#Because it's not deep at all. It's very simple. If you try to DIVE DEEP to understand it you'll miss it completely | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lusmeitli · 10 months ago

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki smut #snow

360 notes · View notes

infiniity-survivor-choco · 13 days ago

Text

Daily Reminders.

Executive dysfunction isn't being lazy. You're disabled.

Parents should treat their kids with respect. Not as pet projects to project their dreams onto.

Intent matters in anything and everything.

Organized Religion has caused a lot of damage. Christianity and Islam in particular. You're not obliged to explain to anybody your disdain for either. Faith is separate from Religion.

2025 is ragebait. overcome it through Spite and Whimsy.

Comfort characters are more than pixels on a screen. They can be a lifeline to some. Do not allow anyone to diminish their worth to signal virtue about the value of "real people." because the feelings fiction brings you are equally as real.

Stand your ground no matter what depending on how much of your safety or comfort you're willing to sacrifice for the end game.

Survivorship status is no crutch or badge it's a part of you and it's different for each one of us. Someone's performative critique pointing and using someone's status to devalue them based on their own selfishness and inability to process their misery - usually from the shadows defines them and not you. Respect yourself and your journey. Move. Forward.

Being angry is okay. Being upset is okay. Crying is okay. Hating is okay. Feelings of any type are equally important and should be safe to process with true friends. Nobody who loves you will keep a record of your self expression to later try use against you.

Everything you think you know. You often don't. When you feel an expert in something it's the wonder of diving deep into something and being fascinated. The Dunning Kruger Effect takes effect here. Ancient philosopher Socrates said it best. "All I know is I know nothing"

In juxtaposition to the point above. Acknowledge your skills and capabilities. The above quote doesn't mean you're ignorant. It means there's always so much more to know. The universe is a prime example. Humans. Fickle as they are have already made so many theories with the very limited technology compared to what's needed to traverse it. In such few years. It's just as understood though that many of these will be disproven as hypothesis always undergo that process in which they're tested. Should they last they're close to fact as possible.

You don't need to like people. You don't need to care if a lot of people don't like you. Existing for the world is the opposite of self actualization. If you are loved and love those worth it to you, the rest is noise. Your journey is yours to walk and live. Anybody trying to torpedo it becomes a simple obstacle.

That said. Don't hurt those who don't deserve it. Being kind isn't about platitudes or weakness. Be a monster to monsters, be sweet to sweet people, discern the difference between anger and malice, too, it's about being self aware and aware of others.

You'll meet once in a blue moon people who don't appear human. This isn't metaphysics but just special individuals that don't fit any personality type or anything you've heard of. I'm one of those myself. There's not many in the world but it starts intuitively since little and develops from understanding the world and universe.

#choco speaks #actually adhd #actually autistic #actually disabled #actually survivor

91 notes · View notes

soberpluto · 10 months ago

Text

Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

#neptune #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology community #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #neptune personal planets #neptune sun #neptune moon #neptune mercury #neptune venus #neptune mars

221 notes · View notes

heart2sea · 3 months ago

Text

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ below the waves (read on ao3)

word count: 1.7k

tags: rafayel pov, angst & hurt/comfort, seamonster!raf, raf's lemurian form, graphic descriptions of sex, graphic descriptions of killing and death, throwback-ish to his seething flames card, two fools in love

summary: it shouldn't have happened this way. Never like this. It should've been under his control. But now she sees him, scaled and long and like the merciless predator he is, and he spirals.

It shouldn't be embarrassing, not really. It should be pride, a moment of glory and the sweet smell of a homecoming. To no longer be restrained by the slightly-too-tight, always a bit too-warm shape of humanity; how wonderful and sincere, to be embraced once again by the ethereality of the luminescent scales—a gift by birth—and the comfortable weight of his tail.

But not like this. Never like this.

Because as Rafayel sits pitifully within a bathtub, chest heaving, pearls scattered throughout the cold marble floor (a beautiful sight, were not the terrifying circumstances of the familiarity of the new shape asphyxiating him), he refuses to meet her gaze. Her eyes, so wide, so full of concern, glimmering with awe and previously fear, and he can not return it. How delightful the banter they'd shared just a few hours ago, simple and devoid of complicated feelings beyond a very deep, almost hidden to the untrained eye, subtext of sensuality. But now her nightgown is all wet—not in the way he would want to, and her fingers tremble with the effort of not touching him due to foolishly thinking she'll hurt him.

Because she could hurt him and has. But not in the way she thinks she would.

"Are you... are you feeling alright?" She speaks, her voice too soft. He wants to scoff. He knows she is purposely avoiding the elephant in the room, seemingly preoccupied with his well-being and conveniently ignoring the meters long tail just brushing past her thighs. It's a game they both know too well; dancing around the main issue, vaguely referring to it without diving straight into it. Other ways are passè. Too on the nose. Whatever dynamic they had come up with is much more exciting and keeps everyone (including him) guessing, a tension that hurts him deliciously, akin to applying pressure to a sore muscle. He isn't sure if she feels the same way.

He simply nods at her question. His eyes close, trying to think about anything but her drenched, warm presence that was now chattering her teeth due to the open window. She doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to react. They are truly a perfect pair.

But then she reaches to the fin sprouting out of his human ear, and stops for a moment as if asking for permission to continue. Her hands envelop the scaly skin, caressing it with a devotion that's most certainly more curiosity than concern, her eyes roaming through his face for any sign of discomfort. The water makes a sloshing sound with her gentle movements, a stark contrast to the petrified form of her lover. Water should be his element, it's true, but it's water that smells like salt and foam and the rotting carcass of Lemuria on the seabed, not the filtered, vanilla scented water of the bathtub.

And yet, it seems his body cannot distinguish the two. He doesn't know what happened. He's no longer in control. The tides have shifted and receded and left him beached and stranded at her feet. Again.

"Do you need to go back to the sea?" She asks and he feels like crying. Does he? He does. But not really. Would she follow him there? What would kill her first? The lack of oxygen? The pressure unbearable to the human body? Perhaps, almost comically, a too-hungry killer whale.

Rafayel finally looks up and drinks her in. She always wears her emotions on her face, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not grab her face between his hands and kiss her senseless; not because he's full to the brim with melancholy and a deep sense of forlorn—which he is, but because for creatures like him, kissing always evolves in devouring.

She thinks she knows how that goes. That his passionate kisses always end up on her neck, her chest, her abdomen and lower. That his insatiable mouth latches onto her core like a man possessed and starved by a demon of lust and hunger until she's squirming, as scalding hot tears leave her blissed-out eyes, overstimulated, then he plants more kisses in a trail upwards until they end lost in her mouth again.

But she definitely does not. Despite the erotic, vivid imagery, that is the fairytale version of what he does not dare to tell her. That despite her complimenting the softness of his lips, there's a dark grey void in his anatomy that is always looming, slowly cornering Rafayel in an attempt to intimidate him into giving in. And sometimes, it almost works. Like now.

"No." Rafayel answers, his voice raw and distorted. He's careful to not gesticulate much so as to not scare her with the glittering sharpness of his teeth. He doesn't know where the full extent of her Evol lies—all he knows is that, somehow, it just saved her life. It stopped her from becoming another human skeleton in the depths of the sea.

It would be easy. Far too easy. And that's what scares him. In his nightmares, he has played the scenario over and over until he simply decides sleep is not important. He would lure her in with the promise of the sunset over the sea, of making love between the waves. Maybe be a bit too rough; nibble her neck and collarbone with enough force to tear apart the flesh just slightly. If she asks, blame it on passion.

Then, when she's weak with the afterglow of her orgasm, look at her hopeful, living eyes one last time and drag her into the depths. Watch her struggle to breathe, claw her throat, her lungs, his arms. And then, as some sort of psychological horror poetry, a callback to the gentleness of his love bites, he would tear her throat apart with ease and munch on it. The water around her would stain itself a crimson red, signaling to all the other predators that this prey already has an owner.

But it's not what he wants. It's what's written under his skin, flowing in his veins, but his heart is carved in the shape of her, forcefully overriding his animalistic instincts. How could he do that to her?

He wants to believe she still has time. That she can still run away and find a much more gentle, unassuming lover. Someone whose caresses are not one sea storm away from ripping her in two; someone whose kisses stay as kisses and not a gaping hunger consuming them.

But as she forces him to stare at her, her eyes full of love and worry and a million emotions about to spill over, he knows it's way too late. For her. For him. Even if she wanted to leave, her heart holds the leash of his soul. He would swim behind her, always at arm's distance, watching as she embraced someone else, silently hoping his instincts take over and rip her paramour apart. But never her. Gods, never her.

And it's like she can sense him spiralling, losing himself in the dark pit of his restless mind when she draws closer to him and traces a delicate finger on his cheekbone.

