#i HATE having NO CONTROL i just need SOME just a SEMBLANCE even

[jrueships]

I HAVE TO GO ON A LONG CAR TRIP WITH FRIENDS MY LOVED ONES AND I WOULD BE SO HAPPY EXCEPT THE VOICES AHHHHHHHHHHH

[bisexualiteaa]

I’d let the world burn for you

Silco x fem reader (ANGST!)

Synopsis: When Jinx undergoes shimmer surgery to save her life, but what if it was his lover instead of Jinx?

CW: season 1 spoilers, established relationship, reader sustains a near fatal injury, heavy talk of needles, shimmer and its effects, brief mentions of bl00d, brief mentions of a knïfe, talk of drügs, surgery, angst with good ending, possible grammar/spelling errors, proofread

A few great songs that I listened to while writing this incase yall are interested! I truly can’t recommend this soundtrack enough, it’s so perfect ♥️

AN: this idea came to me spontaneously and I kind of just wanted to see where my mind could take it! It is 1am however as I post this so please be kind. 😭 Also felt like changing it up a little bit with some angst thrown into the mix, I’m enjoying writing for Silco but of course, asks are open if yall want anything in particular! As always, I hope you all enjoy! ♥️

Where did it all go wrong? It was the question he’d been asking himself for far too long now, wondering what he could have possibly done, how this unspeakable act could have been avoided. Yet through all the possibilities there wasn’t an answer he’d come to that satisfied him enough. No answer that brought him enough peace.

One moment he was in his chair, leaned over his desk with a drink in hand as he looked over the papers that sat in front of him. The next, Sevika was carrying your limp body that sat unmoving in her arms. Now here you were, coldly strapped to a surgical table, making you look more like a test subject for something horrific rather than a patient seeking care, your breathing so faint that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, afraid that if he did you may stop breathing all together. “How did this happen?!” Silco asked, hands gripping the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles were turning white, anger heavily entwined in his tone as he looked to Sevika. He needed answers and hated that he didn’t have a single one. “I don’t know, I was inside when it happened. I’d heard what sounded like a scuffle from not too far but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Figured maybe a topsider had tread into the wrong territory, or was a deal gone bad. Then when I stepped outside I just saw her lying there” Sevika answered, looking to you as your body lay bound to the table uncaringly, a pang of sympathy in her gaze as she looked upon you in such a tragic state. As much as she didn’t understand your dynamic with Silco, she couldn’t deny the fact that she’d started to warm up to you a little over time. Seeing Silco happy because of you gave her a semblance of peace, and everyone took notice of the way that you seemed to brighten up the place a bit whenever you were around. She admired the way that he was willing to burn the world to cinders and ash for you, how you were the calm to his raging storm. You complimented one another perfectly. Despite her lack of understanding of your relationship, you didn’t deserve what had been done to you, and they both had a feeling it was likely a strategic hit. One meant to rattle Silco, throw him off his game and distract him, yet all it seemed to do was fuel his already raging fire. “And you didn’t even think to check?!” He asked, blind rage flowing through him like the very blood in his veins. “How was I supposed to know it was her? You can’t expect me to keep my ear out every time there’s a fight! For fucks sake, they happen too often here!” She defended, making him sigh heavily with agitation. She was right, it was rather unreasonable of him to expect such a thing but he felt so helpless in this moment, he couldn’t stop himself from lashing out. Seeing you hurt to such a point as this made him angry. Ultimately he was out of control in this situation, and it left him seeing red.

He smoothed his hands through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling to the bright lights, trying to collect himself the best he could for the time being. “Find who did this” he ordered, ready to give whoever did this to you as taste of his wrath. “Are you sure you want to stay here for this? I can watch over her if you’d rather. I can’t imagine this is going to be easy on either of you, especially her” she offered, knowing this would be hard for him to watch, and even harder on you to have to go through it. “No, I need to be here. I can handle it, I need to know she’s okay” he replied before looking to you, grabbing your hand gently in his, touching you so softly and carefully as if you were made of glass and could shatter at any moment. He wasn’t there to aid you when you’d gotten hurt, the guilt of it ate away at him, forcing him to stay here with you now, even if the sight of you in such pain tore him apart inside. “Who could do such a thing as awful as this to someone this kind?” He asked, his question rhetorical but gods how he wished he had an answer. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t, but it baffled him nonetheless. “When you find who did this, be sure to send them to me. An act this egregious will suffer a great consequence” he finished, watching her nod her head silently in acknowledgment before walking out to find who did this to you.

“This process will be…demanding. Sometimes death is a far greater mercy” Singe spoke as he walked over to his tools, ensuring everything was prepped for your procedure. “She can take it. I know she can” Silco replied, looking to the scarred man as he pulled out a syringe and a vial, filling it with a yellowish-green liquid. “Before I begin, I must know; are you prepared to lose her?” Singe asked, a question that made Silco furrow his brows in confusion as he looked to the doctor. What kind of question is that? It was a preposterous question, one he couldn’t possibly think of any other response to than the one he was about to give. As he was about to speak, he heard you sputter into a short coughing fit, blood splattering along your lower lip and chin as you winced and groaned in pain, writhing beneath the binds that held you to the table. Silco’s eyes widened with a gasp as you did, all but hurling himself toward you to check and see if you were okay. He leaned over you, hand cupping your cheek as a look of concern flashed across his face, trying to read your expression and watching your breathing as he called your name in the hopes it would get you to look at him. He wasn’t looking for a sign, anything to show him that you were okay. Yet your eyes were too heavy to open, body too weak to respond the way he wanted you to.

“She won’t die, doctor. She can’t” he finally responded, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek as his hand smoothed through your hair, sweeping it from your face in attempts to keep it out of your eyes should they open again before the process began. He hovered over you protectively, thumb caressing your skin in a soothing manner. It was a soft gesture you’d always done to him, a gesture he’d adopted from you after the countless times you’d done it to him. From wiping the tear from his eye after his injections, to simply doing so to grab his attention, it was something so soft, so gentle, so you. It only felt right to return the gesture. “I understand” the doctor replied, pulling out a chair, the hiss of the metal scratching against the floor a vile sound that filled the air for thankfully only a moment before he trailed over to the table and behind Silco. “But please understand, this is for your own sanity” Singe said as he injected half of the syringe of liquid into Silco’s neck, helping him fall to the chair he had pulled out. The dizziness and weakness had already begun to set in, the world moving around him slower and more blurry than normal. Everything was slightly muffled as if he were underwater, finally making it click what he had injected him with. It was a sedative.

You gasped for air as your eyes opened, coughs sputtering from your throat that felt dry as sandpaper. Your eyes scanned your surroundings, fear evident in your gaze as you looked to the bright lights then searched your surroundings, panic striking you as you fought against the straps holding you against the table. You yelped in pain as an injection was soon pushed into your veins, causing you to look down at what was happening. The bright purple liquid shining beneath your skin told you that it was Shimmer coursing through you now. It left trails up your arm from the injection site, purple and black trails that looked as if it were reviving your cells and killing them at the same time. It was terrifying, and the pain was insurmountable, leaving you to groan in pain and muscles tensed as you squirmed on the cold, metal table.

For a moment, the pain seemed to let up long enough for you to turn your head to the other side of the room to see Silco in a chair, slumped over. He looked tired, but something wasn’t quite right, he wouldn’t be so tired as to sleep while this was happening. Your breathing was harsh, ragged even as you tried to focus on his expression but the ebbing pain, mixed with the effects of the shimmer as it reached your blood stream and found its way through every vein and artery now made it nearly impossible. “Sil…” you called out for him weakly, attempting to reach out towards him but your hands were bound to the table, leaving you to lie there helplessly. You felt so cold, so sore, but above all else, you felt so alone. Was this death? Rebirth maybe? You weren’t sure, all you knew was that it was extremely unpleasant, your body and mind screaming for it to be over. Unfortunately your painless moment had quickly come to an end as more of the iridescent liquid seared through your veins once more, only serving to turn the veins within your arm more and more angry as you winced in pain. You gasped and sputtered as it climbed up your arm, past your shoulder into your neck before spilling from your tear ducts and mouth as you coughed, desperate for air to fill your lungs. You felt as if you were nearly drowning, as if you were being given far too much for your body to be able to withstand. A shrill, excruciating scream escaped you as you begged for it to stop, detesting cries leaving your lips as agony consumed you whole. It felt like torture and all you could do was endure it. “I understand this must be painful. I’m afraid it will only get worse” the doctor spoke, his apathetic words doing nothing to soothe your pain or calm you as he brought another needle to your cheek. “No! No, please no…stop!” You yelled, trying your hardest to jerk away from the needle but it was no use, like a caged animal, there was no escape from this. You closed your eyes as he pricked you again, making you cry out once more in pain as your body was shocked and overwhelmed from the sheer amount of trauma being done to it. He only seemed to smile as he did all this to you, watching you writhe in agony and cry out in pain only seemed to bring him joy in a way that you loathed. Everything around you was getting fuzzy at the edges, you couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. From there, it was all a blur. Your mind blacking out from the immense amount of pain in such a concentrated period of time. It had felt like an eternity before it all was finally over.

Silco opened his eye to see his hands resting against his thighs, the world spinning around him as he did his best to shake the effects of the drug he was injected with, trying to ground himself to reality. How much time had passed? Was the procedure done? Had he healed you? All questions that he again, did not have the answers to, but at least they were easier to access being that he was here in the room with you. He looked up from the floor to the table, seeing you were no longer bound in those awful straps, but that your eyes were still closed, not looking much different than when he first brought you in here. He groaned with confusion as he fought to catch his breath that seemed a little harder to obtain than normal, stumbling to his feet and towards the doctor who was currently washing a blade with his back turned to Silco. He turned momentarily when Silco pushed him against the sink, grasping him with all the energy and strength he could muster, looking upon him angrily with a fire raging in his eyes. “What have you done?” He rasped out, voice laced with vexation and eyes filled with malice as he waited for the doctor to answer him. “I saved her life” he responded matter-of-factly, making him only scowl deeper as he quickly snatched the knife from the sink and pointed it at Singe, not believing him.

“Sil…?” You called out weakly, voice hoarse from all your coughing, screaming and crying but just loud enough for him to catch. His eyes widened with surprise as he heard you, head turning to look at you reaching out for him. Your eyes searched around the room for him as you’d only just returned to consciousness. In a moment’s notice the knife came clambering to the ground as he stumbled over to you, doing the best he could to get there quickly despite the effects of the drug still weighing pretty heavy in his system. He grabbed your hand as he made it, resting his other against the table and using it to hold him up as he hovered over you protectively again. Silco felt you weakly squeeze his hand back, prompting him to pull you up into a hug so fast you could hardly recognize it had happened. “Thank gods you’re here” you spoke. He was so overcome with joy and relief to see that you were okay, or at least responsive, which compared to how you were before, was already a massive improvement. “I’m here, darling. I’m here, I’ll always be here” he assured, his hand smoothing over the back of your head as he held you protectively in his arms. He nearly cried as he felt you wrap your arms around him in return, kissing your head gently as his heart raced, pounding harshly within his chest from all the adrenaline coursing through him.

His heart broke as he saw the effects the procedure had done to your body, looking to the purple and black streaks running up your arms, tainting your perfect skin. He’d recognized those effects from anywhere. Shimmer. Rage overtook him once more as he turned to the doctor upon his realization. “You used Shimmer on her?!” He asked, voice raised in disbelief that he would use such a harsh, untamed chemical on you under the guise of trying to help you. “It saved her, didn’t it?” The doctor replied, making him seethe with exasperation. “It could have KILLED her!” Silco spat, not taking kindly to Singe’s apathetic tone, but your soft touch brought him back to reality. Your hand cupped his cheek, turning him to face you in the hopes that you could soothe his anger, and you managed to do so with ease. His eyes fell to yours as he turned, that wicked, violent look in his gaze beginning to fade away as he looked at you, seeing a new shade residing in your irises than before. He was doing his best to not allow the scars that had climbed up your arm to your neck to break this tender moment, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt that he caused you this pain, he caused these scars, these changes. Yet you continued to smile at him as if he hung the stars in the sky above. The atrocities he would commit for you to see that smile stay stretched across your sweet lips. To keep you safe and happy. He would kill for you, die for you. “It’s okay, I’m here love. There is no need for such violence, I promise” you spoke, your kind voice so strained, but you were right, he had saved you, something he was thankful for, he just wished it could have been brought about any other way. He fought so long and so hard to keep you as far away from it as possible, yet here you stand, saved by it. It was a conflicting feeling. Now all that was left was to find the vile person caused all of this to come about, but perhaps that was better suited for another time, another day. For now, all he wanted was to get you home safe, to enjoy the time he has with you now that he wasn’t sure he would have when he and Sevika had first brought you here. You needed the rest, your body was tired and so sore. Your recovery was his top priority, so for now his vengeance would have to come another day, but he could rest easy for now knowing that you were still here with him. The world would live to survive another day, but make no mistake, he would burn it all to the ground for you if you asked him to.

