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loki-cees-all · 30 days ago

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Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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mewdas · 1 month ago

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mdni siren!gojo fucking u full, breeding mention, horror themes, fluffy near the end, blood + wound play (mild), he’s feral stop booing me . 2nd instalment of my jjk monster men series

black, wet and.. cold, so cold, an endless inky blot your ship sat minuscule on, blurry and hazy in a way that made it hard to tell if you were awake or dreaming — fuck, the sting.. that poorly timed cut on your arm kept nagging for attention in the bleak saltwater. it was impossible to decipher exactly which part was on you and when; heavy, suffocating pressure in— no, on your chest, weighing you down or.. latched on, or all at once. teeth in your neck, webbed fingers clinging so hard - wet against wet, you swore you were rapidly bruising every which way. you could tell you were being moved at least, roughly, then soft then back again, a flash of white hair every so often in your bleary vision, half-lidded blue eyes danced with lust and a primal need to consume that peered into your own.

this wasn’t how you envisioned your ships voyage into the uncharted expanse of the great sea, the ‘unknown’, said to be festering with beast and outcasts alike - where the pirates in those endless legends resided; longhook, greybeard, ‘the butcher’, it was a thrill - for someone as adventure hungry as you and your small crew, at least.

you were determined to make a name for yourself; once the ‘dock rats’ of the pirate world, offering to clean up other crews vessels for coin, help haul in a large full fishing net or to keep the gulls away while your temporary bosses ate — mundane, boring. this wasn’t what you were made for, not in the slightest. that’s what your ma used to tell you, too.

at the first whiff of prospect on the salty breeze, you hired up the finest boat — well, perhaps not the finest. it was lined with barnacles and barely had enough space below deck to swing a cat, let alone store the things they’d actually need for the voyage. though you were always remaining undeterred, it was perfect, in your eyes. sure, the sail was a little ragged, or maybe an oar was missing a chunk or.. two — but it was yours! the vessel that’d carry you and your three-man crew into uncharted territory, to finally document the unknown, to prove yourself, to show the world you weren’t just lowly deck-scrubbers or gull-scarers!

really, the problems that arose nearly off the bat should’ve deterred you. ever stubborn, though. they were plentiful and came in swarms, overwhelming being an understatement. before you had even made it past the fabled ‘current of bones’, said to be so strong it sank even the greatest vessels — likely why most went around — you had sprung a leak below deck, one of your men near breaking his ankle rushing to plug it up and bucket the water out post haste.

okay, a minor hiccup..

whether it was leaks, gulls stealing most of your lunches, or that dark shape below the murky waves your men ‘swore they saw’, this whole thing was a far bigger challenge than you had first anticipated, and a good nights rest was well overdue. or, as well a rest you could get on this little wooden buoy you had cashed out on.. all swaying and rocking even with the anchor dropped.

god, nobody tells you how hard and sickening the waves get, or how… creepy the ocean at night really is.

the gentle snores of your crew, settled like sardines shoulder-to-shoulder below deck, was the only thing that accompanied the gentle brush of saltwater against your ships hull - with you propped up above deck, elbows rested on the side as you looked out over the empty expanse. judging by the map you kept rolled in your belt, you were a couple hundred nautical miles from the nearest—

what was that?

everything stops in your mind - frozen still as you wait, wait ever so patiently just to see if that sound you thought you heard is something real. and you fucking hope not, because it was scary, unknown, all.. garbled and almost human, but not quite.

who are you kidding..?

you ease a fraction, palming the stray trickle of sweat from your temple. just the waves. you’ve been out here a bit on the water, couple days now, you’re just.. antsy, it’s fine.

and then you tense again, the colour you swear draining from your face. there it is again, that sound, that.. song? it’s eerily familiar, akin to something you’re sure is from your childhood, perhaps.. something your mother once sang to you as she rocked your little warm form in her arms. but of course, your mother isn’t out here. nobody is supposed to be out here, not like this.

a sudden nudge of the boat startles you from your shock, prone and short of breath when your white-knuckled grip finds the edge of the ship, you’re frantic, senseless as you scan the black depths, even blacker below the soft moons reign. fuck, fuck, there’s nothing - you can’t see anything so there’s nothing. it’s fine and—

and the boat rocks again. it’s a wonder how your men haven’t woken yet. god how you wish they would - how you’d be much braver with them rallied by your side to rid this sea.. thing from your vessel, how you’d all cheer and toss up hefty mugs of too-strong rum in celebration once safe.

but they don’t. they don’t even stir, and you can’t bring yourself to scamper below deck and let this thing just circle without your eyes on it, which is what you think it’s doing. oh— a flash of white beneath the dark, so brief you almost twist yourself up trying to follow it with your head.

and then, you see it. god, you see it. and it’s beautiful, yet so frightening you can feel your pulse hammer away in your throat at the sight of it. two piercingly blue eyes locked onto yours, swirling with mirth and something you don’t dare think about too hard - reflective and deeply intense in the face of the moon. it looks.. almost man, with such a large mass you can only imagine, partially blurred away beneath the endless depths, all white shimmering scales and blue spots. his long strikingly white hair lay slithering down his back in mindless ways, wet and slicking past his finned, webbed ears.

you’re not even sure how long you’ve just been staring at eachother, but you faintly recognise it getting closer, just gradually, and it sets you on edge - really it does, the water giving way for its hulking form. in that maw, now that it’s nearer, you can see delicate pink lips, long white clusters of lash bordering those beautiful blues, glinting jagged teeth hidden away. the blue spots, you make out, are much akin to eyes.. though seem to function quite the same as a tigers markings would — evolved to intimidate and frighten.

the large form is lunging into the side of the ship again, thrashing its tail unabashedly into the side, sending you clinging to the side - fuck! you barely register the searing pain of a gash up your arm as you’re sent dangling off the side, scrabbling to keep yourself out of the depths, away from that. must’ve caught it on one of the barnacles off the side.. shit.

there’s a sudden rush of water, you can feel the entire boat sway with the force of the wave alone, and it’s enough to make your already white-knuckled grip release the wooden side, the sheer temperature drop of the water sucking away your breath before anything else does, like a jolt of lightning through you.

it takes the freezing water to draw your frantic eyes to the blood muddying the water around you - and you only get a fraction of a second to let your mind catch up before the beast is all over you, two large scaled arms finding your shoulders to slam you unceremoniously into the side of your own ship, which groans and creaks in protest.

“not fair.” he’s seething out through jagged teeth and lips that don’t quite seem used to speaking, forget the common language. his breath warm against your ear when he leans in, allowing long, forked tongue up against your ear, ghosting. “naughty.”

you can barely hear him, head spinning and bleary - not to mention the fact he’s speaking to you. your breath is coming in quick gasps, and you can’t help the pathetic little pained sound that spills from your lips when his webbed fingers find your wrist, yanking it up to his pale scaled face to get a long, languid sniff, burying his face into the gash, lapping away at the blood and marking like his life depends on it.

you’re all ow! and wait! but there’s a dark, wavering little part deep in your gut that’s thrilled, brimming with excitement at not only the contact but the discovery!

—fuck! his tongue against your lips quickly snaps you from your thought - and you realise you can soak in the rays of accomplishment later. if this siren allows you a ‘later.’

he has you pinned firm, the jagged wood pressing into your soaked back a painful sting, the odd barnacle snagging your elbow or ankle as you wriggle. the siren, satoru he says his name is between desperate ‘kisses’ — really just him shoving his long tongue past your lips and down your throat — a fact you just barely hold on to, too distracted by the insistent hump of what you can only assume to be his arousal up against your thigh.

“wait, just— mnh-“ you’re spluttering out, body yielding entirely subconsciously, your quivering fingers finding solace on his shoulders, arms slung around his gilled neck like you would a lover, pulling him close in your grasp. god, you feel utterly drunk off his scent, his song, all you can think about is him.

this seems to strike a pleased chord in satoru, grinning a flash of jagged teeth as he releases your shoulders, his sides huffing and second set of gills beneath his ribs allowing him to pant desperately into your warm skin as he pries your legs apart, drooling openly down your already ocean-soaked collarbone. “let me.. in..” he’s hissing into your ear, webbed fingers pointedly finding your clit with an accuracy that startles you.

“oh..” you whine, incessantly rolling your hips into his touch, entirely drowning out the chill of the water around you, or your crew asleep on the other side of the hull as you wrap your legs around his hips, duly noting the thick muscle replacing his legs below his waist, the long finned tail he’s partially using to keep you pinned without his hands.

it’s all you can do to keep yourself spilling into his hand at the chaste little strokes of your clit alone, pulling him so close you can smell the faint waft of fish and blood on him - not that it matters when he’s nudging his pointed tip against your slick slit, growling and huffing like an animal gone wild, seeking the give of your hole - which finally yields with a lewd shlick, your eyes snapping wide when he’s hilted to the base inside your willing cunt, a satisfied little trill of his own sounding into your hair when he sees himself bulging out of your stomach.

satoru can’t keep his attention off the gash up your arm long, nudging and huffing the coppery scent as he ruts his hips up into yours, smooth penis leaking copious amounts of arousal that coat your gummy walls with each push, his claws digging in when he feels you flutter and squeeze along his length. “take.. “ he mumbles into your wound, blood streaking his stark white face, intensely watching yours as it twists and slacks with pleasure all at once.

judging by the strangled choke you give whenever he angles his hips in that specific way, pointed tip seeking out your spongy g-spot like a missile, knocking it again and again and again until you’re mindless on his cock, head tipped so helplessly into the back of the hull, back arching up into him like his dick was a lifeline and you were drowning. “oh- please-!”

and christ he’s cumming just as you are, claws drawing angry marks down your soft back, teeth sank into your neck with a feral choke, growling heavily through the blood seeping onto his tongue like syrup, his hips stuttering into your cunt as each heavy spurt of velvety heat finds sanction deep in your greedy womb - sending your eyes rolling.

it feels like forever until he’s sated, finally pulling away with a pleased chuff, big blue eyes searching your face desperately, as if seeking approval - the hungry, wild look in them replaced with an almost fond little glint as he thumbs away some blood from your chin, a wide grin spread over his face.

“you.. carry pups, mine.” satoru nods eagerly, palming hair from your eyes as he lofts you out of the water by your armpits, holding your spent form up like a prize won from a carnival game.

“…the fuck?” you hear from above you, the distinctive voice of one of your men, laced with disbelief. oops?

— ⚓️

holding him up by the scruff like a dog to show all of u . planning to do more fics on siren gojo i’ll be honest . i’ll say it . my friends gave me some real cool ideas and they’re sssoo super cute,, stay tuned

#mewdas #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut

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pmpmyread · 5 months ago

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Nanami Kento & Laughter

Content Warnings: MDNI/18+, fluff with a hint of smut. Summary: Some laughter HCs with Nanami, because God knows he deserves it. Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader Word count: 1.4k

From the moment you first shared a laugh with Nanami Kento, you knew you’d want to do it over and over again.

As a newly graduated Grade 1 sorcerer, you’d hoped your first day would carry at least some of the novelty that the promotion promised. Instead, here you were, leaning against the back wall of a packed Jujutsu High classroom, enduring yet another staff briefing that had dragged on for far too long.

In response to yet another tangent taken by the visibly disorganized support staff member who was presenting, you’d been unable to contain the off-hand comment that slipped from you, in the form of a dry joke muttered under your breath, one you had not expected anyone to hear until you heard a low, barely noticeable chuckle emanating from the sorcerer posted beside you.

You tilted your head up towards the source of the sound, your eyes landing on signature green lenses that did little to conceal the hint of a smile that lingered in the usually stern eyes they covered, even after it had faded from Nanami’s lips. You tried to mask your embarrassment at the idea of being caught by returning a timid smile in a quiet moment of shared intimacy before turning back to face the speaker.

Your attention never fully returned to the meeting.

You grew closer to Nanami, thanks partly to the proximity granted by your new rank but largely to a shared appreciation for quick wit, such as the clever clapback he’d flatly directed at Gojo in response to one of his typical bothersome antics in the break room one afternoon. Between Gojo’s protests and your burst of laughter in response, you’d almost missed the brief, self-satisfied expression that adorned Nanami’s handsome face.

Over time, wherever the two of you found yourselves together became your shared stage. As you each became acquainted with what made you tick, you found yourselves playfully trading the quips that were forming the alphabet for this new language you were carefully developing together.

Even more than the much-needed levity brought on by these interactions, the rare glimpses into Nanami’s rich, deep chuckles quickly became ones you’d grown to live for.

Nanami is funny when he tries to be and even funnier when he doesn’t. While his candor and frankness are attributes you both admire and love about him, they’ve also made for some hilarious moments.

You’d handled a particularly messy exorcism together one day, consisting of a Grade 1 curse that punched far above its weight and that had tested the limits of both your abilities combined, resulting in a victory that was too narrow for comfort. You caught your breaths for a moment, after which the first thing Nanami did when he finally turned to you with a most serious look on his face, was to express how inconvenient it would be to have to make the trek to two towns over to reach the only dry cleaner who would be able to remove the kind of stain left by the curse on his signature suit.

You’d initially shot him an incredulous look in response, as you processed his surreal fixation on the least of many problems, borne out of none other than his acute sense of practicality, before bursting into a fit of giggles, a display that had you still holding your stomach in laughter days later.

The close bond you’d developed eventually spilled outside the boundaries of the workplace, venturing into the uncharted waters that lie beyond friendship.

Just as you and Nanami parted after being joined in a tender first kiss, a sudden feeling of inadequacy, a monster as internal as it was intrusive, reared its ugly head in the form of nervous laughter that uncontrollably spilled from you.

You lowered your head, eyes fixing the small gap on the ground that separated you two, frustrated both at your mind for ruining an otherwise perfect moment and embarrassed at your body’s unchecked reaction, averting what you’d assumed would be a confused gaze from Nanami, until you heard him mirror you with a light chuckle.

He gently tilted your chin up, and your eyes locked onto an expression, not unlike the one you’d exchanged in the back of that classroom on that fateful day, a reassuring one that said “I get you”. He pulled you back into a gentle embrace, as your eyes tore up and your insecurities began to fade, and it dawned upon you that you were exactly where you belonged.

It was only once you’d gotten together, now joined as partners in both banter and life, that you were introduced to just how truly expansive Kento’s repertoire of repartee was.

As you tested your mind against this untethered version of Nanami, you proved to be a worthy opponent but soon found that even your full professional level of proficiency in banter did not completely match his surprisingly more native level, a slight disparity he exploited only responsibly, as a means to maintain the playful tone of your verbal sparring, which always ensued in hilarity from both your parts, even in its more impassioned moments.

This tacit control he held, illustrative of the healthy polarity that so beautifully ruled your dynamic, made him even more attractive than he already was to you.