"I like your scales." She says, a nostalgic throwback to times where, for the first time, he didn't think himself unlovable. Small, vulnerable, half-dead—merely a larva, not quite grown into his tail, his teeth not finding their sharpness just yet. Does she remember? Or is it just the depths of her consciousness gasping for air, begging to see the light of the day like it does every once in a while? He just laughs. A shaky, uneasy laugh that quite frankly does a terrible job hiding his inner turmoil. Rafayel always believed he was a master at wearing masks; with her back in his arms after centuries of longing and waiting, he's not so sure anymore.

"Don't say that." He manages to croak, as if pleading with her to not draw him closer, to please stop ensnaring him any further. Because yes! There's always a looming threat that he could hurt her, kill her even. But gods, she hurts too. And it's addictive. And she would hurt like him, too, if she just remembered.

"Why not?" And oh, she laughs, the corner of her eyes crinkling. He wants to paint that scene in his mind for the rest of eternity. "It's true. Did they call you the most handsome fish in the school?"

And there it is. Her way of trying to lift the fog in his heart. Something she learned from him—humor; but it has to be that particular kind of silly, almost childish humor. She thinks they're his favorite jokes. He knows it's to soften his own edges for her.

And he hates how it just fucking works, because he now has a stupid, goofy smile plastered on his blue-scaled face. She smirks, victoriously, knowing she just lifted him from the void he was being swallowed in, and he has a mind to wipe off that smugness from her face. With a kiss or two. He attempts to cover his mouth as to not show her his teeth, but she grabs his arm with the excuse to inspect for injuries. She finds none, of course. But it's her way of saying I'm here, despite what you think.

She kisses his nose and he wants to melt into a puddle at her feet. The spirits of the sea have shunned him away long ago for surrendering his soul to a human woman. But Lemuria has long crumbled away, and there are no courts to sentence him and hold him accountable—it is now his own burden to bear, if it could be called that, because it is a weight that he enjoys being crushed on. It's a weight that whispers him awake in the mornings and nuzzles him when thunder strikes too loud and appears in the evenings with a box of warm food when she knows he hasn't eaten all day. He couldn't care less.

He clings onto her like a barnacle, embracing her. He wants to say sorry for almost killing you, but he knows she'd just roll her eyes and swat his hand away. It's almost cute how she's just unafraid, perhaps due to being a Hunter. Or maybe she simply does not mind death.

Whatever it is, he won't dwell in it. He gently encircles her with his tail and sighs into her shoulder, his claws mindlessly playing with her scalp. She shivers at the feeling and he knows, much to his dismay, that she's tethered to him in the exact same way he’s to her.

It’s almost ironic how much hope he can find in this hopeless situation.

#love and deepspace #qi yu x reader #lads rafayel #qi yu #my writing #rafayel #they put me in a room gun to my head asking me to write anything but angst and i simply choose the bullet.#ANYWAYYYYY seamonster raf has been stuck in my head for days now. i kind of need him. but not without him suffering a bit for it.

58 notes · View notes

sadistic-kiss · 4 months ago

Text

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

Succubus Reader x Various JJK Men

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Eleven.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Toji was livid.

You had been running him around like a damn chicken with its head cut off!

~First, it was the bounce house…

“Toji~ Come bounce with me~.” You waved at him with a cute smile. You were dressed like a sexy bunny, hopping around with floppy ears.

When he crawled into the bounce house- that was more like a gigantic maze- he thought he had you, but he could never get his hands on you! You would giggle and then disappear right before he got you. Leading him to dead ends and then running behind him in another direction. He got so fed up that he took out his blade and began to stab the bounce house as everyone inside screamed, trying to escape the deflating prison.

~Then it was the bubble run…

When he ripped himself out of the plastic, he caught sight of you skipping toward the field of bubbles, dressed in some sexy magical girl costume with a tiny skirt.

He chased after you and got lost in the sea of bubbles.

“Toji~”

“Over here~!”

“Are you even trying to catch me~?”

You would pop in and out like a ghost, making him dizzy.

After a good minute of that bullshit, he found the stupid bubble machine, kicked it to bits, and then sent it flying over the trees.

~Then… there was the fucking pool incident…

He was downright seething, ignoring the copies of you that he knew he couldn’t catch. The real you wasn’t here.

He had to find you.

“Toji~?”

“Don’t you want to play with us?”

“Where are you going?”

Your magical girl and bunny clones followed after him, trying to pull him in a different direction, which had to mean he was going the right way.

Walking through the crowd of people, he looked around very carefully. You would probably be somewhere trying to get food.

Duh- it was seriously that simple.

Scouting the backyard, he was about to go inside, but then he stopped, spotting you talking to a group of people.

You were dressed in a sexy mermaid bikini, smiling and nodding as you engaged in your conversation with what he assumed was your next treat.

You looked toward him and gasped, trying to run. That made him even more energized. This was the first time you seemed shocked!

“Got you!” He growled, charging for you. He wasn’t gonna let you get away this time!

This had to be you!

“Oh no, you- woah!” Just as he flung toward you, you had disappeared, and the next thing he knew, he was flying… diving right into the pool with a big splash.

Everyone was laughing as he popped back up with a growl. His gaze was locked onto your three clones, who were giggling within the crowd. Swimming to the edge of the pool, he paused. A sweet… savory smell… touched his nose. Taking a deep breath, his eyes darted upward where Choso’s room was located. The window was open, letting out the fragrance of his favorite meal.

“Hey, you need help?” Someone offered their hand.

“No…I’m good now.” He jumped out of the water. He stalked his prey with the determination of a hound.

~Present~

So yeah, Toji had quite the night.

And he had his reasons to be mad at you.

Despite this, as he dragged you down the hall with your hair within his grip you did not feel fear but pure excitement.

‘Oh, I’m about to get so fucked.’

That thought made your minions giggle.

“You think this is funny?“ Toji stopped as he twisted your head so you could look up at him.

You poked out your bottom lip and tried to fix your eyes as sad as possible, “I’m sorry~.”

“You made me lose out on a bet, and not to mention this.” He pointed downward, and your eyes followed to see the large tent underneath his costume.

You swallowed the drool that threatened to escape your lips. Your Bunny girl clone began to drool, but the mermaid you elbowed her.

You were all in trouble here. Every last one of…well-you.

However, you only started all of this because of what he did earlier!

Looking up at him, you voice your defense, “You started it first, you flushed my treat!”

“Mhm~”

“So mean…”

“You teased us first.”

Your clones spoke up like an angry mob of yous.

Toji grinned wickedly, “Is that what this is all about?”

You give him a slight nod.

“Fine. Let me give you that treat after I punish you for your little stunt.”

Oh, sweet heavens~

You were about to say something, but then you caught sight of the door that led to your supposed room.

Toji noticed your distracted gaze and looked to see what it was you spotted.

He chuckled, “Who told you? Was it Yu?”

“Told me what?”

You received a quick swat to your ass making you squeak.

“Don’t be a brat. Who told you about the room?”

“Uh- Nanami-“

Toji snorted, “That’s the answer you want to go with?”

“Maybe…” You couldn’t hide your excitement, and you think that lessened his need to punish you for lying. “…Can I see it?”

“It’s not ready yet.”

“I…have an idea how I want it to look.” You smile already configuring the room to your liking. So as soon as Toji opened the door, you were greeted with the place fully furnished and decorated just as you imagined.

You were released as you stepped into the room to admire what was soon to be real.

“Cute…” Toji commented as he stepped in, “…you will need to write a list of all of this down- aye-Where do you three think you are going?” Your clones were about to skip off to cause more havoc, but they stopped at Toji’s comment.

“Uh-“

He reached out to pull all three of them into the room. “Bed, all of you.” Toji snapped while pointing.

You were so giddy about the room and what was to cum- you had to do your best to remember that Toji was ‘mad’ at you. You had to hold in your giggles as all four of you ‘groaned’ walking toward the bed. Climbing on top of the bed you positioned your ass in the air, chest to the blanket. You already knew what he wanted.

You could hear him shedding his wet clothes off, dropping them into the corner. You took a peek to see that monstrous length that had you shivering. Your tail couldn’t stop swishing in excitement. So you had to play your part with your words.

“I’m sorry sir~ I didn’t mean to make you lose out on money.”

“Yeah, we are sorry~!”

A slight gasp left your lips as Toji flipped over the skirt of your magical girl clone.

“Oh, I know princess.” Toji’s tone was nothing more than lustful excitement. You could tell he was trying to pace himself so he didn’t dive right on in. He was savoring this. He squeezed the fat off your ass, toying with you. He then reached over to tap your bunny clone's ass. She squirmed, your need bleeding out. “Be still.” He demanded.

She mewled but otherwise went still as his hand groped her ass in any way that pleased him.

You could tune into your clones all at once, feeling everything at the same time. It was tough to do when fighting and even horrible if they got hurt, but during intimate moments, it made everything more heightened. You felt a lot more dizzy being so mentally spread out, but in a good way.

