#and he KNOWS it ! that's why he must EXPRESS it T~T | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cleo-fox · 1 year ago

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Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?” he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later.

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases ��throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh.

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly.

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar.

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say.

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee.

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader

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yanderenightmare · 5 months ago

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Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, noncon, virgin reader, corruption kink, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Thinking about Demon King Sukuna and how he receives a virgin for his harem every new moon. Most are unfortunate townspeople who’ve come of age—but you’re something he can savor even more, something truly special.

The silk kimono you’d been dressed in is easily ripped from your body, leaving you bare. You’d been warned not to fight or run, that he’d only sooner kill and eat you—but you keep your faith and try and escape anyway.

All your life, the temple has taught you of Ryomen Sukuna—that he’s a harbinger of carnage and death. You’d feel better offering your life to the Gods than allowing it to remain captive by the likes of evil.

He only grabs and manhandles you with nothing more but a sadistic laugh, catching your hair in a fist as he pulls you up until only the tips of your toes are left grazing the floors—and even then, he has to bow nearly half his length before he’s leveling your eyes with his.

“My patience is a fickle thing, turtledove. Run again, and I’ll treat it like a real hunt. Which would be a real shame… I so hate spilling holy blood before I’ve made it filthy with sin.”

You're thrown onto a large round bed next. It catches you with a bounce while he crawls after you, taking hold of both your ankles and swiftly pulling you beneath him.

His chest is marked with demonic seals, and so is his face, where he looms above you with a deranged smile. Raking his claws up your legs and thighs, he spreads and pushes them flat against the bed while his other two hold your crying face, cupping your cheeks with both thumbs hooking into the wet of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you sob. When he shows you his and its black markings, you scream, feeling as though he’s pouring poison down your throat as he feeds you its length and knots it with yours.

You choke and sob while you share each other’s spit, feeling tarnished and forsaken by all that you held sacred—wondering why the heavens would allow this to happen as the weight of his manhood finds rest between your thighs, upon your mound and tummy, where it grows fat and warm.

His hands leave your face and switch places with the other two, freeing them for what he plans on doing next. Wrapping one around himself, he gives it languid tugs while soaking in the sight of your poor little cunt trembling in fear of something it only barely knows what is. His other hand pets it soothingly in mockery, tickling the slit, making you shake.

His stomach then splits open like a cut, baring teeth and a tongue that only earns your horrified expression—crying as it drools over you, jutting out to lick the tender place you so wished had remained untouched. You whine in shudders as he squeezes your throat and bares down over you, staring at you with keen bromine eyes, amused with your fall from grace as you come undone.

“You taste sweet,” he moans against your lips while his other mouth slurps at your core, also groaning.

You’re naïve for thinking it’s over where you blink away tears, but he doesn’t blame you. They never teach you the truth in temples, only childish lies that leave you ever vulnerable to the outside world and ever sweeter for him to ruin.

“I apologize for clipping your wings, angel. But I must say… depravity suits you better.”

Nothing. Not a prayer or plea leaves your lips as he tears through and fills you up. Only a choked gasp that dies midway. You bite into your lip, squeezing your eyes shut—ready to accept a death that never comes. Instead, there’s a living hell, and you can only scream as it consumes you.

Your whimpering is delicious, caught beneath him, panting every time his hips snap forth and storm your clingy insides, gushing for him like he knew you would be—sweetly surrendering all your worship to him and honoring him as your new god.

Perhaps he won’t feast on your flesh once he’s done as cute as you are. He wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a bit. Teach you how to serve him properly. Paint you with his seals. Make you his favorite pet.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

#yandere sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna ryomen #yandere sukuna #yandere ryomen sukuna

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samodivaa · 6 months ago

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permeated by jealously

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Summary: In your tight-fitting red dress, you look ravishing for the date with a Russian guy—but the moment you retort to Bucky in Russian, it begs to be ripped from your body.

Warnings: smut, angst, kitchen sex, rough/possessive, unprotected p in v, miscommunication Words: 4k

Bucky's veins are full of the serum, but at this moment, they are full with belladonna tincture, the substance of jealousy. Seeing you with another man, he speaks of Love in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him—that guy coming to pick you up from the compound, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, already a memory. For a split second you stare at each other, you smile at him ruefully. A fleeting, lasting moment for Bucky. Why do you even notice him? Seeing you happy, gives mixed colors to the air of the moment—he is lost in time, sleeping being his only lover.

Bucky wants to kiss you. Instead he puts his lips on the tumbler glass, pretending that it is you. His t-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he runs a hand through his hair before he puts the glass down on the kitchen counter—flashes of you in that dress that you wear for your date and the way it lifts your body up from a single look races through his head.

His cock jerks and he shakes his head, grinning as he stares down the bottle of vodka next to his cup.

And, for the first time in his innocent and confined life, he senses in himself a potential for a different corruption that takes his breath away. He doesn’t blame himself. He is a curious, wanting thing—finally, enlightened and free, but also lustful and carnal. But It stabs at him, almost like a physical pain, and he feels both deprived and angry, deprived because Bucky wishes to be with you and angry, because his own choices causes him misery. ----- “It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I just wake up into another nightmare."

"And what is that nightmare, Bucky?" He keeps his blue, lusterless eyes fixed on Natasha with a calm but warm and kindly expression in them as he thinks how to say it "My love life” “Maybe you need to ask her on a date, that’s what Vladimir does”

“Vladimir? Oh , so it is not just 'that one guy' anymore?” he says in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, his lips quivering as a forced smile comes on to his face. Nat momentarily startles. Then she starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of him?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m not jealous,” a note of personal affront creeps into his voice “I don’t like his name” ----- You are on a date, having fun—but anxiety grabs his mind, it is self-perpetuating. Worrisome thoughts reproduce faster than rabbits, he is trying not to lose his balance. Not yet. Especially when the jealousy sets in.

Bucky is conscious every moment in himself of many, many elements positively swarming in him, ah these, opposite elements. He knows that they have been swarming in him since you started going out with Vladimir and they are craving some outlet from him, but he doesn't let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out, because he believes there is nothing so self-destroying, and so despicable, as his jealousy. He tries to appear as a hard shell on the outside when you finally enter the kitchen at 1 am—while there is a runny mess on the inside as he tenses, waiting for you to say something, anything. When you near the sink, your fingers find the curve of the faucet, the metal cool beneath the touch. He turns around to lean against the counter as you pour a cup of cold water. Bucky stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. He is in such an irritated frame of mind, because of your quietness that in rude and abrupt fashion he blurts out the words: “You must love that dress”

He takes time persing down the length of your body as you take a step back, watching you press against the counter and then back up before locking on your eyes again. You are not wearing a bra and your nipples harden from having his eyes on you. Red, the front needlessly too scandalous—at least for Bucky. The dipping v lets him see the swelled sides of your breasts pushed up and together. Just to be sure, though, a golden necklace with a teardrop pearl at the end, letting it trail just over your cleavage.

“I didn’t know that you notice what I am wearing when I go out”

You answer, trying to look as innocent as possible. The vindictive smile that stretches on your ruined lipstick sends shivers down Bucky’s spine—did you make out with the guy, maybe more than that? You look beautiful sitting there looking at him like a she-cat. All he has to do is look at you, and he lusts. He wants to take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to go out with anyone else ever again.

“You’ve worn it for the second time. For your date.”

His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. You notice the disgust written on his face and you laugh coldly, gaze never leaving his buff frame. With the certainty that you have well and truly punished him for not asking you on a single date. The angry, feral part of you feels so close to the surface that you can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. You want to lick the scratches you’ve made on him. You want to scratch him until he breaks apart. You gulp down the rest of your water to ease the heat flaming across your skin. Then you lick your lips. His gaze tracks the movement. You think you stopped breathing.

“His name is Vlad”

An audacious expression plasters on his face as you sigh in irritation at Bucky, rolling your eyes. Bucky is still leaning against the counter and rests his metal hand on the countertop while sipping vodka from the mug in his other hand. A beautiful yet deadly ornament—vibranium has no business being as hot as it is on him.

A note of personal affront creeps into his voice “Vladimir, mhm”

“What else have you noticed about me?” your grin becomes a touch leery, innocently cocking your head to the side.

“Try me” he says softly.

“Favorite color?” you ask, interrogatively.

He chuckles “Red”

“Favorite quote?”

Your brows lift, anticipation making your nerves sing. You are not sure what he is about to say, but you have the feeling that it will be the right one, your heart leaps at the thought.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid” he answers, this time winking at you “I know everything about you, sweetheart” he adds and you feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

His mind works well when it comes to his work as an avenger, hovering on hummingbird wings, but when it comes to you, especially when you purposely play with his jealousy, It finds a way to push through any seal of his mind, his expressions are always an array of masks he uses to cover it up his emotions—but now, it is all over his face, pure surrender, because he is affected and you can tell, he is staring impudently at you, awning for your response.

“I prefer kotyonok. Vlad says that cognac and wine is all for the heart and that vodka is for the soul. If it's hurting real bad and you’ve never had vodka before”

His brows lift, because this does surprise him and his stomach tightens at that particular Russian word. His mouth curls into a small snarl at the thought of that stupid man calling you that. A pang of jealousy surges through him. The bad kind. The kind of longing that makes him wonder that there must be a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill. He clears his throat, his face souring before his mocking tone grates:

“Looks like you know a thing or two about me, too”

He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but jealousy is too much, even for Bucky. He settles back into himself, shaking whatever momentary emotion flitted over his face and replacing it with a confident aura that screams laid back and in control as he cages you to the counter, his flesh hand still holding his half full cup. Your throat gurgles slightly, looking at the bigger frame towering you through your lashes like the starved woman you are. You are overwhelmed by his bold move, leaving you both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion here—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. You try to ignore his hard cock pressing against your thigh, your attention remains on his face. You feel drunk without a drink, your nerves tighten, making your muscles clench―this is going exactly how you want. You want him to kiss you. But you make sure to keep your facial features mundane and level. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you have a crush on me, Bucky” You also ignore the annoying, visible blush on your cheeks, he must have noticed it because his expression goes grim for a second before a surprised laugh almost breaks free from his lips, responding only by a clink of his tumbler against yours. Judging by the rumble that vibrates in his chest, he likes your reaction, though the noise ends on a cynical note. His blue eyes drop to your mouth, warmth pours through your body and you moisturize your lips as he presses his knee between your legs. Right against your clit—you breathe out, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine while Bucky just tips his glass back the last of vodka, allowing the burn to sear his throat and warm his stomach—while casually grinding his leg slowly against you, creating a sensation that has heat winding through your core and shooting down your legs. “Na zdorovie” (cheers) You smile venomously with a kind of joyous sigh, your arrogance in this moment makes you feel very confident. Up to this moment possessiveness has not been that much of a torment, now it suddenly gnaws at his heart. As in slow motion, he pulls back to put both glasses on the counter. He realizes that you do something to him. Every time. It’s your only detriment this past month. To step on his heart—to test his feelings for you, and his jealousy already has made him erupt like a volcano. He has never been jealous before he met you. It burns. Some nights, watching you go with other men on missions, even that drives him mad.

“You and that fucking mouth, kotyonok” His voice sounds ill-natured, bitter, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the ways that you are trying to provoke him, but his tone shifts at the last word. Voice warm and low. Intimate. You like it this way. You like the way it sounds and it makes you gasp. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” Your character has absolutely changed. It is an entirely new and hitherto unknown being who now stands and stares at him somewhat lovingly. There is evidently, he concludes, something at work here, some storm of the mind, some paroxysm of emotion which he won’t question. When you say nothing, his hands move to your waist, his vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire. You let out a deep breath and can’t deny the strange elation you feel when you feel his hands, needing more of it, of his touch. Your pussy contracts as his hands reach around, gripping a handful of your ass, forcing you harder against his both body and leg. The grip is both bruising and possessive, controlling every movement. “Oh, god-” You open your mouth, and Bucky dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. Satisfaction sparks in his irises and he tilts his head and keeps watching you with those fucking lethal eyes of his. Bucky gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely lifts at the corners. You feel a very small spark to your ego, knowing you are getting a rise out of him. But all of the playfulness in the air drowns beneath the intensity of his thousand shades of blue dancing in his eyes as if he is peeling back your mental layers, his eyes looking down watching the bare length of thigh that shows through the slit in your dress.

