs were swaying forward and backward as he fucked you raw.

“Be fucking quiet, little nurse, or the guards will hear us if they’re back,” he slapped your cheek, and grunted as his balls hit the curve of your ass yet again.

Your bodies made a wet smacking noise each time, and Dabi could see strands of your fluids spider-webbing between your skin each time he pulled away from your heated, dripping core. 

Your tits, still in your bra, pressed firmly against his chest as you leaned into him, already breathless. Your head rolled forward, resting against the crook of his neck where his marred skin was exposed. “Mmmm…. Mmmmm…. I’m gonna… I can’t anymore….” Your pussy clenched around his cock in anticipation, and a growl rose in your throat.

Your needy, seductive voice worked its magic on the scarred man. 

Dabi's head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as he came, spilling his thick seed deep within you, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppier and more frantic. “Fuck, take it, bitch, take it all.” 

With Dabi’s cock nestled within your core, you felt every pulse as he reached his climax. Every pulse and eruption of cum filling your tight pussy sent twin waves of pleasure and a wonderful, comforting warmth through your entire being, and three or four pulses in, you found herself cumming as well, pussy spasming and clenching around Touya’s  cock, milking it of his wonderful, hot cum.

You felt his cum filling you to the brim and beyond, and spilling out of you, dripping to the floor, even though you two were still connected.

Dabi's hands moved to your waist, his fingers gentle as he pulled out of you. He gave himself a few more jerks before grabbing your overall and wiping his flaccid cock in it. After that, he tossed your uniform aside, and improved his pants and belt. Dabi's voice was low and dark as he spoke. "You're quite the little slut, aren't you?"

As you hastily tried to dress, your cheeks burning with a mix of emotions, you muttered, "It was a moment of weakness…" Your gaze drifted nervously toward the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment.

Suddenly, Dabi was before you again, his presence imposing. His hand shot out, capturing your cheeks with an intensity that made you wince. He squeezed firmly, his eyes burning into your very soul as he seethed a harsh reminder, "Not a word until five minutes pass. Understand?" The threat in his voice was unmistakable, echoing in the charged air between you.

Releasing your face, he moved swiftly to the window with the fluid grace of a predator. His silhouette framed against the dim light from outside was both menacing and mesmerizing. As he swung one leg over the sill, he paused, turning to fix you with a piercing look. "You'll never be rid of me, not until death takes me." His words hung heavy in the room, a promise or a curse. Then, he jumped out, vanishing into the night like a ghost. 

You stood frozen, the imprint of his fingers still tingling on your skin, his final words echoing in your mind. You waited, counting each second of those five minutes he had demanded. You were scared to see him again, yet part of you wondered, perhaps even hoped, for that very possibility.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Secrets ♡

♡ Pairing: sugar daddy!yeosang x chubby!fem!sugar baby!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: It's your anniversary and everything's going wonderfully with the man of your dreams until you're forced to spill a secret you've been hiding for a long time. You've always wanted a family with him but never pushed the issue, knowing it's something he wouldn't be interested. But you might just be surprised what he's willing to do and how eager he is to do it.

♡ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♡ Warning: discussions of pregnancy/motherhood, breeding kink, nipple play, unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex, yeosang has some dom vibes at time, spanking, pet names (mommy/daddy/baby), hair pulling, creampie, and that's about all.

♡ A/N: I wrote this as a request for @rems-writing who I adore to pieces. I really hope that I did justice to your request, my love. It was really fun to write and is only worsening the fact that Yeosang is wrecking me these days so thank you for that.

In the beginning things were different. Yeosang was your sugar daddy. He was there to spoil you beyond your wildest dreams, giving you everything your heart desired. Nothing more and certainly nothing less. In return he got you, however and whenever he wished to have you. But overtime, as all things do, the situation grew more complicated than either of you planned.

One day you woke up to find that you weren’t reaching for your phone to call him about the newest pair of shoes you had your eye on, you just needed to hear the sound of his voice. And Yeosang found himself caring less and less if seeing you led to anything sexual. He was more than happy to simply have you in his arms.

You both had, against all of your better judgment, fallen completely in love with each other. It’s been 3 years since you both broke down and admitted this was far deeper than something transactional. 3 years down to the day that you decided to truly be together and neither of you have regretted it for a moment. 

Staring lovingly at your gorgeous side profile as the two of you navigate your way through the crowded lantern festival, Yeosang can’t imagine ever regretting being with a girl like you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted and more. With your hand securely held in his, he feels like he’s got the very center of his universe in the palm of his hands. That’s why he did everything in his power to make this anniversary special for you.

There was the breakfast in bed that he spent all morning whipping up himself. The shopping spree that almost cleaned out your favorite store. A four course meal at a lavish restaurant overlooking the water. And now a starlit walk through a breathtaking lantern festival where gorgeous neon sculptures illuminate the night. You stare at them in awe the same way you have every single thing he’s placed in front of you today. You’re sincerely happy and that’s the only thing he wants in this world. 

“Yeo, look at that! Isn’t it beautiful?” you beam, dragging him over to a tree sprinkled with dozens of fluorescent cherry blossoms. They twinkle overhead, bathing you in a soft pink light that makes you glow. You’re so ethereal in his eyes that he doesn’t even care that you nearly yanked his arm off to get him over here. 

“Yes, it’s beautiful, baby,” he laughs, his voice soft and deep. You’re the cutest when you get like this over things and he can’t help but be tickled when that childlike excitement comes out. 

“And what’s so funny?” you frown, your nose wrinkling adorably. 

Despite a half hearted attempt at holding it in, your bratty nature only makes him laugh harder. “You’re just so cute. I can’t help it” he says, pulling you into his arms and attacking your cheek with the sweetest of kisses. 

“Kang Yeosang, you’re being a very bad boy right now” you giggle, spinning around and straight into a kiss on the lips that has you blushing so hard your cheeks are heating up. 

He leans into your neck, lips tickling their way up to your ear. “I can be much worse,” he whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Feeling your mind stray to places a little too obscene for public, you pull away from Yeosang and find a tiny human staring up at you with tears in her eyes. 

“Mommy!” a girl no older than 4 or 5 cries, tugging on your dress. She’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen with her teddy bear and her pigtails. It breaks your heart to see her crying. 

“Hey, honey. Did you lose your mommy?” you ask, kneeling down to comfort her. Now face to face with you, she realizes that you aren’t her mommy and throws an even bigger fit. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, sweetie” you coo, patting her on the shoulders. She throws herself into your arms and you automatically wrap your arms around her, letting her know that she’s safe with you. Your gaze darts to a panicked Yeosang for help. You know kids aren’t really his thing but you could use the assist right now. 

Yeosang peeks at her over your shoulder and smiles in a goofy way that gets a giggle out of her. “Everything will be okay, sweetie” he reassures her, “We’ll find your, mommy.” Patting her on the head, he takes off into the crowd in search of her mom or a worker who can help. 

“That’s Yeosang, he’s a great finder” you say, balancing her on your hip like a pro. “I like your dress by the way” you throw in, noticing that you’re both wearing the same light green sundress only her version is much tinier and much more adorable. You figure this must be how she got you confused with her mom. You had no idea this dress was so popular when you brought it. 

Fascinated by the discovery, she begins to play with the fabric of your dress, her curiosity shifting to the shiny silver earrings dangling from your ears. They’re one of the many gifts that Yeosang surprised you with for your anniversary. As she marvels at the way they sparkle, the giggles overflow from her and your heart flutters. 

It’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to Yeosang but you’ve often wondered what it might be like to walk around a park like this. Yeosang by your side and a little one bouncing on your hip, giggling her life away. You’d love this more than anything that comes with a price tag but it’s a dream that you gave up long ago.

Yeosang made it clear from various throwaway comments he’s made over the past 3 years that kids aren’t in the cards for him. And, no matter how much it pains you, you have to accept it. Instead, you keep your dreams to yourself and cherish precious moments like this where you get a taste of motherhood, however faint. It’s bittersweet but sweet nonetheless. 

“Pretty” the little girl says, fidgeting with one of your earrings. 

“You like them?” you ask, smiling gently, “They were a gift from—”

“Sophia!” a woman yells, racing over to you with Yeosang not too far behind. Your suspicions were correct. She’s wearing the exact same dress as you with the added accessory of a few tears. 

“See. I told you he was a good finder” you whisper, handing her over to her relieved mother. 

“Honey, I was so worried,” the mother pants, struggling to catch her breath as she squeezes her daughter tightly. 

Yeosang returns to your side, placing a hand on your waist and giving you a look of admiration you’re too distracted to notice but it’s there. 

“Thank you so much for looking out for her” the mother says, laughing when she notices her daughter still holding onto your dress, “I think she likes you.”

Your face lights up at the adorable gesture and you pinch Sophia’s cheek playfully. “I like her too. You be good now, Sophia.”

“Bye!” Sophia waves, finally letting go of your dress. Her eyes are still glued to you as her mom mouths another silent “Thank you” and the two head off back to where they came from. 

You linger there for a moment, swirling in thoughts of what motherhood might be like. You’ve pushed it to the back of your mind for so long that you’d forgotten how deeply you yearned for it. It’s enough to keep you lost in thought until Yeosang takes your hand, snapping you out of it. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, knowing perfectly well that it isn't. You can’t hide your feelings from him, even if you think you can. When something’s upsetting you he can feel it. He knows your heart’s breaking. 

“It’s…it’s nothing” you say, setting your sights on another sculpture a good distance away. “Why don’t we go check that out?” You tug at his arm but this time he doesn’t let you drag him an inch. 

“Something’s wrong. Talk to me” he pleads, his face as serious as you’ve ever seen it. Yeosang’s typically playful and gentle with you, seldom showing his stubborn side but it’s out tonight and you know that arguing with him is a lost cause. 

You sigh, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact, “I can’t really talk about it here.”

“Then let’s go back to the car. We can talk there, okay?” He isn’t asking as much as he is telling you what’s about to happen.

It’s his turn to drag you along as he maneuvers you through crowds of families and lovey dovey couples to get to the car. All the while your stomach’s doing backflips at the thought of telling Yeosang the truth. You promised long ago that you’d always tell each other the truth, no matter how afraid you were, and you’d deal with the rest together. It’s a promise that you’ve never broken, not even for the smallest thing, but tonight lying seems more appealing than ever.

By the time you make it into the car your mind’s already been made up that he’ll leave you for this. Your 3rd anniversary will be your last one all because you couldn’t get over one silly thing. 

“So,” Yeosang says, the silence dancing between you becoming almost unbearable, “Are you gonna tell me what happened back there?”

He watches you with the kindest eyes and your heart breaks even more. This may be the last time he looks at you like that. You take a deep breath, soaking it in, your heart still toying with the idea of lying. 

“I want to be a mother” you blurt out, unable to keep it bottled up any longer.

It’s simultaneously terrifying and relieving to have that off of your chest after holding it in like a sneeze for the past 3 years. “I know you don’t want kids and I’m okay with that, I really am. It’s just that when I’m around kids like that, sometimes I…I don’t know.” You begin to tear up and Yeosang places a comforting hand on your leg. 

“Who said I didn’t want kids?” he asks so softly you almost think that you imagined it. 

“Uhm, you?” you sniffle, your bottom lip quivering. “You said that all kids do is poop and cry and make a mess of everything.”

Yeosang pulls his sleeve down, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Baby, I didn’t mean it that way. Well, I did mean that but not in that way. Yeah, all kids do is poop and cry and make a mess but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want a family with you.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. If it’s not what you want it’s not what you want.”

“Look at me” he demands, forcing you to meet his gaze, “I would love a family with you. Not because you cried but because that’s what I want. I just downplayed it because I thought you didn’t want it.”

“Oh my gosh, do I want it?” you say, perking up at the mere thought of it. “Tiny versions of us running around the house would be the best thing ever. Imagine going shopping for their little clothes and the family vacations. It’d be so cute. You’d make such a good dad, Yeo.”

There it is again. That childlike wonder that always brings a smile to his face. “And you’d make a wonderful mom. I only wish you would’ve told me sooner. I want a life with you and everything that comes along with it. Promise me you’ll never doubt that again.”

Yeosang extends his pinky to trap you into the legally binding pinky swear. You hook your pinky into his, rolling your eyes at how silly he can be. “I promise.”

“Good. Now here,” he says, handing you the aux cord, “Talk about it more when we get home?” 

You nod, skeptically taking the cord. It’s not his willingness to hand over control of the music to you that has you skeptical. Let’s be real, you always control the music anyway. What throws you off is how laid back he’s acting when he knows that you can read him as well as he reads you.

The entire ride home there’s the ghost of a smile on his face, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, as he nods along to your music like the conversation never happened. But the wheels are turning in his head, he’s thinking about something and not knowing exactly what is eating you up inside. 

Did he really mean what he said? Is a family really what he wants or was he just trying to please you? You once again recall your pact not to lie. It goes both ways and you have to trust him to stick to it. Still, as you pull into the driveway and he leads you up the stairs of your shared home, you feel in your gut that there’s more to it than he’s leading on. 

“Is now a good time?” he asks once you’ve made it safely into the dimly lit living room. 

You turn around, eyeing him curiously, “Is now a good time for what?” 

Yeosang steps towards you, tossing his keys onto the coffee table. “You said you wanted to start a family” he says, his eyes scanning over how well that dress fits your curves, “So tell me, is now a good time to start?”

