#i am so tired at this point it’s hysterical

[milflewis]

skjsksk i am sorry if i confused you but i'll try to be more clear this time. okay what i mentioned was this tweet. so the problem is this: bc of the delay instead of completing the full laps, they went for completing the 2 hours of race time. however, when max crossed the finish line, there was still 5 seconds (?) left, which means he should have gone for another lap too. and engineers instructed their drivers thinking there would be one more lap. iirc bono told lewis there was another lap and even after they crossed the checkered flag both him and este still continued to race (bc they thought the race was ongoing). daniel's race engineer said there is one more lap and even told him to continue to push even though the race ended.

so the race actually ended one lap before than it should have been. ofc fia doesn't have tiniest bit of spine but in case of premature endings to the race, the final lap is omitted and the lap before is counted as final. remember the race where christina aguilera waved the flag early, they counted the lap before the final lap and i think daniel lost the fastest lap (not sure about that part though). so if they basically sticked to rules, they should have deleted the last lap and hence charles' penalty.

lmao?? how many different ways can they make his wdc illegal and fake

[mxgyver]

.

[greatloss]

after whatever you do, don't save the world, five absolutely gets it in his head that all of these apocalypses lead back to him. the kugelblitz, the nuclear fallout, all of it. the kugelblitz came to be because of harlan, mostly, who would never have even met viktor had five not scattered them across the sixties, nevermind the actual fallout itself. the very first apocalypse came to be despite finally jumping to 2019 to right it himself, his very attempts to stop it helping to set it in motion. moreso, his first rebellious jump forward to an apocalyptic future itself promised it would then happen. witnessing the future made it concrete, a real possibility whose aversion now promises a paradox, which never would have been a concern had he not landed there in the first place. who knows what ways his absense in the academy contributed to this world - ending result in the first place?

beyond all of this, he's now cursed with the paradoxical knowledge that he founds the commission, the very people who decide the apocalypse is destined to happen. the people who work against him to stop it, who turn him into a living weapon, who torture his brother, who preserve harold jenkins and his part in viktor and the rest of the world's undoing. he is the origin of it all and he doesn't even know how yet. all he knows is it's a likely possibility that none of this, any of it, would've happened, had he not tampered with time travel at thirteen years old, or ever.

his power, his existence, is tangling him with time and space in untieable knots, strangling the world and the universe and his family, one neck at a time. and for every action he does to untie it, it only ever cinches that much tighter.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[theflyingfeeling]

...🙃

[cutiehulk]

.

[haeryna]

i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps. banner from @/cafekitsune

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

[mediumgayitalian]

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

[seonghwaddict]

in your arms — choi san

request by @sankatchu. “Just saw ur seonghwa angst and it absolutely destroyed my heart but since I am a wreck for angst could you write the most heart breaking angst (with a happy ending bc as much as I love it I can’t deal with no comfort 😍) for my man sannn <3 ?”

pairing. choi san x reader. genre. heavy angst, comfort. warnings. argument, car crash, injury description, a lot of crying, hospitalisation, pet name (my love). wc. 1117 words. (i would usually write 1.1k but this was too cute sorry not sorry).

[ listening to . . . ] lovememore. by dosii.

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

your whole world shattered within a day and there’s nothing you’ll regret more than letting it happen. it was a day like any other, but soon enough small irritations that accumulated over the course of months finally snapped and caused an argument with your boyfriend and the love of your life, choi san.

the relationship you two had was always very loving and despite being together for nearly a year, you were proud to say you never had any serious fights with him. until today, you supposed. there wasn’t really a point to the argument but you figured he must’ve been stressed from work—comebacks were always a bit hectic—and neither of you had been getting much sleep.

“just stop being so selfish and so self-righteous and leave me be for a seco-”

“get out.”

his anger faltered for just a moment before it was back, much more visible than before; his shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. “what?”

“i said get out. you said you wanted me to let you be, so leave. get out and come back when you’re ready to talk this through properly.”

The subject of it didn’t really matter anyway and you couldn’t even remember everything that was said, just the way your heart shattered when he walked out of your apartment with a slam of the front door behind him. even though the sadness of it all hit you as soon as he was gone, your rage never settled. how dare he talk to you so harshly? san was a painfully soft man—gentle words and tender touches. you’d never seen him like that.

san wasn’t sure where to go at first, but soon enough he was in his car, driving down the nearly empty streets at one in the morning and heading to the dorms he shared with his members. buildings rushed past him and soon enough his rigid posture relaxed, his hands on the steering wheel loosening as he sighed deeply. he contemplated turning the car around to go back and apologise, but before he could he felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as the screech of tired ripped through the air.

for a moment everything was silent, san’s ears ringing as he slowly started to figure out his bearings. the car was flipped sideways as his left shoulder was pressed against the shattered glass of the window and the concrete of the ground. his thoughts were slow, a sluggish attempt to keep him awake as he tried to move his limbs. he ignored any injuries he had, his hand reaching for his very cracked phone as he called the first person that came to mind. you.