“You and these dresses” he groans. Whether you want to admit it or not, physically, this man affects you more than anyone else ever has, and that causes panic to percolate through every nerve, you feel like you are losing control, but you don’t mind it. You feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at his mercy at this point. Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, but his jealousy is combined with modesty and there's even something touching about the filthy words coming out of his mouth. He wants you—and finally, he is not afraid to both tell and show it.

“Ya ne mogu vyrazit', kak sil'no ty menya zavodish'” (I can’t explain to you how much you turn me on) Your lips part and you swallow audibly while he has the most delicious visual of his dick slipping between them, your eyes staring up at him in surprise and that sweet tongue running along the shaft. He surges forward, your face is an inch from his when you breathe out, he breaths in before crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing his lips to yours. It is not a sweet kiss. It is hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of weeks of pent-up frustration and tension. His mouth is hungry and insistent, his tongue probing your lips, asking for greater intimacy. You grant it, tongues swirling together, yours follow his when it retreats and tasting his in return. When he finally pulls back, he rests his hands on your hips, and stares into your eyes for a minute.

“Tvoy zapakh s uma menya svodit” (your scent drives me crazy)

He speaks without haste, controlling himself so well, yet there is something in his voice, determined and euphoric, resentful and insolently defiant. Passion smolders in his eyes as he traces the line of your clavicle with his index flesh finger, pausing for only a fraction of a second. And then you become aware of all the magnificent silk wrapping around your body, you have the feeling that you might drown in his eyes, his two drops of winter rain. “I would love to make love to you, but not tonight” He studies your face, pleading silently for your approval, searching for the smallest sign, the slightest movement of your brow, the vaguest reddening of your cheeks, the surprise of your eyes. At that moment, your soul clenches as well as your pussy. The hard dick still pressing into you distracts you from replying. You can feel your panties dampening. And your nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching as they pucker against the material of your dress. Your chest warms, desire winding like a rope around your core. You think you like Bucky this way. A smile shows on your face. This would be invisible to any, but the closest scrutiny—Bucky has noticed it and taken it for his sign. Then he leans forward and presses his lips once more, his sugar roughness, his possessiveness is what you need to finally feel. “What did you do when you went out?” “We had a few drinks. We danced.” you reply, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. His lip quivers slightly, forcing himself to seem calm, but Bucky’s eyes are sparkling irefully, there is no doubt in his expression the full success of your endeavors to make him even more detested. “You danced with him?” he asks, with sudden vivacity. “Well, he is my date” You murmur, trying to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, you sense a physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of your own heart, which beats visibly and audibly under the excess of agitation—but before you can even manage to open your mouth again, his metal fingers grab the front of your gown and pull it until it tears, no matter how beautiful, it was meant for another man—perfect breast on display just for him, his cock pulses at the sight. His touch tickles you on his way up to your boobs, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his palms. “Tony’s rules include no sex in the common areas” “Fuck the rules” he grits out, more animal than you have ever heard from a human. And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet—with the filthy touch of his hands, that unexpected warmth rushes through you. His thumbs run over the hardened peaks, making you moan and his dick is so stiff that he is worried that he might come. “Ty moya” he says coolly. (you are mine)

He leans in, his voice a rumble in your ear. “Moy kotyonok” (my kitten)

Bucky moves, gripping the meat of your thighs before he spins you harshly around and bends you over the counter. Your walls are squelching around nothing as you feel him pull back, murmuring something in Russian, it is sinful—and pleasurable, drawing a muffled whimper from your mouth as you hear him tear apart your panties. You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you hear his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs before pressing his body against yours until every inch of him melds into you one more. Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin and forces your head back while the other closes around your throat as his cock presses against you—chills slide up your spine, arousal sending a shot of adrenaline through your center as you feel pre-cum on your naval. Fuck, he is huge. There is a certain satisfaction in manhandling you into this position, the flesh arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him.

"How about we make a deal? You wear dresses for me and I take you out on dates?” He rambles against your ear, tongue slipping out to taste you, just a little bit. His cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead with his metal hand, gliding through your delicate folds and returning his cold grasp around your chin. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you with ease, your wetness sucking him in, making it easy for him to thrust into you until he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel good”

Bucky moans quietly as his eyes close, focusing on feeling your cunt wrapping around his dick for the first time. His lips stay silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands hold, the way he fucks you. You want to see his face, but you can only imagine how perfect he looks.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. It is sick and twisted, he has long learned to run from what he feels and wants, that's why he has nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control. And he needs to take control over something for once in his life. You. He has lost control over everything, even the places in his head. When your moans become too loud, his hand closes around your neck, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length.

“Come for me, drench my dick”

He whispers, fucking his cock against your cervix. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath as you struggle to breathe. Jealousy…teeth dragging against your skin, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples, shooting up and down your spine as his thrusts never falter, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb.

Lust is the best of all the deadly sins, you realize as he pulls out and helps you go back on your shaky feet. It all happened too fast. You only wanted a kiss. You push his chest like you want him off of you, but your fingers have Bucky’s shirt clutched in them and he knows you are full of shit. You want him.

“I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don't.” The timbre of his voice goes into that low register that makes your insides curl in on themselves. You want that tongue to swipe your sex like licking the frosting off a cupcake. It is the sexual chemistry you want more of. It is electric. But guilt sets in. You are feeling torn between your commitment to building a relationship with Vlad while engaging with Bucky, in a way it feels like cheating. A part of you is hoping someone from the team would wake up and catch you, so you wouldn't have to live with this lie. But no one wakes up and in the silence that follows, you understand the nature of your new curse: you are going to get away with it. Your silence hurts him, his mouth tightens. But there are some wounds that he can heal only by deepening them and making them worse. And yet, sometimes facts are no more than pitiful consequences, Bucky knows how the public will perceive you if you are dating the former Winter Soldier. Seeing you standing there unresponsive makes him realize that silence has a sound—he knows that you regret sleeping with him. You are the people's favorite Avenger, the one everyone look up to with admiration and reverence—he is sure that you are thinking about it, but he understands. The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put his finger on—and he should be sad, but instead, he feels nothing. He feels a lot of nothing these days. He is empty, as if whatever makes him feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving him hollowed out like a shell. This is for your happy ever after, Vlad might be a stupid Russian, but he is at the very core of his existence—a real human. He turns around and paces the room, as if he can leave his regret, you, behind. But it cracks you as you see him walk away, leaving you naked like an ugly shadow made by himself. You have mistaken his lust for love. Regret. It turns into anger, into hatred. And where there is anger there is always pain underneath. You eventually come to understand that in harboring the anger, the bitterness and resentment towards Bucky who has hurt you, you are giving the reins of control over to him—maybe It’s time to finally say “yes” to being Vlad’s girlfriend.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier

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kaiser1ns · 3 months ago

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#. CATS AND CUDDLES

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. kaji ren, takiishi chika, sakura haruka, umemiya hajime, togame jo, kiryu mitsuki, suo hayato, endo yamato

fluff. and you thought your boyfriend couldn't get any more cuter, but him with your cat was another definition of the word adorable.

KAJI REN

Kaji arrived at your house while you were still at school, his hand reaching out to his hoodie on the chair. He needed it since all his others were in the wash. But as he turned to open a new lollipop, he glanced back at the chair—and the hoodie was gone.

“What the...” he muttered, looking around in confusion. He saw the hoodie again, this time on your bed. As he approached, it seemed to move of its own accord, sliding off the bed and onto the floor. His eyes widened as it began to scuttle around between his legs.

He rubbed his eyes, certain the lollipop's ingredients must be playing tricks on him. But there was no mistaking it—the hoodie was running away from him! “Just what candy did you give me, Y/N?” he muttered, shaking his head as he took off after the ghost.

He chased it through the apartment, his heart racing with both confusion and amusement. The hoodie darted around corners and through rooms with surprising agility. Kaji, determined to catch it, stumbled and finally managed to grab it. Panting, he looked down, only to see your cat emerging from under the hood, stretching lazily. "Meow."

Kaji blinked at the cat, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Don’t tell Y/N about this,” he said, knowing full well that the cat couldn’t talk. But in a world where hoodies could run away, he wasn’t taking any chances.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You invited him over, hoping for a quiet evening indoors away from everyone and everything, especially away from Endo. The mood was perfect until your cat decided to make it's presence known.

Chika had always claimed he hated cats, but yours was determined to change his mind. Circling his legs, brushing against them and meowing softly. Each time, your boyfriend would gently push her away, his expression growing more annoyed by the second.

"I'm just going to grab some drinks. Be right back," you said, kissing his cheek and leaving the room.

When you returned five minutes later, you stopped dead in your tracks. The red-head sat on the couch, his usual grumpy face adorned with slightly narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. Yet, his hand was gently stroking your pet who purred contentedly in his lap.

"Having fun?" you teased, a smile tugging at your lips as as your eyes were filled with adoration, your boyfriend and your cat were so cute. Chika's eyes flicked up to meet yours, "She wouldn't leave me alone," he muttered, but the way his hand continued to pet the kitten told a different story.

"Sure, she wouldn't," you replied, setting the drinks down on the coffee table. "I wouldn't leave you alone even if you wanted me to."

"Really," he insisted, but there was no venom in his tone. Instead, there was a hint of something softer, almost fond. You sat down next to him, reaching over to give your cat a scratch behind the ears. "Looks like she's warming up to you." Chika huffed, but his fingers continued their gentle movements, running through the soft fur. "She's persistent..."

"Just like someone else I know," you said, nudging him playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't stop petting the cat. "Don't compare me to a cat."

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Why not? You're both stubborn and adorable."

SAKURA HARUKA

You wrap your arms around Sakura, feeling him stiffen slightly before he relaxes into your embrace. He’s still getting used to your hugs and the physical affection you shower on him. His pale cheeks tint with a soft pink as he turns his head to look at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

One evening, you introduce him to your cat. The fluffy creature eyes him curiously before sauntering over, rubbing against his legs. Sakura hesitates, then gently kneels to pet the cat, his touch delicate as if not to hurt it.

As the days pass, he starts spending more time with your cat. He notices how it follows him around the apartment, always seeking his warmth and presence. Whenever he sits down, the cat immediately curls up in his lap, purring contentedly as he strokes its fur.

You lay together on your bed, your cat nestled between you, Sakura looks at you, with an expression you will never mistake — he is in love.

“You know,” he begins softly, “you and your cat are a lot alike.” You tilt your head in curiosity, signaling him to continue.

“Both of you always search for me, wanting to be close, to cuddle. You both make me feel... wanted.”

His words make your heart flutter and your eyes water with small tears. You smile, reaching out to hold his hand. “We both love you, Haru. How could we not want to be near you?”

Sakura’s eyes soften, and he squeezes your hand gently. The cat purrs louder, as if in agreement, and Sakura laughs quietly, the sound warm and tender.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle presence of your cat and the warmth of your love, Sakura feels a sense of belonging he never knew he needed, he was loved and wanted. And he will be forever thankful that you chose him over anyone in this world.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You watched him from the doorway, holding your phone just out of sight, trying to capture the scene without disturbing its delicate peace. Umemiya sits comfortably on the couch, absorbed in his book, while the soft glow of the late afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. On his lap, your cat snoozes peacefully, a contented purr vibrating from its small body, a slight smile on its face.