It was a euphoric feeling to go through.

Usually, you’ve only done this when you were with two or more of them at the same time, sometimes in the same room or different places. Never like this though.

Did Toji truly think he could handle four of you?

That was silly! Perhaps you should voice such concerns!

“Toji, I’m not sure if this is a good idea…you shouldn’t play with all of me-“

Smack!

“Ah~” You flinched as his hand smacked your cheek.

“Let me worry about that. Hmm…let’s see…I lost out on about fifty dollars. So that will be…um…uh…”

“Twelve and a half?”

“I was getting there- but yeah, we will just go with twelve each. Since I’m feeling nice.”

You poked your head up a bit, “Does that one count for me?”

“Nope. It starts now. Make sure you count for me girls.” With that, he began his little punishment.

Each smack had you groaning, no matter if it was you or your clone, you could feel it all. He would smack one ass and then bounce to the next and the next, finding a sort of playful rhythm. You didn’t shout out the number until he slapped the last one, and all of you spoke in unison-

“One! We are sorry Sir~!”

Toji was loving it. He grinned the whole time, enjoying the jiggle of your ass. Each one of you in a different sexy costume, making a different kind of noise or face. All of them are his favorites.

What’s better than one of you? Four of you!

…The punishment went on until you reached ten-

“Ah~ Ten- we are sorry~!”

Toji had to stop for a second squeezing his cock, he was aching to be inside you. He could see your juices leak past each costume. He had so much to feast upon- It was hard to decide which one he wanted first. He just had to go for the one that was in front of his face, which just so happened to be the bikini-dressed clone.

Pulling her swimsuit down, he dove in tongue first.

You all released a scream, your thighs squeezing tight as you felt Toji’s tongue ravage your cunt. Yet he didn’t stop there. He reached over to your skirt and slipped two fingers passed the fabric so he could toy with you as well. Your mind was drowning in pleasure, feeling the thrust of his fingers along with his tongue had you breathing heavily. Just this was driving you insane. Your other two clones moaned, reaching down to put pressure between their legs.

You don’t even think a minute went by before you all screeched and came at once.

Your bikini clone fell forward, shivering in post-orgasm. Toji didn’t give you any time to breathe. He flipped her over and then grabbed you, smooshing you on top of yourself.

“T-toji-ah~wait- aaah~!’ You cried as he pushed his cock into your mermaid clone.

All of your eyes rolled as you felt the intense stretch of your pussy.

Though he wasn’t inside of you, you fluttered around nothing, feeling the pleasure through your clone. You all could feel it.

“Wait? Tch- you gonna tell me how I shouldn’t fuck you? I already told you I’m fine. I’ll let you go when I’ve had my fill.” He released a chuckle as he snapped his hips forward without enough prep. The mermaid you was moaning nonstop digging her nails into your back as Toji fucked her relentlessly. He then pulled out and slammed into you, making your bite into yourself. It was like he couldn’t choose which one he wanted to be inside, switching to your pussy and then the clone, giving you guys equal treatment.

All of it pleasurable and dizzying.

He didn’t forget about your other clones either. He grabbed your magical girl clone and pulled her into a wet kiss. He then flicked his fingers at your last clone, telling her to come closer, which she did with excitement. Snatching down her top he swapped from kissing one of you to sucking the tit of the other. All while keeping up the thrust of his hips.

A man of talent, he was.

Your mind split into four as you felt everything that was going on- from being fucked- to being kissed- from having your breasts teased. It was all too much. You couldn’t think straight.

“AH!” You all cried as you came for the second time.

Toji released a little growl as he quickly pulled out from your spamming cunt.

“I’m not gonna let you off that easily.”He jumped onto the bed. “Get up here so I can feed you, that’s what you wanted right?”

Your clones were scrambling to get more, but you tried to reason with him (as best as you could while also climbing over) because if he died, you weren’t going to hear the end of it! What are you feasting on?! You hadn’t a clue as to what the exchange was, but Toji didn’t get tired until Toji was tired. Which was scary, how did you know when enough was enough?!

“Toji… maybe we should…um…” You were stuttering, losing your train of thought as Toji began to make out with your three clones. Hands were everywhere, a big love pile of you and Toji- it was hard not to feel so lost in the lust. His big cock within your hands, you could feel every vein and every pulse, his greedy hands upon you seeking to make you cum again and again. You didn’t want to kill him, so you tried to make one more valiant effort. “Mmm~” You moaned, body trembling. “I-I ah-don’t want to kill you…hmm..”

Toji broke from a sloppy kiss and grabbed you by your arms dragging you over to the love mess, “You let me worry about that sweetheart, the only thing that should be on your mind is riding my cock.”

Lifting you right above his tip, you released a choked gasp.

He grinned, knowing that you were drunk off pleasure. “Can you manage that pet or do you need help?”

You nodded your head, “I can-I can handle it-oh Toji-“

You let out a moan as he stretched you more than a normal human being would feel comfortable with. Either Toji was lucky or unlucky- because having a cock this big scared a lot of women away. It was very hard for him to actually fuck anyone because it took way too much prep work (he was lazy) and normally the only people that could take him were pornstars. It was nice to have his partner in immense pleasure instead of awkward pain. Being able to fuck you with no restraints is well worth the risk of dying. (In Toji’s mind).

“Fuck- You feel so good-“ his eyes rolled as he laid back, “-get that pussy up here too, I wanna eat you out while you ride me.”

One of your clones threw her leg over Toji, ready to ride his face till dawn.

At first, you were doing a good job riding Toji, but then the added sensation of being eaten out had you drooling and panting. Your hands rest on his chest as you grab your own hands and cry together with pleasure. Both of you could barely focus on doing your assigned jobs.

“Come on now-“ Toji lifted your hips while glaring down at you, “- you said you could do it.”

“C-can’t- t-too much-too much-“ You murmured while twitching.

“Ha- the succubus that claims it’s too much, can’t believe I’ve found your weakness.” He tapped one of your other clones on the sideline, “You help yourself cum…-and you…use my hand until you cum.” He grinned evilly, knowing all of this would really drive you crazy. He truly did find your weak spot, and now he was going to exploit it- he was pure evil! “Get to work ladies.”

Once you all got into position, the pleasurable torture continued.

You were aiding yourself, using all your strength to help the ride, going numb upon Toji’s large cock, another part of you was riding Toji’s hand, gripping his wrist, while another part of you was being ravished by this hungry man. All of you were a crying mess of pleasure.

Trembling and shaking until you came.

It was a chorus of cries as you collapsed, feeling used up.

Toji pushed your clone off his face and flipped you over so he could press you into the bed. His lips met yours and then he was driving his cock deeper inside you as you spasmed around him. Your clones were crying out your pleasure that was silenced by Toji. The way he was thrusting into you was like a wild bull. It was all too much, so much so that you lost your clones and the illusion of the room. The two of you were just on the floor of an almost empty room, which didn’t matter to him or you.

Sweat and your juices clung to his body as he chased his release.

Then with one final snap he growled and pushed deep into you, you felt your body explode with heat as his cum filled you up. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and then you blacked out.

You gasped awake, panting heavily as you blinked your eyes a few times. Your body was buzzing with energy. You felt like how Yu gets when he drinks way too many energy drinks. You felt like you were going to burst.

“Woah…” Toji commented next to you.

You sat up to look at him, he was lying back on the floor with scratch marks all over his body, his lip was also bleeding, most likely from your fangs cutting into him.

“What?” You question him, no longer holding back your true voice.

“…Nothing…” You noticed his wary gaze upon you as he slowly sat up.

Getting up, you find a half-covered mirror and move the cloth from it.

Within the reflection, you could see what had him worried.

Your eyes were bright, your horns were so long they began to curl, your wings were thick and powerful, and your tail was sharper. Nails long and hair as healthy as can be. The markings on you were drawn out on your entire body, and it glowed beautifully, always moving like it was alive.

You felt fucking amazing.

You looked fucking amazing.

You began to giggle and then you began to laugh heartedly as you touched your face and body lovingly.

You felt alive.

Still giggling like an evil villain, you strut to the door and waved your hand as it opened with grace.

“Thanks for the meal Toji~”

And with that, you left the room, leaving the man looking dumbfounded.

“Fuck…” He cursed before flopping backward.

Maybe they overfed you tonight.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Twelve.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

93 notes · View notes

clarkeylesbian · 10 months ago

Text

The Frog-Off

[Sypnosis : you and arthur attempt at the clay tiktok trend]

The camera turns on, and Arthur is grinning at it with his usual mix of smugness and charm. “Right, so!” he starts, his excitement barely contained. “Today, I’ve got a very special guest—my girlfriend, Y/N!” He gestures to the side of the frame.

The camera swivels to reveal you waving shyly. You’re already covered in a layer of clay because, true to Arthur’s style, you didn’t prepare at all before starting the intro.