The burgeoning excitement stemming from the chain of events that was your elopement, honeymoon, and subsequent holiday at the best beachfront property available in Kuantan had culminated in an untameable spark of passion between you two, which only compounded the effect that the sweet sound of your laughter had had on Nanami who, unbeknownst to you, had been set off like a man possessed.

You were lying beneath Kento, as you came down from your second peak of the evening, blissful giggles muffled by your cupped palms covering your face, not knowing what to otherwise do with yourself in your overstimulated state.

In one swift movement, he used one of his hands to gently remove your hands from your face before firmly pinning them by the bed frame above your head as he leaned down to your face, his slightly parted lips ghosting over yours as though to capture the sweet melody of your now diminishing laughter.

By the time you perceived the greedy glint in his eyes, it was already too late; in an inaugural act that would later settle as a habit on countless future occasions, he used his free hand to tickle you, starting at the base of your neck, letting out a mischievous chuckle of his own as he hit all of the sensitive parts of your bare skin along the way.

You squirmed beneath him, completely at his mercy, crying out in bouts of hysterical laughter that only served to reinvigorate him, his fingers unrelenting in their onslaught as he continued working his way down, inching closer to his intended destination, endeavoring to draw much more than just some laughs out of you, as you gradually went from imploring him to stop to begging him not to.

Nanami’s laughs usually came in the form of low chuckles, amused snickers, and a signature light rumble of his chest, all rarely exceeding a temperate volume. When they exceptionally did, it was a sight nothing short of delightful.

One morning, shortly after breakfast, you were reading off a passage from a Japanese book you were showing him, as you often did, in your efforts to learn the language. You stumbled upon a word that you unknowingly mispronounced, eliciting a chuckle from Kento who asked you to repeat it, and who laughed again as you did, a little louder than usual, this time. Your mock offense turned into amusement as you observed him struggling to maintain that tightly held control of his.

You repeated the word over and over again, now fully determined in your quest to bring him to his undoing, and it wasn’t long until he was bent over, apologizing to you in between fits of unusually raucous laughter and you joyfully saw him as never before.

His laugh grew contagious, and soon enough you joined him, getting so carried away that you inadvertently let out a small audible snort before covering your mouth in horror, after which you you both decidedly lost control, a genuine roar emanating from his chest as you enjoyed an unexpected moment of euphoria.

Rare as those more intense moments were, they did not take away from the fact that every single instance of your playful ribbing that resulted in the scrunching of his nose, the crinkling of his solemn eyes, and the signature twist of the left corner of his mouth as he grinned, that every moment of good-natured teasing that triggered that familiar warm bubbling feeling of exuberance that rose within you served as lovely daily reminders of the foundational impact of laughter on your beautiful relationship.

Thanks for reading! 🩵

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nessa007 · 2 years ago

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reasons to love live action ariel/eric

they both love to collect things. ariel collects things from the above world and keeps them in her grotto. eric collects things from his travels on his ship/from the ocean and keeps them in his library. the scene between them in the library is truly everything 🥹🥰

ariel showing him there’s even more to the things he had collected, smashing the rock to reveal what’s inside it, blowing into the shell and eric is completely in awe of her knowing these things

eric is so drawn to the sea because he was washed up onto land from a shipwreck as a baby and taken in by the royal family. so the sea is basically where he came from, just like ariel. ariel rescuing him just makes him even more drawn to the sea/ariel.

they both feel somewhat trapped. eric in his castle feeling misplaced and like he has to be a perfect prince and ariel feels trapped in the ocean. they both just want to escape and believe there is so much more to life than where they currently are.

ariel finding the mermaid figurine in eric’s library and eric saying “my little mermaid” (i SCREAMED internally) 😭 which he then gave it to ariel to keep ❤️

ariel pointing at the aries constellation to show eric what her name is and eventually leading him to correctly say “ariel” to which he replies “that’s a beautiful name” this was the cutest thing and so clever and this moment just has me so giddy i can’t 🥹

ursula making ariel forget that she has to get eric to kiss/fall in love with her in order for her to remain human. so eric/ariel’s relationship is so much more genuine. like we saw eric was about to kiss ariel when they were lying on the boat during “kiss the girl” but ariel got nervous and sat up. ariel just wanted to see eric again when she became human and wanted to get to know him and find out more about him and his world and they ended up falling for each other because of who they are as people and how similar they are to each other

their HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 🙌🥰

when eric slightly touches ariel’s hand as she sings to him after she rescued him

eric getting his own amazing song, “wild uncharted waters” where he sings about not being able to forget about ariel and can’t get her and her voice out of his head (i’m obsessed the way they even feature ariel’s voice on the song… literal chills)

ariel saving eric’s life for the second time when she steers the ship into ursula. she remembers how to steer the ship from when she saw eric on his ship when she saw him for the first time the night she saved him from drowning

when they go off exploring on their day out and they have so much fun with the townspeople, dancing and just being free

then they come back to the castle after falling into the lake and they’re soaked and giggling while hiding from eric’s mother and grimsby

ariel wearing eric’s hat and then she so adorably puts it back on eric’s head as she walks off to her room and eric is so clearly smitten with her

the way eric’s feelings for ariel are so strong that even ursula couldn’t make them disappear despite him being under her spell. he still cared so much for ariel during this and asked where she was

“ariel. it was you all along. i should’ve known.” 😭

eric pleading for them to send out ships to go find ariel after ursula is killed

eric finding ariel’s blue dress in the ocean but then putting it back in the water because he feels she’s gone forever and there’s no way they can be together 💔

eric sitting alone on the steps of his castle thinking about ariel / ariel lying on the rock (when she’s back to being a mermaid) looking at eric’s castle

eric looking up and seeing ariel in her blue dress petting max and he hugs her like he can’t believe she’s real and ariel hugs him so tight and they finally KISSSSS 😭🥰

the two of them getting to go off exploring the world together at the end and are just free to be who they are and go where they want TOGETHER

i could write even more but this is all off the top of my head.

I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!!

#ariel x eric #the little mermaid #the little mermaid 2023 #the little mermaid spoilers #text post

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b00kdiary · 1 year ago

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Euphoria | Ithan Holstrom

Ithan Holstrom x Plus Size Reader

Where Y/N finds herself needing to be reminded just how desirable she is, and Ithan Holstrom is more than willing to show her. Here's to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some SJM men love too xo

Warnings: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, eventual smut and the Ithan being utterly infatuated with his thick, beautiful lady.

MASTERLIST

I stared, unblinking, as Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, kissed his way down the neck of a gorgeous and dark-skinned Faun. I trailed my gaze along as he sucked and bit gently against her soft skin and perfect bone structure, the Faun's eyes closed, her face a mirror of lust and bliss.

The grip I had on my glass tightened and I willed myself not the shatter it, to not draw attention to myself, to how jealous and seething I was.

The fluorescent lights inside the White Raven danced over the two of them, highlighting their ungodly beauty as they danced and rocked against each other to the beat of music. My chest tightened at the way Ruhn's arms wrapped so effortlessly around her slim waist, resting against the perfectly flat length of her stomach, revealed by her cropped bralette.

She was lovely by most standards and typical of the kind of females Ruhn was seen with- tall with small breasts and a small, yet nice ass and petite enough that there wasn't a single place that sat out or rubbed or curved too much.

Unlike me.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, taking a long indulgent sip of my drink to drive away the dryness and the sorrow. It was hard not to trail my mind into those uncharted, dark waters, the kind of scary, hollow place of insecurity where I could pick myself apart and rip any sense of security I had to pieces.

Because unlike that Faun, who had turned now, her toned back facing me as Ruhn kissed her, kissed her with so much passion and need that it made me feel sick. Unlike her, I was not petite or skinny and I did not look like the kind of girl that Ruhn Danaan desired.

"You're glaring, Y/N." A deep voice interrupted my pity party and snapped me back into this room, away from all the meanest, cruellest thoughts I had of myself.

I turned, levelling out my eyes and surprise-filled me when I met with honey-brown eyes and a smile that could melt a girl's heart and drop her panties.

My lip kicked up as I took in the golden-brown soft waves of hair and tan sun-kissed skin, my gaze moved down, over the acres of strong, corded muscle that was further accentuated by the form-fitting t-shirt he wore.

"Ithan Holstrom," I mused, cocking my head at him, and seeing his lip tilt into a lazy smile "You're the last person I expected to see here, I didn't think this was your kind of scene."

"It's not, not really but," He shrugged, glancing over his broad shoulder to where a few wolves sat gathered around a table "But the pack forced me."

"You don't strike me as the type of guy who can be forced to do anything," I raised a brow, tossing a long strand of hair over my shoulder and felt Ithan's eyes track each movement. "Don't try and hide it, you came here for a good time, a good fuck maybe?"

He chuckled at my playful words, the sound rough and heady, running over me and prickling my skin. I forced myself to breathe as he stepped closer, close enough that his hard chest brushed against my breasts, and I felt the warmth and scent of him.

"Is that what you came for?" He asked, though his words weren't a question, not as he looked over my head, his stare pointed, straight to where Ruhn and that Faun stood "Or were you planning to glare at Ruhn Danaan all night, hoping he'd notice you?"

"Don't be a prick," I scowled, my lip curling and I pushed at his chest, hearing a rough bark of laughter escape him as he saw the fire burning in my eyes " I might be pining after Ruhn, but it's no different to how you trailed after Bryce like a lost puppy all these years, Holstrom."

His eyes darkened at that- those honeyed pupils shadowing into a starless night sky. Bryce was a sore topic still, even after two years and I felt guilt gnaw at me, hating myself for mentioning her, for the way that smile tilted down now.

"Bryce didn't want me, I knew she didn't," Ithan gritted back, his jaw locked and his eyes hard "Ruhn might want you, he could want you as badly as you want him, you're just too scared to find out."

"I'm not scared," I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest, and yet again, I didn't miss how his steely gaze fell, something sparking in them as my top lowered and revealed my ample cleavage. I clear my throat, ignoring the twist in my gut "I'm just realistic, I know Ruhn's type, I've seen his type and I know I'm not it."

"His type?" Ithan mused, raising a dark, thick brow at me "What? Gorgeous? Desirable? No, you're definitely not his type." It was sarcastically drawled, accompanied by a sassy eye roll and it was the least serious I had seen Ithan in years- since Connor died.

"Try petite, skinny and perfect," I snort, but my voice isn't as joking as I would like, it's heavier, weighed down by the reality of the words.

"Bullshit, Y/N," Ithan scowls, and the way his eyes glared out in protest, in defence, it was as if he was furious at me for even saying what I did. "If Ruhn fucking Danaan thinks you're not perfect then he's a bigger asshole than I already thought he was."

I felt my face heat, my body turning hot and needy at his words, at the honesty and conviction behind them. He stepped closer, close enough that I smelt the mint and alcohol on his warm breath, and a fire sparked in my core- and I didn't step back.

"You think I'm perfect?" I whispered, my voice hoarse and shaking slightly. I couldn't stop staring into his eyes, couldn't stop watching the lust roil in them, darkening them by each second, we inched closer, drawn together like magnets. "Don't fuck with me Ithan, I mean it."

"Y/N, while you were busy glaring down Danaan and the Faun," Ithan said, his voice slipping into a low timbre, the gruffness clawing over my nerves and making me breathless "I was staring at you."

"You were?" My voice was softer than I wanted it to be, but my defences were wearing down. I had always found Ithan attractive, always wondered what he would be like as more than a friend. And as his hand snaked around my waist, large, veined, and ringed, and slowly dragged me to him, I knew that those feelings hadn't faded with time.

"You might not believe me, but I was staring at you, alongside damn near every other male in this room, Y/N," Ithan muttered, his face inches from mine and when his nose brushed against my cheek, my eyes fluttered. "If you had just looked around you, you would have seen how many wanted you- and how could they not?"

I felt his hand trail down my back and sides, over the rolls and curves of flesh, and I felt nauseous, hating that he could feel it. But he growled, a purely animal sound, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he was holding himself back as if touching me brought him to the edge of his control.

"Ithan," I swallowed, steeling my spine, and forcing back the fierceness and power I was used to wielding with men, "I'm not Bryce Quinlan."

"And I'm not Ruhn Danaan," He shot back immediately, his lip quirking "But that doesn't change the fact that I fucking want you, and I know you want me too."

I inhaled a shaky, long breath, my throat drying out at his words and at all the sinful, dirty images that flashed through my mind, filthy enough that I had to clench my thighs shut.

"Let's walk to yours, no cab," I say hoarsely, ignoring the way he grinned as I grabbed his hand and began dragging him to the exit. He followed dutifully, his fingers interlocking with mine, his thumb brushing soothing, soft strokes against my palm.

"Why?" He laughed, his brow raising at me as I glanced over my shoulder and I didn't miss the way my body ignited, striking, and burning as his gaze trailed over my skin.

"Because I can't promise I won't ride you in the back seat," I said honestly, gnawing on my lip as my eyes met his over my shoulder "And I don't want the night to end before it's even begun."

"Fuck," Ithan swore, low and dirty, and I could smell his arousal.

Just like I knew he could smell mine.

***

We walked through The Wolves Den with ease, silent and quick-paced as we waded through each corridor and climbed floor after floor.

Ithan had wanted to take the lift straight to his floor and had been so on edge that he looked as if he might have taken me against the wall in the goddamn lobby if I had given him the say-so. But I wanted him at breaking point, wanted that wolf inside him to come out clawing, biting and roaring.

So instead, we walked, each second that passed and the silence that stretched drawing the tension tauter and tauter, and I could feel my blood thrum in anticipation. Ithan looked over at me as we walked down the final corridor- and the smirk he wore, the knowing gleam in his eyes, told me everything he wanted to do.

"You have got to be kidding me, Ithan," A voice declared, female and high-pitched, loud enough that it grated against my senses and had both of us coming to a reluctant halt. I eyed the fifth door, which happened to be Ithan's room, with need. "Bringing the trash home?"

"Watch it, Amelie," Ithan growled, his eyes tapering in warning as he turned to glare at the dark-haired, golden-eyed female before him. His pack member- and a total hateful bitch.

"Why? Scared I'll scare away your whore for the night?" She snorted, her arms folding over her chest as she looked at me, amusement and cruelty gleaming in her eyes. I saw her stare trail between us, taking in our interlocked hands, the way our arousals wafted in the air, and she scowled.

Jealous, that much was obvious.

"Hey, Ithan?" I mused, glancing sideways at him, and smiling sweetly. He rose a brow at me, confused and half-amused. "Are the walls here thin?" I stared pointedly, past Amelie, to the open door at her side, number four- right next to Ithan's.

Ithan seemed to catch onto my thought trail and chuckled lowly, nodding his head "Very thin."

"Amelie," I smirked, my hand trailing up Ithan's muscled chest as he punched in the code and pushed open his room door, "When you touch yourself tonight, imagining that Ithan's fucking you and not me, don't be too loud- Ithan might hear it and go limp."