Hajime absentmindedly strokes the cat’s fur, his fingers moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern that seems to soothe both the cat and himself. His expression is calm and focused, his lips occasionally twitching into a smile as he reads a particularly interesting book about plants. The entire scene looks like it’s been lifted straight out of an old movie, every detail perfect and impossibly charming.

You can't resist whispering, "You're like something out of a dream, you know that?" He looks up, slightly startled but quickly relaxing when he sees you. A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes holding their undying affection for you. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Just look at you," you say, stepping closer, still recording. "The book, the cat, the sunlight... it's all too perfect. I feel like I’m in a classic romance film."

He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your heart flutter. "Well, as long as I get to be your leading man, I don't mind."

You sit beside him, the cat shifting slightly but not waking. "You’re doing a great job so far," you tease, resting your head on his shoulder. "Can I join in on this perfect moment?"

Hajime leans over and kisses the top of your head gently. "You already are," he murmurs. "This moment wouldn’t be perfect without you."

You close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his words and the serenity of the scene. The cat's purring, Hajime's presence, and the soft rustle of pages turning — wishing this could last forever.

TOGAME JO

You stepped into the house, and for the first time it's too quiet, you could only hear your own breathing and footsteps until reaching the bedroom as you catched your boyfriend sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling with his deep, peaceful breaths. Curled up on top of him is your cat, purring softly.

Standing in the doorway for a moment, you were just watching them. It's a sight to behold, perfect picture—one that fills your heart with so much love and adoration. Carefully, you move closer, trying not to disturb them but as you step forward, the floor creaks ever so slightly.

Togame stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He doesn’t say anything at first, just blinks sleepily at you. Then, with his lazy smile, he reaches out, his hand warm as it finds yours and pulls you gently into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breath beneath you and the cat adjusts itself, purring louder.

"Sweet dreams, angel," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. You feel his lips brush your forehead, a gentle, comforting touch that makes your heart flutter even more.

From the outside, the scene is simple as it can be. You, Togame, and the cat—together, you look like a small family, and maybe some years later you will be one.

KIRYU MITSUKI

Your boyfriend is going to be over at your house for a first time since you guys started dating. He has scene your room from video calls during game nights but he was more excited to see your cat because you have been spamming him like crazy in the dms with cute and silly photos of your pet.

As you step back into your room, cradling your cat in your arms like a baby, you see Kiryu sitting on the edge of your bed, looking at his phone. His face lights up the moment he notices you. He puts his phone aside and his eyes sparkle with excitement.

"Hey, there she is," he says with a warm smile, his voice soft and affectionate. "I've been waiting to meet this little star."

You walk over and gently place your cat in his lap. She looks up at him with curious eyes, and he chuckles, stroking her fur gently. She was just like you, melting and relaxing at his touch, maybe ita true that the pets behave like their owners.

"She's even cuter in person," he murmurs, looking up at you with a grin. "Just like you." You blush, feeling your heart flutter at his words. "I'm glad you think so. She's been looking forward to meeting you too."

Kiryu continues to pet your cat, his touch tender and careful, "I've seen so many pictures of her, but ... It's nice to finally be here with you both." and the reason for your death is going to be your own boyfriend with his cute face and honey like words — what a sweet death indeed.

SUO HAYATO

The soft hum of birthday music filled the room, mingling with the occasional meow from your cat, who was delightfully eyeing the small, cat-friendly cake you’d made just for him. You had planned this little surprise to make the day special, and it was the best desicion ever.

Your boyfriend was the heart of this adorable celebration, well he couldn't outdo the birthday boy. He had a party hat perched jauntily atop his head, and he looked utterly irresistible with it. And the cat was nestled comfortably in his lap and seemed to be enjoying the moment just as much.

You couldn’t resist the urge to capture this perfect snapshot. Your phone was out in an instant, your finger tapping the screen to snap a photo.

“What’s with the sneaky photo-taking?” Suo asked, glancing up to look at you, his voice warm and affectionate. His fingers gently scratched behind the pet’s ears, making the cat purr contentedly.

You grinned, stepping closer to him. “Just wanted to capture this moment,” you said, showing him the photo. “You look adorable with that party hat and he is enjoying his birthday bash. It’s perfect.”

Hayato chuckled softly, dropping you his iconic eye smile. ”I have to admit, this is the cutest party I’ve ever been to.” He adjusted the party hat slightly, making sure it was sitting just right. “Though I have to ask—what’s my prize for being the best-dressed guest?”

You raised an eyebrow playfully, pretending to ponder his request. “Hmm, let me think… how about a dance with the most charming guest of honor?” You extended a hand, and Suo’s grin widened as he took your hand, standing up and gently shifting the cat to a cozy spot on the couch, like a King watching his princess dancing with Prince Charming. “A dance with the host? Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. After you, my lady.”

ENDO YAMATO

Endo wakes up to something soft and fluffy tickling his mouth. As he blinks his eyes open, he finds your cat nestled comfortably between you and him, its long tail flicking gently. He chuckles softly, reaching out to pet the cat, who responds with a contented purr.

You stir beside him, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the heartwarming sight. The big, bad-tattooed wolf, as you teasingly call him, is gently stroking the cat, his rough exterior contrasting with the tender moment. You can't help but smile, your heart swelling with affection.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice thick with sleep. Endo’s eyes shift to meet yours, and a soft, loving smile tugs at his lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he replies, his voice as warm and comforting as the embrace he keeps you in.

Your eyelids droop again, heavy with lingering drowsiness. But before sleep can claim you once more, he carefully scoops you and the cat closer, wrapping his strong arms around both of you. You nuzzle into his warmth, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

“I will be late for work,” you mumble, voice still laced with that morning haze when your boyfriend hums, a deep, soothing sound that vibrates through his chest. “Call in sick,” he murmurs against your hair. “I want you to myself today.”

You smile, eyes still closed, basking in the peaceful moment. The cat purrs louder, as if in agreement, and you feel Endo’s lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Alright,” you whisper back, snuggling closer to him. “Just today.”

Endo’s arms tighten around you, and you feel the rumble of his satisfied chuckle. “Good. Now go back to sleep. We have all day.”

With that, you let yourself drift off again, feeling utterly safe and comfy in his embrace, your cat’s purrs lulling you back into a peaceful slumber.

A couple of hours later, you wake up again, this time to the sound of soft murmuring. You open your eyes to find Endo on the phone, his voice low and soothing, as he scratches the cat behind the ears.

“Yeah, she’s not feeling well today,” he says, glancing down at you with a wink. “She will see you tomorrow. Thanks.” He hangs up and looks at you with a playful grin. “All taken care of.”

You stretch. “You’re too good to me, Endo.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. “You deserve it, baby,” he whispers “Now, how about breakfast in bed?”

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girllblogging777 · 3 months ago

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𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

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sillyuin · 2 months ago

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Silly Puppies. Svt reacts (97 line).

Genre: Fluff, crack (kinda).

Pairing: 97'z x reader.

Summary: You're on you aparment spending time with your puppy as they hear you calling him "your soulmate". How will they react to this statement?

Divider by @cafekitsune

Minghao. He doesn't say a single word and his face is out of any expression. Obviously, you catch his attention, but not in the way you’d like; he knows you very well and understands that you just want to provoke him, and that's a game that two can play.

“Hao,” you hummed to catch his attention as he raised his gaze from his cell phone to you. “Don’t you think our puppy is adorable?”

His response was nothing more than a hint of a smile, then he turned back to his phone screen.

“See? He doesn’t pay attention to me,” you whisper while hugging your pet, who responds by wagging his tail joyfully. “That’s why you are my soulmate.”

Hao shifted his eyes from the phone to look at you while you gaze at him with wide, contemplative eyes; his face remains calm. You’re eager for his reaction, but he knows your intentions and what’s hiding behind those innocent eyes, so he’s not going to be fooled so easily.

“Excuse me, were you talking to me?” he asked, placing a hand on his chest to emphasize the question.

“No, I’m talking to him.”

He clicked his tongue and got up from his seat. “Then you can stay here with your soulmate” he gestured with his hand to shamelessly point at the puppy in your arms, “there’s surely enough space for you both on the couch.”

“Hao, wait!” you stretched your hand to reach him, but he had already turned his back to walk away.

“Sorry, I’m going to MY room to sleep in MY bed.”

Dokyeom. Breaking his heart should be a crime, and you’re the one to blame. How could you do that? Now you must face the consequences.

“Have I told you that you are my soulmate?” you patted your pet's head while he remained seated. “Yes, you are.”

“y/n, the bathroom is all yours,” Dokyeom entered the living room with a towel on his shoulders and wearing pajamas.

“I’m going, I was just telling to my soulmate how beautiful he is.”

“But,” he chuckled softly, “you haven’t said anything to me.”

“It’s not with you,” you leaned down to give the puppy a kiss on the head. “It’s with him.”

“Then I… I won’t…”

“Come on, don’t take it too serious…” You stood up to give him a hug, but Dokyeom rejected you by turning his back to walk away. “No, Seokmin!”

You followed him to the room’s entrance, calling him with desperate voice, and you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw his downcast face, his dark eyes like a sad puppy. You swallowed hard; it was the first time you saw Seokmin that sad.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” You approached to give him a hug, gently stroking his back, and he reciprocated the gesture.

“Well…” His voice sounded a bit more cheerful. “… If you give me a kiss, I might forgive you.”

“Lee Seok Min!” You quickly pulled away only to find him laughing in your face. “Why are you playing with me like this!?”

“You started it! Don’t run away, don’t get mad at me!”

Mingyu. He is not someone who gets upset with you, but bringing him down from that position, from HIS position, is something very personal, no matter who it is, and he will not shut up about it…

“Gyu,” you said as you entered the kitchen. Mingyu turned his gaze from the stove to you, a tender smile forming on his lips when he saw you with your pet in arms. “Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” he returned to what he was doing; whatever he was cooking smelled very good and had him quite busy. “Don’t worry, I’m all ears.”

“Did you buy food for him?” You tilted your head, pointing at the puppy. “My soulmate can’t go hungry.”

Those words fell heavily on Mingyu’s ears, who slowly turned his head toward you, his eyebrows raised in surprise, but not in a good way.

“Did you just say… that…?”

“That my soulmate can’t go hungry,” you repeated, bringing the puppy closer to your face, trying to make a cute expression.

Mingyu turned off the stove and left everything he was doing as if an emergency had occurred.

“Take that back,” he said in a half-serious, half-joking tone while pointing his finger at you. “Take it back right now.”

“Come on, I was joking.” You bent down to let your pet stay on the floor. “Are you really going to get angry…”

“That title is mine, and mine only.” There was a rather strange silence, which ended when you burst out laughing loudly, and he continued. “Hey, don’t laugh at me!”

“I'm sorry,” you wiped the corners of your eyes, filled with tears. “It’s just… it’s just a puppy, don’t get jealous!”

“Jealous?” Mingyu wrapped you in his arms and started kissing your cheeks repeatedly. You tried to break free, but the more you struggled, the harder it was to escape. “You are mine, and I’m not sharing!”

“Alright, you win!” you exclaimed between laughs. “Just let me go, Mingyu!”

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babyfoxflower · 10 days ago

Text

Professor

Human! Professor! Alastor x Fem! Reader

Modern College AU

Part 2 of 2 (Part 1)

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Age Gap (Alastor is 32 and Reader is 22), Soft! Dom Alastor, Oral Sex (Fem! Receiving), P in V Sex, Reader calls Al “Daddy,” Creampie

You groaned, “Fuck.”

You woke up to something soft rubbing against your face. You opened your eyes to see a cat drooling on your face.

I don’t have a cat.

You then realize that you’re not at home. The memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Immediate embarrassment washed over you. You sat up.

“Morning, Sunshine!”

