#cause my insides are red and yours are too
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Arcane Women Strap Hcs
characters: sevika, vi, caitlyn, mel, ambessa
A/N barely proofread sorry, also my first time writing for arcane please be kind đ i hope yâall enjoy lmk your thoughts :)
Sevika
first things first she has a dark purple strap iâm talking almost the same color that shimmer is and boy does she know how to use it
whenever she pulls the strap out be prepared to not be able to walk the next day
she prefers to fuck you in missionary but if she had to choose a different position it would be fucking you from the bottom, she just loves to be able to see your face while she pleasures you
her strap game is DIABOLICAL, she always makes sure to hit that spot inside you that makes you let out a squeal and causes your toes to curl
honestly she could just cum from fucking you alone but if you feel up to it once sheâs done with you she loves when you eat her out after
âthatâs it baby, youâre taking me so well just a little moreâ
Vi
vi screams black strap to me like it just makes sense
she prefers to fuck you slow and DEEP, iâm talking girly lifts your hips off the bed and grips them so hard that you can feel bruises form
shes so cocky about it too like she knows sheâs good
viâs another one that could cum from pleasuring you alone and 9/10 times she does, however the one time she doesnât she will literally sit on your face once youâre well enough to take care of her
âthat feel good pretty girl ? yeah i know it does, youâre always so good for meâ
Caitlyn
dark blue strap sorry yall i donât make the rules
caitlyn loves when youâre on top and sheâs fucking you from below
she revels in the sight of you falling apart above her while sheâs gripping your hips guiding you
sheâs 100% a brat tamer and you canât tell me any different
âoh darling is it too much ? you shouldnât have behaved like that if you didnât want me to fuck you like thisâ
Mel
HEAR YE HEAR YE she has a gold strap idc idc
mel also likes it when youâre on top however she prefers to gently guide your movements while she praises you
donât let that mislead you tho shes a HUGE tease
she can and will make you edge yourself until youâre literally crying begging her to let you cum
â my love you look so beautiful when you ask nicely like that, go ahead and take what you needâ
Ambessa
ruby red strap thatâs all imma say
the cruelest of the bunch, sheâs not afraid to leave you dry while she takes what she needs
another brat tamer yall you love to see it
she doesnât make love she FUCKS, be prepared to constantly be buying new headboards
she makes you suck on her strap NEXTTTTT
âsweet girl did you think iâm finished with you ? no no we arenât done until you canât remember anything but my nameâ
#dividers from cafekitsune#sevika x reader#sevika smut#vi x reader#vi smut#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn kiramman smut#mel medarda x reader#mel medarda smut#ambess medarda x reader#ambessa medarda smut#arcane x reader#arcane smut#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane league of legends
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The Wolf now is Concerned. He isn't invested. He refuses to be invested in humans. Humans are food, not friends.
And yet. This utter sad sack needs help and Hairy McLumberjack is too busy fussing around with trees to do more than look in and tut occasionally.
And, it isn't like the Wolf can roam much. He had a serious surgery to get Steven out of his stomach. He needs recovery time.
It only makes sense that he recovers at Steve's. It's all Steve's fault anyway, if you think about it.
Steve is still mourning his relationship with Denise and dealing with his recent near-death experience. The latter would be easier if the cause of said-near-death experience hadn't decided to take over Steve's bed.
The Wolf is a demanding and infuriating roommate, but the more time they spend on bickering, the less time Steve has to feel sorry for himself. He ends up developing a new passion for cooking out of pure spite--he will prove to the Wolf that there are many better options for eating than 'raw human.'
"So raw my heart was literally still beating, Wolf."
"The better to warm my stomach, Steve."
It is when Little Red is visiting again, more than a week after the Wolf last felt a twinge of pain in his torso, that everything changes again.
"Mama said to invite you to dinner, Uncle Steve," Little Red says. "You can come, too, Uncle Wolf."
Steve and the Wolf meet each other's horrified gaze as they both realize the domestic comfort they've found and created in each other.
That night, long after Little Red has returned home, the Wolf says he's leaving and he goes.
For the first time in weeks, Steve doesn't have to share his bed.
(After the first few nights when the Wolf had claimed his bed, Steve decided he was not going to be forced to the couch again. They each dared the other to leave the bed if they were 'too uncomfortable' to share. Neither left. Neither ever admitted, in the weeks that followed, how nice it was to have someone else there.)
He can't sleep.
In the morning, he eats some berries for breakfast. Lunch is a leftover soup. Dinner is more of the same.
Cooking is less fun on his own, less fun when he doesn't have the Wolf stealing his ingredients and making sly comments from the side.
Meanwhile, the Wolf is in the forest and utterly refusing to admit that his rabbit is a bit gamey, that its flesh would be better shredded with a spicy sauce and served over whipped potatoes. He is a Wolf. He doesn't need cooked food. He doesn't want it.
The flesh and blood are warm in his mouth, but they do not heat his belly like one of Steve's stews. The forest is so unreasonably cold.
And lonely.
"He tried to eat me, Laura," Steve complains to his sister, Little Red's mother.
"From what I understand, he successfully ate you. That lumberjack cut you free, no?"
"The lumberjack! Now, he would make sense. He's handsome, right? Saved my life even. If I had to-- why couldn't I have--" the words won't come out. Steve's never been attracted to anyone male before.
Until the Wolf.
His face flushes bright red and his sister sighs. "You could do worse than that Wolf, Steve."
He buries his face in his hands.
The Wolf goes by the cabin when he knows Steve will be in town, attending the dinner Little Red had invited them to, the dinner that ruined everything.
The ice box has no ice and the plants inside are limp and shriveled. A stew pot, crusted with the dried remnants of broth, sits on the stove. Another pot is half-full with congealed oatmeal.
The Wolf refuses to feel guilty. He is a wild creature. He is not meant to live within four walls like some domesticated dog.
He washes the pots and tosses the ruined vegetables and herbs. It is during this last task that he runs into the lumberjack.
"Glad to see you're back" the Lumberjack says. "He's been missing you."
I'm not back, the Wolf wants to snarl, and, What business is it of yours? Instead, he says, "I don't belong here."
The lumberjack shrugs. "Well, I don't know about that. I think we belong wherever we love and are loved."
"So, what, you're having a love affair with a hundred trees? Do you chop them down after you break-up?" It isn't his best line, but the lumberjack laughs anyway.
"My love was turned into a tree and hidden in this wood. Someday I will find and free him from his curse. Until then, my job gives me more than enough time to search."
"So you're saying it could be worse," the Wolf says. "I could be in love with a tree."
The lumberjack's smile broadens and he nods. "Instead you're only in love with a man."
It is only then that the Wolf realizes what he'd said. The truth of it warms him inside out. "I'm going to go back inside."
He doesn't say he's going to stay. That's what he means anyways.
The next morning, carrying a basket of leftovers, Steve returns to his cabin. He is dreading being alone again, but he cannot live in his sister's house.
He wants the Wolf. He doesn't understand how or why the Wolf has become so important to him, but maybe that doesn't matter. He just wants that strange and frustrating beast back in his kitchen, his bedroom, his life.
He has decided to track down the Wolf just as he's opening his cabin door.
And the Wolf is there.
Glass shatters as the basket falls from his hand. The Wolf's coat is warm and musky under his hands and cheek. His snout presses cool against Steve's neck. His claws prick lightly along his back. Steve can barely think for the utter relief flooding through him.
"I'm back," the Wolf says, unnecessarily. He is holding Steve as tightly as Steve is holding him.
Neither can quite feel embarrassed by their reactions to one another given the other is reacting quite the same.
"Good," Steve says. "Stay."
"Wild creatures don't belong indoors," the Wolf warns. He wants to stay, but some fear lingers. He can only promise now, not forever.
Steve, though, is unconcerned. He steps back, looking his Wolf in the eye. He lifts a hand to his Wolf's maw and traces a thumb along the seam of his mouth, the same mouth and sharp teeth that had once devoured him. "Since when," he asks, "have you cared about arbitrary rules?"
The Wolf flicks his tongue against Steve's thumb. "Since when, indeed."
inspiration struck in a really, really weird way
#steve and the wolf#not!fic#this rather got away from me#i did not mean to write this much#but it just kept growing#that comic was very inspiring
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nice boys donât kiss like that
summary: when your former rival chances upon your diary and reads all the unpleasant things youâve written about him, he takes it upon himself to change your mind.
pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: fluff, developing relationship!au, rivals to lovers!au, pining, kind of suggestive? idk word count: 3.3k
âł warnings: profanity, making out âł a/n: inspired by this scene from bridget jonesâs diary. reposted from my old account.
It is on a twilit Saturday evening, at precisely 7:01 P.M, that Kim Mingyu is accosted by a notebook for the first time in his life.
He lets out a startled grunt and finds himself with an armful of thingsâa denim jacket, a crumpled grocery shopping list, an empty box of Tic Tacs, a woollen beanie with a questionable brown stain he thinks is ketchup; all presumably from whatever depths of your drawer he can see you hunched over, searching for something that remains stubbornly elusive. The offensive projectile whizzes past his shoulder and lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud.
Mingyu stands at the doorway to your bedroom, having bypassed the living room and hallway that leads to the kitchen in favour of pressing heated kisses to your cheeks and collarbones. He watches you, bemused. A few weeks ago, he mightâve laughed at your frazzled state with derision. Now, he still wants to laugh, but more in an affectionate way.
You turn around swiftly, nearly tripping on a stray stocking on the floor, and he bites back a smile when you mumble a string of curse words under your breath.Â
âHi,â you say, breathing heavily. âIâm really sorry.â
Then you slam the door shut on his face.
Well, Mingyu thinks. This is the first time a girlâs closed the door when Iâm in her apartment.
Faced with nothing else to do except wait for your arrival, he drops the Tic Tac box on the floor, hangs your jacket and beanie on the back of the sofa, and almost stubs his toe on the corner of the notebook.
Wincing at the close call, Mingyu glares at the book like itâs the cause of all his troubles. DIARY, it reads, embossed in ornate gold letters. The cover is a rich shade of red, rough and leather-bound. He picks it up; itâs rather heavy, and judging by the frayed corners and the random bits of paper poking out of the sides, it seems to be quite old too. Regardless, it is well-cherishedâhe knows this because he knows you, and youâre the kind of person who wears your heart on your sleeve.
Which is why he knows opening it is a bad idea.Â
Mingyu shrugs and places the book on the coffee table, taking a seat on the plush, olive green sofa opposite it. He leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers under his chin. From the inside of your room, he can hear muffled screamingâshould he be worried? The screaming stops. Mingyu lets his tense shoulders relax.
His eyes zero in on your diary once more. He shouldnât open itâhe really, really shouldnât. It would be a horrible breach of your privacy. Your trust in him would be broken forever, and even if he somehow manages to win it back, it will always be a stain in the fabric of your still-developing relationship.
But.
One tiny peek canât hurt, right? Heâs only waiting for you to come out of your room, after all. Just one little look, and then heâll close the book immediately. It canât possibly hurt. Curiosity is both a blessing and a vice, he figures, and since heâs already stacked up on vices, there is no harm in adding to his karmic points.
So he picks up your diary and flips to a random page, freezing momentarily when he hears an irritated grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor from inside your room. Your handwriting is a lot messier than it usually is; you probably save your best penmanship for official things, and your personal diary is not one of them. That, or you were just frustrated.
12th June I fucking hate Kim Mingyu. I hope I never have to see him and his stupid handsome obnoxious face EVER AGAIN. Iâm so DONE with him.
Mingyuâs cheeks prickle with heat. Heâs thoroughly invested now. He turns to another page.
14th June Ran into KMG again today. He spilled coffee all over me what else is new but. he actually apologised!!! Crazy. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way, my new blouse is ruined so fuck him.
The strangest thing is that Mingyu actually remembers that day vividly. You were wearing a gorgeous cream-coloured blouse, and he was so caught up in staring at you talking animatedly with your supervisor that he zoned out completely and accidentally spilled his coffee on you because he tripped over his shoelaces. Now, knowing that your blouse was new at the time brings up a slight twinge of guilt. Heâll ask you about it later.
22nd June KMG is actuallyâŠâŠ kinda nice? He supported me in the meeting today with the clients when they were being so tiresome. He has a nice smile I guess.
Mingyu smiles widely.Â
23rd June Nevermind. I take back everything I said. Kim Mingyu is a prat with zero social skills. I mean, would it kill him to say hello back??? I get that heâs busy but i thought weâd made progress. One thing is for sure. Kim Mingyu is NOT nice. Not even a little bit.
His smile falters.
The next page contains a similar anecdoteâsomething about how he always vehemently disagrees with everything you say, and how despite his good looks he was a complete and utter asshole. Further investigation reveals the same thing: you hate Kim Mingyu with a burning passion.
And⊠Well, he couldnât lie and say the feeling wasnât mutual at one point in timeâbut it has mellowed down since then, gently and slowly, like a fallen leaf being carried by a soft wind. There came a day where Mingyu found himself glaring at you, not with disdain in his eyes, but with a steady thrum in his chest where his heart lay. Later, he would realise that he didnât hate youânot even a little bit.
He assumed you felt the same way. Why else would your smirks, so full of malice, melt into grins that could light up a whole town? Why else would you agree to go on a date with him when he asked you out, one day, after work, tripping over his words like an elementary schoolboy? Why else would you invite him home and ask him to spend the night?
Of course, it doesnât explain why youâve locked yourself up in your bedroom currently (frankly, heâs a bit befuddled about that). But the sentiment must still be there.
Itâs a diary, he reasons.Â
Itâs your diary, his brain screams back, and thatâs the real issue here, isnât it?
Diaries are full of crap, anyway, he thinks to himself.
Diaries contain the Real Thoughts And Emotions of a human being, his brain hollers back.
Mind swirling, Mingyu closes the book and places it back on the coffee table, barely aware of his movements. Have you been lying to him? No, thereâs absolutely no wayâhe trusts you far more than that, and besides, what would you even lie to him about? There are no benefits to stringing him along, and youâre not the kind of person who would do something like that, anyway.
You must have had a change of heart, then. Thatâs the only conclusion he can think of. Your diary entries come to a standstill after 27th June, which means you havenât opened it in a while. Itâs also around the same time you stopped picking fights with each other. Something must have changed by then; Mingyu is glad it did.
Satisfied with his deduction, Mingyu stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles together. Behind your bedroom door, you remain suspiciously silent. He considers knocking on the door once to make sure youâre okayâor if you need any help, because staying put inside your room for over twenty minutes is certainly not normal when you have a guest and potential boyfriend over.Â
Almost as if youâve heard his thoughts, the door to your room swings open. You stand at the doorway, breathing heavily.
âHey,â Mingyu says, quickly standing up. âEverything good?â
You beam at him. âPerfect. Sorry to have kept you waiting, Iââ
Your gaze drops to the coffee table, landing on your diary. Mingyu keeps his gaze fixed on you. You look back at him, lips parted.Â
âUm,â you begin. âItâsâ Itâs just a diary.â
âClearly.â Mingyu fights back a smile.
You chew your bottom lip nervously. âDid you read it?â
âI did,â he confirms, nodding. âIâm sorry. I was just curiousââ
You groan, lifting your hands and covering your face with your palms. âFuck.â
Mingyu reaches out and encircles your wrists with his fingers, gently tugging your hands away from your face. He finds it oddly endearing. âItâs only a diary. Iâm sorry I read it. I shouldnât have.â
âI donât care about that. You⊠you probably read all the horrible, mean things I wrote about you.â
âWell,â he says, shrugging a little, âsome of the entries were definitely⊠interesting.â
You blink. Unable to help himself, Mingyu drops a light kiss to the tip of your nose.
âI donât hate you, you know,â you tell him.
âMhm.â
âIâm serious.â
âMhm.â
âMingyu.â
âIâll tell you what I think about your diary later, âkay?â he says, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. âCome with me.â
âWhat? Where?â Confusion paints your features.
Mingyu huffs out a laugh. âJust trust me.â
Mingyu places the brand-new diary heâd bought for you on the dining table with a flourish. âDâyou have a pen?â
You eye him suspiciously, gaze darting between him and the new, dark green notebook on the table. He grins, carefree and indulgent. Still wary, you hand him a blue ballpoint pen from the pen stand placed above the drawers to the left. He hums and uncaps it.
Flipping open the book to the first page, he bends down and writes slowly.
This book belongs to Kim Mingyu and
Mingyu stops writing and holds the pen out expectantly to you. âHere. Write your name.â
Confused, but curious, you oblige. Your name, written in your handwriting, next to his own semi-legible scrawl, makes a warm, affectionate feeling bubble up inside his chest. He wonders what it would look like when both your names are signed next to each other on a marriage certificate. Then, he wonders when and where your wedding would take place. A summer wedding sounds nice, but the sweltering heat might be a bit of a problem. Winter weddings are beautiful for sure, but neither of you is a big fan of the cold.
Heâs in the process of thinking of names for your children and pet dog when you break him out of his daze.Â
âHey. Whatâs all this about, hm?â You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours.
Mingyu says, âItâs a diary, but for both of us.â
You glance at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He swings an arm over your shoulder and draws you closer to him, smiling when flyaway strands of your hair tickle his cheek.Â
âIn your old diary, it was pretty obvious you, uh, didnât like me much,â he explains, holding up his free hand when you open your mouth to protest. âI donât blame you. We were assholes to each other most of the time. But weâve moved past that. At least, I hope we have.â
Your reply is instantaneous. âOf course. Of course, we have.â
Mingyu trails his fingers absent-mindedly over your arm. âRight. And⊠Itâs kind of silly, I guessâI donât knowâbut I thoughtâif we kept a new diary together, one that we could use to document our journey, with both our perspectives in the same placeâI thought it would be nice.â
Your mouth parts and you look at him, an indiscernible expression on your face. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly nervous. You donât betray any hint of emotion on your face, but Mingyuâs heart hammers inside his chest. What if you think heâs being silly and overly sentimental? What if you find the idea ridiculous?
âWe donât have to if you donât want to,â he quickly backtracks. âI know weâve only just moved past the idea of being more than friends, butââ He stops himself.
âButâŠ?â you gently prompt him, twisting around to see him better.
Mingyu swallows. âBut I canât imagine not being with you.â
He hears your sharp intake of breath, and in the next moment, the breath is knocked out of his lungs when you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight, rib-squeezing hug. Automatically, his arms circle your waist, and he presses a light, barely-there kiss to the junction of your neck and jaw.Â
Eyes shining happily, you pull back slightly with a wide grin on your face. âYouâre so hopelessly romantic, it makes my chest hurt.â
âConsider this your trial run. If you donât like it, Iâll stop.â
âDonât you dare.â
He sighs, content. âOkay, I wonât.â
âWhat should our first diary entry be about?â you ask, loosening your hold on him.
âAbout how you ditched me inside your house for almost half an hour after you invited me over.â Heâs only half-joking.
You look away, embarrassed and sheepish. âI can explain.â
âIâm sure you can.â
âIâm being serious, Mingyu.â
âSo youâve said,â he agrees breezily.
âActually,â you begin, a tad shy, âI was thinking it could be about thisâabout how you bought us a diary and then kissed me in front of the dining table after we christened the book.â
Mingyuâs eyes widen, but before he can get a word in edgewise, your lips are already centimetres away from his. âMay I?â you whisper.
âYeah. âCourse,â he murmurs back.
The kiss makes him feel dizzy, like heâs had one too many bottles of sodaâfizzy and light-headed. Your lips are soft, mouth warm; you taste like chocolate, and he licks into your mouth desperately. His fingers dig into your waist, bunching up the material of your t-shirt, and you run your hand through his hair, tugging gently. Heâs kissed you before, of course, but something about this time feels important, a core memory sort of thing. Later that night, heâll sit beside you on your bed and watch as you write in your shared diary, and heâll make fun of the way you chew on your pen cap when youâre thinking of what to write next and youâll shut him up with a kiss.
But for now, he indulges himself whole-heartedly. You let out little gasps which he swallows with his mouth. He tilts his head and kisses you deeper. Only when his lungs are burning does he pull away, and even then, not without a parting peck to the space in between your eyebrows.
âMingyu,â you say, breathless.Â
âYeah?â he responds, unable to tear his gaze off of your kiss-bitten lips.