"You fucking-" Her eyes burned, and so did her cheeks, outrage and embarrassment filling her as she stepped toward me.

"Have a good night, I know I will." I winked and Ithan's laughter flittered over to me, caressing my skin like a phantom touch. The door clicked shut behind me, and suddenly, Amelie was gone, and it was just me and him, in his room, together, and alone.

"I don't think I've ever seen Amelie that red before, she's not used to being put in her place like that," Ithan noted, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leaned against the back of his sofa "She's not going to let that go, you know?"

"Amelie's a neurotic, insecure bitch," I scowl, walking a few tentative steps further into his room, "She can get fucked, I couldn't care less."

Ithan doesn't say anything else, remaining silent as my gaze lifts and washes over his room. I take in the four bare walls and the simple brown sofa, glass table and TV, a large double bed at the furthest wall and a chest of drawers and a matching wardrobe at its side.

"Not what you were expecting?" Ithan asked, cocking his head to the side as he observed my expression. I pursed my lips, looking over his folded arms, the way the muscles bulged, and I swallowed.

"I'm not sure what I expected," I say honestly, my voice quiet and when I slowly began to walk over to Ithan, I felt the tension in the air go taut. I paused, standing just before where he sat on the sofa's back, looking at me with a wry smile. "Were you being honest when you said that the walls are thin?"

"I was," He chuckled, revealing two sharp canines on either side of his upper teeth and I shivered at the sight of them. I imagined them against my skin, teasing, scrapping, and biting and I clenched my hands. "Were you being honest when you said you would be having a good night?"

I smiled at the heat in his eyes, at the way we were so close, yet we didn't touch not in one single place, and I knew he was holding out, restraining himself from grabbing on to me, just as I was.

"I plan to have a good night," I say, cocking my head in challenge "But really, it's up to you how good of a night for me it is."

One second, I'm standing before Ithan, smirking, cocky as I watch the lust burning in his eyes, and then the next, his fingers are wrapping around my throat, his ring digging into my jugular as he pulls me to him.

I groan as his mouth collides with mine and my body shakes at the heady, desperate way his lips move against me, tasting me, devouring me, taking me like it's his last night on Midgard. I melted into the strength and solidity of him, his hand at my throat, the firm pressure there, making my body turn weak.

Ithan's lips move against me, deep, languished strokes that fan the embers sparking in my stomach and I dig my nails into his chest, curling my fingers around the fabric of his t-shirt, needing to tether myself to him, to keep myself upright.

I whimper at the feeling of his left hand descending my body, his fingers gripping against every bit of flesh and curve with need, all the way from the top of my spine to the curve of my ass, and he groans as he cups me, the flesh spilling out and soft against his palm.

“Bed, now,” I pull back, my faces only inches from his and we’re both panting wildly, lust and need dancing in our gazes, like a mirror.

“Hm, not sure I’m a fan of being told what to do in my own place, sweetheart,” Ithan smirks, and my eyes flutter as he draws me closer, biting and suckling against my neck, the feeling of his canines against my skin driving me crazy. “Why don’t you try again?”

“Stop trying to be an alpha male, Ithan,” I manage to grit out, desperately trying to force down the moans that threaten to slip past my lips, but his mouth and tongue against my hot skin make it so hard. “We both know you’re really just a puppy- ah-“

A squeal escapes me as both of Ithan’s arms wrap around me, hooking under my ass and there’s a whoosh of air as he yanks me up into his arms, so fast my heart lurches and I’m locking my legs around his waist and holding onto his t-shirt so tightly I’m surprised it didn’t tear.

“You’re far too coherent right now,” Ithan grumbles and fuck if the sound of it doesn’t go straight between my legs. I hold onto him tighter as he begins to carry me over to bed, looking as if my weight is less than nothing to him right now. “I’m going to need to fix that.”

“Please do,” I whisper, tossing my hair from my face and bringing my lips back against his, slower, deeper, the hardness and ridges of his body brushing against my breasts feeling so good and the long, thick length rubbing against my thigh feels even better.

Ithan smirks against my lips as we thump against the bed and true to his word, Ithan drops me on the bed, so hard and fast I grunt at the impact, my body and tits bouncing as I land on my ass. The sight makes him smile, and the way he towers over me, looking like some kind of God has every nerve in my burning.

“You’re fucking incredible,” He mutters, and the honey in his eyes is gone, melted into the darkest chocolate, the kind that told me every filthy, heady, dirty thing he wanted to do to me. I leaned back on my palms as he rested a knee on the mattress, lowering his pleased face down to mine. “But I bet you’d look even better without all the clothes.”

His hand snakes around to the zip at the back of my top and fuck, fuck, fuck- I freeze.

“Or not?” He mutters, a crease forming between his brows at the way my body physically locks up and his hand immediately stops, resting flat against my back, his thumb rubbing softly to soothe me. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want-“

“No, no-“ I shake my head, clearing my throat as I bring a hand to cup his jaw, loving the way he melts into the touch, “It was just a habit, a muscle memory reaction- No, trust me, I want to, I want you, Ithan.”

“Good, because I want you too, Y/N,” He mutters, smiling as he brings his mouth down, but he doesn’t pull at the zipper, instead he kisses me, tastes me, and enjoys me, and my hands curl into the root of his hair, glad for that moment of reprieve.

I can tell he’s being sweet because he is sweet, and now that he knows I’m hesitating, he won’t make the next move until he’s sure I’m ready- and I am, I am so fucking ready.

I pull back from him, my eyes locking with his and the room is so silent, deadly silent, as I draw my hand back and ever so slowly tug down the zipper to my top. The sound is almost sensual, making Ithan’s face darken, in anticipation, in feral lust.

I gnaw on my lip as the zipper pulls free and still keeping my eyes on his, I draw the top forward, down my arms, every movement deliberate until the fabric is discarded on the floor beside us. Ithan says nothing as he stares down at me, as he stares down at my bare chest, my breasts heavy and aching and I’ve never been gladder that I chose not to wear a bra.

His Adam’s apple bobs and the breath seizes in my lungs as his cold hand traces across my back, around to my chest and he groans, low and deep, the second his hand cups around my breast. I gasp as he kneads the flesh, his fingers slowly and deliberately tugging on my pebbled nipple.

“Ithan,” I growl, I can’t help it, he’s staring at me, looking like he wants to devour me, but he hasn’t bloody moved. “Do something, for Cthona’s sake.”

“So needy,” He croons, and I nearly sigh when he leans forward again and pushes me back to lay flat against the mattress. My body shivered as he climbed onto the bed, his large figure moving to hover over me, and I felt almost small in comparison to him, a feeling that was unfamiliar to me.

He kissed lower down my neck, his mouth inching closer as his hand kneaded my breast, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers and tugging gently igniting so many sparks that I couldn't even speak, merely moaning breathlessly with each sure touch.

I gasped when his head ducked, his eyes shielded by the strands of hair that fell forward as he plucked one nipple into his mouth. My back arched and my fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to hurt as the raw feeling of his tongue and teeth teased me.

“Ithan,” I moaned when he began biting against my nipple, not too hard, but firm enough that I felt the shock go through every nerve ending, sparking, burning, and throbbing, so hard I felt it in my core.

My head spins as Ithan begins shifting lower, and I cringe when he begins trailing his hands down my stomach, instantly thinking over every roll and stretch mark and flesh that was there- not that he seemed to mind. No, he kissed against the skin, trailing his tongue languidly down, just as infatuated as he had been before.

The tension in the air is thick as Ithan runs his calloused hands down the side of my thick thighs, kneading the flesh and teasing the material of my skirt, his intentions obvious. And with the ache beginning to become unbearable between my legs, I don’t hesitate to lift my hips, glad when he immediately hooks his fingers into the top of my skirt- pulling it and my underwear down in one go.

It’s almost amusing how quickly he discards the excess material over his shoulder, so transfixed on the sight of my naked body before him, sprawled out and burning from the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He groans, his voice hoarse and the tightness coiling in my chest eases as he runs his hand up my thighs, feeling the cellulite and stretch marks and grins as he spread my legs apart for him to come between.

My heart races in anticipation as he sinks down below my parted thighs, his eyes burning with satisfaction as he comes level to my core, and the urge to clamp my legs shut fills me- which he seems to sense, if his strong grip on either side of my thigh, keeping spread wide apart is any indication.

I feel his hot breath against my most sensitive part and just when I feel like the seconds are dragging into minutes, making me fidgety and restless, I gasp at the feeling of his tongue flicking against my clit, soft and probing, coaxing out quiet moans from me.

“That’s it,” Ithan purrs and the sound vibrates against my core, making me clench my fingers into the duvet under me for purchase. Ithan seems encouraged by my moans, his tongue lapping against my clit in long languish strokes that draw pleasure from me in waves. “Taste so fucking good.”

He grins against me, cocky, sure, and under any other circumstances I’d hate it, but right now, I can’t find it in me. Instead, I reach down, lacing my fingers through his soft hair, tugging, yanking, and scratching, coaxing Ithan to give me more- which he happily does.

“Fuck, oh my-“ Two fingers prod my wet entrance, and the sound is so lewd as he quickly stuffs the two digits inside me, stretching me in the most perfect yet painful way, especially when he curls those two digits, hitting a spot that has me seeing stars.

“There we go,” Ithan coaxes softly, feeling my body start to vibrate and writhe, that pool of pleasure building and building within me, plummeting fast and harder as he fucks his fingers in and out steadily, in tandem with the smooth agile movement of his tongue against my clit. “There we go, such a good girl.”

I cry out, trembling and moaning as a white-hot blaze burns through me, starting at my core and running into my thighs and stomach, all the way down to my toes. I pant, my head fogging with the overwhelming blanket of pleasure that Ithan’s smothered me with.

Ithan groans, his teeth tugging at my sore clit before he eventually lets go, his fingers slipping out of me with ease. I exhale harshly at the loss of contact, sagging back as the euphoria dies down and my body settles into calm again.

Ithan ascends my body, a shit-eating grin on his wet lips and I don’t have time to even speak before he captures my mouth in his, pushing his tongue deep into me, letting me taste myself.

“How’s that for a puppy, sweetheart?” He mutters, biting my bottom lip and I roll my eyes at the sheer masculine satisfaction in his voice, in those bright eyes as he stares at me.

“Don’t be an arrogant prick,” I snipe back, ignoring Ithan’s laughter as I place either hand on his shoulder and the surprise that lights his face as I yank him down onto the bed beside me, flipping us so that I’m straddling him, makes me grin. “I’m still in charge, Ithan.”

“If this is you being in charge, I’m not fucking complaining,” He smirks lazily, his voice heavy with lust as he leans back, his eyes oh so slowly trailing across my body atop his, looking like the cat that got the cream as he enjoys every inch of me.

I smile, soft, as I run my hands against the seam of his t-shirt, my thumbs hooking under the material and slowly dragging it up- revealing inch after inch of tan, smooth skin, so much corded muscle it makes me hot. Ithan easily helps, and it’s not long before the material is over his head and thrown to the ever-growing pile of clothes on his floor.

I drag my core against the front seam of Ithan’s jeans, and our groans mix in the air at the feeling of his hard length brushing against me. I don’t waste any time, Ithan’s eyes never leaving me as I move my hands to the front of his jeans, my fingers fumbling against the button and zipper, almost desperate as I open them, tugging the materials down just a little.

“Shit,” I mutter, my eyes widening as Ithan’s hard cock slips out, breaking free and slapping back against his stomach. Ithan snorts at my reaction, at the sheer surprise on my face at the size of him, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment as he smiles at me. “Shut up.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” His eyes flutter as I grip my hand around his hard length, my fingers struggling to find purchase as I palm up and down, every moan and gasp that escapes him egging me on. “You’re fucking killing me here, sweetheart.”

“Poor puppy,” I tease, smirking and Ithan’s canines expose in warning, his hands coming to either side of my hips, and when he slowly lifts me up, dragging me closer to him, I prepare myself for the feeling of him inside me.

“Shit, shit,” I moan as Ithan’s cock brushes my entrance and I ever so slowly sink down, down, down, until he’s stretching me like he’s going to break me in two, until his tip brushes something far and deep inside me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Ithan swears, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips and thighs so tightly, I can feel the cut of his nails.

I flutter my eyes as the burn soon seeps into pleasure and we both suck in a gasp of air when I drag up, so deliberate and slow, all the way to the tip, before slamming back down, hard and fast. Ithan swears, his chest rising and falling so fast as I do it again and again, his cock slipping against my wet core like it was made for me.

“Ithan, oh-“ I whimper as I ride up and down his cock, alternating between fast, hard strokes and long, slow ones, Ithan’s hands at my hips guiding me along, helping me chase after the relief, and I know I won’t last long, not with the cord within me tightening so perfectly.

“Look at you riding my cock so well,” Ithan praises roughly, his teeth gritted as he pants and moans every time he sinks into me, and when my eyes lock with his, I’ve never felt more seen, more desired in my life. “Look at those tits bouncing, fuck, taking me so good Y/N.”

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

My fingers scratch against Ithan’s chest and abs, my body starting to shake and weaken at how good it feels, how he’s hitting against a spot that makes my insides turn to mush, again and again. Ithan must sense my fatigue, sense my head spinning, because he grabs me, and within seconds, we’ve flipped over and he’s on top of me now.

His hand guides my thighs around his hips and my eyes roll, my back arches, as he sinks in even deeper and I whimper into his lips, into his mouth at the brutal pace he sets, slamming into me again and again, unrelenting, and merciless, so fucking good I can’t catch my breath.

My eyes flutter open as Ithan’s hand wraps around my throat, pressing firmly on either side of my neck and when my eyes meet his when I see the burning, commanding, domineering power behind them, it’s like something in me rips in two.

He hits a spot, some magic, fathomless spot inside me and it all shatters to pieces like glass.

“Ithan, I’m-“ I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Ithan grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it,” Ithan whispers, panting against my lips, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him. “Everyone in the whole fucking Dens gonna know whose making you feel this good.”

I whimper at the filthy words he grunts into my ear, my body trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Ithan still fucked in and out of me, chasing his own high and when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

The sound he makes, the growl that escapes him, reverberates through the whole damn room and my body is aching as he comes to a gradual stop inside me, our sweaty, panting bodies, melting into each other as we climb down from our peaks.

Ithan groans as he slowly slips out of me, the feeling of his warm cum leaking from me and dripping down my skin making me blush, and the small smirk that lines his lips as he inches back to look at me tells me he finds it both amusing and adorable.

“I can feel your cum leaking down my thigh,” I breathe and Ithan's eyes flutter, rolling as he laughs, burying his face into my neck dramatically, as if I were completely ruining him.

“Keep saying shit like that, Y/N and I might just have to chain you to this bed,” Ithan mutters against my skin, kissing and nibbling across my neck and jaw before he meets my lips again, kissing me sweetly as if memorising the taste and feel of me.