“Morning, Professor,” the smell of bacon filled your nose.

“Come now, we’re not in class. Please call me Alastor,” he smiled at you.

Your vision focused to see Alastor making bacon and eggs.

“Hope you don’t mind, I made you breakfast. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No, I love eggs and bacon. Thank you…Alastor,” his name felt strange on your tongue, but you liked it.

Your attention turned to the cat, her fur was pure white and she had big green eyes.

“Your cat is cute. What’s her name?” You asked.

“Oh, thank you. She is quite lovely, isn’t she? Her name’s Luna.”

“Luna? Like the moon?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t she remind you of a full moon?”

You studied her for a moment, “Yes, I suppose she does….” You grinned as you pet her.

“Breakfast is ready,” Alastor said casually as if this situation was normal.

Does he not feel how awkward this is? I, a student, came over drunk and tried to seduce him. This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.

“Alright, thank you,” you replied as you got out of his bed, smoothing out the sheets the best you could, and moved to the couch.

Alastor sat down next to you and handed you your breakfast along with a fork for the eggs.

“I can make you some toast too, if you’d like?”

“No, thank you. You’re very kind, but this should be enough for now.”

As soon as you took a bite of those soft scrambled eggs, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t necessarily scarf them down, put you did eat them rather quickly.

“I assuming by your expressions, the eggs were good?” He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, he had also finished his portion.

“Mm, yes, they were delicious! They might be the best eggs I’ve ever had, what did you put in them?”

“Mayonnaise. It adds creaminess and deepens the flavor.”

“Mayo? I usually hate mayo. But this tasted amazing.”

“I also butter the pan instead of using cooking spray.”

“My, aren’t you quite the chef?” You chuckled.

“I learned from the best. However, I can’t quite get them to taste like my mom’s. I don’t know what her secret is, she won’t even tell me!” He laughed.

“Are you close to your mom?” You asked before taking a bite of bacon, trying to make light conversation.

“Yes. I don’t get to see her that often anymore. She still lives in New Orleans. But I try to keep in touch with her as much as I can.”

“Oh, are you from New Orleans?”

“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised,” he said with a Southern drawl, there was pride in his voice.

“Ooo, I like that accent. Is it natural or put on?”

“Natural, however I’ve lost it a bit.”

“I guess moving so far up North will do that,” you smiled.

“Well, it didn’t help me keep it. That’s for sure,” he laughed. “How are you feeling, Darling? Does your head hurt at all?” He changed the subject.

“No, surprisingly. That Tylenol from last night must have worked.”

“I told you. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. You have a very comfortable mattress.”

You have a very comfortable mattress? Way to sound like a normal person, Y/n.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear? You keep making uncomfortable faces.”

“I’m alright, I just…feel a little awkward….”

“Why?”

“Because of last night.”

“Oh, there’s no need to feel awkward about that.”

“But I embarrassed myself.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t even do anything wrong, my dear,” he flashed you a reassuring smile.

“Still, that was the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” you looked down at your bare feet, the shine of your red toe nail polish catching the light.

Alastor placed his plate on the coffee table before lifting up your chin, making you look at him, “Y/n, what you did in the grand scheme of things wasn’t even that bad. You haven’t at all changed my opinion of you, I still like and respect you. We all have rough nights, Darlin’.”

You put your plate down next to his. You brought your hand to his, giving it a light squeeze. He squeezed yours back.

“You want me to tell you an embarrassing story from my college days?” He asked.

“Yes,” you smiled.

The two of you leaned back on the couch. You rested your head on your arm as you listened intently to his story.

“Let’s see, it was my junior year, and my friends and I went out for a drinks. Back then, I wasn’t really good at pacing myself and would often end up getting plastered. Fast forward to the end of the night and I was stumbling up the steps to my apartment building. It was at that moment I realized that I had lost my key to my apartment.”

“Oh no.”

“Hold on, it gets worse. For some reason in my drunken state, I convinced myself that I couldn’t get in the building itself without my key,” he shook his head, “So I got this genius idea, I would scale the building all the way up to my roommate’s window and knock on it until he’d let me in.”

“Oh my god, did you fall!?”

“No, I actually succeeded in climbing up there. Amazingly, as it was on the tenth floor. The problem was my roommate wasn’t waking up. No matter how hard I banged on that window, he would not get out of bed. I was about to give up and find somewhere else to sleep that night, when I heard the sound of sirens.”

You knew where this was going, “Someone called the cops?”

“Someone called the cops.”

“What happened after that?”

“I explained everything to them the best I could. And then they informed me I didn’t need to have my key to get into the building, I could just have one of my neighbors buzz me in. I felt like the stupidest person alive,” he laughed.

“Did you ever make it to your apartment?” You giggled.

“Yes, it turns out that it wasn’t even locked. My roommate had a habit of not locking up before bed. And I didn’t even lose my key, it was in my back pocket,” Alastor visibly cringed, mentally face palming. “So, you see, my dear, you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Do you feel better now?”

“A little bit. Thank you, Alastor,” you blushed.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” he smiled.

You started to feel more at ease. There was something about him that made you feel safe and warm. You knew that you picked the right person to be with.

For whatever reason, a memory popped into your mind from last night. You remembered something Alastor had said to you before you went to sleep.

“I promise, if you’re still interested in the morning when you’re sober, I will give you exactly what you want.”

A small grin made its way on your face.

“You know, I think there’s something on your glasses. Let me get it off for you,” you moved from your spot on the couch and straddled his lap.

You took his glasses off his face carefully and pretended to examine them.

The whole time he had this smile on his face that made it evident that he knew exactly what you were doing and he was throughly enjoying it.

“Oh, my mistake. It must just been the light,” you slid his glasses back on him, smoothly tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

He chuckled, “If you wanted to sit in my lap, you could have just asked. I wouldn’t have said no.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re quite charming, you know that?”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes, very much so. And quite gorgeous too, if I may be so bold?” He stroked your cheek bone with his thumb.

“You may. I wanted to ask you something?” You wrapped your arms around him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist in turn, “Yes? What is it, dollface?”

You blushed at the old timey term of endearment, “Do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“I said many things to you last night. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

You leaned in close to his ear, “You said, “if you’re still interested in the morning when you’re sober, I’ll give you exactly what you want,” well guess what? I’m still very interested.”

“Are you, now?” A sultry smirk formed on his lips. His hands slid down from your waist to your hips.

“Yes,” you nodded.

He squeezed your hips lightly. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”

You let out a little yelp as he lifted you up and carried you over to the bed. His cat immediately ran to hide under the sofa, as if she knew what was about to happen.

He laid you down on the bed, before crawling on top of you.

Alastor leaned in and you expected him to kiss your lips, but instead he started planting kisses up and down your neck.

“You tease!”

“Now, now. Patience is a virtue, my dear,” his breath hot against your skin.

“But I want to kiss you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You will. Just relax and let Daddy take care of you.”

Fuck that’s hot.

His words made your core heat up even more.

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he praised.

He returned to kissing your neck, nice and slow. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the cold of his glasses made for an interesting sensation. His mouth supple and skillful. He definitely knew what he was doing. He reached a particular place that had you moaning like crazy.

“Ahh…ahh…ahh.”

You had never experienced so much pleasure from something as simple as neck kissing before.

You could feel him smirking against your neck. He began focusing all his attention on that one spot. You ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. Kisses slowly turned into gentle sucking, producing a wet sound.

Alastor switched back and forth between kissing and sucking. You bit down on your lip as you let out little mews and moans. You noticed he started sucking down on your neck slightly harder.

Is he giving me a hickey?

He gave one final firm suck before pulling away with a satisfying pop.

After taking a moment to admire not just his handiwork but how absolutely breathtaking you looked, your face flushed and eyes darkened over with lust - which matched his own - and full of desperation, at last his lips finally met your needy ones.

Again the kissing started off slow, a sensual exchange between two tender mouths. Lips moved in sync with each others. Soft moans filled the room. His fingertips teasingly traced over your curves.

You tilted your head to the side, suddenly feeling his warm wet tongue on your bottom lip. He ran his tongue across the shape of your lip, wanting entry. You denied him playfully.

“Oh, so you’re going to be naughty, hmm?”

You didn’t respond, instead just smiling cheekily.

He locked lips with you again but this time, he bit down on your bottom lip and tugged on it a few times, not hard but enough to make you to make gasp.

“Oh Daddy, you have some sharp canines!”

Alastor took advantage of your open mouth, and slid his tongue in. You flicked the tip of his tongue with yours before letting him explore. It tickled slightly when he licked the roof of your mouth. You licked the soft underside of his tongue.

It took you a minute to notice that his sneaky hands found their way under your shirt and were unhooking your bra. You didn’t even have to help him, he got it off of you faster than any other guy you had ever been with. You were practically purring as those big strong hands of his started massaging your sensitive mounds. He groaned at how wonderful your tits felt in his palms. How easily they squished for him.

He continued to stimulate one of your breasts with one hand as he used his other hand to lift up your shirt. You helped him get it off of you. The sudden rush of cold air gave you goosebumps.

His eyes lit up, “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you is absolutely gorgeous, Darlin’.”

Those words were enough to turn you into a blushing mess with butterflies in your stomach.

“Please, Daddy. Just take me,” you begged as you pushed your bosoms together.

“Oh, I will. But please allow me the honor of getting to taste you first, Baby,” he raised an eyebrow seductively.

“Wait, you’ll actually do that?”

“Yes, I bet you taste divine. But of course if you’re not comfortable with it…”

“No I am, it’s just…this would the first time.”

“Oh I see, well then I’ll have to make sure that’s it’s extra enjoyable for you,” he grinned.

Alastor began kissing his way down from your collarbone to your chest, from your chest to your stomach, and from your stomach to the seam of your jean shorts - they were the ones that were high rise and had three buttons. Slowly, he unbuttoned them one by one before undoing the zipper. All the while, he watched as you bit your lip from anticipation.

He smirked, “No panties?”

“I thought it would be a pleasant surprise,” you winked.

“Indeed it was, my little peach,” he rid you of your remaining item of clothing.

He spread your legs open, licking his lips at the sight of your soaking pussy. You let out a little squeak as he lifted up your hips and pulled you closer. You wondered what it was even going to feel like. You had only ever been fingered.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Alastor planted a kiss on your inner thigh, “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

You lightly grasped his hair as he slowly ran his tongue up and down your labia. It felt so warm. You covered your mouth to try to muffle the amount of moans that were escaping you. He continued with long strokes from your clit to your entrance. You could feel him groaning against your vulva as if you were the best thing he ever tasted. The vibrations only added to the pleasant sensation.

Suddenly, you felt a finger enter you. It reached up deep in your cunt until it found that special place inside of you. He added another one of his nimble fingers, stimulating your sweet spot with a come hither motion.

“Daddy,” you drooled.

You closed your eyes, tears starting to form around your eyes.

“Baby, look at me.”

“No! It feels too good!”

“Please, dear, look at me.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, his face buried in your pussy.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Also, don’t muffle your adorable noises so much. I quite enjoy them.”

“Ye…yesss, Daddy.”

You gripped onto the sheets, making sure to keep eye contact with him. Your wails of pleasure mixed with the squelching sounds coming from your cunt. The smell of sex filled the air.

Alastor’s attention turned to your clit, flicking it a few times with his tongue. To which you made a noise that you had never made in your entire life. It was not long until you felt that coil tightening in your stomach, your walls fluttering on his fingers.

“…’m close…” you managed to get out.

“Is that so? I better pick up the pace then,” a smug smirk made its way onto his face.

Before you could even ask what that meant, he latched his mouth down on your bundle of nerves, his head bobbing slightly as he sucked. His fingers moved in and out of you faster. Your head fell back and your toes curled as you felt that coil, not just come undone, but snap. You screamed out his name as you gushed all over him. He gladly drank up all the nectar that you gave him, moaning as he savored every last drop.