âI really am sorry about what I wrote about you,â you apologise, looking down once and then back at him. âItâs only a diaryâeveryone knows diaries are full of crap.â
âI know.â Mingyu smiles tenderly. âIâm not mad.â
âYou should be. I would be, if I was in your place.â
His eyes dart back to meet yours, and he grimaces. âIf you really think about it, Iâm the one who should be apologising, not you. I shouldnât have read your diary, no matter how curious I was.â
âI⊠donât really care about that, weirdly enough,â you say thoughtfully. âI was more worried about the fact that you thought I hated you and you were gonna leave me. Not so much about you reading the diary itself.â
âPfft,â Mingyu says, affectionately condescending. âIf I left you, where would I go?â
Your mouth parts as you stare at him, dumbfounded. âJesus. How do you say things like that unironically?â
âI could compose whole sonnets about you and it wouldnât be enough.â
âThatâs ironic, I hope.â
He tilts his head and pulls you close. âOnly one way to find out.â
When he captures your lips with his this time, itâs with colliding bodies and biting teeth. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip, and you shudder in his arms, moaning. Somehow, you stumble back into the living room, a mess of tangled limbs.
Briefly pulling away, Mingyu sits down on the same sofa heâd occupied earlier and clumsily pulls you onto his lap. You brace your hands on his shoulders for support, lifting your head up when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.
âFuck, Mingyu,â you gasp, eyes falling shut.
He hums against your skin. âTell me what you were doing in your room for so long.â
âI wasâahâitâs embarrassing.â
Mingyu stops his movements. âI wonât judge you.â
âI know,â you say, teeth worrying your lower lip. âIâll tell you someday.â
When you purse your lips, ready for him to kiss you again, Mingyu lets out a soft laugh. âSweetheart.â
âWhat?âÂ
âI think I need to correct some of your⊠perceptions of me,â he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your back.
You furrow your eyebrows. âWhat?â
âIâm sorry about your blouse,â he whispers. âYou looked really pretty wearing it, you know. Got distracted. Couldnât take my eyes off you.â
âMingyu, I donât know what youâre talkingââ You gasp when he kisses the column of your throat.
âIâm sorry for being obnoxious,â he continues, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. âBut Iâm not sorry you think Iâm handsome.â
âOnly your face,â you mutter, but you tug on his hair to get him to tilt his head up. When he does, you kiss him again, your hands warm and placed on the junctions where his neck meets his shoulders.Â
âIâll support you in more than just meetings,â he says, pulling back. His breath ghosts over your lips, prompting a shiver to pass through your body. Your eyes widen when you finally, finally realise what heâs talking about. âIâll tell those stupid clients to shut up and take it.â
You laugh, bright and happy, and Mingyu wants to bottle the sound up greedily. âThat sounds kinda wrong,â you say.
He shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. âIâm sorry for ignoring you when you said hi to me. I wonât do it ever again.â
You laugh again, teeth flashing in the warm glow of the living room lights.
Thereâs an odd feeling in Mingyuâs chestâsomething warm and goldenâsomething he can only describe as being terribly, hopelessly lovesick for you.
He whispers your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth. âTell me what you were doing in your room for so long.â
You groan again, your previous amusement turning into embarrassment. Your next words are muffled by his shoulder, your lips warm against his clavicle as you mumble something only you can understand.
âWhatâs that? I couldnât hear you,â Mingyu says mischievously.
 Another sound of mortification.
âI wonât laugh,â he says. âPromise.â
âUnderwear,â you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. âI was searching for a better pair of underwear than the one I had on.â
To his credit, Mingyu really doesnât laugh. It takes a lot of effort, though, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his giggles from escaping.Â
You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. âOh, go on. I know youâre dying to laugh.â
He shakes his head, cheeks blown out like a pufferfish. You stare at him quietly.
Minutes later, he exhales shakily. âSee? I didnât laugh. Iâm a nice guy.â
His lips find yours again, slower and more languorous this time. After all, he has all the time in the world nowâto hold you like this, kiss you gentlyâand he plans to cherish each second. Your tongue swipes his lower lip, and he parts his mouth willingly. He feels like putty underneath you, as he uses one of his hands to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your lips move against his, already familiar, but he could never stop craving it.
When you pull back to breathe, your eyes are wide and your lips are swollenâa fact that Mingyu notes with pride.
âNice boys donât kiss like that,â you breathe out.
âOh, yes, they fucking do.â
#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#mingyu fluff#seventeen fluff#mingyu scenarios#seventeen scenarios#mingyu x you#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt scenarios#svt x you#seventeen#kim mingyu#mingyu
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A TICKET IN YOUR NAME
pairing : tobio kageyama x f!reader summary : the charity auction you're in charge of is closing in, and there's still a ticket reserved in his name. your executives are on your neck about wanting a clear answer if the pro player will be able to attend - with no regards for the fact that you broke up three months ago cw : pro player!kageyama, break up, post-timeskip, reader wears a dress, angst, bittersweet, heavy yearning, regret, slight profanity, lowkey self indulgent lol, no use of y/n word count : 5.8k
âKageyama? Hey, itâs me.â
A ray of cold ran down his spine as your all too familiar voice rang in his ear, tearing painfully at his heart from the first syllable. God, how he had missed those melodic vibrations he now only heard in his dreams.
When the unknown number popped up on his phone screen, his first instinct was to let it go straight to voicemail. But for whatever reason, the voice in the back of his mind told him he should pick it up â he definitely didnât expect to be greeted with the unforgettable tone of your voice, causing his heart to bang against its cage.
And you had called him Kageyama, instantly pulling out the amateur stitching he had applied to the tears in his heart.
It made him feel a little sick, his last name sounding foreign on your tongue. You never did that, because he hadnât allowed it. When it came to you, he wanted to be close, intimate, especially since distance came so naturally to all of his relationships. And one thing that separated you from the rest, you called him Tobio.
Or you used to.
âI hope Iâm not interrupting anything-â
âNo,â he said a little too quickly. âNo, youâre good.â
âIâm just gonna cut to the chase-â the sentence came to an abrupt halt when he swore he heard you take a sharp breath, as if you had to contain deep emotions that threatened to overtake your sense of calm. âManagement keep bugging me about your ticket for the charity auction.â
âRight,â he said it so quietly he wasnât entirely sure the microphone picked it up.
âI donât even know if youâre in town then,â lie â a complete and utter fabrication to try and convince him, but also yourself, that you werenât still hung up on the past â like you didnât have his schedule for the next seven months logged into your phone, knowing very well he was in fact still available that evening. âBut the ticket is still reserved in your name, and I promised my executives I would provide them with a clear answer if you were attending or not.â Again you cut yourself off, a shaky breath traveling the line, something he had learned long ago was a clear indicator that you were fighting back tears. âTold them Iâd have an answer by the end of the week.â
Of course he hadnât forgotten about the auction â you had stressed about it for months even before you broke up, being in charge of putting the whole event together. The red circle in his calendar marking the date kept coming closer and closer, and he had wondered if you would reach out to ask about it â now he had his answer.
âIâm in town,â he muttered simply, closing his eyes as he just waited for your voice to return.
âLook, I donât want to pressure you into attending or anything. If itâll make you uncomfortable, Iâm sure Iâll figure something out-â
âIt wonât make me uncomfortable.â He was a little surprised by how soft his voice came out, but it was true â he would never be uncomfortable around you. âNext Saturday, right?â
âYou remembered?â
âGot it circled.â
âFigured.â Silence swallowed the conversation, and it felt so unnatural. It was only with you he was able to engage in a conversation that flowed like a peaceful stream. He had been deprived of that privilege for so long, and his strangling feelings were slowly piling up inside him, weighing heavy on his heart.
He could picture you so clearly, down to the smallest detail. Right now you were probably sat behind your desk in your office, resting your forehead in the palm of your hand. And if he was still able to interpret your behaviour correctly, simply based on your tone, he suspected there were salty pools welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over any second.
At this hour, you were probably left alone in the company building, everyone else having gone home already. And he pictured you were longing to go home too, so you could change out of the boring corporate attire he knew you hated with a fiery passion. The second you were to set foot inside your apartment, you would walk straight for your closet to put on your favourite slacks â maybe, if you hadnât thrown them out already, you would wear his old hoodie as well. âThey feel like home,â you always used to say before melting into the piece of clothing that was too big for you.
It was most likely a naive fantasy, but Tobio liked to toy with the image nonetheless.
You stole his attention from his spiralling when you sighed, shifting the entire tension of the conversation into something more serious, deprived from emotion. âBlack tie event. Prepare for press, the company wonât be shy about any notable names. Pro player Kageyama Tobio is one of those names. Just let me know where youâre staying, and weâll send a car to take you to the location.â
The business voice had taken the phone call hostage, barely recognising the voice on the other end of the line. The only time you used it for not work related occasions was when you were mad at him...
âGreat, thank you.â
A beat of silence. âAgain, sorry to bother you. I know itâs late.â
âItâs fine. You couldnât⊠bother me.â
It felt awkward now. The ice was broken, the no-contact had failed, and now neither of you wanted to let go despite not being able to find any words to feed the conversation.
For a split second Tobio was overcome with courage, having to clear his throat before he opened his mouth, âhey, how are you-â
âIâll see you next Saturday.â His attempt was shut down instantly, rushing to hang up after blurting out your goodbyes.
Your phone hit the desk with an obnoxious rattle before your hands came flying to cover your face, aggressive sobs tumbling past your lips.
Even though you missed him, his voice, the comfort he provided, you just did not have the strength it required to indulge in casual conversation with him. It hurt too much.
Time heals all wounds â what a load of bullshit, because here you sat, three months after the most earth shattering heartbreak you had ever experienced and it still served as an aching gash in your life.
Since that horrid night, you had delved head first into work to distract yourself as best as you could. It had been a privilege to be able to fill your time so you could ignore dealing with the issue at hand â a privilege you had taken for granted as your sobs filled the vacant space of your lonely office.
In less than two weeks, you would be forced to look him in the eyes again. You had to paint your face with a smile, smother your sorrows for the sake of the company as he was expected to stay at your side for the evening.
You werenât sure youâd be able to pull this one ashore after all.
As promised, a fancy black car had pulled up exactly at the time you had texted him.
The entire car ride was spent in a one sided conversation, where the driver tried to initiate polite small talk only to be met with quiet sounds that barely confirmed Tobio was even listening.
He was too busy trying to plant his feet back on the ground, nerves traveling his body from head to toe. Every ten seconds he tilted his head to check his phone just in case you had sent him any further information about tonight that he needed to be aware of. He was left disappointed every time when there never appeared a notification with your name attached.
Sooner rather than later, flashing lights surrounded the car and he knew they had reached the destination.
This was a part of the job he had never gotten used to, and some part of him would probably always struggle with the attention that came with his career path.
Reluctantly stepping out of the car, he braced himself for the overwhelming noice of the press shouting to grab is attention.
It was only so much his PR training sufficed. He would wave awkwardly, try to smile and present himself as nicely as possible so his managers wouldnât be on his neck about the bad impression heâd given off â but no amount of training was able to calm his nerves.
Only you did that.
Whenever he had to make public appearances, you were the one to help his feet back on the ground and remind him it wasnât scary. You would lace your fingers with his, gently press your body against his side with such grace. And you would look at him, your eyes whispering quiet affirmations; youâre doing great, okay? Iâm with you every step of the way.
Deprived of your safety, he was overthinking every move he did. Was it obvious how fake the small tilt of his lips were? Who was he kidding, they probably didnât even see what was his attempt at a smile. Was the outfit okay? Had he picked out the wrong outfit, showing up underdressed to your special night? No, he had purposely chosen a safe option, one he knew you liked. Was his steps towards the entrance too slow? No wait, shit- now he was walking too fast.
He couldnât be too sure he had been able to pull off the image his managers wanted, but he had at least gotten himself through the doors of the venue.
He had no time to react before he was approached by a neatly dressed individual with a clipboard in her hands. âMr. Kageyama? Follow me.â
Croaking a quiet âokayâ, Tobio didnât know what else to do than do as she said, eventually ending up in a secluded, yet spacious hallway. There were only a few people scattered about, all seemingly rather busy.
Then his eyes landed on a familiar frame that he would recognise any time and any place, forever burned into his memory. Your bare back facing him, phone to your ear as frustration pulled your shoulders high.
Everything else seemed to disappear when he heard your voice, âno, no, itâs supposed to be four-â you spun around, and the sentence died instantly once your eyes automatically locked with his.
He fell for the temptation, trying to be as subtle as possible as he let his eyes travel you up and down. You were breathtaking, all dolled up in a floor length, satin gown in deep maroon. There was a shy slit in your skirt, and your exposed arms were decorated with the prettiest jewlery.
But what had his breath catch in his throat was the familiar pendant resting right on the centre of your chest â the dainty necklace he recognised as his gift for you for your first anniversary.
âMr. Kageyama, as requested,â the stranger said before hurrying away to attend other tasks.
âJust⊠I trust youâll be able you fix it,â you spoke softly into the phone before hanging up, never breaking eye contact.
He swallowed the lump in his throat that had formed the moment he had seen you again, âhey.â
âHi,â you said weakly, your nerves driving you to pull at your own fingers. The action captured his eyes which instantly had you hide your hands behind your back. You knew all too well what was running through his mind at the moment, having a nearly primal desire to interrupt it.
One could cut the tension with a knife, thick and suffocating, with so many lingering feelings resting in the prolonged eye contact.
You reached within yourself, closing your eyes for a second to force away your uneasiness. Once they opened, and met his again, all evidence of previous sentiments were gone and replaced with business. Your shoulders lowered slightly, arms moving in front of you again and your entire stance straightening with a newfound sense of confidence.
âGreat! You picked a good outfit,â was the nicest compliment you were able to pay him without completely succumbing to the sadness that was walking a fine line, ready to overtake you at any second. âItâs perfect for the evening.â
He tilted his head forward bashfully to hide the small smirk of amusement that formed at his lips because he knew you were being modest in your observations. It wasnât unintentional that heâd put on the all black, three piece suit you had helped him purchase when he was first signed.
It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but he remembered how you had gladly joined him when he was in such a desperate need for a formal wear he could pull out on special occasions. He would never forget how your lips had parted and eyes widened when he came out in that suit, unable to peer your eyes off of him. Heâd watched as you had actively swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding in approval, rather enthusiastically.
âGlad to hear it,â he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. âYou look great, by the way. But thatâs no surprise.â
For a split second your front wavered with a weak smile. You wouldnât allow the fragility to settle â you could not afford that tonight, of all nights.
You spun on your heel, walking down the hall in the opposite direction. Tobio didnât hesitate to follow.
âTheyâre opening the doors for the other guests very soon, and in roughly twenty minutes I have to go up on stage to welcome everyone. The auction will start shortly after that.â You stopped abruptly outside a huge door, nearly causing him to crash into you. Resting your hand on the handle, he watched how it clenched around the metal. âIâll find you after. Youâre technically still my da-⊠my plus one.â
Without sparing him another look, you simply opened the door and entered the ballroom, leaving the word âdateâ hang unfinished in the air.
How had the two of you gotten to this point?
His future used to be so clear â he saw his entire life headed in a direction he had never dared to dream of, based on the fear of its unlikelihood. You brought safety and comfort to his life, which had grown somewhat turbulent after garnering some fame within the world of athletes â no matter how things turned out, it would be okay, because he still had you.
But now he had to control how he didnât let his gaze linger for too long, because it could be crossing a boundary that previously didnât exist. He had to hold his tongue so he didnât bombard you with all the affection he still had for you, because that wasnât his job anymore.
Slowly but surely, the ballroom started to fill up with an assortment of characters, all ready to spend their money on the extravagant auction. Tobio found himself standing awkwardly in the same spot you left him, along the outskirts of the growing crowd, feeling beyond uncomfortable.
And though he knew he should mingle, all he was able to do was let his eyes follow you when you eventually made your way onto the stage. The music came to a slow stop, the crowd calmed down and everyoneâs eyes were on you.
To everyone else, you probably seemed in control of yourself, confident even â but Tobio was still able to read you like a book, rarely having seen you as nervous as right now. Your smile was bright, but very clearly forced as your eyes roamed the audience frantically.
Suddenly you looked at him, meeting his eyes that were always so soft â a feature that somehow always caught you a little by surprise. He was often so stoic, his eyebrows always just slightly tilted in a frown. But his eyes betrayed his cold exterior, conveying a tenderness you had never really seen in anyone else.
With the familiar safety of his gaze, your breathing evened out and shoulders relaxed, which he noticed. He flashed you a small smile before giving you a reassuring nod, telling you there was nothing to be scared of â because after everything, he would still catch you if you were to fall.
Exhaling deeply, you started the welcome speech, your smile now genuine. He followed every single word that fell from your lips with immense professionalism, and every once in a while when your eyes found him in order to ground yourself, his heart would skip a beat.
âOnce again, thank you all for attending and I hope you all enjoy the evening.â The crowd erupted into polite applause while you walked down from the stage gracefully.
âYou did great,â Tobio breathed as you had joined him again.
âThank god,â you sighed. âThat speech has kept me awake all week.â
âNo, it was good. Very professional.â You turned to look at him, a beautiful smile painting your lips as old habits steered your hand for his face.
When you realised what you were about to do, your face fell, hand freezing inches before making contact with his cheek. In all the stress of being up on that stage with everyoneâs eyes glued on you, you had forgotten the nerves caused by your ex boyfriend.
It had just come so naturally to you, to caress his cheek. It was a gesture you always did whenever he would come with one of his simple compliments.
âSorry,â you whispered, quickly retracting your hand.
âNo, no, itâs okay,â he stuttered sadly. Tobio had held his breath from the moment heâd noticed your hand raise from your side.
He had frozen still once he realised what was about to happen in hopes that if he didnât move, you would continue in your trance and heâd eventually feel your flesh pressed against his face. Heâd been deprived of the sensation for so long, and he was left disappointed when the feeling never arrived.
Was this how the evening was going to play out? Standing beside each other for hours in an awkward and unnatural silence, both too scared to do anything in fear of offending the other?
Tobio wanted to say something, but small talk had never been his strong suit â that was always your area of expertise, fill the void with chatter so no one was left feeling uncomfortable.
âYou planning to bid on anything?â It was as if you had been able to read his mind, saving him from his ever spiralling mind.
âNo, not really,â he said simply. âYou?â
He turned to look at you, feeling a sense of relief as you let out a small snicker, observing how the auction was about to start.
âI may be in charge of this entire thing, but that doesnât mean I have the money to get any of the things theyâve put up,â you sighed. âThat trip to the Maldives looking really good right now, though.â
For a split second, Tobio heavily considered putting all his money on that trip for you. He imagined being able to walk beside you along the crystal blue shores of the Maldives, peace and relaxation washing over you to the point where you would finally have the time to take proper breaths.
But it was but a mere dream, only a reality in the depths of his mind where he was allowed to fantasise that you were still his.
For the next three hours, you stood side by side as you witnessed all the luxuries items being auctioned off one by one. Every once in a while you would shoot a casual comment in hopes it would lighten the looming cloud that hung over you â it remained persistent.
It didnât go unnoticed, how the tension in your shoulders never completely evaporated. Even when your bosses came to shower you with praise for all the hard work youâd done, or when you were updated on the insane sum of money that would be donated, your shoulders remained permanently raised half an inch.
He could only suspect it was his presence that caused the strain. Maybe it had been a bad idea of him to attend.
In hindsight he could see how it was nothing short of selfish â because what other reason for attending would he have than only wanting to see you again? He didnât serve any more purpose than decoration. His name wasnât even among the most noticeable, so it wasnât like he brought any more traction to the event than it already had.
Maybe it would be best if he just bolted, let you be able to enjoy what could be considered your evening. You should be proud, celebrate the success of your hard work.
As the auction had slowly evolved into a party, several pairs had decided to move along to the beautiful rhythm that filled the ballroom. Tobio would shoot shy glances towards you, spotting how you were staring longingly at the dance floor.
âYou want to dance?â
âWhat?â
Shit â he hadnât meant to blurt it out. He genuinely thought the question simply floated in his mind to entertain his fantasy. Seemed like his subconscious had more power than he thought when the words slipped past his lips.
And now you were stood ogling him in shock, arms wrapped around yourself as you were visibly trying to comprehend his question.
He cleared his throat, trying to find the confidence he used to have with you once upon a time. âWould you like to dance?â He asked again, voice steadier than he would have anticipated.
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you considered his request. âOkay,â you whispered, his heart skipping a beat.