[ddodol]

body on me — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf!eunseok, fem!reader, pet names, slight body worship (m.), eunseok is described as beefy, oral (m.), unprotected SEX. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.8k+

a/n; self-indulgent body worship, don't ask

you ran your hands up and down eunseok's clothed chest, mesmerized with how much he managed to bulk up in a few weeks.

"like how it feels, princess?" he asks teasingly, taking one of your hands in his and pulling it towards his lips. eunseok placed kisses all over your hand, staring up at you with intensity, his round eyes pulling you in. you were sat on his lap, a stack of bandages wrapped around your other hand.

you could feel your breath hitching in your throat, body flushing up at the smallest amount of skin that was peeking out. you couldn't have imagined eunseok achieving his goal within a few months, his body feeling more sturdy against your comparatively soft hands.

it was a simple agreement, with you helping eunseok get in his choice of a costume, which just happens to require bandages— a lot of them. also, him being naked underneath.

eunseok had bragged that you'll be falling for him all over again once halloween rolls around, and you hated how he was right.

you frowned at eunseok, a small pout gracing your lips as he laughs at the complicated expression on your face. "should i undress or will you be doing that for me?" you hated how cocky he was getting, fully aware of the effect he had on you.

"i'll do it," you spoke with a huff, hands trembling miserably in spite of your fake irritation. you took his shirt off, eyes immediately glued on his arms. you always loved eunseok's tanned skin, the desire to sink your teeth into his skin has always been there but tonight you felt it even more, overwriting any semblance of self-control you had left.

you gasped softly, eyes tracing over his collarbone. you took in every curve and dip, mindlessly biting your bottom lip as you continued to admire him. you placed your hands on his arms, kneading his muscles with your palms.

eunseok couldn't be more satisfied, the smug smile on his face never once coming down as you admired the results of his hard work. there was always a part of him that strived for such a reaction from you, finding the way your mouth would drop open in surprise or how your eyes sparkled at the smallest peek of his skin adorable. admittedly, eunseok wasn't one to take his clothes off during intimate moments, only taking them off once you two were done to put it on you while you dozed off.

despite being together for quite some time, you were ashamed to admit that you've never really seen his body properly until tonight. you timidly glanced into his eyes, fingers ghosting over his defined collarbone, "is this all for me, seok? or is this all for your stupid mummy costume?"

eunseok couldn't help but laugh, cheeks turning pink as the sound of his laughter filled the room. he tilted his head back, smiling fondly as your lips grazed against each other's, "all for you, my love."

satisfied, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning down to kiss him passionately. eunseok groaned against the kiss, brows furrowing as he pressed you down onto his lap. you felt warm and soft against his bare skin, his chest already turning red at the contact.

you pulled away, panting softly. you were in a daze, hands never stopping its exploration of eunseok's built body. "i need to feel your body on me, seok," you whined, leaning in to gently bite on his collarbone.

eunseok shivers at the bite, skin turning an adorable shade of pink once you let go. fascinated by his reaction, you scattered more kisses around his chest, gently pushing him down the bed. the bandages on your hand were soon forgotten, running both your hands across his chest and gently clawing down to his stomach.

"y/n," eunseok sighs, eyes closing contentedly as you caressed his muscles, "you like it that much?"

you stared into his eyes, your own sparkling as you nod eagerly. he chuckles, caressing your arms as you continued your exploration of his body. you leaned in to kiss his right chest and you could've sworn you felt his heart pounding against your lips. you gently licked his skin, smiling when he shuddered at the sensation. you sucked on a small spot just below his collarbone, biting more eagerly once you heard his quiet moans.

you could feel eunseok's bulge growing and pushing up against your thigh as you continued to trail kisses down his lean stomach. you gently grazed your teeth over his undefined abs, licking up a small strip over the lines. you made sure to place a small kiss on every skin, his muscles tensing up at the feeling of your soft lips.

eunseok threw his head back when you kissed his cock through his sweatpants, fists balling up in an effort to control himself. he looked back down at you through hooded eyes, cheeks bright pink.

you smiled at him, hands pulling his sweatpants teasingly slow. his cock bounced right up as soon as you pulled them down, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at his impressive state. eunseok's tip was red, veins popping out angrily as it twitched at the feeling of your breath on his sensitive length.

"princess, be a good girl for me," it was almost like a breathless plea from eunseok. you give him a small nod, mouth hovering over his twitching cock. you licked up his shaft, tongue swirling over his red tip as you stare up at him. eunseok moaned, struggling to keep his eyes on you.

"i'll be good, promise," you rubbed your lips against his leaking tip, spreading his precum down his shaft, "just wanted to show how much i appreciate you, baby." he shuddered, clenching his jaw once you finally took him in your mouth.

a drawn out moan left his lips, face contorting in pleasure as you eagerly bobbed your head onto his cock. eunseok ran his hand through your messy hair, keeping rogue strands off of your face so he could keep on admiring you. "that's it, baby. that's my girl, doing so well," he coos, chest heaving as he watched your eyes well up with tears from his cock hitting the back of your throat.

eunseok gripped on the sheets by his sides, body starting to tense up as his orgasm approached. "baby, get up. ride me, now," he ordered shakily, biting down on his teeth at how quickly you pulled away. eunseok's cock was throbbing against the cold air, watching you get on top of him.

you hovered on top of his cock, lips all glossy from earlier. eunseok pulled you in his arms, hands needily gripping on your ass as he pressed kisses on your lips. "love you, baby. i love you so much," he whispered against the kiss, pushing you down onto his length without a warning. eunseok could've sworn that he almost came as soon as he entered, still feeling the rush from your earlier ministrations.

you cried out against his mouth, body trembling at the sudden stretch. eunseok continued to slowly move you up and down his length, breaking the kiss to leave his own marks on your neck.

eunseok groaned against your skin, sucking and biting down your throat. "fuck, i'd keep hitting the gym if i get to have this all the time, princess." you chuckled breathlessly, throwing your head back as he continued to leave marks all over your skin.

"you know you can get it anytime you want, baby," you murmured, looking back down into his eyes as you cup his face. eunseok smiled, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against your palm. he lifted your hips up before laying you down on the bed.

"i'll take your word for it," he teased, taking in your index finger in between his teeth as he thrusted deep and hard into your welcoming heat. eunseok panted softly, face contorting at your walls desperately swallowing him deeper. his pace was brutal, hips snapping against yours at an impossibly fast tempo. you could feel his tip pushing against your deepest walls, crying out at every thrust.

he leaned down, caging you in between his arms as he pressed kisses all over your flushed neck. you clenched down on his cock with every peck, spurring him on to keep going. you sobbed, scratching down his arms, the marks appearing almost immediately and leaving red lines against his skin.

"close?" eunseok asks breathily, hips starting to stutter as his release got closer. unable to utter a single cohesive thought, you nod dumbly. he chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "you just love getting fucked stupid, don't you?" his voice rumbled against your flushed skin, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine.

you whimpered, tangling your fingers through the ends of his hair and tugging on them. eunseok moaned in response, brows furrowing as he looked at the expression you were making. you were completely fucked out, your mind was a mess and your body felt way too sensitive— all you could think about was his cock hitting deep inside you as your own orgasm began to build up.

"can't talk back, princess?" he taunts, "feeling too good?" you nod absentmindedly, moans stringing out of your parted lips in a complete daze. "then cum for me." you shuddered, closing your eyes shut as your body tensed up in no time.

"fuck! eunseok!" you cried out, gripping tightly on his arms, your nails scraping and almost digging into his flesh. eunseok winced, stilling deep inside and rolling his hips against yours. you felt your orgasm hitting you hard in a split second, thighs trembling pathetically as your arousal pooled onto the sheets. you held onto eunseok for support, rolling your hips against his twitching cock to draw out both of your pleasure.

eunseok smirks in satisfaction, arm muscles bulging as he wrapped them around your waist, leaning forward to rest his face against your chest. he let out a contented sigh, body slowly starting to relax at your comforting scent.

the dim room went silent, save for your soft breathing and the smooching noises eunseok kept making as he kissed your shoulder in appreciation. you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth that surrounded you.

"we're late," you murmured tiredly when eunseok pulled out of your still fluttering heat. his face twitched sensitively, letting out a deep breath before laying down beside you.

"it's fine, i'm sure taro will understand." you turned your head towards him, your body getting pulled into his embrace. eunseok was still half naked, his flushed skin feeling warm against yours. your fingers traced over the scattered marks you left all over his chest, drawing lines over them.

you hummed, a small smile on your lips as you take your time to appreciate his muscular arms once more. eunseok chuckles tiredly, deciding to play along and flex his arms for you. your eyes went wide, surprised to see how defined they looked.

eunseok grins, rolling over to pin you down the mattress. "still wanna go?" he whispered, peppering kisses all over your neck.

"tell me you don't want to go to the party and i'm all yours tonight, baby," eunseok pleaded, huge eyes staring into yours as his cock stirred back into life, "i need to make sure i return the favor."

you reach down to grab his hardened length, giggling, "fuck the party, you look way better with your stupid costume off anyway."

[sugarcubeindulgent]

being in a relationship with bill dickey.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. toxic behavior. possessiveness. insecurities. misogyny. sexism. fluff. noncon/dubcon themes. suggestive content.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ wants to know where you are and who you are with constantly. but he'll get irritated if you ask where he's going or who he'll be with. he'd say something mean like "use your fucking head." in response.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ constantly projects his insecurities onto you. any bout of insecurity will make him violent and volatile. if you stay out longer than promised he'd call you forty times in a ten minute span and spam you with messages. the moment you try to text back or call him, oops! you're blocked.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he will not wear a condom. period. the birth control is all on you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ buys whatever scent you use so he can spray it on his pillow and in his blankets, it helps him sleep better.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ has an odd thing where he likes to watch you eat. i can't explain it and neither could he.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ loves to buy you candies. gives you a lot of "i thought of you" gifts. loads of burned CD's despite his hate of music.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ drinks whenever he's mad at you. despite being a miserable man he can never handle seeing you cry, when he's drunk he can handle it just well which means more insults and personal hits.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ likes to go shopping with you but would never admit it. you ask his opinion and he'd comment on having a penis so how would he know?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ always sleeps better when you're with him.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ will not let you have male friends. not even if they're gay.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you have an ailment (dry eyes, asthma, allergies, etc.) he'd carry around something to make it easier. (eye drops, pills, an extra inhaler, etc.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he cannot tell you he loves you, even if he does the words will never ever leave his mouth to you. not when you can hear it or register it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sex will make him forgive you for anything. you could burn every comic book he owns but if you let him do whatever he wants to you or do whatever he asks of you - all is forgiven.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ tries to shower more often + have some semblance of hygiene for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ hits things when you're arguing. he 100% knows what he's doing when he hits things and throws stuff in your direction.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ apologizes for anything and everything by simply acting like nothing happened. confront him about it and a new argument will start.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ actually takes an interest in your hobbies and interests. he will make fun of them though, especially if they're feminine-oriented in any capacity.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ doesn't defend you when the guys objectify you. will only speak up if they remark about you being out of his league or him not being enough for you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ if he's sober during an argument and you cry, he's not taking back anything but he's very uncomfortable and guilty. will usually try to hug you or something as if that makes everything better.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ needs constant reassurance and even then it wouldn't be enough.

[amaya-writes]

Can I request headcanons with L, Light and Mello with a s/o who's a genius (like them) but acts stupid (like bimbo-ish) just to annoy people?

Notes: I'm SO sorry I took forever to get this out!

Warnings: n/a just fluff

Characters involved: L, Light, Mello

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

L

Finds you intriguing.

You're like a puzzle to him. He wants to figure out your motives and understand why anyone would willingly act this way.

It doesn't take him long to understand you're smarter than you let on, however, your reasoning puzzles L a lot.

If you met him during the events of Death Note he immediately decides you're an asset and takes you to his side. You're like the Misa to his Light.

Your job would be to survey Misa, work in the same places as her, join her on any jobs. Since you're good at faking your bimbo personality you easily get along well with her.

At first Light even falls for the guise but with time he realises you're smarter than you look.

Even after Light understands your true personality L still keeps you around to help out. He often takes you with him when he's stalking surveying people and would even ask your opinions on the situation.

At first he used to find you annoying and his opinion of you was very similar to his opinion of Misa. However, with time L starts to find your interactions with others sort of amusing.

He sees your personality as a game, but outside of the Kira case he doesn't really interact with you.

To him, you're just another factor in the case.

Light

Hates it.

Unlike L, Light takes slightly longer to catch on to your personality.

You meet through Misa since you are friends with her. At first, Light presumes you're just like the other girls Misa works with but as time goes on he realises your true potential.

He only gets interested in you once you confess you think he's Kira.

Light's first instinct is to kill you but he refrains from doing so since he thinks he could use you. To him, you're just another pawn he can control to win against L.

L might have some semblance of a bond with you but Light only sees you as an object for his schemes. If he feels that you won't be easily manipulated then he doesn't bother associating with you since you are no use to him.

However, if you are easily swayed his way then Light uses you as an unsuspecting source for information.

With L and the rest of the team constantly hovering over his shoulder Light needed someone on the outside to help him execute his schemes.

Over time he comes to appreciate your wit as it makes it easier to carry out his plans. However, he still expects you to listen to him and hates when you get too creative.