You laid there for a seconds while coming down from your high, you breath heavy. That was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. It was as if your soul had ascended out of your body.

Alastor gave one final little kiss on your clit, “Mmm, that was absolutely delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

You chuckled lightly, “I’m glad you enjoyed your meal.”

“Meal? That was merely the appetizer,” he smiled, licking your remaining juices of his fingers.

He got up and began to undress. You watched him intently as he unbuttoned his shirt. He was lean and muscular. That with his handsome face, lovely eyes, and gorgeous hair, he was absolute smoke show.

“My, oh my, Daddy, I didn’t know you had a six pack!” You licked your lips, “and look at those guns too. Absolutely scrumptious.”

“Stop, you’re going to make me self conscious,” he joked.

“Please, you have a beautiful body,” you said looking him up and down.

“Not as beautiful as yours,” he replied.

“You always know what to say,” you blushed.

“Well, I am a Communications professor,” he said as he unbuckled his belt.

That’s right, you had almost forgotten that he was a professor, your professor.

Oh well, already made it this far with him. Might as well keep going.

You flipped over onto your stomach, facing him, “Do you mind if I help you with this last part, Daddy?” You reached out, fingering the button of his pants.

“Be my guest, dollface,” he grinned.

You slowly undid the button, before pulling down the zipper. Excitement washed over you as you helped free his hardened member from his boxers. Not only was it big but pretty too.

You took it into your hand, pumping it a few times, “Mmm…Daddy, you have a nice big cock.”

He let out a deep moan as you gently wrapped your lips around the head, letting your tongue run across the tip.

“Ah, as lovely as that feels, my darling,” Alastor took hold of your chin, “I don’t think I can wait much longer to fuck your pretty little pussy.”

His smooth voice, like velvet, sent a shiver through you. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva connected your lips to the tip of his dick.

He finished taking off his pants and boxers before pulling you into a passionate kiss. You crawled backwards, lips still locked with his, on the bed until your head reached the pillows. You adjusted your head on the soft pillow until you find the right position.

“Comfortable?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

He smiled and brushed your hair out of your face, “Let me know if you need or simply want to stop, alright? Your comfort is my number one priority, my dear.”

You stroked his face, “You’re so sweet. I’ll let you know.”

He lifted your leg and placed on his shoulder before lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please fuck me, Daddy.”

You took a deep breath as he started to ease himself into your pussy. Your walls stretched to accommodate his large cock. Little moans escaped your lips. He groaned in satisfaction.

“Fuck…” he hissed, “Your cunt fits me perfectly, Baby. Like you were made to take me.”

You blushed. “Maybe I was…” you mumbled under your breath.

Alastor suddenly reached that special place inside of you, to which you mewed loudly. He smirked and rolled his hips. You reached down to rub your clit, but he beat you to it.

He began to thrust in and out of you, slow and steady, making sure to hit that spot inside you every time. His name kept slipping past your lips, “Alastor…Alastor…oh, Alastor.”

He put his forehead to yours, making sure the only thing you could focus on was him, “Y/n, you sound so pretty,” he moaned before kissing you.

You traced the muscles of his back as you returned his kisses. You carefully removed your leg from his shoulder before wrapping both of your legs around his waist. You wanted him to be as close to you as possible.

He took hold of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours, gently pinning your arms against the pillow, as he positioned himself so that his pubic bone was stimulating your bundle of nerves. You moved your hips in rhythm with his.

As soon as he pulled away, you took the opportunity to plant a few kisses on his Adam’s apple. You were planning on giving him a hickey to match the one he gave you. He moaned, the vibrations tickling your lips. You got your mouth as low as you possibly could, before starting to suck.

“You naughty little thing,” he playfully scolded.

You kissed and sucked his tender skin until you were satisfied that it left a mark.

“What? I’m just returning the favor,” you innocently said.

You let out a yelp as Alastor suddenly picked up the pace. It was then you realized that coil was tightening in stomach again, your spongy walls fluttering on his big cock.

“I’m…close,” you moaned.

“Cum for me, baby, come undone on my cock,” he licked the shell of your ear.

The bed creaked, the lewd sound of slurping mixed with the sound of skin slapping against skin, accompanied by the chorus of moans and sighs. Alastor looked into your eyes as you had yet your second orgasm. This time, your eyes rolled back, your mouth agape.

He groaned nonstop as your pussy milked him, coaxing him to climax as well. But he wouldn’t let himself just yet. He fucked you through your high.

“Roll over for me, Darlin’.”

“What?” You asked.

“Please, I want to feel you cum just one more time,” he kissed your forehead.

“Alright,” you rolled over on your stomach.

You had never been taken from behind before.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous from this position too,” he said as he ran his hands down your back.

He paused when he got to your lower back before squeezing your ass, “Cute tattoo,” you could feel him smirking.

You had a little heart tattoo on your left cheek. You blushed, burying your face into the pillow, “Thank you.”

He chuckled before reinserting himself into you, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

He soon found an even rhythm. He planted kisses on your shoulder. You purred as he took one of your tits into his hand, massaging your nipple with his thumb. His other hand found its way on your swollen clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Feels so good, Daddy!” You cried out as you reached behind you, gripping his hair.

“Keep pulling my hair,” he huffed into your ear.

You obeyed and tugged lightly on it as you were reaching your third climax. The coil built up and came undone. This time when you milked him, you could feel him twitching inside of you.

“Fuck. I’m close,” he growled in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Daddy,” you begged.

“Are you sure, dollface?”

“Yeah…it’s fine…I’m on the pill.”

Alastor moaned your name as he filled your cunt with his hot cum.

“So warm,” you moaned, stroking your lower stomach.

He collapsed on top of you, his member softening inside you. Both of you were covered in sweat, faces flushed, panting.

He rolled over next to you, pulling you into his arms. You turned your body so that you could face him.

Alastor smiled and kissed you gently, “You’re…perfect...”

“No…that’s…all you. Mister ‘I value the woman’s pleasure over my own.’ You are a dream come true.”

He laughed, “I’m far from perfect, Sweetheart. I just try to make others happy. Though, I’ll admit the only person happiness I’m interested in is yours now.”

You blushed, “I feel the same. I’m only interested in making you happy.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he pulled you even closer to him.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Can we do this again sometime?”

“Only if you let me buy you dinner first next time,” he grinned.

“Nothing would make me happier,” you smiled brightly, snuggling up in his chest.

He hummed as he stroked your hair, fully satisfied in every way possible.

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sluttywonwoo · 27 days ago

Text

the roster | part two of three

pairing: christopher bahng + lee sangyeon + choi seuncheol x f!reader

summary: what happens when all the guys on your roster find out about each other?

warnings: see here (mdni!!!)

word count: 2.8k

series masterlist

“Are we going in age order?” Sangyeon asks. The question is directed more to Seungcheol than it is to you.

The older man shrugs. “It’s your house.”

You can tell that isn’t the answer Sangyeon wanted to hear from the way he purses his lips. Always so indecisive, that man.

You make the decision for him, propping yourself up on your elbows and beckoning him closer.

“Come here, Sangyeon.”

He listens promptly and approaches the bedside, eyes wide like he doesn’t know why you called him over.

“Kiss me.”

You grab a handful of his t-shirt and tug him forward into a kiss, grinning when he makes a sound of surprise against your lips.

“Guess, I’m up,” he mumbles once you let go.

“You’ve been ‘up’ for the last twenty minutes,” Seungcheol prods.

“Like you haven’t been,” Sangyeon shoots back.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all hard, we get it. We don’t have all night.”

“Always so impatient,” Sangyeon murmurs, wrapping a possessive hand around your throat and using it to keep you in place as he kisses you again.

You expect him to climb on top of you like Chris had but instead he gets both arms underneath you and pulls you on top of him. It’s a little awkward, especially considering you’re already naked and he’s still fully clothed, but once he has you on his lap he has no problem getting comfortable underneath you.

When your lips reconnect, he takes over, cradling the back of your head in his palm as the kiss gets heated and you start to grind down on his lap. You wonder absently if you taste different after kissing another man. You wonder if the thought even crosses Sangyeon’s mind. There’s no indication that it does- or at least no indication that it bothers him if it does. He still moans into each kiss and he doesn’t shy away from using tongue.

Out of the three of them, Sangyeon talks the least during sex. You suppose he must not feel the need for words when he can use his body instead. Most things are unspoken between the two of you in bed, it all just comes so naturally. It’s almost like you can read each other’s minds to an extent.

Tonight is different because you aren’t alone. There are too many distractions for you to be able to focus on just each other.

So instead of signaling to you with expressions or movements, he simply asks you to, “sit on my face?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the request alone.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

It isn’t uncommon for Sangyeon’s face to be between your legs at some point in the night. Whether he’s making you cum on his tongue to get you ready for his cock or eating you out in between rounds while he recovers, he makes it his mission to taste you at least once.

For some reason, you’re surprised he still wants to go down on you in front of the other guys. There’s no reason for him not to, you just weren’t expecting it. You certainly won’t pass up the opportunity, though. If he’s offering, who are you to deny him the pleasure?

“Let me take my shirt off first,” Sangyeon says as you climb off his lap to let him get situated. “Don’t want to ruin another one.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you huff, “ruin is a little dramatic, Sang. All of your shirts have been fine after a cycle in the wash.”

His shit-eating grin gets even wider. “I was just teasing, baby,” he insists as he settles flat on his back and reaches out for you. “C’mere.”

“You’re all so mean to me,” you complain, taking his hand anyway.

Chris laughs behind you. You hadn’t even heard him come back into the room. “We could be a lot meaner if we wanted to be,” he points out and sets the glass of water he’d fetched for you on the dresser. “Do you have coasters?”

“Living room coffee table,” Sangyeon answers before turning his attention back to you. “Ready?”

“I don’t think I can hold myself up,” you admit. You’ve already cum twice tonight and you don’t have much lower body strength to begin with.

It seems like the odds are stacked against you in all things tonight.

“So? That’s never been a problem before.”

“I-I know, I just wanted to let you know in case something happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he promises. “Stop stalling.”

With a sigh, you relent. You use Sangyeon’s hands to steady yourself as you straddle his face and settle down onto it. You try to be gentle but he grabs your thighs and hauls you on top of him, using your weak legs against you.

Your back is turned to the other two men but you can still hear them jeering at the man underneath you. You want to tell them to shut the fuck up, namely Seungcheol, but you’re already at a loss for words, too consumed by the man who’s consuming you.

Sangyeon moans your name into your cunt, urging you to rock your hips into his face. He licks and sucks at any part of you he can reach before slipping his tongue inside of you. His nose rests on your clit, stimulating it every time you grind forward.

When you first started sleeping with Sangyeon, you were delighted to find that the rumors about men with big noses were in fact true. At least, they were true when it came to him. His nose is definitely something he uses to his advantage when he gives you head, which has admittedly made it the best you’ve ever had.

There’s something so erotic about being eaten out by someone after someone else has been inside you. Maybe it’s the fact that the aforementioned man who had been inside of you is also watching it happen— or maybe it’s that Sangyeon had been the one to ask you to ride his face— either way, you’re on the edge again before you can even let yourself enjoy it.

You try to raise yourself a couple of inches off his face to catch a break from the unrelenting pleasure but Sangyeon protests by putting his hands on your hips and pulling you back down. The headboard saves you from hitting your head against the wall (again) when you slump forward. You then use it to brace yourself, gaining more control over your movements as you roll your hips in time with the pattern of his tongue.

“I know she tastes good but god damn,” Chris murmurs.

It sounds like he’s mostly talking to Seungcheol but Sangyeon chimes in anyway, tapping on your hip as a way to ask you to lift up. It isn’t without difficulty, but you do manage to hover above him, thighs trembling with the effort.