This was not the time to let his confidence waver, offering his elbow like a gentleman, holding his breath as he waited for you to hook your arm with his.
Stood in the middle of the dance floor facing each other, you tried to calm your rapid breathing as you waited for him to take the lead.
With slight hesitation you placed your right hand on his shoulder. And it seemed like he picked up on the reluctance in your movements, because his right hand grabbed a hold of yours to have it stretched out â reminding you how big they were compared to yours.
But when you felt his left hand make contact with your bare back, you couldnât help but draw a sharp breath, igniting memories you had so sorely tried to forget.
In the dead of night, when it seemed like the two of you were the only people left in the world, he would place his lips tenderly along your back, pulling soft giggles from you as his breath tickled you when it brushed against your skin.
And now his warm hand was resting within the ghost of those kisses, reminding you not only of the private and intimate moments shared together, but also just how gentle he was with you.
To say Tobio was a little rough around the edges was an understatement. He could definitely be crass, tone bordering on cruel when talking to someone, despite having no ill intentions whatsoever. His face was nearly permanently stamped with a frown, seemingly always in a bad mood to the untrained eye.
The Tobio people saw on court was also ruthless. Always giving it his all, whether if it was his calculated sets or his powerful serves â he never showed his opponents mercy.
But the second a match was over, and he was reunited with you, all edge seemed to disappear. Same strong hands that had recently performed fiercely on the court, would now cup your face with utmost care while you shied away from prying eyes.
Same tender touch was pressed lovingly against your back in this very moment â and it felt so safe. The security he always supplied in his embrace came to show so easily. Taking care of you was second nature to him, even now after everything.
âNever known you to be a dancer,â you said carefully as he started to take the lead, moving surprisingly graciously along to the music.
âIâm full of surprises,â he dared to joke with the faintest smirk.
âNever known you to be a guy of surprises either,â you quipped, having his smirk stretch a little wider.
He turned to scan the other couples, leaving you to just admire him.
He really was beautiful, and he didnât even seem to be the slightest bit aware of the fact. When going about his day, he never brought attention to himself so it was easy to forget â until it struck you like lightning from clear skies, suddenly and all at once.
âYouâve outdone yourself tonight,â he breathed, shifting his attention back to your face. It caught you off guard, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, scared he caught you in your admiration.
âYou really think so?â
âDefinitely. Iâm really impressed.â Again you had his heart skip a beat, when for the first time this evening, you flashed him a wide and genuine grin.
âThank you.â
âThen again-â he began, a little scared to continue when you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. âYouâve always been impressive.â
Finally your stress released. Your shoulders lowered and you relaxed in his arms, a softness in your features he had been waiting to reunite with.
This was Tobio â the person you had shared countless conversations about all and nothing with, who knew you inside out. There wasnât any reason for it to be uncomfortable. Why not make the best out of the situation?
âVolleyballâs going great, I hear,â you breathed, a newfound, though a little unsteady, contentment in your voice.
He nodded slowly, âyeah, you could say that,â a shameless smile of pride curling his lips upwards.
âBet you can see the end of the road to being the best, now?â
âStaring to spot it,â he mused, acting a lot more humble than you were used to.
âOnly Oikawa ahead of you now. Heard heâs still considered to be a remarkable setter-â
âOh, shut up,â he said with a roll of the eyes, your words trailing into soft giggles.
âYou know Iâm just kidding. Iâve known you to be the best all along,â you said softly, slowly melting into his embrace more and more by the second.
And by the way he was looking at you right now, with a sense of safety that would always make you feel some sort of belonging, no matter what, youâd never be entirely lost when with Tobio.
It seemed like he felt it too. So many shared moments was coming back to him when being allowed to gaze into your eyes again, especially after all this time â he was scared he might end up spiralling if he let himself sink too deep in the familiar comfort of you.
You couldnât help but flinch when he broke the eye contact, clearing his throat when he once again observed the surrounding crowd. âDo you thinkâŠâ
âDo I think what?â
âDo you think theyâll write about this?â He scoffed, nodding in the direction of the not so subtle press who had very clearly been snapping pictures of you.
You shrugged. âIâm not worried,â you breathed, âwe were never really public enough to be prolific, were we?â
The soft sound of your nervous chuckle drew his attention right back to you. He shouldnât be too surprised that something as simple as the sound of your laugh and the twinkle in your eye could threaten to have him fall back in again â he knew he was weak. He felt it every day, with every beat of his heart, how it pulled at him to return to you.
You were dangerous that way, both to him and yourself. Your eyes would always betray you when they were staring at him, your devotion clear as day. It was always simmering just below the surface no matter how far apart you were.
âBesides, I mean, I am really just some nobody working behind the scenes in some big company. Iâm no one really cares about-â
A frustrate groan shot past his teeth, spotting how his eyebrows narrowed in the angle he so often sported. âYouâve never been a nobody.â He drew a breath, a distinctly sharp one, his lips drawing in a thin line as he churned what words to say next. âYouâre more than a nobody. Youâre more than a somebody. You matter. Youâre the only one who matters.â His voice was stern, but surprisingly calm â which only made it worse.
You couldnât wrap your head around how he managed to serve such insanely deep and powerful declaration as it was nothing. It was like he had no idea what kind of weight his words carried, no regard for what impact it might have on you.
And there was a very simple explanation to that â because to him it was nothing. It was just the truth, which always came easy to him.
He noticed the inner corners of your eyebrows tighten, painting your face with sorrow as the corner of your lips drooped south.
âThere were reasons, right? Reasons we broke up?â He asked carefully. As his volume lowered, he tilted his head forward, bringing him so painfully close.
Your sad eyes flittered between his, his crystal pools of blue that always enforced the intensity of his messages, and you began to think.
When you could feel his love still pulsating off of him, and his slightly calloused thumb sending sparks throughout your body as it subconsciously moved back and forth in soft swipes along your spine, it was hard to remember any one reason for why things ended at all.
âYeah,â you sighed solemnly, nodding slowly, âyeah, Iâm sure there was.â
The deep breath he took brushed against your face, and you had to swallow the little sob that harboured deep in your throat. âDo you miss it?â
You instantly knew what he really asked â did you miss him â the real meaning wasnât hard to deduce, Tobio had always been horrible at hiding his real intentions.
âSure, some days more than others,â your voice cracked slightly. It was only for a faint second, but it flashed across his face how it wasnât necessarily the answer he wanted, a hint of anger threatening to scrunch his face. But it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. âItâs not easy, if thatâs what youâre really asking.â
âYou see right through me, huh?â It sounded as he was attempting to pull the mood up, but when there was no rise in his tone nor an optimistic twitch in his expression, he failed miserably.
âWell, still know you better than I know myself.â
Silence fell between you, still letting the safety of his arms guide you along to the symphonies that filled the ballroom. You were so close to falling in, completely surrender to the serenity you knew would come over you if you just gave in.
âYou know, if there was something I did, I am really sor-â
âCan we pretend?â You cut him off. âJust for tonight, can we just forget everything and pretend?â
His lips parted in surprise. Your antsy nerves creeped back into your body when he slowly pulled back, certain he would turn the request down.
And he knew he should. In a matter of seconds, the healing youâd both gone through up until this point would be undone. But he wasnât strong enough, especially after having been at war with that antagonising devil on his shoulder all night. With your request egging it on, he was going to let it win.
âOkay,â he whispered, straightening his posture.
With the blink of an eye, you had turned it all off. A smile adorned your lips before simply inching closer to rest your cheek against his chest, reunited with the sound of his heartbeat that you were so used to falling asleep too.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him rest his cheek on the crown of your head, his limbs squeezing you just a little tighter, as if it was somehow going to prevent you from slipping away when the evening came to a close.
You had expected it to pick up its pace, beat like a hummingbird â but it was steady.
Maybe his heart was finally beating steady, after stuttering in his chest for months, lost as it tried to find back to its purpose. And now it had been reunited with it, instantly recognising the euphoria and quickly settling into its supposed rhythm.
Bittersweet â that was how it felt. You were allowing yourself to completely bask in the comfort of Tobio. You hadnât felt such contentment and rest since the split, and it felt nice to breathe calmly for once.
But he was still your ex, and it would come to an end eventually, again going your separate ways.
Those were sorrows for tomorrow.
You allowed yourself to dance with him, your tears quietly wetting the fabric of his jacket until the evening came to an end.
Looming in the shadow of the auctions success was a sight no one had expected to see.
Sheâs the cute face behind the whole event, having worked countless hours to pull it all together for it to turn out the way it did, and itâs safe to assume she is probably thrilled with the sum they were able to rake in for the sake of a good cause.
However, youâre probably reading her name and finding it awfully familiar â but you canât seem to understand why; thereâs no reason for you to know the name of some random employee at a big shot company. The name probably rings a bell because she is better known as the ex girlfriend of star player Kageyama Tobio, seemingly home in Japan for a visit. Was the reason for his unexpected return solely to attend the big evening of a special ex-someone?
During their time together, they rarely made headlines as they were notorious for keeping their relationship private. But once the handsome Ali Roma setter became available, people were quick to show their interest.
Though we were not lucky enough to be of attendance at the charity auction, weâve gotten our hands on exclusive pictures from the night. Not only were they spotted together for the majority of the evening, these photos show they didnât seem shy when sharing a rather intimate moment on the dance floor.
One can start to speculate if the corporate sweetheart has once again swooned the sought after Kageyama.
Fret not, because we got a rare statement from the woman of the hour, and she says : âI have nothing but respect and adoration for Kageyama, but-â
Tobio shut the magazine, unable to finish the article.
tags : @hiraethwa ïŸ @shouyuus (hope you dont mind i added you love)
an : dedicated to tobio nation <3 lets go with the angst, it is obvi what i love. idk if you guys picked it up, but to me it's sooooo clear where my writers block started to disappear lol comments and reblogs is much appreciated
©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited
#â àŹ my creative corner#dividers by saradika#hq#hq oneshot#hq x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu oneshot#kageyama tobio#kageyama tobio oneshot#kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama oneshot#kageyama#haikyuu kageyama#tobio kageyama x reader#tobio kageyama#hq kageyama#hq tobio#haikyuu tobio
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Ch. 5 - Turn Against {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}
Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter
Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader
Summary : Loki attempts to sneak out of your flat before you awaken.
W/c : 8.8k words
Content / Warnings : Fluff, angst, and a touch of smut.Â
Author's Note : Apologies this chapter took me so long to finish! After 6 months of working on it, it blew up to a length of 14k words and I ended up having to divide it into two chapters just to make the editing process more manageable. So congrats, this fic is now a grand total of 20 chapters! Yay!
Also, just fyi - I basically wrote the whole thing (so, Chapters 5 and 6 together) while watching Infinity War and Endgame on repeat, if that gives you any insight as to my mental state, or the amount of angst these chapters have. So, uhâŠgood luck!! <3Â
18+ Only - Minors DNI
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âąâ
â° ââ â
â â âœ àŒ âŸ â â â
 ââ â±â
âąâ
ââ àŒ ââ â°
Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]
A pair of ethereal beings slumbered peacefully in your bed.Â
Twisted among the silken sheets, your angelic form was snuggled against the chest of Lokiâs duplicate - a leg hooked around one of his, an arm draped across his torso. Your fingers twitched in your sleep, your lungs slowly inhaled and exhaled in sync with that of his seidr. The only thing you had on was a quiet, serene expression - one that meant you were blissfully unaware of the trickery that had already befallen you, or of the cruel disappearing act that was yet to come.Â
The true Loki approached your bed with incredible precision, moving cautiously so as to not disturb the exquisite goddess or her beauty sleep. His gaze roamed lazily over your every curve, your every spasm and pulse, every inch of skin peeking out from beneath the sheets. The polish on your toes was cherry-red, the freckles on your back replicated the stars of the night sky, and the air from your lungs was sweet, intoxicating, mellifluous. Â
The entire scene was breathtaking, but that wasnât what was suffocating him.Â
As he paused by your side, you stirred a little in your sleep - muscles tensing, breath hitching. Your face twitched lightly, brushing your cheek against the duplicateâs skin, and he responded in kind by holding you closer, squeezing you tighter, soothing and comforting you under the true Lokiâs direction. And it worked; you relaxed in that false embrace, reassured by the solace of his presence enough to resume the slow, deep breathes in, and then back out.Â
This time, it was Lokiâs turn for his breath to hitch. How was this possible? Why did you find serenity with him? What did you see in him that he could never see himself?
His eyes flicked to the mimic in bed with you. It matched his appearance in every single way, from the dark curls spread across the pillow to the tips of his fingers now tracing light circles along your arm. Its scent was the same, its voice would have been identical if you had needed to hear it. He could have switched places with it in less than a second, just to have you in his own arms once more, and you never would have known the difference. Â
Because the duplicate was him: a literal, physical manifestation of his deceit, cradling you tenderly while you slept. While the real one searched your apartment for the evidence of an addiction you clearly hadnât developed yet. While he neglected his responsibilities back at the TVA, because he was too preoccupied with a future problem that he might cause to fully focus on the massive problem heâd definitely helped to cause at the end of time.Â
As usual, his attentions were divided. Lately it seemed as though any attempt to solve a problem would just create two more in its place. And forever the masochist, Loki was drifting hopelessly between the past, present, and future; stuck between a rock and a hard place, while being unable to fully focus on either.Â
He was trapped inside a personal Hel of his very own making.Â
It wasnât fair that he hadnât found you until after heâd broken the timelines. Without judgment or sound reason, you gazed upon him like the sun looked down at the clouds, parting the storms of his heart and warming the oceans of his mind, stilling the thoughts that swirled in nervous energy, and regret, and prayers that he could somehow be different for the both of you. That he didnât have to choose between you or the TVA.Â
That he could somehow be with you, without being Loki.Â
He couldnât help but wonder: if youâd been born on Asgard, would you still feel the same way about him? If you had grown up together, if you knew all of his secrets and heartbreaks and betrayals, would you have still slept this peacefully in his arms? Would you still look at him like he was somehow everything youâd ever wanted?
Perhaps in another timeline you did, and if he could manage to save the TVA after all, then maybe afterwards he should go searching for it.Â
Outside your flat, the sun was just starting to crest over the horizon. Its rays drifted in through the bay windows of your bedroom to bring on a beautiful, new day. But Loki needed to leave before you woke up. Actually saying goodbye wasnât an option - because he couldnât lie, but he couldnât tell the truth either, and he certainly couldnât predict the future.Â
In fact, no one knew what was going to happen now that the timelines were free, but he couldnât shake the ominous feeling that somehow this would only end with his self-sacrifice; dying was the only sure way Loki knew how to redeem himself, and even if you never knew about it, he would have happily done it for you.Â
But even in the off chance that their efforts with the Loom were successful and he didnât have to sacrifice himself - the next problem on the TVAâs To Do List was to deal with the variants of He Who Remains and their potential for waging multiversal war. And after that, there would inevitably be a thousand other problems for him to deal with, each one with more dire consequences than the last, and Loki would never be able to stop.Â
Heâd never be able to take a moment to breathe, to exist, to just love you.Â
Loki wasnât sure if he was in love with you now, but the appeal of letting himself feel something good was too much to ignore; in truth, he was only safe to feel it because he knew it was going to obliterate him later on, and it was why he couldnât deny himself one last touch.Â
Kneeling beside the bed, the arm of his duplicate lifted slowly from your body. And as if it had been rehearsed, the true Loki brought his fingertips to brush through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. As if he were doing it mindlessly in his sleep, instead of doing it fully conscious while his heart shattered into a million pieces.Â
And he didnât know if he was even capable of loving you. Loki had spent centuries hurting and longing for what he couldnât have, bitter and resentful to what he had too much of, and disillusioned over everything else in between. At no point in his long life had his experiences ever been what anyone might call normal, especially not to a mere and simple human, and heâd long since forgotten what it was like to just be, let alone to have something he actually wanted to hold on to.Â
When Loki was younger, he believed love to be a calculated decision that required delicate measurement of the pros and cons. Which option would benefit Asgard the most as the spouse of its disinclined and least favorite prince? Who would be the most trustworthy to safeguard an outcastâs heart?Â
Back then, the obvious choice would have been whomever could simply tolerate him while maintaining an innocuous distance. It never would have been real, just like this couldnât ever be.Â
As his fingers began another pass through your hair, he wondered what sort of tragedy had happened in your younger years to make you cling so tightly to such a broken thing like him. Had you loved, and then lost? Had you failed someone in the way he was about to fail you? Had you repeatedly cracked open your soul, only to have no one even notice?Â
Whatever it was, whatever atrocity had made you look at him like that, Loki both cherished and cursed it. He wanted to fix it, he wanted to make it worse. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it. To nurture it, to smother it, to let it rise and then push it back down. He wanted to be the cause of it, and then to be its cure.Â
His eyes filled with tears - big, wet, silent, pathetic ones. The tears of a child no longer allowed to keep the only thing that had ever brought him any kind of solace. His chest tightened, and he could feel the tears bleeding down his cheeks, painting sharp lines of misery and staining his skin red for anyone who dared to look closely enough.Â
This was so absurd, his reactions and feelings were so unbelievably foolish, because you were just a human. You didnât really know him, and he didnât really know you. Your perspective, by design, was so much more limited than his. What could you possibly ever have in common with him? Or him with you?
Whatever was waiting in your future - perhaps he was just overthinking it. Maybe the addiction had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe he was just projecting, maybe your feelings for him were nothing but casual ones, maybe youâd be able to completely forget about him as soon as he walked out the door. Youâd be better off without him anyway.Â
That thought brought him some comfort, while quietly slitting his throat.Â
He swallowed hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. What was it that he was supposed to say on Svartalfheim, about Thor falling in love with the mortal Jane Foster?Â
Itâs nothing. Itâs a heartbeat. Youâll never be ready.Â
Lokiâs biggest problem had always been never knowing when to walk away - and if he didnât do it now, then it might someday be completely out of his control. Your path might lead you down a branched timeline, one that another rogue TVA agent could destroy. The Loomâs explosion could take out everyone and everything. Loki himself could accidentally get you killed, or worse - you could finally see him for what he really was, and decide to walk away from him instead.Â
The only woman whose love youâve prized will be snatched from you.Â
Letting out a restrained breath, he dragged his hand across his face to wipe away the tears, while the otherâs gentle touch remained in your hair. This was going to be tricky; once he left your bedroom, Loki was going to have to carefully withdraw the duplicate from your bed - slowly, cruelly, and without waking you up. He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone one last time, and just as he was debating on whether to kiss you goodbye, you startled yourself awake with a sharp gasp.Â
Loki panicked, and quickly switched places with the duplicate. His kneeling form beside the bed disappeared before you could fully open your eyes. His muscles tightened, and with a gasp of his own, and he pretended to just be waking up alongside you.Â
âAre you alright, darling?â he murmured breathlessly, nudging your temple with his nose and praying that you couldnât feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest.Â
âHuh? OhâŠâ Your eyelids fluttered quickly, attempting to blink away the sleep from your eyes. When you finally recognized him next to you, only then did your breathing slow. âNo, Iâm fineâŠâ
He struggled to not let out a massive sigh of relief at that. Your grogginess had mercifully prevented notice of the two Lokis that had momentarily been in your presence, and he shuddered to think of what your reaction may have been had you seen it.Â
âBad dream?â he asked softly, his fingers resuming their bittersweet caresses against your scalp.Â
Again, you had found solace within his touch. Your muscles relaxed as you sank back into his embrace, and his followed suit, finding just as much consolation in giving it as you did in receiving it. He couldnât believe how little effort it took to bring you comfort, and in contrast, he could believe how little it took for him to offer it.Â
âDo you ever dream youâre falling so hard that your body thinks itâs actually fallingâŠ?â
Of course, his consultation was different. Unable to slip out quietly like heâd planned, he was now staring at the daunting task of actually saying goodbye - and possibly lying to your beautiful face in the process. Once again, hesitation had cost him dearly, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to make a timely decision ever again.