He sometimes wishes you were the one with the Death Note instead of Misa because that would make everything happen so much more smoothly.

He expects you to have your regular personality when interacting with him. If you act like a bimbo when it's just the two of you he gets visibly annoyed.

While you are a genius like him you don't posses the almost inhumane lack of empathy Light is known for, which is why you don't realise the bond you share with him is purely that of a master and his pawn.

Mello

A mixture of the two.

Like L, he finds it weird that you would want to act like a bimbo especially since being a genius is something he always strived for growing up.

To him it's almost like you don't value the skillset his entire life revolves around.

However, he also sees the value in your mannerisms.

Unlike Near, Mello chose to associate himself with the mafia, that meant he needed trustworthy allies who he could rely on to get the work done.

At first he sees you as just another one of the bimbos his men would use as flings and then discard of, but after a few days he realises your true intentions.

You played the role of the innocent girl hopelessly in love with a mafia man yet in reality were using them for your fulfillment. (This can be anything from stealing from the guy you were with to leveraging his connections to complete some personal vendetta.)

Once Mello realises your true persona his first instinct is to get rid of you.

There is only space for one genius in his circle and he can't risk being potentially overthrown.

However, you make him see the value in having you around.

With time, you, Mello, and Matt become a team of sorts. You become a trio known for controlling the mafia groups.

Most people simply presumed you were Mello's bimbo girlfriend he kept around for eye-candy, which made it easy for him to use you to get what he needed.

However, unlike Light, Mello knows the value of having reliable allies (like Matt). He never really places his full trust in you, but with time Mello comes to appreciate you.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Pretty please - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Pretty please - Dua Lipa - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +3k

a/n: sorry for the unreasonable expectations i'm setting on this one.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

I sat at my desk, the glow of my laptop casting a harsh light across the piles of papers and open notebooks. The emails kept coming, ping after relentless ping, demanding my attention.

My head ached, my shoulders were stiff, and it felt like the world was closing in on me one deadline at a time. But I had to handle it. I always did.

My phone buzzed on the edge of the table, and I glanced at the screen. Lewis, of course.

Hey, how’s your day going?

I ignored it, not because I didn’t care, but because I knew he’d hear the tension in my reply. And I couldn’t afford to be distracted—not when I still had so much to do.

He was supposed to be in LA, anyway, probably getting involved in some other whoe new industry or just soaking up the sun. You never knew with him.

I rubbed my temples, willing myself to focus. But my mind was running wild, thoughts ricocheting between what I’d done and what I still needed to do. My coffee had gone cold an hour ago, but I didn’t bother to make some more.

A knock sounded at the door, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. Maybe I’d ordered something and didn’t remember.

But then there was a second knock, this one heavier, more deliberate. I hesitated, irritation bubbling up. Who the hell was showing up unannounced?

I swung open the door and my breath caught in my chest. There he was—Lewis, standing on my hall, looking way too put together in his black hoodie and sweatpants, like he’d just casually dropped by.

His face broke into that familiar, infuriatingly warm smile, ready to break any of my resolves. “Hey, love.”

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, and I could see the slight arch of his brow. But he just tilted his head, slipping his hands into his pockets like he had all the time in the world.

“I had a feeling you might need some company.” His eyes scanned my face, lingering on the shadows under my eyes. I hated how he could read me so easily, even when I was doing my best to keep it together.

“I’m busy, Lewis. I don’t have time for—” I waved a hand vaguely, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

He stepped closer, almost inside the doorway, crowding my space in a way that made my pulse quicken. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts in line. “You can’t just show up whenever you want, you know?. I have work, I have—”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, a light touch shut me up.

I hated how easily my body responded to him, how the heat of his hand on my skin made my mind go blank, even if just for a second.

“You’re doing it again” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. “Where you pretend like you don’t need anyone, like you can handle everything on your own.” He took a step closer, his chest nearly brushing mine, and I had to fight the urge to lean into him.

“That’s because I can handle it” I snapped, my voice lacking the conviction though.

“Of course you can.” He said it like it was a given, like he wasn’t doubting my strength for a second.

But then he tilted his head, and the edge of his smile softened. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a break.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. It was like he’d found the one chink in my armor, the one place where my stubbornness couldn’t quite hold up against the exhaustion pressing down on me. He took another step, closing the distance between us, his hands sliding to my waist, steadying me.

“Thought so” he murmured, a trace of a smile in his voice, but there was a seriousness behind it too—like he knew just how much I needed this, even if I couldn’t admit it.

I hated how easily he could disarm me, how his presence was enough to make all the chaos in my head slow down, how he could give me the relief I craved.

And God, I wanted to let go, to stop fighting for just a little while.

Then I realized what I was doing and I pulled back, trying to regain my footing. “I can’t just drop everything because you showed up, Lewis,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.

God, even I could hear how unsteady I sounded, how much I was wavering.

His hands moved to cradle my face, tilting my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. “Y/n.” His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it too, like he wasn’t going to let me slip away this time.

I took a shaky breath. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the way he was looking at me, but suddenly all the fight went out of me, leaving behind only the aching need for someone to get my mind to shut up.

“Fine,” I said, the word coming out like a sigh, and his smile softened, turning almost tender. “But don’t think this means I’m—”

And his mouth was already pressing against mine in a kiss that stole the rest of my words. It was slow, deliberate, like he was taking his time, coaxing me out of my own head with every brush of his lips.

My hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and I couldn’t stop the way I melted into him, my body leaning into the solid strength of his.

His hands slid down to my waist, guiding me until we somehow ended up at my bedroom.

I felt my legs hit the edge of the bed and he eased me down, never breaking the kiss, and I let myself follow his lead, sinking into the mattress as he hovered over me, his weight pressing me down in a way that made my mind finally—blessedly—go quiet.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path down the side of my neck, and I couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped me, my hands threading through the hem of his hoodie as I arched into him.

His hands were everywhere—skimming down my sides, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, fingers dancing over my skin.

“You’re tense, love,” he murmured against my skin, his breath warm and teasing. “Let me take care of you.”

And for once, I didn’t argue. I just let him touch me, let the sensation of his hands on my body drown out everything else—every deadline, every worry, every thought that had been keeping me awake at night.

His mouth found mine again, and this time, I kissed him back with everything I had, pouring all my pent-up frustration and longing into the press of my lips against his.

His hands found the edge of my shirt, and I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head. The cool air hit my skin, but then his naked torso was pressing down against mine, his warmth seeping into me, making everything else fade away.

“Just let go, Y/n,” he whispered against my ear, his voice rough and breathless. “I’ve got you.”

His lips roamed over my body like he could go on for hours, grazing the curve of my jaw, then lower, pressing soft kisses down the column of my neck. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, the way he was taking his time, savoring each reaction that slipped out of me.

‘Because, clearly, taking your time is necessary when you surprise someone mid-meltdown’ I thought, trying to hold onto the irritation that was fading with every kiss. I couldn't deny how good it felt, even if he was showing up unannounced to dismantle my well-established stress routine.

“Lewis...” I murmured; a half-hearted protest caught in my throat. He chuckled softly against my collarbone, a low, rumbling sound that made my toes curl.

His mouth moved lower, tracing a path across my collarbone, then down to the swell of my chest. He took his time, planting kisses across every inch of skin he could reach, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot on my nipples.

My breath hitched, fingers tightening in his clothes, and he took it as encouragement, slipping out of his sweatpants, dragging out every moment until my thoughts began to unravel into the steady rhythm of his lips back on my skin.

“Relax, love,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against the curve of my breast.

I wanted to argue, to tell him that I couldn’t just relax on command, but the words caught when he started to kiss his way down my stomach, his hands trailing behind, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He reached the waistband of my leggings, his fingers toying with the fabric, and he looked up at me, eyes dark and focused, a question hanging in the air between us. I bit my lip, nodding once, and he flashed me that cocky little smile.

“Good girl,” he said, the words getting me wetter than I already was.

Then he peeled my leggings down my legs, slow and steady, like he was unwrapping a gift. I squirmed beneath him but he just pinned me with a look, like he wanted me to see just how much he was savoring every moment.

Because, of course, he just has to show off how he’s got all this control, while I’m lying here barely hanging on. Typical.

His hands settled on my thighs, spreading them apart, and I could feel the heat pooling low. He kissed the inside of my knee, then moved lower, trailing his lips along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, making my breath hitch.

“Lew” I whispered, my voice shaky, but he just hummed in response, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin until he reached the heat of my core. He paused there; his breath warm against me.

Seriously, he’s really going to take his sweet time, isn’t he? I thought, want twisting inside me.

And then he finally leaned in, his mouth pressing against me in a way that made my back arch off the bed, a soft moan escaping my lips before I could bite it back. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tasting every inch of me like he was committing it to memory, and I couldn’t help the way my hands fisted in the sheets.

He took his time, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place as he coaxed sounds out of me that I would be embarrassed to admit to. All I could focus on was the heat pooling low in my belly and the way his tongue was moving against me, driving me wild.

“Lew—oh my god,” I gasped, my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue flicked over my entrance, a finger making slow and round motions on my clit. My body trembled beneath him, walls clenching around his nothing as he held me in place, refusing to let up even when my legs began to shake.

“That’s it, love” he murmured against my skin, the words vibrating against me like they had the power to cloud my thoughts. “Let go for me.”

And then he doubled down, dragging his tongue across me with a precision that made my vision blur, sending me spiraling. I shattered around him, my body convulsing as he licked me through it, holding me steady.

When I finally came back down, my chest heaving with every shaky breath, he lifted his head, his lips and beard glistening, that smug grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Better now?” he asked, his voice rough, but a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Think I got some of that tension out?”

I let out a breathless laugh, my hands tugging him back for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips. “Not even close,” I shot back, my voice needy, a hunger that I couldn’t ignore. “I need you, Lewis. Now.”

His expression shifted, the teasing edge melting into something more intense. He brushed a thumb over my lower lip, his eyes searching mine like he was making sure I meant it, and when he saw the fire still there, his smile turned wicked.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing” he murmured, but he was already shifting above me, his body pressing me deeper into the mattress as his hands roamed over my skin. I could feel him through his boxers, hot and hard against my thigh, and a frustrated whine slipped out of me before I could stop it.

“You’re taking too damn long.” I muttered, arching up my hips against him, trying to close the distance between us.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound with a warning note to it. “You think I’m going too slow, huh?” His hand slid to the small of my back, flipping me over in one smooth motion before I could protest.

My chest hit the mattress, my breath catching as he pressed down on my lower back, keeping me in place.

“I’m gonna make that mind go blank” he growled against my ear, his hands ridding his dick out of the fabric, his voice dark and commanding, a promise in every word. “Stop squirming and let me take care of you.”

And then he thrust into me, hard and deep, and every thought scattered from my mind like glass shattering. A choked moan ripped from my throat, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the sheets as he set a relentless pace, his hips snapping against mine with enough force to make the bed creak.

My world narrowed down to the feel of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, each thrust sending me forward until I was trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he drove into me again and again, the sound of skin against skin mingling with our moans.

And just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled my back against his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist, and then in a smooth motion, he slipped out and flipped me onto my back.

My body felt like jelly beneath him, barely able to keep up with the shift, and my head spun.

He paused, leaning down to press a tender kiss to my lips. His movements slowed, and I could see something shift in his eyes—something that reached deeper than desire, like a vulnerability he wasn’t quite used to showing.

The rough edges of him softened, giving way to a quiet, unguarded expression that made my chest melt. My hand came up to touch his face, my thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone, and for a moment, the world felt like it was holding its breath.

The intensity drained from his features, replaced by gentleness, almost pleading, like he wanted me to understand all the things he couldn’t put into words.

Missionary. It was a language to him.

When he shifted into it, when he wrapped me in his arms and let his weight settle against mine, I knew he was saying something beyond touch.

His gaze held mine as he pushed inside me again, his forehead brushing against mine, and I felt that unspoken promise in every slow thrust. ‘I’m here, I’m yours, I won’t let you face this alone.’

And it wasn’t just about the pleasure; it was about the way he made me feel seen, peeling back every layer of my defenses, like he was taking the time to memorize every reaction, every shuddering breath and half-broken moan that slipped out of me.

His hips rolled in a rhythm that was almost gentle, each thrust angled just right, hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as I anchored myself against the tide of sensation that threatened to sweep me away.

“Baby” I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper. I could feel the tenderness in every movement, the way he looked at me. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the way he felt, the way he made me feel.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breath mingling with mine as he kept that slow, steady pace. “Right here, love” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but there was a softness in it too, like he was letting me in on some kind of secret. “I’ve got you.”

I nodded, unable to form words, too caught up in the way his body moved against mine, how he fit against me. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, his control faltering for a moment as he buried himself inside me to the hilt.

I held onto him like a lifeline, my heart pounding in my chest each thrust sent a wave of warmth spreading through me, settling deep in my bones. And every time he hit that spot, the one that made me see white, his eyes would flicker to watch my reaction, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Because of course he’s gotta make sure he’s doing it just right. Like he’s got some kind of checklist. Hit the spot, check. Make her breath hitch, check.