but you didn’t pick up.

so he left you a voicemail, the high pitch of sirens already approaching in the background. with a final “i love you” he ended the message, coughing just after as he clicked his seatbelt off and slumped against the ground. after a few more breaths, he let his eyes close.

you were positively hysterical once you finally listened to the voicemail, hot tears running down your cheeks as you rushed to the nearest hospital that they must’ve taken him to. after talking to the receptionist and figuring out where his room was, you burst inside the room and stopped in your tracks.

his members were there, looking pale scattered around the room in varying states of distress, but you barely registered them as your heart sank. there were a few cuts and bruises blossoming on the sharp features of his face, a small plaster taped on his forehead. his left shoulder was wrapped in bandages as well as his right wrist. someone hugged you tightly as they cried into your shoulder, you didn’t really care who, though you figured it was wooyoung judging by the familiar smell, but your eyes stayed fixated on the unconscious, fragile body of san, the monitor next to him beeping at a steady pace. 

once he let go of you and told you they had to leave for schedules since the company didn’t want fans to worry too much, you took some tentative steps to the hospital bed. even though he looked quite beaten up, he still had that tenderness about him. with a frown and small furrow to your eyebrows, you let your fingers trace of the scratched on his hand.

before you knew it, you were sitting on chair you pulled next to the bed, holding onto his hand for dear life as you laid your head on his lap, not caring that your tears were staining the pristine white blanket. eventually, you fell asleep like that.

the next morning you stirred awake, a familiar hand brushing through your hair. a small noise leaving your lips as you turned your head and looked up. suddenly you had the energy of five redbulls as you jumped up and embraced him tightly, ignoring the fact you were probably suffocating him as tears began streaming again.

“i’m s-so so sorry, are you okay?” you told him through sobs and sniffles, “god, i’m so stupid and you’re right, i’m selfish and i should’ve just shut up, t-this is all my fault.”

san lifted his right hand to pat your arm gently before grasping it and pulling you away from him with the same slowness. as your tearful eyes looked into his strikingly soft ones, his hand moved so he could wipe away your tears. “i’m okay, none of this is your fault. i never meant a single word i said, you’re not selfish and fuck i would never want you to shut up. i should be the one apologising, my love.”

you lips trembled as you nodded slowly. “b-but if i never made you leave this wouldn’t have happened, it is my fault.”

“whatever happened, happened. please, don’t beat yourself up over this.” he pulled you close to him and his lips pressed heartfelt kisses to your hair as you buried your face in his uninjured shoulder, one on the nape of your neck and the other rubbing your back. “it’s okay, i’m okay, love.”

“i should be the one comforting you.” 

he chuckled and moved his hand from your neck to your cheek, guiding you to face him before leaning up to press his lips against yours. it was a firm kiss, wordless reassurance that he knew you needed as you melted against him and pressed yourself closer. his lips left yours too soon for your liking as he pressed more fluttering kisses on your cheeks, stopping your tears in the tracks, leaning back as he pressed one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

“i already find comfort in your arms.”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] this ended up being a lot sadder than i intended but i hope you like it sankatchu!! writing angst is honestly so much fun but sometimes my heart can’t take it

　　[ network ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[ifimdreaming]

blurb!

I cant sleep

jack hughes x reader || fluff

summary: jack wakes you up at 2am becasue he cant sleep an wants mcdonalds lol

word count: 0.6k

-

Jack tossed and turned beside you, reaching over to the nightstand to check his phone for the fourth time in the past 10 minutes. You tried desperately to ignore him, being way too tired and annoyed to tell him off. You also knew that if Jack knew you were awake he would take every opportunity to keep you awake.

Not even two minutes later Jack is sitting up in bed and you look at him confused with squinted eyes and your head still on the pillow, not wanting to lose your sleepiness. 

He begins ripping his shirt off and loudly starts fluffing his pillow, punching and throwing it on the bed repeatedly, clearly uncomfortable with how it was before. You groan slightly in annoyance and Jack turns his head to look at you.

“Oh you're awake too?” He turns to face you and lifts the pieces of hair that are covering your face so he can see if your eyes are open.

“Well I am now. Literally how could I be asleep with all the noise you're making?” you huff and turn your body to face the other way, away from jack.

“I can't sleep...” 

You feel poking at your side after staying silent, trying your hardest to ignore the irritating boy beside you.

“...Hello? Did you fall asleep again?” Jack says as he continues poking your back.

You grab his hand to stop him and kick his leg under the covers. 

“OW!”

You reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. “Jack, go back to bed its almost 2:30 in the morning!” he looks at you with furrowed brows and grips his leg, dramatically emphasizing the pain, which makes you crack a smile and laugh.

“Go. to. bed.” you sit up in bed and hold his face in your hands trying not to laugh, “im serious.” you add, trying to get your point across but he just chuckles in response, clearly seeing you fighting back your own laughter.