âOf course. All the time, reallyâŠâÂ
But truthfully, a part of him was extremely grateful for the chance to be in bed with you again. He adored the sensation of your warm skin against his, just as alluring and soft as it had been the night before. Stirring up all the same desires, making him ache for an encore performance. As his fingers drifted through your hair, the scent of gardenias stimulated the memories of his first kiss between the rows of Midgardian flora his mother had grown in her garden.Â
During the few times heâd had lovers in the past, mornings were always his favorite; the lazy kisses, bodies moving on autopilot but not without purpose or reason. It meant that the night before wasnât a mistake. It was intentional, it was deliberate, it was worth repeating. He was actually wanted, and the idea of bringing on the new, terrible day with a subdued brisance of ecstasy was -Â Â
Loki scolded himself for letting his mind wander from this devastating predicament. His fingers drifted through your hair once more, brushing and massaging in the hope of keeping you from noticing the confliction on his face. Should he just promise to come back, even though he didnât know if it was possible? Should he tell you it was goodbye forever instead, and then never return even on the off chance that he could?Â
You let out a peaceful hum as his fingers trailed down to your neck, pressing gently into the muscles and tendons to relieve any knots they found. Every part of you practically melted underneath his touch, and you snuggled into him deeper, unable to get enough. Your leg wrapped around his again, your lips brushed against the bare skin of his chest, and your gentle fingertips trailed along the lines of his abdomen.Â
âI was afraid youâd be gone by the time I woke upâŠâÂ
His lips curved into a sad smile. Every murmured word was like another chain of iron locked around his ankles. Loki was used to ruining everything, and he knew he still might, but he couldnât bring himself to pull the trigger just yet. Being of genuine use was a pleasure he was rarely afforded any more, even though it was all he really wanted.Â
When he had purpose, he had a place to belong.Â
âIâm still here, darlingâŠâ Loki had to stop himself from continuing, from promising to never leave, from cursing the TVA and all that was waiting for him back there. He was never one to subscribe to the ideology of âwhat will be, will beâ before, but that option was looking better and better with each passing moment.Â
You shifted on the bed, working your lips up his chest, kissing over his heart and up to his collarbone. âAnd I am so very grateful that you areâŠâ you hummed against his neck.Â
Unable to resist the effects of desire as it flooded his veins, Loki let out a deep groan. He tilted his head back to allow you better access to his flesh, your lips soft and warm as you tasted his skin. Why couldnât he just stay here forever? Where pleasure was given and received so freely, and without expectation?Â
Once you were properly kissing his neck, his hands acted of their own accord, latching on to your ass and pulling you up to straddle him completely. You must have enjoyed that, because you gasped softly and eagerly pressed your hips to his, rolling and dragging yourself against his quickly hardening cock.Â
Your tongue swiped at his skin while you kissed and sucked on his neck, and your fingers tangled in his hair. The exhales from his nose were heavy, his moans were urgent, shameless. His muscles tightened and stretched underneath you, and he started to forget heâd ever heard of the Time Variance Authority before. Loki gripped your ass harder, encouraging your every movement.Â
âAre you sure youâve got no other place to be?â you murmured breathlessly, grinding yourself just a little harder against him, clearly wanting this just as much as he did. Â
His cock twitched hungrily, his fingers dug their need into your skin. Loki would gladly trade the next millennia or two in happy exchange to keep such a beautifully eager woman writhing against him. He groaned out a sound reminiscent of the word ânoâ before cupping your jaw and angling your mouth to his.Â
Deeply passionate kisses consumed you both, and your arms locked around his neck. You passed heated moans back and forth, and Loki could feel how much you wanted this as you coated his cock in arousal. He began adjusting your hips to allow him entry when you murmured one last question against his lips.Â
âSo youâre not married? No wife or kids to get back home to?âÂ
Loki froze, and then burst into laughter. His entire body shook as his head tilted back with eyes closed, eyebrows raised, completely flabbergasted by the idea. Married? With children?! Who could be foolish enough to do such a thing with him?
When he managed to compose himself enough to open his eyes, the forlorn expression on your face sobered him completely. Concern had pulled your eyebrows to the heavens, and your lips had parted with childlike embarrassment to both your question, and his unexpected reaction to it. He forced himself to stop laughing, to position his brow into sincerity as he caressed your cheeks with both hands.Â
âDarling, darling, darlingâŠwhat could have possibly possessed you to ask such a thing?â he murmured cautiously, dragging his thumbs along your cheekbones. His eyes desperately searched yours, trying to see what it was that troubled you.
âWell, itâs just thatâŠYou know, I just donât - â you sighed, then paused to chew on the inside of your cheek.Â
Lokiâs heart ached as you stammered along while carefully avoiding his gaze. It would have been adorable, if it hadnât been so heartbreaking.Â
Of course, Loki had a sinking feeling about what you were really after, but he didnât know how to explain himself. The only other experience he could possibly derive guidance from had happened to his brother, but even that wasnât the same; Jane Foster had always understood Thor to be a mythological being of the cosmos from the very beginning.Â
As usual, his brother hadnât needed to lie about who he was or where he was from; Thor had never once needed to endure the humiliation of trying to explain himself. And as usual, Loki found himself envious of the blind confidence that flashed like lightning through every fiber of Thorâs being. It wasnât fair that heâd never had to prepare for situations like this.Â
Situations like this, where Loki definitely should have known better.Â
Because it wasnât like their father had ever provided instructions on how to break the news of their otherworldly existences to their mortal lovers; in fact, Odin had explicitly forbidden the idea altogether. And as he watched the gears whirling in your mind, as they tried to put the right words in the correct order, or maybe they were trying to spool up enough energy to just blurt it out - Loki wished that he had listened to his father.Â
He wished that none of this had ever happened. He wished that heâd never been kidnapped by the TVA, he wished that heâd never met Brad Wolfe. He wished that heâd never decided to get back at him by seducing his date to the movie premiere. He wished the duplicate Tony Stark had never dropped the Tesseract, and he wished that heâd never picked it up at all.
Loki wished he could wake up tomorrow in the dungeons of Asgard. He wished he could experience, first-hand, the deaths of his mother, and then his father. He wished he could personally hammer that final nail into the coffin of his brotherâs trust. He wished it could be his neck that Thanos had snapped.Â
Because even if everything worked out perfectly - even if you somehow accepted his truth, something no one else had ever managed to do, even if he managed to save the TVA and all the timelines, even if he was able to stop HWR and prevent multiversal war - in 50 years time, you would still be gone.Â
If he was lucky, heâd be able to watch your hair fade to gray. He would be able to count the smile lines as they grew along your cheeks, and heâd be there for every single frown, every single moment of joy. Every spot of luck, every inconvenience, every tragedy, every victory. But then heâd also have to watch it all turn to ash, and heâd have to continue on alone after you were gone.Â
Seeing the ones he loved come and go, watching them pass him by while he was powerless to stop it, was a burden he was simply unwilling to bear.Â
Lokiâs attention was drawn to your lips as they started moving. The sound of your voice was muffled in his ears, and your eyes darted back and forth between staring off into the distance and making brief, heartbreaking contact with his. He could tell you were stammering and struggling to make sense of your thoughts, but he was too busy picturing your casket to even really listen.Â
âI just - I just donât know anything about you, Loki!âÂ
The exclamation was made out in defiance of yourself. It was only then that your gaze became totally affixed to his - watching, waiting, hoping for some kind of answer from the stranger in your bed.Â
Loki matched your anticipatedly heartsick expression with one of his own. His brows slanted upwards while his eyes grew immense with regret and remorse; for someone whose many monikers included the God of Lies, he was truthfully finding himself completely out of his depth with you. His throat tightened, sealing off his lungs from the air in your bedroom, but he somehow managed a meager smile.Â
âIâm afraid thereâs not much to know about me, darling,â Loki replied, hoping to assuage some imaginary guilt you may have been harboring. He prayed this was all you really needed to hear, anyway. âBut I can assure you, wholeheartedly, that I do not have a spouse, nor any children, that Iâm hiding from youâŠâ
You stared at him closely while he spoke, as if you were looking for any twitch or vellication that might have betrayed his answer. Once none could be found, your eyes narrowed in careful dissection of what appeared to be the truth. Lokiâs heart fluttered with twinges of nervous energy and pure admiration for the only mortal heâd ever felt drawn to; he just hoped you were aware of how intelligent you were, and how much it both terrified, and impressed, him.Â
After another moment or two, your demeanor shifted once more, altering your calculating gaze into something much more friendly and open-minded. You smiled sweetly while bending your elbow against a pillow and propping your head against your palm. The fingertips of your other hand moved to trace light, swirling patterns against his bare chest, and Loki was sure that this time you could feel his breath hitch inside his lungs.Â
âCan you tell me what you do for a living then?â you murmured softly, clearly attempting a different tactic to pull his precious details out into the open.Â
But Loki could still see right through your methods. He was, unfortunately, quite used to being interrogated for both the things he had and had not actually done; when youâre known to the Nine Realms as the God of Mischief, everyone practically falls over themselves trying to be the one to finally catch you in the act of malfeasance, just to prove to everyone else how clever and ingenuitive they were.Â
And as much as it hurt to constantly be on the receiving end of such distrust and misfortune, it had also fortified and strengthened Lokiâs adaptability and perseverance. But the one thing he hadnât ever counted on was that someday heâd find himself in the bed of the most beautiful and extraordinary lover heâd ever known, who was asking him for the kind of truth he simply had no way to provide.Â
âItâsâŠcomplicated,â Loki answered with a patient sigh. He brought his fingertips to caress the back of your hand as it traced over his skin. The contact was so very soothing to him, and he hoped it would, at the very least, be a distraction for you.Â
But it didnât work. Instead, your gaze burned hotter into his. âIf thereâs not much to know about you, then how complicated could it really be?âÂ
Loki chuckled as he dragged his knuckles up the length of your forearm. âOh, youâd be surprisedâŠâÂ
âWell, thankfully I love those. So Iâm all ears.â You shifted closer on the bed, hooking one of your bare legs around his, flexing your foot to brush slowly along the inside of his calf. The smile on your lips was patiently, and infuriatingly, insistent.Â
Lokiâs breath hitched yet again. His blood chilled underneath the weight of someone paying such close and affectionate attention to him; he simply didnât know what to do with it. He never had.Â
Almost with a mind of their own, his eyes shifted down to his fingertips as they resumed tracing up the length of your arm. Despite everything, Loki couldnât bring himself to stop touching you, even though he knew it was just further trapping him within a time loop of lingering and longing.Â
And you didnât recoil when he touched you; that would never, ever cease to surprise, or alarm, him. Thus, a game of tug of war ensued deep within his heart - a hand of cold, gnarled fingers pulling it towards outright vitriol, and a kind, loving hand attempting to guide it towards acceptance. But both destinations were terrifying in their own ways, and neither hand was able to make any significant progress.Â
Loki cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours while you waited for his reply. His thoughts raced by at a trillion miles an hour. They collided and smashed together behind his signature furrowed brow and measured persona, fracturing and blending into an unrecognizable mess - one that was completely uncharacteristic, uncomfortable and unforgivable to the God of Mischief. Selecting a single and coherent idea was going to be next to impossible, and he absolutely loathed feeling this out of control over his own mind.Â
âWhy do you need to know so badly?â
It was the only thing he could manage to say, and he immediately regretted it. The way your face fell rivaled the destruction of many great civilizations the Nine Realms had known and lost over the past millennia. Your eyes widened like the Bifrostâs beam as it opened upon the cold, barren wasteland of Jotunheim.Â
Your breath hitched like the innocent citizens of New York when the Chitauri Army descended from the Heavens. Your formerly warm skin turned colder than Thorâs expression when the last flames of hope that Loki might still turn things around died on his features.Â
But Loki knew that to be an impossible endeavor, if your anguish was to be any sort of indication. Heâd never be able to turn things around, not really. He was very well accustomed to judgment, and of condemnation - to conviction without trial, and to criticism without consideration. They were the necessary bedfellows that came with his title.Â
And they were comfortable, familiar. They allowed him to stand defiant in the face of total and complete reckoning, and they also saved him from the problem of trying, and inevitably failing, to be better than anyone could ever hope for him to be.Â
But the look on your face right now was something else entirely. Your eyebrows arched upwards, recreating the highest precipice of the Asgardian palace - a home that wasnât ever really his, one that was built with shimmering gold and the most rubious of blood. Along with the emerald of your sheets, those were the only colors he really knew how to paint with.Â
It was honestly shocking how much your expression truly rattled him; he felt like a child again, cowering behind his motherâs skirts because he hadnât yet figured out how to talk his way out of whatever trouble heâd found himself in. Except this time, there was no Frigga to do the talking for him. There were no skirts, or titles, or utter defiance for him to hide behind - it was just you, and him, laid bare and mute underneath the silk sheets of your bed.Â
Loki was sure that heâd ruined everythingâŠagain. What he didnât know, however, was why your reaction was one of hurt. He had seen the spark dim in your eyes and he could feel you recoiling even as your mouth opened and closed, in slow-motion and without sound, as you attempted to answer his slightly cruel, albeit fair, question.Â
Why did you need to know so badly? Why was he starting to fear that this may be more than a passing dalliance to you? Why did that warm his heart with feelings of worthiness, while simultaneously cracking it under the weight of all that responsibility?Â
So maybe it would be better to let that question fester into an open wound of resentment, instead of trying to reassure, or deflect, or explain. Despite being all too aware of his own shortcomings, Loki had no idea how to broach the subject himself; that was something that was always done for him. Heâd never had to suffer the drought of no one to remind him of his repeated failings before, and thus, never really learned how to bring them up on his own. Where would he even start explaining?
Not to mention, this might make leaving easier. He could just stand up and get dressed, taking the time to actually button and buckle and fasten the Midgardian ensemble heâd conjured just for you, while he repeated the question and made you feel like a fool for wanting to know him better. Didnât you know he was just using you? That this wasnât ever going to be serious and that it was just for the game, for the chase, for the sex?Â
Loki knew how to be cruel. It was the only thing he was better at than being a massive, colossal force of chaos and destruction - and heâd learned it from the very best. Callosity was like breathing to him; he didnât feel alive unless he was driving a dagger into someone elseâs heart. And then afterwards mocking them so they couldnât see that he was bleeding even more than they were.Â
That was easy. It was familiar, it was safe.Â
It was home. It was his home.Â
Finally accepting the inevitable, Loki let out a heavy sigh. He couldnât carry on with this imposture any longer, it was too risky. You could find out what he really was, or you could simply not believe his explanation at all.Â
Loki raked a nervous hand through his dark and tangled curls as he straightened his back away from your headboard. He swallowed hard, steeling his expression into something far more neutral than how he felt, and then he forced himself to finally use his favorite dagger of betrayal once more.Â
âListen, darlingâŠI - âÂ
A sharp, piercing ring suddenly echoed across the flat, and behind it, followed a penetrative silence. Its air was tense, suffocating the rest of his sentence and making it perish on his tongue. The sound of metal striking metal in that brief and frenzied rhythm was unexpected, but the Asgardian still was able to recognize the source of the noise as an innocent and harmless doorbell. He remained unreactive, his curious gaze fixed solely on you.
Your response, however, was different; youâd practically jumped out of your skin, clearly not expecting your own doorbell to ring at such an imperative moment. Your heart beat a rapid cadence inside your chest, and there was just a tiny bit of air lodged in your throat.Â
But other than a vigorous heartbeat and your lungs heaving for more oxygen, you didnât move. You said nothing, you did nothing - you just stared at him like it was his fault the doorbell had rung.Â
Sensing your need for a push, Loki reached forward, gently brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. âDarling, were you expecting additional visitors?â
Your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, and your eyelids blinked once, twice, three times as you processed his latest question. Your brow raised and then furrowed as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, your eyes desperately trying to decipher the lines and numbers and what they meant when illuminated together.Â
Loki wasnât sure if you were still exhausted from the very late night youâd spent with him, or if his first question had rattled you that much. But the look on your face was honestly so adorable that he almost forgot that heâd been only seconds away from saying goodbye forever.Â
âDarling?â he murmured again just before the doorbell rang again, this time in a short series of three bursts to indicate the visitorâs urgency.Â
And this time, it suddenly clicked in your mind that it was your responsibility to actually answer the door. You quickly mumbled excuses as you popped upright, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed and practically gliding across the bedroom to throw something on.Â
Once again, desire roared to life in his veins, and he was unable to stop himself from admiring your naked form as you moved. As your muscles and tendons and ligaments all stretched and contracted with such supernal purpose, as your delicate hands reached for the silken, phthalo green fabric draped across the bench at the foot of your bed. Practiced fingers worked quickly to push both arms through the robeâs sleeves and situate the collar around your neck as you continued heading for the door.Â
Each movement was stunning and comforting, and Loki watched as though he were in the presence of a divinity so healing it could easily cure him of everything that had ever aggrieved, bruised or lacerated him. Watching you quite literally took his breath away; never before had the God of Mischief been so entranced, so mesmerized, so captivated by the simple act of getting dressed.Â
He didnât even mind when you pulled the panels closed around your waist, obfuscating the curves and swells of your thighs and hips and torso. Because heâd already memorized your form; it was etched so profoundly into his mind that he wasnât sure how deep it actually went.Â
And without even trying to, you answered every question heâd ever had. It made him want to ask even more questions, like why was the sky blue? How many stars could you count before you finally lost track? Would you object to ignoring the doorbell and having breakfast in bed with him instead?
Loki barely registered another triplicate of harsh doorbell rings, but he was aware of you disappearing through the door frame with an exasperated shout to the mystery caller.Â
âYes, yes! Iâm coming, Iâm comingâŠâÂ
Your bedroom was noticeably colder after you left; your bed, freezing. Loki swallowed hard, his lonely gaze falling upon the heap of his wrinkled suit, pulled off in a hurry the evening before and discarded carelessly on the floor. Somewhere in the pockets of his trousers lay the TemPad, ready to transport him back to the TVA and all its problems - both the ones heâd already caused, and the future problems still waiting to be revealed.Â
Loki pulled the sheets away and swung his legs over the edge of your bed. His head hung low, shoulders dropped and tendrils of the darkest night hanging in his eyes, blending into his perception of what youâd left behind. Down the hallway, he could hear you speaking to the visitor through the flatâs intercommunication system, blissfully unaware of the plight distressing the God youâd just spent the night with.
How did his life turn into this? All heâd wanted was a chance to breathe, to let his muscles finally relax. To possibly let his body finally heal after all the horrors heâd endured so far. But instead, he found himself locked in the sham of a fascist organization, and the only way to escape it was to dismantle it from the inside. That, in turn, somehow and inexplicably, had led him to all of this. It had brought him right here to you.Â
This room, and him inside of it, was now a barren, withering moon; a lifeless satellite, drifting aimlessly in the dark without its shining star to tether itself to. His sun was so far away now, unlocking the front door to her universe and happily greeting her unexpected visitor. He could feel the warmth of your light by the smile in your voice, in the way you laughed in excitement from whatever the visitor had to say. The sound was so alluring, beckoning him closer like the call of the most tempting siren.Â
Weary muscles groaned as Loki pushed himself up to standing. He desperately didnât want to go, but time was running out; any moment now youâd return to the bedroom, and heâd have to say goodbye face-to-face. That was a scene he knew he did not have the strength to withstand, not after everything else heâd already lost. Heâd much rather just run away again.Â
His feet shuffled forward, and Loki reluctantly retrieved his trousers from the floor. They were heavier than they should have been, what with the tremendous weight of the multiverse conveniently stored inside the compact and portable device hidden in his pocket. It was too much responsibility; how much easier this would all be if he could just forsake it and stay here instead.Â
Stalling, Loki chose to ignore the option of spellwork to get dressed. He thought about intentionally smashing the TemPad to destroy it entirely, and take away the option of leaving altogether - but instead he slipped one foot through the trouser leg.Â
Out in the kitchen, you were saying farewell to your visitor. Loki was dying to know who it was, and why they dropped by. He wondered if he could ever manage to blend into your life; could he charm your friends? Your parents? Could he actually handle having a job, and paying taxes, and pretending to go to the doctor once a year for a check-up?Â
It couldnât be worse than spending his youth trying to prove himself a worthy son to a father who would never see him as such. But could he stand manually getting dressed every morning? Could he really go that long without his seidr?