My thoughts slipped away into a haze of pleasure, my body arching against him, chasing that high that built with every roll of his hips. And just when it started to build, he slowed down, holding himself deep inside me, his forehead pressing against mine.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice almost too soft to hear over the sound of my ragged breathing. “You good?”

I let out a breathless laugh, my hand reaching up to brush the sweat from his cheek.

Gosh, the question was so him, so perfectly Lewis, checking in right at the edge. My chest tightened with something achingly tender, something that made me want to kiss him until I ran out of breath.

“Yeah” I replied, and there was a hint of awe in my voice that I couldn’t quite hide. “You—God, I don’t know how you’re real sometimes.”

He chuckled, but there was a flush of heat creeping up at his chest, a slight falter in the confidence that he usually wore like a second skin.

And that look in his eyes—soft, vulnerable—made my heart clench, like he wasn’t used to hearing that, even after everything.

“Real enough to keep going, yeah?” he teased, his smile turning mischievous as he shifted his hips just enough to draw a gasp from me. His hand brushed over my chin, the pad of his thumb stroking along my jaw as he held my gaze. “Or you need a minute, love?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, even as the corner of my mouth twitched with a smile. “What happened to making my mind go blank?” I shot back, my voice still breathy but with a bite to it, trying to keep up my bravado even as my body thrummed with every slight movement.

He grinned, that cocky little smirk that made something tighten low in my belly. “Already did. This one will be for us.” he promised, his voice dipping into that dark, velvety tone that made my toes curl. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Before I could fire back with something sarcastic, he angled his hips and thrust into me again, deeper this time, and the breath rushed out of my lungs in a sharp cry. My hands fisted in the sheets, clinging on for dear life as he started to move again, slow and deliberate again, like he was trying to draw every last bit of pleasure out of me.

And this time, there was no teasing. Just him, moving with a focus on my features that made my head spin, like he was determined to see me come apart in his arms. I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, couldn’t keep up the front, my head tipping back against the pillow as the pleasure built again.

It was almost too much—I could feel myself starting to unravel, my body trembling beneath him. And through it all, he never took his eyes off me, watching every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered.

When I finally came, the ringing in my ears and the white in my vision was almost like passing out. The pleasure made my mind go completely blank, like he’d promised.

My fingers digging into his shoulders as I held on, and he was right there with me, slowing his movements to help me ride out the high, his lips brushing against my temple, murmuring soft reassurances that I couldn’t quite make out.

My body went limp beneath him, a boneless, breathless mess, and he kissed me softly, his lips lingering against mine like he didn’t want to let go. I could feel his heart racing against my chest, his breath warm against my skin.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he teased, his voice rough but affectionate, his thumb tracing lazy circles along my hip. “Can’t even let yourself relax for five minutes.”

I let out a tired laugh, still not fully back to form a coherent come back, pressing a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You stay here and I’ll order some take out, I’m sure you haven’t eaten” He smiled, something soft and sweet in it, and then leaned in to kiss me again, properly this time, like he was sealing a promise.

______________________________________________________________

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[spacedace]

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

[03jyh23]

🩶⌇nights like these┆choi san

established relationship, idol!san x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where you are san's priority

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: descriptions of chronic illness, pain, nausea, and emotional distress

│words: 2.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! this one is a requested work that is very important to me! the person who requested it shared their struggles with me, so i put a lot of care and effort into writing this piece. i hope it brings them comfort and resonates with anyone else going through similar challenges. thank you for trusting me with your story. ♡

love, monika ♡

you: sannie, im sorry but im not gonna make it tonight, have fun! love you x

You barely typed out the message and leaned deeper into the soft pillows. You hated feeling that way, feeling completely out of control of your own body. It was as if your own flesh and bones had turned against you, conspiring to ruin the moments you had been looking forward to. Another rush of nausea hit you, stronger this time, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. The persistent and haunting question lingered in your mind: Why were you so out of control? You wished you could muster the strength to push through, to be by San's side, but tonight, your body had other plans. You were helpless against a body that sabotaged all your important plans. You wanted the energy to be with San, to support him and not to disappoint the person you loved yet again, but tonight, you knew there was nothing you could do to feel better. You just needed to lay through it  

After all this time of having this health problem, you learned just how to live with it, so since early morning you tried to push the symptoms aside, focusing on getting ready. It was a routine you had perfected—ignoring the pain, the nausea, the overwhelming fatigue. You had become a master of disguise, hiding your struggles behind a cheerful facade. But tonight, even your best efforts weren't enough. 

Usually, you would go about with your day, that's why you were currently lying flat on your bed dressed in that pretty outfit San bought for you especially for tonight, all ready to go and celebrate with him. Just as you were about to leave, the usual symptoms hit you with the power of a train. It was as if your body had chosen this exact moment to remind you of its frailty, to assert its dominance over your will. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, you were supposed to be standing beside San, holding his hand and cheering for him. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, planning every detail. The thought of disappointing him weighed heavily on you, maybe even heavier than the nausea. You knew how much it meant to him to have you there, and the guilt gnawed at you from the inside. 

A burning stomach pain flared up, adding to the discomfort. It felt as though your insides were on fire, each wave of pain more intense than the last. You clutched your stomach, curling up tighter, wishing for some relief. The pain was relentless, a cruel reminder of the battle you were fighting within your own body. It was moments like these when you felt most defeated, most vulnerable. 

"Baby?" you opened your heavy eyes only to see San kneeling beside the bed, eye level with you. You didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. His eyes were filled with concern, his short, black hair was styled back, making him look incredibly elegant. He wore a white shirt with the first few buttons casually unbuttoned. His eye makeup was minimal, with just a hint of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, exactly the way you always liked it. He must have rushed out straight from his dressing room, you thought as you blinked a few times to get rid of the tiredness. 

"Sannie? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

San reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I just had a feeling that today is rough on you. You didn't reply to any of my calls, so I rushed home," he said softly, his voice filled with concern and love. "I couldn't just leave you here alone," he said softly. "I wanted to be here for you." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your night," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. 

San shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, don't say that. You could never ruin my night. I just want to be here with you, make sure you're okay," he reassured, his hand gently stroking your head. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

"I just hate feeling like this, being a burden," you admitted, your voice trembling. 

San’s expression softened even more. His fingers traced the few tears that managed to escape your eyes, then he kissed your forehead whispering, "You never are nor never will be a burden." You closed your eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his soft lips against your skin, a tingling warmth spreading through you. The tension in your muscles began to melt away as San’s fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm. You took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you. The pain and nausea, though still present, seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his touch. 

"But the party?" you mumbled out, "The boys must be so disappointed." 

San shook his head gently, his expression softening even more. "Don't worry about them right now. The boys understood, and Hongjoong reassured me it was all good. What's important is that we take care of you," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace comforting patterns on your arm. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." 

He kissed your forehead again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Of course, my love. Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against your skin. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it eased some of the guilt that had been weighing you down. "Can you stand up? We need to get you in something comfortable first," San suggested gently, his hands ready to help you. You nodded weakly, grateful for his help as he eased you out of the outfit and into something more comfortable. 

"Is it any better now that you've slept for a while?" he asked, his voice filled with gentle concern as he rearranged the pillows on the bed. He brought an extra blanket, knowing you would likely get cold. 

"A little," you admitted, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. "But I can feel the migraine creeping in slowly," you added, your voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. 

San nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry. "I'll get your medication and some water," he said, standing up to fetch the items. 

"I don't think I can take the medications," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It feels like if I swallow anything, I would just rush to the toilet." 

San paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Okay, let's not push it then," he said softly, returning to your side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a soothing rhythm that started to calm your racing thoughts. He began drawing gentle patterns on your back, a gesture that always made you relax, his touch tender. 

You breathed in his cologne and felt your stomach clenching. The scent, usually comforting and familiar, now seemed overwhelming to your already sensitive senses. You backed out from his arms, holding a hand to your face to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you. San looked at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion and concern before it hit him. "Love, I'm so sorry, it's the perfume? Too strong? I'm gonna change," he said hurriedly, already moving towards the closet to find something else to wear. 

"It's okay, Sannie," you mumbled, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I just need a moment." 

But San had already swapped his formal shirt for something more comfortable and less scented. He returned to your side, "Better now?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for any sign of relief. 

You only nodded, and he took your hand, guiding you to the bed. "You are babying me too much," you mumbled as you followed in his steps, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment.

San shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hm...." he scoffed dramatically, "I think I don't baby you enough, though?" 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the pain and discomfort you were feeling. San's dramatic tone and exaggerated expression brought a moment of lightness to an otherwise heavy night. "Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to match his playful energy. 

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin, sitting down beside you. "Now, let's get you settled." You settled back into the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with San by your side. The pain and nausea were still there, but somehow, with his presence, they seemed a little more bearable. "Do you need me to bring something?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

You shook your head slightly, feeling the weight of his love and care enveloping you. "Just stay here with me, that's all I need," you whispered.

"Alright, I will just put the curtains in case the migraine hits," he said as he quickly darted through the room to the windows. You watched him with tired eyes, the room dimmed as he drew the curtains, blocking out the harsh light that often worsened your migraines. The soft, muted light that remained was much gentler on your senses. 

San returned to your side, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if he were afraid of causing you any more discomfort. "Scoot over," San said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the bed. He carefully climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you. 

"Thank you for being so patient with me. I really needed you tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. 

San held you a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured softly. San was drawing small circles on your back, your face buried in his chest. Your eyes were heavy, the migraine setting in, and you could feel the pressure building behind your temples. The gentle, rhythmic motion of his hand was soothing, a small comfort amidst the pain and discomfort, allowing you to relax slightly despite the throbbing in your head. 

Just as you began to drift off to sleep, your body started trembling uncontrollably. The sudden tremors jarred you awake, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. San immediately noticed, his grip tightening around you in a protective embrace. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered, his voice steady and calming. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe your body. "Just breathe, love. I'm right here with you." You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his presence, trying to steady your breath. The trembling slowly began to subside, and you clung to San, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. "Are you feeling dizzy again? Like the last time?" San asked, his voice tinged with concern. 

You nodded weakly, the dizziness making it hard to focus on anything. "Yeah, it's just... everything is spinning," you managed to whisper, clutching onto him. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as San's presence provided a comforting anchor. The room seemed to tilt and spin, but his calming voice and gentle touch helped you stay grounded. "I'm sorry, San," you murmured, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. 

San shook his head, his expression filled with love and reassurance. "Don't apologize, my love. You can't control this, and I'm here to help you through it," he murmured softly. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination and love. "Just rest," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here with you." You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. San's hand continued to trace soothing patterns on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace. 

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you could feel San's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a rhythm that grounded you. Hours passed in a blur of half-conscious moments and deep, dreamless sleep. Every time you stirred, San was there, his presence a steady source of comfort and love. You could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head. He held you through the worst of it, never once leaving your side. 

When you finally woke, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb, and the nausea had receded enough for you to sit up slightly. San was still there, his eyes filled with concern and relief as he saw you stir. 

"Hey," he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you with concern. "How are you feeling?" 

You took a deep breath, assessing your condition and trying to gather your thoughts. "A bit better," you admitted, your voice still weak but more stable than before. The remnants of fatigue lingered, but you felt a small spark of improvement. 

"I'm glad to hear that," San replied, his smile growing a bit wider with relief. "Do you think you can eat something light? Maybe some broth or a bit of toast?" 

You nodded slowly, appreciating his care and the gentle way he always seemed to know what you needed. "I think I could try," you said, feeling a bit more hopeful at the thought of eating something. 

"Alright, let me order something, hm?" San said, giving you a reassuring smile as he gently helped you sit up against the pillows, adjusting them to make sure you were comfortable. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unending support and the way he always put your well-being first. 

San smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "Anything for you, my love," he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his touch gentle and comforting. As he reached for his phone to place the order, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and love for having someone like San by your side, through thick and thin. 

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

[angelremnants]

Between Strength & Style l L. Laufeyson

PART THREE.⠀....THE RESTRAINTS TURN TO RUINS.

summary : Loki’s probationary stint with the Avengers takes a surprising turn when Thor insists on dragging him to the team’s fluorescent-lit gym—a place he deems far beneath his dignity. His disdain shifts the moment you stride in with effortless confidence, transforming the mundane gym into your personal runway, commanding the room and worse, directly challenging his ego. Determined not to be overshadowed, Loki initiated a playful competition, vying to outshine you as the gym’s reigning fashionista. Yet, what began as irritation soon evolved into intrigue—and an electric chemistry taking place between you and forcing him to confront not only your undeniable allure but also his own battle for self-control. The only question left was: how many Fridays would pass before one of you finally caves in?

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), eventual romance, resolved sexual tension (finally!), kind of dub-con but also not?, love/hate sex, rough sex, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, shower sex, risky sex, power play, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), implied oral sex (female receiving), creampie, hard dom!Loki/sub!reader, lots of heavy dirty talking, praise/degradation kink, hand gagging, flirting & teasing, emotional conflict, aftercare, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 27.8k

author's notes : My sincere apologies for the tardiness of the upload, uni started back a few days ago and I had, for some reason, quite some difficulty crafting this chapter—which is by far the filthiest smut I've ever written until now and possibly the longest, as I had to make up for the wait. Here is the long-awaited climax (no, really) of this three-shots. I'm pleased to see that this story was so well-received, as it was really written on impulse.