“After that, I’m tempted to let you, Ithan,” I grin, sighing as he rests his weight on top of me, his arms on either side making sure not to crush me, but the warmth and touch is welcome.

“Are you still thinking about Ruhn Danaan?” He muses, cocking his head, and the honey has returned back to his eyes, that smile turning boyish and soft again as he stares down at me.

“No,” I say simply, honestly, dragging my hand up his chest and neck, before settling against his jaw, my thumb drawing lines across the hard ridge there. “Are you still thinking about Bryce Quinlan?”

“Definitely not,” He smiles, earnest and firm and the sight makes my entire body heat again.

“Good,” I let my eyes darken, letting him see just what I was thinking as I wrap a leg around his hip, drawing his hardening cock back down against me- and he grins with feral delight at the action. “Because I haven’t quite gotten you out of my system yet, Puppy.”

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

#sarah j maas #sjm books #crescent city #crescent city smut #ithan holstrom #ithan holstrom x reader #ithan holstrom smut #ithan holstrom x plus size reader #smut #plus size reader #plus size smut #plus size y/n #acotar #tog fanfic

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beatingheart-bride · 3 months ago

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"What?"

If Emily had been taken aback by the Burkes' announcement, the Graceys' announcement absolutely baffled her. It sent her reeling, and for a moment, Emily couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she was in the middle of the dream. Perhaps it was still the eve of the twins' birthday, and she was still fast asleep in bed, her head going wild after a long, arduous day of preparations for the party. Surely there was no other logical explanation for not just one life-changing announcement, but two, was there?

But ultimately, something told Emily that she was wide awake, and thus she dismissed the notion that the entire day had been nothing more than her imagination going wild as she slumbered after a hard day's work.

So then, what other explanation could there possibly be for such unbelievable luck?

Could...could this be nothing more than a trick in poor taste, an insensitive Halloween jest that Dorian and Elizabeth were pulling on them? Such a theory was dismissed the second it came to mind: neither of them would ever joke about such a matter. It was far too grave a matter to joke about.

So then, did that mean that it was all true? Was there truly going to be another baby in the mansion?

The entire table erupted into cheers, and Lon and Erika both shot up from their seats, leaving behind all of their gifts in favor of running over to their godparents and catching them in a tight embrace. Once the initial shock had passed, Emily too abandoned her chair and made her way over, grinning from ear to ear as she gave each of her closest friends a warm, tender hug.

"That's wonderful," she exulted, her big, cerulean eyes misting over as she held Elizabeth close. "Congratulations, both of you: we're so happy for you! You're both going to make amazing parents!"

Lon could barely contain his excitement as he hopped up and down, inquiring, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

@beatingheart-bride

And it was very clear that this was the best gift the children could've gotten that day: After blowing out the candles and having a little cake, Lon and Erika tore into their mountain of gifts with gusto, finding all manner of delights, ranging from storybooks to dolls to costumes for dress-up to a pair of lovely watercolor sets, just to name a few. But while these gifts were delightful, and there was no denying the pair's excitement over them, it was clear that their grandparents staying at Gracey Manor was the most wonderful gift of all.

And while the festivities got underway (with Lon eagerly joining his great-uncles and Wilhelm in a little bobbing for apples, and Erika asking June and Josephine if they wanted to make some spooky arts and crafts with her), Dorian saw an opportunity to speak to his best friend, saying, "I have those fabric designs I'd like you to look at, if you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all!" Randall nodded, setting aside his slice of cake as he took the designs and looked them over, only for his brow to knit together: Bottles and rattles? Little storks? Teddy bears, stars, and moons in pastel pinks and blues?

"Dorian, these are patterns for baby clothes," he frowned. "Why do you want-!!!!"

It was at that moment that it hit him like a ton of bricks, his eyes widening and his jaws dropping open as his head whipped back to look at a smiling Elizabeth and a grinning Dorian. Randall spluttered for a moment, trying to get the words out, but all he could manage to do was point to Elizabeth and stutter out, "-You are?"

"Yes," she grinned, as he then pointed to Dorian, sputtering, "Y-You...you mean...?"

"We do," the young master grinned as he squeezed his wife's hand, saying what he and Elizabeth had been itching to tell their best friends all month long:

"We're expecting!"

#theheadlessgroom #hatbox ghost #randall #RP: Two Worlds; One Family #(What a fantastic ending to this RP; Josephine and August verbally TEARING into their former neighbors;)#(Ripping them a new one for how they mistreated their family!)#(And then we're diving right into a fresh AU unlike anything we've ever done before;)#(Uncharted waters; if you will: how perfect is that?)#(Not to say that we have any AUs that don't bring anything new to the table;)#(But the genderbend AU is really going to flip everything upside-down!)#(It's going to be so fun to explore!)

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celestialprincesse · 8 months ago

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𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

Baths have to be one of your favourite things. There's something about lounging in the epsom salts filled bath, candles flickering about the edge, lights dimmed low and your favourite playlist thrumming quietly through your speaker that puts you on cloud nine.

Ever since your date - since Nikto vowed to fuck you properly - you've been a bubbly, gushy mess of feelings and fluttering in your tummy. To be honest, you're not so sure of the protocol now, of when it's appropriate to try and arrange a second date, or dig through your nightstand for the box of condoms which have probably long since expired. You've always been the one being chased, never the one doing the chasing. It's equal parts frustrating and so utterly thrilling.

What you're not aware of is how much your neighbour is struggling too. He's not sure how much longer he'll last with masturbating to the thought of you, imagining what silly little lingerie you'll wear when he finally takes to to bed, daydreaming of how you'd look under him, those mink lashes fluttering and rolling as he thrusts into you, how you'd whine and mewl at his every word of praise. He's getting desperate. A desperation which he's forcing himself to ignore so as not to frighten you like a stray gunshot with a wild rabbit.

Nikto, eventually gathers his strength, steels himself and forces away the unfamiliar stress he hold up tight in his shoulder blades, his balled fists at his side. The sound of your footsteps pounding down the stairs after only the first firm knock he raps on your door eases his anxiety, the look on your beaming face only serving to dissipate it completely.

"Hi!" You chirp breathlessly, still a little warm from having been mid way through blowdrying your hair.

"Princess." He acknowledges, giving a silent nod to your open door as if to ask whether or not you'll let him in. Not obliging would be foolish.

Your home is still uncharted waters to him, as is the way you take his hand so easily to guide him into the kitchen. So bold, so wonderfully eager to play house. "I bought Russian grey tea." A box is waved before his eyes, although he's far more interested in the lovely bashful smile you wear as you prance about the kitchen to flick on the kettle. "You're very thoughtful. Thank you." The thickly accented rumble of his voice sends shivers rocketing up your spine - shivers which he fails to miss.

Before you can even register, he's at your back, a massive hand coming to brush through the still silky blowout you'd managed to perfect on your hair. From the absolute reverence in his eyes, you're pretty sure the imposing Russian in your kitchen likes it too. "Pretty." He admires, breaking the comfortable silence descended upon the two of you. "You did this yourself? The hair?" The clinking of a teaspoon against the side of the pink porcelain mug accompanies the sound of the little hum you give, not registering the way you lean into his hand.

There's a vague feeling in the back of your head that tells you to create some distance, to pull away from the unbearably gentle fingers tracing patterns into the nape of your neck. You don't want to. You don't think you possibly could.

"With the blowdryer." You nod, turning in place to face him, the countertop digging into the small of your back. Nikto's arm doesn't leave its spot on your neck. He only brings his thumb up to trace that spot where your jaw and ear meet which has you weak in the knees, blinking up at him with hazy, unseeing eyes.

He gives a little grunt of acknowledgement at your answer, leaving you blushing as he doesn't even try to hide his crystalline stare, eyes blue as the deepest, coldest of lakes. Drowning in him would be such a lovely way to go.

You don't even recognise the way you lean forward until you're practically nose to nose, fingers twitching at the bottom hem of his mask. Begging silently for access. The desperation you're feeling is nothing short of all encompassing. Tunnel vision. You haven't even realised the way your chest is tight with a held breath, your dignity barely hanging on by a thread.

When your hand is so gently pushed away, you feel that thread snap.

Or at least you think you do, until Nikto has you by the hips, hoisting you up onto the counter before rolling the worn cotton of his mask to the bridge of his cooked nose.

The moment his lips find yours, you drown. You let yourself sink into the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his hands, the tide that refuses to stop from pulling you to him. The eagerness with which you kiss him back fills Nikto with an odd sense of pride, and the little mewl he manages to pull from your throat when his fingers curl coaxingly around the back of your neck turns him on. A lot.

You melt under his attention like butter in a pan, purring with his every touch like a kitten in a sunny spot. You're filled with nothing short of pure bliss, and you're convinced that Nikto is the only man to have ever provided you with such a feeling. Your every emotion has spilled out onto the floor, and Nikto laps it up like a man starved.

You're a mess of lips and tongues, cherry lipgloss smeared down his chin, legs hooking around his waist as your hands grip the back of his mask. Vaguely, you can feel one of his hands just above the hem of your skirt, fingers digging in to the meat of your thigh. You'd be thankful for any souvenir of this moment, bruise or not.

The sound of your ragged pants fill your tiny kitchen, his nose brushing against your earlobe as he crouches slightly to turn his attention onto your neck. The way you tip back your head against the cupboards to give him more space doesn't go unpunished as he nips and licks and sucks exploratively, his hand still firm around your thigh.

Eventually, painfully, the lusty haze settled over your kitchen is broken as he pulls back for air, and you sit in a wordless daze on the counter.

It's impossible for your mind to wrap around what the fuck just happened, but it's trying, running at a mile a minute to catch up with your body and the situation at hand.

"Anyways," He shrugs, as though he hasn't just had you like putty in his palms. "I will pick you up tomorrow afternoon. We will go out. Do not wear stupid shoes, okay princess?"

You gawk silently at him, choking on your words like a fish out of water.

"Also, your fence is broken. I'll fix it."

The minute he's gone from your kitchen, having taken a bit of your heart with him like a thief in the night, you're slumping back against the counter with a sigh of sheer girlish infatuation. "Wait - my shoes aren't stupid!" You yell uselessly into your already empty house.

PicNik unlocked 🤭 Sorry for the wait! I'm back now! I think! Maybe!

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #Nikto #cod nikto #Nikto x reader #nikto x y/n #nikto x f!reader #nikto x you #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #say goodnight n go

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moongreenlight · 10 months ago

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Nanny!Reader x John Price hnnnnngh

Tw/Cw: Cheating, mentions of drug use and abuse.

@ceilidho put the words ‘marriage kink’ and ‘ambiguous gray blob wife’ into my head and it has been eating away at my psyche for DAYS.

The Maddie from Euphoria of it all, honestly.

Getting the job through a Craigslist ad because it pays better than some of the office jobs you’d been perusing and it comes with free housing and a car to use? It’s a no brainer.

The kids are alright. Spoiled, but not entirely obnoxious. They’re school-age, so you really only deal with them for breakfast and a few hours after school. Their mother is absent. Some sort of philanthropist who travels for work and prefers to jet-set instead of sitting home. Their father is lovely. Truly picture perfect.

He only brought you on because he couldn’t step away from work, and he wouldn’t hear of sending his children to some daycare. Too impersonal. He prefers to get to know the person raising his cubs. He’s sweet like that.

John doesn’t expect much of you. Decently tidy house. Well-tended kin. A pot of coffee in the morning before he’s off to work, and a hot supper if he’s home late.

Leaves you to your own devices while the kids are at school. What’s his is yours. At first, you mainly stuck to your quarters and the living room, but after so long, you got a little lax.

Started wandering the house. Awfully fucking big for a philanthropist and a military man with three kids, but you’re not one to speculate. You try out the hot tub. The jacuzzi bath in the primary en-suite bathroom. The home gym in the basement.

Even that gets boring after some time. Too routine. So you get adventurous. Get your paws on the mother's medicine cabinet. Take a cocktail of her nearly expired prescriptions and take a few hours to yourself in the bath.

You must have fallen asleep, because the snap of a door closing makes you jerk your head up off the cold rim of the tub.

"Hello?" You're trying to figure out who exactly would be home. Scrambling to yank the plug out of the drain with one hand and track down your phone with the other. Suddenly very worried you slept through school pickup.

But when your pruny fingers finally swatted at the screen hard enough, you were grateful to see you'd only really dozed off for twenty minutes or so. Still no response even though you were fairly certain you heard the door come from somewhere upstairs with you.

"Someone home?"

The drain was loud. A dead giveaway of your neglecting your job. Gargling as it sucked away the evidence of your lavender-scented bath. What's worse? You'd forgotten a towel. Mind fogged by some desperate housewives-adjacent combination of stimulants and muscle relaxers.

You nudged the bathroom door open with a dripping wet toe, poked your head out to see what was going on. Seeing nobody, you decided that maybe you were just hearing things. Just the house settling.

So you inched forward, cringing at the trail of wet footprints you were leaving on the carpet of John's bedroom floor. You made a mental note to tidy those somehow before you went to get the kids. It wasn't until you were out on the walk over the living room that you heard someone clearing their throat in the kitchen.

It made you whirl your head around, scrambling to cover your modesty as best you could. Maybe it was a contractor? John had a bad habit of not reminding you that his buddies were coming over to do some project or another.

"That how you dress when you've got the place to yourself?"

You wouldn't be so lucky.

"J-John?"

A chuff from just beyond the wall downstairs. Strategically positioning himself where he could see, but wouldn't be seen.

"I-I didn't know you'd be home. God- I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure if it was better to run to your room or stay where you were. This was uncharted waters, after all.

A tsk, like he was sucking his teeth to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.

"In my room?"

Your mouth is painfully dry. You can't even manage to swallow.

"I'm so sorry, John. So sorry."

"Why don't you dry off and then we'll chat?"