“I can't. I'm hungry and I really need mcdonalds.” he says as you reach over to turn the lamp on, reluctantly giving up on getting much sleep tonight. 

He looks at you and pouts his lip, and you just roll your eyes in return. You knew you'd be giving in but it was funny to watch him get so worked up about it.

“Pleeaase come with me?” jack says and pulls you in closer beside him. You sit up more and he lifts your leg over him so you are now sitting up on his lap, facing him.

“Please?” he says as he leans in to place a soft kiss against your lips. 

“Hmmm… I dont know. I think I need a little more convincing.” you say as you scooch closer to his chest and place your arms on his shoulders, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Oh yeah?” Jack leans in and leaves gentle kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He picks a spot along your collarbone and leaves marks that will definitely last for at least a few days.

“How bout now?” he lifts his head to look at you but you push it back down to your neck. 

“Come with me?” he says leaning up again and you reluctantly open your eyes, not wanting him to have stopped.

“Mm fine I suppose” you reply, and he flashes you a big smile.

“But this continues when we get back, yeah?” 

“Of course.” He says and places one last kiss on your lips, moving his hands back and forth along your thighs.

“Well lets go then hungry boy” you laugh out as you begin to climb off his lap.

“I'll get the keys!” Jack says and basically pushes you off of him so he can get dressed and get in the car as fast as possible. Leaving you laughing hysterically and scrambling to keep up with him.

-

-

[vase-of-lilies]

… for the tiny tiger au. How about Wanda and Nat freaking out thinking that R got out. Which we did, we’re alone outside. But instead of running like they think we did, we found a baby fox and start poking it and what not to see if it’s alive (cause it’s sleeping) and thinking it’s cute we bring it back to mommy and mama who are in hysterics trying to find out where we went, only to turn when tapped to find us covered in mud/dirt presenting the new friend we have to them, wide eyed kan we eep em? Mommy mama pweeesss?

Nat and Wanda don’t know what to do side eyeing one another because they don’t want their baby to cry, but also. It’s a fox.

Muddy Buddies

Paring: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Little!Reader x Momma!Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: this is a dark AU, wandering off into the woods, finding a friend, fluff, heavy MD/LG, needles, rabies shots

A/N: This immediately reminds me of this video I saw where this kid found a raccoon and is crying because she can’t take him home 😭 Another small drabble for Into The Tiny Verse:) Also, I'm so sorry. I am so tired so if it sounds like a 10-year-old wrote this (my vocab sucks when I'm tired) then just- Idk bear with me here 😭

Your little self was none the wiser when an opportunity to go outside came up. You didn't have any intention of escaping from your new caregivers, all you wanted to do was go on an adventure with your lion! And when this opportunity came up, you took it.

Natasha had just returned from her trip to town, grocery bags in her arms. Usually, she was much better at keeping an eye on you when Wanda was busy, and when she didn't see you come running to the door to say hi to her, she figured you were asleep or with your mommy.

At this point, you were now a couple feet into the forest surrounding the cabin. Not wanting to scare your mommies, you never lost sight of the house. That is until a little hint of orange just a little further inside the trees caught your eye.

Your curiosity moved your feet closer to the unknown blob of color, and once you saw it you let out a soft gasp. Your hand covered your mouth and you moved just a little closer.

It was a baby fox!

Looking around, you grab a stick with some leaves still on it and you kneel down next to the still fox. Is it dead? Your head pushes. Why isn't the mother here? Another question you ask yourself. With the stick in your hand, you gently poke the soft bum of the fox. The animal twitches, and you jump in surprise. Dropping the stick, you crawl to it, not caring about the mud on your pants or hands.

The small fox squeaks, and opens her little eyes, looking up at you. However, it did not run away. Instead, she yawned and got up from her position on the muddy forest floor. She stretches and even approaches you. Carefully, you hold your hand out and you smile as the fox's wet nose sniffs your fingers.

"Aren't chu jus' the chutest ting?" You whisper, scratching the fox's chin. "Yous name is Butto! (Butter)"

Butter lets out a small whine and a raspy bark, and you pick her up. She looks around as you stand up with her, and she slightly starts to struggle. You hold her comfortably tight, and you walk quickly back to the cabin.

Upon entering the cabin once again, you hear your mommies' worried voices. They shouldn't be worried... I'm right here! They don't hear you come in through the front door, too focused on reviewing the camera footage from outside of the warm abode. The two women don't even hear you enter their office!

Holding Butter and Leo (your lion) in one arm, you gently tap Wanda's shoulder to get her attention with the other hand. Her head snaps to the side, her eyes widening when she sees you. "Tiny! Oh my- Oh, and tiny's friend..." She says with a hesitant laugh, pulling her hands away from your muddy self and your muddy friend.

You tilt your head at her reaction to you but shake it off to ask the more important question at hand. You look up at the woman with doe eyes, "kan we eep em? Mommy mama pweeesss?" Wanda and Nat look at each other, surprised to say the least, but not wanting to hear you cry if they take your friend away.