Make sure to read the first two parts if you haven't done it yet, not just for the context but also because the build-up makes it so much more worth it. ;)

(ao3 version)

⠀

Saturday. It ought to have been your haven—a priceless, untouchable day dedicated to rest. A day set aside for relief—a unique, treasured chance to relax, get some much-needed sleep or even enjoy a few blissful hours of inactivity. Maybe you would have gotten the sleep you had been missing all these days due to some godly parasite lingering inside of your head, or you would have spent a few hours of delightful indolence watching your favorite shows in the comfort of your cozy bed. Instead, like a prisoner heading to their execution, you found yourself stumbling toward the gym in the early hours of the following day, each step laden with fear.

And it was all become of him.

One month. It had been thirty maddening days since Loki had chosen to make you the center of his entertainment, enticing you into his intricate little game of battling for the spotlight and disrupting your carefully crafted lifestyle. You hadn't been offered the chance to decline or be offered a volunteer position. In fact, you didn't even know there was a game until he walked into the gym that fateful morning with his trademark arrogant smile, his piercing eyes, and his incredibly sharp tongue that seemed to be designed specifically to rile you up, strutting around like some arrogant peacock and prompting in you the burning sensation of desperately wanting to put him back in his place. It was as if he had come in with the express intent of making you lose your mind, and ever since, he had made it his goal to constantly torture, mock, and irritate you.

You thought you had done a great job of pretending it didn't bother you. It had all been part of your improvised plan to keep some semblance of sanity, brushing off his scathing remarks and acting as though you were unaware of the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long whenever he peered in your direction. However, the reality was that Loki had a strange way of getting under your skin, digging deep, and burning it like no one else ever could, ultimately making you enter many weekly rounds of push and pull and leaving the unforeseen public wanting more in their bets on which of the two would finally crack from their infantile provocations. 

The culmination of it all had been the previous day. You had completely failed to fall asleep, your heart still pounding with adrenaline, and your restless mind replaying over and over your last encounter with him. It was simply another verbal sparring match, a battle of glares and scathing retorts, nothing extraordinary. The shared spark hovering on the verge of burning was the only extra taste. It was enough to set your entire body on fire when he brashly pushed you against the shake bar counter and smiled menacingly, promising to ruin you in the finest way possible. Although it didn't completely rock your world, it certainly did cause your ovaries to tremble, which fueled the restless energy that had persisted in you ever since.

Hours passed slowly and you were still staring at the ceiling, scrutinizing any specks on it while attempting to interpret his final words when the first rays of sunlight came through your window. "When I settle things, I make sure it’s unforgettable." What on Earth had he meant by that? And more significantly, what fresh torment had he in store for you?

The questions flitted through your head like vultures as you dressed, putting on bras sports, a basic tank top and leggings with weak motions and a tired sigh—you didn’t feel the need to go all out for this morning, as you would be practically caged with your sworn attention-hungry enemy. Your body felt slow and fatigued, but your mind was racing at full speed. A part of you wanted to march into that gym and slam his smirk-adorned pretty face against the nearest wall until it was unrecognizable. Another part... well, you didn’t want to think about what the other part of you wanted. 

You pushed the treacherous thoughts away as you finished lacing your sneakers and turned to face the mirror, giving yourself a stern, no-nonsense look. “Get. it. together,” you muttered, insisting on each word that was coming out as much as a plea as it was an order.

Desperate to shake off the grogginess—and the simmering frustration—you bounced on your toes a few times, throwing a few half-hearted shadow punches. Some quick jumps, fists raised and throwing jabs here and there and a sharp exhale. The motion sent a small jolt of energy through your muscles, enough to strengthen your resolve, but it did little to alleviate the knot of apprehension that was tightly wound in your chest.

Whatever the god had planned, you promised yourself you would not let him get the best of you. Not this time, not ever, and not anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked out of your room, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you made your way to the gym. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting long, shifting shadows that added to your sense of foreboding. The closer you got, the heavier each step felt, as if the weight of expectation was dragging you down. 

The gym loomed ahead, having evolved into something more than just a room full of machines. It was a battleground, a crucible. Loki seemed so determined to push you to your limits, testing your patience, strength, and willpower with each encounter. You could not decide which bothered you more: the fear of losing control in his presence or the nagging suspicion that he was purposefully trying to break you to see how far he could go. Upper motives are Loki's specialty, after all. But, on the other hand, was this really just a game for him?

At last, you reached your destination, staying still in front of the entrance. Your fingers curled around the handle, allowing the cool metal to ground you for a moment while you paused, your pulse quickening as a dozen different scenarios raced through your head.

Was this your doom or your solace? And which one did you hope to find today?

You didn’t know. But as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, you braced yourself for whatever Loki had planned for you.

Surprisingly, it was already slightly ajar when you arrived, allowing just a sliver of light to pass through. The first rays of the rising sun spilled in, casting a soft, golden glow across the immaculate gym floor, which had been completely cleared of the chaos left by the Hulk's rampage. The sunbeams pierced through the towering windows, their warm light reaching all corners of the gym and illuminating the grandeur of Manhattan beyond—a city still waking up, its skyline bathed in the soft hues of dawn, almost as if holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

But it was not the breathtaking scenery that halted you in your tracks. 

No. What really drew your attention, leaving you momentarily speechless, was the sight of Loki. There he was, in the middle of it all, surprisingly barefoot. His form stood in stark contrast against the polished surroundings, like a shadow amidst the brilliance. The god of mischief was leaning against the cracked wall, his fingers moving with effortless precision over the remaining damage, the last traces of destruction fading beneath his fingertips. The ground had been thoroughly cleaned up, free of any debris from the mutant's rampage, so you did not have to worry about him injuring himself—not that you would be concerned anyway. 

The air around him buzzed with magical remnants that seemed to belong there, blending in with the repairs he was doing. His posture was lazy and languid, as if he were bored with the task at hand, and repairing a wall was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

It irked you more than you cared to admit.

Despite his outward calm, a familiar knot twisted in your chest—a mix of irritation, resentment, and, for reasons you could not fathom, bubbling excitement. The same sensation that seemed to arise whenever Loki was nearby—a dangerous combination that you were all too familiar with.

And yet, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. It was as if you hadn’t walked in at all.

You stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. There he was, the god who had turned your world upside down, with his back turned to you. You couldn’t decide whether to wait and see if his ever-annoying smirk would appear or if he would look at you with that cold, calculating stare he wore when sent out on missions, which always made your skin prickle.

A moment stretched. Then—

"Late as usual," Loki's voice broke the silence, smooth and taunting as always, his gaze fixed on his work.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Here it is, you bitterly thought as you deeply inhaled, bracing yourself for what was coming next.

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to be impressed?” You retorted, stepping deeper into the room, sarcasm laced throughout your words. “You’re fixing a wall, not saving the world. Do you want me to give you a standing ovation?”

He let out a soft, almost bored sigh and continued to work as if your words did not bother him. "And good morrow to you as well. The first rays appear, and you are already up and taunting me. But I suppose that is part of your appeal, is it not?"

You moved around the room, your gaze scanning the gym. It was still a mess in places, but nothing you could not handle with a little effort—and probably Loki's self-assured arrogance as well. If you weren’t any pettier, you would be surprisingly grateful towards him doing most of the hard job—which is saying something, coming from Loki himself. Perhaps your worries weren’t misplaced, after all—as far as you knew, the god never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. Honestly, I have seen better magic tricks in street performances," you replied, your voice light but your irritation simmering beneath the surface. You focused your attention on the task at hand, preparing for the impending manual labor.

But your treacherous gaze quickly returned to him, still bathed in sunlight as he worked to complete the repairs. The golden light illuminated the muscular expanse of his back, accentuating every ridge and dip with almost agonizing clarity. Each movement was a seamless display of strength and precision, the sinews of his shoulders rolling effortlessly beneath his skin. A faint sheen clung to his torso, highlighting the sharp lines that drew the eye down the length of his spine.

Your eyes then lowered unwantedly, drawn to the way his trousers hugged his figure, especially the firm curve of his ass. The fabric clung in a way that left little to the imagination, draping over him with an almost sculptural elegance. Each subtle shift of his weight made the material stretch and conform, as though emphasizing every detail of his form.

Your cheeks flushed as your imagination deceived you, racing with uncontrollable thoughts of how you wanted to explore that body. You were split between silent adoration and an almost painful need to close the gap between you. The silence weighed down hard, interrupted only by the faint hum of his power. There was an electric tension in the air, thick enough to taste, as if something was going to snap. Perhaps another volley of sharp words—or something more physical.

Loki gradually stepped aside from his work, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips curled into an irritating, all-knowing smirk. “Are you finished inspecting my masterpiece, or do you plan to continue judging my artwork?” he asked, his tone almost playful, yet it carried a challenge beneath it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the pointless instigation. “Oh, I’m sure it’s magnificent, Loki. Just like everything you touch," you sarcastically said, your tone basking in mockery.

His smirk unfortunately only deepened at your retort, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “Do you always arm yourself with such wit before breakfast, or am I to feel especially privileged today?” He teased, his gaze lingering on you for just a little too long, never leaving yours.

It was tempting to fire back, to throw another retort his way, but you forced yourself to bite your tongue. You had a task at hand, and you were damn well going to finish it—no matter how insufferable Loki was being.

With a deep breath, you set aside your irritation. “Fine, let’s just get this over with. "The sooner it is finished, the sooner I can leave your delightful company," you muttered under your breath, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Loki raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall, his lips curled into a lazy smirk as he crossed his arms. “My, such ambition. One might almost think you find my presence unbearable.”

You did not grace him with the privilege of an answer, instead reaching for a nearby broom and beginning to sweep up the last of the debris. Each step you took felt heavier than the previous one as you mentally prepared for the physical labor ahead. Whether it was the oppressive atmosphere or Loki's unyielding presence, you could not help but sense the tension building, hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

The only thing you were certain of?

Today was going to be longer than you anticipated.

After a while, you took a purposeful stride behind the bar, the motion almost automatic, deciding that a shake was exactly what you needed to boost your energy and, more importantly, to prepare yourself for the mental endurance you were sure this morning would require. The frustration from the previous few moments persisted beneath the surface, like an ember that refused to die. You forced yourself to concentrate on the simple task at hand: preparing your beverage. After all, getting through the rest of the day would require all of your strength and endurance, especially with the man in the background.

As you reached for the blender, his voice rang out behind you while he was seemingly approaching you, slow and taunting, as if he had all the time in the world. "I have already repaired the marble, you know. The only thing left to do is put the glasses away and clean the countertops. But, of course, you would rather stand there and make yourself a drink, would you not?"

You didn’t turn to face him, focusing instead on measuring the ingredients for your shake, with your back to him as you gathered your supplies. "I am making myself something to drink because I have not eaten yet," you answered with a clipped tone, revealing your growing irritation. “And trust me, I’m going to need it if I’m going to survive being in the same room as you.”

You could almost hear the smirk curling on his lips. He moved closer and titled his head over your shoulder, his voice dropping to a timbre of contempt. “A shake? How… pedestrian.” You sensed his obvious presence behind you, like a shadow too near for comfort. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what you really need.” 

His breath tickled the back of your neck as he leaned in, and his words sounded almost sensual. Your pulse quickened at the implication, and a flash of annoyance coursed through you. You couldn’t let him get under your skin—not this early at least. Taking a steadying breath, you returned your attention to the blender, attempting to ignore Loki's magnetic pull and the way he appeared to consume the space around him.

Then, just as you were about to finish blending your shake, Loki's voice dropped once more, this time with a sly, dangerous edge. “Do you think that shake will be enough to cool you off? Or would you rather I provide a more... appropriate remedy?”

Never mind him not getting under your skin—that pushed your patience over the edge.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the nearest glass of water, spun on your heel, and splashed it directly into his face. “How’s that for cooling off?” You returned with a strained smile, your words as sharp as your gaze, your chest rising and falling with the rage you could not control. You immediately spun away, determined to leave before your temper flared.

There was a brief period of silence. Loki stood perfectly still, his eyes closed since receiving the impromptu attack. He inhaled deeply as the magic around him crackled like a storm on the horizon, his irritation settled in the air, thick and heavy, like a warning. He slowly wiped the water off his face, his lips curling into that same infuriatingly composed smirk that made your blood boil.

"Fine," he finally said, his voice strained with barely contained irritation, though his smirk remained intact. “If this is the game you wish to play, so be it.”

He slowly peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, taking you completely by surprise. The sight of his sculpted, damp chest was enough to send shivers up your spine. He did not seem to notice—or care, for that matter. Your stomach churned, and you immediately regretted throwing the water, especially since your gaze was drawn involuntarily to the muscle lines that rippled across his abdomen. Fuck. This wasn’t helping.

You could feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you quickly pushed the warmth away. You did not have time to get sucked into whatever game Loki was playing. If you wanted to get through today, you had to keep your cool.

"Whatever," you mumbled to yourself, taking a long, leisurely drink of your shake, as if it could somehow relieve the tension between you. The cool beverage flowed down your throat, yet the room was hot, the air thick with unspoken murmurs. It was going to be a long day. A very long day.