#and then they FUCK. okay are you guys happy? jesus christ #sephspeaks #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader

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sugarsnappeases · 1 month ago

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i need to know what u think about jily

hi....... the only way that jily interests me is A) when they try so so hard to make things work for years but ultimately decide they need to go their separate ways or B) when one or both of them dies, like in canon but also esp. when lily kills james and maybe harry too <33

in this essay, i will discuss option A but if you want there is MUCH to discuss for option B........

for me. jily is like. james who is in love with the idealised version of lily that he created when he was like eleven and decided that she was going to be the love of his life and they were going to have their happily ever after forever and ever amen. the lily he loves is one he made up over years of pining and one that ultimately does not exist. lily, similarly, isn't so much in love with james but with what he represents and what that means for her. he's what everyone expects, a good, well-off man who can provide and care for her and who has been loudly declaring his love for her for years. he's something solid and the inevitable next step in her life and their relationship is a kind of wartime whirlwind spurred on by the feeling that maybe they're running out of time (they are) and by the fact that as far as everyone is concerned, they're perfect for each other.

i think a lot about them during those long months in hiding, just them and baby harry and the realisation that maybe they don't actually know each other all that well or have anything to say to each other or all that much in common. they've never really spent a lot of time one-on-one before. i imagine those months as very quiet and very lonely and filled with a lot of revelations about their relationship that they tell themselves they'll deal w when the war is over. obvs in canon that never happens.

in a non-canon context, i think they're both incredibly stubborn, and convinced that they're right for each other and this is the life they want, and, without the isolation that arose from their specific war-time circumstances, it would take them a long time to realise that their marriage is built on the foundation of fundamentally failing to understand and see each other for who they are. and even when they do realise this, it takes a long time for either of them to do anything about it bc, like i said, stubborn, but also. terrified of what it means if the one thing that's always felt certain and inevitable, is falling to pieces around them. they're scared of those uncharted waters, and also a little embarrassed, and also entirely horrified at what's become of them. they're clinging to the broken pieces of the façade that was their relationship.

i think this is also a very internal thing, in terms of like each of them internally, but also mainly in terms of the breakdown of their marriage mostly taking place behind closed doors, in their house, where it's just the two of them (and baby harry) and there's no one to perform in front of. and they argue and they cry and they try to hold things together and eventually they both come to the realisation that they can't do it anymore, no matter how scary and unknown whatever comes next is, and quietly go through the process of a divorce. their relationship begins with bright swirling colours and loud glittering celebration and a kind of manufactured joy and ends with a messy kind of honesty, and closure even if i kinda think they'll never fully understand each other, and horror & guilt & anger & fear about the time wasted and the times to come...... so.........

#so in conclusion they're very interesting to me <3 #all the art in the moodboard part is by malcom t. liepke btw. i think it's so them #jily #asks <3 #thank you very much for asking!!! i hope this more or less makes sense and isn't just deranged rambling #james #lily #kara’s moodboards

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

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Hi author first of wanted to say I love your work !

I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't feel free to delete this 💛

Modern spy Aemond x naive reader [ Aemond meets her when he's on a mission and becomes obsessed with her how can someone be so sweet and innocent !? He just has to have her also baby trapping and smut if you're comfortable writing it ]

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

pairing: modern spy!aemond targaryen x naive!reader

warnings: explicit language. stalking. very much nsfw smut. once again, aemond is an obsessive and pussywhipped little bitch with zero thoughts within his pretty knocker. manipulation. innocence kink. breeding kink/baby trapping at the end.

notes: hi, yes, this is me coursing through uncharted and absolutely fucking rough waters in some attempt to spice up my usual smut writing style

(aka me practicing for the next chapter of my modern series)

masterlist

A career life built solely around espionage (or a sort of black shadow warfare mixed with cold combat) came dirty, bloody, and uncertain.

Or, at least, that was what Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen would tell himself on the daily, in some attempt at justifying the ends to the means. Really, this entire situation could have been a lot worse, he thought- after all, the lives of countless innocent civilians could have been caught within his crosshairs. He hated when that happened; it was always so messy, and came with heavy and boring paperwork.

However, that was not the case this time, thankfully.

It was only one innocent civilian in his hands, and she was still safe and sound.

Aemond had never meant to stick around the city for so long, having other missions queued up after this one, but fuck…you were perfect. Godsent, the prettiest and most delicious slice of heaven above, and he did not consider himself a godly man, nowhere near in the slightest. The gods loathed his type, he knew, and never hesitated in casting them all down to the pits of hell.

But you…

He had met you during the mission, while stuck undercover at some random little café on the corner street. The boss sent him to stake out some old-money and big-named crime mobster that was allegedly dealing weapons and various drugs under the noses of local law enforcement, a suspect on their “Most Wanted” board. And you- well, you were tucked away in a small booth, hunched over two thick college textbooks while multiple paper assignments laid strewed across the table top, so unaware of his presence sitting tables away on the other side of the room.

Gods, you were absolutely gorgeous, he thought. So fucking pretty, with those eyelashes and charm bracelet and focused look on your face. It made him forget all about his original mission. Fuck that, he has a new one now. And there was the cutest pout on your pink and glossy lips that made his cock harden, despite not having the faintest clue on what your name could be.

(That itself was no concern of his, he could find it out later in the evening. And he eventually did.)

You were there at the café the following day, and the day after that. Always with your head in those damn school books, his pretty and dutiful schoolgirl. The sight made him chuckle, and smile, and fill with the strongest urge to ruin you completely with his mouth, and fingers, and cock. On the fifth day, he finally decided to step up to your table, interrupting your usual study schedule with a shy smile and your favorite drink in hand, as well as a chocolate chip cookie.

“I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, miss,” he said, feigning bashfulness, “but I’ve seen you around everyday for this past week and thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being friends? I’m new in town, actually…and- well, I don’t know a lot of people around here…” he added, watching your pretty eyes widen.

And, fuck, your lips were glossy again, and he stood there (like a complete idiot) wondering what flavor they could possibly taste like.

Cherries?

Strawberries? Blueberries?

Maybe mimosa or peppermint patties?

“Oh, well, of course! I don’t mind whatsoever,” you replied cheerfully, rousing butterflies in Aemond’s stomach. “I’d be happy to be your friend,” and you patted at the spot next to yours, slugging away your tote bag and books so that he could sit down, and you could introduce yourself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aemond became your friend, first. The easiest way to manipulate your unsuspecting victims? Through trust and friendships, per the teachings of his old childhood mentors back at the academy. Throughout the next month, he bought you hot chocolate and matcha tea lattes, joined you in quick lunch dates, insisted on driving you to your college classes, and went with you to the little bookstores scattered across the city. It was fun…and torturous- utter torment and near physical agony- because all he wanted to do was fuck your pretty pussy until you could no longer remember your name and your cunt was to the shape of his own cock.

He would sit beside you in the café booth, listening as you drone on and on about your favorite, most passionate subjects, all while trying to desperately hide the boner in his jeans and rid his mind of such dirty thoughts and fantasies. There was no use, though. Aemond was fucked, too addicted and obsessed.

He wanted you, now and forever.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that you had not the smallest clue of what you were doing to him. You were just his sweet companion, his dear friend, too innocent and naïve to both the world and the waking beast deep within him.

He often followed you back home, to that tiny apartment near the college. Aemond swore it was because he wanted to make sure you were safe and protected from any of his enemies, anyone daring to steal you away from him, but he knew it was more due to the chances of seeing you undress and shower and decide which nightie you would wear to bed. And, sometimes, he got treated to his sweet girl trying to touch herself. It was so cute, so endearing, to watch you slip a hand between your thighs only to pause because you had no idea of what to do, and how to fuck your own fingers inside your cunt until you came.

Poor, sweet girl of mine, Aemond shook his head, tutting. Alone and in need.

How could someone so pretty, such a fucking cock-tease, be so innocent and untouched, so stupid and unknowing to everything sexual?

It did not make any sense to him.

Maybe you were made for him, and only him, and this was the gods’ gentle way of telling him to change his ways before it was too late. Leave behind this career of his, wash away all the red staining his ledger and hang up his callsign, all so he can start a family with you. The family he needs, the one he deserves.

Yes, he thought, that makes more sense. You need him the same way he needs you.

And, really, who was he to ignore the gods above? Aemond himself was no godly man, it was not in the nature of a spy like him- but for you, perhaps the fates might allow it.

Two months later, after a dinner date, Aemond has you pressed against your apartment’s door, his mouth frantically devouring yours in a fervent and wet kiss. It has been so long, so torturous, weeks after weeks of constant late-night jerking off to your pretty pictures and those blue-laced panties he managed to slip from your bedroom that one afternoon and pretending that all he wants to be is your friend.

You are so beautiful, so stunning, especially within this very moment, chest heaving out heavy breaths while you peer up at him as if he is a god.

He grabs at your face, a rough grip on your chin. “Tell me you want it tonight,” he demands, his lips near your ear. You shiver and clutch at his arms, so close to melting into nothing but putty in his hands. “Want what, Aemond?” you ask innocently, batting your dark eyelashes up at him. Fucking cock-tease. He chuckles while trailing light kisses along your jawline and down your neckline, mouthing at your nape and clavicle. You mewl at the feeling. “Please- please, don’t stop…”

“Do my kisses feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, tangling your fingers within his silver hair, “it feels amazing.”

He smirks. “It will feel a whole lot better in a little while, I promise you, sweet girl. But I need to ask…do you trust me?” You nod frantically, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Of course, Aemond. You are my dearest friend! I trust no one more than you.” Aemond just laughs at your words, yearning so badly to tell you that- by the end of the night- your cute ass will no longer be ‘just his friend’ but something much more, definitely.

But where is the fun in that?

“Good, good. Just relax and enjoy everything, okay?”

Aemond then pushes you back against the door, quickly slipping off the pretty floral top you wore and groaning at how your lacy bra cupped your breasts perfectly. Where have you been all my life? He thinks while snaking his hands around your back to unhook your brace and toss it somewhere over his shoulder, too busy salivating over your free and ample breasts and perky nipples.

“Fuck, look at you…so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles, kneading at your breasts. You stiffen, flushing under his heavy gaze before moving to cover yourself up, feeling a little self-conscious. Aemond shakes his head, gently tugging your hands back to your side. “No, don’t you dare cover yourself up, baby. Not in front of me.” His fingers pinch your nipple, cause your back to arch. “I’ll never understand why no one has ever devoured this pretty body. Gods, look at these tits. You’re so beautiful, baby, a fucking wet dream come true. Mmm, yeah, bet they’ll taste delicious,” and he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

You’re delicious here, and Aemond knows you will be even more down there. His poor cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it is weeping, too impatient and irritated and ready to ruin you. His hand slides down your belly to rest on your hipbones and thighs, fingers ghosting around your panties.

“Ohhh…” you gasp out, biting at your bottom lips when his hand slips in.

“Fuuckk,” he drawls out against your breast, thrusting a finger into your wet cunt. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet down here. Absolutely soaking, poor baby.” Aemond strokes your slit a few times before rubbing your clit with his thumb, hearing the way you whine and shake at his actions. “I can’t wait to be inside you, fucking you till all you can think about is me.” He continues his thrusting, watching how your pretty face scrunches in sheer pleasure.

“Are you enjoying this, baby?” he asks, humming. “Do you want me down there tongue-fucking you? Hmm? Oh, wait, my sincere apologies, pretty girl, you probably don’t even know what that means.”

You moan, loud and high-pitched, teeth still chewing on your bottom lip. At your silence, he spanks your ass, causing you to lurch up with a massive gasp. “Use your fucking words, sweetheart. I don’t care for silence, especially from you.”

The more you remain quiet, he thinks, the more spanks you’ll receive.

Eventually, you fling your head back, bumping it against the door. “Okay, yes! Please! Please, Aemond…!”

Grinning, Aemond stands up and draws his lips back to your ear, saying slowly, “Spread those legs then, baby girl, right now.” When you do so, he sinks down to his knees, both hands gently clutching your thighs, “Yeah, that is a good girl. My pretty, good girl of mine.” He moves his face to the front of your pussy, “Can you feel my breath against this pretty clit? Are you waiting for me to devour this pussy? Tongue-fuck you until you’re a stupid little mess? Tell me, baby.”

He then blows against your wetness, ignoring how you jolt hard at the feel. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” he adds before slinging a leg over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” you whine, jerking your hips up against his face. Aemond slaps your asscheeks hard- once, twice, three, four times. “Beg, my pretty baby. C’mon, I know you can do it. Beg for my tongue, beg like you mean it, you stupid and horny little slut.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you whimper. “Don’t be mean to me…” you whisper, trying to blink away tears.

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that, because this is your first time, I would be nice? My sweet summer girl, you teased me enough these past several months, and I’m done playing nice. Now, tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to claim this pussy as mine.”

Your wanton cries are everything he needs in this life, he soon realizes. If he can spend the rest of his days with his face buried deep between your thighs, he swears he’ll die a happy and satisfied man. The way his name glides off your tongue is incredibly, completely wonderful, and his mind fills with various fantasies and all the positions he will soon have you in, helpless and dripping like a whore in heat.

His pretty whore, forever and always.

“Fuck, baby, who am I to deny you such?” Aemond buries his face between your trembling thighs, inhaling your mouth-watering scent one final time before slipping his tongue inside your wet folds. “You taste so fucking good, baby- shit, you’re leaking all over my face,” he moans amid long licks, fucking you both with his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, gods! Oh- oh- oh…!” You shriek, both legs buckling as your hands clench into tight fists. All of your little moans and whimpers, those pathetic pleas and begs, they all send more blood rushing to his cock. You don’t recognize the early grave you’re digging at, too overtaken by the pleasure.

“So fucking tight against my fingers. How the hell will you take my cock, baby? Fuck, I’m going to destroy you.”

You moan again, in such a loud and lustful cry that causes his resolve to only weaken faster.

“Oh! Oh, Aemond, this feels so good! Please- please, don’t ever stop,” you wail, fat tears gushing down your cheeks. This pleasure, it is a feeling like nothing before, not even coming close to those few times you made some sad and futile attempt to touch yourself, too confused on how to deal with those strange tummy butterflies that seemingly hatched from their cocoons the day you meant Aemond.

How thankful you are that you met him.

Your body squirms every couple seconds, only to wince when he spanks your ass hard again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aemond hisses without venom. He is too much in love with you for poison. “Do you wish for your neighbors to know that I’m fucking you right now? What would they think? The pretty and sweet girl that lives here, too innocent and naïve for this damn world, letting a man eat her out like a whore.”

You shake your head again, eyes puffy and red from all the tears. “N-no, Aemond…” you stutter out.

Aemond pauses his fingers, now curious to see how far he could go with this new type of torture. But it is not long, though, before you buckle against his hand, your bruised and swollen chest pushing up with stiffened nipples. And your body, it soon tightens as your flustered face screws up in that telltale sign that you are only seconds away from cumming. The scene is beautiful, very much so, and he feels pride that it is all from his own doing.

Yet he drags himself back up on his feet, removing his fingers from your cunt before you could cum. Perhaps it is a bit too cruel on his part, but Aemond could care less; he wants you to cum on his cock for your first time.

There will be many more times of this, he wants to reassure you. He doesn’t, though.

You’ll find out on your own time.

You gaze at him through bleak and narrowed eyes as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his ankles. “You poor, poor little thing,” he tuts, running a gentle hand through your damp hair, “-are you tired? You look tired, but from what? You didn’t even cum once!” He pats your cheek, “Don’t worry, my sweet girl, you’re about to. Can’t tell you how many times, but it’ll be a lot.”