Loki slipped the other foot through its trouser leg. He thought about X-5, and how eager he was to return to this timeline, to this life. Was it a life with you he wanted, or did he just want to be loved after spending so much time in a place that had never once valued the individual experience?Â
The front door to your flat was closed, and then locked. His trousers now buttoned and zipped, Loki picked up his white shirt and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He thought about Mobius and his incredible self-restraint, how he was somehow easily managing to ignore the potentials of his own timeline.Â
What if itâs something good? Do you think I wanna have that rattling around in here?Â
It was as admirable as much as it was infuriating. If Mobius ever knew what he was considering, if Mobius ever discovered that Loki wasnât giving his complete and undivided attention to the more pressing issue of the Temporal Loom, then he would be so impressively furious. Heâd be so disappointed, heâd call Loki expedient and selfish and narcissistic.Â
But didnât Loki deserve something good for a change? Heâd once had just about anything one could hope for, even with a disdainful shadow hanging over his shoulder. How much more would he have to lose before his selfishness was to be labeled justified, understandable, warranted?Â
A long life of clinging to discarded scraps had made him selfish. But it wasnât sickness, it was necessity.Â
Of course heâd rather stay with you. Here, he was valued and appreciated. He was allowed to feel good, and dare he say it - wanted, even. Something heâd never once experienced in over a thousand years of tortured existence. Who wouldnât be clinging to a liferaft while drowning in a vast ocean of nothingness?Â
In the kitchen, the faucet was running, and the sound of cabinets opening and then closing echoed down the hallway. You were starting your day with or without him, it seemed. But that was to be expected, thanks to his earlier, thoughtless question, and it was a feeling he should have become used to by now. As Loki caught his reflection in the mirror above your bureau, he knew that wasnât the case.Â
Only a few weeks had passed since heâd escaped from the clutches of Thanos and the Black Order, and this was the first time heâd gazed upon himself since the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. He was slimmer than he remembered. But instead of that gauntness sharpening his features as one would expect, Loki saw himself fading away within the hunger of yearning. His Godly features were dulling before his very own eyes, seeming to drift away into abstraction while he got dressed in a mortal suit and tie.Â
Yet again, Loki was pretending to be something he wasnât. That was all heâd ever done, instead of determining what it was that he wanted or forging his own path forward. Heâd either do his best at what was expected of him, or heâd intentionally do the complete opposite of it, just to punish them for never asking what he wanted for himself.Â
The irony was heâd never be able to answer that question. He simply didnât know what he wanted. Even now, the TVA and all its people were both on the verge of total annihilation, and here he was wishing he could just crawl back into bed with a human. No matter which option he chose, the guilt of not picking the other might very well eat him away from the inside. Â
But what if he didnât have to choose between those two paths at all?
For the first time in his life, Loki could truly create his own destiny. There was no one pulling the strings anymore, no pre-fabricated tragedy for him to obediently succumb to. He could button up his shirt as fast or as slowly as he wanted, he could snake his feet into his socks and shoes, or forgo them entirely. He could join you in the kitchen, slip his arms around your waist, and he could promise to return soon.Â
He could mean that promise, and it was possible that he could fulfill it too.Â
Moving hastily, Loki finished getting dressed. He tucked the dress shirt into his trousers and he retrieved his tie from the floor, slipping its middle into his pocket and leaving the ends to dangle down the length of his thigh. He picked up his jacket from the floor, folded it neatly over his arm, and then he began his approach into the hallway with his chin held higher than itâd been in a very long time.
He could do this, he could make this work. He could have his Key Lime pie, and he could eat it too.Â
Successfully ignoring the horned candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf, he instead admired your displayed photographs as he moved down the hallway. Your smile was so joyous and bright in all of them, but especially in the ones where you made goofy faces with your friends. When you dressed up for holidays with your family. While standing in front of that treasured crepe myrtle in the backyard of your childhood home, the one that clearly meant so very much to you.Â
There was nothing in your past that indicated a miserable future, only the deep-seated roots of pleasant memories. Loki hoped that would be enough to keep you safe until he fixed the Loom, but he felt optimistic about his chances as he approached the kitchen; he was going to keep you from falling into the clutches of addiction, and he was going to save the Temporal Loom at the same time. There was no one around to decide that he wasnât allowed to any longer.Â
If there was only one true thing in the entirety of the multiverse, it was that he despised being told that he couldnât do something.Â
And afterwards, he would go to the Ăsir to request a spell. If necessary, heâd return to Asgard to search their libraries, and heâd go to New York and interrogate the so-called Sorcerer Supreme. Heâd tear apart the entirety of the Nine Realms if he had to - all in search of a way to allow you to live as long as he would, just so heâd never have to figure out how to say goodbye.Â
After rounding the hallwayâs corner, he found you were standing in front of the kitchen stove, carefully measuring out spoonfuls of dark brown granules and methodically pouring them into a tall, silver pot. Your eyes were bleary, your movements sluggish but not without purpose. But in that early morning light, while wearing nothing but a silk robe, Loki found you entirely and completely magnificent.Â
âWould you like some coffee before you go?âÂ
Your question was soft and polite. There was an air of distance to it that Loki simply couldnât blame you for, but it also wasn't anything he couldnât fix. He flashed his best, most impeccable smile as he laid his suit jacket over a barstool and seated himself on the other.Â
âYes, that would be lovely, my dear, thank you.âÂ
On the other side of the counter, you tried to hide the shy smile that crept across your lips, but it was impossible for him to miss. He grinned in return, thinking how lucky he might be to someday get to see that smile every morning.
Shifting his attention, Loki watched closely as you quietly assembled the rest of the contraption before placing it on the range. He may have been slightly out of touch when it came to Midgardian habits, but he did understand coffee to be of great and immeasurable importance to humans. Heâd even grown fond of it himself, after several expeditions in his youth to visit each of the Nine Realms.Â
And he could tell this intricate procedure of yours was dutifully performed every single morning, regardless of how late youâd been up the night before. That it granted you comfort, and just the smallest bit of control amidst the rampant chaos of the world. So he watched carefully, intending to memorize the steps so that someday he could be able to perform this task for you instead.Â
âWho was at the door earlier?â he asked softly, eager to avoid a return to the previous, more unpleasant conversation youâd almost had before. The one that no longer mattered. âWas it another gentleman caller hoping to have coffee with you?â Â
You laughed and shook your head while removing a match from the cardboard box. âNo. It was just the doorman, if you must knowâŠâÂ
âDoormen still drink coffee, do they not?â Loki teased, his eyes sparkling and his shoulders shrugging innocently.Â
You struck the match along the textured side of the matchbox. The tip ignited flawlessly, momentarily erupting into a wild, bulbous flame before settling into a controlled burn.Â
âI mean, if I was your doorman, Iâd certainly be up here to have coffee with you every morningâŠâ
âOh, would you now?â you murmured with a smile, shifting over to the stovetop and carefully adjusting the burnerâs dial. You brought the lit match just close enough to ignite the burner, and then blew it out. âSomething tells me you wouldnât be a very good doorman if you were only focused on opening and closing my doorâŠâÂ
This time it was Lokiâs turn to laugh. He shifted on the barstool, his long legs splayed wild and leaning closer to you with his elbows on the counter. âYes, I suppose Iâd probably be dismissed pretty quickly, wouldnât I?âÂ
âMmhmm. And then youâd have to go to doorman remedial classes to restore your honor,â you grinned playfully while turning on the faucet to run cool water over the extinguished match, just to be certain that it was out completely. âThat would be so humiliating, wouldnât it?âÂ
âYes, and we canât have that, can we?â Loki replied, tilting his head curiously. He found your behaviors to be quite intriguing; every action had a specific purpose, a unique rhythm to them. Every item had a designated place, a proper condition that it needed to exist as. You were clearly a meticulously neat person, and he thought it was terribly endearing.Â
After tossing the thoroughly drenched match into the trash bin, you then pulled a folded cloth out of an overhead cupboard, let it soak under the running water, and then shut the faucet off.Â
âSo, tell me. What is it that exemplary doormen do while theyâre on the job? Perhaps I just need a lesson or twoâŠâÂ
Your arm swung in wide circles over the countertop, collecting any spilled coffee grounds with the damp cloth and guiding them into the sink.Â
âOh, he was just bringing up the script that was dropped off while I was out last night.â You nodded towards a neat stack of correspondence beside him on the counter. At the very bottom was a large, cream-colored packet with the words âPERSONAL and CONFIDENTIALâ stamped in red ink at each corner.Â
âWell, that was very thoughtful of him.âÂ
You nodded in agreement. âApparently he was very excited when he arrived at work this morning and saw it. He just couldnât wait to bring it up here.â
âI see. And this doorman - is he a strapping young lad?â Loki grinned. It was hard to say if he just wanted to make you smile again, or if he was actually trying to suss out any potential competition for your affections. âA dashing gentleman, eager to impress a beautiful woman such as yourself?âÂ
The countertops now wiped clean, you made an amused and befuddled face as you began to rinse out the washcloth in the sink. âOh, my God, no! Heâs my fatherâs age, Iâve known him since I was a child.âÂ
Lokiâs smile shifted into warmth, his heart full with the reassurance that there were so many people out there who loved and cared about you. He wondered if you knew how lucky you were, and what his life might have looked like if he had been afforded the same luxury.Â
But as it was, everything seemed to be like it should. The vessel on the range was steadily heating up, thanks to the light blue flames licking up its sides from underneath. Your kitchen was spotless, he had a beautiful companion at his side, and for once, Loki wasnât being hunted by an enemy hellbent on either killing him or ruining his life again.Â
âI went to school with his daughter, and sheâs still my best friend. So he thinks of me as like a second daughter,â you continued, wringing out the excess water from the cloth and draping it neatly over the faucetâs neck.Â
âAnd what about this script made your second father so excited?â Loki asked, trying not to think about the fact that heâd once had two fathers himself, until heâd murdered his biological one. âIs it for a role you hope to get, or for a role you already have?â
You shifted to open another cupboard behind you. Inside, neat and organized stacks of matching dishware of the crispest white awaited your selection. You pulled out two sets of mugs and a saucer for each before turning back towards him. âOh, itâs for - âÂ
An unexpected, and loud, electronic chirp interrupted your answer.Â
You both froze in place, but for very different reasons - your eyebrows raised, and your eyes darted around the flat as though you werenât sure that you had actually heard the startling noise or not. You certainly had no idea what had caused it, and it showed in your expression.Â
Loki froze because he knew the sound had come from the TemPad hidden inside his pocket.Â
â± ââ àŒ ââ â
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â° ââ â
â â âœ àŒ âŸ â â â
 ââ â±â
âąâ
ââ àŒ ââ â°
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#loki#loki fanfiction#loki laufeyson#loki x female reader#loki smut#loki x reader smut#loki x you#loki imagine#loki fanfic#loki odinson#loki series#marvel x reader#loki fic#loki mcu#marvel#imagine#fanfic#smut#loki imagines#loki x yn#loki laufeyson x reader#loki x reader#loki x y/n#loki angst#against all odds#cee writes
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toys with jj!
warnings: smut, rough jj, spitting in mouth, kissing, choking, hair pulling, squirting.
requested by my love @jjmaybankssurfergf , hope you like it baby. đ
jj had a particularly rough day. kooks, and the hot summer sun blazing down on him all day while he worked. he came home in a sour mood, immediately unbuckling his belt and shoving you down onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll.
when he got in these moods, you were more than happy to oblige with anything he said because you just wanted to make him happy.
"y' gonna sit here and take me, i don't wanna hear no complaining. got it?" he said, with a stern look in his eyes, as he never stopped working to get your panties off.
all you could do is nod, you were resisting the urge to press your thighs together from the way he spat in your face when he yelled at you.
he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, pulling his boxers down just enough to reveal his thick, red cock, leaking with precum.
without warning, he nudges his tip at your entrance and slides himself in, causing you to yelp in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.
he wraps his ringed hand around your throat, squeezing enough to cut off some of your circulation. "shh. be a good girl and jus' take it, hm?" he says as he snaps his hips into yours.
you couldn't contain the whimpers that escaped past your throat, as he squeezes down on it, the pleasure becoming all too much, your vision hazy.
"j- please." you say with a hoarse voice, one of your hands moving to try and push his hand away.
he abruptly pulls out of you, his dick coated in your juices. he flips you over onto your stomach, pushing your face down into the pillow.
the bed dips as jj stands up from it, walking to a corner of the room. your too nervous to speak at the moment, so you just lay there, hoping he comes back. after a few moments you can hear muffled sounds of drawers opening and closing.
after about 30 seconds, he comes back with something in hand, your face still pushed down into the pillow, your eyes met with nothing but darkness.
after a few moments, you stop biting down on your lip nervously, and speak up, curiosity getting the best of you. "jay, what are u holding?" you ask in a soft, muffled voice.
"since you cant listen, im gonna stretch both of your little holes out." he says, leaving no room for an argument.
he grabs a bottle of lubricant, coating one of his fingers in the liquid, then pushing it into your ass, moving it in and out of your tight hole.
"y' see this mama?" he says, pulling you up by your hair roughly, holding the thick dildo in front of your face.
your eyes go wide, seeing the thick silicone toy in his grasp. you open your mouth to protest, but you knew better than to protest when he gets in this mood, knowing it wouldn't end well for you.
when you shut up and nod, a devilish smirk forms on his face. "good girl." he reaches around and presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling his finger out of your ass.
"see, all you had to do was listen." he says, before pushing his own veiny cock in your pussy from behind, stretching your hole deliciously.
a few moments later, you can feel the silicone toy line up with your asshole, sliding inside with ease, thanks to the lubricant he used beforehand.
he pushes the toy and his dick in both of your holes at the same time, drawing a moan from his lips. he watches the way your pussy and ass clench around both dicks, it was almost enough to make him bust in that moment.
you could feel all your control and self restraint slip away at that moment, letting him take complete control of you, submitting to him as you close your eyes and moan into the pillow.
as both dicks penetrated you, all you could think about was the sounds jj were making behind you, the way his hand was gripping your hair roughly, and it only served to make you wetter than before.
you could feel a overwhelming pressure in your abdomen that was begging to be released.
"jay...'m gonna cum." you say, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, drool falling from the corner of your mouth.
he grunts from behind you "no, you cum when i tell you to."
he lets go of your hair, and grabs you by your throat, pulling you up so your back is against his chest. "who do you belong to, hm?" he says, chasing his orgasm
you try your best to hold back, but the pressure was becoming way too much, "you, jayj. only you." you assure him
"thats good mama." he grabs your cheek roughly, and pries your lips open with his thumb, spitting into your mouth. "swallow." he demands.
you swallow his spit with a whimper, and you clench around him
"you like that shit, huh?" he says, picking up the pace with both of the dicks. "cum f' me mama."
he pushes your head down again, and rubs figure 8's on your clit, coaxing your orgasm.
you immediately let out a loud moan as the pressure band in your stomach snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. your too lost in your pleasure to realize that you soaked jj from behind.
he groans loudly and pulls the silicone toy and his own dick out of you with a popping noise. he bends down to admire the sight of your squirting pussy.
"oh fuck, ma," he groans "your finna do that shit again f' me." he says, flipping you over.
#jj maybank#outer banks#imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank smut#jj maybank imagine#obx fic#fluff#rafe cameron#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank x you#obx jj#jj obx#jj fics#sub jj#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank icons#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank rp#jj maybank series#jj outer banks#jj obx imagine#jj outerbanks#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj maybank prompt#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank one shot
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not that iâm thinking about your subby side after you âšflirtedâš with me over some damn boops.
but now iâm thinking about taming your assâŠ
i mean, ahem. toxic!theo taming you while i watch. I MEAN I MEAN toxic!theo taming reader while I watchâŠ
i MEAN! AHEM!
iâm just causally thinking about toxic!theo. thatâs all. đ€·đ»ââïžđ€·đ»ââïžđđ
KIZ PLEASEEEEE the way Iâve been giggling at this since you sent it to me I fuckin love you LMAO đđđđ
But yes of course just CASUALLY thinking of toxic!theo yes yes yes you can tame me anyday
Yes I too think of toxic!theo taming reader and it makes me FERALLLLL horny
Warning: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Dom!theo, toxic!theo, brat taming, slapping, gagging, degrading, punishment, dirty talk, PIV, rough sex, dom&sub, dom&brat
âHands out. Now.â Theo demanded just as he shoved you down to your knees. Danger lingering in his darkened eyes. You may have bratted a little more than you could handle this night and Theodore was NOT having it any longer.
âMy hands? The fuck you want my hands for?â
Questioning him in a bratty scoff, you tilted your head to the side. Theoâs eyes burned down into yours, his jaw clenched before- Smack! A hard and heavy slap welted across your cheek, your head shooting to the side. âYou donât get to question meâŠNow let me see your hands, brat.â
His domineering tone was prominent, his cock still fully erect through his heavy breaths. You rolled your eyes. Holding your hands out to Theo in annoyance. âFineâŠâ You mumbled out as Theo stepped back to grab his black leather belt from off his jeans that sprawled on the floor.
âWas that so fuckinâ hard?â his voice was dark and low as he held the belt between his manly hands. Theoâs words caused you to roll your eyes once more. But little did you know what would happen next. -Wack wack wack! The belt hit against your sensitive palms, causing you to wince out and draw your hands back. âWhat the fuck-â
Your words cut off just as Theodore pulled your arms right back to him. Enjoying seeing you in this state. The start of the taming. Inflicting just the tiniest amount of pain on you? His cock was fucking throbbing.
âWatch your fucking mouth.â His stormy-filled eyes seemed to darken even more. Speaking through his teeth. âNo.â Quipping back in a snarky tone, Theo let out a dangerous and low chuckle. Keeping the belt between his hands he stalked over to his dresser, fumbling through it before walking back.
A gag. A fucking ball gag held in one hand as the belt hung in the other. âKeep on brattingâŠSee where it gets you.â Fuck why is this so hot? He took his thumb, placing it on your bottom lip to part it open before strapping the ball gag on. âThatâll fuckinâ teach you.â
With smug pride spread across Theoâs chiseled face, he took his position back in front of you. One hand stroking down his rock-hard length while the other tickled the belt on your palms. -Wack! Another hard smack to your now swollen red hands.
Tears pricked your eyes, muffled whimpers escaping through the gag. But you couldnât back down. Not yet. âHm? What was that? The brat wants it even harder?â He only taunted you more so, coming down a few more times on your raw palm. -Wack wack wack wack! Mascara ran down your face before finally having enough.
â-IâmâŠ.SorryâŠâ Your voice muffled out from the ball gag, Theo let out a low chuckle. Watching you fully fall into that sub-space he oh so craved. As much as he liked your bratty side he certainly preferred the submissive side much more. âThatâs my girlâŠNeeded a bit of a punishment before surrendering huh?â
All you did was nod your head, Theo tossed his belt to the side before lifting you on the bed. Instantly putting you on all fours, with one hand shoving your face down into the cool silk sheets. âNow take my dick like the good girl I know you are.â He growled before slamming his massive length deep inside of you.
He kept your head rammed down in the sheets, the other giving rough smacks to your juicy ass that jiggled with each hard thrust pounded into you. Watching his cock push in and out of your clenched walls, each pump soaking him more and more.
Proving to him, as much as he fucking lived for taming your bratty ass, you also enjoyed being tamed by Theo. And very much so at that.
PLEASEEEEEE this was supposed to be way shorter yet here we are lmaooo
Hope my bbys enjoyed, as always requests and asks always open for my smut slutsđ
Divider pinned in my masterlistđ
#mommynott asksđ#theodore smut#theodore nott drabble#Theodore Nott#theodorenott#theo nott#theo nott smut#slytherin boys#theodore nott smut#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theodore nott x reader#slytherin#theodore nott x fem!reader#theonott#theo nott smutt#theo nott imagine#theodore nott imagine
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iâll tell you the truth, but never goodbye
â° warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (sorcerer suguru geto x non-sorcerer fem reader, manga and anime spoilers, angst, dead bodies, blood, regrets, mentioning of depression)
â° a little note: it was something i had written before. since iâm in an angsty mood lately, i wanted to edit and share it. i hope you like it.
September 2007
Suguru Getoâs Family House
áŻâ
áŻâ
áŻâ
áŻâ
Deciding what is right and wrong has never been easy. Some powerful people choose to kill the weak for a better life. Because, after a certain point, dealing with their incompetence is nothing but a waste of time. The weak, who canât even help themselves, ruin not only their own lives but cause the strong to lose themselves as well.
I was not weak. I never was.
Being born lucky wasnât my choice. My mother and father couldnât have known either.
Until recently, I believed that Jujutsu sorcerers lived to protect regular humans. But all of that was nothing more than a fucking lie.
Monkeys should disappear. Only then could sorcerers like me live in peace. Special people like us donât need to waste our time protecting monkeys who do nothing but create trouble.
This is my truth. I donât give a damn what others think. I was never able to laugh in this world. At least in the world Iâll create, I want to be happy.