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For an extended period, the two of you moved silently. It was as if you were in sync without saying anything, each of you was quietly immersed in your allotted job. You remained firmly rooted in your corner, concentrating solely on your task as a weird, even unsettling rhythm emerged between the two of you. The room, which had once been a chaotic mess after the Hulk's destruction, now appeared unsettlingly calm. You found yourself wishing for your headphones, something to drown out the oppressive silence, help you focus, and speed up the process. But with Loki there, you couldn't afford such a luxury—his mere existence made it impossible to escape into that peaceful seclusion.

The heavy sense of imminent peril lingered around you, like a weight suspended just above the earth, ready to fall. Loki, the deity of mischief and master of deception, has never been so silent before. His customary snark and demand for attention were strangely gone, and it was disturbing. It felt like a physical force weighing down on the room, choking you with its severity. He wasn't moving or looking at you, but you could sense him. His presence appeared to penetrate beneath your skin, a persistent, stifling awareness that hung over you like a shadow that refused to go away.

Even more unsettling was the fact that, despite all that had transpired, he wasn’t even looking directly at you—yet you were certain, without question, that his eyes were fixed on you and penetrating through the back of your head, even if they were out of sight. This unseen stare appeared to track your every action, causing your skin to tingle with a heightened sense of awareness, akin to a faint pressure that made it difficult to draw a breath.

Unavoidably, you found yourself matching his phantom gaze. Your vigilant eyes remained fixed on him, not merely out of wariness but also because you were unable to resist. It was unsettling how your mind wandered toward him in fundamentally inappropriate ways, particularly to his chest. That aggravating chest. Each time he shifted, it appeared to ripple, and you couldn’t pull your gaze away from the sleek, sculpted muscles that moved with effortless elegance. The arrogance that seemed to seep from him only exacerbated the situation, as he exuded an air of perfection, fully aware of the impact he had on you. And that drove you completely mad.

You despised the fact that you couldn't settle on a single opinion of him. A part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Maybe even grope him to see how he reacts. Another, darker part of you wanted to lean in and lick, kiss, and feel the smoothness of his chest against your lips. Every part of you ached with the urge to claim him in some manner. But then you'd remember your current situation, the tension in the air, and the ridiculousness of it all. You couldn't let it. You could not allow those ideas to dominate you again.

It was nice that you had superhuman strength. Without it, you weren't sure how you'd get through moments like this—when your mind would wander into dangerous terrain, your body would betray you with a deep, frustrated need, and you'd most likely let a dumbbell drop from your fingers and land on your foot. Your strength kept you anchored, but it didn't alleviate the strain that coiled within you like a live wire, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.

And, worst of all, you were furious. Furious with him for just existing and being so mesmerizing. Furious with the way he handled himself, the arrogance that radiated off him, and, damn it, his body. You were upset with yourself for allowing him to get under your skin and for the way he put your insides on fire. But, more than anything, you were enraged by how easily he had entangled your thoughts in his clutches, without ever lifting a finger. It was as if he didn't even have to try to get inside your thoughts, and yet here you were—lost in a maelstrom of frustration and need, entangled in the web he had spun around you with effortless grace.

You moved through your set, the rhythmic clang of metal filling the otherwise quiet room, breaking the stillness with every shift of the dumbbells. Each time you bent to pick one up, the sound reverberated in the large, nearly empty space. You made sure to place each weight back precisely where it belonged, your movements deliberate and controlled, your focus unwavering, even as the strain of the workout began to wear on you.

Yet, every time you turned away, something peculiar began to happen. A faint shift, just enough to unsettle your balance. The weights would move, imperceptibly, enough for you to notice but not quite enough to confirm at first. You'd look back, only to discover that one weight had shifted slightly, a minor tweak that seemed to challenge your every action. Initially, you put it on exhaustion, but as the strange happenings continued, your displeasure grew. It felt as if your mind was conspiring against you.

With each shift, your nerves strained, and unease crept up your spine. You couldn't escape the idea that you were losing control, that something—or someone—was interfering with your thoughts. "What the hell..." you muttered under your breath as you hefted another dumbbell into position, the metallic clang too loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Be careful," Loki said from the other side, his voice shrill and mocking. "Or you'll cause more of a ruckus than the green beast did." His words were delivered with that exacerbating air of superiority that made your blood boil even as you tightened your jaw to avoid snapping back. You could clearly feel how much he was loving it.

You gritted your teeth and concentrated on the task at hand, ignoring him as much as you could. "It's not my fault," you murmured back, your voice tinged with displeasure as you kneeled to pick up another weight. You needed to finish. You couldn't allow him to get under your skin, yet again.

Regardless, as you proceeded, the disturbing adjustments in the rack became more regular, with the weights moving gently every time you turned your back. Something was certainly off, and you could no longer pretend otherwise. The unease in the air, the sensation of eyes on you, and the bizarre, inexplicable shifts had all contributed to something more planned than just chance.

At long last, after completing the final set of weights and ensuring that everything was in its proper place, you turned away from the rack, ready to move on to the next part of the gym. You had your back to the rack when you heard the unmistakable crash of weights hitting the ground. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced as you spun around, your eyes narrowing in surprise.

The dumbbells were scattered across the floor. The revelation struck you like a ton of bricks—or dumbbells, in this context.

"Loki," you snarled, the name tumbling out of your mouth before you could control it. You pushed the rack aside, your wrath pouring over as you stormed towards him.

The aforementioned deity stood several feet away, watching you with an aggravating smile on his lips and an incredibly calm posture, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. There was something almost sickeningly pleasant about his apparent enjoyment of the turmoil he had produced, as if he were enjoying every ounce of your frustration. 

You crossed the gap between you without hesitation, taking hurried steps towards him. "What's your fucking problem?" you demanded, your hands curled tightly at your sides and your voice tinged with rage. "This is your doing, isn't it?"

The Asgardian's grin widened further, and he inclined his head slightly in fake inquiry. "Problem?" he repeated, a nasty gleam in his eyes. "I wasn't aware I had one." His comments hung in the air, acting as an open invitation to retaliate. He was testing you, pressing your buttons just for the fun of it.

"You've been messing with me this whole damn time!" You fired back, your rage escalating as your fury boiled over. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"

Loki leaned in slightly, his stare sharp and calculated, with a glimmer of threat in his eyes. "Easily distracted, are we?" he asked, his voice silky and full of challenge. "I thought that perhaps you simply needed something to... redirect your focus."

Every ounce of patience you had was slipping away, and your fury was simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to explode. You took a step closer, your resolve firm, ready to confront him full on and force him to account for his little game. But as you did, your foot got snagged on something—your own, traitorous shoelaces.

"What the—" you exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden loss of control. You lost your footing and stumbled forward, unable to break the momentum. Before you could recover, you collapsed to the floor, your hands just reaching out to catch yourself. As you scrambled to lift yourself up, your gaze fell on the source of your clumsiness: your shoelaces—both of them—tied together in a knot that was too perfect and exact to be an accident. 

Heat flooded your face, a blush of humiliation rising in your chest as you slowly stood, the weight of your embarrassment sinking in. "You... you little shit," you hissed, angry and mortified. You instantly tried to unravel the knot, but your rage just grew.

Loki's laughter rang around the room, a low chuckle that made your blood boil even more. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with almost predatory delight. He wasn't going to help you; it was evident he was enjoying every moment of your annoyance.

"Really?" you snapped, your expression tightening as you stared at him. "Tying my shoelaces? What are you, a child?"

His grin intensified, and his eyes shone with a lethal, mischievous light. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a taunting divulgence. "I thought I might remind you not to forget your place, darling."

The combination of fury and shame pushed you over the limit. "Try me, Loki. Just one more time, and I’ll make you regret it," you threatened, your fists clenched so hard that your knuckles became white, raw rage barely restrained beneath the surface.

Loki raised an eyebrow and smiled unwaveringly. "And what exactly do you plan to do?" he inquired, his tone challenging.

You seethed, torn between the overwhelming desire to strike out and the strange pull he always seemed to have over you. The air between you was heavy with tension, suffocating, and the more you looked at his infuriatingly handsome face, the more you couldn't decide whether to lash out with your fists, pull him in for a kiss, or do both in an explosive clash of vexation and longing.

You deeply inhaled, muttering hopeful prayers for peace and quiet while attempting to calm the maelstrom of emotions forming within you. The soreness persisted beneath your skin, although there was no immediate way to release it. His attention was riveted on you, and the thought of your next move formed in your mind and slowly brought a wicked smile to your lips. You knew just how to make him squirm, and you were confident you could send his mind racing just like yours was.

As you crouched to relace your shoes, you took a moment to fix your shirt. The fabric changed, adapting to your shape with subtle precision—just enough to draw his attention without being obvious. The way the cloth clung to your body felt like a challenge, inviting him to gaze. And you knew he wasn't going to refuse. His eyes, though well guarded, revealed the admiration he could not conceal. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you realized you had the ability to divert him however you wished him to be.

Your fingers worked carefully, lacing the shoes with calculated precision, ensuring that your actions were slow enough to keep him focused. You could feel his stare sharpen and his breath quicken, as if just seeing you was enough to divert his attention. You had him exactly where you wanted him: utterly trapped in a whirlwind of unwelcome cogitation.

Once finished, you stood with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment as you straightened your posture and brushed your shoulders with exaggerated care. You discreetly looked at him from behind your lashes, noticing the lingering heat in his eyes—a flash of doubt, that tiny break in his otherwise immaculate composure that made your approaching win all the sweeter.

And now, it was time to seal it.

With a quick, careful rotation, you spun on your heel, your action graceful and calculated. Your leg sprang out sharply, catching him squarely in the shin. The hit resonated, pushing Loki to stagger back, his beautiful stance breaking for a fleeting instant. His stance failed, and he went on one knee, his sharp inhale revealing his normal calm.

A flicker of disbelief crossed his features, revealing a rare, fleeting breach in his mask of supremacy. His palms braced on the floor as he straightened himself, his movements calm and measured, as if he refused to give you the pleasure of watching him rush.

You stood over him, chin lifted, admiring the unusual sight of Loki humbled low. Your lips formed a cynical smirk as you cocked your head, and your voice sickly sweet with deadly sarcasm. "Aw, look at you," you drawled, every word dripping with arrogance. "You wear that position nicely. Almost as if it's second nature."

His jaw tightened, the glitter in his eyes increasing as your words slithered into his ego and pricked old wounds. You leaned in slightly, your tone becoming softer and more venomous. "It’s almost like that match a few weeks ago… you remember, right? The one where you ended up in the exact same position. Thanks to me." You allowed a beat of stillness and the weight of your words. settling between you like a blade poised to strike.

For a brief instant, you noticed it—that frightening flare of fire beneath his cold, calculating eyes. His lips curled into a smile that did not extend to his eyes—a vicious and knowing twist that sent shivers down your spine. "Smug," he finally uttered, his voice silky yet twisted with tempered rage. "I suppose you're entitled to it for the right reasons."

The faintest emphasis on the final lines struck like a warning, a thread strained tight and about to snap. He straightened effortlessly, rising to his full height with startling ease. You were aware of the purposeful character of his movement, however. Loki didn't just stand there; he reclaimed the area, his presence becoming stronger with each step he took closer.

His gaze was fixed on yours, haughtily looking down as his countenance meticulously honed into that annoying mask of distant enjoyment. But the tension in the air was unmistakable, like an electric charge buzzing between you. "Careful now, darling," he whispered, his voice honeyed but tinged with a dangerous undercurrent. "You might start to believe you’ve truly bested me. A dangerous illusion, don’t you think?”

Your victory faded as his words set in, his mocking tone slithering around you like a serpent. Loki moved closer as you defensively crossed your arms and maintained his molten stare, his motions leisurely and predatory. He was now examining you, his eyes searching your every twitch and breath, as if he were recording this moment for future revenge.

"Victory," he said almost to himself, his smirk broadening when he noticed you tensing at his sudden closeness. "What an ephemeral thing, isn't it? So fragile, so easily reversed." His voice faded into a whisper that permeated the room. "Enjoy it while you can."

The oppressive atmosphere squeezed in, heavy and real. Loki's lack of retaliation was more troubling than any outburst, his quiet intensity serving as a clear reminder of how dangerous he was. He didn't have to lash out to make his presence known; his deliberate silence was far more effective. You attempted to maintain his look, to equal the boiling challenge in his eyes, but it was like staring into the depths of a venomous forest—lush and vibrant, yet steeped in danger, each glance pulling you deeper into its poisonous embrace. The corners of his mouth curved as if to guarantee that this moment would not go unanswered, and without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and marched away, as if nothing had conspired.

The room somehow felt colder without his presence, but the weight of his words hovered over you like a wildfire gradually rising your body. Loki usually never forgets or forgives, and you were confident that he would make sure you remembered this.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to let him get to you. You knew his games. This sudden shift in behavior—this silence—it was just another trick, another part of his elaborate act. But still, something was unsettling about it, something that gnawed at you. 