“We’re diving into the clay modelling challenge that’s been blowing up on TikTok,” Arthur explains, picking up two lumps of green clay. “We’ll recreate a model we find online, and then you all get to vote on who did it better. But let me tell you, it’s going to be me.”

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “You’ve never even touched clay before, Arthur.”

“It’s all about confidence, babe.”

Arthur pulls out his phone and shows it to the camera. The model you’ve chosen is a cute frog sitting on a lilypad. Simple enough, right?

Wrong.

“Alright,” Arthur says, squinting at the clay like he’s about to solve a complex maths problem. “Frog on a lilypad. This should be a piece of cake.”

You are already deep into your clay, focusing intently. “You say that now, but I’m already feeling like I’m failing this frog.”

The camera zooms in on your work, which resembles more of a squashed loaf of bread than a frog. Meanwhile, Arthur is still staring at his clay as if it’s the love of his life.

“You know,” Arthur muses, poking at the clay, “frogs are naturally lumpy. So, this is just me capturing their true texture.”

The camera pulls back to reveal Arthur’s creation: a round blob with legs sticking out at odd angles.

“I don’t know what that is,” you laugh, “but it’s definitely not a frog. It looks like a rejected Pokémon, bless.”

“It’s abstract,” Arthur defends. “You’ve got to feel the frog, not just mould it. This is art.”

“You seem more in love with your attempt at a frog than me,” you joke as Arthur kisses you on the head.

“I could never.”

You try not to laugh as you add eyes to your frog, which only makes it look high. Arthur plops two giant clay lumps onto his frog’s face, but they immediately fall off.

“Well, that’s just offensive,” he grumbles, trying to squish them back on.

There’s a brief pause before you point at the mess with a grin. “R.I.P. to your frog.”

Arthur shrugs. “We still have the lilypad. This is where I can shine. I can make circles.”

He grabs another lump of clay, slams it down on the table, and flattens it with his palm. “Behold, the lilypad.”

The camera pans to reveal something that looks more like a deflated pizza dough than a lilypad. You’re carefully shaping yours into a leaf-like form, too focused to notice Arthur’s attempt.

Arthur dramatically announces, “Oh, babe, get ready to be amazed.”

He proudly sets his “lilypad” on the table and places his pancake-like frog on top. It stays put, though it doesn’t exactly look stable.

You glance over and start laughing, trying to keep your own frog intact. “Is that… supposed to look like that?”

Arthur looks at his creation proudly.

As he adjusts his frog, one of its legs suddenly breaks off. Arthur throws his hands up in mock defeat. “Well, it seems like my frog’s had a bit of an accident.”

[] []

With your frogs and lilypads (if you can even call them that) side by side, you both step back to judge the results.

“Alright,” Arthur says, rubbing his hands together like a game show host. “It’s time to compare. Let’s see who's frog reigns supreme.”

You both lean in to examine the creations. Arthur’s frog looks like it’s had a rough day: half-melted, one eye missing and legs that are on the verge of breaking again.

Your frog isn’t perfect, but at least it’s recognizably a frog. It’s lumpy with one leg too big, and the lilypad looks like it was made from Play-Doh, but there’s a certain charm in its beady eyes.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Arthur says, trying to hold back laughter. “Your frog is.. fine. It’s decent. But mine has character. It’s got a story. It’s been through some things.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Your frog looks like it’s seen the apocalypse.”

Arthur places a dramatic hand on his heart. “Exactly. It’s got emotional depth. My frog feels things.”

You both crack up as Arthur picks up his frog, and the legs fall off once more.

“Well,” Arthur shrugs, holding up the dismembered frog, “I think we all know who the real winner is here.” He turns to the camera. “But you guys, comment below! Who do you think made the better frog?”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Clearly me”

The camera zooms in dramatically on Arthur’s clay disaster as he whispers, “Art.”

“If you enjoyed this chaos,” Arthur says, trying to sound professional despite the mess, “don’t forget to like, subscribe, and hit the bell. And if you want more couple challenge videos—”

You jump in, “Please don’t make us do more clay.”

Arthur chuckles. “Yeah, we’re officially banned from clay. But seriously, let us know what you want to see next.”

“Vote for mi-” you attempt to say before the video cuts off.

[note: I've never made a fic before, so sorry it's not the best!]

#arthurtv #arthur frederick #oneshot #british youtubers #arthurtv x reader #oneshots

126 notes · View notes

igglemouse · 2 months ago

Text

Week 3 ~ Just A Smile ~ Tuesday

I wake with even more chores to do which is sort of feeling like my life? I suppose it's not very exciting and because of that I could not help but wonder about that Caroline woman I met. A pretty odd character? Personally, I try my best to not seek out danger because I imagine it is never hard to find.

There. There it is! Your Sasism for the day. Don't look for danger because it is not hard to find.

There's enough danger in a good book any ways and whenever I have the time I can't help but dive into one. There is something about the written word that just sinks into you unlike a more visual medium. The words can bury deep into your brain and hang around there forever. Nothing like a good book!

It's Tuesday so that means it's the day I pay my bills. I make enough from writing for the rent here but I do believe you all know how much I wish to move out. It's just cramped and I would really love a bigger place someday at least enough to stretch arms and legs in my living room or bedroom!

I think because of my Sasisms I'm always the one people call on for advice but I do want to tell you life isn't as hard as you think it is. Wait, I suppose it is, but sometimes we do oversimplify things, especially when it comes to relationships.

For example, my brother, Kapp, as you all know him, calls to tell me about a potential love triangle between him and two women and he wants to know what he should do about it.

The answer I tell him is simple. Develop your relationship with one woman and then tell the other woman that it is not going to work out. Painful, I know, but sometimes you do have to rip the bandaid off.

Sometimes the day ahead of you is simply beautiful and it should be a crime to stay inside. We all have our hobbies but I strongly suggest one of them should involve being outdoors, it's just good for your health, isn't it?

Mines of course is fishing and with it being such a lovely day I manage to even catch a few fish at the end of my line! It was truly an excellent way to spend the prime of my day!

I was home before the rise of the moon but I am barely able to settle in before the arrival of a guest. Citra?

It was Citra and she comes inside with a glow that cannot be ignored and with a bit of purpose to her. So I sit her down and figure out that not only does she sell drugs but she does them? I know that shouldn't be too surprising but isn't there some rule against that? Not that I would know, I've been sober my entire life and my the only high I get is on optimism.

I guess I am learning that perhaps her hobbies and interest don't line up well with mines.

One of my interests is writing, for now at least and tonight I am starting my new book, Starlight's Exodus! It's a sci-fi book and hopefully the first of a series of books? That would be pretty cool! Maybe one day it could be a feature film even?

Index ~ Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 5 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #sasi srisai #citra jawa #kapp srisai #caroline alford

51 notes · View notes

elderwisp · 1 year ago

Text

On Repeat - an oc tag

rules are pretty simple, pick as many (or as little) oc's as you'd like and find a song that you relate to them the most! feel free to mention why too! o and tag some more ppl too! that would be cool! i tag: @goldenwaves @acidheaddd @dejasenti99 @earthmoonz @moonfromearth @stinkrascal @matchalovertrait @lynzishell @sirianasims @vicciouxs @gvaudoiin-tricou @smulie @living-undead @pralinesims @lucidicer @literalite @nepotisim @mattodore @madebycoffee @daniigh0ul @changingplumbob @yukikocloud @cinamun @moonwoodhollow @youredreamingofroo @acuar-io @raiiny-bay

deep dive below ⇣

Frances Dubois:

Something about the whimsical instrumentals backed up with the haunting vocals almost reminds me of someone stuck in a loop. There's repetition in the chorus that solidifies that feeling. I also like the juxtaposition of the French lyrics, like the second singer is aware and has a desire to change. When I think of Frances, I envision someone in limbo and part of that is the inability to make a decision. She finds herself stuck, in a way, her anxiety makes the decision for her because doing nothing is something. Whilst Icarus has helped nudge her into making decisions such as aiding her in graduating, speaking to Atlas, and supporting her in her audition. there's still this internal desire to make that move on her own. The first time we see her do that is when she decides to kiss Icarus, which in a way, pushed her back into her loop as it didn't end well. As of current events, she's avoided him since.

↬ sometimes - mattyeux and princess chelsea

Daniella Álvarez:

This song to me encapsulates someone who has had to be independent at a very young age. The beginning opens with spoken lyrics, "She asked me who's taking care of me, I said, 'I take care of me'" and whilst incredibly empowering, there's always that question of how did we get here? Dan is the eldest of two younger siblings. In fact, there's quite the age gap between her siblings and if we look at Valeria, she also looks just as youthful. Dan is the product of an unplanned pregnancy as well as a bit of a narcissistic mother. The disorderly environment in which she's been given, learning to be a caretaker of her siblings and the constant pressure of success has lead her to have self-sufficient character. Whenever I think about her dynamic with her friends, I'm reminded of this scene, and she's the glue that is trying to hold the chaos together.