âSuguru⊠what have you done?â
Standing in front of my fatherâs corpse, I turned toward the only voice in the world that could calm me.
I never wanted her to see this.
âDonât look at me like an idiot, Suguru! Iâm asking what the fuck youâve done.â She spoke to me, her eyes filling with tears, and she was visibly furious.
God, I love her face so much.
When I looked back at my fatherâs corpse and then at her again, I didnât know what to say. God, I hated this. Explaining what I had done was difficult while she looked at me that way.
I never wanted her to see me like this. I didnât want to pull her into my darkness as I drowned in it. I knew she had seen and understood everything. She hadnât left my side, not even for a moment, while I was depressed. But she didnât deserve this.
âWhat do you want me to explain?â
She furrowed her brows as if she couldnât believe what I was saying. âGET A GRIP, SUGURU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO⊠TO YOUR FAMILY?â
Because they are nothing but monkeys standing in the way of the world I want to create.
Except for you. You could never be like them.
âThey are not my family.â
As if her legs couldnât support her body anymore, she collapsed to the ground. With eyes red from crying, she looked at the lifeless bodies of my parents lying on the floor.
âHow⊠how can you say that? They loved you so-â
âDONâT YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!â
âWHAT? DID IT BOTHER YOU THAT THEY LOVED YOU, GETO?â
I walked over to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her up. I pushed her body against the nearest wall, looking at her with a fury Iâd never shown before. She, on the other hand, watched me with disappointment.
âOf course I know.â I replied calmly, as if all my anger had vanished. âDo you think it was easy to see the love in their eyes for me while I killed them? But they arenât like me. Love canât surpass everything.â
âIâm not like you either.â
No, youâre not, but I donât care. I could never hurt you.
âAnd I⊠I love you too.â She closed her eyes and continued speaking. âIâve known you since I was ten, Suguru. You were always the person I dreamed of.â
Youâre that person for me too.
âI knew you were different. Not because of your special powers. You were the person with the most beautiful heart I had ever known, Suguru. Thatâs what made you special.â
I wanted to die. I wanted to shatter into millions of pieces at that moment so I wouldnât have to hear these truths spoken by the girl I loved.
âDo you remember the day I confessed to you? We were on the balcony of this house. Just the two of us. I thought it was the perfect time to tell you everything inside me.â
Yes, I remember. I still remember every detail, from the blue dress you wore to the messy bun you had in your hair.
You were beautiful. You always are.
Still with her eyes closed, as if afraid to look at my face, she continued speaking, âGod, I was trembling with excitement. I was so curious about what youâd say. You were always kind and caring toward me, but I didnât know if you wanted something more.â
I did. I do. Iâve loved you since I saw you when I was ten.
âWhen I clumsily told you everything I felt, I couldnât even look at your face.â She laughed after her words. âI was so sure youâd reject me. But you didnât. Instead, you pulled me close and hugged me. Then you whispered in my ear that you loved me.â
Yes. Thatâs what I did. In that moment, I was the happiest person in the world. Every time I tell you I love you, Iâm the happiest person in the world.
Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me with a genuine smile. I couldnât stand it any longer. I wanted to destroy anything that made her sad and make her smile again. But it was me who made her cry. Damn it, I was the one who caused the person I loved most to cry. And no matter what I did, I would never be able to fix that.
âI canât believe itâs been three years since that day. Iâve loved you since I was ten, but it took me four more years to finally tell you. But I didnât care.â
Please, stop.
âI didnât care about your special powers. Or the millions of girls who wanted you. I still donât.â
Please. Enough.
âWhen you were depressed, I did everything I could. Even when you tried to push me away, I⊠I insisted on staying by your side. I knew you were struggling.â
âPlease stopâŠâ
She didnât stop. âI told you everything would pass, that youâd smile again like before, because thatâs what should happen. You would be with Satoru and Shoko. Youâd protect people like me, people who have no power. Andââ
âStopââ
âYouâd be with me.â She looked at me with tearful eyes again. âDamn it⊠weâd be happy together. Weâd go to see the northern lights we always wanted to see. Youâd buy me that ring you promised. Weâd have a family.â
âI still want thatââ
âHOW CAN YOU STILL WANT THAT?â She began shouting. âHOW CAN YOU LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SAY YOU STILL WANT THESE THINGS, SUGURU? WHEN YOUâVE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP? WHEN YOUâVE BECOME A MERCILESS KILLER?â
âI donât know. Itâs just that the part of me thatâs still good wants to live the life you described.â
âSTUPID, STUPID, STUPID,â she kept hitting my chest with her fists, cursing me with every word. I deserved every blow for each moment I hurt her. I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I should have shown up as the man she once knew and fixed everything.
But I couldnât.
With my hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, I cupped her face and did what I had longed to do.
Her lips were still so soft. Kissing her felt like a drug. Even if I knew it would eventually kill me, I still wanted her.
I was a damn addict. I was addicted to everything about her. And I never intended to break free.
I kissed her as if I knew Iâd never see her again. Her fists stopped hitting me. This time, she clutched my white shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if she wanted me even nearer.
There wasnât a single moment when I wanted to be away from her.
Breaking the kiss, I rested my forehead against hers. I donât know how long we stayed like that. Silently crying without saying a word.
She was the one who finally broke the silence. âAre you going to kill me too?â
She could have said anything to me. Called me a coward or someone who didnât understand love. No words could have hurt more than what she just asked.
I let out a small laugh. âKill you? Shit, maybe I should, but I canât. Do you know why?â
She didnât say anything, just looked at me with heartbroken eyes.
âBecause I canât imagine a life without you. Even if I never see you again, just knowing youâre alive is enough for me to keep going.â
âWerenât you the one who just said love canât surpass everything?â She spoke with a bittersweet smile.
âYes, but you⊠youâre different. When it comes to you, everything stops.â
Still smiling, she wiped away my tears with her fingers, placing kisses on my cheeks.
âI know you love me, Suguru, but thereâs no going back from here. You made your choice.â
Yes, I did. I wish some things could have been different.
âDo you know whatâs worse? I still love the new version of you and I donât think I could ever stop loving you.â
Please, donât. Because no matter what, I wonât stop either.
She held the hands that caressed her cheeks, lowering them so Iâd let go. I knew she was going to leave. Staying with me would only make things worse. Her soft lips, her warm body and her beautiful laugh were gone.
In truth, theyâd been gone for a long time.
âI hope you find happiness in the new world you create, Suguru. All I wish is for you to smile again, like before.â She placed one final kiss on my lips and started walking toward the door of the house where Iâd killed my family. When she turned back to look at me once more, she said, âMaybe weâll meet in another life, right?â
My freshly dried tears began to roll down my cheeks again. âIâll find you in every life, my love. I just hope that in the next one, Iâll be the man you deserve.â
She didnât respond to my words. She only smiled, and then walked out the door.
After she left, my eyes drifted once more to my parentsâ lifeless bodies, lying in a pool of blood.
There was no turning back from the path I had chosen. The only thing left to do was to try and find a way to smile once in the new world I wanted to create for sorcerers.
all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.
suguru art in the cover made by @reynisxxsimart
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk geto#geto suguru#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#jjk spoilers
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ê±áŽÉąáŽÊ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( áŽÊÉȘáŽáŽ!áŽáŽ )
áŽáŽÊᎠê°ÉȘᎠᎠ[1, 2, 3, 4] | ÊáŽáŽáŽ
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There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wantedâand he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.
content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 9.8k
There isnât any conversation surrounding Pepperâs visit, or the divorce, but itâs all around you regardless.
Random items disappear from the penthouseâa Pollock (your present takes its place), some throw pillows from the study, and a few Turkish ceramics you never knew existed. The phone rings far more than you care for. Tony has far more meetings than you care for. A bespeckled lawyer and his blonde associate nearly become housemates, spending hours behind the frosted glass door. Natasha makes a few appearances as well, which confuses you the most. You find the spice in her perfume too bold.
On her third exit in as many weeks, you question Tony on it. He absently traces patterns on your calves, seemingly not paying attention to you or the film on screen.Â
âShould I be worried?â you hide your sincerity behind a glass of wine, twirling the stem between your fingers. The red liquid mirrors the motion inside, spidering against the walls.
âAbout Natasha?â he asks incredulously.Â
âYes,â you draw out, âand youâall of it, really.âÂ
âNow why on Earth would you be worrying about me?âÂ
You would love to point out the obvious and address the building-sized elephant in the room that says âyouâre recently sober and just got a divorceâ but the look on his face tells you itâs unnecessary.Â
Tony finds a way to answer the unasked anyways.Â
âItâs a shit ton of paperwork, and signing things, so itâs annoying, yes but I am fine. Scouts honor.âÂ
He kisses your hand and grins with all the confidence in the world. Itâs so fucking arcane each timeâclose to magic in how it undos every worry and mirrors his gleam.Â
You wished it had more permanent effects. Something long-lasting and memorable. Easy to spread over the evening and into the early morning hours, when heâs inconsolable in your arms. You could turn it back into magic words. Banish whatever miasma racked his body and go back to peaceful nights (because you had those at some point, right?).
Being able to ask the hard questions doesnât mean shit if the answerâs always a dismissive work of fiction. You never learned what caused their separation, or sent âeverything to shitâ as Tony put it. Not because you didnât ask, no that question came the same night Pepper did. Apparently itâs the same driver of every modern American divorceâmoney. Tony summarizes the event as a fatal disagreement over corporate shares, though like always you feel youâre being told an official story. Clean cut with all messy details chopped away.Â
âYou donât have a signature stamp at this point?â you joke.
âOh no,â Tonyâs hands brace your ankles to pull you closer, â every squiggle needs to be authentic and fresh.â
âRight, how could I assume anything less.â Your eyes roll but you let your legs drape over his lap.Â
âSeriously, Iâm doing fineâthings will calm back down soon.â A gentle squeeze drives the point home.Â
A thought crosses your mind. An insecurity, really, but one you havenât let go since meeting Pepper.
âIf itâs like, I donât know,â you hesitate under Tonyâs raised eyebrow, ââI can head back to my apartment if itâs too much.â
Stark Industries was still footing the bill even though you spent less than 10 hours there in the last two months. Thereâs a fear in overstaying your welcome, or whatever it is you were doing here. Either way, you figured it was less than ideal to have your girlfriend around during a divorce.Â
âIf whatâs too much?âÂ
âI donât know, if you need your space right now orââ you answer exasperatedly.
âHoney,â he gives a hearty laugh, âif I ever start asking for space, call a doctor.â
All resistance becomes futile.
You keep your apartment (for unnecessary security), but more time lapses between visits. You issue a long overdue farewell to bartending. Even being driven, the commute to that side of town is hellish and the whole thing got more pointless with each day. You drank in the fruits of this life, but not without a tiny bit of unease. Itâs unease that you bury down under all the other feelings. The affection, the simplicity, the serenity. So you swap mixers for paintbrushes and solitude for the man you love.Â
Other subtle changes require a quicker adjustment, but youâre getting dangerously good at adapting. With Tonyâs birthday past, you recognize a pattern to Harleyâs visits. Every three months like clockwork. You begin to anticipate them well enough, and start appreciating his occasional presence during your early morning tea. By his third appearance, you brew two cups.
On the first visit he barely utters a word. You were ready for some witty insult that never came, and offered him a cup in silence. You want to ask why he arrives so early just to sit in his fatherâs kitchen, but opt for peace instead.Â
Once Pepperâs placard is gone in the parking garage and Natasha stops showing up (at all hours of the day, atleast), heâs there a second time.Â
âHow heâs doing with the,â he trails off, peering at you over an empty mug as the sun starts to break. He doesnât need to motion at the empty space for you to pick up his meaning.
The official story is dancing on your tongue. The one youâve told two times over at this point (Jarvis, Natasha). He's perfectly fine, better even. It was a piece of cake then, but now you canât seem to look Harvey in the eye and speak in half-truths.Â
âHonestly,â you sigh, âGoodânot good, I donât know.â You were dying under the irony of it all. Consoling Tony in the darkness of morning and then watching him make million dollar deals by noon. You donât know how heâs managing any of it, and if any of this qualifies as okay.Â
Green eyes blink slowly through an overgrown fringe. Barbers were clearly scarce in the last three months, wherever he spent them. Exhaustion forces a yawn before he speaks again, pinching his nose.Â
âFigured as much.â Harley stands for the sink.
He goes through the labor of washing the ebony cup, a rare quirk amongst the obscenely rich. Youâd learned they are very reliant upon their quiet servants. You wondered if he did it out of modesty or good manners. Â
âDo you know why they separated?â If he was in the mood to talk about Tony, you werenât going to pass up the chance.
âUh, something with the company, her share or whatever. Always about the money with them.â he answers casually, tossing a look over his shoulder.Â
Itâs genuine enough, but all too similar to the rehearsed lines. You half-expected him to call you nosy.Â
âNo real loss there.â Harley adds, a hint of disdain in his voice
âNot a fan I take it?â The flimsy tag finally crumbling under your ministrations.
He chortles as he slumps back into the bar stool.Â
âPepper can be, uh,â A yawn and an eye rub take precedence, âoverbearing, yeah thatâs a good word for it.â
âYeah, canât imagine that worked well for Tony.â You murmur into your tea.
âOh it most definitely did not.â Harley laughs again. âNot for a guy that does the opposite of whatever you tell him.â
His laugh is infectious (like father like son), and you smirk even though instead the mental picture makes you cringe. A lull passes between you. Outside, morning traffic begins, trickling upwards to interrupt the quiet. It cues Harley to get back to whatever it is he comes here to do, while you move on with the day.Â
As an advantage of all the free time, you get to invest more time in your estranged friendships. Being around old friends turned out to be surprisingly good. You had anticipated more awkwardness, but there was something comforting about not having to wear a mask for once around someone besides your boyfriend.Â
At this point, you slowly filled in a few close ones about your relationship with Tony. Clearly you were in this for the long haul, and keeping things under wraps was becoming futile. The general consensus was positive, thankfully. Obviously, thatâs due to a great deal of details being omitted. The act left a sour taste in your mouth. Not from the contentâhow easy it was. You hated to repeat such behaviors, but it was less complicated this way. You wouldnât have to labor through justifying your relationship, or hear concerns you didnât already have.Â
Tonyâs reception was, oddly, less positive. He didnât care much for your old âstarving artistâ clique. He thought you should take advantage of his access to New Yorkâs greatestâthe real pioneers. It took little arguing from you for him to drop that thought entirely, and he conceded to just be happy to see you happy.Â
Like good friends, they tease about your newfound love. One asks when theyâll get to meet âMr. CEOâ and you have to brush it off casually. You like your worlds better separate.Â
A sweltering autumn soon becomes frostbitten winter. This gives you less light to work with, resorting to find shuddering shoulders in complete darkness. You donât think itâs worth searching for warmer pastures or a simpler life. No, you order a cashmere robe and get used to seeing by touch.Â
Late nights in the tower turn out to be a great place to hone such skills. The halls are narrow and void of any windows, so you ghost the pads of your fingers around for customary shapes. A cushioned nook and a neglected book lull you into a nap one evening and you wake past the sunset. If you were able to sleep so late undisturbed, Tony must be preoccupied. You planned to tiptoe into the kitchen without a sound, but your ears catch words murmured behind the glass. The door is cracked slightly, just enough to let a streak of light breaks across the hardwood floor
ââfifteen, ten, maybe if weâre lucky.âÂ
The bespeckled manâs words are measured, precise as usual. You can almost picture his lips barely parting to utter syllables behind round-trim frames.Â
âJesus christâthe fuck am I paying you for? Because I am paying you, like a metric shit tonâÂ
At Tonyâs voice, you press closer.Â
âIâm not the idiot getting a divorce.â
âOkay, okay, letâs just stay focused here.â Natasha raises her voice above the two men, and you hear a chair drag across the office.
âUh-uh, donât think youâre getting off scot freeâwe wouldnât even be having this conversation if you did your job a tad better too.âÂ
âI will say it was âlot easier to spread the financials between two people.âÂ
Social norms concerning privacy start to get to you, urging your feet to pivot and take you back upstairs. Your escape goes undetected, and you seek refuge in the shower.Â
You wash the day away under warm jetstreams. Part of your mind is stuck replaying everything, wondering how he was handling it all, trying not to indulge in the urge to check the sink drawer. In a flash, you toss the thought away. Itâs easy to not overthink at this hour. Especially when coconut vanilla soap tugs you back towards exhaustion. You make it back out to the bedroom, where you find Tony removing his shoes at the end of the bed.
He smiles at the crack of light from the bathroom. Tonyâs days were getting longer while the rest of the hemisphereâs got shorter. He would say he missed when life was simple, but he canât remember such a time. Life growing up was anything but simple, then the older he got the more it sucked out every ounce of his energy. Everything after became, well, everything after.
Picturing a new future keeps him going. One in a coastal city, something global like New York but much, much warmer. He fights the urge to picture your silhouette amongst the waves. Itâs not guaranteed. He might find himself in this dreaded cycle all over again. Then his coconut scented fantasy would be tarnished.Â
No, itâs better to cherish the present with you. Like right now, watching coconut scented water droplets descended down your legs and shoulders. Even though he knows he wonât be here long. Truly, heâd wish you werenât awake, knowing heâd have to leave soon.
âTake a picture, itâll last longer.â You teased, abandoning your towel as you pulled the dresser open.
Heâs easy to rile up, and you know exactly what youâre doingâbending over slowly to pull your panties above your hips. You canât help it when he stares like itâs his first time seeing you, every time.Â
âPlease donât tempt me.âÂ
Tonyâs voice is low, barely above a whisper. Heâs unmoving on the edge of the bed, hands braced beside his thighs as his eyes follow the movements of your hands around lacy black fabric. Truly heâs perplexed. Who knew watching someone get dressed would be just as much of a turn-on. Or maybe itâs just you.
You toss one of his faded band tees on, and he thinks this might actually be better than any sun-soaked dream (itâs definitely just you).Â
You cross the bedroom, the loose cotton brushing against your skin with each step. As you approach, you snake your arms around Tony's neck and straddle his lap. His large hands ghost up the smooth skin of your thighs, leaving a trail of warmth as they make their way to your back. The moment your skin touches his, Tonyâs eyes lock onto yours, but you can tell his focus is elsewhere.
âWhat are you thinking about?â you ask softly, raking your hands through brown coils.
You assume his mind is still on the conversation downstairs, but the grin spreading on his face says otherwise. His lips move to pepper your exposed neck with kisses, still smiling.
âReally wanna know?âÂ
âSure, hit me.â
The ghosts across your veins turn into full blown grazes.Â
âYou, in a bikini, drinking margaritas somewhere with no extradition laws.âÂ
You chuckle at the notion and swat his shoulder when his teeth find your pulse point.Â
âHey, you asked,â he laughs into your skin, gripping your hips tighter, âbesides itâs your faultââsmell like Iâm damn near there already.âÂ
Tonyâs mouth turns hungrier and hungrier, moving feverishly across every exposed inch until the flesh is tender and you're panting in his lap. Itâs just encouragement, so he doesnât pause for a moment as his fingers slip behind your lace. They work at the wetness already ruining the fabric, dragging it across your length and making your shiver.Â
Okay, sure, maybe another period of minimal alone time was getting to you, maybe. Sue me, you thought. Honestly, Tony should be more grateful to have such a willing partnerâand you told him as much. Unfortunately, this elicited a need for Tony to instill a sense of gratitude in you.
In the next second, you're tossed onto your back, wrists pinned tightly above your head. His other hand pulls your panties down your legs and you try not to make a joke about the futility in getting dressed. Instead, you soak his weight against you, the roaming hand between your thighs and teeth on your neck.Â
Marking you is the obvious goal-sucking harder with each breathy whimper. He wasnât kidding earlier, either. You smelled good enough to devour and he intended on doing so. His danced along your folds, a cufflink scratching the supple skin at the top of your thigh. They are never anywhere long enough to give you any real pleasure. Just to take more breath from your lungs and feeling from your legs.Â
You squirm against vicuna dress pants, trying to gain more friction on his hand. Instead of catering to your needs, he stops all together and the noise you make is almost pathetic. Who are you kidding, itâs fully patheticâit couldnât have been over two weeks, and pleas can hardly form on your tongue for more.Â
Tony reels back with a smirk that flips your stomach. A scheme is brewing behind darkened pupils. His eyes stay on you as his hand returns to your center, slow and heavy over your clit.Â
He doesnât relent when your wrists strain and hips buck against him. No, a tighter grip and knee over your hip hold you steady enough for his fingers to work faster. You want to chastise yourself for how much you missed thisâthen two fingers slide into you and there isnât room to think of much else.