“Does she not make those sounds when you’re eating her out?"

Both of the observers are either too proud or too annoyed to respond.

"You know what, turn around,” Sangyeon decides, smacking your ass to spur you on. “Want you to see them.”

It's a strategic move that’s for your benefit and his. He knows you’ll get off on the visual of the other two men watching you get eaten out, which in turn helps him. It's actually doubly beneficial to Sangyeon because he also gets to rub the effect he’s having on you in their faces, literally.

You’re exhausted but with Sangyeon’s help you’re able to flip around so that you’re facing the other way.

Seungcheol gives you a little wave. Chris just tilts his head to the side, keeping his arms crossed across his chest. He’d put his boxers back on at some point but was still mostly undressed.

“You okay there, princess?” Seungcheol asks condescendingly, “are you gonna make it?”

You glare at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“She won’t be for long,” Sangyeon interjects, pulling you back down onto his face and effectively eliminating any chance you had to tell him off for his own cocky comment.

He’s back at it as soon as you’re low enough for him to reach. You have all the grace of a newborn fawn, your arms sprawling out on the mattress as you attempt to catch yourself when you inevitably lose your balance.

It’s a pitiful display, and you want to blame Sangyeon, but you know you have no one to blame but yourself for the position you’re in now.

“Oh, baby,” Chris hums, pulling what little focus you have left, “can’t even hold yourself up anymore? Feels that good?”

Sangyeon moans something no one can understand into your pussy. You’re not sure whether he’s trying to get on to Chris for interfering, which would be hypocritical considering he did the same thing when it was Chan’s turn, or if his taunting is also turning him on. Knowing Sangyeon, you’re willing to bet it’s the latter.

“Do you need help, angel?”

Chris steps forward and offers his hand to you.

You look over to Seungcheol in question. “Is that allowed?”

You hate that you also default to him as the one in charge even though he doesn’t technically have any standing above the other two.

He just shrugs, unhelpful as ever.

“I’m not helping him,” Chris clarifies. “I’m helping her stay upright.”

Since Seungcheol doesn’t protest, you take Chris up on his offer and let him support you. His grip stays loose enough so that you’re still able to somewhat control the rhythm (or lack thereof) of your hips as you ride Sangyeon’s face.

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open but you’re determined to see their expressions, both of which are a mix of undeniable arousal and barely concealed envy. You have to admit that it’s addicting, the feeling of their attention, the rush of adrenaline that comes from knowing you hold all three men in the palm of your hand— at least in this moment. You can’t help secretly hoping this won’t be the last time something like this happens.

“Close again?” Chris asks.

You nod, accidentally making yourself dizzier.

“Please let me this time,” you beg Sangyeon, “please let me cum.”

Sangyeon doesn’t usually deny you, only making exceptions if you’ve been bratty, but after getting so close and losing it last time you don’t want to risk it happening again.

Thankfully, he mumbles something that sounds like “go ahead,” against you which is all the permission you need to let go.

You squeeze Chan’s hand hard as it hits you. The pleasure is almost too much. You try leaning forward to get some kind of reprieve but both Sangyeon and Chris keep you in place so that you’re forced to ride it out.

You’re more surprised than you probably should be when you do finally get off Sangyeon’s face and see that he’s completely drenched. He’s literally dripping with you.

You’ve yet to catch your breath but you still have the wherewithal to be mortified. “Oh, Sang, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to.”

Sangyeon grins at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a good thing I took my shirt off, huh?”

“Should I grab a towel?” Chris asks, making little to no effort to suppress his own smile.

“I’ve got it,” Sangyeon assures him and reaches over to the opposite nightstand. He opens the drawer to reveal a stash of folded washcloths and grabs one from the top. “This happens pretty often,” he explains as he dries himself off.

“You’re very prepared,” Seungcheol remarks. He sounds genuinely impressed beneath the thick layer of condescension he lays atop the words.

Sangyeon takes it in stride and winks at him. “Gotta be.” He then redirects his attention to you. “Are you still doing okay?”

You give him a thumbs-up, much like the one he had given you earlier, and mumble out a, “fantastic”.

“Good, because I need to be inside you.”

You remain where you are on your back as Sangyeon climbs over you to fetch another condom from the first drawer. He comes back and kisses your cheek before wriggling out of his pants and rolling the condom on.

“You know I love it when you’re on top but I won’t make you do that,” he teases, positioning himself over you.

“I can be on top, you’d just have to do all the work,” you counter.

“Well, I also want to last and it was hard enough to endure you riding my face. There’s no chance I’ll survive you riding my cock, even if it is just me fucking up into you the entire time.”

You can’t argue with that and you can’t hide the giddy smile that his admission brings. Flattery does indeed get these men everywhere.

“You’re ready? Are you sure you don’t need a break or anything?” Sangyeon asks, eyes flitting over your face to try and read your expression.

“I’m ready,” you promise. “I want to feel you too.”

He doesn’t need any more convincing but he does go slow, easing the head of his cock inside of you with as much restraint as he can conjure. You both sigh, your bodies relaxing into each other as he slides home.

He embraces you with both arms, his movements short but fluid so that he can stay deep inside of you and hit that spot over and over and over again.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” he hisses. “Just got fucked by someone else and you’re still trying to suck the life out of me already?”

“I guess I’m j-just that good,” you quip.

He agrees easily. “Yeah? Pussy so good it’ll drive Cheol crazy too, right?” Maybe Sangyeon should talk more in bed if this is how he’s going to go about it. “Oh, you like the idea of that, don’t you?”

Spoke too soon.

Whereas Chris had elected not to share what made you clench harder around him, Sangyeon is calling you out for it outright. It makes you wish you could sink into the mattress or that it would close up with you inside it like one of those Murphy beds in The Sims.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything about his friend’s comment. He doesn’t have to. You can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in waves even though you close your eyes so you don’t have to see the look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Sangyeon presses. “Are you embarrassed, baby? Don’t be. You do look very pretty when you pout, though.”

You open your eyes again just to roll them at him but get caught up in how pretty he looks on top of you. He’d changed his position a little, raising himself above you kind of like Chris had. You’re able to get a full view of his face like this, able to see that his eyes are just as full of desire as you know yours are.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he tells you and you listen. “Is that good?”

“So good.”

Sangyeon leans back down to kiss your neck, using it as a cover to whisper in your ear so that the others can’t hear. “Please tell me you’re close too.” You dig your nails into his back as affirmation and hear him laugh to himself. “Thank god.”

“Just a little more,” you beg, not wanting it to end so soon even though you doubt you’d be able to hold back any longer.

Sangyeon does his best to heed your request, giving it to you a little faster and a little harder for a few more seconds before falling victim to the same spell you’d succumbed to moments earlier.

“Kiss me as you cum,” he practically pleads, “I’m right there with you.”

Feeling him twitch inside of you is what sends you over the edge this time and you moan his name into his mouth as you cum, the taste of yourself on his lips overtaking your senses.

You’re not sure how long it goes on for but it feels like an eternity. Sangyeon helps you ride it out as much as he can before the oversensitivity kicks in and he has to stop. He doesn’t pull out right away, though, gritting his teeth and letting you clench around his cock until the aftershocks of your orgasm subside.

The room is quiet again as the two of you come down, save for the shaky, heaving breaths coming from the both of you that cut through the silence. Sangyeon rubs your shoulder soothingly, letting you know he’s still there.

“Do you want to take that break?” Seungcheol asks once he’s fairly certain the ringing in your ears has ceased.

“I’m good,” you choke out unconvincingly.

Chris appears next to you with the cup of water in hand. You accept it gratefully and use both hands to tip it to your mouth like a child as you take several gulps.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly as he watches the two younger men dote on you.

"Fine, but don't expect me to go easy on you," he warns. "After all, you saved the best for last, baby."

omg this took me forever ;-; apologies. but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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soraphic · 1 year ago

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plug!connie who go to war for his lady + some smut at the end💁🏽‍♀️

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐞 & 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐟) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭.

before you had time to process the movement around you connie had him pressed against the wall,one hand pressed flat beside his head as he levelled with him,ears steaming and a nasty mug. (the other guy,who had been previously feeling you up on the dance floor at some dingy house party you had been dragged to by sasha) tried to speak,but connie quickly cut him off by guiding a hand between them to press against a hard outline in his sweat pocket. "you feel that?" he closed his fist,forcing the other guys fingers to wrap around the heavy barrel of the object,watching his eyes widen and his breath shallow. "yea,you know what that is. back the fuck up,cabrón."

(the other guy) was rendered speechless,mouth open and closing dryly with a humiliating look on his face. "I—,,I—"

"I—..I—.." you winced as your boyfriend mocked the poor guy with a faux frown on his face,an inked hand coming up to grasp the boy's face. "what? you gon' try tell me it was an accident?"

by this point people were staring,and you suddenly felt embarrassment course through you. you gently tugged on your boyfriend's sleeve,stalling hopefully enough time for you to be able to convince him to leave before he took the situation too far.

"con,let's go,just leave it,i'm tired." you tried,but his eyes didn't leave the asshole in front of him,arm tensing as he tried to shrug you off.

"nah,'ion think he learned his lesson yet."

you sighed heavily,giving a slight roll of your eyes toward ony and eren,who were quietly watching everything unfold. ony had a hard look on his face,arms crossed tightly against his chest and unmoving as he watched connie with narrowed eyes. eren,on the other hand,had his hands hanging loosely in his pockets and a taunting grin on his face,clearly enjoying the entertainment for the night,and slightly proud of connie for giving the dick what he deserves for touching you. you motioned your head toward connie,silently asking them to do something. but neither of them budged,eren letting an airy chuckle pass his lips with a shake of his head.

"connie,let's just fucking go,he's not worth it."

"i already fuckin' told you,ma,i ain't movin'!" he snapped,irritated with your constant interference. he was doing this for you,so why were you so insistent on helping this mamahuevo?

"go wait in the car,princesa." he nodded over his shoulder at you,but his gaze still locked in front of him.

you obliged with another dramatic roll of your eyes,barging past a crowd of people to the door. you were too exhausted to fight him on it,deciding to just let him handle it and blow off whatever steam he needed so that he could come back your sweet,doting boyfriend after.

the car shook slightly as he threw himself into the drivers seat,inspecting the blood staining his knuckles to pinpoint whether it was his or the other guy's.

you sat there with a sour expression on your face,glaring out the window and refusing to look at him as he leaned over the back seat to grab a cloth and clean himself off.

"what?" he snapped,"what's with the face?"

you didn't answer him.

"aight,it's like that,then." he grumbled before starting the car.

the drive home had been silent,both of you exhausted and ready to crash.

you were now laying atop the black sheets of his lavish bed,fingers running along the edge of his large t-shirt he had thrown at you,muttering something about - 'since i know you gon' complain' - before hopping in the shower.

part of you wished you hadn't even gone back to his place,feeling sick with guilt. you don't know exactly what he did to the guy,you didnt want to ask,but you knew whatever it was connie must have fucked him up good.

when you heard the sounds of the shower shutting off,you told yourself you were going to act mad,readying yourself by rolling over with your back to the door.

you heard the thuds of his feet grow closer before you sensed his presence stop at the door,grunting when he noticed you were still giving him silent treatment.

a heavy hand came down to smack against your ass,making you jump and shoot him a nasty glare over your shoulder.

"move over,fat butt."

you didn't budge,until you felt the sting of another slap making you roll to get away from the assault.

he slipped into bed,pulling the covers right out from under you to then throw over your figure while he wrapped a tatted arm around your waist to pull you across nearly half the bed to snuggle into his chest. you huffed,defiantly wiggling your hips in an attempt to show him how pissed off you were,you didn't want to cuddle tonight. but he simply squeezed you in warning,grumbling and burying his nose in your neck - "stop fuckin' movin'."

you refused,struggling to slide out of his tight grip on you. you were met with another slap to your ass,cheek stinging with the force of it,much harder than the other ones. he soothed the burn slightly with a rub,gripping your mushy cheek between his fingers and kissing at your shoulder. "i told yo ass stop fuckin' movin'. don't play wit' me."

you debated telling him to fuck off,but the feeling of him pressed against you,putting you in your place was too arousing to try crawl away once more. so you stayed put this time,instead rubbing your hips backward to appease him as he gripped up your hip,placing wet,open-mouthed kisses down your spine.