↬ taken care of - suzi wu

Kai Castillo:

Christ this song is so good. The instrumentals backed up by the vocals, feels a bit somber. Throughout Tessellate, Kai hides behind the fact that he has these feelings towards Atlas and they've started to bubble over into jealousy as Atlas's relationship grows with Kai's sister, Taryn. I also love that there are a lot of comparisons here to Lucifer Morningstar and religious elements. Kai's relationship with his religion is somewhat of a paradox as he is a closeted gay man to his parents, his sister and church. In fact, he does a lot of things that would bring quite a bit disapproval. He's unforthcoming, somewhat suspicious because his secrets have given him a reason to be. His story is of one that falls from grace.

↬ i am the antichrist to you - kishi bashi

Atlas Dubois:

While Paul Julian Banks narrates a song about struggling with addiction, I noticed there's a bit of a different beat in comparison to the rest of Interpol's songs. The tempo is much slower, as if exhaustion has set in and we're barely moving along. When we meet Atlas, it's at the beginning of a fresh start, not really knowing what has happened prior. Slowly throughout, we pull back minor details that entail his complex struggles with addiction. What initially started out as a bit of fun, became all consuming, allowing any given opportunity to be a reason why he should use. The bridge of this song also discuss the contrast between himself and his partner discovering his addiction for the first time. There's also a change in his tone during that that I find to be so neat! It does remind me a bit of his relationship with Taryn. I do know that addiction lasts a lifetime, and that love doesn't solve it all, but I also know that right support is the most important.

↬ rest my chemistry - interpol

#u guys remember those ipod commercials where there was a black silhouette and a really colorful background? ah good times #that was the inspo for this but in reverse #also kai looking like a happy lil guy but his song being so SAD LMAOOOO lore accurate #i tried to include as many ppl as possible from the original post or ppl i notice enjoy deep dives with their ocs #AH OK #oc: frances #oc: dan #oc: kai #oc: atlas #tag thingy #tessellate: extras #ts4 #simblr #my sims #show us your sims

177 notes · View notes

puckpocketed · 3 months ago

Text

MIT Sloan Sports Analytics Conference 2025 - Decisions on Ice: The Next Frontier of Hockey Analytics (YouTube video. Please be advised you WILL be hearing it entirely from your left ear.)

Arda Ocal is moderating, hear from: Philippe Desaulniers (Habs, makes the tools GMs use to fetch data, reports, anything), Meghan Chayka (Stathletes), and Jeremy Rogalski (Bruins - he does get asked about trade deadlines briefly due to the banger that they had this season LOL)

I liked the diversity of voices here, felt like I was getting an interesting cross-section of the kinds of people who work in analytics & their perspectives. Lots of fun things but the first section was what I found most interesting. They talked about how analytics has changed coaching rooms, players and their relationship to analytics, and give a bit of insight on how that interface all goes nowadays. Transcript of that part below <3

ROGALSKI: Echoing what Phil and Meghan said, like, just the way to describe the game. Y'know, working with a - I started in the coach's room doing video work for them, and watching how, even a pre-scout for a game evolves from, y'know, coaches previously would watch like, three games of video and kind of look for some common trends in that, maybe do a deep dive on the season. But now you can describe, like, how a team breaks out, or how their power play formations are in so much detail that wasn't available 10, 15 years ago to put that together.

[...]

ROGALSKI: It's actually interesting you use the word 'storytelling', too, because I think Meghan's bang-on, I think, about a lot of inquiries coming our way now, which is great! But I think also in terms of, y'know, building a relationship with a coach, understanding what their schedule looks like, what their needs are, where they have windows of time to work through and educate on the data.

But also, I think packaging it in a digestible way, right? You're still, in some ways, doing the same thing with a coach where if there's a point you're trying to make, there is a time for a fact: "This guy's whatever on faceoff percentage," that's a fact, that needs to happen. But sometimes you gotta package it in a narrative that really helps them understand how they can then turn around and use that fact to improve the team or communicate to a player. So there is a component of that storytelling that's needed as well.

DESAULNIERS: To tack on what Jeremy was saying... So, I really see three things mainly that are important in order to have communications flowing between our group and the coaches.

The first thing is, really, it's really great to have a translator. You usually will have, like, someone on the team, or you want to have someone on the team who's able to speak the language with the coaches and who understands on the analytics side.

And so we'll be creating some reports, some setting up the information there so it can be consumed, and then you'll have, you, in our (the Montreal Canadiens') case it's Chris our Director of Analytics, who will be talking with the coaches and knowing what the coaches are expecting and presenting it in a way that they understand. So that's one thing.

The second thing that we found effective is, we've started creating some concepts that we try to keep as simple and as high-level as possible, but that then become part of the vocabulary that we have with the coaching staff.

So just to give an example, we'll be talking about players that are, that have a certain number of pillars, we call them pillars, which are at the bottom. They're metrics, very specific metrics, that we're tracking - you don't need to understand all the details to know that, okay, so this guy has a four pillar, or five pillar, and this way you know, like, where he stands at a very high level without having to dig into it.

The third thing that we do, that we've done, is get the coaches on board, so work on a way of organising the metrics based on what they're looking for, what their understanding of the game is, and organise the information that way. So then when they start digging into it they actually see what they were looking for.

And you get the buy-in from them, too, when you're doing that, because they've worked on it to build that structure.

ROGALSKI: I would add one thing, too, that I thought of. You raise a good point, too. I think visuals are huge here, too, right? Whether it's a heat map or just picking the right graphic or trend, or something that's -

DESAULNIERS: Colours!

ROGALSKI: I mean, reds and greens, like, it helps. It truly does help.

CHAYKA: Not to play your role Arda but I have a question for Jeremy, because you've been through some different coaches. Do you find, like, coaching staffs, as they change... From my work I find some are far more, just, ease of use and understanding and their ability to implement it in their game flow. Works a lot better for some people's style than others, have you seen that change with, like, different coaches?

ROGALSKI: Yes. It's definitely seen a change. Also, I think now you're starting to see coaches have worked with different teams, so. Before it's, you're educating on, "This is what we can offer you," now it's, you're coming in with a set of preferences, or, "This is what I worked with previously, " so.

Y'know, more recently it's been coming in with a set of expectations for, "I know this works for me, is there anything you want to add or change or do whatever?" So, it's definitely, there has been a change.

OCAL: That's a great question, I want to generalise that, like, y'know whether it's a first-time coach like Marty St Louis, whether it's a Jim Montgomery, or a long tenured coach... Let me start with you, Meghan, like, from different experience levels of coaches, in the NHL or otherwise, how have you found their acceptance and how they use that in their daily jobs?

CHAYKA: And I think it can be background, too. You know, you, you're a math grad, you like numbers. Some people come from engineering. People come to coaching in so many different ways, so they have such a different way of approach and understanding and ease with it.

And I think that they can just implement it and know what's assumptions and what's noise and what's actually important to them and their job that they need to do. So I think it's just being realistic about your personnel.

But I will say that I've noticed, doing the Draft a lot, and at ESPN and working with Draft people in the CHL and doing a lot of Junior work, that young people now expect data. They want it, they want to take control of their own, whether it's a coach or a player coming up. So I'm seeing, like, the 25-and-under crowd.

It's not, "Do I, should I use analytics?" it's like, "Why aren't we using analytics? Why isn't my agent doing that for me? Why isn't my team doing that for me?"

And I think that, too, both empowers people working in tech but also empowers, like, the person who that data is being used to dictate their career, right? Giving them some control and oversight and insight into what they actually have to improve. So it's kind of, like, flipping it on the head a little bit.

OCAL: The paradigm is changing!

CHAYKA: Correct.

#media rec #p!res:stats #puck!research #p!res:analytics #p!res:coaches #puck!script

31 notes · View notes

celestialmatcha7 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey girly could you possibly write for Gemini and how him and his s/o met through a collaboration together with some friends ?

first encounters | gemini

pairing: gemini x fem! rapper! reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.1k

summary: when y/n performs at waterbomb with lee hwimin, gemini takes notice and asks her to collaborate in the studio. a blossoming connection unfolds between the two artists.

author's note: i had to do some research because i wasn't really familiar with him. once i did, i fell in love with his music and became a fan. highly recommend for more people to listen to him. to the person that requested, i hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for requesting. this was fun to write. <33

It all started at Waterbomb Festival, but not the way you’d think.

Yes, I was on stage, dripping wet, singing my heart out with my usual energy. But this time, I wasn’t just on stage for my solo set. I had the honor of performing alongside Lee Hwimin. He and I had worked together a few times before, and the crowd went wild as we dropped a track we’d been working on for weeks. The chemistry between us was electric—his producing skills and my vocals meshed perfectly. The crowd felt it, and we fed off the hype.