"Who- uh- who is this, little one?" Natasha says, looking down at the fox in your arms.

"Her name Butto'" You say nonchalantly, as if it was just a new stuffed animal.

"Butter?" Wanda confirms and looks at her wife, eyes wide and asking for some type of support. Natasha can’t help but chuckle, and she kneels down in front of you.

“Tiny, I know this little one looks like a friend, but these little guys are tedious. They aren’t very friendly,” Nat frowns, starting to take the fox from your arms.

“Nnnnooooo! No she fren, mama, she nice,” you protest, pulling yourself away from the woman. “She tan stay wif me in m’room, and she can snuggle wif us!”

Wanda and Natasha devise a plan to get the little fox away from you and back to its mother, and they do that by putting you outside with Butter. In the backyard of course.

Butter in fact wasn’t nice. She scratched you, bit you, and made you cry, but your intentions on keeping her never wavered. Your little brain was just seeing another friend, and that’s all you thought this little fox was.

Wanda offered you a deal. “How about we make a trade?” She asks with a smile. “How about I take Butter, and you take Pancakes?” Your mommy pulls a plush fox from behind her back, and you tilt your head. “Just like you need mommy to take care of you, so does little Butter, and we need to get her back to her mommy.” Wanda says, and you start to understand.

“Butter has mommy too?” You ask, tears forming in your eyes at the thought of being taken away from your caretakers. Wanda nods softly and takes Butter from your hands.

“Yeah, so let’s get her back to her home and we can play with Pancakes all night. How does that sound?” Wanda asks you, finally pulling the baby fox from your scratched up hands.

Natasha had contacted Bruce Banner. He may be a human doctor, but he knows where this little fox can go to get real care. He even said that you and your mommies could visit her too! While Wanda held you in her arms, Natasha was distracting you while Bruce gave you a few rabies shots, and a few other vaccines to help you stay healthy after touching a wild animal.

You were not a fan of needles, and the two women knew that.

As you waved goodbye to Bruce and Butter, you sighed softly. “Butto’ sc’atched me,” you sniffle, looking down at your hands that now stung.

“Oh honey, it’s ok, let’s go get you cleaned up for dinner, ok?” Wanda says, picking you up bridal-style and taking you to the bathroom to wash up.

Once your bath was finished, Wanda bandaged your hands and arms and got you all warmed up in your pjs. After dinner, your mommies kept their promise and you played with your new (fluff-filled) friend until you fell asleep!

“We need to watch her carefully…” Natasha chuckles, stroking her knuckle over your sleeping face.

Wanda nods, “Agreed!”

[lidiasloca]

i saw your post and i had an idea! azriel x reader, az comes home from a long mission, he’s tired and he’s upset but won’t talk about it, just fluff as the reader comforts him and cuddles and stuff. If you don’t like it feel free to just ignore this! x

the right thing (azriel x reader)

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You can tell.

And not just because of the bond, but because of his eyes. They look almost lifeless. The hazel in them is replaced with a sad black you have grown to hate.

It is a reminder of how much your mate actually suffers in these missions, whether he ever admits it or not. 

“Az?”

He only answers you with, “Hm?” as he makes his way past you to the desk of your room. You know all too well how prone he is to closing in on himself. 

You get up from the bed and start walking behind him. “Wait,” you try a soft tone, not letting your worry get to him. “Azzie, please.”

He finally turns, allowing you a clear look at his tired face. It breaks your heart. 

You realize you’re silently staring, but not in time. “I know I look terrible, but there’s no need to grimace.”

Your heartbeat speeds up immediately. You - you hadn’t grimaced, that you were very sure of. But the thought of Azriel thinking you had makes you rapidly reply, “NO - I mean no, Azriel. I wasn’t grimacing. It’s just - you look very tired.” 

To no one's surprise, he stays silent. So you add, “I’m worried.”

Your mate sighs, as if in defeat. “It’s Devlon,” he eventually mutters. 

You try your best not to go to the male to strangle him yourself. Gods - the times Azriel came home exhausted because of some conflict involving him. You hate him.

Azriel regards you and says, a coy very little smile now on his face, “Stop that frowning.” He brings his index finger to smooth the creases in your forehead, as if to make his instructions clearer.

You know better than to keep asking him more. You know how little words Azriel like using, especially about these things. But you make it a point to talk about this when he’s in a better mood. 

You return his little smile, happy that he seems lighter. 

After a comfortable silence, just staring at each other, he says, “sorry for earlier; you shouldn’t be the one having to cope with my grumpy ass.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Don’t be sorry. I understand, and - I am your mate,” you reply while taking his hand in yours and pulling him.

He opens his mouth to ask when you start leading him, but his answer soon comes, just as you gesture him to the bed. 

“You need to rest,” you command, or try to sound like so.

It seems to work; Azriel climbs into the bed slowly, then whispers, “Yes, my lady.” 