He moves quickly and silent, like a serpent, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your eyes flutter. Your soft moans fill the quiet space. Heâs too steady, not changing a muscle as your peak comes closer. The most desperate you get, writing against his palm to get even one extra inch of depth, the slower he moves.Â
âDid you have fun sneaking around?âÂ
Your eyes flutter open in the dim bedroom, Tonyâs sly grin shining above you. It cuts straight through the fog of pleasure taking you over.Â
âI donât know what youâreââ you start to bluff.Â
âYouâre not very sneaky, you know? Or a good liar. Thatâs a particular skill set that you, my dear, sorely lack.â Slow and teasing, he slides two fingers back into you.
âOkay, okay. Maybe I was eavesdropping a little.â He finally moves with purpose again, but of course not enough.
âA little? Letâs not start underrepresenting things, hm?âÂ
Before you can debate him further, he withdraws and you think you might honestly cry if this continues.
âOkay, point taken, would you please stop torturing me now?âÂ
âNow, why would I reward bad behavior?â he asked, lowering his gaze.
âIf it helps, I wasnât trying to.â
âIt doesnât.âÂ
His palms grip your hips, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your waist upwards. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, searching for balance on your forearms until theyâre pulled behind your back.Â
âYou know exactly which nerve to press, donât you?â he breathes into the base of your neck, chest flush to your back as he hands work at his zipper.
How ironic, considering he spends the next hour tuning your body like an instrument. Knowing exactly where to press, where to ease off, until you finally unlock, bare and moaning into the mattress.
Afterwards, you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart.Â
Youâre half way to sleep when Tony slinks out of your arms. At first, you donât bother stirring. Then, the soft draw of the dresser catches your ear.Â
You flip over onto your stomach to get a better view. You watch Tonyâs shadowy figure attempt to quietly dress. For a rare sight, he abandons the tailored suit for dark Levis and a t-shirt. It hardly looks like him, in the best way possible (ignoring the obvious question of where the hell he planned on going in that. Less larger-than-life, more real. This, now this was someone you can imagine running into at the grocery store. The sharp edges of his suits always added a degree of gravitas to everything.
âWhere are you off to?â
âGoing to see a man about a horse.âÂ
He leans down for a bright smile and a quick kiss before he leaves, and you let sleep suppress any thoughts about what that could possibly mean.
You awake to a sun that has long outran the horizon. The sheer curtains were already pulled back, with the smell telling you Jarvis made a feast for breakfast. Tonyâs side is empty. Which is no surprise there, but you donât expect him at the kitchen table.Â
He grins behind a newspaper as you approach. Jarvis is busy with the espresso machine, muttering curses under his breath.Â
âTell me, what are your thoughts on cyclamenâoo, or actually, narcissus, yeah, thatâs better.â Tony asks like you've been having some sort of conversation before five seconds ago.
Jarvis clicks the tamper in with a satisfied click as you stare back confused. Youâre two blinks away from falling back asleep and desperately craving something stronger than green tea.Â
âWhat are you-Is-Are those restaurants?âÂ
âOh, morning maâam. Shall I prepare you a tea, perhaps breakfast?â Jarvis turns at the sound of your voice, wiping damp grounds from his hands.
âGood morning, but no, just some coffee, please.â You try to sound natural. Itâs weird giving someone else orders.Â
âNope, flowers. We could do something simple like a peony but I donât think that matches the whole vibe with the satin garlands.â Tony continues.Â
âTony, hon, I have no idea what youâre on about right now.â you groggily slouch in the chair beside him.Â
âWe, my dear,â the newspaper is folded and plopped onto the table for dramatic effect, âare having a Christmas party. The proverbial âweâ in this situation being the company, of course.âÂ
âA Christmas party?â you muse with a laugh.
âFor tax purposes, a gala. For my purposes, and therefore to make it fun, it is indeed a party, yes.âÂ
Espresso warms your veins as you listen to Tony ramble through plans for catering, guests, decanters and a whole bunch of other shit you can hardly keep up with. Good thing that responsibility falls to Jarvis, who jots away on a worn notepad. Once your eyes fully open, the thought starts to excite you. Your yearly festivities normally boiled down to a bottle of chardonnay and some loosely Christmas film like Die Hard. âPlus, if I auction some art, it works out even more.â He punctuates his brilliant plan with a bite of a muffin.Â
âThatâs not like a massive trigger for you?âÂ
High-volume social events dropped off the radar recently, for good reason, you assumed (not that you minded a break from fake smiles and cold handshakes) . Instead, Tony dragged you along to more intimate dinners with whatever broker or councilwoman he needed to charm. Your role as plus-one never went anywhere, but doing so at Tonyâs your home would give you more confidence.Â
âWhat are you, my sponsor?â he teases but you're less amused at the thought.Â
âYou donât even have a sponsor.â You know so, because Tony believes Narcotics Anonymous is a, quote, âsad-ass glorified tea partyâ.Â
âI have Jarvis.â Heâs completely serious, and Jarvis hides his laughter behind a stack of plates. Â
You donât want to point out the obvious cognitive dissonance. That a man who spends his nights in petrified somnolence might crack under the pressure of dozens of inebriated colleagues. Not now, in a moment of peace. Not in front of Jarvis. Youâre not sure how much sound slips out into the hall.
Tony watches the worry creep over your face from the edge of his newspaper. With a sigh, he abandons it again.
âLook, all you have to do is look prettyâwhich is no sweat for you, maybe drink a few apple cider cocktails, and relax. Iâve got everything else perfectly handled.â
He gives you a look, both reassuring and decisive. Itâs a simple message meant to be taken without debate, âtrust meâ.Â
You get one more peaceful morning drinking tea in the dark with Harley before the holiday season.
The event overtakes your life from Thanksgiving onward. You really donât know how this sudden festive fervor spawns, but it slowly creeps into everything. From the elevator music, to miniature elves by the door, to candy canes everywhere, and more Christmas ties than days in December (you canât be sure heâs not switching them multiple times a day).Â
You werenât a total Grinch, not by a long shot. Tony just so happened to be creeping into that weird overly festive zone reserved for suburban moms and kindergarten teachers.Â
âTony, whatâs all of this?â
Vivaldi plays faintly on the record player. Thereâs a delicately placed mistletoe just off of the elevator, accompanied with a haphazard trail of roses leading out onto the balcony. You navigate through a candlelight kitchen juggling a heavy box of resin.Â
âTony?â you call out again once the box makes contact with the counter,
âOut here!âÂ
You follow the voice and rose trail to the balcony. Unsurprisingly, heâs donning a god awful Christmas sweater, grinning and pointing to the wool like itâs runway fashion. A small table holds two covered silver platters, and a tall bottle of champagne rests in a bucket of ice. Itâs the kind of overtly romantic display youâd gotten since night one, but it never fails to sink your breath straight in your heart. Something about the way heâs standing there, beaming like a nervous, lovestruck fool, tells you this isnât just a normal gesture of affection.
Still, your lips part to thank him, but he stops you instantly.Â
âJust waitââ he pleads, âI got like thirty minutes of practice into saying this and I canât fuck it up.âÂ
His voice is rushed enough that you believe. Clearly the words were threatening to jump out of him. It sets you a bit on edge, trying to anticipate what this was about. You indulge him anyway and nod.Â
Tony crosses the balcony to take your hands in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles.Â
âOkay, I know things havenât been copacetic around here. And I know Iâve asked for a lotâmore than I ever thought I wouldâand you know sometimes it feels like Iâll never be able to return what youâve given to me, but I swear Iâm going to make this worth it.âÂ
He squeezes your palm, tired brown eyes searching yours for something, any sign that his words meant a single thing. Itâs a fast-winded speech that makes you wanna laugh at the irony. Tony, the man whoâd move the stars if they had a price tag, somehow feeling the need to repay you. Yet his voice is raw like a frayed nerve. Exposed to the cold winds whipping against the tower glass.Â
âTony, youâve made it more than worth it, everyday.â You smile, though itâs worth wondering whatâs driving him to say all this. The words ring true regardless.
âNot nearly enough,â he says softly, âbut Iâm going toâIâm going to give you the world.â
In that moment, you see it: the weight of everything heâs been carrying. Your ribs seem to tighten inside your chest. That unspoken fear youâve both been trying to avoidâit was far easier twenty seconds ago when you thought it was yours alone. You realize now that the fearless man you saw in fact was scared of something (losing you, primarily). Yeah, you comforted him through nightmares, but even then he managed to carry an aura of control. Â
This wasn't about holding onto the life youâve built together, the one thatâs felt so fragile lately. And for the first time, you see how much that matters to him, too.
He starts to say something else, dropping your hands. His fingers fiddle behind his back, seemingly nestled in his back pocket. He stares like he intended to say something else, lips parting and closing right back. In the next second, he seems to shift gears, pulling you into a hug.Â
You welcome the warm embrace, as the chill has started to gnaw at your bones. He plants a kiss to the top of your head, and you want to stay in that feeling for the rest of your life.
Sadly, he does eventually pull away to admit dinner on the balcony would be quite miserable, and the two of you move inside.Â
You could spend the rest of the evening overthinking about what all that meant, but you donât bother. Why go through that mental labor, when instead you could drink $500 champagne, carefree while your handsome boyfriend flirts with you like itâs the first date.Â
You donât think about it then, or later in the night when your legs are pressed to your chest and you canât recall a single thing he said. You focus on what heâs saying thenâfilthy words about who you belong to, and exactly where you belongâa whimpering mess underneath him.
Even when it turns possessive (more so than usual), when your throat is littered with marks and his hand stands to leave another on his hip, you donât think of it. But itâs the only thing on Tonyâs mind. When another orgasm rips through you, all he can think about is how much he needs you. He whispers âyouâre mineâ over and over and over as you fall apart just so your broken moans can still echoâso he can hear just how true it is. How could you, with such a dutiful guide at the helm?
Afterwards, when youâre drained of every ounce of life, it still doesn't bother you. You donât wonder if tonight might be another night he slips into plain clothes and disappears until sunrise. You canât muster a single thought as his arm slinks around your waist to pull you closer.Â
You simply close your eyes, and let sleep take you.Â
Eventually the days tick by to the gala, and youâre somewhere between impressed and overstimulated with all the ensuing holiday glamor.Â
Though, you canât say he doesnât go all out.Â
The first floor of Stark Industries is transformed from a cold minimalist space to Ebenezer Scrooge's worst nightmare. A makeshift stage sits at one end, complete with enough tinsel to suffocate a horse and twinkling garlands. Piles of fake snow anoint the corners, and a particularly large one sits beneath a 12-foot tall Christmas tree in the middle of the lobby. The open bar even serves drinks in frosted holiday glasses. He even has the guards wearing reindeer ears.Â
By ten p.m. the vast floor seems smaller than a shoebox, packed with guests in evening gowns and tailored tuxedos. Initially, youâd planned on wearing a new piece for the galaâsomething to make the overwhelming festivity Tony demanded. Once it came time to get dressed, your eyes caught the sanguine dress. You hadnât gotten the chance to wear it since your first date. It had felt too exquisite for any other occasion, but for some reason you were drawn to wear it tonight.Â
You wish you could say Tony had a good reactionâor a reaction at all. From sunrise until the doors opened, heâs caught up in planning and preparations. Matter of fact, you were two hours into the gala and had only seen glimpses of him shaking hands in the crowd. It takes away from the expected familiarity. You imagined this night to be simple, easy for you to blend it with Tony on your arm, in his home your home. Instead, you wander like a lost gazelle, feeling every pair of eyes on you. You want to blame the dress. Revealing and bright red.
In the blurry swarm of faces, bright auburn stands out. Natasha wouldnât be your first pick, but sheâs the only familiar face and you need a respite.
You squeeze in next to her at one of the corner tables. The spice of her perfume permeates your nose but you can look past it for the moment. She pays you no mind at first, legs crossed and head turned to the crowd. You donât mind one bit. Itâs quieter towards the back, and you have no issue with it staying that way.Â
Natasha sighs deeply, almost in boredom, maybe annoyance, but not with you.Â
âI donât know how you stand him.â
âHow do you figure?â you respond absently, picking apart at a stray piece of tinsel.
âOne of the richest men on Earth-I know heâs got the ego to match it.â
âYouâd know better than I would, wouldnât you?â you answer. Youâd gotten the sense Natasha and Tony back way further than him and Pepper a while ago,
âTouche, but Iâm not dating him.â she shifts to take another sip from her glass, âthough, Iâm not really sure why you are.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean, do you really love him, or are you just after a family fortune?â Emerald eyes points like knives, her tone blending from casualty to scorn.
âW-what,â you stammer, âOf course I love himâTony pursued me.â
âPlease, heâd pursue anything with a pulse,â Natasha chuckles, âand relax, Iâm just finally getting around to doing my due diligence.âÂ
âYour âdue diligenceâ is being a cunt?â
âOoh! I see youâre a feisty oneâyou did sit here after all, you know.â she muses.
âJust needed a break from the crowd,â you mummer, rising.Â
âStay thenârelax, like I said.â she gestures towards your now-empty seat. When you sigh and retake your place, she smiles. âI like you, you know.â
âWeâve barely spoken.â you declare, a dry chuckle spewing alongside.Â
âThat doesnât mean I donât know a smart person when I see one.âÂ
âSmart?â
âSmart decisions, going out with Tony, not screwing that up, though Iâve been told youâve come close a few times.â
âWhoââ
âThis isnât an interrogation, like I said, I like youâI donât really care what happens between you two.â
âThen what is this?â you flag the nerdy tuxedoed waiter for a glass of water.Â
âYou said it yourself, weâve barely spoken. My job is to keep Tonyâs business running smoothly, and thatâs become a lot harder since he wonât make a single decision without considering the ây/nâ of it all.âÂ
You scoff, unimpressed. âWe donât talk about his business.â
âOh, I know,â Natasha remarks, âA bartender has no idea how to run a billion dollar corporation, and even less of an idea how to advise one.âÂ
âThis is the part where you tell me I have no business being with him, right?â The waiter drops off a tall pitcher of water for you both. Once your glass is full, he passes along a message that Tonyâs speech starts soon.Â
âDear god no,â Natasha laughs, âI imagine youâve heard that enoughâand heâs much more pleasant since you came around. Besides, youâre living the dream.âÂ
âIs that so?â You have to give a laugh of your own (considering you had a bit of jealousy buried for her).Â
âOh yes, filthy rich, live in a penthouse, never work another day in your life, loving husbandâmaybe not my dream, but still a dream.âÂ
You donât know if sheâs trying to be funny but your next laugh is genuine, and she joins in.
âWhat is your dream, then?â you question.
Natashaâs grin stiffens, surprised. Contemplation passes for a second and you worry that youâve underdone the last three minutes of camaraderie.Â
âBallet teacherâbut that stays at this table.â She gives you a matching pointed look.
âMy lips are sealed.â You do try not to giggle, but itâs odd to imagine her frigidity in a warm lit studio surrounded by tutus.Â
âDid you mean it, what you said about Tony? That things are...okay?â Natasha asks, referring to Tonyâs sobriety. Itâs weird how everyone dances around it, especially someone so usually straightforward as her.Â
It was weeks ago when you parroted that claim. And you only call it that because the question annoys the fuck out of you. Itâs entirely subjective, and you give in to the optimistic look in their eye and tell them what they want to hear. Heâs fine, better even.
Maybe itâs because sheâs being nice, or because you already gave up this facade with Harley, but you canât be bothered to pretend you know whatâs going on with him all the time. Besides, clearly you werenât doing a good enough job for her to ask you about it again
âI want to say yes, but I donât know, I guess?â you admit, staring into the crowd.Â
Natashaâs mouth parts to speak again, only to have the microphoneâs feedback interrupt her. The hostâsome Nobel prize winning chemist Tony invited to pull donorsâclears his throat before starting his introduction, and the noise draws to a lull. Natasha excuses herself, presumably to find Tony before his speech. You decide to stay at the back of the lobby, with a good enough view of the stage.Â
Supposedly this entire sordidly festive affair had a true business purpose, some big announcement Tony was making on the âfuture of the companyâ. He didnât explain much more than that, and youâre certain the technical logistics were beyond you anyway.Â
After a long, boring welcome, the mic is passed off to Tony. Itâs the first time today youâve been able to see him fullyâdraped in a jet black tuxedo and bright red bowtie.Â
It whines again in his grip, and Tony pauses once the cheers die down, glancing at the expectant faces below. Thick cards press into his palm, each written meticulously inked by Natasha last night He clears his throat, glancing out past the lights into the crowd. He hopes they canât see how heavy the stillness starts to weigh on him like before. The sudden quiet, all that attention. Including yours, somewhere out there. His heart stalls at how must look to you up here. Larger than life probably, or maybe you werenât looking at all (he hopes you arenât). A hundred odd pairs of eyeballs, and he hides from yours.Â
Tony knew what he had to do, and was quite confident in his choice. But he canât risk looking you in the eye while he does it. Ironically, his decision had very little to do with you, and everything to do with Pepper. The edge of his mouth still twitches.Â
âTonightâŠâ he starts, turning the twitch into a warm smile, ââŠIâve asked you all to be here in celebration, to celebrate Stark Industries, and talk about the future of the company,â He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to loosen some unseen knot.
Thereâs a small, brief ripple of confusion among the front of the room, murmurs. Something shifts in his expressionâjust a flashâbefore his eyes catch something and harden. A gesture is made to the guard at the end of the stage. His hand tightens around the mic.
âTo keep things transparent,â he says, stuffing the cards into his pocket, âthe real reason I threw this party, asked you all to be here, is because I want everyone to see how much this means to be.â
Your ears perk up. Natasha swears under her breath, glancing at you before sharply leaving the table, tapping away at her phone. Tony canât hide from your gaze anymore, and he finds your confused face in the back corner. Before you think about a path to escape, the crowd follows his attention, taking their eyes from the billionaire to the nobody fiddling with tinsel alone.
âI want to celebrate the love I have for this woman, and take this opportunity to share it with everyone.âÂ
What the hell is he doing?, you think. He can't be doing this here, like this.Â
âThe truth is,â he pauses, feeling his phone buzz off the hook (most certainly Natasha telling him to stop), âIâm getting married, and Stark Industries will be welcoming a new partner in its operations.â
The room erupts in a chorus of oos and awes, all to the tune of your racing heart. It takes you a second to process. He means getting married to you. You never even talked about marriage, the future, anything like that. Yeah, maybe in passing the idea came up, but at no point did you accept a marriage proposal.Â
Everything feels nauseatingly blurry after. Random individuals come over with their congratulations, while half the crowd stares and the other half still bothers to listen to the rest of Tonyâs speech. Itâs a bunch of nonsense about restructuring and profits, and youâre too confused, pissed, and too fed up with fake smiles to bother standing around to listen.Â
You suffer through two more superficial conversations about the marriage you were only made privy a few minutes ago. Finally, you escape to the restroom. You find an empty stall to hide in, trying to process what was going through Tonyâs mind.
He couldnât be serious, could he? This wasnât realâit was some ploy or tactic. He didnât genuinely intend to marry you. You didnât like to think of the long-term for the same reasons you didnât think about the short-term. This was unpredictable, you learned that. You learned to be okay with that. You could soak in the pleasures indefinitely without ever worrying about how it might all end. This, this brought it into a sharp focus you werenât ready for.Â
Youâre not even certain heâs fully divorced yet.Â
Once your palms finally dry, and the threat of a panic attack fades, you step out of the restroom. You donât even know what to think, and the sterile walls werenât helping. Glancing back toward the gala, you spot Tony scanning the roomâuntil his eyes find yours. You don't hold his gaze long; instead, you turn sharply toward the elevator. You hear your name faintly called from somewhere behind, but you keep moving down the hall, ignoring it.
He breaks into an awkward jog to catch you. You keep your eyes forward.
â[Y/N], look I know this wasnât what you were expecting, and I can explain I just needââ he starts,
âYouâve lost your fucking mind, Stark,â Natasha heels stomp angrily down the hall, stepping in front you to point her finger in Tonyâs face, âwhat the hell are you doing?â
âAlright, alright, not you right nowâcut it out!â He smacks her hand away flippantly, âIâm not entirely sure you and Matt havenât been drinking the kool-aid either.âÂ
Tony huffs and straightens his bowtie and you step back from Natashaâs heat. Behind the three of you, someone gets their hands on a karaoke machine and a terrible rendition of Santa Baby follows.