What I didn’t know at the time was that someone else in the crowd was paying very close attention.

That someone? Gemini.

I later found out that Gemini and Hwimin had been friends for years. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, bonded over music since high school, and had collaborated on various tracks over the years. Hwimin had always spoken highly of him—talked about Gemini’s laid-back nature, how he had this quiet confidence about him, and how his sound was unique and raw. But what he never mentioned? How the guy could get completely flustered around someone he was into.

I wouldn’t find that out until later.

A few days after the festival, I opened my DMs and saw a message from none other than Gemini himself.

“Hey, saw your performance with Hwimin at Waterbomb. You two killed it. I’ve been meaning to ask, would you be down to collab sometime? I think we’d vibe well 🤍 - Gemini”

It was simple, no fluff, no hype. Just straight to the point. And honestly? That’s what I liked. I shot him a message back, agreeing to meet up. He was professional, no beating around the bush. That kind of confidence was refreshing.

We set a date to meet at a studio.

The first time we met, it was... awkward. But in that charming, “we’re both professionals and this could work” kind of way.

Gemini walked into the studio with his usual calm demeanor—hoodie, slides, that quiet energy that made him seem like he wasn’t trying too hard, but still clearly had everything together. I was already there, going over some tracks, looking down at my phone to hide my nerves.

He greeted me with a simple “Hey” as he set down his bag. I returned the greeting and gave him a nod. Then we both stood there for a beat, not really sure what to do next.

“So… we start with the basics, or do you want to dive into ideas?” I asked, trying to keep things casual.

He smiled—just a little—and shrugged. “No rush. I think I’m good either way.”

We got to work, but the first hour was full of the usual “no, you go first” and awkward laughs when we kept cutting each other off. But slowly, as we started to play around with beats, things started clicking. He started layering his own ideas, then I’d add a few of mine. We bounced off each other in a way that felt natural, not forced.

It didn’t take long before we got comfortable—laughing over bad lyrics, remixing loops, and getting into the groove. I could see why Hwimin had always spoken so highly of him—he was a perfectionist in the best way. But he was also down-to-earth, no pretentiousness about him.

Over the next few weeks, we continued working together. Every session felt like it was getting easier, more fun. We’d spend hours building tracks, fine-tuning melodies, and getting into deep conversations about our favorite music, the industry, and everything in between.

But during one of the sessions, I noticed something—Gemini started acting a little... off. Not in a bad way, just... a little more flustered than usual. He’d glance at me when I wasn’t looking, his cheeks going a bit pink when I laughed at something he said. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was like he was holding back.

Then, one night, after we wrapped up another track, he did something unexpected.

“Hey, um... I was wondering…” he started, his voice a little quieter than usual, “If you’re free, would you want to go to an art museum with me? Like, as a date...?”

I blinked, not sure if I heard him correctly. He was nervous, and it was honestly kind of adorable.

I smiled, giving him an easy response. “Sure. Send me the details.”

The night of the date, I could tell Gemini was a little nervous when he picked me up. He showed up at my door, wearing a simple jacket and jeans, but there was this added nervous energy to him that made me smile. His eyes were a little wider than usual, and he kept glancing at me like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. When he opened the door for me, his gaze lingered just a second too long.

“You look…” he stammered, visibly flustered, “You look amazing.”

It was cute, the way he was trying not to let his feelings show, but I could see it. He was trying to keep it cool, but I could tell I had caught him off guard. And honestly, it made me like him even more.

The museum date was perfect. We walked through exhibits, exchanging thoughts on the art, making little jokes about the pieces we didn’t get, and stealing glances at each other when we thought the other wasn’t looking.

Somewhere between the sculptures and paintings, he quietly admitted that he had been into me since we first met through Hwimin. That he’d found something about me—how I carried myself, how focused I was on the music—really intriguing.

I told him the feeling was mutual. That his quiet confidence was something I admired. The chemistry was there, and it was undeniable.

By the end of the night, it wasn’t just the tracks we’d made that had me hooked—it was him.

Now? We’re still making music. Still creating together. And every time I hear one of our songs, I remember that first awkward meeting in the studio, the nervous date night, and how, somehow, it all just fit.

#gemini x reader #gemini x fem! reader #gemini scenarios #gemini imagines #gemini imagine #khh imagines #krnb imagines #khh scenarios #krnb scenarios #gemini

30 notes · View notes

sunny-knight · 6 days ago

Note

*blinks at you*

You make epic aus

Wanna talk about any of em? :3

OKAY SO

Thank you so much, first of all :3 and also THANK YOU SO MUCH- CAUSE I ACTUALLY HAVE COMPLETELY CHANGED MY UNDERTALE COPE AU AFTER CHAPTERS 3 AND 4, LIKE IT’S SO DIFFERENT AND- okay…

Im gonna separate my TADC and UT/DR AUs.

And because my TADC AUs are WAY shorter, they’ll go first

TADC

Ive said my peace on the Cope AU, not much else to add honestly…

But there is another one that I have, It’s called "temporarily demoted". The “plot” is pretty simple, Caine lost a bet with Bubble, and they have to swap places for 5 days.

That’s basically it- The main function it serves for me in my brain is exploring Caine and him discovering empathy through this experience, plus his relationship with Ragatha cause OMG THEY’RE SO SIMILAR

I also love imagining scenarios where Bubble ends up taking over and everyone has to work together to take him down (portal 2 reference/dialogue)

Thats basically all I have to say in terms of Digital Circus chicanery, time to get into the-

UNDERTALE DELTARUNE IM LOSING MY MIND AAAA

So basically I am completely retconning my original Cope AU because those are supposed to be completely pandering to me and me alone, and CHAPTER 3/4 GAVE ME NEW DESIRES FOR THESE CHARACTERS.

The original surrounded around the idea that Sans and Papyrus were ALWAYS really close, and is more or less a feel good story with a touch of angst tossed in for good measure. EVER SINCE THIS SHIT THOUGH-

Ive started really liking the idea that maybe Sans and Papyrus DIDN’T have that good of a relationship before, and after almost losing everything when they had to escape Deltarune for Undertale, Sans reevaluated a lot of things in his life.

…

So NOW my Cope AU is less fiction based than before, now having some actual merit behind it. Buuuutttt since im just here to tell the story, im not planning on explaining much of evidence- BUT IF YOU WANT IT ILL GLADLY MAKE A DEEP DIVE ON THAT STUFF!

I MIGHT EVEN DO THAT ANYWAY! WHO KNOWS!!!

…

Now FINALLY…the story…Once upon a time, grandpa semi died, yada yada, Sans took in Papyrus, it was a hard decision, all that remains the same. But this time, all that stress is getting to him, Sans is trying his best, but right now he’s honestly not being the greatest guardian for his brother. (JUST LIKE TORIEL :D).

(Also they’re a bit older, instead of Papyrus being like 10, he’s more around Kris’ age, 17-ish, while Sans is like late 20s, early 30s, cause IF HE WAS 18 LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL, THEN THAT JITTERBUG SCENE WOULD BE REALLY BAD 😭😭😭😭)

Papyrus is not doing very well because of yknow, his grandpa dying, but also the moving, and having a really hard time making friends/being understood. Sans alone is supporting his brother financially and emotionally, so, stressed. Also not doing too well. they’re just sort of drowning together right now.

Sans tries his best to get Papyrus to talk to people, inviting Kris over, but no matter what Papyrus is ADAMANT about not talking to anyone, which adds some frustration to Sans’ situation.

Skip to chapter 4/5, and Sans spent the night at Toriels house, drunk, when he wakes up and goes OH MY GOD and runs home, but the door is locked and Papyrus isnt answering the door. (They’ve only got one key- and its with Papyrus since he’s always home to let him inside. Sans was also hoping he’d take the opportunity and leave the house for a bit, but, yknow).

So anywho, Sans deduces that he’s pissed rn, which is- FAIR- so he just decides to attend the festival, then hopefully have a talk with him after, and apologize for not telling his brother where he was.

…Noteably when he tries to call Papyrus’ phone, its nothing but garbage noise

THAAAATS RIGHT :D While everyones out and about enjoying the festival, Dark Fountains are getting created in everyones homes assuming no one would NOT be at the festival!!! So THEN when everyone starts heading home, they discover and go OH NO!!!! WHAT IS THIS???

NOW TO TUNE IN ON SUSIE AND KRIS FOR A SEC! They’re like “for fuck sake”.

But before they even have time to panic, they take notice that Sans is talking frantically to Toriel, saying “MY BROTHER IS IN THERE 😭???” so ✨THE FUN GANG ✨ Goes on a little rescue mission like they did with Toriel :3

…

I hate to cut it there- but thats honestly all I have in terms of story. I HAVNT HAD ENOUGH TIME TO PONDER ON IT FOR 500 DAYS AND NIGHTS LIKE I DID THE LAST AU, JUST LET ME COOK

I have a lot of ideas. Too many ideas.