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to concentrate, your attention returning to the cable station. You moved with experienced ease, your hands painstakingly cleaning the area and your body nearly swaying in time with the task. Before you knew it, a gentle hum slid from your lips, providing a distraction and drowning out the electric tension crackling in the room. Even if it was only for a moment, the sound was relaxing.

But you couldn't shake the impression that Loki was watching again, lurking like a famished hawk and waiting—his eyes fastened on you with a weight that made you feel as if he could see straight through you. Even though you attempted to dismiss it, you knew he wasn't planning to let you go on unscathed. Definitely not.

That theory was proven correct when you found yourself falling once again.

Your foot got hooked on one of the cables that had been left lying around indiscriminately on the floor. Your body lurched forward, unbalanced, and the objects in your hands flew through the air. You gasped, prepared for the inevitable crash, but a strong arm wrapped around your waist and drew you back into a solid chest.

Your breath froze and your chest clenched as you processed the sudden and unexpected contact. You were overpowered by the perfume of mint and something more, which was unmistakably his. You stiffened in his arms, but he held you comfortably, his presence overwhelming and unsettling. The warmth of his chest pressing against your back, his breath soothing against your neck, and the steady rise and fall of his chest served as a painful reminder that he had been, once again, the one to catch you.

As he held you, you couldn't help but notice how well his body fit against yours. The way his frame fit against your back was both shocking and comfortable, as if every muscle and contour were designed to match yours. You could feel the tightness in his body, the hardness of his chest pressing against you, but there was an undeniable ease in the way he embraced you, his touch strangely possessive but comfortable. For a time, you were hesitant to release the hold, your heart speeding with the weird mix of emotions he elicited in you.

You blinked, attempting to get your bearings, your heart pounding in your chest. Every nerve in your body seemed to tingle with his touch, prompting a flood of emotions to flow within you—frustration, rage, and, screw him for this, desire. You tried to concentrate on the chaos beneath your feet, but everything about him—the way his body fitted into yours, the sensation of his arms about you—made it nearly hard to think properly.

Looking down, you noticed a cable wrapped around your foot. Your rage boiled up, your eyes glaring with irritability. But before you could draw a full breath, Loki's voice cut through the air. "Having trouble, darling?" He commented with a smirk on his lips. His taunting tone, combined with the ease with which he unraveled the cable, exacerbated your aggravation.

You clenched your jaw, attempting to keep your bearings as you watched him deftly mend the mess you had created. His arrogance was bothersome, but you couldn't deny that his charm still managed to make you squirm.

"Another tangled mess, I see," he remarked with delight. "I was starting to think we’d finally outgrown these little mishaps." He let the words linger, an amused gleam in his eyes. Then, almost as if he couldn't resist, he continued softly and teasingly, "But I should’ve known better—you do have a knack for falling for me."

The subtle suggestion of the infamous treadmill event sparked a surge of rage in your chest, and the room suddenly became unbearably hot. Your face flushed, heat crawled up your neck, and your hands clenched into fists by your sides. The recollection of that day came forward—sharp, searing, and persistent. It was the same thing: his words and actions distracted you and caused you to lose your footing. And as usual, just as you were about to fall, he came out with his arms wrapped around you, reminding you of your powerlessness.

"Why do you keep doing this?" You fumed, vehemently frustrated. "Every time, you find a new way to mess with me. Is this some sick joke to you?"

Loki's demeanor changed slightly, his smirk still curling at the corners of his lips, but it was colder and tinged with something sinister. His gaze tightened, locking onto yours with such intensity that the air between you felt dense and menacing. "A joke?" he reiterated, his voice falling to a frightening, even poisonous purr. “No, darling. This is not a joke." He took a hesitant stride toward you, the space between you sparking with tension, as if the air itself was charged with an unspoken promise. "It's a reminder that no matter how hard you try, you'll always wind up back here, tied up to me. In this. In us."

His words hung in the air like smoke, heavy and oppressive, with an undertone of insult and something darker—something primal. It caused your blood to rush, a heat swelling in your veins that was both furious and something more—because while he was an asshole in his wording, he was, in a twisted way, correct. He knew exactly how to distort every statement and encounter, convincing you that you were always one step behind before taking you by surprise and knocking you down a peg in hopes of flustering you. And, as usual, you despised how effective it was.

You took a step forward with your hands so clenched that your nails dug into your palms. You were about to lash out, to deliver the punch you had been keeping back for far too long, but something stopped you—something in the way he stood there, his posture so nonchalant, his gaze never leaving yours. He was daring you, challenging you with a look that demanded you make the first move. The air between you hummed with unresolved frustration and suffocating tension. Your breath came in rapid, short bursts as you tried to maintain control.

"What exactly do you want from me?" The words came out rougher than you intended, colored with a barely contained wrath. "What, is it because you can’t stand that I beat you once?"

Loki cocked his head slightly, as if considering your remarks, his eyes narrowing with a mix of interest and amusement. He leaned in just enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I want, darling," he replied softly, his voice becoming a more intimidating whisper. "You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet." His lips twisted into a more troubling smile, one of sullen triumph. "But I'll leave you to figure that out on your own."

The smirk hovered between you like a dark cloud, an unspoken demand requiring you to act or reply. It was maddening—relentless. His presence loomed over you, stifling you, and his arrogance oozed from every word and breath. The weight of his confidence pressed against every nerve you had left, like an invisible hand around your throat.

You gripped your fists tighter, your knuckles turning white, your nails sinking into your palms, as if to steady yourself against the raging tempest within you. But it was useless. The rage, the frustration, the raw emotion—everything swirled in your chest, threatening to burst over, and you knew deep down that no matter how hard you tried to hold it in, you'd eventually lose control.

The frustration that had been building for weeks—no, a straight-up month—had now reached a breaking point. Every insulting remark, arrogant smirk, and sneaky innuendo he'd directed at you had piled up, brick by brick, into an unstable tower of contained wrath. Now that he was staring at you with that uncontrollable mix of merriment and something much darker, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep yourself together.

If looks could kill, Loki would surely be dead by now, buried so far in Dante's Inferno that even the devil himself would be shaking his head in sympathy. Even then, that would not have been enough. No, you would have gone all the way down to the circles of hell and dragged his arrogant ass back to the top just to get the joy of killing him again. And even then, it wouldn't have been enough to quench your fury.

You maintained eye contact despite the fact that your vision was beginning to warp at the borders, with red leaking into your concentration like a warning signal. Your heartbeat was loudly beating in your ears, blotting out everything else, including the slight creak of the gym equipment and the hum of the lights above.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you broke the stillness, your voice low and venomous, quivering with your rage. "You know what I've figured out, Loki?" Your look could have pierced steel, and the words that came out of your mouth were like a dagger drawn in rage. "That you’re nothing more than a twisted, kinky, masochistic little shit who’s desperate for a beating. And I’ll be more than happy to deliver."

The words barely had time to be registered before you charged at him, throwing all logic out the window. Your fist lunged toward him with all of your pent-up rage, aiming directly at his foolishly smug face. You weren't holding back this time—not like the sparring bout or the constant taunting. No, this was different. This was not about training or teasing. This was utterly personal.

This time, Loki was prepared to fight back. He always was, when he was willing to put his mind to it.

With an infuriatingly graceful sidestep, the god avoided your strike with ease, his movements so fluid and deliberate it was as though he was dancing rather than dodging. The sheer elegance of it made your blood boil. Your momentum carried you forward, forcing you to twist awkwardly as you fought to regain your footing. But he didn’t retaliate—not physically at least.

Instead, that low, mocking chuckle of his slid into the air, its rich, velvet tone wrapping around your growing frustration like a vice. “Oh, dear,” he drawled, tilting his head, his smirk cutting like a blade. “Was that meant to hit me? Or were you aiming for the floor? Do clarify—I’d hate to misjudge your prowess.”

The heat in your chest flared dangerously, your jaw tightening as you straightened to face him again. He was playing with you, and worse, it was working. Every carefully chosen word of his burrowed into your head, twisting tighter, feeding the fire inside you.

“Keep running your mouth,” you growled, your voice low, coiled with the promise of violence. “We’ll see how smug you are when I finally smash your teeth off your face.”

His smirk only deepened, the corners of his lips curling with maddening ease. He leaned forward slightly, as though letting you in on a secret, his piercing gaze alight with mock amusement. “Darling,” he purred, the word drenched in condescension. “You wound me. This isn’t smugness—it’s confidence. Surely you can make the distinction.” He paused, letting his eyes flick lazily over you, every movement of his a calculated provocation. “But do continue—it’s delightful to watch you burn yourself alive while trying to best me. Your delicious little outbursts… they’re the highlight of my day.”

That was it. The dam broke.

With a sharp stomp, your foot struck the ground, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. The vibrations rippled through the gym, and the barbell lying nearby quivered before sliding toward you with an almost supernatural pull. Your hand snapped out, catching it mid-slide, your rage fueling the motion as you hurled it at him with all the strength you could muster.

For the briefest moment, Loki’s eyes widened, betraying the slightest flicker of surprise. He merely stepped aside, the barbell flying past him and clattering noisily to the ground. He turned his head to watch it roll, then looked back at you, his smirk firmly intact. If anything, it had grown.

“Temper, temper,” he chided, his voice a silken reprimand that only stoked the fire burning inside you. “Must you always resort to such dramatics? I thought we were past breaking walls after yesterday. Though I must admit, it’s terribly endearing.” He straightened, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve, his expression unbothered save for the glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

His infuriatingly calm demeanor added fuel to the fire blazing within you. You lunged at him without hesitation, your gaze fixed on the one target of his smug, condescending expression. But, as usual, Loki was faster. He avoided you with uncanny accuracy, his motions a dance of seamless escape.

Your momentum propelled you forward, and your foot caught the edge of the mat beneath you. Gravity took over, and your heart lurched as you stumbled. Before you could reach the ground, a pair of powerful hands seized your waist, keeping you steady.

Loki's touch seared against your skin, even through the thin fabric of your tank top, and the proximity jarred your senses. His grip was solid yet oddly soft, as if he hadn't yet decided whether to save you or let you fall. But as he adjusted his grip, something caught—the hem of your tank top, snagged in his fingers.

The sound of tearing fabric cut through the silence like a knife. In an instant, you were on your knees, skidding to a halt on the floor, the cool air brushing against your skin where your tank top had once been. All that remained was your sports bra, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

For a long, weighty moment, the world appeared to come to a halt. You looked down at yourself and then at the ruined strip of fabric hanging from his palm. Heat flooded your face, sending an explosive mix of embarrassment and rage through you. 

Loki stood frozen, his usual poise shaken. His lips parted slightly, and for once, there was no smirk—just wide eyes and something uncharacteristically uncertain flickering across his face.

“I—” he began, his voice oddly hesitant, almost... apologetic. “That wasn’t intentional."

But you weren’t listening. You scrambled to your feet, your cheeks burning as you shoved him hard against the wall. He barely had time to react before his back hit the surface with a dull thud.

"You—!" you spat, your hands gripping his shoulders as you glared up at him. "What the fuck is your problem? Is your ego so fragile that you have to act like a spoiled, overgrown brat just to get my attention?"

His countenance changed in an instant, the flicker of regret in his eyes was replaced with something harsher. His hands raised and gripped your wrists, not to push you away but to keep you there. His emerald gaze locked on yours, the teasing gleam replaced with a smoldering intensity that made your breath catch.

"My ego?" he hissed, his voice low and sharp. "You dare lecture me about ego when you've spent this entire morning pestering me like a petulant child desperate for validation? Tell me, dear, is your righteous fury truly directed at me, or are you simply lashing out because I won’t grovel at your feet like your precious Avengers?"

Your jaw tightened as his words hit their mark, but you refused to flinch. You met his gaze with a venomous glare, your breath faint with fury. "That's fucking rich," you bit out, your voice trembling with anger. "The pot calling the kettle black. You’ve spent the entire month skulking around like a fucking peacock and pushing every button you could find, all because you can’t stand being ignored for one damn second. Newsflash: I am not here to stroke your fragile ego or cater to your every pathetic whim. Grow up, Loki."

"Grow up, you say?" Loki's voice dropped to a silken murmur, laced with derision. "How amusing, coming from someone who stomps around like a resentful little girl when things don’t go her way. If I truly bother you so much, why are you still here, clinging to me with all the conviction of a martyr in a tantrum?"

Your frustration boiled over, and you tried to wrench your wrists free, but his grip held firm. His smile widened—a sharp edge to it now. "Perhaps it’s time we skipped the tiresome little charade of insults," he growled, his voice lower, rougher, and laced with an edge that made your stomach tighten, "and got to something far more... direct."

Before he even had a chance to savor his words, your retaliation was immediate and brutal. You jerked your arm down hard, breaking his grip on your wrist, and swung a quick jab at his smug face. Your punch cut through the air, but he easily sidestepped it, his motions crisper and more precise. His jaw tightened, and the storm in his eyes burned brighter.

You didn't need another invitation. You lunged at him, your attacks faster and more powerful, anger coursing through each hit. But Loki was no longer ducking with ease; he was matching your aggressiveness with equal vigor, his motions swift and unwavering. His attacks were no longer teasing; they were charged, with his full attention on you, and the air between you crackled with a dangerous tension. Each time your fists collided, it felt like a spark was lit, and with each dodge and counter, his frustration intensified. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with a mix of rage and something more primitive. His breathing rate increased, and his poise deteriorated as the struggle progressed.