âThe whole point of this bullshit was to go public and get out of this shit so explain to me how this gets us anywhere closer to that?â She grits.
Tony throws his hands in the air, âMaybe it doesnât, but your dumbass plan wasnât any better.â
âYou think marrying her is going to help you? You know I was joking when I said that, right?âÂ
Suddenly, a spotlight seems to beam over you. Neither party stops their death glare to fully acknowledge you. That wasnât a proposalâyou were just some pawn in their game.
You donât even know what the hell theyâre playing for.
âThis is a great time to remind you who signs your checks.âÂ
Only then do her eyes bother to glance at you.Â
âThis isnât gonna end well, and you know it.â She concedes, still stern. After that, she stomps back off into the crowd.Â
Tony turns towards you, but you're already back at the elevator, watching the buttons finally reach L.
â[Y/N], pleaseââÂ
The doors ding open and you donât stop to hear anymore. Despite your feverous attempt to close the doors, Tony makes his way inside. The door just barely misses his coattail, to your annoyance.  Â
Even worse, and completely on par for the evening, the jingle bells elevator music plays the moment the doors shut.Â
A hard, awkward beat passes. Youâre pinching the bridge of your nose, sparsely emptied of any more energy for this night (mentally or otherwise).Â
âYou look fucking stellar, by the way, love that dressââ
âTony.â
âRight, youâre right, sorry.â
Neither of you spare another word from the elevator to the bedroom. Tony follows behind, closing the door softly as you toss your earring onto the dresser. Youâre waiting for him to speak again. Explain, deflectâhopefully just explain, but he doesnât. He sits at the end of the bed, eyes trained to you in the mirror.Â
âWhy didnât you ask me? Alone? Before today?â you sigh, â
âI wanted to, I was going to, the other night on the balcony I justââ he answers quickly, but trails off in a way that has you turning to face him instantly.
You donât doubt that for a second. Truthfully, the level of effort and random heartfeltness of the night gave you some clue. But, when it never came you just chalked it up to Tony being Tony. Painfully romantic in most conditions.Â
âYou just what, didnât want to?â Thereâs anger, though you know it's hypocritical.Â
âNo I just,â he exhales, dragging his fingers through slicked back hair, âI knew youâd say yes.â
âYou knew Iâd say yes? What the hell does that mean?â Your necklace joins the rest of your jewelry with a loud clink.Â
âThis is coming out all wrongââ
âYou think?â The six inch heels are the next thing to go, throwing haphazardly in the closet. Tony rises to cut you off in front of the door, eyes pleading for understanding youâre not sure you have.Â
âI saw the look in your eye, Iâd done so much to make sure youâd say yes in that moment because I needed you toânot because I wanted it and that wasnât the way it was supposed to go.â
âYou donât know that Iâd say yes.â
âYou would,â he says with that practiced charm, all sunny but hollow. A trademark Stark moveâconfidence teetering on arrogance. When you hesitate, heâs ready with another word, a gaze intense enough to hypnotize. âYou know you would.â
You laugh, looking away as if itâs absurd. âAre you really so sure?â
His hand slips into yours, gentle but firm, thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that makes it seem like heâs talking to you, only you, and not the thousand voices in his head screaming at him to get this done.Â
âI know youâre scared, butâ he says, leaning into your warmth. âDonât leave me hanging here, please.â
âYou sound so desperate, itâs kind of sad.âÂ
But thereâs a softness to your voice now, a hint that he might be getting through. For a moment he was worried he wouldnât be able to get away with this again, that youâd learned all his tricks since the boutique.Â
Itâs enough of a crack in your resolve for him to keep pushing. He slips closer, voice low.Â
âLook, I know I keep asking a lot of you, but, Thereâs a pause, just long enough to let the ache in his voice sit, before he adds, âthis could fix everything, everything can be okay.â
Thereâs a sliver of doubt in your eyes, and thatâs what he clings to.Â
âAnd when was the last time everything was okay, Tony?â You watch him in the bureauâs mirror.Â
 âIt could be. All I need for you to do is say yes, so I can fix this,â He squeezes your hand, the hint of desperation all but veiled now.Â
And when you finally exhale, when that flicker of sympathy slips in, he knows heâs won.
Itâs good enough. Better than he hoped, honestly. The relief slides into him like a tonic, loosening the tight lines in his jaw. He keeps his hand on yours, knowing the warmth of it will serve to distract from the creeping dread, from the hollow pit thatâs been widening ever since the stakes got so high he couldn't see the top of them.
For Tony, this is all still just a means to an end. One step closer to true liberty and the life he was supposed to have. If he had to lie and disappointâcheat and charm, then heâd do it. It would be worth it. In the end, the sum of his achievements would outweigh his sins.
He reminded himself of that a month ago, the night before he decided to have the gala. When the bedroom door closes, a sigh of relief escapes. He was lucky that you didnât catch the conversation with Matt and Natasha in full. What he had in the works was sensitive, and he couldnât have that ruined by anyone knowing the details in advance. He couldnât lose you again, not when he needed you most.Â
There is a shred of guilt as the elevator whirs down to the garage. Youâre probably thinking the worst, understandably, but there wasnât anything he could do about it. Only to pray his love was enough to placate you for now.Â
Especially when he doesnât even want to fucking do this. Each day seems to come at the loss of his autonomy, another suit on his payroll telling him whatâs best for his life. Itâs more deplorable when the people closest to him come up with the shittiest ideas to fix this. He can truly thank Pepper for his recent migraines (and a bunch of old ones). Filing for divorce was quite a move to try to get what she wanted, and throw him to the mercy of the Securities and Exchange Commission at the same time. If you listen to Matt, Tonyâs mere minutes away from a cold cell. If you listen to Nat, Tonyâs plummeting stock will be the sealer of his fate. And as of right now, two of the smartest people he knows canât come up with anything that doesnât come at the cost of you or his company. And he canât live with either.Â
Since, both their solutions arguably suck, he tells a lie or lack thereof to find a third opinion. Or a hail mary. However itâs called, itâs a long shot that he canât be certain won't jeopardize him even more.Â
The drive to Hudson Valley is peaceful, to the point he forgets his world is on fire. Itâs late, or early, depending on who you ask. Few cars grace the road and he finds solace in the solitude. The radio is ignored for the repetitive rumble of the tires, until paved tar turns into rough gravel.Â
When Pepper sent over the address, he wasnât too surprised. She always rambled about moving out of the city, dreaming of cabins in the woods and sprawling hills. Tony could never wrap his head around living anywhere else. In retrospect, that was another early omen. They never even shared the same dream.Â
He canât say it doesnât look impressive. A dark a-frame that strikes beautifully against the earthen spruce. Maybe that is why she had him drive all the way out here and not somewhere in the city. Part of masterplan to show him what she presumes heâs missing out on.Â
The porch lights flicker on once he parks, and he makes his way up the stone path to find Pepper sitting just outside the door. Sheâs preoccupied with a thick novel, acknowledging Tony with the raise of a finger.Â
Itâs strange, being alone with her for the first time in years. Sheâs not dressed in Valentino but tattered college sweats he had forgotten about. Seeing her at the penthouse all those months ago was troubling, but this was different. Here, itâs too quiet. Even though heâs a few paces away from the table, he can hear the tension of her nails against the pagesâthe swirl of wind through her hair. Sure, she canât control the environment but he knows this is a calculated move too. To make him wait, make him uncomfortable. Every other sense sharpens in the absence of constant noise. Norway spruce and duplicity.Â
Heâs losing his nerve and he needs this over.Â
âWhy the hellâd you make me drive this far out anyway?â He tries to keep a level voice, knowing she wouldnât hesitate to use his irritation against him.Â
âItâs the one place Iâm certain your little spy hasnât found yet.â she murmurs.
Okay, fine, so heâd used his son to spy on his ex-wife. Big deal, he couldnât be certain she wasnât doing the same. Plus, Harley had offered to keep an eye on her. It was a matter of security, not personal (mostly).Â
âCan we get on with this?â
âI suppose,â she sighs, tossing the book onto the table. The thud reverberates, stark against the stillness of the valley. âBut Iâm not sure what it is you want from meâyou did call me after all.â
âI did.â And heâs regretting it every second.
âSo, what can I do for you?â
âYou can start by accepting the deal Murdock sent, and let this be over.âÂ
Pepper chuckled, crossing her legs. âWhat are you playing at, Tony?â
âIâm not playing at anythingâthis needs to be over, you need to move on.â
âOh please, donât flatter yourself,â she scoffs, âthis is all very rich considering youâve held me in litigation for months, you rejected my offers over and over, so why the sudden change of heart?â
A cold chill and burning annoyance pull him closer to the table.Â
âYes, because I should just give you forty-five percent of my companyâI can get it gift-wrapped too if that makes it all the better.â Â
âThatâs right, your ego wonât let you admit Iâm the only reason you have a company to speak of.â
âCanât you find an ounce of compassion in that gaping pit you call a soul, for me?â
âSuch harsh words from someone who needs something from me.â Pepper smirks and stands once the heat recedes from Tonyâs face.Â
âTake the twenty percent, finalize the papers, and end this, or else there wonât be anything for either of us.â
She circles the table to stop in his view. Tony wishes he had a time machine.
âLet me guess, someoneâs under a little heat.â she muses, voice high and dripping in sugary venom.
âLittle is an understatement.â He steps back, hands tight in her pockets.
âAnd why would I give up my shares to help you?â
âThis entire thing started with you, and the second it wasnât convenient you ran. The least you could fucking do is help me out of it.â Tony snapped.Â
âRight, and if I donât?âÂ
She still laughs, because itâs all a good game to her. Entertaining to see him against the ropesâdesperate enough to reach out to her. For once though, itâs calming. It soothes his anger and reminds him why he agreed to this at all. This time, he had an ace up his sleeve.
âThen Iâll tell just that to whoever needs to knowâyou know I have the evidence. Youâll go down right alongside me.â
In the quiet solace, for a moment, sheâs outplayed. Her smile falters and brows crinkle. Truthfully, as much as heâd love to, he could never sell her out. But she had a terrible tendency of assuming the worst of him, and he was banking on that.Â
âPlease do, Iâm sure theyâd love to hear what I know about Obadiah.âÂ
Oh, so that was her ace.
A soft buzz vibrates his back pocket. He doesnât need omniscience to know itâs you. He can picture it clearlyâyou, traipsing around the penthouse looking for signs of life. He knows you hate that feeling, and he hates to cause it.Â
Thereâs a more pressing issue; not giving Pepper the emotional reaction she wants.
âYou wouldnât do that.â Spare words from some forgotten bin.Â
âNot if you donât force my hand.âÂ
A painful pause ensues. The valleyâs fauna recognize the tension, silencing out of respect for the sound of Tonyâs plan shattering. A true stalemate. Not what he came for, but his throat swells thinking about the aftermath from a war of attrition.Â
He canât let that get out, above all else. Thatâd be his dissolution. Stark Industries, everything he worked for would vanish. You, without question. You never see him the same again. The crafted image he sought, the life he was creating with you for you, itâd be wasted effort.Â
âWhatâs it gonna take for you to help me?â
After another migraine-causing conversation, Tony slumps into the driver seat, shoulders heavy and eyelids even heavier. Fifteen minutes have passed since your text, and he wonders if it's better not to answer at all.Â
[ everything okay? ]
[ be home soon ]
Ignore. Deflect. Move on. Â
The drive back to the city is less pleasant. Actually, itâs a nightmare that he disassociated through the moment he entered the garage. He was, tragically, fucked. There was no telling if he had the capital to replace whatever Pepper took, and he certainly couldnât risk everything by going public. And if he didn't give Pepper what she wanted, he might be looking at a depressing future behind bars. And that was not an option.Â
So heâs at the mercy of the ginger Judas who put him on the path in the first place. Go figure. Thereâs self-blame for entertaining this option at all. For not guessing sheâd snake her way into the upperhand like always. This wasnât a beast he could defeat with regular tactician and planning. No, he needed to surprise herâusurp her. Piss her off the way she pissed him off. Go against the grain and act in a way that she couldn't predict. Something she couldnât maneuver around.Â
So, when the mic graced his hands, and the coached words on his marriage, the marriage he never asked you about. The marriage he couldnât ask you about because he wasnât ready either.Â
He said fuck it, and did it anyway.Â
He knew you wouldâve said yes then, so you obviously would answer the same afterwards. Even if you were predictably, and understandably pissed, you loved him, and he intended to use that. Grand gestures were his thing after all. A huge public soiree was more on brand than some private dinner. And, he was Tony Stark. The man who got everything he wanted. Why would your hand be any different? Certainly it fell under the same bracket (and really, an argument could be made that he had your loyalty regardlessâthis was just a title).Â
It was justified in his mind the moment the words hit the mic. It just sounds rightâ Y/N Stark. Like he should have made it that way a long time ago. For a second, the ceaseless pit of vengeance is taken over by something more.Â
It;s even easier to justify when he gets a wave of childlike excitement over it. Imagining the ring on your finger, the life he could have with you. Palm trees and salt waves on a remote coast. No more Stark Industries, no more nightmares about cold federal prisons, just you and him.Â
Then, in the crowd, he spots what must be Pepperâs lookout. A short, brayish man stays still while dozen roar in congratulatory apologize. Pepper shouldâve coached him better, a clear sore loser in a room full of winners.Â
The real reason heâs doing this comes back. Tony makes a quick signal to the guard behind him, and moments later the man is escorted upstairs. He used to hate doing this. But he soon learned that humanity gets you nowhere in this business. Still, he almost tells his team to go easy. Then he remembers the cold look on Pepperâs face at the valley while he plead for mercy like a sad dog.Â
Fuck that. The man knew the risks. Itâs not Tonyâs fault they didnât play in his favor.Â
Out of whatever kindness was left, he makes a note to have his body dumped somewhere nice.Â
PART SIX SOON
#tony stark#tony stark x reader#seikkoiwrites#mcu fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark smut#avengers fanfiction#tony stark x f!reader
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"Professor...?"
"Not now." Hojo had to reach up with one hand to steady his dark glasses on his nose, when the blasts of Kadaj's spells struck hard enough to cause the walls to shake. Very good, he thought. The monitor showed the parameters of his subjects. Red XIII's heart rate was picking up, and quickly.
Maybe a proper fight or flight response was just what the creature needed to do as told.
"Come on, already."
"Professor Hojo!" His assistant cried this time, looking up from a second monitor. "We need to stop their fight! The mako energy is upsetting the specimens! The alarms from the containment bay below have already been set off. Subject Cobalt XIV and Indigo XV are growing restless, and Subject -"
"Enough of your yapping! If the Containment Bay is not properly containing my specimen, then make it do so!" The scientist barked right back, tossing a disgruntled glare as he noticed another shake making the glasses of the laboratory rattle. Only, this time, the lights went off too, instantly replaced by the red LEDs of the emergency generators. "Oh now what?"
"We have a breakout! One of the specimen has escaped!" Another assistant exclaimed from behind another screen. "We need to evacuate the floor! I'm calling security...!"
"Grrrr..." Hojo snarled, moving over to shove the poor man aside. "Must I always do everything myself in this place!? Get out of my way!"
Pressing a few buttons, he then unlocked a second console to grab onto a sturdy lever, pulling it all the way down. His lips distended into a grin, as he watched the floor at the center of the main cage begin to open up. Then, his grin widened into a full blown smirk. And then it was a laugh.
Oh, how entertaining this experiment was turning out to be!
"Let's spice things up a little!" He cackled.
~
Meanwhile, Red was still recovering after miraculously avoiding Kadaj's strikes. There was no way for him to even bite, so busy as he was just trying to stay alive.
But then... the metal floor under his paws began to vibrate and move.
"What...!?" He gasped, backing up as he noticed the hole forming in the middle. The floor was gradually receding, creating a massive maw between him and Kadaj. Inching more and more towards the edge, it'd soon leave no floor for them to stand on.
Looking inside, all he could see was pitch black, and smell the most awful stench of rot and sickness wafting from below.
With his ears flicking back, he looked up, through the glass, and back at Kadaj. "What is that freak doing!? Make him stop!"
But there was no stopping this. A moment longer, and there'd be nowhere left to go but DOWN.
With Hojo's words towards the beast, praising Kadaj's resilience and power and potential, boasting the fact he was holding back and was far more than this subject could handle with stubbornness alone, the silver haired SOLDIER bristled with pride, something painfully warm and bursting in his chest. He knew his worth, for the most part, and he proudly worked himself hard to assure he achieved every goal and demand given from Professor Hojo.
Yet moments, few and far between, of hearing such words from him still had such a deep impact.
He twisted his blade, wincing from the scratches and lingering pain from the impact of the creatures hind legs to his abdomen, but he'd felt worse. He was gathering himself, intent on putting more power into his next few attacks, to prove Hojo's words right.
Preparing another elemental attack, he just barely considered the beasts words. "I'm his accomplishment, not some toy. You'd do well to just achieve what he expects of you, if you have it in you, and this would be finished already." he retorted, with some amount of judgment and experience in his tone. "This will continue as long as it has to. Show me that fight you talked about having in you, when saving your little friend..."
His stomach turned, with excitement or some...thing, bringing up what he knew was private information this Red had shared with him, but he had to get him to do as Hojo wanted. The beast wouldn't last long otherwise, and Kadaj wouldn't be blamed for someone elses failures.
"Come on already, RED!!!" he threw forward his hand, sending two separate Fira blasts from the left and the right, before surging from above to slash downward towards his target.
#01a || lab rat dog. [ic: red xiii]#02c || Δγλ 0006 [canon verse: hojo's specimen]#umbralstigmataunbound#umbral-stigmata-unbound#[& kadaj]
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Romangerri | The Red Means I Love You
âGoodness youâre bleeding, what a wonderful feeling. Youâre down and youâre pleading, my head is just reelingâŠâ
#roman roy#Gerri Kellman#Romangerri#roman x gerri#gerri x roman#romegerri#j smith Cameron#kieran Culkin#succession#succession hbo#succession edit#roman Roy edit#gerri kellman edit#romangerri edit#the red means i love you#cause my insides are red and yours are too#madds buckley
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And i've always heard its what's inside that counts
#cause my insides are red and yours are too#and the red on my face its matching you#and goodness youre bleeding#what a wonderful feeling#youre down and youre pleading#my head is just reeling#the red means i love you#!!!!!#tasting your blood means i love you!!!!!!!
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college gal pals that dont have any bloody homoerotic slasher x victim thing going on in campus grounds at midnight ever
#cw blood#reverse 1999#Blonney#reverse 1999 oc#oc x canon#oc - Valentine#ValenBlon#mochadoodles#cause my insides are red. and yours are too#wlw
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the song Red Means i Love You by Madds Buckley could fit your Tartaglia/Zhongli liking
Anon we will have a summer wedding.
#anon#ask#answer#oh my god these lyrics are nutty#taru point of view for sure and post-osial#which would assume he's capable of harming zhongli and it wouldn't be a one-sided beating but i can fantasize#he's also fantasizing that's the song#i've seen his lines for zhongli he wants to make him feel sorry so bad and he wants to hurt him physically like he's been hurt emotionally#genshin#zhongchi#thank you so much anon i'm going to be tossing#'cause my insides are red and yours are too'#'and the red on my face is matching you'#'and goodness you're bleeding'#'what a wonderful feeling'#'you're down and you're pleading'#'my head is just reeling'#in my head all day#tartaglia's a little unhinged when it comes to zhongli#i remember the first time i listened to his line where he laughs over the traveler telling him he doesn't stand a chance#and at least in chinese his laugh is almost scary#it's such a good laugh really conveys how pissed he is. skill differences be damned he needs to fight him.
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cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink
Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.
You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.
He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addictingâwatching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.
"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.
A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.
"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don'tâ!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.
"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.
Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.
"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrasedâhot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."
You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.
It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.
When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to sayâalways. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.
"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.
He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.
Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.
When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.
When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.
"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aahâ!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.
The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."
He really should start doing this more often.
#jjk megumi#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi smut#megumi x y/n#megumi x reader#megumi x you
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Cause My Insides are Red
And Yours are Too
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#marcille#falin#farcille#gore#horror art#muscle#skeleton#nervous system#dungeon meshi is one of those mangas everyone should read if they even think they want to#like its so good#illustration
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