"your dick hard,perv." you deadpanned,making him chuckle into your skin,smoothing his lips over the intricate lettering tattooed into your back.

"you the one backing yo' shit up."

"you pulled me."

another laugh,"yea,guess i did."

he travelled back up to press his lips against the tip of your ear,running his tongue along the ridge before pressing another,much softer,kiss to the fat of your cheek. "so you gon' come sit on it? help papi out?"

"in your dreams!" you scoffed,knowing damn well you'd be creaming all up on it later.

"ahh— con! 's too much!"

"you a big girl,you can take it." the smack of his swollen balls against your ass had you reeling,practically choking on your own spit as you clawed at his beautiful decorated chest,swirls of red and black clouding your vision while his broad figure leaned right over you. you were being folded in half,knees pressed right up to your chest,blocking your feeble attempts at pushing him away.

the boom of the speaker on his dresser and the pungent smell of weed had you feeling faint,the tip of his dick abusing your sore cervix.:(

"stop fuckin' whinin',actin' like a lil girl." he demanded with a slap to your puffy clit,making you cry out.

he switched positions,dropping your legs and letting the burn of your sore muscles subside for a moment,leaning down to rest his forearms against either side of your head,feeding you his dick in much more fluid strokes rather than a violent pounding.

"mm— 'm not.." you brought two hands to grip at the flesh of his ass,feeling the muscles contract within your palms with each push into you. his brows furrowed,bringing an arm up to grip against the headboard,foreign curses falling from his parted lips.

you laughed lightly,eyes heavy-lidded and a goofy grin spread across your face. "i can tell when you gonna cum,connie.. stop actin' all tuff.. "

soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

#𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#plug!connie #plug!connie smut #plug!eren #attack on titan #aot

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llamagoddessofficial · 6 months ago

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Le gasp..

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs?

Horror likes bashing in heads. He likes that his job means he gets paid to bash in a lot of heads. He doesn't really care that he's considered one of Nightmare's top enforcers, that even the hardest criminals tremble in fear at the mention of his name, that he's called things like the beast and the monster... he just likes that he gets to take out all his worst frustrations on whichever face Nightmare points him to. As a nice bonus, the money he makes means his brother and surviving friends live in safety and comfort.

... But he also likes pretty things. Pretty, soft things, that make him feel fuzzy and warm. You're all three. You find out pretty quick that his frightening face hides a softspoken, sensitive creature, who keeps appearing at your door with flowers (when did you give him your address?) and homemade food. It's bizarre, how such a violent man can equally be so gentle, getting flustered just from you looking at him too long. He wants to do to you what he does with everyone he cares about - use his money to make it so that you never have to worry about anything in life again.

Probably for the best that you let him. He famously doesn't have great control over his temper.

Dust doesn't appear too happy about working for Nightmare. It's clear to anyone watching that Nightmare has something over him; whatever it is, it must be pretty bad, because Dust never questions Nightmare's orders - no matter how terrible or violent. He does exactly what's asked of him, no more, no less. And it's obvious why Nightmare might want to force someone like Dust to work for him... there's no job this silent demon can't do.

Dust, with you, is a different man. He almost becomes his old self again. When you're alone together, he actually smiles. He desperately wants to keep you away from the world he's become trapped in, and he'll probably spend the first few weeks of knowing you trying as hard as he can to separate you from him and the other skeletons. But... he's in love. He can't help it. He's always drawn back to you again, no matter how many times he tells himself he has to let go.

You're his escape. You make him forget the things he's done, and the things he has to keep doing. He's addicted to that feeling.

Killer is Nightmare's right hand. The moniker 'Nightmare's dog' is often used, mostly in an attempt to offend him, but it just makes him laugh. Much like Horror, he very much enjoys his job... he enjoys the power, indulging in his violent desires and getting paid for it. Killer is just about the closest thing Nightmare has to someone he trusts; Killer is privy to many of their 'family's deepest secrets, partly because of his position, but also partly because Nightmare knows Killer genuinely has absolutely zero interest in these massively important secrets. Killer just wants to stab things.

For some reason he seems intent that you trust him. It's really hard to tell what he wants, behind that smile... you're cautious with him, given his clear loyalty to Nightmare. But maybe that loyalty isn't as unshakeable as it seems. It starts with little things... casually lying through his teeth and fully taking the blame for something you did. Conveniently 'forgetting' to mention you around Nightmare. Failing a mission you expressed horror at. Lying about the nature of your personal information, pretending (in front of the guys) that he doesn't know stuff he very much knows.

It's impossible to tell what he wants. But it seems like, whatever it is, he wants it more than all the power he's got now.

Nightmare will obviously want to learn the identity of the person who's somehow managed to completely disarm his three most valuable and violent soldiers. Despite all of them doing their damnedest to keep you out of Nightmare's crosshairs, you can't be hidden forever.

Nightmare is supposed to have everything - there's no luxury he can't afford. But he's always had this... void inside him. It's the very void that pushes him to keep expanding his territory, to keep killing and taking, maybe if he has just that little bit more he'll feel complete. Maybe if he just has that one last shiny thing, he'll be happy. But it's never been enough.

Then he finally meets you. And something clicks.

Dust, Killer and Horror tried so hard to keep you away from Nightmare, because they were terrified of what would happen to you if Nightmare decided he didn't like you. Instead, something much, much worse happened.

Nightmare likes you.

#llamagines #bad sanses #mafia bad sanses

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tabootoji · 3 months ago

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"YOU COLD? LEMME WARM YOU UP..."

✰ - SYNOPSIS: you try to learn more about your cryptic partner, but toji has plans of his own... (OR) you cockwarm toji and he fucks you on the couch while you while you have company over. (ft. naoya zenin & shiu kong) ✰ - WC: 4.0k ✰ - TAGS: age gap, size diff., teasing, pet names, impact play, alcohol use, nipple play, dry humping, cockwarming, exhibitionism, v. penetration, f. orgasm, creampie, (mentions of threesome), no use of (y/n), all lower case, reader is female ✰ - A/N: my first toji fanfic can you tell i'm excited?!?! i ended this with a pretty fluffy ending to my own surprise, so enjoy! (age gap is 10 years, reader in 20's, toji in 30's)

first impressions are important. people use them to determine their initial opinions of you that they'll probably hold on to for as long as they know you. most of the time it's hard to sway them from it once their minds are made up about the type of person they think you are.

which is why you're currently standing in front of your bathroom mirror for the third time in the past 20 minutes to do another check on your hair and outfit. you smooth down your t-shirt and skirt with your hands along with your hair, and take in a deep breath to calm your nerves.

the reason for your anxiety? any minute now you were going to meet your boyfriend's best friend and cousin, two guys on a very short list of people toji seemed bothered enough to care about.

you and toji began dating only recently, but the two of you have been smitten since meeting at a grocery store where he promptly asked you out. you weren't the type to accept date offers from random men you just met, but there was just something about his unwavering confidence and devilishly good looks that made you unable to say no. and oh did toji know how to use his attributes well. you both moved fast, even deciding to move in together after only knowing each other for such a short amount of time.

despite the fast development of your relationship, you cared deeply about the older man, and you enjoy the time you spend together...it's just that you wished you knew more about him.

whenever the two of you are together, you're usually the one doing the most talking while toji listens, with the occasional head nod to show he’s paying attention to whatever you're saying. but he barely talks about himself. you know nothing about any family members or friends, in fact, anything that happened before you met him is a complete mystery to you. you're not even really sure what he does for a living, only knowing him to be a contractor of some sort. at times you're brutally reminded that you're practically living with a stranger.

you've expressed your need to know more about the mysteries you know he’s hiding behind the opaque glass emerald of his eyes, but toji only chalks it down to the fact that he's just a boring older man that just enjoys the simplicities of life. you know he’s lying to you, a man like toji gave everything but the ordinary. but you let the issue go anyway, not wanting to pry.

toji knows how much you want to learn more about the inner workings of his life, and he can admit seeing you act so despondent about it bothers him, which is why he's arranged this hangout - to give you some insight on his complex past. and although you're incredibly excited for this, you’re also extremely on edge. you had to use this miraculous opportunity to ensure that the people most important to toji not only accepted your relationship, but liked you as a person.

in the middle of your thoughts, you hear said boyfriend call out your name, making you jump back into reality. they must be here! you take one more glance into the mirror before coming out of the bathroom.

you rush to the entrance of the apartment where you heard toji's deep voice boom from. "are they outside?" you ask with a slight squeak of your voice as soon as he's within your field of view. toji stands at the front door waiting for you, his tall frame almost surpassing the height of it. he had on his usual wear, black compression top that you always teased him for wearing a couple sizes too small (which he would always answer: "can't ever find any that make my size") and gray sweatpants that held onto his narrow waistline beautifully, then fell loose around his extensive legs.

he bobs his head, answering your question. walking to his side, you watch his verdant eyes take their time to look you up and down. once you're finally within arm's length, toji grabs your waist and pulls you into the lateral side of his solid abdomen, bending down to plant a smooch on your cheek. "relax ma, y'er gonna jump outta y’er skin. don’t worry, they'll love ya."

"okay toji..." you decide to listen to him, attempting to shake the nerves out of your body. "ya look damn good, that's f' sure." he smirks, the scar on his calloused lips curving upwards before he slaps your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise. he then abruptly opens the front door, not giving you anytime to recuperate before your face to face with your visitors. oh how he just loved messing with you.

in the hallway of the complex stood an average built man with a tapered haircut, the sides on the top sticking out. his small yet enigmatic eyes displayed politeness as he smiled at you and toji. beside him was a taller guy with a fitter build, his haughty attitude emitting through his relaxed posture. and if his flashy blonde hair didn't put you off, his edgy piercings did.

you gather yourself quickly, greeting them with a clumsy "hi" and a small wave of your hand. the latter shamelessly gives you a once over blatantly. once it seems he’s determined that he likes what he see’s, he utters a "nice" to toji with a nod of his head, arrogantly pushing his way past you both to enter your apartment. you stand frozen in disbelief, blinking your eyes in confusion. no way he just...?

"shut y'er ass up naoya." toji warns playfully, shoving his shoulder as he passes by. "that's my rude ass obnoxious cousin. this here's shiu." he flicks his thumb towards the dark haired gentleman's direction.

"nice to meet you." he says, his mouth arching up in union, making you take notice of the peach fuzz on top of it that seemed to complete his corporate look. once you've all entered, naoya looks around at the ensemble of the living room with a look of disgust, while toji and shiu begin to catch up with one another. not knowing what to do with yourself, you skittishly announce that you'll go and get drinks for everyone, scurrying into the kitchen.

you rush to the shelf filled with bottles of hard liquor that toji stashed and decide to grab a bottle of whiskey, along with four old fashioned glasses in the neighboring cabinet. as you fill the cups a little more than halfway, you strain your ears to listen into the trio's conversation.

"been a while since i've seen you. this meetup all of a sudden? ya must be serious about this one."

"sure am, so quit ya gawking dickhead."

you hear shiu snicker at the two’s playful banter while you set the glasses on a tray, building up the courage to head back into the main room. you stride to the three, holding out the platter to serve them their drinks. toji and shiu thank you before taking a swig of theirs, while naoya cockily snatches his own wordlessly and goes to take a seat at one of the lounge chairs in the room, leaving the three of you to join him on the corresponding arm chair and couch.

when you're all seated, shiu turns his attention to you and toji. "so fushiguro, how'd ya manage to trick such a cute girl into dealing with'ya?" he jests, leaning forward onto his knees and taking another gulp of the dark substance. after sipping your own, you already start to feel the liquid amplify your bravery as you ease up for the first time since your guests arrived.