And Aemond does not wait for your response, instead snatching your hand and pressing it against his boxers. “Can you feel that, baby? That is my cock. Can you feel how hard it is? You did this, you made me so fucking hard that it hurts.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “Now, that is not very nice, is it? No, no, no it is not. I thought you were a sweetheart…” He shoves your hand back, ignoring the small tears that gather in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, wiping them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Aemond! Please don’t be mad at me…please, how can I help you? I’ll do anything,” you pout as you watch him slip down his boxers. Your teary eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and your breath hitches. It is so sexy to him, eating away at the little self-control he is trying to maintain.

You’re a virgin, he reminds himself. Soft and easy, my baby deserves that.

“Shhh, baby,” Aemond rasps out, cupping your face within his hand. He kisses your nose, cheeks, and forehead before finding your lips. “I’m not mad, really, my sweet girl. I know you meant no harm, you’re too sweet and good for that,” and he holds your face against him while readying to fuck you with his cock. He can feel your short pants, the little breaths you take, and how you shudder whenever his clammy skin meets yours.

“Relax your body, baby girl, don’t tense up. It will hurt less…good girl, that’s my good girl.”

Nice and slow, he chants as he slowly sinks into your cunt, groaning at the tightness, slow and nice. You whimper, eyes rolling back as begins his thrusts, slow and easy. I’m a gentleman.

Mother made me promise to be a gentleman.

I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman.

But the look you are giving him, with your lips pink and puffy from the shit ton of kisses and bites, and the way your pussy clenches around his cock…it is causing him to forget all about how his mother indeed made him promise to be nothing short but a gentleman.

You’re too pretty for him not to devour, and…well, were you not made for him? The gods created you with the purpose of him eventually finding and caring for you, the way it should’ve always been- the way it will be for now on. His one good eye (the one those stupid bastards left alone back at the academy) watches as you shake and quiver and mewl out the sweetest and yummiest little moans.

The way you are right now, you’re just begging to be made into a new mother, and his mind goes insane at the sudden image of you heavy with his children, huffy and sore and always exhausted. It is delicious to think about. Aemond- truthfully- never really thought about kids, constantly busy with the espionage lifestyle and the back-to-back missions, but you…oh, he knows that, after tonight, you’ll have no choice but to remain by his side as the baby grows, needing him to protect and provide and shower you with love and affection.

He’ll be the best husband and father, and you his good girl- his precious slice of normality.

The way it should be, the way it will be.

It is half a year later that Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen finally connects back with his boss through a phone call.

Before that, he dropped off the grid, returning no calls and messages and signals, leaving everyone behind at the headquarters confused, concerned, and scratching their heads as to why their finest agent suddenly vanished without a trace.

He was not dead- they knew that. He was just…gone.

“What happened, agent?” The director asks, fiddling with his pen while another agent of his attempts to get some kind of reading on him. No luck; Aemond made himself untraceable. “Are you hurt, Aemond? Did someone threaten you? You left after I assigned you that mobster and- well, we assumed the worst, son.”

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head. “No, boss, do not worry about me," he says, "I’m good. Very good, in fact, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, one might say.”

He leans against the doorway, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you flip through a baby store catalog and marvel at all the products they have for sale- the finest baby strollers, a variety of cribs, bassinets, and swing sets, and the cutest little animal plushies and clothing.

“Frankly, boss, I just grew tired of the spy life.”

“Is that so? And pray tell what you are now, Aemond One Eye.”

He smiles, eyeing your baby bump and how you are utterly glowing. “I’m a family man.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #request #vic writes 🧸

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holllandtrash · 1 year ago

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omg i need a full blurb of dts content lol (i sent the original ask btw)

also i’m not sure if ur still gonna continue the lover series but i can totally see this as part of afterglow! like the whole “put you in jail for something you didn’t do” thing with lando getting mad at little leclerc over carlos but she didn’t technically do anything and lando realizing he blew things out of proportion and that it’s all in his head

HONESTLY I was half done the afterglow chapter and it was about this like carlos and y/n but not DTS related so I think I might try to fix it up and include DTS because like..it’s almost too perfect?

anyway so here's a snippet of the original afterglow chapter that will be rewritten bc of this DTS idea (love u anon)

“He’s not here,” you told Carlos, still looking around because it wouldn’t be unlike Lando to jump up out of nowhere. Carlos lingered in the doorway, peeking his head into the room but he was just as confused as you were.

“Lobby?” Carlos suggested, but he didn’t recall seeing him chatting away with team members.

“Maybe?” You shrugged. “In the bar? But he wouldn’t drink the night before a race.”

Carlos nodded his head in the direction of the elevator, suggesting they might as well go take a look. The concern you felt was obvious and to try and provide a bit of comfort, Carlos dropped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you against his side as you walked.

“He probably just stepped out,” he tried to provide an answer for Lando’s sudden ghosting.

“But it’s not like him to just keep ignoring me.”

Carlos pressed the button to call the elevator, “He’ll show up and say that his phone died.”

“Or that he left it in the paddock somewhere,” you snorted, remembering the few times Lando did in fact leave his phone in the garage or motorhome. He was forgetful, you knew that, but something seemed off this time. “I just hope he’s okay.”

And speak of the devil.

The elevator doors opened and Lando stood on the other side of them. With your hand outstretched towards him you were able to take a breath of relief, but if anything you had more questions than answers as his phone was visibly gripped between his fingers.

“Where were you?” You asked, sounding more worried than annoyed.

Lando eyed Carlos’ arm around you and maybe it was the slight twitch of his eyebrows or the way his jaw tensed as he stepped out of the elevator, but Carlos got the hint and dropped his arm back to his side. He even put some space between your bodies, knowing Lando wasn’t the biggest fan of your friendship.

Instead of answering you though, Lando stayed silent and walked right on by, muttering something under his breath about how he was even shocked you noticed he was gone.

“Hey,” you snapped, not about to deal with his attitude. Lando stopped walking and just by the movement of his shoulders you could tell he was taking a breath to calm himself down. You knew his mannerisms, you knew something was bothering him.

He turned around, his gaze going straight to Carlos first before he turned his attention to you, “I was talking to my team and then I went and got a new room.”

That didn’t account for the handful of calls he purposely ignored, but you decided not to pick that battle. “What do you mean a new room? What’s wrong with the one we have?”

“I need one for myself tonight,” Lando stated, monotone and distant. This wasn’t the Lando you knew.

“Why do you need your own room?”

He shrugged. Shrugged. “Not feeling too well. Would rather just get a good sleep by myself.”

You stepped forward while Carlos cautiously stayed off to the side. Still though, you noticed the way Lando kept eyeing the older driver.

“Lando-”

“I’m going to bed,” he cut you off promptly. “I’ve just got to grab a few things from your room first.”

Your room, he said. Not ours.

This was new territory, uncharted waters. It felt as though you were five words away from this conversation turning into a fight, and you don’t even know what the catalyst was.

The last thing you wanted was to argue in the hallway of a hotel, so you decided not to push, worried that the more you said or the more questions you asked would only lead to exactly what you didn’t want.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess,” was the only thing you could offer. You expected Lando to at least nod or agree. You wanted him to tell you he just had to sleep off whatever it was he was feeling.

You didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth, that’s for sure.

“I think you should probably stay in the Ferrari garage tomorrow.”

He was joking. He had to be joking, right? You laughed in response because what else could you do? You couldn't rely on your typical eye roll to get through to him so you joked in response, “Okay what is going on? Are you breaking up with me?”

Even Carlos snickered at that, knowing there was no serious intent behind the question.

But Lando didn’t say anything. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t look away, he just stared at you, lips pressed into a thin line like he was fighting with himself, like he knew what to say but didn’t know if the words would destroy you if they were spoken aloud.

Regardless, the silence was loud enough.

You were only a few feet apart but as you stood in the hallway you felt as though you were miles away from Lando, miles away from the person you loved. The funny thing about it was, your mind was still registering all of this as a joke so there was no pain in your chest. Your heart didn’t sink to the pit of your stomach. Your world wasn’t crumbling to the ground beneath your feet.

You just felt distant, so far removed from this conversation that it didn’t seem real.

It couldn’t be real.

Carlos stepped forward, hand going to your back for support but you didn’t need it. You just needed to figure out if this was truly what Lando wanted and if it was, the next question was why.

Lando offered no explanation. To make things worse, he started to back up and head to the room. His steps were slow, maybe waiting for you to turn around first but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t process any of this, you were frozen in time and place right there in this fucking hallway.

So Lando turned around, not even giving you the courtesy of a last look before he unlocked the hotel room and stepped inside. The door swinging back on its hinges echoed through the hallway but it wasn’t as deafening as the desperate breath passing through your lips. The shaky inhale as it slowly started to sink in. You weren’t hurt, you weren’t broken, you were numb.

Carlos was saying something but none of it was getting through to you. You shook his hand off of you when you realised Lando wasn’t coming back out and you muttered a single name before heading to the elevator, your mind on autopilot.

“Charles.”

Your older brother was expecting a quiet night before the race. He put on a movie, he wanted to relax, probably go to bed early and be well rested for tomorrow.

But when his phone chimed and he read the message from Carlos that said, Lando broke up with y/n, he had about twelve seconds to figure out if it was a joke or not because there was a knock on the door shortly after.

He pulled it open and without even saying a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Charles. The tears started to fall in the elevator, but it wasn’t until Charles hugged you back, muttering something in French about how he was going to end Lando’s life, did it actually sink in.

Lando broke up with you.

Charles could have said a lot of things. He could have said I told you so. He could have reminded you that dating a driver was the stupidest decision you made. He could have turned you away, not wanting to be the first person you came crying to because he was the last person who approved of your relationship anyway.

But he kept those thoughts to himself and he held you tightly.

#6 to 1 series #6 to 1

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wilcze-kudly · 8 months ago

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If worked for the team who made Avatar TloK. How would you rewrite TloK?

To be completely honest, rewriting tlok wouldn't fix all it's issues. Tlok just needed to have longer seasons, an actually established amount of seasons so they weren't pressured to make every single season a complete story for fear of not getting more time.

But let's say, hypothetically that I murdered mr Crabs or whoever is in charge of Nickelodeon and removed any studio meddling from the show.

My perfect world would include:

More filler episodes that focus on a singular character. Think Sokka's Master or the Painted Lady. The Krew are all fascinating characters with a lot of potential, however, due to the runtime of the show, their storylines are rushed... or completely nonexistent. Give me more details of Mako and Bolin's childhood. Show me emore of Asami struggling with her father's arrest.

I'd try to cut down on the westernisation of the show. I can see why these foreign aspects slipped in, since the closer the Avatarverse inches to our modern times, the more blurred the lines become. At least to my whiteass. I'd try to lean towards silkpunk, rather than the much more west based steampunk. It would be a fascinating endeavour to imagine what a world with mostly eastern influences would look like.

I'd make Vaatu the overarching villain/final boss of the story... it would require a bit of moving around of the timeline but I think I'd structure it as: Red Lotus> Kuvira> Amon> Vaatu. However I'd blur the timeline more. Make Amon a background threat in the eariler seasons, only for him to rise in popularity and power after people see what benders like Kuvira are capable of, for example.

This would also allow for certain villains to become redeemed or at least helpful in some way, later on. Mayhaps Amon and Kuvira team with the Krew to defeat Vaatu in some way.

Also, instead of destroying Vaatu completely, I'm leaning towards Korra absorbing him, in a way. Yes Vaatu is a dark spirit, but 'darker' urges are necessary for humans' survival and happiness. Korra embodies the duality of man very well. I think it would be a fascinating idea to see the Avatar become the embodiment of both light and darkness.

In general, making Vaatu and Raava more morally ambiguous, rather than the simple good spirit/bad spirit thing they had in the og show would be a fascinating concept.

I'd do my best to pull away from the show's original centerist narrative. Have Korra learn from the villains and make active changes to the world, showing her growth as an Avatar and person. Perhaps she's reluctant to see the Red Lotus' point of view at the beginning of the show, but sympathises with Amon at the tail end of the story.

Make the entire Krew queer. And talk about queerness more, in general. Have the characters have open conversations about queerness in their respective enviornments and cultures. Tlok already has a very queer undertone to it, even before korrasami became canon, but touching on this subject more overtly would provide great opportunity for characterisation and worldbuilding.

Have the story span several years. Watch the Krew grow up. Tlok works very well as a coming of age story even in its original form. Have Vaatu and his darkness and chaos symbolise the uncharted waters of maturity at the end of teenagedom. This especially works if Korra merges or accepts him like i suggested.

There... that's some basics. I think that most of my criticisms of the show could mostly be solved if the studio wasn't being a bitch but well. We can't have nice things, can we?

I took a while to answer this ask because it was genuinely such an interesting, but overwhelming question.

Also now I have wayy too many ideas about a potential tlok rewrite, so feel free to ask me about that if you want to hear me ramble.

#korra #bolin #mako #asami sato #vaatu #raava #amon #kuvira #red lotus #legend of korra #avatar #tlok #the legend of korra #avatar the legend of korra #atlok #lok

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uzumaki-rebellion · 3 months ago

Text

"Tethered to You" Chapter 3

Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm

We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable

Oh well, the devil makes us sin

But we like it when we're spinning in his grip

Love is like a sin, my love

For the ones that feel it the most

Look at her with her eyes like a flame

She will love you like a fly will never love you again"

Massive Attack – "Paradise Circus"

Qimir guided the sleek Exile II onto an obsidian wave-cut platform in the middle of the night off the coast of his own personal island retreat. The tide was out and the uneven rocky land bridge that led to his secret cave was visible by starlight. He'd be able to carry Osha into his hideaway right away. She would have to get acclimated quickly on her own before he had to fly out again to meet his Master in person for a few days. On his return, he would begin her training. Sitting in the cockpit he looked at his hands. They quivered with the overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

He found his true acolyte.

Closing his eyes, he rested his body and mind, becoming calm enough to luxuriate in the winning of Osha's trust to come with him. The inhospitable cold outside seeped into the starship. He flexed his fingers to keep them warm. Nights by the sea often brought a stinging pain, enough to split tender skin and make it bleed. He tapped a button on his display to keep heat inside Osha's cockpit for a few minutes longer. He needed time to decompress from the long flight.

Mae had been a failure.

Qimir had just been a means to an end for the other twin. She didn't look far beyond the killing of the four Jedi. Revenge was enough with her shortsightedness, and although she desired for him to be her true Master, Mae lacked the passion and follow-through to see the bigger picture: Destruction of all Jedi.

Osha? Well, she had the passion and inner will to do more damage than Mae could ever dream of. He flicked a switch to get a visual on Osha in the dual cockpit on the opposite side. She slept for the majority of the trip, mentally exhausted from her ordeal on Brendok. Once they broke away from the planet fleeing directly to his uncharted one using the hyperdrive, she shut down completely. He didn't speak to her or offer words of comfort. She had to eat her pain the way he had to a long, long, time ago. Betrayal was a hell of a thing to endure, but at least she didn't have to make peace with it. He would help her cultivate that pain into power. His hands, that were much older than they looked, finally stopped shaking from the adrenaline rush of securing a lifelong prize.