You can’t help your giggle before you follow him onto the bed. “Shut up, mate.”

He turns his eyes to yours, piercing even in the dim light. You know damn well the effect that word has on him. You smile innocently.

“Say it again,” he orders, though there’s amusement in his eyes when he adds, “If you dare.”

“No. Goodnight…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you intently. But you won’t let him win, so you pull the blankets over you, making it obvious that you’re going to sleep. 

You only have time to yelp before he pulls you out of the blankets and cages you with both his wings and his arms. “Say it.”

“No - let me go!” you laugh hysterically as he starts pinching the flesh on your ribs. “Az! S-stop that.”

“Say it, then.”

“Mate! My mate!”

He at last lets go of you, and you can finally draw breath.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers in your ear.

“Well, you almost suffocate your mate, you know that?”

“Dramatic.” You smack him with a pillow. “Ouch.”

“Dramatic,” you reply, still out of breath, and quite exhausted after trying to win Azriel in strength. “Now, I need rest.”

He smiles lovingly and says, “Goodnight then, mate.”

You observe him before launching yourself on him, more comfortable than anywhere else. “Goodnight,” you tell him. “Azzie?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me tomorrow?” You wrap your arms around him as you can. “About what happened today?” You try not to name Devlon, not now that he seems calm. 

He takes a moment before answering, “yes.” Precise and short, you think, but you‘re still glad he’s willing to open up to you about this knowing how hard it comes for him to do so.

“Thank you, mate” you whisper, which he answers by kissing the top of your head.

Just as you feel yourself drifting to slumber, you hear his voice, barely audible. 

“My mate.”

-Characters by Sarah J. Maas

I was soooo tempted to write the aaron warner “yes, love?” but found selfcontrol somewhere. btw, i'm super happy with how many requests you guys have sent, cause i want to write acotar soooo bad. thanku <;3.

[ddaycarecenter]

Yandere ! Prime Rick x Reader

i forgor who requested this but HERE I AM WEEKS LATER !! INM SORRYY

srry if theres spelling errors. i didn’t have time to edit -n-

Prime Rick who loves to dance around you. Once he knows he wants you, he’ll either do two things kidnap you immediately and play mind games with you, mentally torturing you and tiring you out.

Or he’ll watch you from afar, playing with you sense of deja vu. Rick will have you thinking your seeing things and questioning whether or not someone is following you.

Prime Rick doesn’t see you as a person More so as a trophy and an object. Something to toy around with, or something pretty to look at.

Prime Rick can be pretty cold at times. He completely disregards how you feel. If you scream or shout at him, he’ll just ignore you or leave you alone. Worst case, he’ll get rid of you.

Prime Rick doesn’t feel like he needs any permission to do anything. You could be minding your own business watching inter-dimensional cable, when Prime grabs you and forces you to do whatever he wants.

Affection with Rick is erratic and random, sometimes he’ll be gentle with you and other times rough. Other times he could leave you alone and if you try to hug him or anything he’ll just push you away

Prime Rick is very flirty and sexual with you. Often making suggestive comments out of the most random things with you. If he’s feeling touchy or possessive enough, he might just hold you tightly and force you into his lap.

Prime Rick loves to hug you from behind. It gives him so much control of you and he loves to feel your body up and down. sometimes randomly , he’ll surprise you and bite your neck, making you all read and yelpy. He finds it cute when you are flustered, shocked, and very embarrassed. He LIVES to see reactions out of you.

If Prime Rick feels playful enough, he’ll just randomly poke you or touch you in a sensitive spot, just to see you jump. He’ll look at you like a person who Awww’s at a dog who just rolled over and kiss you.

While you hated being kidnapped by Rick, things aren’t always so boring. If you really behave yourself and do whatever Rick wants you to, he might take you on his adventures. Most likely a small, non dangerous adventure. for the sake of protecting you from harm and just being jealous that anyone can lay eyes on you. Rick will be much more possessive of you during adventures. He won’t allow you to move more than 3 feet away from him. Don’t even bother trying to use this as an escape plan. Rick 100% has trackers on you at all times, and can catch up to you very quickly.

Prime Rick would definitely put you in simulation. Just to fuck with you, making you think you had a chance at escaping or seeing your family again. When he shuts it down, laughing at you hysterically like he didn’t just mentally destroy you, he would just pat you on the back cooing and mocking you. Rick would tease you saying it was a “Woaaahhhahaha! Good try there , sugar!”

You were horrified into thinking rick was going to punish you for even having the IDEA of escape in your mind but all he did was laugh and “give you points” for your character. You felt sick that he saw you as some sort of character to some game, and he was the player. 

Unfortunately escape is just impossible. You can’t beat his genius or his technology. Managed to get away? Rick just has a tracker on you. Trying to get ahold of your friends ? He’ll already be right there waiting for you to see them, just to kill them in front of you. Unless you want to stay alive , it’s best to just accept where you are. Otherwise, if your too much trouble, Prime rick would just realize your not worth the trouble and get rid of you.