“Yeosa—” you’re saying but your words are cut off by his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you passionately, his hands hungrily massaging your figure through your dress. Your head spinning from the kiss, you stumble backwards, finding yourself pinned between your boyfriend and the wall. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this” he confesses, hands slipping under your dress to massage your plush ass. “To just fill you up until you can’t take it anymore.”

His words set your body on fire, every fantasy you’ve had about this very moment flooding your brain. “Please, I want you to fill me up so badly. I need it” you beg, palming a bugle that only tightens with your desperate pleas.

“Fuck, baby” he groans, drowning you in another kiss. Locking his arms around your waist, he sweeps you up and takes you to the couch where you take control, straddling him as you grind down against his clothed cock. 

The heat between your bodies is as intense as the heat between your thighs, your pussy growing wetter by the second. Yeosang trails kisses down your neck, gripping your thighs to spread your legs wider. Your stiff clit bumps the strained zipper of his pants and you let out a moan pretty enough to taste.

“Fuck me” you whine, hips rocking, desperate for more friction. 

“Already?” he teases, dipping two fingers between your legs to stroke your leaking slit. Your panties are so drenched the cotton feels like velvet. So smooth and so saturated with your juices that his fingers just slide across them. 

“I want to know how wet you are first” he says, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Show me.” 

It takes every ounce of willpower to pull yourself off of him but you manage, standing up and turning around so that your ass is poking right in his face. Yeosang tears your dress up, kissing one of your ass cheeks while his free hand slaps the other. The sting makes you jump but the kisses are heavenly. A delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Bend over” he whispers, tugging your panties down as you bend over in front of him and spread your legs apart for him.

A sudden shyness overcomes you when you realize how exposed you are. At the same time your nipples stiffen against your bra knowing how hard he must be getting watching your cunt drip for him the way it does. 

His fingers meet your slit again and he hums in satisfaction, collecting your arousal on his fingertips. He pops them inside of you and you cry out, pressing your thighs together to feel them even better. 

“You’re clenching so tightly around my fingers, baby. You need to be bred that badly?” 

“Mmhmm” you gasp, fighting to stay upright as he spreads his fingers, scissoring in and out of your core. Your thighs are getting wetter and wetter,  your juices leaking between them the faster his fingers fuck into you.

Yeosang runs his tongue along your thighs, licking up the arousal that leaks out from around his fingers. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do. Use your words.”

“I want to have your babies. I want you to breed me” you moan like a melody and you’re snatched right back down into his lap, his cock buried deep inside of you before your brain has time to register it. 

Bringing your back flush against his defined chest, he thrusts into you with enough force for you to see stars. He’s feral, determined to ravage you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve had sex with him hundreds, if not thousands of times, up to this point but this time is so different. It’s the first time you’ve felt him raw inside of you and it’s pleasure beyond anything you could’ve ever dreamed of.

You feel everything. The head pulsing and leaking each time he bottoms out. The blood rushing through the veins that travel along his length, twitching when  you clench, swallowing him deeper. Behind you Yeosang’s losing his mind at how perfect your bare pussy feels wrapped around him. He can feel all of the ridges, feel how slippery wet your walls are while he fucks you. It’s almost too much to handle. 

Smoothing his hands up your sides, a hand finds its way to one of your breasts, pinching the bud through your dress. He rolls it between his fingers, the pressure just enough to keep your senses on edge. His other hand finds its way between your legs, working your clit in small circles.

It’s sensory overload being played with in so many ways. Your core being fucked in perfect rhythm, your sensitive nipples twisting between his fingers, and your puffy clit being overstimulated. It’s like you’re falling apart right here in his arms and he loves it. Every single minute of it. You milk his cock so well when you’re like this, his whining, drooling, teary eyed girl. 

“C…cum first. You” you stutter, throwing your head back. Your fingers find his hair again and you pull it harder this time, arching your back and fluttering your walls. “Fill me up, Yeosang.” 

You’re so cute when you’re needy, too cute to deny. Truth is, he’s been holding back. He wanted to cum the second his cock felt what you were like without a condom. All this time the pressure’s been building and holding it back has been unbearable. His heart set on giving you what you want, as always, he slides down further on the couch, hitting your sweet spot as he fucks into you harder. 

“You’re so pretty you know that?” he growls, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, “You’re gonna make such a pretty mommy, aren’t you?”

You tug at his hair, swirling your hips in his lap, “Yes, daddy.”

Your words are like magic. One final twitch of his cock and he’s spilling inside of you so hard that you can feel him painting your walls. You wanted to be full and you are. So full of his seed that it’s dripping from your pussy, leaking all over him. The fullness sends you crashing towards your high, your walls gripping him tighter than ever as you both shiver in each other’s arms. 

“Oh god, don’t stop” you moan, greedy for more of his cum. Lucky for you it’s still flowing and your pussy devours it, taking every drop until you’re both spent. Cradling you in his arms, Yeosang brushes your hair back out of your face and kisses your cheek, lulling you down from your high. 

“You know I meant that” he says, breathlessly.

“Meant what?” you ask, stroking the muscular arms responsible for keeping you upright. 

“You’ll make a great mom. I can’t wait to see it” he smiles, planting another kiss on your cheek. “We just gotta keep working on it. Ready to go again?”

“Sir, you’re insatiable! I need to get away from you!” you giggle, clumsily pulling away from him and hobbling towards the stairs. 

Yeosang chases after you, scooping you into his arms with a mischievous grin on his face, “Well how else are babies made, honey?” 

[krypticcafe]

Reader/ Y/n coming back to base covered in blood and tortured while 141 + Alejandro had no idea where reader was since they left in the morning.

Reader is "the little sibling/adopted child that we must protect all cause" to the boys

Love your writing so much ❤️

As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x 141 + alejandro

warning(s): canon-typical violence, language, drugs and drugging, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, no use of y/n, no beta read

a/n: Hope you don't mind that I decided to put this all in one long fic, kinda struggled with the writing direction with this since I had to rewrite it multiple times and I had to cut it short so I'll probably make a part two?

synopsis: it's going to take a lot more than simple torture to keep you from going back to the 141.

Part Two is now up!

"I'll be back before they know it."

Those were the last words you thought to yourself before you hopped off the helicopter. You and a team of other capable members of SpecGru and the Los Vaqueros had left before the crack of dawn for a joint operation and anticipated coming back by the afternoon if things went smoothly. And of course, they didn't.

No, you couldn't be afforded such a luxury as seen by how you were overwhelmed in battle. You wish you could've said you did your best, but god dammit you should've checked before entering that building, thinking you could lure the enemy away from the rest of your team. Compared to the hours you spent strapped to a chair with nothing but fluorescent light and a buzzing in your ears to compliment the throbbing pain in your head, you started to prefer the option of joining the rest of your teammates becoming target practice instead.

It didn't help either that the people who caught you were sick bastards. You could deal with the punches, a kick to the crotch, the hair pulling, cigar smoke, the blades, and having your body slammed around the place. It was nothing compared to practice with the 141 and prior missions you had with them. But when the metal cart of syringes came out, you knew you were beyond fucked, even when you had a swollen eye, a busted lip, broken ribs, open cuts, and burns. They took it a step further and injected experimental drugs you were supposed to investigate, homemade concoctions as they lovingly called them.

By pure shitty luck, you only escaped because one of them was stupid enough to clean up after offering you a glass of water when you woke up after passing out, dropping and shattering it in front of you, and not bothering to clean up. When your guard left to go take a piss break, you threw yourself to the floor and tried to squirm your way to the glass, using a shard to cut through your ropes. Once your guard came back, you pretended to still be bounded to your seat, coaxing him to come closer as if you wanted to confess something, and slit his throat. From there, it was easy now that you had a gun.

Or at least it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the adrenaline of finally being able to move, but the drugs hadn't fully kicked in until now. Your whole world seemed to sway, or maybe it was just you. You couldn't tell, all that mattered was that you could fight. Based on the layout of the building you were in, you were still in the same area as you were before. It took more bullets than you would've liked to admit to take down the guards that were in your way, but how was it your fault when the only two thoughts in your head were 'Where the fuck is my stuff' and 'God I'm gonna puke'.

Whoever kidnapped you really didn't think things through. Security was tight on the second floor but the bottom floor just had a single guy in the kitchen messing with a bag of crackers. You aimed your gun at him and click!

Click!

Clickclickclick!

Shit.

Well that caught his attention. You ducked down right when he reached for his gun, tossing your empty one to the side now that you'd be doing this the hard way. Waiting with bated breath, you took your window of opportunity, lunging when he had to reload. You took him by such surprise that he fumbled to put in another magazine and that allowed you to knock the weapon from his hands and tackle him to the ground. The both of you struggled on the hardwood floors for what felt like hours, but it was only a minute at most. Even in your feverish, dizzy, survival-instincts-only state, you overpowered him and stabbed him with his own knife.

Towering over the body, you gasped for breath, feeling your lungs struggling to expand and contract if you didn't force yourself to focus on the task. Great, now you're sweaty, weak, bloody, and out of breath. Based on how your hands started trembling, your symptoms were getting worse. Pacing around the area, you found your bag on a couch and fished around for the radio, yelling out your callsign before the rest of them would discover why their friends were suddenly so silent over comms.

"Sending coordinates, get a chopper over to exfil ASAP. And a damn medic."

The 141 were back from their own mission when they had heard the news of your distress call. Ghost was on the verge of strangling one of men that was on the team with you if they didn't add the fact that you made a reckless move for the sake of the team. Ghost could agree that it was something that only you would do despite his constant arguing with you and his protectiveness over you. He'd keep an eye out for you from the shadows both on base and in the field, be the one to challenge you to push your limits during your sparring matches, make sure you were well-trained so you could protect yourself. And yet you would instead protect the 141's asses countless times.

Ghost was brooding in the helicopter, well, more like sulking after a mission with you and Soap. During the crossfire, he wasn't able to keep an eye out for his flank and see the grenade flying for him. In a desperate move, you shoved him out of the blast range with all your strength, landing you with a couple burns and injuries, but nothing fatal. You knew he was going to get moody afterwards, giving a knowing glance to Soap before turning back to Ghost and nudging his leg with your boot.

"Hey, L.T, you were in the British S.A.S, right?"

"..."

"Just answer the question! C'mon Ghost, for me? Pleaaaase?"

"Affirmative."

"So back then, if you were to get bathroom duty, would they call you a Loo-tenant?"

"... negative. Was promoted after joining the 141." He turned his head away, and despite his blunt, by-the-book response, you knew he was smirking under that mask of his, especially with how Johnny and you were both snickering your asses off.

"Ghost?"

Simon snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Soap, visibly concerned for the masked man but reading him all at the same time. Years of working together helped Soap get over the boundary of Ghost's silence and stoicism, and Ghost wasn't the only one looking out for you after all.

"You alright, L.T?"

"Solid, just need a talk with Price."

"I know what you're thinkin', and as much as I'd love to shove it to the bastards, they're going to need us when they come back. Price will come up with something, we just hafta wait 'til then." For once, Soap was the voice of reason and Ghost couldn't argue with his point.

"He's right, you know." Price stood a few feet away from the two in the hall, "Kid's capable of themselves but they're going to need a shoulder to lean on when they get here. Maybe a couple stitches, too."

Price hoped it was only going to be a few stitches. Though he knew it probably wasn't the case. Alongside Roach and Gaz, he had trained you for these situations, ensuring it would never happen and it never did thanks to his mentorship. He saw you as one of his own and ensured that you'd be able to fight tooth and nail so that it would never end up like this. But now that it has, he could only wonder what could've been done to you for you to get captured.

He didn't want to wonder.

"Bloody hell, what did they do to you?" Gaz muttered, watching as you stepped down the ramp with a soldier aiding at your side. There was an attempt to bandage you up on the way, though it only seemed to be temporary since your bandages were already stained with blood and some of it oozed out. Even the bandages around your head didn't stop the crimson liquid from spilling down the side of your face. The soldier passed you to Gaz, immediately urging that your injuries be tended to.

"Something's wrong, look." Roach helped support your other side to allow Gaz to examine you.

With a closer look, Gaz found that your pupils were disturbingly dilated, eyes glazed over in a way that made you almost look dead. You were muttering and mumbling nonsense under your breath, something about the mission and wanting to go home.

Gaz swallowed an anxious breath and nodded, "We'll get you home soon, buddy. Roach, help me take off their gear."

As soon as the other man began unclipping your vest from your body, it seemed something had pulled a trigger in you.

"No... no you're not- don't fucking touch me-!" You slurred, weakly tearing yourself from the hands of your friends. It surprised Gaz that you had the energy to punch his chest with that much force, but it broke his heart all at the same time. Roach guessed that you were so out of it that you could barely comprehend your surroundings, hell, you probably thought you were still in captivity. It hurt to imagine your perspective, and how vulnerable you felt, thinking they were your enemies.

"What's going on here?" Price's voice rose over all the noise as people tried to calm you down, Soap and Ghost following behind him along with Alejandro, who joined them with no hesitance after hearing what happened.

Roach approached them, "I don't know, the Sergent just came back like this, like they're in some kind of haze."