The moonless sky hid them against the icy black waters of the sea. A sharp whistling of the wind outside produced a soothing Aeolian tone against the protective cockpit canopy. From high above, the Exile II would look like a simple sea-stack on top of more black-gray slabs. The starship blended into the surroundings and they were safe for now. No doubt the Jedi would interrogate Mae and plot to use her to find them. He wasn't worried. His mind-wipe would keep the holier-than thou's scrambling back in the Jedi Grand Temple on Coruscant.

He glanced at Osha's sleeping image. Deep breathing. No eyelids moving with dreams.

The dark force was heavy in her. How many endless decades had he searched for his perfect one? He had traversed across the vastness of space and time, and now that he had her, the real work could begin. Training her to be his other half. He wanted the power of two and Osha would give it to him.

His dick almost got hard thinking of all the damage they would bring to the galaxy. Two orphans tossed away by the Jedi would become the architects of their destruction. He grinned reveling in the pleasure of the thought.

The tide began to turn back joined by the curtain of thick white fog creeping across the horizon. It would swallow the land bridge and them in an icy shroud if he didn't move soon. He shut the starship down completely and climbed out of the left side cockpit. His windswept hair became slightly wet from the spray of saltwater tossing foamy liquid across the rocks. Osha remained in her deep slumber. He carefully made his way to her side and popped open her cockpit canopy using the Force. Holding his right hand outstretched, he focused his power on Osha and lifted her with his mind. She floated like a limp ragdoll high into the air and he guided her down into his arms. He nestled her head gently in the crook of his neck. Her hair smelled like something sugary and sweet he remembered eating as a youngling on Coruscant. The sea already added its brakish scent to the damp locs that tickled his chin. She seemed almost weightless and felt tiny in his arms, but the power within that compact frame pulsed around her aura. He lowered his face to smell her hair once more.

She was his.

He would nurture her mentally back to health first before crafting the proper regimine for her training. Seawater sloshed across his inky black boots. His cape and body heat kept her warm while he marched across the wet rocky bridge toward his hidden abode.

The uncharted planet he lived on was mostly rocky terrain of chained islands with large veins of cortosis in some places that he mined for himself and turned into the metal to craft his helmet and gauntlet. Fortunately there was an abundance of food sources in the ocean and on land with plenty of fresh water to survive. Because it was uncharted, it became a safe pocket of refuge for others who didn't want to be found. Scattered across thousands of miles of archipelago were a few folks of ill repute, but everyone kept to themselves except for those occasions when they visited a rough-hewn set of humans who ran a modest bar/watering hole on the largest landmass on the planet. It was a place to gather intergalactic supplies and Intel discreetly. A place he would have to visit in a day or two.

His home was carved from a large rock mass near the sea. He claimed the abandoned property for himself two decades previous and his Master approved. He found the original owner dead and petrified like wood at the entrance as if it had been dead for centuries. Qimir fixed it up with modern fixtures turning it into a lab of sorts. Solitude and privacy was his and stepping through his front door, the interior lights automatically came on based on his biometrics.

The interior was chilly enough for him to see his breath as puffs of condensation vapor. He carried Osha to his full-sized bed. The top blanket was rumpled but the sheets were clean. He placed her on it and unfastened her boots. Her outer clothing would help keep her warm until he had the cave at a suitable temperature. He fumbled with her body to get her tucked under the covers without waking her. She curled into the fetal position. Pulling the covers over her shoulder he paused to watch her slumber.

Osha had delicate full features and still looked fierce in her sleep. He sat at the edge of the bed and let his eyes take in her relaxed state. She would sleep for a long time once her body fully settled into its new environment. He knew this. It would be a deep down in the bones sleep from shedding the weight of her past. He used his index finger to push back the front of her bangs to see her forehead. She didn't have the spiral pale marking on her forehead that Mae did. His finger lingered on her skin before touching one of her individual locs. Firm, yet soft, it felt like the thick yarn that made the heavy sweaters he wore during winter inside the cave. On his planet it was nearing fall. Luckily, Mae left enough clothing and grooming supplies behind that Osha could use until he went out for full supplies again. He bent down to sniff the scent of her hair once more and she stirred in her sleep. He froze, fearing she would wake up and find him hunched over her like some pervert. Distance. Give her space.

He moved away from the bed and shucked off his damp cape and outer layers, hanging them on a rack near the entrance. Untying his boots he scanned his living space for anything out of order. Scavengers often flew to the planet, but none dared to bother him in that area. At least not yet.

His cave smelled of salt, damp bedrock and sea foam. The tide brought in waves that crashed against the rocks below them. He would sleep pretty well himself once he made a pallet on the floor. First task was to make a fire and he grabbed wood and kindling from the stack against the wall where he prepared his meals. Tangled fishing nets waited for his mending on the floor in the corner. He'd need to fish and collect more food in the morning.

With a good amount of wood stacked next to the deep fire pit surrounded by heavy obsidian sandstone rocks that were great heat conductors, he built a fire . He layered the wood in a pyramid shape first, placing enough tinder at the top to make the fire last all night. Qimir stared at the tinder and it burst into flames. He glanced behind him. Osha still slept. He wondered if she already knew the power of pyrokenesis.

He stood near the fire in the middle of the cave to make sure it burned evenly. Light gray smoke rose up and out of the ventilation he made in the cave's roof. Holding his hands out, he warmed his palms and rotated his neck to knock out stiffness. He reached for some dried fragrant sea moss and tossed it on the fire. The scent of the sea rose up and gave him tranquility in the moment. Clarity.

He peeled off the rest of his clothes until he was naked and distributed them with his outer layers to dry near the fire. There was a chest full of clothing across from his bed in the back and he padded there barefoot on the clean earthen floor to retrieve soft beige trousers that always hung low on his hips. He pulled them on near the bed, keeping his eye on Osha as he tied the drawstrings. She'd rolled over onto her back with her hair in disarray across her cheek. The scent of sea moss finally reached the rear of the cave and so did the slow transfer of heat.

Qimir wandered over to his fresh water supply inside an ancient wooden barrel. He ladled a glass and the refreshing coolness pulled a groan of satisfaction from his throat. Exalted from his journey, he smiled as drops of water fell from his moist lips. He pulled a piece of seasoned jerky meat out from his dry food cabinet and settled on a bench in front of the fire with his front facing Osha. The plans running through his head for her wouldn't let him relax fully by the fire. How could he when the ultimate gift was in front of him? Secure inside a cave no one from her world would find.

"Oh-shaaa," he said softly into the fire.

She moaned in her sleep. He gazed at her form on the bed.

She had to consent to everything he wanted each step of the way. His seduction of her on the island before had been slow and deliberate. It helped that she was already physically attracted to him, but her fragile state would have her questioning every move he made from here on out. He was a master manipulator and could seduce anyone easily; her sister had been proof of that. But Osha? She was a woman who had been deceived to the core of her being. There was no way she would fully trust him even though she accepted his offer to train with him. Physical seduction wouldn't work on her the same way. He had to capture her mind first. It meant he was pushing her to do what he wanted, however nothing would stick unless she said yes to him. And yes to him again, and again…and again.

He steepled his fingers together and held them under his chin. How far could he push her? Would she buckle and run like Mae did? That would anger him. The longer she stayed in close proximity to him, the more potent their connection in the Force would be. Their bond would intertwine and grow stronger over time. He had to admit that it chilled and thrilled him to the bone to watch her burn all of her anger and grief and pure unadulterated rage into the cracked hilt of Sol's lightsaber, bleeding the kyber crystal into crimson fury. Chilled him even more when she force-choked her former Master and father-figure to death. She was sublime. Ripe for the plucking.

Now he had her.

He would mold her.

Teach her.

"Mae!"

Osha's shriek wrenched his eyes away from the crackling heat of the fire. She bolted up from her sleep and glanced around in fear.

"You're okay Osha," he said moving toward her slowly, "you've had a bad dream. You're safe. Mae will be fine."

Fiery eyes took him in and he knelt down next to the bed.

"We're safe on my island. In my home. You need rest…shh…lay back."

Red weepy eyes stared at him with so much anguish. Wracked with sobs, Osha flung herself on the opposite side of the bed and wept into the soft pillows within her grasp. Her entire body convulsed in agony and he couldn't allow her to suffer alone like that.

Qimir crawled onto the bed and spooned around her. She jabbed his chest with her elbow.

"Get away from me! Don't touch me…don't you touch me!"

Her voice cracked and she wailed, still flinging her arm back to cause him pain too. He stayed still and let her release the first wave of pain until she was spent and nearly lost her ability to speak from all the crying.

"You will use this, Osha. There is power in pain—"

"Shut up! Shut your mouth! I don't want to hear anything…I don't want to hear your voice!"

She held her body in a rigid ball and wept for an hour. He simply stayed next to her making sure she didn't hurt herself like he tried to do once. The fire heated the cave up and it appeared to settle Osha into warm comfort. He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. She didn't resist the touch, nor did she scream at him.

"It's not fair," she whimpered, "He took everything away from me and lied to my face for sixteen years. They took away the only people who ever truly loved me and my sister."

Her voice had a despondent tone he had never heard from her before. It sounded like giving up. Qimir wrapped a muscular arm across her waist and snuggled against Osha's back, pouring all of his warmth and strength into her.

"Sleep, Osha. I am here for you. Always. Remember that."

She cried softly through the night and he held her close, listening to her profound despair until she fell back into a pitiful sleep. The icy wind howled outside, but they were warm and cozy together.

He never left her side until the sun rose.

Chapter 4 HERE.

A.N.:

Look at me me posting a day ahead of my Friday Schedule! Enjoy!

#The Acolyte #Oshamir #Star Wars #Oshamir Fanfiction #Uzumaki Rebellion #Qimir #osha aniseya #osha x qimir

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rabioa · 3 months ago

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Un-Leashed Affections

Vox x Hellhound!Reader - Fluff - Gender Neutral

Vox doesn't go back on his promises. The leashes arrive, and he's more than happy to tease you with them. You trusted Vox with your life, but recently with all the new changes to his behavior, you were left lost in what he could do next. With new development into your relationship, you both reach uncharted waters of vulnerability and intimacy. Perhaps one day you'll gather the courage to say the L word?

TW: Unsexualized petplay(? Reader is a Hellhound so it comes with the territory?), Vox is called master, any Hazbin Hotel warnings

So, this is part 2 to Collar-ful Engravings. I went the more emotional and sappier route for this because I think the symbolism of the leash being new grounds for both of you is hella cute. Also I love slowburn and the development of Reader's and Vox's relationship. I know this may not be what others were expecting with leashes and stuff, but writing this made me happy so take it or leave it lol

You pressed the shiny buttons on the vending machine, receiving an overpriced bag of chips. You were in the mood for something salty after all. As you walked back you opened the snack and began to eat. As you approached the metal door it automatically opened, revealing Vox inside his penthouse.

Today was a rare day where both of you could relax for a bit. You made your way up to Vox, about to sit next to him when he grabbed your wrist, tugging you forward. You didn't resist, allowing him to make you neatly straddle him.

Your cheeks flushed at the intimate position. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other stubbornly behind him and out of view. His touch didn't help make you less flustered.

After he put a collar on you, he seemed to have grown a lot more touchy. Sure he was touchy then, but it felt more possessive and show-offy than anything. Now, it felt affectionate? Of course that was just you looking into things. There was no way he was genuinely being affectionate… right?

He called out your name, snapping you from his thoughts. You didn't even realize you were spiraling into a big pink mess. “Yes, sir?” You prompted. You didn't dare to eat your bag of chips, but you nervously traced the edges of the bag, making quiet crinkling noises.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered and you silently obeyed. You were nervous, not out of fear, but out of anticipation. You trusted Vox with your life, but recently with all the new changes to his behavior, you were left lost in what he could do next.

The hand on your hip began to travel, gently caressing random parts of your skin: your shoulder, side, cheek, and really wherever else he wanted. “Who's a good Hellhound? My perfect Hellhound.” he chuckled.

You mentally cursed yourself for how your tail wagged softly at the praise. You felt your collar adjust. He always liked toying with your collar. Some days he would trace his name on your collar as if signing his claim on you. Your ears twitched when you heard some metal click. His hands were still on your collar (since when did the second hand get there?) and he gently brushed against your neck, making your breath hitch feebly. His claws traced your skin gently. He was always so gentle with you, something you found absurd since you had literally torn people apart upon his command before. Now that life of bodyguarding seemed so far away.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. The first you noticed when you opened your eyes is he held a strip of leather in his hands. Your eyes followed the path of the leather until you realized belatedly that it was connected to you. Oh my. Your cheeks turned red. He leashed you.

“The leash finally came in. Look at that! It suits you perfectly, wouldn't you agree?” He complimented, casually tracing the neat seams in the leather.

You felt so embarrassed and flustered. You abandoned your bag of chips in favor of covering the bottom of your face with your paw and averting your gaze. You completely forgot he mentioned you'd get a leash too. The collar you could handle, in fact, you had seen plenty of Hellhounds with collars. The leash though? Much less common, at least in public.

“T-thank you, sir,” your voice was muffled by your hand.

He didn't seem to be having any of that. With a grin far too wide and smug, he tugged the leash, forcing you to lean closer into him and focus on his face once more. One of his hands abandoned the leash to pull your obstructive hand away. “Why so shy? You look amazing, dear,” he teased.

“It's- It's too nice for–” You were about to delve into another degrading monologue about yourself but couldn't even finish your sentence. He tugged the leash down, only allowing you to make a small yelp before your face pressed into his chest. His free hand threaded up to cradle your head, petting your ears.

He tutted. “Oh shush, none of that. I thought we talked about this. What did I say?” He admonished you, patting your head to emphasize his message.

You inhaled deeply; the comforting smell of fancy cologne and glass cleaner filled your senses; It was a reassuring smell. You sighed softly, allowing your tense body to relax. “That insulting myself is insulting you,” you muttered, your voice muffled.

He had given you the order to stop speaking so lowly of yourself, lecturing you for a long while one day. It was the only order you had trouble following.

“There we go! You see dear, confidence is key. Now give me a big smile and show off those pretty little canines.” He gently pried you out from his chest. You smiled at him, unable to hold back the laughter in your throat.

He chuckled with you before grabbing your abandoned snack. He fed you chip by chip. You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes as you reflected. Your life used to be a bleak and endless routine of labor and boredom. After Vox got you though, your life changed for the better. You got to see new places, see new demons, and eventually, you got to feel a life of luxury.

“Thank you, sir,” you spoke softly, “for everything. I'm so happy you're my master. It's the best thing that's happened in my life.” When the stream of chips stopped, you looked up at his face.

His eyes were wide, his mouth small as he looked at you. Everything was still in the room as he stared at you. Did you mess up? Maybe that was too much emotion. You hoped you didn’t fuck up. You couldn’t bear the idea of him not liking you.