He’s so BirdBrain core.

i’ll check back in, in like a month

#papyrus #papyruspapyrus #i love papyrus #we love papyrus #TADC #Undertale #Deltarune

21 notes · View notes

katzkinder · 1 year ago

Text

Since Mukuro and Tsuna are still weirdly connected, Tsuna’s sometimes gotten glimpses of things he wasn’t ever supposed to, and vice versa on Mukuro’s end. He usually shoves Tsuna awake once he notices Tsuna’s accidentally plopped into one of his memories, but

If it’s one of Tsuna’s, he’ll let it play out without interruption. It’s never anything of note, anyhow, so expending energy to wake him would be pointless >liar mc liar face

Eventually this gets him more than he bargained for

There’s also a lot of stuff in Tsuna’s mind that, once he’s aware of it, it makes him go okay hold up

Because it’s not like he ever assumed that Tsuna was some happy go lucky idiot, but he also assumed he wasn’t actually thinking about much in that head of his he’s sure is more fluff than brains

Gokudera-kun is going to be disillusioned with me any day now. I’m grateful to him but I feel bad for somehow tricking him like this. I shouldn’t let him get too close but I don’t want to hurt him, either. What should I do? I’m sorry, Gokudera-kun. Please don’t hate me when you figure it out.

Yamamoto is such a nice person; he shouldn’t be stuck around someone like me. He’s like Kyoko-chan like that. Nice to everyone, even useless, no good me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fell in love with him. Of course the two nicest people in the whole school would date, right? I’m so worried about him… I don’t know how to handle the way he lights up when he sees me. What should I do? Don’t try and hurt yourself again. Don’t get hurt for my sake, either. I’m sorry I’m so weak…

Hibari-san doesn’t treat me differently from anyone else. He’s super scary but he still bothers to treat me like I’m normal. I think if even he began to act like I wasn’t worth his time I would seriously just give up and call it quits. Things have gotten so messed up. I’m relying on a psychopath like that kicking my ass to reassure me I still mean something. If even someone who values strength above all else still has hope for me what choice do I have?

Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go— It would be just like me to be so useless I beat the world’s greatest, huh?

The only words he ever found in relation to himself, and words that shake him to his core, are very simple ones

Please wait for me

One time, though, he managed to dive deep enough to find the source of Tsuna’s Dying Will, and he keeps going back despite knowing it’s a pointless, silly thing to do.

There are still the broken remnants of a cage around it. If he sits near it like this, he can almost pretend he isn’t in Vindicare. The cage is still red hot. He’ll burn his fingers if he tries to handle them. The flames reach out to him but don’t touch.

It is not a soft, warm home.

It is something which, if he allowed it to, would consume him right down to his marrow.

This is how Sawada Tsunayoshi has always survived

One day he sees that flame guttering, and he feels panic swell in his throat, because what could possibly, after all this time, be dimming that roaring inferno

There’s ice at the base now

Tsuna made a binding vow to destroy Vongola, that rotten, shambling corpse of a man’s ideals puppeteered by someone with a face a lot like his.

He knows better than anyone that when you make that kind of vow, if you don’t fulfill it… There are consequences.

The mafia has practically deified Vongola Primo’s will into its own separate entity.

The ring, rebuilt and no longer fit for any other, past or future, weighs cold on a young boy’s finger, demanding he make good on his promise

Mukuro wants to destroy the mafia. He’ll get his wish. He’ll make sure of it.

Sawada Tsunayoshi… Is too kind for that life, anyhow.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #mukuro rokudo #sawada tsunayoshi #6927

122 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 2 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Author’s Note: as w/ all headcanons, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Himejima Gyomei x Reader

Word Count: ~2,800

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, mast!rbation, oral, size difference

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Gyomei’s aftercare is very loving and very simple. You can generally expect a quick rubdown with a warm washcloth, a cool glass of water (tea if/when he has the energy), and a soft kiss to your forehead. He adores curling around you after you’ve fallen asleep, murmuring about how wonderful you (and the sex) was as he drifts off. If you don’t like being spooned, then he’s happy to wait until you get comfy, and then improvises a position that doesn’t crowd you, but is still suitable for aforementioned murmurings of sweet nothings.

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Gyomei absolutely adores your cheeks (not those ones 😆). How squishy they feel when you grin, how warm they feel after you orgasm, and how lewd they feel with his cum on them; he’d do anything to hear you giggle—pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger—and always goes the extra mile to ensure they’re hot to the touch after fucking you. ☺️

From listening to Gyomei’s heartbeat, hand slipped underneath his shirt to scratch lightly at his tiny patch of chest hair; to digging your fingernails into his sternum as you ride him, crescents indenting his skin, your movements gradually slowing, needy mewl barely spilling from your lips before he’s gripping your hips, forearms flexed and ready to bounce you on his cock. From gently patting his bum while he’s brushing his teeth, giggling when he raises an amused eyebrow; to gripping his ass, low whine caught in your throat as he fucks the air out of your lungs, trying to tell him T-too deep even as you guide his thrusts further and harder into your cunt, reasonable thoughts i.e. I can barely breathe replaced by cockdrunk whimpering i.e. G-gyomei, pleasepleasep-please! His chest and ass are both Netflix 🥰 and chill 😏 worthy.

Cum?

While cumming on your face is HOT (Gyomei loves the contrast of how slick and filthy his cum feels on your skin as he traces the outline of your smile), he often manages to get some in your eye(s) 😬, so he tends to opt for your stomach instead. He gets the same satisfaction of feeling his cum slip and squelch, without the guilt of imagining your red, irritated eye(s). That being said, you don’t even have to beg to get him to cum on your face; a breathy, “Please baby, cum on my face,” will do the trick every time.

Dirty Secret? shh

Wants to make you cry (during sex, of course). 🫢 Not from pain, but from the sheer ecstasy and overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly filled with and surrounded by him. A fragment of Gyomei always holds back while fucking you, because he’s well aware of his size, and sheathing even just half of himself in your pussy is enough to make him tear up. But to make you cry? To feel your tears wetting his thumbs as he caresses your cheeks? To hear your breathy moans of F-fuck and S-so much and G-gyomei, c-can feel you e-everywhere… What he would give to taste the salty sweetness of your love for his cock as he thrusts himself in till his groin is flush and hot against your pelvis.

Experience? their level of experience

Initially, Gyomei’s inexperienced—and somewhat timid about testing the waters—but he’s willing to dip his toe in, then his ankle, and then dive in deep for you. He considers experience to be less about how much he’s done or explored, and more about how well he knows you. So what if he’s never tried impact play or anal? He knows where to stroke to hear you gasp, where to nibble to hear you giggle, and when to hesitate to hear you whimper — surely that’s all the experience he needs? Albeit, he isn’t necessarily a natural, and definitely appreciates lots of praise and reassurance to guide him; sex is a journey, not a race. 🩶

Favorite Position?

Gyomei LOVES when you ride him. ☺️ It’s easier for you to set the pace, allows you to take as much or as little of him as you feel up to, and he’s got the forearms and biceps to bounce you for days should your thighs ever give out. Along with logistical ease, he revels in the moments when you tire, your tits smooshing into him as you collapse atop his sweaty chest, soft huffs and moans caressing his collarbones while he fucks into you. Your fingertips cling needily to his sides, strong arms cradling and rocking you — a tender embrace in stark contrast to the lewd squelch of your hole clenching greedy and swollen around him.

Goofy? their sense of humor

He isn’t the ~funniest guy during sex, but Gyomei isn’t exactly serious either. He’s passionate and fluid; focused more so on your pleasure and feeling close to you than anything else. When any fumbles, queefs, or farting occur, he’s sure to let out a good natured chuckle, and perhaps even a gentle teasing remark (usually toward bad smelling toots haha), but then he’s straight back into getting your toes to curl, your laughter trailing off in favor of gasping for breath.

Hair? pubes maintenance

Shaving isn’t the easiest task for him, but Gyomei understands a mouthful of hair isn’t usually desirable when going down on someone. 😅 Therefore, he trusts you with the soap and razor, inwardly praying that you don’t accidentally knick his balls throughout the process. 🙃

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

To Gyomei, sex isn’t a chore, routine, or even an adventure; it’s the closest thing to heaven, a drop of water in a desert, as dear to him as a kiss on the forehead. His intimacy shines through, not in rose petals on the bed or candles flickering in a darkened, sultry bedroom, but in keeping the lights on so you can see him better. In telling you precisely how wonderful you feel. In urging you to vocalize your pleasure, your discomfort, your trust in him. To Gyomei, intimacy is a verb — a conscious act of bonding, losing, and finding oneself.