[johnnys-breastmilk]

guilty by association | jacob custos x male!reader

a/n — i was overtaken by the hag's spirit and wrote this in a day. . . I've never done that before- meant to be posted before new year's but now it's like 1 am, so happy new year!

words — 1.8k

summary — Jacob can't sleep thanks to his situation with Emma and gets some help with it.

warnings — oral sex (jacob receiving), face-fucking, unrequited feelings, himbo says dumb things alert, plus cheesy dialogue

~~~

“Silas. . .”

A haunting old woman’s voice crept into your ear and urged you to wake. You flinched away from the direction the voice slinked from, careful not to jolt too far up and accidentally hit your head on the rickety wooden planks above. They weren't easy to see in the dark, but every time it happened, never missing a single night, you were able to suppress the reaction a little more.

It was something about this place—the name had never come to you before until you entered the campgrounds, and they likely would continue until you left. Mr.Hackett would never believe your stories about the voice, or he might send you home early with a case of heat exhaustion. You couldn’t tell your bunk-mate either as he would laugh at you and insist that even he’s not that stupid. But, maybe that was one of the good things about him underneath the very, very dense pile of stupidity behind that pretty face; reassuring your total insanity made you feel a little less hysterical. 

As for your bunk-make, Hackett's Quarry brought him nothing but positivity. He succeeded in getting a summer hookup, maintained the body of his dreams, and persuaded everyone—but mostly you—with his charm to do most of his responsibilities to sneak away with Emma. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Jacob's cluelessness to any hint you dropped his way, whether that was the eagerness to do his after-hour cleanup chores or asking him on more than one occasion to take a late-night swim, only made him more attractive. It was hard to tell if he was stunned at the thought of someone else liking him or if he was just that big of an asshole.

You assumed it was the latter after the first day of camp with him. Jacob was pretty unabashed about the fact that he snored, flatly stating that you would have to put up with it for the summer with a stupid smirk. You hoped a bear would wipe it off within the first week, but Emma kept it alive and well for him. He had to have known it was simply a thing for the summer, right? 

It was almost every night, just like the whispers in your ear, that he would come back before you woke up and be passed out until dawn. With a leg dangling off the side of the bed, he would lazily stretch himself over the small twin bunk, snores filling the cabin. This time, he wasn’t snoring.

You hesitated for a moment in realization. The worst thing to happen was that he wouldn't answer or was still out on a thrill ride with Emma. “Jacob?”

A silence-impacted moment passed, then his voice came from above you. "Yeah?"

"You're awake?"

"Tell me something I don't know," Jacob pouted. He sounded defeated, but you weren't about to point that out. His voice came down muffled as if he buried his face in a mound of squishy pillow.

You held your breath for a moment before blurting out the first thought that came to mind. "Abby likes Nick?"

"Wow, I did not know that," Jacob's voice became notably more clear.

"Is everything good?"

"Me and Emma. . . broke up," he reluctantly admitted.

"She said you guys weren't ever dating," you reminded him, much to your own annoyance. Her persistence about the two of them not being an item while keeping him mentally tunneled to her, and only her, was tiring.

"I know," he sighed, "but she was, like, baseballs to a pitcher. I was the pitcher, and I don't have balls anymore." 

His allegory barely made any sense, but you knew the last part was the perfect opportunity to lighten the mood. "You don't have what?"

"Shut up! What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep." A simple lie was better than the complicated truth, you figured.

“Me too.” Jacob fully twisted around, though you weren't sure in which direction. The planks above you creaked, and his movements making the sheets whir together were enough of a clue.

“Why not?” It was redundant to ask, but what else could you say at the moment?

"I’m kinda pent up here, dude. You know, no Emma,” he stated.

“Use a sock,” you casually suggested, even if there was something that you were willing to give him. Your only reasoning as to why you didn't immediately jump on the opportunity when it reared its ugly head was that it was late, and old women waking you up in the middle of the night wasn't exactly nubile.

“Nah, I learned my lesson the last time. Jakey’s hurricane has a splash zone,” he somehow more offhandedly replied, veering into the territory of boastful about his previous climaxes.

"Gross!" You blurted out with a chime of laughs after.

"I'm just being honest. But, fuck, dude. This sucks." Just like that, he was back to sounding defeated, finding no resolution to his self-proclaimed problem.

It was hard to resist offering to help him, but it was also hard to discern if he would go for it. Jacob seemed like the kind of guy to take any hole he could get because that's all it is: a hole. So, you took the risk. You piped up to ask, "I'll help you out?"

"Wait, really? Dude, that would be amazing. Uh—how?"

"Like, how—," you paused, "—how Emma would do it."

“So, like, a bro-job?” Fuck. He was never going to get it. You might as well take what you can get. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. Jacob hopped down from his level, and you got a good look at him in the faint light of the cabin. He wore a cropped shirt, and you could make out the numbers of a jersey being part of the design, barely visible. His dark happy trail led to a loose pair of plaid boxers handing on his hips, the fly of which bulged out from his eagerness. His hair was spiky and tousled, which was odd since he lacked his signature backward-facing baseball cap that usually the mess atop his head. 