"They're drugged, at least, I think. I took a look at them and they don't even look like they recognize us," Gaz struggled to keep you from falling but you were insistent on getting away from him, from everyone. Thankfully, Ghost had come up from behind you without being noticed and locked you in a hold. You tried to flail even more, but with your weakened state and Ghost's strength, all you could do was yell with sloppy words for him to let go of you. It hurt them all to hear you yowl and yelp like an animal in pain, but they knew that you'd only hurt yourself more if Ghost didn't keep you like this. He forced himself to ignore your cries and clenched his jaw, focusing on keeping his temper and how he was going to let it out when given a chance.

"Steamin' Jesus, Price, I thought this was a cartel recon mission?" Soap seethed at the thought of what might've happened. Torture was one thing, but it was this whole new level of "fucked-up" that had him wanting to snap and tear at the throats of your tormentors.

"It was," Alejandro spoke up, "There was talk of a new drug on the market, released even though it was 'incomplete'. Nobody know that it was more dangerous than it was supposed to be, nobody outside of them." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Cartels being reckless was nothing new to him, it was something he had seen time and time again. But it was the lack of awareness, the blatant disregard for safety and society, and how they betrayed their own people that made him livid. As a leader, he emphasized his loyalty and dedication to his soldiers, which was why he considered those who worked for and with him to be friends or even family, like you. So to him, if someone had messed with you, they were messing with him and his army as well.

Price glanced in the direction of you and Ghost for a moment, watching you finally begin to calm down from tiring yourself out. His gaze softened after you finally went limp, but still breathing, and he felt a pang of disappointment in himself for the briefest of moments. Maybe if he had known you'd leave so early in the day, he could've better prepared you. Maybe he should've assigned one of the others to join you so you wouldn't be in this predicament. But he didn't know. He didn't expect things would go this far south. None of them did.

"We'll finish the job first and then," Price took one last look as you were taken away on a stretcher, unconscious but writhing with a pained expression.

"We give them hell."

[delirious-donna]

The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

~

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

[flare-starling]

Fluorescent Stars Au! The information ones. Not much detail for obvious reasons.

Below is going to be the information typed out.

Bloodmoon #1:

Favorite Blood: O- (AB is a exception)

They prefer: Lunar, Sun, Kc (Brother, Adoptive father, Cool Uncle.) [Bm 2 meant to be there too but forgot to add but yes he preferred him too.]

Dislike ppl: Earth, Moon, Eclipse, Solar, Monty, Ruin, Solar.Flare, Frank, Stitchwraith, Creator

Dislike: Being followed, Mannequins.

Height: 1’5 Weight: 70 Birthday: July 16th

——————————————————

Bloodmoon #2:

Favorite Blood: O- (AB is also exception

They prefer: Lunar, Sun, Kc (Brother, Dad, Cool Uncle) [Also forgot to add Bm #1

Dislike ppl: Earth, Moon, Eclipse, Solar, Monty, Ruin, Solar.Flare, Frank, Stitchwraith, Creator

Dislike: Being followed, Mannequins

Height: 1’3 Weight: 70 Birthday: July 16th

——————————————

Lunar:

Favorite Blood: O+ (AB is Exception) [He also drinks blood.]

He prefers: Bm #1, Bm #2, Sun, Earth, Moon, Monty, Solar, Frank, Kc (Brothers, Dad, Nice Aunt, Uncle, Aunt Bf, Uncle, Friend, Cool Uncle)

Dislike ppl: Eclipse, Ruin, Solar.Flare, Stitchwraith, Creator

Dislike: Dolls, Mannequins, baths

Height: 1’0 Weight: 40 Birthday: August 11th

[crevicedwelling]

the Gryllacrididae (leaf-rolling or raspy crickets) are one of my favorite orthopteran families: large, cricket-like animals with spiny limbs that hint at their predatory nature, and the unique feature of silk glands with which they use to tie leaves into secure shelters.

I saw a few species in Costa Rica, though all are unidentified. many gryllacridids have a translucent, gem-like luster to their vibrant colors; there’s even several species in Colombia (I must see these someday) that are a vibrant fluorescent-paint pink!

[pretzel-box]

The Third Month

Words: 3,2k

Tags: Lots of fluff, comfort, affection, established relationship, seabunny hybrid reader, reader is FEMALE, DO NOT READ WITH A FAINT HEART I WARN YOU

status: NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED.

authors note: Thank you all for 100 followers!!♡

It's been a month since the lockdown began, and your life took a drastic turn when you were picked up by none other than Sebastian Solace himself. Before that day, you had been on your own, treated like nothing more than a lab rat by Urbanshade—a mere experiment in their endless quest for progress. Your memories of the world outside the Hadal Blackside were foggy at best, but one thing you knew for certain: you were different now. A sea bunny hybrid, with soft, pale skin, black freckles and delicate, fluttering appendages on your head that set you apart from the rest of humanity. You had always felt out of place, even before the experiments, but now, you doubted society would ever accept someone as strange as you.

When the lockdown happened, and someone—no, he—freed all the experiments, including you, it felt like a new beginning. With nowhere else to go, you found yourself gravitating toward the one person who had shown you kindness in this forsaken underwater facility.The sea-serpent merchant, had opened his shop to you, offering you more than just shelter. He gave you purpose. Over the past four weeks, you had thrown yourself into helping him run his little store, finding comfort in the routine and the company of the mysterious man who had saved you.

During that time, something unexpected happened. Your cheerful, excited nature, a trait that had once felt like a burden in a world that demanded seriousness and submission, became a source of warmth in Sebastian’s otherwise cold and calculated life. You didn’t notice it at first—how his glances lingered longer, how his touch became gentler, or how his voice softened whenever he spoke to you. But he noticed. The walls he had built around himself began to crumble, and before he knew it, he had fallen hard for you.

And now, here you were, sitting side by side in his shop, the dim lights casting a warm glow over the two of you. Your days had become a blend of work and stolen moments of affection. The once-stoic sea-serpent was now your partner, keeping you safe and secure in all this giant mess.

You ran up to him, your heart pounding in anticipation, arms outstretched for the embrace you had been longing for as if you hadn't seen him in years. Every step you took was fueled by the yearning that had built up during your time apart, a craving for his touch, his warmth, his affection. When you finally reached him, it felt like everything inside you lit up, a warm, comforting feeling spreading through your chest as your emotions surged, deep and intense.

Sebastian caught you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off the ground. The way he held you—his hands gently cradling your waist—was so tender, so full of care, that you felt an immediate sense of belonging, like you were finally home. It was a sensation you cherished, one that you had come to associate with him alone.

“I’m back!” you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with excitement. As you looked at him, your eyes couldn’t help but trace every detail of his face, illuminated softly by the glow of his anglerfish lure. The dim light highlighted his sharp features, and you marveled at the way it brought out the depths of his fluorescent blue eyes. Those eyes, which had once seemed so distant, were now a comforting ocean in which you could easily get lost.

“Welcome back,” he replied in that deep, soothing voice of his, and as he leaned in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was a simple gesture, but one that meant everything to you. This forehead kiss had become a cherished ritual, a sign of his affection that greeted you every time you returned from one of your little expeditions. The moment felt timeless, as if the world outside the two of you didn’t exist, leaving just the warmth of his embrace and the comforting familiarity of his presence.

As he set you down gently, his hands lingered on your waist, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. The bond between you had grown so much over time, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how deeply you had fallen for him. The affection you felt was almost overwhelming, filling every corner of your heart as you looked into his eyes, knowing that he felt the same way too.

"Hey, Sebby," you called out, using the nickname that had taken him some time to get used to. "Are you ever going to admit that you love my company as much as I love yours?"

He looked up from his work, his deep blue eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "You're insufferable," he grumbled, but the slight curve of his lips betrayed him.

"And you wouldn’t have it any other way," you shot back with a grin.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he returned to his task. "You’ve turned my world upside down, you know that?"

"Good," you replied, moving closer to him. "Because you’ve done the same for me."

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. The simple touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of how much you cared for him. In the dim light of the shop, with the familiar scent of sea salt and old files around you, everything felt perfect—like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

One of the many things Sebastian adored about you was your genuine curiosity for the things he did. He appreciated how you made an effort to understand his hobbies, so you could spend more time with him without disrupting his work. One of these hobbies was the skill of repairing broken devices, like flashlights and codebreakers. Fixing them for his shop was a crucial task, and you took on the challenge with excitement, eager to earn his praise.

“Like this?” you asked, sitting at the table with his tail serving as your seat. His head hovered above yours, casting a warm glow over your workspace with his anglerfish lure and guiding you. Two of his large hands rested on your waist out of habit, while his third hand assisted you in repairing the blacklight in front of you.

“Hold it steady, bunny,” he murmured with a smile, leaning his chin gently on top of your hair.

“I almost have it—” you began, but were interrupted by a sudden cough, quickly raising your arm to cover your mouth.

Sebastian’s focus shifted immediately as he heard your cough. The sound was soft but sharp enough to cut through the peaceful atmosphere of your shared workspace. His tail tensed slightly beneath you, and his hands instinctively tightened their grip on your waist. He had grown accustomed to your energy, your excitement, and the way you threw yourself into learning his trade. But lately, there had been small signs—moments of fatigue, occasional coughing spells, a distant look in your eyes—that he couldn’t quite ignore.

He leaned down closer, his anglerfish lure casting a gentle glow over your face. “Are you okay?” His deep voice was laced with concern, even as he tried to keep his tone casual.

You nodded quickly, trying to brush it off as nothing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a bit of dust in my throat, that’s all.”

You were so determined, so eager to help, and he loved that about you. It made his heart swell with pride every time you managed to fix something on your own, the look of accomplishment on your face more precious to him than any treasure in his shop.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Just be careful. You don’t want to damage the circuit.”

You smiled up at him, grateful for his patience and guidance. “I got this,” you assured him, turning your attention back to the task at hand.

Sebastian watched you work, his chin still resting gently on top of your head. He couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt to have you there, sitting on his tail, leaning into him for warmth and support. The way you fit into his life so seamlessly was something he hadn’t expected, but now that he had you, he couldn’t imagine things any other way. Your curiosity, your determination to learn his skills, and the way you always seemed to know just what he needed—these were the things that made him fall for you, deeper every day.

“Almost there,” you murmured, your focus back on the blacklight. You carefully soldered the last connection, and with a satisfied smile, you held it up for Sebastian to see. “I think it’s fixed!”

He grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the soft light. “That’s my girl,” he praised, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You did great.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you leaned back against him, basking in the warmth of his approval.

Two months had passed, and it had become a personal ritual for you to gather every blanket, pillow, and soft item you could find in the facility to create a giant, cozy nest to sleep in. The Hadal Blacksite was hardly known for its comfort, especially after the lockdown, so you took it upon yourself to transform the back of Sebastian’s shop into a haven of warmth and peace.

Wrapped in layers of blankets, only your head peeked out from the mound, your sea bunny antennae twitching slightly. Sebastian often glanced over at you with a mix of amusement and affection.

“You sleep a lot lately, bunny,” he chuckled, setting aside the file he had been reading. ���I might start to think you love that pile of blankets more than me at this point.”

You responded with a soft hum, barely lifting your head from the sea of fabric. The words were true; you had been spending an increasing amount of time resting and lounging around. Sometimes, you sprawled out on the floor like a starfish, and Sebastian had to gently pick you up to avoid any mishaps, like an expandable accidentally stepping on your delicate form.

Despite his teasing, there was a warmth in his eyes every time he looked at you. He cherished these moments of quiet companionship, even if they were punctuated by the gentle, playful banter.

The sight of you, nestled in your cozy pile of blankets, was so inviting that sometimes Sebastian couldn’t resist closing the shop earlier than usual. He’d join you in your fortress of softness, slipping into the pile of fabric with a contented sigh. Laying beside you, he would hold you close, his tail gently wrapping around your body as he settled in. His hands would drift to your antennae, where he’d softly massage the space between them, eliciting a delighted hum from you.

The two of you would lie there, not quite sleeping but basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Occasionally, Sebastian would lightly brush a stray strand of hair from your face or press a soft kiss to your temple, the gentle touches filled with affection. Your fingers would intertwine with his, and you’d both enjoy the peaceful silence, simply resting and savoring the comfort of being close.

In those moments, time seemed to slow down. You’d share lazy smiles, exchanging barely a word and just stay in a comforting silence. Sometimes, Sebastian would rest his chin on top of your head, and you’d sigh contentedly, your body relaxing further into the embrace...

Three months into your time together, on what seemed like an average day, Sebastian was out scavenging for supplies. He moved through the abandoned corridors with practiced ease, his eyes darting around with a sharp, attentive gaze. Each room he passed was briefly examined, every locker and shelf scrutinized for forgotten treasures and useful items.

As he rifled through the remnants of the old world, his attention was suddenly caught by a flash of something pristine—an untouched pillow, perfectly intact and just waiting to be added to your growing collection. For a split second, the sight of it seemed almost like a beacon, calling out to him with a soft glow of potential.

Sebastian had developed a little habit during these scavenger runs. He wouldn’t admit it, but his gift-giving had become a personal love language. While his primary goal was to find useful items for the shop, he also kept an eye out for anything that might make you smile. The way your eyes would light up with delight over even the simplest of things he brought back was a source of pure joy for him. It motivated him to turn part of his shop into a mini-storage of items he thought you’d like.

He carefully picked up the pillow, examining it with a satisfied nod before tucking it away in his bag. As he continued his search, he found himself thinking of you, imagining your reaction when you’d see this new addition to your cozy pile. The thought made him smile, his heart warming at the idea of bringing a bit more comfort to your world.