Your ears adjusted, picking up the quietest sound of his internal fans humming faster. He didn't have a heartbeat, nor did he need to breathe, but his internal workings were ever so slightly audible when you focused.

He let out a soft laugh, the sound affectionate as he smiled at you, finally snapping out of his stunned state. One hand patted your head, petting you. “Yeah. I'm glad too. You are quite the asset,” he murmured. Despite the last sentence, he looked as soft as a cloud, gently holding you as his eyes revealed a plethora of sweetness. You felt immediate relief, realizing that he was just trying to figure out how to navigate these waters.

You burst into fits of giggles and he seemed puzzled at your reaction. “You make everything sound so capitalistic!” You teased him.

It took him a moment to figure out what you were referring to, but when he did he let out an indignant laugh. “You're so mean! We have a sappy moment and then you bully me. I should fry you for this!” He retorted, amused, tugging on your leash for good measure.

Eventually, the laughter calmed down. The both of you sat in silence; It was a bit awkward now. Straddling him meant you had to face him, even during the silence. You couldn't think of anything to fill the void and although you knew Vox would be able to pull out some bullshit small talk on you, you didn't want it right now.

That interaction was vulnerable, raw even. It was new territory for both of you. You didn't want to just brush it off with some small talk in the end. You slid off his lap, his eyes narrowing and his hand clenching the leash, ready to pull you in. It seemed he got very comfortable fast with the leash, much to your flustered dismay.

Your actions warranted no consequence though, since you sat beside him, laying down so your head rested on his lap. At least that way your head could face somewhere that isn't him. Without missing a beat his fingers brushed your hair, claws teasing your scalp.

He seemed content with the lull in conversation. You could hear internal motors running and gears turning as he processed the last five minutes. You amused yourself with the idea of a VoxTek logo gliding across his screen like a DvD screen saver. It would be pretty funny if his screen did that, but you doubted it.

You didn't dare look up at him to check though. There was some kind of feeling as if he needed to not be seen right now. That looking up at him would ruin the magic, would be something bad. It was just all silly little theories that the anxious voice in your head whispered. In truth, you believed that he was just thinking hard and that you needed to give him that space to think. He was seldom in silence after all.

Your blinks turned sluggish. Each blink lingered closed for longer and longer. To you, it was ironic, since earlier in the day you had so much energy and were so ready to take on the day. Perhaps it was time to turn in for the night (or was it day? You had no idea in this room). You internally blamed the energy crash on Vox making you stutter and flush like an idiot each time he gave you a gift.

“Hey, sir?” You called out gingerly.

There was a pause from him until he realized you wanted some kind of verbal affirmation that he heard. “Yes?”

You stayed silent for a beat, thinking. You honestly spoke without thinking. It was the definition of ‘I didn't expect to get this far’. What did you want to tell him? I think I love you? Please don't ever abandon me? I'm so happy you treat me so kindly, even if it's just to piss off your arch-nemesis?

“Good night.” The words were simple, definitely not living up to the build-up, but there would always be other days thought for you to lay your heart bare before him, for now you needed sleep.

#hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #vox #hazbin vox #vox fluff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox

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deadricslover · 1 year ago

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second time's a charm

here's my masterlist!

a/n: ^^^that's a gif btw idk why it's not playing for me. can u see it?

summary: your younger sister called recently to tell you she had found a boyfriend and she wanted you all as a family to meet him.

warnings: again, like the last post. the focus isn't on Bruce being your partner in this one...

pairings: fem!reader x bale!Bruce Wayne

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

Two weeks ago your younger sister, Anna called you up and told you that she got a boyfriend and wanted you to meet him. Of course you said yes, as big sister duty and to see who has your baby sister's heart. She knew when she asked that you would want to meet him, but why she really wanted you two to meet was because she needed your opinion and approval. As silly as it sounded, she wouldn't want to be with him if you didn't like him or thought she could do better as she valued your opinion ever so much, like any little sister would-- even though she's not so young anymore. You needed to be there though for different reasons, yes, you wanted to support Anna, but you also wanted to make sure things ran as smoothly as possible and not like when Bruce met your family. To be fair, then, it was uncharted waters and you didn't know what to expect. You want to prevent the invasive mother questions and protective dad mode from arising. Sure, a couple embarrassing stories would be fun, but as long as things didn't go overboard, you were good. You hadn't heard much about this boy only the things that Anna was willing to share when she called you late at night rambling about how their first date went and you could practically see her twirling her hair as if she was in a film.

"Is there a dress code for this sort of thing? Meeting your fiance's sister's boyfriend" Bruce asks from your shared bed while you root through the closet like a racoon in a bin trying to find the perfect fit for Bruce to wear. You felt like a mom picking out clothes for her child. You eventually find what you're looking for and throw it at him while replying

"Yes, not pyjamas. Now get changed"

"Yes, Mom" he says smiling looking for a reaction out of you

"Would you rather pick out an outfit for yourself?" you question, spinning back around to see him now standing up taking off his shirt

"no, you just always do such a good job"

"do you want me to change you too?" you ask, now bickering like an old couple

"you know, I wouldn't mind-" he starts

"tough, you're a grown man that should be able to change AND pick out his own clothes" you say cracking a little smile, despite your efforts to not let it show. You close the door before he had a chance to say something else and also so he didn't she the grin creeping up on your face. You go straight to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water because who knew finding clothes for Bruce to wear would be so hard. Not like you hadn't done it hundred times.

Time passes and you two leave to go to your childhood home. It was safe to say you were probably in for a stressful night, constantly listening to make sure your parents don't drift in to a conversation tat would make Anna or her boyfriend uncomfortable. You and Bruce both knew that. The drive to the house was normal, but Bruce could sense that you were slightly worried at the possibilities.

"there's no need to worry, my love. Anna and the new boy should be the nervous ones" He comforts rubbing your hand as much as he could while driving while driving.

"if I don't like him, it will really effect how Anna sees this guy. I just want it to go well. Of course I want to like him and even if I don't, I'm not sure whether to mention it to Anna or to keep it a secret, if I keep it to myself then I feel like she might ignore all the red flags and I don't want her to get hurt but if I do tell her then I will feel like the bad person and that she can't make her own decisions an-" Bruce cuts you off

"you're rambling. I understand you're worried but everything will be fine, I promise" he reassures you sweetly, glancing over to you sitting in the passenger seat. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his mouth to place it a little kiss into the back of it.

You step out of the car grabbing the last minute things that your dad asked you to pick up on the way here. Bruce meets you at your side and you walk to the door together, entering the house after a quick knock. You are met by your younger brother running up to the door grabbing onto you squeezing the life out his older sister.

You squat down to give him a proper embrace. "hi, big boy! you've grown so much"

"everyone's so excited to see you and mom is shouting at dad a lot" he innocently tells you. bless him for not knowing better.

"and we're here to fix that" you reply to your younger brother, max while getting up to say hi to everyone else. as you're walking away max runs up to Bruce and Bruce picks him up and they exchange greetings. Max looks up to Bruce so much, it's honestly so adorable.

someone that you do not yet recognise catches your attention and you soon realise that it must be the boy of the night, Anna's boyfriend who you still do not know the name of.

"hi, I'm Anna's older sister" you say to him offering your name also. He sticks out his hand for you to shake which catches you off guard but you accept the gesture no less.

"I'm Claude. I am with your sister" he says, a slight French accent flowing it's way to your ears.

"ooh where's that accent from" you inquire not 100% sure if that's an ok question to ask, but you did it anyways.

"my parents are french, my older siblings and I were all born in France and lived there until about eight years ago." he responds with a smile sending proud of his roots

"me and my fiance-- who is somewhere-- were hoping to go next year. any recommendations as to where is nice?" you ask trying to make conversation

he gives you multiple lovely places, explaining each is heaps of detail. you take each into account and make a mental note to check them out later on.

you spot your parents in the kitchen but more specifically, your mother hanging over your father's shoulder bickering with him, telling him that he is cutting the food wrong.

"mom, I don't think you can cut potatoes wrong." you call out catching her attention. she spins around and notices you and visibly sighs in relief.

"thank God you're here" she wraps you in an embrace while telling you how happy she is that you're here.

"everything will be fine. don't worry" you reassure her even though you aren't thinking the same thing at all.

"Anna is upstairs. she wanted me to send you up when you arrived. Where's Bruce?" she inquires looking around.

"with his shadow. I'll go up to her now" you say leaving. passing Bruce and Max on the way, telling him where you're going. You knock on her door and walk in when she says it's good for you to enter. she is sitting at her desk with a mirror propped against the wall touching up her hair. She glances at you in the mirror, puts down the tool and jumps up to run to you.

"I missed you." she tells you into your neck

"I missed you more. sorry I couldn't see you sooner." you answer, pulling back and sitting on her bed.

she sits down next to you and you start to ask her about the boy and teasing her about it and she gets all red and shy but it's so sweet. you've never been in this position before as you only have two younger siblings and Anna is the older of the pair. you remember when she was obsessing over the peeta from the hunger games when she was younger and now look at her. she is graduating soon and you are simply not ready for that. yes, you're not her mother but still, it's strange seeing her like this. You two talk for a little while more before you decide to finish off her hair for her while listening to some nostalgic music from your childhood together.

"he's downstairs. I feel bad leaving him but I need to look good and I'm kinda nervous" she says fiddling with her eyelashes.

"you do look good. And he is definitely not just dating you for your amazing looks, there's no need to worry" you inform her telling the utter truth

There is a knock on the door interrupting you two.

"sorry to interrupt, your mom sent me up. Claude and your family are waiting downstairs because dinner is ready" Bruce says popping in the door.

"oh sorry, we're on our way. just need to make sure Anna is feeling her best" you reply smiling at her in the mirror.

"he seems great, I was talking to him downstairs when max went away to get his new firetruck, that's the only time I got a word in with someone else" Bruce says showing how obsessed your brother is with your boyfriend.

"yeah I think so too. unless he comes out with some major criminal record" you tell her honestly but also glancing to Bruce to see his reaction, as batman doesn't have the best reputation with the cops.

"trust me, he doesn't. he's a good guy" Anna replies giggling a little bit.

"when I introduced myself first, he seemed so starstruck and he was stuttering and getting shy, it was really funny. but to be fair, if I saw George Clooney I would too" Bruce follows up with which makes you laugh and so does anna.

"yeah except, you're not George Clooney" you reply smiling a little bit.

"just hope we turn out like you two. I really like him" she follows up with.

"you want to get engaged or you really like him? they are two different things"

"you can't have both" Bruce replies with still standing in the doorframe.

a look of horror paints it's way onto her face and you quickly have to reassure her you were kidding. you turn off the curler wand start walking down the stairs, encouraging Anna to go first but she didn't want to.

you felt a little bad for Claude waiting by himself downstairs, especially because he doesn't know anyone. Bruce is different, he knows your family and max would keep him occupied anyways. Bruce sits down pulling out a chair for you next to him as he does so. Anna sits down next to Claude also and you all begin eating as everyone is super hungry. During the dinner you kept glancing to Claude to find him glancing at Bruce still starstruck and also did exactly as you said you would, you kept Anna from getting too embarrassed to the point where she wanted to leave and was actually annoyed with your parents. Although, a couple funny childhood stories would be ok but you wanted to stand up for your baby sister when things might get a bit too much.

"so" your father starts talking

"Claude, how do you plan to treat my daughter?" he continues with

"Dad" you warn looking at him trying to prevent exactly what you were afraid of

"I'm kidding. It was a joke. Calm down, care bear. If your mom's dad asked me that at seventeen I would have started sweating and crying in front of him" he admits and the table starts laughing. max too just because everyone else is-- in particular, Bruce. maybe if you weren't so tense you would have noticed it was a joke. God, you needed wine

"wine anyone?" you ask the table getting up and grabbing the bottle of wine you brought. your mom accepts and Bruce denies as he is driving and your dad jut doesn't drink. Hopefully this will help you calm down

questions are thrown at Claude to try and get to know him and he kindly answers. You soon come to the conclusion that you were worrying for no reason at all and didn't need to be so uptight. When you thought you were out of the spotlight your mom brings up an old embarrassing story of you that she promised to never tell anyone. Bruce didn't even know this.

"she went out drinking with some of her friends one time and I knew that they were drinking but she legally was allowed to so I couldn't stop her. But I think we both wish she did listen to me. I waited up for her to make sure she was ok when she came home but nobody walked through the front door, so I went to bed. Maybe she was staying at a friends house and forgot to text or she could sill be out. I don't know. I get waken up by my phone ringing at five am and guess who it is" she says pointing to you at the last part as if the whole table didn't know.

"she was whispering 'mom, can you open the front door please.' thought nothing of it besides the fact it was five am. I opened the door and she wasn't there, so I called her back and asked where she was. she told me she was waiting outside. long story short, she wasn't at our house but a completely different neighbourhood knocking on some innocent families door with some strange woman that I didn't recognise when i picked her up. she told me 'mom, this is angelina' she comes over to me and whispers 'it's angelina jolie. be nice' she thought this random woman was angelina jolie and this poor woman was just following her around because they had been talking all night."

you drop your head in shame as she finishes off the story and embarrassment, Bruce glancing over to you multiple times because he could never imagine you getting that drunk.

"to be fair, I was new to drinking, didn't know my limits and wanted to have fun. Anna, do not ever do anything like that, it was the worst i has ever been it's not worth it"

"Wait, we were together then? You were at least twenty one then" Bruce comments

"yeah, I didn't call you back for like three days." you reply

" I called your parents to make sure you were ok. do you even remember this?" he asks

"no. so this could be completely made up" you admit knowing damn well it was real because of the terrible hangover you had

"oh it was real alright" your dad pipes in

"ok, can we drop it this is embarrassing." you ask ashamed

because of this simple ask, your parents do not in fact drop it and the night ends up being all about you instead of Claude and Anna which was a bit unfair but I guess it was better than embarrassing Anna.

The night ends when Claude's parents ask him to come home. You and Bruce set off then too saying goodbye to Anna, Max and your parents sarcastically thanking them for everything they said.

As you and Bruce drive home and get ready for bed, he won't drop the subject of you getting obliterated drunk.

"I can't wait until I see Alfred next. I'm going to ask him about all the times that you got drunk beyond your limits"

and with that he was quiet and dropped the topic.

"honestly, I think Claude had the hots for you more than Anna. he was staring at you the whole dinner" you say to him

"stop, he just met THE Bruce Wayne. of course he's gonna be starstruck" he replies

"you're so full of it"

and that's how the night you were scared about ended. you were slightly embarrassed to be honest because as you knew deep down in your brain, there was nothing to worry about.

#dc #deadricslover #batman #bruce wayne #christian bale x reader #batman begins #bruce wayne x reader #christian bale #the dark knight #the batman

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