“Cool. Where do I stick my dick in?” An eager angel’s smile spread over his face. Whatever blessed him with his confidence was sorely mistaken to give it to someone like him.

You sat up, turning and swinging your legs over the bed. “Tell me you're joking?”

He didn't have anything witty to defend his ego with, opting instead to skip the path of foreplay and run right along to letting his dick bob freely. The trunk's waistband was pushed past his lightly hairy thighs and down to his knees. You got a moment to look at him underneath everything, the importance of it flying over your head. It was hard to care that this was your first impression of him underneath his controlled appearance. Not that Jacob was one to hide his defined physique, but this was more than a shirtless dive in the lake. You were seeing without barriers, both emotionally and physically.

As for his package—the thing that must have kept Emma around for longer than she would have been—he fulfilled every thought you had about it. The length was a little shorter than you expected, but the girth felt like something you could get drunk off, the true root of a brewing addiction. You wanted to feel it stretch your throat and test your limits when it came to him, and unlike what you teased him for earlier, he did, in fact, have a hefty and hairy pair of balls that looked to be a mouthful.

"Are you just going to look? Open wide, dude."

The tip brushed your lips and slipped past quickly with Jacob's guide. He wanted this bad, and you could have sworn that there was a twinge of blue coming from his balls. Weirder shit had already happened this summer, so it wouldn't surprise you if that became literal. Just a few inches deep and Jacob was already causing your jaw to feel stretched to its limit with his girth. That didn't stop him from continuing.

Seconds later, the tip swept the back of your throat, provoking an appropriately-timed gag. Jacob didn't stop for that either, pulling his lips apart to unleash a moan when you finally let him invade your throat. The moment to adjust passed quickly, and he had total control over your throat with his pulsing heat. Like a hot blade effortlessly cutting its way through foam, Jacob made himself fit with ease.

"Holy fucking shit, you're way better than Emma," he remarked with praise and astonishment. The walls were fully down.

By the time his pubic bone pressed against your nose, giving it a slight scrunch back as all you could smell was him, Jacob was getting needy. You felt the warmth of him and the presence of his trimmed hair slip away from your face, your throat growing empty for a few seconds until he crammed it all back in. Your throat wanted to convulse, to swallow the hunk of musky meat partway down it, but that was the hard part. You tried to apply pressure with your lips to make up for the lack of it, wrapping them around him and greedily sucking him down.

Sure enough, Jacob couldn't tell much of what he was shorted on at the moment, consistently uttering soft fucks and that's its as he fell into a rhythm of movement. Some more stuff about how you were "better than Emma" escaped his thoughts and formed into half-coherent sentences that you barely processed, too hung up on him to give your attention to that.

He kept at it until he couldn't. His weight shifted, and his pace slowed, and it a few ah—ahs, Jacob spilled himself into your mouth without even asking. He didn't even pull out. Jacob just let himself sit there and pump ropes into your mouth as it drizzled from the corners of your lips, expecting you to swallow what you could. He was right, after all. He was nothing if not a hydrant for release. 

Jacob settled himself over you, leaning forward as the last few sloppy thrusts drug himself over your tongue and smeared the mess in your mouth. 

Jacob reeled himself out of you and took a step back, shucking off his boxers and using them to wipe his dick clean of his release. He threw them somewhere into the dark of the room and turned to admire you. "Damn, wish I could take a picture. This is something that needs to last forever."

You were still grappling from swallowing his come, just muttering a quick and quiet, "No problem."

He patted your shoulder, "Thanks, bro. Making a fucking s'more out of your mouth was insane." 

[anundyingfidelity]

YOUR PORTRAIT — Adam Warlock

Summary: Your sketchbook is very special, as you keep special memories and drawings of your friends and things you find fascinating, among them, there is Adam.

Pairing: Adam x guardian!reader (gender not specified).

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1.3k.

Note: this is a request I received, I hope I did it justice!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It was a very silent trip on the Bowie on the way for a new mission. Odd, you thought.

However, silence was not an issue at all for you. Not that you were paying attention to the Guardians or listening around. Low music was playing softly on your earbuds as you finished some details on the new drawing you had been preparing on your well-worn notebook.

Giving some quick glances, you took in every shade and light over Groot, who was sitting a couple of feet away from you. A soft smile curved on your lips. Drawing was a very special activity for you, and it was usual for you to draw things, creatures and people around you that you thought they were special or meaningful. Your last piece was a sketch of Groot, and actually it didn't look bad.

You watched your sorroundings, Drax coming near by to take a seat by your side while on the ship. You knew he was talking by the way his lips moved, but you didn't pay any attention to him, instead you focused more on your sketch. Until the music stopped playing and you heard his voice.