Returning to the shop, Sebastian's thoughts were occupied with the joy of seeing you unwrap the pillow. He could almost hear your excited gasp and see the way you’d curl up around it, adding yet another layer of softness to your makeshift haven. This small act of thoughtfulness was his way of showing you how much he cared, a tender gesture that spoke louder than words.

But then, amidst his searching, a sound shattered the fragile calm of the room. It was your voice, but not the cheerful, soothing tones he was used to. No, this was something far more harrowing. It was a desperate cry, a soul-wrenching scream that cut through the silence with a visceral, agonizing intensity. The sheer pain in your voice twisted his insides, making him feel as though his heart was being torn apart.

His ears twitched uncontrollably as he followed the sound, his steps becoming erratic and frantic. Each groan, each whimper, seemed to resonate with a chilling echo down the empty corridors. It was a haunting, relentless reminder of the suffering you were enduring. When he finally reached the source, he was met with a sight that stole the breath from his lungs. There you were, writhing in unimaginable pain, a tormented silhouette against the wall, your body contorted as if it were being torn apart from the inside.

Sebastian's vision blurred, and he felt a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow clawing at him. His mind raced back to the harsh truth he had desperately tried to suppress. He had known this day might come, had seen the ominous warnings in your medical file, but he had held onto a fragile hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t turn out this way. The file had warned him: your body was rejecting the sea bunny DNA.

The brutal irony of it all struck him with the force of a physical blow. All those scavenging trips, all the time he spent gathering trinkets and comforts for you, now seemed like a cruel, pointless exercise. The pillow he had so eagerly picked out for you, an innocent symbol of his affection, now felt like a mockery of your suffering.

As he reached out to you, the sight of your anguish was more than he could bear. It was as if his heart was being shredded with each cry of pain that escaped you. The agonizing truth was undeniable: you were slipping away from him, and no amount of love, no matter how fiercely he gave it, could alter the cruel fate that was unfolding.

Tears streamed down his face as he just stared at you, the pillow he had hoped would bring you comfort now a stark reminder of his helplessness. The realization that he was losing you, that he had to watch you suffer with nothing he could do to alleviate your pain, left him paralyzed with a sorrow so profound it seemed to stretch on endlessly.

He had been aware from the start that your time together was limited, but the crushing weight of that reality was more devastating than he had ever imagined. Seeing you in such excruciating agony, coupled with the crushing despair that his efforts to provide you comfort could not change the inevitable, left him feeling utterly and irrevocably shattered.

The thing that must have pained him the most was the cruel illusion he had woven around you. From the very beginning, you had been blissfully unaware of the full extent of your condition, shielded from the grim reality that had been kept from you. Urbanshade had long marked you as a lost cause, a waste of resources. They had kept you alive with medication, but the moment the lockdown had sealed off your lifeline, your fate had been sealed.

And it was Sebastian Solace, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, who had become the unwilling cause of your cruel reality. He had rescued you from the clutches of Urbanshade, pulling you into his life and making you live in these bittersweet conditions. He kept you at his side, sheltered you from the harsh truth, knowing full well that you were slowly, agonizingly, slipping away. He watched as your body rejected the very essence that made you unique, watched as the vibrant spirit he had fallen in love with was gradually consumed by pain.

The agony of it all was compounded by the facade he had maintained. To you, he was a beacon of love and stability, the one who had given you a new home, a new life. He had filled your days with small joys, with gifts and affection, all while knowing that each moment with you was a stolen fragment of time, a fleeting respite before the inevitable. He loved you too much to shatter the fragile world you had come to depend on, too much to burden you with the unbearable truth of your condition.

Every smile he saw on your face, every look of contentment in your eyes, was a dagger to his heart. The pain of watching you suffer, coupled with the torment of knowing he had to perpetuate the lie to keep you at peace, was a weight he carried in silence. He had given you comfort, affection, and a semblance of normalcy, all while knowing that it was a temporary reprieve from a fate that he could not alter.

The most excruciating part was the knowledge that you had been kept in the dark, living out your final days with an illusion of safety and love. He had chosen to be your protector and your companion, even as he knew that every moment he spent with you was tainted by the reality of your suffering. And in the end, the pain of watching you slowly succumb to your condition, while desperately trying to shield you from the truth, was a torment more profound than he could ever articulate.

Sebastian Solace set you free, on the one way or another.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝑀𝓎 𝒜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ 𝓉𝓋𝒶!𝓁𝑜𝓀𝒾 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁ You had always tried to avoid Loki since his arrival at the TVA. His presence seemed to bring chaos and unpredictability into your carefully organised world, and you preferred to keep your distance. But one day, as fate would have it, you found yourself colliding with him. The impact sent papers flying and your heart racing as you stumbled back, flustered and embarrassed. Loki, ever the picture of confidence, caught your eye with a smirk, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

At that moment, the tension between you crackled with electricity, and you realised that perhaps avoiding Loki wasn't as easy as you had thought... . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. slice of life, TVA Loki, canon divergent, no mention of Sylvie, pure fluff and smut, tension, mutual pining and office romance. NSFW, clothed sex, semi-public sex.

➜ ┊: oneshot ⋅ 11K words.

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above was a comforting constant as you sat at your desk, meticulously sorting through the day's paperwork. Rows of neatly organised files surrounded you, each one a testament to the precise and orderly world you had come to love at the Time Variance Authority. 

In fact, you had always liked working at the TVA. 

The structure and predictability of your job were a balm to your mind. Every morning you arrived at the same time, greeted by the same faces, and slipped into the same rhythm of work. It was calm, peaceful even, as your duties revolved around filling papers and ensuring everything was in order. The sense of security it provided was unparalleled. You had never known anything else, and you didn't need to. 

You weren't a field agent, tasked with the dangerous job of apprehending Variants. No, you were just a simple, normal, office employee. The closest you had ever come to the excitement and peril of the outside world were the stories shared by Mobius. His tales of daring chases and complex cases were fascinating, yet they felt like tales from another realm.

You preferred the stability of your office, far removed from the unpredictability of the timelines.

But everything changed the moment Mobius walked into the office with his new favourite companion in tow: Loki. The God of Mischief himself had entered your realm, and with him, he brought chaos and  mischief.

Loki's presence was impossible to ignore. He moved through the office with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his every step commanding attention. Conversations halted mid-sentence as heads turned to follow his steps. Whispers spread like wildfire, each tale more elaborate than the last, painting Loki as both a dangerous renegade and an irresistibly charming man.

Loki had a way of making everyone feel like they were the centre of his universe, if only for a moment. His mischievous smile, the glint in his green eyes, and the smooth cadence of his voice seemed to enchant everyone he encountered. The effect was especially noticeable among your female colleagues. They flocked to him, their laughter ringing louder, their smiles brighter, each one hoping to catch his attention.

You tried to remain detached, to focus on your work as you always had. After all, you prided yourself on your professionalism and your ability to maintain order in the midst of distraction. But it would be a lie to say you were unaffected. His charm was like a siren's call, drawing you in despite your best efforts to resist.

Not that Loki noticed you. In fact, you two had never even spoken.

You preferred to stay hidden behind your desk, your head down, your fingers flying over the paperwork. The uniform you wore, identical to everyone else's, served as a kind of camouflage, blending you into the sea of TVA employees. It was easy to be invisible, and that was exactly what you wanted—right?

While others seemed to bask in the glow of his attention, you observed from afar, your heart a quiet drum in your chest whenever he was near. You couldn't deny his charm or the way he seemed to draw everyone in, but you weren't eager to be caught in his orbit. 

The idea of his sharp eyes turning your way was both thrilling and terrifying. You told yourself it was better this way. Better to remain unnoticed. Yet, you couldn't help but watch him, stealing glances whenever you were sure he wouldn't see. His interactions with Mobius were particularly endearing. They seemed to share a friendship that was both unexpected and intriguing, that you could only admire from a distance.

One afternoon, while filing away another stack of reports, you overheard snippets of conversation from across the room. Loki's voice, rich and mocking, drifted over to you. "Mobius, you really think these people can keep the timelines in check? They can't even keep their desks tidy."

You glanced up just in time to see Mobius chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't underestimate the people here, Loki. They're the backbone of the TVA."

Loki's gaze swept across the office, and for a heart-stopping moment, it seemed to linger in your direction. You quickly ducked your head, focusing intently on the papers in front of you, praying he hadn't noticed your stare.

"Did you see that? Loki looked right over here!" one of your coworkers working right behind you exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Her friend, a usually reserved archivist, blushed and nodded.  "He did, didn't he? I thought I was imagining it."

"Imagine, the God of Mischief himself glancing our way. Do you think he noticed us?"

She shrugged, but her smile betrayed her delight. "Maybe he did. He's so... mesmerising and handsome..."

You tried to ignore their chatter, burying your attention deeper into your work. Yet, it was impossible not to feel a pang of something—envy, curiosity, or perhaps… a mix of both. 

As their excited whispers continued, you risked another glance in Loki's direction, as if to confirm whether he was looking at you or not. This time, you noticed that his eyes were not focused on you but the girls behind you. 

With a quiet sigh of relief, you realised that you hadn't been the target of his piercing gaze in the first place. 

Thankfully, after that little distraction, the rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and muted conversations. The excitement caused by Loki's presence gradually subsided, leaving a buzz of residual energy that lingered in the office. 

When the clock finally signalled the end of your shift, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. It was time to bring your finished reports to the archives and be done with your day. You gathered your files, neatly stacking them into a folder, and stood up, stretching your stiff muscles. 

The office had started to empty out, your colleagues drifting away to their own routines and lives. With a last quick glance around, you made your way to the archives, the path familiar and comforting—The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of fluorescent lights the only sound. 

As you approached the archive room, you pushed open the door to the archives, the cool air and musty scent of old paper welcoming you. The room was dimly lit, rows of shelves stretching into the distance, each one filled with the meticulously organised records of the TVA. 

You made your way to the designated section, classifying your report with practised ease.

As you slid the last folder into place, a sense of accomplishment settled over you. The day's work was done, and you could finally retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your quarters. You turned to leave, your thoughts already drifting to the comfort of your routine, when you suddenly collided with someone.

More precisely, your face collided with a solid, well-muscled chest, the impact sending papers scattering wildly to the floor around you. The chaos of fluttering documents mirrored the frenzy in your chest as your heart plummeted, preparing for the inevitable apology. 

The warmth of his body enveloped you, the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of musk and spice, filling your nostrils. His hand, rough and calloused, gripped your wrist, anchoring you to his chest to steady you. 

"I’m so sorry, I didn’t—" you began, looking up to meet the gaze of the person you had so clumsily bumped into. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized him. "Loki," you whispered, the realisation stealing your voice. The God of Mischief himself, tall, dark, and disarmingly handsome, gazed down at you with an arched eyebrow. His thin lips curled into a smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

"What have we here? The diligent office worker, causing quite the mess. How… unexpected."  Loki's throaty chuckle filled the air, sending shivers down your spine. "No harm done, little one. It’s ok."

In a flurry of nervous energy, you dropped to your knees, gathering the scattered parchment with frantic hands, desperate to regain some semblance of control. Loki joined you, his movements graceful and deliberate as he shared in your task. The closeness of his body sent your heart into a frenzied race, each brush of his fingers against yours leaving you reeling from the lightning bolts of sensation.

As you offered the final document, you dared to lift your gaze to meet his. His expression remained amused, but you swore you caught a glint of something more—a glimmer of curiosity or perhaps longing—hidden within the depths of his emerald eyes.

"Thank you, Loki," you breathed, attempting to steady your trembling hands. "I didn't mean to—"

"No need for apologies, Y/n," he interrupted gently, his voice deep and rich, a melodious rumble that seemed to echo through your very soul. Standing, he extended a hand to help you rise, his touch possessing an otherworldly warmth that seemed to seep into your very bones—he was perhaps a lot of things, but a gentleman and a prince, for sure.

You could feel the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne—spicy and forbidden—wrapping around you like a seductive fog. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this private sanctuary until—his words registered fully in your mind, and you blinked in surprise.

"Wait, how do you know my name?" you asked, your voice tinged with confusion and curiosity.

Loki's smirk widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, Mobius often talks about you and your amazing work. He speaks quite highly of you, actually."

Your eyes widened further, a mix of disbelief and a strange, fluttering sensation in your chest. "Mobius talks about me?"

"Indeed, I mean he is your boss," Loki said casually, as if discussing the weather. "He says you're the best at what you do, always meticulous and efficient. It seems you've made quite an impression on him."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, a mix of embarrassment and pride. Mobius had always been kind, but you had no idea he thought so highly of you. And the fact that Loki, of all people, knew about it was both flattering and daunting. "I... I had no idea," you stammered, trying to process this new information.

Loki chuckled softly, the sound rich and surprisingly comforting. "Well, now you do."

You met his gaze, your heart racing at the intensity of his eyes. For a moment, you felt something, a bridge between your orderly world and the chaos he represented. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

"Thank you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot."

Loki's expression softened, and he gave a nod of courtesy. "You're welcome, Y/n. Keep up the good work."