"he's not so bad." you say sarcastically, leaning on his brawny arm. "oh yeah?" toji combats smugly, wrapping it around you and laying his rough palm on your hip. shiu peers at the two of you with a look of appreciation. naoya mutters "how cute." with a roll of his eyes.

"toji's never told me how you both know each other." you blurt out, not missing a beat. with your newfound boldness, you weren't going to waste anymore time not utilizing this chance to learn more secrets about your lover. toji’s gaze raises from yours to shiu's, who's already silently watching him. the two exchange a wordless stare down for a while, shiu being the one to break it with a laugh. "we used to work together, a long time ago." he finally says. you glance at toji and he's guzzling down his beverage, seemingly refusing to elaborate. hm, that was definitely something...but what?

"this meaningless chit chat bores me." naoya suddenly announces, swirling his chair to the direction of the tv in the room and turning it on with the remote he somehow found to flip through the channels, forcing everyone to watch his selected program. looking at the group's glasses on the table in the middle of you all, you realize the guy's have already finished their spirits. you take it upon yourself to clear the area, getting up and gathering everyone's empty cups besides yours back on the plate to put into the sink back in the kitchen.

once you return, it looks like naoya has decided on a film to watch. the lights are off, the television providing the only dim light in the small area while all eyes were trained onto the moving pictures. as you're about to take your seat next to toji, he swiftly takes your arm, pulling you to him to plop onto his lap instead. "wrong seat girl." he whispers, making you shiver slightly when you feel his hot breath hit your clavicle.

toji wastes no time holding your small frame with his arms that are more than twice your size, adjusting both of you so he could lean his back on the plush sofa, and you could lean on his broad, sturdy chest. he's rubbing small circles on the exposed skin of your hip with his thumb, and you can already feel his budding erection poke you from beneath your skirt that barely covered your crotch.

you may not know much about the enigma of toji fushiguro, but there is one thing he's made sure to make apparent to you very quickly after the two of you got together: the fact that he's a total horn ball. the man always needed to have his hands on some part of your body whenever you were together. and it's not like you don't enjoy the physical attention, you were just hoping that toji could master some self control, especially in front of others.

at first, you only feel occasional pecks on the back of your neck caused by him pressing his moist lips onto various sites of your nape. then, toji's hand moves from your waist to underneath your shirt. this evening, you decided to forego a bra and instead wore pasties to cover your nipples, which he easily peeled off to expose them. the cotton material of your shirt rubbing against the swell of your chest coupled with the hasty grazes of toji's hand already leaves them stiff, ready to be played with.

he takes one of your peaks in between the rough pads of his fingers and gives it a teasing pinch, almost making you leap right out of his lap. chuckling at your reaction, toji then uses his knuckles to gently twist the other, planting his mouth right below your neckline and sucking on the skin there.

you bite the inner flesh of your cheek at the prickling sensations that start to rush through you, very sure you've already made a mess of your panties from toji's touches. the alcohol you've been drinking is doing wonders for your assertiveness, and your libido, because you begin to rub your groin against his growing bulge, seeking relief at the neediest part of your body.

for a while toji leaves you be, grunting softly at the friction from your humping. he feels your damp underwear on his clothed cock as you rut against him like a dog. suddenly, he pushes you forward momentarily to fidget with the drawstrings of his joggers. when you turn around to see what he's doing, your eyes sparkle in amazement and excitement at the sight of toji's fat cock lying on his abdomen, his swollen head already threatening to dribble precum onto his shirt. he pulls you back till you're close enough for him to mutter in your ear. "sit on my cock doll face"

if you were sober, you'd have already reprimanded toji for being such a pervert, especially in front of their guests. worst case scenario you'd have at least snuck him into the bathroom and dealt with him there. but the liquor was making you feel more and more risque as the seconds passed.

so you reach forward and grab your lone glass to take another sip of its bitter contents. arching your back, you make sure toji has a good view of your ass. once you confirm he has when you hear him hiss "oh shit..." you pull your panties to the side to uncover your drooling cunt. you set your cup down and take a deep breath to brace yourself, taking toji's dick to align with your awaiting pussy before slowly sinking down onto it.

"fuck..." he breaths out once you finally manage to take in all of his thick girth. he rests his head on your shoulder, holding you even closer to his solid body. you can feel the mass of toji's penis expand your squishy insides, the bulb of his cockhead pressing against your cervix deliciously. your tight, moist hole provides a snug hold to his large shaft. was it always this hot? a bead of sweat falls off your brow as you try not to bring attention to yourself.

but when toji returns to tugging on your taut nubs while he licks up and down your slender throat, your mixed fluids seeping out of your conjunction, you almost let out a moan before shiu abruptly breaks the silence in the room. "hey fushiguro, win any bets lately?' he asks, freezing the both of you in your tracks.

toji clears his throat, remaining cool calm and collected as always. "nah, not yet. m' not worried though. been feelin' real lucky lately." he answers, satisfied at the clench of your pussy around his member at his suggestive words. shiu simply lets out a snicker, continuing to watch the television.

whew, that was close. "you cold baby?" toji asks you all of a sudden. you give him a confused raise of your eyebrow, baffled by his worry of your temperature now of all times. "poor thing, ya got goosebumps all over ya." he teases you, running his digits up and down your arms. "don't worry, got just tha' thing to warm ya up..."

taking a blanket on the other side of the couch, toji lifts you up with one arm like your weight is nothing to him. he lays you both on your sides, covering your bodies with the rug. his previous question finally clicks for you once the two of you are situated in this new position, one of his large palms gripping your bent leg while the other supports the side of his skull so he can look down at you.

it'd be risky, but naoya seems to have fallen asleep, and shiu appeared to be entertained enough with whatever program was on to pay you guys any mind. all you had to do was try and stay as quite and still as possible till toji was finished. hell, who were you kidding? you needed him just as badly. if toji didn't move inside of you soon, you thought you were going to combust.

you get your wish when he begins slowly thrusting into you. "i...change my mind, ah...you're bad all the time." you moan quietly. toji seems to be making each stroke count, plunging deeply into you with every push of his hips. he bends down to kiss your hot temple with a cocky grin. "and ya love it."

toji ended up being right, because if you thought you were hot before, you're sure that you're boiling now. nevermind the blanket serving as cover while toji fucks you, you were enveloped by the warmth of his tight embrace, his large body caging your small one against him. you try your best not to squirm, covering your mouth with your hand in case any lewd sounds fell from your lips as toji continued to drag his cock against the goopy walls of your pussy.

it was getting harder and harder for toji to contain himself as well. he wanted nothing more than to fuck the living daylights out of you, like he always does. he had half a mind to throw his guests out right now so he could thoroughly have his way with you. though he could admit this was another level of naughtiness that turned him on even more from doing this in secret.

by going so agonizingly slow, toji could take his time to not only feel each and every inch of you, he could admire how cute you looked trying to contain yourself as he stuffed you with his bulky cock. each time he was fully inside of you, he paused to stare at your pretty face scrunch up as you took all of him, the weight of his hefty member prominent.

he's partly surprised he's even able to go this far with you right now, given the current circumstances. but seeing how cock hungry you are for him, uncaringly giving into your lustrous cravings just as he was fills his heart with a mixture of adoration and desire.

a layer of your slick coats the rim of toji's rigid dick, allowing him to easily slide inside of your warm mound. you start to push your butt back to meet his tantalizing jabs halfway, causing toji's breath to hitch in his throat. he looks forward to make sure the added movements haven't caught the attention of his friend and cousin. once he's confirmed that the coast is still clear, toji returns to focusing on the leisurely pace of his throbbing cock.

your bosom bounces off of his lap each time he drives himself into you, and the way you pivot your hips back and forth allows toji to reach even deeper inside of you, your g-spot being consistently stimulated by the round end of his shaft. wet strings of your combined arousal begin to form and snap, and it all becomes too much for toji as he lets his head fall behind you. he uses both of his arms to cuddle your waist to hold you still, afraid that he’ll cum just from the gracious movement of your hips alone.

now that he has a good hold on you, the force toji uses to propel further into you knocks you forward each time. he’s squeezing you so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear from him. and when he begins to flick the sensitive nub in between your legs, you fear your chest will cave in from the pleasure at any moment.

toji rubs your responsive bundle of nerves with his long digits, using the wetness your pussy made from being played with. an overflowing amount of your sap leaks down onto his pelvis as he continues to use your body like his own personal flesh light. he peppers the length of your neck with kisses before gliding his tongue against the veins protruding from it. you can feel the indentation of his scar as his lips brush your pulse.

you feel toji's desperation as he rocks you back and forth; he's close, and you want nothing more than to feel him erupt inside of you. you reach underneath to clasp onto his weighty nutsacks. toji almost chokes on his own breath when he feels you start to massage them with your soft hands. you take both masses into your palms, utilizing the moisture from your sex and rubbing prominent circles into his scrotum. for fuck's sake, it was like you were manually attempting to milk him dry.

both of your heads fog from the overwhelming satisfaction you were giving each other. neither of you were even sure if you were still doing a good enough job keeping up your facade of ‘cuddling', too entrapped with the task of helping the other climb up their ladder of gratification. toji sinks his canines into your collarbone while you press your face into the cushions of the couch to muffle your noises as you both reach your climax.

with a final thrust, toji stills inside of you before emptying his load into your awaiting womb. hot ropes of his cum shoot inside of your trembling cunt, and it's so much. toji always cum's like a horse, but this particular time it's like its never ending, to the point where it begins seeping out of your pussy that's still contracting around him from your own release.

the combination of the heat of the moment plus the liquor must aid in your exhaustion, because your eyelids close right away, ushering you into slumber. toji takes a moment to calm his rapid heart beat by controlling his erratic breathing, bathing in the tranquility from his orgasm. the slow rise and fall of your body tells him you've already fallen asleep, which makes him chuckle.

oh but toji was far from done with you. his engorged balls that were still filled with more of his cum twitched as his cock began springing back to life. the velvety texture of your inner walls that still gripped his length even in your sleep had him rock hard again in no time.

he contemplates waking you back up, knowing you'd probably feel bad later about falling asleep while your guests were still over. but his good girl worked hard to be a good hostess, and a good cock sleeve, so he opts to letting you rest for now. you'd need it anyway, especially for what he has planned for you later after he kicks his companions out.

speaking of, toji looks up at the two in question who, in his opinion, were now overstaying their welcome. naoya is still knocked out, snoring obnoxiously with his mouth hung open. but to toji's surprise, shiu was not only still wide awake, he was already looking back at him knowingly.

"you know, you two aren't as sneaky as you may think you are." he says, shaking his head with a tsk. not seeming too affected about being caught, toji shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear while admiring your sleeping form. "what can i say? can't keep my hands off of her."

humming in acknowledgement, shiu speaks again, a sly grin on his face. "fuck your girlfriend on your own time. or at the very least, ask me to join, like old times." toji makes eye contact with his old friend, a long pregnant pause stilling the room.

his first reaction was to entertain shiu's comment with a snide response of his own, which has always been the nature of their friendship. however, as toji looks down at the girl who's managed to capture his mind, body, and heart, someone who was able to awaken emotions inside of him he thought he abandoned a long time ago, he can’t bring himself to joke around about the most important person in his life: you.

"nah, not with her." toji finally says, giving your forehead another kiss and gazing at you lovingly as you continue to sleep peacefully. observing the tender moment between you two, shiu smiles to himself, content with seeing his friend express genuine happiness after so long. "she must be real special."

"yeah, she is."

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