Jack Off? masturbation

Masturbation is often far from Gyomei’s mind; he’s more likely to enjoy mutual masturbation than touch himself alone. He doesn’t abstain out of fear or shame, and in fact experiences boners at a relatively normal rate i.e. in the morning, at random moments throughout the day, and at night if sleep eludes him — he simply doesn’t feel an aching need to relieve himself of physical lust, and prefers to allow it to subside naturally.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Gyomei doesn’t explicitly nor consciously consider himself to have a size kink, but there is something thrilling about how ragged and breathless you sound with half of his cock sheathed in your pussy — let alone all of him. He’s fond of your fingernails, tiny crescent indents etched into his skin as he works himself into you, hips steady and patient, lest he accidentally hurt you from moving too quickly. And when you whimper lowly, words slow to surface, gaze shimmering with both pleasure and pain, “G-gyomei, you’re s-so big, f-fuck! S’t-too much!” it’s all he can do to refrain from nudging your legs further apart, anxious to watch his cock bully itself into your swollen, pulsating heat. Of course, he checks in to ensure he isn’t actually too much for you, reassurances honeyed and soft—“You’re doing so well for me, my love. Just a little more to go.”—despite the relentless push of his tip and blatant lie (there’s a lot more to go 😵‍💫). Once his hips are flush against your ass (a process that takes upward of five minutes, and plenty of lube), he presses a hot, greedy palm to your lower abdomen, searching for the telltale sign that he’s truly filled your aching hole to its brim, groaning quietly when he feels just how deeply he penetrates you… sooo he totally has a size kink.

Location? where they prefer to have sex

In bed. Specifically yours, his, or the bed you share (if you live together). It’s sturdy, familiar, and accommodates you both (Gyomei’s 7’2” aka ~218cm, so you’d need a sizeable car/shower/couch/etc for other locations to be anywhere near as convenient or comfortable as a bed).

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Hard work and knowing when to ask for help. On one hand, Gyomei’s strongly attracted to those who seek to earn what they’re given. This doesn’t necessarily mean someone who’s overly ambitious, or even someone who’s constantly productive — it’s more so an appreciation for the inherent gratitude and humbleness of those who don’t take anything for granted. It may sound silly, but simply hearing you talk about your day, your dreams, what you’ve accomplished and what you’re still working on, can get him going, “That sounds wonderful, darling. I’m proud of you!” <— as he not so subtly begins kissing along the back of your shoulders and neck. On the other hand, he’s also a giver and protector, and is more than willing to go down on you, make love to you, kiss you until you’re boneless and finally tired, “Let me help you, my heart. You can fall apart with me, I’m here for you.” <— as he coaxes another trembling orgasm from you, his hand slotted determinedly between your thighs, fingers curling filthy, delicious noises from your cunt, your back leaned cozy and safe into his chest, his legs caging your body in a warm, sensual haze. Getting to both reward your hard work, as well as support you through difficult, painful, sad, and/or slow times is certainly pleasurable for Gyomei, and not just sexually.

No? turn offs

Gyomei isn’t a huge fan of verbal degradation or physically rough sex. He finds the sensuality and overstimulating aspects of sex more than enough—Look at me, my love, look at me as I stretch out your pussy… hm, opening your gorgeous mouth for me? It’s too much? You’re so beautiful—without adding aggressive verbal/physical intensity. Besides, the girth and length of his cock more than make up for his disinclination toward faster and harsher thrusts — you’re already being split in two, regardless of how quickly it happens. 😉

Oral? giver or receiver

While primarily a giver—Gyomei’s never felt so vulnerable and weak and happy to die than when he’s suffocating between your thighs—there’s something special about watching you flick your tongue around the tip of his cock, his precum shiny on your lips as you smile at him. “Enjoying yourself?” he rasps, light fingers carding through your hair, following the rhythm of your licks. “Mhm,” you giggle fondly, blowing warm air along his shaft, “You’re so pretty.” He groans softly at your compliment, his cheeks pink as he tugs at your hair, beckoning you upward for a kiss, “C’mere darling, let me taste myself.”

Pace?

Slow and steady wins the race, and no micro tears is a bonus! 😂 If you beg, “Please Gyomei, please fuck me faster, please, please, I’m begging you,” then he miiight hurry by 0.00001% of his current pace 😃, but he’s just not in a rush — to the point of dissolving you into impatient, needy whines (and he lowkey lives for your whining 😌).

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Sorry not sorry, but Gyomei’s too large for quickies to be realistic (unless you want to be in genuine pain later). If you’re fine with literally just the tip, then he can work something out, but otherwise? Nah. Not to mention, the art of the quickie tends to lack the slow drag and intimacy that he so deeply craves.

Risk? their risk tolerance

Gyomei’s risk tolerance… well… he’s got very little. 😆 He knows he’s more than capable of protecting you from any undesirable consequences, but he’d rather avoid having to shield your naked body from startled eyes in the first place. If, however, you initiate risky behavior (i.e. stroking his thigh in a calculating manner while dining out for dinner), then he’ll play along… usually ending with him slamming way more bills than necessary on the table, and then passionately ushering you out of the restaurant. 😏

Stamina?

As long as he doesn’t cum, Gyomei’s stamina is through the roof. BUT, the moment he cums, it’s over — don’t expect an immediate round two. He’s more than happy to help you continue cumming with his fingers or tongue, but intercourse itself is no longer on the table. Fortunately, his tells are pretty obvious—I’m going to cum soon is about as obvious as it gets—and he never minds being edged ~a lil if it means prolonging your pleasure and enjoyment.

Toys?

Gyomei’s fine with you owning toys, and loves perusing for new items and treats with you, but he prefers for you to use them only when he’s unavailable. He treasures the process of preparing, stretching, and warming your body for his cock with his own two hands, ten fingers, and one tongue, and introducing lifeless materials into the fray just doesn’t appeal to him. That being said, if you decide to spend the day with a vibrator in your underwear or a butt plug to expediate the evening’s agenda… he’s not going to complain. 😌

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Gyomei doesn’t consider himself a tease, although his preferred pacing often makes it feel like he does, nor does he care much for being teased. If you want him, then you want him. If you don’t, then you don’t. He knows teasing isn’t actually a game, and he isn’t turned off or offended by it — it’s just a little confusing for him at times. 😅

Volume?

Soft groans and adoring filth at a volume ~just loud enough for you to process. Sometimes Gyomei’s voice will raise slightly, but never sharpen in tone, and only because you’re too cockdrunk to hear him otherwise, and he needs you to hear him. He needs you to hear how desperately and sweetly he desires you; needs you to hear how complete and gone you get him; the faint tremor in his voice telling you just how incredible and indulgent your pussy feels. A low groan buried in the softness of your shoulder, his cock sunk halfway into your heat, large hands gripping your waist with unbearable tenderness as he murmurs Gosh I missed this, missed you so much, so so much. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your cunt. Probably both.

Wild Card?

Gyomei’s senses are so fine tuned that he doesn’t exactly get the point of sense deprivation for himself, but he’ll blindfold you every so often (with your consent, of course) — an action that emphasizes and heightens the precision and intensity of how he makes love to you. You always wonder if he feels the same way as you do, goosebumps raising on your breasts as he slowly swirls his tongue around your nipple, or if he’s so accustomed to darkness and familiar with your movements that few things you do can surprise him. Regardless, he can certainly surprise you, a soft whimper floating between you as he begins gently sucking on the underside of your jaw, steady fingers lifting your head to grant him better access to your warm skin.

X-ray?

Gyomei is Big™. Approximately 10 inches when fully erect with a squishy, bulbous tip and balls proportionally large and heavy. They’re difficult to fit in your mouth; you’ve definitely tried, and nearly accidentally chomped ‘em due to laughing at the impossibility of the mission. His cock isn’t necessarily aesthetic (thanks to its size, it’s lowkey more monstrous than pretty 🥴), but it’s visually stunning (~stunning as in, Ohmyfuck how am I gonna fit that in my vagina?! 😭).

Yearning? sex drive

Gyomei’s sex drive is consistent. ☀️ He appreciates getting to have sex at least once a week, but doesn’t need more than twice to feel fulfilled. If you initiate, then he’ll rarely decline, albeit he may request to stick to foreplay and your orgasms if you initiate multiple days in a row (with great cock comes great responsibility; with such a big battery he needs ample time to properly recharge 🪫🔋😂).

Zzz?

Gyomei stays up quite a while after you’ve fallen asleep post coitus, usually reading (Braille)/listening to an audio book, or simply and literally staring at you. 👀 He’s certainly tired and always sated, but prefers easing into post nut clarity — more of a slow fade to ~reality versus a jolting switch from being Horny™ to Not Horny™. If you’re having trouble falling asleep, then he’s more than content to partake in pillowtalk, whether it be about how the sex was, what your plans are for the next day, or planning your future engagement and wedding (assuming you desire marriage). 💞

#gyomei himejima #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #himejima x reader #stone hashira #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

606 notes · View notes