With that, he turned and went his way to classify his own files, leaving you standing in the dimly lit archive room, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The encounter had been brief, but it had left an indelible mark, shaking the foundations of your carefully constructed world.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next day at the TVA started just like any other. You slipped into your routine with the ease of long practice, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you processed reports and organised files. The office buzzed with its usual hum of activity, a comforting backdrop to your meticulous work. 

Despite your best efforts to maintain your focus, your mind kept drifting back to yesterday. The memory of his intense gaze, the way he had spoken your name—it all lingered in your thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

You watched Loki from afar, just as you had done before. He moved through the office with his characteristic blend of grace and mischief, drawing attention wherever he went. He conversed with Mobius and other agents, his laughter echoing through the grand office. You told yourself that nothing had changed. 

You were still just a diligent office worker, content with your quiet, orderly life. 

But now, knowing the weight of Loki's gaze, something inside you had shifted. It left you feeling unsatisfied, hungry for more. And that morning, you found yourself stealing glances at him more often, your heart skipping whenever he was near. But despite your best effort to catch his attention, nothing changed… What were you expecting? Perhaps you hoped Loki would greet you, a playful smile on his lips, and make a comment about how amusing it was when you had bumped into him the day before. 

Maybe you wanted him to acknowledge your presence for once?

No, you had to be content with what you had. You reminded yourself of this as you filed another report, trying to quell the restless desire that had taken root inside you since yesterday. Your job, your routine—they have always been enough. They had to be enough.

When it was finally time for lunch, you gathered your things with a heavy heart and made your way to the cafeteria. The anticipation from the morning had left you drained, a quiet disappointment settling in as you went through the motions of selecting your usual meal. The familiar tray of food did little to lift your spirits…

You navigated the crowded cafeteria, scanning for an empty table. As you unwrapped your sandwich and took a bite, your thoughts wandered back to Loki—Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure approaching your table until a shadow fell over you. 

You looked up, startled, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was.

"Do you mind if I take this seat?" Loki asked, his voice smooth and confident.

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The cafeteria noise seemed to fade into the background, and all you could focus on was the intensity of his gaze. "Um, no, I don't mind," you managed to say, gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

Loki smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and sat down gracefully. "Thank you. It's rather crowded today, isn't it?"

You nodded, trying to steady your racing heart. "Yeah, it usually is around this time."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. You took another bite of your sandwich, your mind racing with questions. Why was Loki sitting with you? What did he want?  Loki seemed to sense your unease. "I hope I'm not disturbing your lunch," he said, his tone casual. "I simply thought it might be nice to have some company—Mobius, unfortunately, is entangled in an important meeting." He said, in a dramatic tone.

You blinked in surprise, not quite believing your ears. "No, it's fine. I... I usually eat alone, or with my colleagues when they are free..." The last part was a lie, and he seems to pick up on that based on his smirk. 

"Well, then I'm glad I could change that today," Loki replied, his smile charming.

As you took another bite, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was the moment you had hoped for all morning. Yet, now that it was happening, you felt unsure of what to say or how to act.

Loki's gaze lingered on your face, a hint of curiosity glinting within his deep green eyes. He picked up his sandwich, taking a bite as he observed you with an air of calculated interest. The silence lingered for a moment more, heavy with the unspoken thoughts that coursed through your minds.

You, feeling the weight of his scrutiny, attempted to break the tension. "So, uh, how did you end up working here with Mobius anyway?" You asked, feigning nonchalance as you tore off a piece of your sandwich, your cheeks flushing at the question's clumsiness. “I only heard part of the story…”

Loki chewed, swallowed, and then replied with a playful grin, "Oh, a lucky encounter really—or perhaps, a misfortune for Mobius. He needs my help and expertise on variants, as I am one myself. Now, here I am, tapping away at a keyboard when they force me to behave and avoiding the wrath of the All-Father when I’m on the missions outside."

You chuckled, relieved by the ease in his response. "Well, it's a good thing for us then, right? A Loki by our side is quite unexpected." You smiled shyly, feeling a strange warmth bloom within your chest.

Loki's eyes sparkled, a mischievous glint dancing within them. "Indeed, and the office would be a far duller place without my charm and wit." He playfully winked, his confidence intoxicating.

You laughed, feeling a giddy thrill coursing through you. But, you weren't going to admit he was right. 

Loki leaned back in his chair, his arms resting casually on the table, a picture of unbridled leisure. "Enough about me, Y/n, tell me, what brings you joy in your daily office life?" His eyes held a glint of curiosity, a genuine interest in your life that made your heart swell with warmth.

You hesitated, taken aback by the earnestness in his question. "Well, I enjoy helping people. Organising meetings, coordinating schedules, ensuring everything runs smoothly, filling my reports in time," you admitted, your eyes flickering downwards in a display of coy modesty. “Nothing interesting…”

Loki's lips curved into a grin, the corners crinkling as he nodded. "Ah, the unsung heroine of bureaucracy. I can see why Mobius values your efforts so highly."

You smiled at the compliment, the praise melting away some of the insecurities that had plagued you throughout the day. "Mobius is an excellent leader. I'm glad to be part of his cause." Loki's teasing tone, combined with his genuine admiration, made you feel as if you were basking in the sun. His praise shone like gold, a moment of validation that left you beaming with pleasure. The teasing, though playful, was underpinned by respect and appreciation, a rare and heart-warming combination that left you feeling cherished and seen.

Loki chuckled at your response, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took another sip of his coffee. "His cause? I can see why Mobius's empire would crumble without your guiding hand."

Waving your hand, you brushed off his words with a blush, "Please, I'm hardly that important." You smiled sheepishly, genuinely flattered by his praise.

"On that note," Loki began, his tone teasing and playful, "I'm curious, Y/n. How was your morning? Mine has been so busy, I didn’t have the time to stop by your desk. I hope you’ll excuse my terrible manners."

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, realising how childish you had been to think Loki was avoiding you this morning. Clearly, he had been working hard, and here you were, cursing yourself for jumping to conclusions. You paused, before speaking. "Well, it was... hectic. A few reports due, a meeting cancelled at the last minute, and a printer malfunction to top it off."

Loki's eyebrows rose, feigning shock. "A printer malfunction? Oh, the horror!" His teasing tone was laced with an amused sincerity that put you at ease, a respite from the chaos of your workday.

You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, the tension dissipating as you found solace in his company. "I know, right? But, I'm glad it's almost over. Tomorrow's a fresh start."

"Speaking of tomorrow, Y/n," Loki leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "I'll be in the office again, of course. But, perhaps we can repeat today's pleasant interlude for lunch?" He winked, his charm as powerful as the sweetest nectar.

Your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your body at the suggestion. "I... I'd like that." You managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loki grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. "Excellent. I look forward to more delightful conversations with you, my dear Y/n. I’m glad we finally have the chance to talk."

With a nod, Loki stood, his hand brushing against yours once more as he gathered his things. Another shiver raced up your spine, the electrifying sensation leaving you breathless. "Until tomorrow, Y/n."

"Until tomorrow," you whispered back. Loki's eyes twinkled with mischief as he offered you a dazzling smile. He then turned and left the break room, his teasing words echoing in your mind.

As you watched him go, you felt breathless, your heart thudding in your chest. A dreamy smile tugged at your lips, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what tomorrow might bring. With a contented sigh, you finally left the break room a few moments later, the encounter replaying in your thoughts.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It seemed like fate liked to put you back in your place, reminding you of the reality of your daily life. A last-minute meeting left you no choice but to skip your lunch and forgo your usual break time—and in the process, the beginning of your lunch routine with Loki. With no time to leave a note on Loki's desk to excuse yourself, you were hurriedly ushered into the meeting room.

The meeting was a whirlwind of instructions and assignments, each one piling onto your already considerable workload. You barely had a moment to catch your breath as tasks were handed out one after another. By the time the meeting finally concluded, you felt drained and overwhelmed, a far cry from the excitement and anticipation you had felt earlier in the day at the prospect of spending time with him. 

You wondered what Loki might think. 

Would he understand, be angry, or would he see it as a sign of disinterest?

You could rack your brains and think of all the possible scenarios, at that moment you had no other choices than standing in the grand archives room, searching for a useful file related to a new variant case. The quiet, dusty atmosphere of the archives was a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the office. You moved between the towering shelves, your fingers trailing along the spines of countless folders and documents.

As you pulled out one of the files you needed, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Your encounter with Loki had felt like a brief escape from the monotony of your routine, a tantalising glimpse of something more. Yet, here you were, back in the grind of your daily duties.

And at that moment, you knew, why in the first place you didn’t want to have business with him. 

Sighing, you hugged the file to your chest and headed towards the next row of documents. Now, on your tip-toes, you stretched, trying to reach the file that seemed to taunt you from its lofty perch. Suddenly, a familiar masculine scent hung in the air, a perfume that left no guess to who it was as you felt a body press against your back. Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected contact, and you closed your eyes, savouring the warmth.

A warm shiver ran down your spine as his breath ghosted over your ear, whispering, "Need help, Y/n?" The vibration of his voice was enough to steal your breath, and yet, it was his hands—strong yet gentle—that did the real work, lifting you to stand on the tips of his feet.

The file was within your grasp, and as you brought it down, Loki's arms slid around your waist, giving you a momentary squeeze before releasing you. His palms lingered for a moment, leaving tingles in their wake, before dropping away. As you turned around, trapped between the shelves and Loki's towering figure, you met his gaze, his green eyes flickering with a mix of temper and concern. His presence, looming and overpowering, made your heart race, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

"I see you're avoiding me," he said, his voice a low growl, thick with displeasure, as if you'd wronged him deeply. "That's not a good idea, Y/n. I don't like to be fooled around, or left waiting." Your eyes darted away, unable to meet his gaze as he added, "I thought it was over," a sharp bite to his words. "I thought you were finally not avoiding me anymore."

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks, and you felt yourself shrink back under his unrelenting scrutiny. "Loki, I—" You struggled for words, the guilt you'd managed to suppress threatening to bubble over. "I-I'm sorry. The meeting at the last minute left me no choice," you whispered shakily.

Loki's gaze was unyielding as he questioned, "You could have found a way. If you wanted to."

You swallowed, your voice wavering. "I promise, I wasn't avoiding you. It's just... things have been hectic."

His eyes narrowed, the anger in them a slow burning fuse. "You've been avoiding me since I arrived, Y/n. Don't try to deny it.” Your heart leapt into your throat, and you found yourself at a loss for words, utterly speechless. 

Loki stepped closer, crowding the space between you, his heat a palpable presence, as he continued, "If you've changed your mind, if you don't want me anymore, then say it. Don't leave me guessing and waiting for something that might never come." His voice was a demanding rumble, laced with frustration and hints of something more, a need that twisted through you like a thorn. 

In that tense, intimate space, you felt the weight of his words, a heavy burden that left you unable to move, unable to deny the truth of what he said. As the seconds stretched on, your breath hitched, and you couldn't seem to break free from his captivating gaze.

Loki's voice, a low, menacing growl, filled the space between you, his words heavy with unspoken threats. "I'm not used to being ignored, Y/n. In the beginning, I thought maybe you hated me, but then..."

His hand, large and commanding, began to move, trailing alongside your thigh, the contact upon your skin only separated by the thin fabric of your tights, sending shivers down your spine. You let out a soft gasp, your breath hitching as he continued, "I caught you staring at me more than once. Why, Y/n, if you didn't want me, would you spend so much time looking at me?"

The intimate touch, coupled with Loki's intense scrutiny, left you breathless, your chest heaving as you struggled to find the right words. "I-I..."

He leaned in, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. "Tell me, Y/n. Tell me what's really going on, and why you never seemed to be happy to see me."

The heat from his hand radiated through you, the pressure of his fingers making you needy. Your heart raced, and you licked your lips, the truth, so long denied, bubbling to the surface. The weight of his unyielding gaze forced you to confront the desires you'd been suppressing. It was a moment where you could no longer hide.

"What game do you play, Y/n?" he asked, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Do you enjoy the chase? Or are you afraid of what you'd find if you let me in?"

As Loki's hand lifted your shirt and the other slipped beneath your skirt, you felt a surge of heat flood your body, mingling with the fear of discovery. His fingers grazed the warm, soft skin of your inner thigh, inching closer to the forbidden territory between your legs.

"No, Loki, we're at work," you stammered, your voice shaking as you tried to push his hand away, but you weren’t truly convincing in your actions. "Someone might find us."

But Loki's grip on your thigh was firm, unyielding, as he continued his relentless pursuit. His eyes held a burning intensity, the lust and need there impossible to ignore. "I won't stop, Y/n, until you tell me the truth," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

You squirmed beneath his touch, a whirlwind of emotions crashing within you. Loki's fingers traced the delicate skin, daring to graze the damp fabric that hid your most intimate secrets.

"I've tried the kinder method, Y/n. Coaxing, seduction, but I can't stand it any longer," he said, the frustration in his voice giving way to raw need. "I need to know what's at the heart of this game you play."

You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and heavy, as his hand slipped beneath your panties, his long fingers teasing the slick heat that awaited him. His thumb brushed against your clit, sending shudders through your body, as he pressed on with a single-minded determination.

Loki's fingers delved deeper into your moist folds, his thumb continuing to circle your clit in a slow, tantalising rhythm. Your body arched into his touch, the pleasure building within you like an inferno, threatening to consume you whole.

His hand moved with an unhurried, almost languid pace, as if savouring the moment, and you couldn't help the moans that escaped your lips. Your nipples hardened against your shirt, straining towards his touch, as the heat between your legs intensified, your arousal slick and voracious.