"That's a weird thing you do."

"Excuse me?"

"This," Drax pointed your drawing with his finger. "Why staring too long for this?"

You rolled your eyes, taking off your earbuds. "Why? Are you jealous you're not in my special notebook?"

"I am not!"

"Then shut up-"

Drax took the notebook in his hands, leafing through the pages full of sketches. He found out a lot about the Guardians - sketches of Peter, Nebula, Gamora, Groot, even him and Rocket - but what caught his eye was a drawing of the new golden boy.

The man let out a rather loud hysterical laugh, making you mad, meanwhile he took in the details of Adam's sketchs and drawings on the pages.

"Looks a lot more effort for these," Drax said.

"Ha, ha. You're very detailed oriented, now give it back."

"Talk to him," he insisted, looking into Adam's drawings.

Drax gaze directed to the golden boy across the ship. Adam looked lost in his own mind. Poor dumb guy, Drax thought. Adam didn't know he was the main character on the notebook resting in his hands.

"What do you mean? Give me my notebook right now," you were getting tired at this point.

"You draw like you're memorizing every inch of him," Drax whispered. "And you look at him like you're doing it."

You sighed, of course you did not. At least not that you were ready to accept that fact. "I really thought you were an idiot, but I don't."

He snorted and gave back your notebook. "I am not an idiot."

The Guardians were hoping this mission in particular was easier than others you did before. Little they knew that you were the one who would get injured during it.

On the way back to Knowhere, Rocket had ordered Adam to look after you. You fell unconscious after a long battle on a strange planet you visited, and Adam was there for you in case you woke up, but it never happened.

So once you arrived back home, he took you to the Sanatorium as Rocket ordered. The nurses treated you there and helped to check your vital signs. They said you were doing fine and might wake up in the next morning, however, Adam decided to stay after informing the team of your state.

He had with him your bag, including that special notebook you always carried everywhere. Sitting near your bed, Adam wondered what was in there that you protected it so much. Slowly, he took the well-worn notebook out of the bag, checking every detail.

Adam thought he was not being careful, but his own curiosity was stronger than the wish of doing the right thing and being discreet with your belongings. He saw you were deep in your sleep, hopefuly you would wake up soon.

Slowly, he opened the notebook and he was in awe. The sketches and drawings were beautiful and delicate on every page, everything looked perfect. Adam couldn't believe you made this with your own hands, and he became surprised when he found himself on those pages.

Was he really exactly as you portrayed him to be? You captured his expressions and details on point, but he didn't think of himself as you did. Adam thought you made him look perfect, which he soon had to learn he was not. Forced to get out of the cocoon too soon, Adam felt he was lacking of a lot of things, but he felt flattered seeing your beautiful drawings.

You both didn't talk a lot before, but he was worried about you and he would not leave your side until you opened your eyes again. Seeing your notebook showed a new side of you, about who you were, and he loved it. How he wished he could get your talent to show you how gorgeous and beautiful you looked in his eyes too.

When you woke up, you were surprised and scared of being in the Sanatorium of Knowhere. You were alive and that was something.

However, you realized Adam was sleeping on a couch near the bed in your room, with your notebook lying on his lap. Inside, you felt a little ashamed that he might looked at it, but you were happy he was able to get it for you.

Sitting down slowly on the bed you took the notebook from his lap, careful of not waking him up or making a lot of noise. He looked so tranquil and beautiful just by doing nothing, with his eyes closed and chest rising up and down smoothly. You quickly opened the notebook and noticed in the final pages a sketch you never did before.

Was it you? It looked like you. The drawing was a little childish, and the author drew a small landscape around, with a smiling moon in the background sorrounded by little stars all over the place. A smile formed on your lips.

"You're awake," Adam whispered.

"You are awake too," you replied back. "Did you do this?" you asked, showing him the page you were checking. His cheeks started to burn immediately.

"I- um, I'm sorry- I- I shouldn't-"

"I love it."

Adam gulped, feeling more relaxed after seeing your smile.

"I just thought that you always draw us and these beautiful things, but nobody ever does the same for you. Of course, I am not as good as you are, but I tried and I was waiting for you to wake up since you fell unconscious back there..."

You nodded at his explanation, loosing yourself on his eyes and his features, most of them you had them already memorized due to the amount of times you drew him on your notebook.

"I think is cute, thanks, Adam."

"Thank you... for drawing me. I guess I don't see myself as you do," he confessed and started to get up from his seat. "But I really should call the nurses and let them know you woke up-"

"Before you go, I want to say I'm sorry if I also made you uncomfortable with my portraits of you, is not my intention."

"I'm not, at all..."

"Good," you let out a sigh of relief. "I guess you're fascinating. I wanted to capture that, sometimes I think I got too carried away."

"Well, I loved it," he replied remembering your words as he walked to the door. A charming smile appeared on his lips. "Maybe you can teach me how to draw later and I could make the perfect portrait of you."

You giggled softly, was he flirting right now? "Just tell me when, it'll be my pleasure."