You clung to his TVA jacket, your legs trembling, as Loki continued his relentless pursuit of your pleasure. The room around you seemed to shrink, narrowing to a single point of focus, the hand that teased you mercilessly.

His other hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head back and to meet his gaze, exposing your throat to his hungry gaze. "Tell me, now. Why do you push me away when you so clearly desire me and my attention?" he growled, his voice heavy with need, as his thumb continued to tease your swollen bud.

The room seemed to spin, the world outside the archives fading away, leaving nothing but the two of you, trapped in a web of lust and deceit. You bit your lip, the truth threatening to spill from your lips, as the line between pleasure and defiance blurred. The God of Mischief's touch, once a source of tension, now threatens to unravel the very core of your being.

You tried to deny his claim, to insist that you never wanted his attention, but the words caught in your throat, because they were lies. The pleasure he'd wrought, the vulnerability he'd exposed, left your denial hollow and meaningless.

But before the moment could resolve, Mobius' voice echoed through the archives, shattering the intimate spell. "Loki! Y/n! We've got a situation," he called out, his voice urgent.

Loki's hand stilled, his eyes never straying from yours for a moment. Then, with a wicked smirk, he pulled his hand away, bringing it up to his lips. Your breath hitched as you watched, wide-eyed, as he licked and tasted your juices, a sinful act that only served to heighten your arousal.

As Loki stood, the air around you thick with unsated desire, he said, "If you really don't want me, I won't press you any further." His tone was teasing. You felt hot and bothered, the lingering touch of the God of Mischief leaving you reeling. Loki's gaze held a challenge, a promise of what might have been. 

The aftermath of Loki's touch lingered, a burning ember that refused to be quenched. The cat and mouse game had intensified, and the passion between you was more volatile than ever before.

Mobius appeared at the scene, his brow furrowed as he took in the sight of the two of you, standing so close, the air between you thick with unspoken desire. "Y/n, Loki. What are you doing here? We have so much to do," he said, arching an eyebrow in disapproval.

He scolded you both, his voice laced with frustration. "You need to focus on the task at hand. There are countless Time anomalies to fix. Geez!"

The remnants of your heated encounter, the lingering scent of your arousal, and the smirk on Loki's face, escaped Mobius' notice. He seemed unaware of the tension that had just passed between you, his focus solely on the work at hand.

"Right. Sorry, Mobius," you mumbled, your cheeks flushed, as you tried to compose yourself, discreetly fixing your skirt. Loki, however, gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes never leaving yours.

Mobius sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Alright. Let's get to work then. We'll need to prioritise the most urgent cases first."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

If you really don't want me, I won't press you any further.

How dare he?! Of course you wanted him. 

You had always prided yourself on being wise, diligent, and organised. Your life at the TVA was meticulously structured, each task carefully planned and executed with precision. Yet, after your last encounter with Loki—heated and intense in the archives room—everything you prided yourself on seemed to be slipping away. 

The conversation replayed in your mind endlessly. His words, his piercing gaze, the way he had called out your supposed avoidance. You had tried to explain, to justify your actions, but it seemed nothing was enough for him (and you had to admit that you didn’t explain yourself clearly...). But, in any case, how dare he insinuate that you were avoiding him? When he had never talked to you before, it wasn’t avoidance, right? 

How dare he tease you with such intensity and then claim he wouldn’t press you further?

All day, you found yourself restless and unfocused, a stark contrast to your usual composed self. The neat stacks of paperwork on your desk seemed to mock you, a reminder of the order you once maintained but now struggled to uphold. Your mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki—it seems like he was the only one in your mind since he had arrived, and now you couldn’t deny yourself. 

You were relentless, hungry, and angry. Angry at Loki for his reckless actions and accusations, but also angry at yourself for letting him affect you so deeply. It didn’t sit right with you that he would provoke such a reaction, then leave you to deal with the aftermath alone.

As you worked through another stack of reports, you couldn't shake the feeling of injustice. You had been busy with one meeting—just one—and yet, it felt like your entire world had been turned upside down because of it. 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. The rational part of you knew you needed to regain your composure, to return to the calm and collected person you had always been. But the emotional part of you, refused to be silenced.

Maybe it was time to confront him, to make him understand your side of things. Maybe it was time to stop letting him control the narrative and to reclaim the order and stability you had always cherished. The thought of facing him again sent a thrill of both fear and lust through you, but you knew it was something you had to do. 

After all, you had always prided yourself on being wise, diligent, and organised. 

And you would be those things again—no matter what Loki might throw your way.

Suddenly, you stood up, files in hand, and took a deep breath, trying to gather the small part of your bravery that you never thought you had. With what you hoped was a confident stride, you made your way to Loki's desk. He seemed to be doing everything but working, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers.

You didn't hesitate. Approaching his desk, you firmly placed the files down and, in one smooth motion, sat on the edge of his desk crossing your legs as you did so. The fabric of your skirt lifted, revealing a tantalising glimpse of your thighs, a deliberate tease that left you exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes locked with Loki's, daring him to look, to invade your space, to claim what he coveted.

Loki's gaze flickered to your thighs, his eyes lingering on the tender flesh before snapping back to meet yours. The spark of curiosity and amusement in his gaze flared into a fire, the heat of desire stoked by the brazen invitation you'd issued. 

"Not working, I see," you called out, your voice sharper than you intended. "While the rest of us are buried under mountains of paperwork and last-minute meetings, you're here playing with a pen."

Loki's eyes sparkled with interest, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "Ah, Y/n. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" His tone was smooth, almost mocking.

You straighten your posture, trying to maintain your composure. "I wanted to talk to you about our last conversation. You accused me of avoiding you, and I need you to understand that I wasn't. I had responsibilities, a meeting I couldn't skip."

Loki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Responsibilities, yes. But I wonder if you were using them as an excuse."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Excuse? No, Loki, I take my work seriously. Just because I have duties doesn't mean I'm avoiding you." You whispered, trying not to bring too much attention to the two of you. 

He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving the pen as it continued its slow, sensual rotation. "But why were you avoiding me before all this, Y/n?" Your gaze lingered on Loki's fingers, now keenly aware of the pleasure they could bring. The memory of his touch between your legs, the way he sent shivers down your spine, made you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a shudder of desire.

You felt a surge of arousal, your thoughts racing as you struggled to form a response. "We never talked before, Loki. We weren't acquainted, so I didn't see a reason to approach you."

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and probing. "That may be true, but it doesn't explain the way you stared at me. The way your eyes would linger, watching me from afar."

A flush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you felt a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. "I... I wasn't staring," you stammered, trying to downplay the truth. "I was just... observing."

Loki's lips curved into a sly smile. "Observing, were you? Interesting choice of words."

You felt your face heat up even more, and you quickly hushed him, not wanting to delve deeper into your own feelings. "Loki, please. This isn't the time or place."

Loki's eyes gleamed with mischief as he teased you further. "Perhaps, Y/n, but what if I'm not done with our little conversation? Presenting yourself with so much boldness I never thought you could have in you."

As he spoke, his hand crept upward, the movement so subtle that only the sharpest observer would notice. It ghosted up the inside of your thigh, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but tremble at the sensation, your body betraying your feeble attempts to resist his advances. "Loki..." you breathed out, your voice a mix of desire and caution.

"Do you want me to stop?" Loki asked, his voice a velvety growl. His hand paused, hovering just above your knee, waiting for your reply like a predator eyeing its prey. “I assume that if you are here, after all, it’s because you actually want me—at least, more than you care to admit.”

You hesitated, your heart racing as his finger lingered tantalisingly close to the forbidden territory. Loki's gaze was intense, piercing right into your soul, leaving you both exposed and vulnerable.

"No, but…" you whispered, the word escaping your lips before you could fully process its implications. Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, a testament to the turmoil raging within.

Loki's lips curved into a sly smile as his hand resumed its journey, inching higher up your inner thigh. Your breath hitched, the sensation of his touch sending shivers through your body. Just as you felt yourself falling deeper into the enchanting vortex of desire, your pragmatism reasserted itself. 

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, the skirt falling back into place, concealing the trail Loki's hand had just traced. "I'm sorry, Loki," you said, your voice steady, "but I'm here to give you these reports, and nothing more." Your eyes met his, a challenge in their depths, daring him to contest your words. "You've got work to do, after all."

Loki's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wondered if he would defy you, but then he nodded. "Very well… Y/n. I'll get to work." He talked through his teeth, and you knew he wasn’t pleased. As you stepped back, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable bulge pressing against the seam of Loki's tight pants. The hard outline, clearly visible beneath the fabric, left no doubt as to the reason behind his frustration.

Your eyes darted away, unable to meet his gaze as you felt a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. The knowledge that simply being in your presence had triggered such a strong response in Loki was both intoxicating and surprising.

You gave him a brief, reassuring smile before turning on your heel. "I'll leave you to your work now, Loki," you said, your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions coursing through you. You placed the files on his desk, your fingers brushing against his momentarily. There was no way things were going to be the same after that.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

After your little break at Loki's desk, the rest of the day took a nosedive. Meetings piled up, deadlines loomed larger, and the usual hum of the office became an overwhelming cacophony. Every time you glanced at the clock, the hands seemed to have barely moved, and your workload only grew.

Paperwork seemed to multiply, each new task more urgent than the last. Your usual efficiency was tested to its limits, and you found yourself making more trips to the archives room, fetching files and data for reports that never seemed to end. 

The frustration you had felt earlier in the day transformed into a relentless drive to get through your tasks, fueled partly by your need to prove to Loki—and to yourself—that you were as dedicated and capable as you'd claimed. Yet, despite your best efforts, the mountain of work refused to shrink.

Before you knew it, the office had emptied out. The usual chatter and activity died down, replaced by an eerie silence. You glanced at the clock and realised with a start that it was well past the end of the workday. 

You sighed deeply, rubbing your tired eyes. Your desk was still covered in unfinished paperwork, and the dim lighting of the office made the stacks of files look even more daunting. As you leaned back in your chair, you felt the weight of the day's events pressing down on you.

A part of you considered calling it a night and leaving the rest for tomorrow, but another part—pushed you to keep going. You had made a promise to yourself, and you intended to keep it, even if it meant staying late.

Just as you were about to dive back into your work, you heard a soft knock on your desk. Looking up, you were surprised to see Loki standing there, his usual air of confidence softened by a hint of concern.

"Still working, Y/n?" he asked, his voice gentle. "You should know when to take a break."

You managed a tired smile. "I lost track of time. There’s just so much to do with this new case."

Loki's gaze softened, and he took a step closer. "Even the most diligent need rest. Let me help."

You blinked, taken aback by his offer. "Help? You?"

He chuckled softly. "Don't sound so surprised. I may be a god of mischief, but even I can lend a hand when needed."

Despite your exhaustion, you felt a warm flutter in your chest. "Alright," you said, scooting over to make room for him. "But no tricks."

Loki grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. "No tricks, I promise. Just a bit of assistance."

As he settled beside you and began sorting through the paperwork, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and gratitude. Maybe, just maybe, the rest of the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The two of you started to work in silence, an oddly comfortable atmosphere settling between you. The rhythmic shuffling of papers and the occasional scribble of a pen filled the air.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at your limbs, you found solace in his quiet companionship.

Loki worked beside you with surprising efficiency, his long fingers deftly sorting through documents and making notes. You stole a few glances at him, still finding it hard to reconcile the image of the mischievous god with the diligent assistant now by your side. Minutes stretched into hours, and the initial tension gradually eased. It was almost easy to forget the tumultuous events that had brought you to this moment.

But then, breaking the silence, Loki suddenly spoke up. "Y/n, about yesterday in the archives room..."

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a rare seriousness in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

"I need to apologise for my behaviour," he continued, his voice low and sincere. "I should have asked for your consent before touching you. It was inappropriate and disrespectful."

You were taken aback by his apology. Loki, the God of Mischief, admitting fault so openly? It was a side of him you hadn’t expected. "It’s... okay," you managed to say, though the memory of his touch still lingered, both exhilarating and thrilling. "I appreciate your apology, Loki."

He nodded, a hint of relief in his expression. "Thank you for understanding. I’ve spent so long using charm and manipulation that I sometimes forget the importance of boundaries."

Feigning offence, you raised an eyebrow and asked, "So, have you been manipulating me all this time?"

Loki’s eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly shook his head. "No, not at all. It’s not like that. I haven't been able to control myself around you because... well, I’ve actually been looking forward to spending time with you and learning more about you."

Your feigned offence melted away, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Really?”

Loki let out a sigh, his voice laced with a touch of vulnerability. "Yes. You intrigue me, Y/n. You're like a puzzle I can't solve. I'll admit, yesterday, I was eager for our lunch, and when it didn't happen, it was my own temper that frustrated me, not you."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Well, you certainly know how to leave an impression, Loki."

Loki hesitated for a moment, then shyly took your hand in his. The unexpected warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine. His fingers were cool and smooth, contrasting with the warmth of your own. He looked down at your intertwined hands for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I have a confession to make," he said softly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "I’ve watched you from afar too. I tried to catch your attention so many times, but it seemed like whatever I did, you never noticed me."

You looked at him, taken aback by his admission. "You were trying to catch my attention?"

He nodded, his gaze earnest and open, a rare vulnerability shining through. "Yes. It frustrated me to no end. You were always so absorbed in your work, so dedicated. I admired that about you, but I also felt... invisible."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never imagined that Loki, with all his charisma and presence, could feel invisible. You squeezed his hand gently, the simple touch conveying more than words ever could. "I noticed you, Loki. More than you might think."

Loki's eyes softened, his guarded expression melting away to reveal a tentative smile. "I’m glad to hear that. I suppose we were both watching each other from a distance, too afraid to make the first move."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and connection wash over you. "Maybe it's time we stopped watching from afar and started getting to know each other."

Loki's chuckle was soft, and his thumb brushed across your knuckles sensually. "I believe that's an invitation I would be more than happy to accept, Y/n." For a moment, you both sat there, hands intertwined, the weight of unspoken words and past misunderstandings lifting. 

After a moment, Loki's eyes gleamed with a newfound confidence as he held your hand, his smile playful and inviting. "Y/n, I take it that means you're open to the idea of us getting to know each other better, hmmm?"

The atmosphere between you grew thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of unspoken desires and the lingering heat from the moments before. You couldn't deny the magnetic pull between you, the undeniable longing to explore the depths of what could be. You returned Loki's smile with a shy one of yours, a knowing look in your eyes. "I would like that, Loki. Very much so."

At your words, Loki smirked, a dangerous light in his eyes as he led you through the halls, his grip on your hand tightening. He could feel your heart racing, and it was a thrill. The office was empty, the staff long gone, and the only light was from the halls, casting shadows that danced along the walls.

As you neared the elevator, Loki pressed you against it, his other hand tangling in your hair as he captured your lips in a needy and impatient kiss. His tongue danced with yours, a masterful display of dominance, and you found yourself moaning into the kiss. It was raw, primal, and everything you never knew you needed.

Amidst the heated passion, you managed to gasp out, "Loki, what are we doing?"

He pulled back from the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with sinister hunger. "Exactly what we've both been craving, my dear Y/n," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

The sound of the elevator ding broke through the haze of desire, and the doors opened. Loki wasted no time, pushing you inside and pinning you against the wall with a hunger that matched the intensity of his gaze. His hands moved with practised skill, swiftly removing your blazer as his lips sought out the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Then, Loki's hand gripped your hips, as he tore at your blouse as he unveiled your pert breasts. His lips crashed onto your neck, his teeth grazing your skin marking you, and you couldn't help but arch into him.

He kneeled before you, his hands sliding your skirt up, revealing your lace panties. With a smirk, he lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to lick at the lace. Your hands clutched his dark hair, your body trembling as he tasted you through the fabric.

"Please, Loki," you begged, your voice shaking. Loki's eyes flashed up to yours, and he smiled wickedly before standing, pulling your panties and underwear down, leaving you completely naked. He admired your body for a moment, his eyes lingering on your wet pussy, “Mine, little one.”

"Oh, Loki," you moaned, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through you. The sensation of his tongue sent shivers down your spine.

Loki laughed darkly, his tongue continuing to tease you, "Patience, Y/n. We're still in public, after all."

He stood, pulling you against his still fully clothed body, "But that doesn't mean I can't tease you." He trailed kisses up your neck, his hands moving to your breasts, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipples.

You whimpered, your head falling back as you begged for more. "Loki, I need you. I want you to take me, to have me."

Loki's eyes brightened, his hunger for you palpable. "You'll have me soon enough, Y/n. But first, I need to confess something."

You looked at him curiously, your hands moving to cup his face. "Anything, Loki."

He leaned in, whispering into your ear, "I've wanted to do this to you for so long. To claim you, to make you mine, to fill you with my seed and watch as you scream my name. It's been a burning desire that has consumed me— ever since I arrived here."

A shiver ran down your spine as his words washed over you. "And now?" you breathed, your voice trembling with want.

Loki smirked, "Now, it's finally happening, Y/n. Tonight, you're mine, and I'm going to pleasure you in ways you've never even dreamed of."

His lips captured yours in a scorching kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, demanding your surrender. You gave it willingly, your hands tangling in his hair, your bodies pressed tightly together.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with lust. "Come, Y/n. Let's find a more private place where I can truly show you the depths of my desires." Loki scooped you into his arms, the warmth of his body enveloping yours as you looked into his eyes. A knowing smile played on his lips, his eyes dark with lust, promise, and affection.

As the elevator dinged, signalling its final destination, Loki stepped outside, cradling you like a precious treasure and in one smooth motion, he retrieved your discarded clothes from the floor and tucked them under one arm, ensuring that your modesty remained intact.

As the elevator doors opened, Loki strode out confidently, his steps sure and purposeful. Once in his room, he carried you over to his bed. Loki set you down gently, your legs dangling off the edge as he moved to stand in front of you.

You could feel the heat coming off him in waves, the lust in his eyes driving you wild. "Loki," you breathed, your hands reaching up to grip his shirt. "Please, don't make me wait any longer."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before he whispered, "Then wait no longer, Y/n. Tonight, all your desires will be met." He leaned down, his kiss was desperate, hungry, and consumed with the need to have more of you. Loki's strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His massive erection pressed against your stomach, a hard, insistent reminder of his desire for you.

Your nipples hardened against the fabric of his shirt, aching for his touch. You arched into him, your tongue eagerly meeting his as he explored your mouth with the same lust he had in his eyes. 

Loki growled, his teeth grazing your neck as he trailed kisses along your jawline. You shivered, your breathing ragged as he cupped one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly. He pinched your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and arch even more into his grip.

He kissed down your chest, and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it hard while his fingers played with the other. You moaned, your hands fumbling with his belt, unbuckling it as he switched to the other nipple. Your fingers found the hard length of him through his pants, stroking through the fabric. He groaned, releasing your breast to yank his pants and boxers down, springing his cock free.

Hot breath ghosted over your now-hard nipple as Loki looked up at you, his eyes burning with lust. "Touch me, Y/n. Make me feel how much you want me."

Without hesitation, you wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, squeezing it firmly. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to stroke him. The tip of his cock glistened heavily with precum, and you smeared it across your sensitive nipple, making you gasp and arch into him.

Loki's hand slid between your legs, his fingers making contact with your swollen clit. You cried out, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more. Loki's other hand moved to your hair, gripping it tightly as he leaned you back against the soft fabric of his mattress. He kissed you again, his tongue invading your mouth as he rubbed your clit and stroked your entrance. You could feel the slick heat building between your legs, your desire for him growing with every touch.

He broke the kiss, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "Beg for me, Y/n. Tell me how much you want my cock in your tight little pussy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, the desire to please him and experience the pleasure he promised overwhelming. "Please, Loki," you panted, your voice hoarse. "I need your cock inside me. I want you to fill me up, to make me yours." Your gaze locked onto his as you reached for the hem of his shirt, your fingers trembling with anticipation. With a gentle tug, you pulled the fabric upwards, revealing his chiselled chest, his body a testament to the Gods.

Loki smirked, his eyes dark with lust. "Then spread your legs, Y/n, and let me claim what I want." He shifted his position, his muscles rippling as he moved, the sight of him sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers trailed over his sweat-slick skin, feeling the heat radiating from his body. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his chest, your senses alive with the scent of his masculine aroma.

Finally, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, filled with desire. "You're handsome," you whispered, your voice soft and breathless. Then, you did as he commanded, spreading your legs and lifting your hips as he slipped two fingers into your slick depths. You moaned, your back arching as he began to fuck you roughly. The sensation of his fingers inside you, coupled with the feeling of his cock in your hand, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Loki smirked, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, his thumb brushing against your jawline. "And you, Y/n, are the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on." Loki's fingers trailed down to your core, parting your folds and teasing your clit. His touch was electrifying, your body arching into him.

"Faster," you whimpered, your body aching for more. "Please, Loki, fuck me faster."

Just as you were about to climax, Loki pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping and panting. He positioned his cock at your entrance, rubbing the head against your swollen lips. "Now, Y/n," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Come for me."

You nodded obediently, your eyes wide with need. Loki thrust into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. You screamed, the sensation of his girth filling you pushing you over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over you as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you.

Loki began to thrust, each stroke filling you completely, his cock slick with your juices. You met his thrusts, your hips rocking back against him as the heat between your legs intensified. Loki grunted, his pace increasing as he neared his own climax.

"Cum for me, Y/n," he panted, his voice strained. "Make me feel like a god when I fill you up."

You moaned, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "I-I'm close, Loki, I'm so close."

Loki's eyes glimmered as he watched you, his hands roaming your body, leaving a trail of fire as his fingers glided over your skin. "If only the others knew how filthy their diligent coworkers were," he whispered, his voice dripping with mischief. "How you crave the touch of a god, longing for your chains to be broken and your true desires to be unleashed." He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands continued to worship your body. His fingers trailed over your breast, teasing your sensitive nipples once again.

"You're a goddess in my eyes, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and desire. "A divine being, deserving of nothing less than the deepest worship and most carnal of pleasures."

Loki's thrusts became more forceful, his hips slamming into yours as he reached his peak. He roared your name, his cock jerking as he filled you with his hot seed. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as you experienced another, more intense orgasm, the two of you lost in each other's arms.

Finally, as the aftershocks subsided, Loki pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. He leaned in to kiss you deeply, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"That," he whispered, his voice a husky murmur against your skin, his breath warm and enticing as he nestled beside you, his arm draped possessively around your waist, "Was only the beginning, my dear Y/n. The beginning of us getting to know each other, of us exploring each other's desires."

You smiled, your chest still rising and falling with the lingering intensity of your shared passion. Pressed against him, you basked in the warmth that enveloped you, the aftermath of your lovemaking leaving you both fulfilled and content. Loki's grin widened, a glimmer of promise dancing in his eyes as he bestowed a final, tender kiss upon your lips. Holding you close, his presence a comforting anchor, he nuzzled against your neck, his touch gentle and reassuring.

In the quiet of the moment, the stillness punctuated only by the rhythm of your breaths and the soft rustle of sheets, you suddenly became acutely aware of the depth of your feelings for him.

"Loki," you murmured, your voice a mere whisper, "I..." Nerves fluttered in your stomach, but the love swelling within you eclipsed any apprehension. "I love you."

Loki's embrace tightened around you, his gaze locking onto yours, his emotions laid bare in his eyes. A soft, tender smile graced his lips as he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours. "Plot twist, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against your skin, "I love you too."

The words hung in the air, a tangible declaration of the bond that had formed between you, binding you together in a web of love and desire. And as you lay entwined with Loki, you couldn't help but wonder that each moment had led you here, to this bed, with Loki's arms around you and his heart beating in sync with yours.

You traced lazy patterns against his chest, savouring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. The rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of your own, a soothing melody that filled the room with a sense of peace.

As the minutes stretched into hours, you lost track of time, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Words became unnecessary, replaced by the silent language of touch and gaze, of shared breaths and lingering kisses.

And in that suspended moment, surrounded by the warmth of Loki's embrace, you knew that this was just the beginning of a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next day at the TVA seemed like any other, with paperwork piled high and the hum of activity filling the air. You tried your best to act as though nothing had changed between you and Loki, but the memory of your shared confession lingered in the back of your mind, adding an extra layer of tension to your interactions.

As you made your way through the office, Loki fell into step beside you, his demeanour relaxed and nonchalant. "Good morning, love," he greeted you casually, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You froze mid-step, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as Loki's endearment hung in the air. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Mobius raising an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze flickering between you and Loki with keen interest.

"Love?" Mobius echoed, his tone laced with amusement. "Since when did you two become so... affectionate?"

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to regain your composure. "Uh, it's nothing, Mobius," you stammered, shooting Loki a warning glance. "Just a... figure of speech."

But Loki merely smirked, undeterred by Mobius' scrutiny. "Oh, it's much more than that, Mobius," he replied, his voice dripping with mischief. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

You groaned inwardly, realising that Loki had no intention of letting you off the hook. With a resigned sigh, you shot Mobius an apologetic look before turning back to Loki. "Fine," you conceded, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But let's keep the pet names to a minimum, okay?"

Loki chuckled, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "As you wish, honey." And with that, he sauntered off, leaving you to face Mobius' raised eyebrow and knowing smirk alone.

As you returned to your work, you couldn't help but shake your head at the unpredictable chaos that seemed to follow Loki wherever he went. But despite the embarrassment of the moment, you couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in your chest at the thought of being called "love" by the God of Mischief himself.

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜

[miguelhugger2099]

Power of the Sun

Summary: You're Doc O'Hara's assistant A/N: tentacle pron? Art: vencipality on twt

Miguel x Reader, No warnings, a little violent/screaming, Angst?, Word Count: 3,004

Miguel was a man of science. He took pride in his work but was always humble about it. He was a kind mentor, encouraging young brilliant minds to pursue their passion in science and math, connecting with his peers and exchanging ideas to enrich and evolve humankind for the greater good. Knowledge is not a privilege, it’s a gift, he would say. Like any other one of his colleagues and apprentices, you admired him and his work. You followed him around as his assistant and confidant. Miguel trusted you after many years and you had fallen in love with him after many years. For a while, it had remained one-sided. A love you kept to yourself and didn’t believe that a man so brilliant as him would ever fall for someone like his subordinate. He deserved someone equally as knowledgeable–capable of keeping up with him. “Dr. O’Hara, I’ve printed all the documents of the latest experimentation process as well as sending a copy to Osborn.” You walked in his vast lab, heels clicking with each step against the marbled floor. Miguel was all the way in the back, only a dim fluorescent light highlighting him and whatever he was working on. His face was scrunched together as he focused on the task at hand. However when he heard your voice, he looked over his shoulder and his scowl melted. He called out your name gently, now a small smile on his face. He joined you in the middle, hands out as he collected the papers from your hands. He briefly flipped through the pages, scanning with his eyes before looking back up at you. He patted the front pages with the back of his hand and nudged his glasses up further his nose. “What would I do without you?” You flush, scoffing and looking to the side before reverting back to him. “You’d be fine, Dr.O’Hara.” You shake your head and swerve around him to take a look at whatever he was working on.

Miguel turns. “I beg to differ. For years, you’ve been a great asset at my side.” You hum. “And for years, you keep telling me that. But really, Doctor, it’s you who does the actual revolutionary actions.” He meets you at your side once he’s placed the papers securely somewhere. “Miguel.” He corrects you. “We’ve been together all this time. You know what else I keep telling you? That honorifics is unnecessary. Call me Miguel.” You clear your throat. “Okay, Miguel.” No matter how many times he reminded you, you would always say his name before reverting back to calling him Doctor. Perhaps habits are hard to break. “How’s it coming along?” You turn your head to see what he had been working on for a long time now. Miguel brightened up, standing straight and walking around the device. Four long green mechanical tentacles held up on their own all attached to a long spinal machine. He grazed his hands over the tentacles, admiring his own work. “We’re close, darling. It just needs some testing.” “Well if you’d like I could set up a volunteering headline for–” “No, no, no!” He stopped you by shaking his head and hands. “No, I–we can’t let this get out to the public yet. This is for the expo next month where Osborn will be. Perhaps he can finally understand why I’m doing this…” He mumbles to himself. You’re taken aback by his outburst but you rationalize it by thinking how exhausted he might be. Ever since Norman Osborn had disregarded Miguel’s research, Miguel had been working on crunch time to prove the CEO wrong. “Then how will you test it?” Your hand comes up to hold a claw from one of the tentacles. You examine the carbon fiber skeleton that Miguel used, trying to find the details of the prosthetic. Miguel admires you from the side, his eyes longing and far as he watches.

“I’ll–” He sighs. “I’ll think of…someone.” He murmurs. He feels an ache in his chest and looks back at his invention. The green of the arms glow softly against his brown skin, reflecting off his glasses. He looks over at you and sees the same for you. The curve of your cheeks and the light in your eyes tinged with green. “You know, um. It’s been a while since we’ve-eh- hung out?” Miguel stammers, taking off his glasses and cleans the right lens with his lab coat. “Maybe later tonight we could–if you like, of course– to join me for dinner?” He coughs and quickly places his glasses back on to hide his blush. He fails. You turn your head to face him, surprise evident on your face. “O-oh. As…colleagues?” Your voice pitches higher with nerves. Miguel gulps, Adam's apple bobbing with the action. “Well, no–it’s–what I’m trying to say is I’d like to have dinner with you as…more than colleagues.” Miguel burns brighter. He could solve the hardest equation, understand quantum physics and talk to scholars and billionaires with no sweat but when it came to you, you turned him into a babbling idiot. He glances at you from his peripheral vision, hoping you would not reject him. “Oh..! Then,” You give him a small smile. “I’d love to.”

What started as one date, began another and another until a series of dates had been planned and enjoyed before it blossomed into a relationship with your boss. You never thought it possible. You always thought of Miguel as someone out of your reach, someone who would rather focus on winning awards and gaining money–helping humankind–before ever thinking of settling down with anyone. For months, you had been going out with him, and establishing your relationship and for months you were helping him with his invention. Miguel screamed as he threw everything he had on his desk aside in anger. Pens, papers and other tools flew to the floor and he gripped his hair in frustration. He tugged on his long curls hoping that the pain in his strands would outweigh the pounding in his head. You ran to his side and placed a hand on his back while he curled into himself, heaving heavily. “You need to rest.” You urged. “These damn billionaires,” He growls, ignoring you. “Can’t they see we’re just trying to help people? Can’t they see beyond something as worthless as the money they want?” He stomps away from you, heading to the pinboard that held all his drawings and calculations. He ripped them off their pins and clips, tearing them to shreds as they fluttered to the floor. “This is the next step to human evolution! And they want to dump my shit, my life’s WORK, just because of what?” He laughs hysterically. “Because that malparido Osborn doesn’t believe in it? Are they so far up that elitists ass?” You watch terrified behind him. You feel your heart pumping, your eyes trained on him in case he hurts himself. “Miguel…” He slams his fists on the now bare pinboard, papers strewn across the floor around him. He heaves out another sigh, his anger simmering. “I just want to help people.” He whispers, resting his forehead on the rough surface. While he takes in shaky breaths, you decide to approach him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you turn his head towards you. Your heart breaks when you see the defeated look on his face. Eyebags had grown deeper, his eyes bloodshot and half lidded from sleep deprivation. “It’s okay.” You whisper.

“It’s not.” “It is. You’re a smart man, Miguel. You’ve done unimaginable things on your own. Your mind is what they need, but you? You don’t need their money. You have that brain of yours.” You tap his forehead and give him an encouraging grin. Miguel’s face falls into a relaxed smile, chuckling when you tap his forehead. “And you.” He whispers. “I have you.” He takes your hand off his shoulder and brings your knuckles up to his lips to kiss them. He keeps your hand against him until he breathes in and out slowly, looking up at you. “Thank you.” He mumbles, kissing your hand again before standing straight and moving his arms around your waist. “What would I do without you?” He grins tiredly. Your arms snake around his neck. “Probably die without me.” You giggled and he giggled with you. “Probably.” He hums while you look at each other, basking in the calm after the storm of emotions. “How about I bring us some tea?” You offer.

“No coffee?” “I think caffeine should be the least of your worries right now.” You roll your eyes playfully when you see his smirk. “English Breakfast?” You pat his chest before sliding away from his embrace, looking over your shoulder as you walk towards the exit. Miguel smiles and nods. “You know me so well.” He sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets after watching you leave. His smile drops from his face and he looks over at the giant green robotic tentacles. With a gentle hand, he caresses the silicon with care. Then, he moves onto the spinal cord of the device, wondering if Osborn just saw what he could do–then it would all be worth it. With a glance at the door, he makes sure the coast is clear before taking off his lab coat and shirt–and attaches the tentacles to his body.

You loved Miguel, honestly. The man you met was the sweetest. He was kind and caring, always patient and encouraging for new minds that wanted to learn. He was gentle. Was. You wondered where it all went wrong. Maybe you should’ve seen the signs. It seemed like everyday he would get slowly more agitated. Not at you. Never at you. More like, at the situation–at least you’d tell yourself that. You remember waking up one day in Miguel’s apartment. With your growing relationship, you decided to move in with him but it seemed like you were alone again. Miguel was sleeping at the lab more often than not. Other times you would have had to drag him out of his burrow, him snapping with red eyes that he needed to continue working. With a sigh, you shuffled out of bed, the other side being freezing cold, and got ready for work.

After clocking in, you found Miguel exactly where he was last night—hunched over and murmuring to himself. You place the tea you brought down onto the table along with a sleeping pill right next to him.

“Mi amor, you need to get some actual rest. It’s been days. You’ll wear yourself out.” You speak as quietly as possible to not scare him. Miguel doesn’t flinch, only shrugging you off.

“I’m almost done.” He grumbles.

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now.” You frown deeply and nudge the tea closer to him. “At this rate everything will be in vain. It won’t work if—“

“IT WILL WORK!” Miguel screams, slamming his fist onto the table enough to shake the cup of tea's contents, spilling the sleeping pill. “It has to!”

You jump back, heart racing at his outburst.

Miguel huffs and collects himself, anxiously running his hands through his hair. He drags his hands down his face and rubs his eyes.

“Sorry, shock, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to yell at you. You're right—it’s the, uh, lack of sleep.” He sounds exhausted. Every word slurring and when he relaxed even for a moment, his body drooped forward.

“You know better than to do that…” You whisper and he looks up at you with heartbreak in his eyes.

“I…I know, mi cielo—pero—“ Miguel gives you a weak smile, some light coming back to his eyes. “Look. Look! The—the arms! They’re almost complete!” He rushes towards you, ignorant to the way you step back and flinch when he takes your hand in his.

Miguel leads you to where the tentacles stand and presents it to you with a wide smile.  “You see here?” He points to the spinal cord of the contraption. “All these ridges really gave me a run for my money. When trying to attach it to the body, they would stick and often fall. If these are to be used for prosthetics then it needs to not just be connected to the body but a part of it. As if the limb never left—or-or better—made better.” He laughs to himself, placing a hand over his mouth as he stares adoringly at the machine.

Meanwhile your eyes squint. “How…how would you know that? How would you know how they react to connecting to the human body? I thought…this was unstable for human testing.”

Miguel scoffs, waving his hand at you. “No one gets far in their inventions by worrying about the dangers, mija! THINK!” He shouts.

You’re horrified, darting your eyes between his bloodshot eyes and the tentacles. “You didn’t…”

Miguel is already on his way to the device and stands in front of it. The spine digs into Miguel’s back and he grunts, the vest he added secures around his waist, lighting up a soft green. The chip snaps into his neck and Miguel stumbles but regains balance. He slowly stands back up and the tentacles come to life, swirling and curling around him. In the midst of the tentacles wiggling around, it slammed against tables and chairs—knocking the tea you had gotten him to the floor.

“Think about how many lives we could save. Mi amor, mi vida, mi corazón, we’re at the brink of the next stage of human evolution!” His tentacles whip wildly around him as if cheering along with him.

“What…are you talking about?!” You yell, exasperated. “‘Human evolution’? Are you insane?!”

The bottom two green arms slam into the ground, breaking the floor as it’s crushed under the weight of Miguel. They lift him higher so he’s well above you—more than he already is. You take a step back, his height and strength becoming much more prominent.

“Do you think I’m insane, corazón?” Miguel asks softly. There’s a hint of green in his eyes.

“We’re—“ You gasp. “We’re meant to make prosthetics. Legs, arms—I thought this was a test to the future but this…” You run your eyes down the arms of the green silicon. Its claws are digging firm into the ground, holding up a six foot nine man’s weight with ease. Miguel’s face is contorted in a scowl, a burning rage underneath his beautiful brown eyes—a light green glowing in the highlights.

“This…is not you…” “What would you know about me?! You’re just some assistant that doesn’t know jackshit other than printing a few papers! All while I worked on this myself!” One of his upper tentacles slam next to you which makes you jump and lose your balance so you could fall to the ground.

“Day and night, all you did was be some aching headache, forcing me tea and pills when I should be wringing Osborn’s neck with my bare hands to show him what exactly he missed out on!” Miguel cackles, his tentacles lifting him higher like a God.

You’re afraid. Very afraid. It all happened so fast. Who was this man?

The tears well up in your eyes and for a minute—if you said another word it would trigger Miguel to kill you.

Miguel must’ve seen the terror on your face, tears bubbling at your water line and falling down your cheeks while you shivered. He must’ve because his sinister smile dropped slowly, his arms lowering him down. 

“No, no, no—bella—no. That’s—it wasn’t me—“ Miguel’s feet finally touch the ground and when he does, he hisses, gripping his head as an agonizing headache surges through his mind. He groaned and moaned and took several steps back away from you.

“No! Don’t make her look at me like that! She’s afraid! Don’t scare her! Don’t make her fear me!” He screams, hyperventilating as his legs shake beneath him. 

“What? No! I want Osborn! Not her! She didn’t do anything! Leave her alone! Please!” Miguel’s releases tears, giant globs flowing down his face as he faces an internal battle and the tentacles go haywire.

Finding your chance, you shakily get up from the floor, scrambling to your feet to the exit. You scream and fall after just a few steps, Miguel’s tentacles zipping past your head to break through the wall by the door. Another worker outside screams, peering through the hole and witnessing Miguel looking down at you with fury. They run off and it creates a domino effect for an evacuation.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Miguel growls and hovers closer to your shaking body. You turn over your shoulder, heart hammering in your ears and chest. You feel like you can’t breathe.

“Miggy…” You whimper. Miguel’s eye twitches and he looks like he’s struggling between himself and whatever it is that’s in his head.

He stutters your name out before his face is webbed and he groans. Four separate webs wrap around Miguel’s tentacles to attach to his body. Miguel glares up and sees a familiar red and blue suit with big white eyes.

“Don’tcha know it’s rude to be mean to a pretty lady?” The hero quips, standing front of you to protect you.

“Spider-Man…” You gasp—relief filling your chest.

“Spider-Man.” Miguel growls and rips himself free from the webs only to be hindered again once more—this time with stronger webs and with a force strong enough to stick him to a wall.

“Nope! Not yet! I’m still trying to figure out what exactly you are, so give me like five minutes to save some civilians. Thanks, you’re a swell guy!” Spider-Man winks and picks you up in his arms and quickly swings you away to safety.

You look over Spider-Man's shoulder while he swings away and you could barely hear Miguel scream in frustration, his body fighting against the webs. Inside, your heart breaks as you wonder if maybe there was a chance to save him.

A/N: i dont see doc ock miggys. i would like to see more.