The struggle began afresh, each of you moving with exactitude and fierceness, demonstrating your resolve to win. The gym became a whirlwind of movement as you traded blows, each swing propelled by your enmity. But Loki was a skilled opponent whose agility and ingenuity made him a frustratingly difficult target.

Your rage rose with each dodge and sneer that crossed his infuriatingly beautiful face. He wasn't just fighting you; he was playing with you, extending the engagement as if it were a game he couldn't lose.

"Stop holding back," he commanded, catching your next strike and bending your arm just enough to make you go closer. His wild and greedy eyes fastened on yours. "Do you think I don't see it? That fire burning inside you? Do you think I don't feel it every damned time I challenge you?"

His remarks threw you off, and that split-second hesitation was all he needed. He yanked your arm, dragging you forward and twisting your body against his. In one seamless action, he reversed your speed and pushed you back onto one of the exercise benches. The breath left your lungs as your back impacted the hard surface, and before you could react, he was on you. 

"Yield," he ordered, his face mere inches from yours.

"No way," you responded harshly, defiance shining in your eyes.

His grip tightened slightly to remind you of his strength, and his sheer size intimidated you. His sneer reappeared, somehow darker and more menacing.

"Stubborn little one," he murmured, his tone deceptively sweet yet full of threat. "Always quick to retaliate and keen to defend your position. Tell me—" He drew in closer, his breath warm on your skin, and his voice dropped to a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. "What are you hoping to prove? That you are my equal—my better? Or are you too proud to admit the truth?"

Your chest heaved with each strained breath, and your heart pounded in your ears. "And what truth is that?" You spat, your voice shaking with rage and something you refused to mention.

He tilted his head, his searing emerald eyes meeting yours. "That you crave this," he remarked gently, his voice a velvet caress. "That you desire conflict and chaos because you enjoy the thrill of it. But more than that..." His smirk broadened, and his attitude became almost predatory. "You don't only want to win. You want me to break you. To force you to submit."

Your heart stuttered, heat rushing to your face as his words cut through your defenses. “You’re delusional,” you snapped, struggling against his hold, though the tension in your body betrayed you.

“Am I?” he countered, his tone maddeningly calm. His grip on your wrists didn’t waver, his strength a reminder of how utterly in control he was. “Tell me, then, why do you fight so hard to deny it? To deny me?”

His words sent a fresh surge of anger through you, and you thrashed against him, desperate to escape the weight of his presence. But he held firm, his body pressing closer until the air between you was charged with unspoken tension.

“I don’t want you in the first place, you idiot,” you lied in a hiss, glaring up at him with all the fire and resolve you could muster.

“And yet, here you are, beneath me, fighting a battle you know you cannot win,” he replied, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “How long will it take for you to realize that resistance only makes it sweeter?”

The crackling energy between you was almost unbearable now, every inch of space charged with frustration, fury, and something far more dangerous. His grip loosened slightly—not enough to free you, but enough to make you aware of the choice he was offering.

“Yield,” he ordered again, his voice low and hypnotic, his gaze burning into yours. “Submit to me, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His face was so close now, the faint scent of him—something clean and sharp, like the forest after rain—invading your senses. His eyes, once gleaming with mischief, searched yours as though he were trying to unravel your very soul. And for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw hesitation flicker across his face, a crack in the unyielding armor he always wore.

"We both know," he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intense. His tone wasn’t mocking this time; it was raw, vulnerable, almost pleading. "That you’re not angry with me—you’re angry with yourself. Because you hate that I get to you like this."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let his words sink in. But the way his gaze roamed over your face, lingering on the flush in your cheeks and the way your lips parted with unsteady breaths—it was too much. Your heart betrayed you, fluttering wildly in your chest as though it were answering an unspoken call.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual bite. It trembled, weak and unconvincing, even to your ears.

Loki’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile. "Don’t I? When I know that feeling all too well." He leaned in ever so slightly, his breath brushing against your skin, igniting a shiver that spread down your spine. His grip on your wrists loosened—not enough to let you go, but enough to let you know he wasn’t trying to hold you there anymore. He was waiting. Watching. And it scared you how much you wanted to close the remaining distance between you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering to his mouth before snapping back up to his eyes. The way he looked at you now—it was almost reverent. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked. That smirk you hated so much was gone, replaced by something fragile, something unspoken that hung heavy in the space between you.

"Don’t do this," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your body was frozen, caught in the gravitational pull of his presence. "Don’t make this something it’s not."

Loki’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression softening even further. His thumb ghosted over the inside of your wrist, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt through you. "And what is this, then?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with something that sounded almost like... fear. "Tell me, so I can stop pretending I don’t feel it too."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs. You opened your mouth to respond, to deny everything another time, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, you stared at him, your chest aching with the weight of everything left unsaid. And in that moment, the world around you faded away—no gym, no walls, no barbell lodged in the plaster. Just the two of you, teetering on the edge of something you wouldn’t name.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and you felt yourself leaning in—just a fraction, just enough to bridge the invisible chasm between you. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the tension pulled taut, every second stretching into an eternity. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as the space between you grew impossibly small.

But just as your lips were about to brush his, reality crashed down around you. You turned your head sharply to the side, breaking the moment before it could shatter you entirely. "No," you said hoarsely, your voice cracking under the strain of everything you were feeling. "Get off me. I’m done with this. You win, congratulations—you’ve embarrassed me enough."

Loki’s hands fell away immediately, his expression flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might let you leave—that he might let this be the end of it. You pushed yourself up, brushing past him as you tried to steady your trembling hands. But before you could make it more than a few steps, his hand shot out, closing around your arm with surprising gentleness.

"No," he said firmly, his voice low and strained. "Not this time."

You turned to scowl at him, ready to lash out—but before you could say anything or even process the action, he drew you closer and pressed his lips to yours. The force of it took your breath away, and your head reeled from his unexpected strike.

It began tentatively, as if he were testing your resilience. His lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that belied the heat seething beneath the surface. But when you didn't back away—when your body tightened but didn't resist—his restraint crumbled. The kiss intensified, primal and unrestrained, an implicit confession of everything he had been keeping hidden.

It was all there—his fury, rage, and ravenous desire—expressed in the way his mouth pushed against yours, engulfing you whole. His hands encircled your face, fingers weaving into your hair with a tenderness that was almost painful, and his lips crushed into yours with bruising force. He kissed you like a starving man, trying to take what he thought was his, and it left you gasping for oxygen.

You clutched to your rage, desperately looking for the reasons why this was wrong—for the endless excuses to push him away. But every time his lips touched yours or his body drew closer, it weakened your barriers. His scent, intoxicating and unmistakably his, surrounded you, and the warmth of his body burned into yours, grounding you in a way that only made the moment feel more inevitable.

When you finally answered, it wasn't with caution or uncertainty, but with all of the fire that had been growing inside you for weeks. Your fingers worked their way into his hair, tangling and pulling with such force that he groaned into your mouth. The sound shot a shockwave through you, sparking something primordial and irrefutable.

All of the emotions you had tried so hard to suppress—frustration, desire, and an excruciating vulnerability—rose to the surface, spilling out in the manner you kissed him back. It wasn't gentle or forgiving. It was a fight of wills, one neither of you appeared willing to lose, and yet, in that moment, surrender had never felt more inevitable.

His lips moved with an exhilarating blend of dominance and desperation, pressing into yours with such force that every inch of your body vibrated. His grip was firm, not unpleasant, but forceful, drawing you in as if he could swallow you whole. You pushed against his chest, desperate to create distance, but your attempts were futile—he was like stone, and you were nothing more than a passing breeze. Each kiss seemed like an expression of authority, as if he were claiming your every thought and breath. Between the crashing of his lips into yours, you managed to half-heartedly say, "You arrogant piece of—"

Whatever sharp retort you had brewing was swallowed by his lips once again crashing against yours, cutting you off with a force that was as maddening as it was intoxicating. His kiss was fervent, urgent, and relentless, like he was determined to strip every shred of defiance from you.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. The mocking lilt of his tone was sharper than the grin you could feel tugging at his mouth, even as his lips pressed against yours with deliberate force. Heat rushed to your face, and you could feel the unmistakable warmth spreading across your cheeks, the betrayal of your body making your embarrassment all the more acute. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours and making your heart pound so loudly you were certain he could feel it through the layers of fabric between you.

The kiss wasn’t tender—it was ferocious, consuming, a raw claim that left no room for subtlety. It made your breath hitch and your stomach flip in a confusing mix of indignation and undeniable, treacherous want. His lips moved against yours with a precision that left you dizzy, and the pressure of his mouth sent sparks of heat racing through your veins.

You shoved at his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your hands burning like a brand as you tried to push him away. Your breath was uneven, catching in your throat as you tried to summon your voice and push past the dizzying haze he had thrown you into. “You think you can just—”

“Take what I want?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice dark and velvety, curling around you like smoke. The deliberate arrogance in his words sent a jolt of anger through you, but it only added to the fire coursing through your body. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours, and the sheer intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

“I thought we already established that I was hedonistic in nature.” His expression was insufferably smug, the smirk on his lips deepening as he noticed the way your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. You hated how flustered you felt under his gaze, how the heat in your cheeks betrayed your composure. 

Your skin burned with the flush of embarrassment and frustration, your nails digging into his chest as you tried to shove him away again. Before you could form a response, his lips claimed yours once more, harder this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that sent a sharp thrill racing down your spine. The heat of his mouth was almost too much, overwhelming in its intensity, and you felt your knees weaken even as you tried to fight against him.

His hands were everywhere—rough, unapologetic, and searing as they roamed up your sides, holding you in place as though daring you to resist him. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and your body betrayed you further with every brush of his fingers. Your heart was hammering in your chest, a wild rhythm that only seemed to match the chaotic pull of his kiss.

“Get off me—” you gasped, your voice trembling as you tried to summon even an ounce of strength to push him away. Your hands pressed against his chest again, your palms tingling from the sheer heat radiating off him.

His response was a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through you, making your face flush even hotter. “Off you?” he repeated mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm and maddening amusement. “Mh, of course.” His lips crashed into yours again, stealing your breath with a ferocity that left you spinning, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against your jaw, leaving a trail of heat across your skin. “But, pet,” he murmured, his voice soft and dangerous. “I can’t help but notice… you haven’t exactly been making much of an effort to stop me.”

The audacity of his words sent another surge of frustration coursing through you, your face burning with a mix of anger and something far more treacherous. “You infuriating—”

“Go on, darling,” he interrupted smoothly, his smirk widening as his hands slid down to grip your hips with maddening confidence. The warmth of his touch seared through the fabric of your clothes, making it impossible to ignore the way your body reacted despite your fury. “Do you know how intoxicating you look when you're like this?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the wave of heat that rushed through you at his words. Your pulse was erratic, every inch of your skin buzzing with the infuriating, magnetic pull of him. “You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice trembling as you glared at him.

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, the teasing intimacy of the gesture making your stomach flutter, “you enjoy every single second of it.”

Your hands fisted into the confines of his naked chest, your cheeks burning hotter as you realized you didn’t have a retort, couldn’t form the words to push him back. But before you could dwell on it, he kissed you again, his mouth moving against yours with a devastating mix of skill and dominance. His tongue swept into your mouth, a bold, possessive motion that left you gasping, your head spinning as every coherent thought scattered like ash.

“Don’t stop now,” he whispered against your lips when you finally managed to pull back, his voice low and intoxicating as his hands traced slow, torturous patterns along your back. “Tell me how much you hate this. Tell me how much you hate me.”

Your breath hitched, the heat in your face now searing as you tried to summon a response. “You—”

“Yes, yes, I’m a bastard, impossible, utterly intolerable,” he concluded, his voice laced with mocking amusement as his lips trailed down the column of your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver racing down your spine, and you hated the way your body leaned into him despite your anger.

“You—”

“Keep going,” he urged, his voice a silken taunt as his hands slid lower, his touch rough and deliberate. “I can take it.”

You hated him. You despised the way his words wrapped around you like a vice, turning your rage into something deeper, more frightening. You loathed the way his hands felt so nice against your flesh and how your body betrayed you by leaning into him when you should've moved away.

But then his lips grabbed yours again, in a slow and devastating manner that you could not resist, and every ounce of rage, every carefully built wall, shattered beneath the wildfire he had started, leaving only the heat and mayhem he sparked within you.

Each kiss was a war, each touch a challenge you couldn't win, and when he eventually pulled back, his lips swollen and his eyes flaming with triumph, you knew with a mix of umbrage and exhilaration that you were utterly undone.

Loki’s hands steadied you instantly, strong and sure, as though he sensed you were teetering on the edge of losing control. His grip tightened at your hips, grounding you with an infuriating ease that only he could manage. His lips ghosted over your ear as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with mock concern.

“Are you quite finished throwing your tantrum, sweet thing?” He purred, his tone both soothing and maddeningly condescending.

Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but the words caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to retort, but the words tangled in your throat. “I—You think—” You stumbled over your indignation, frustration bubbling up as you tried to form a coherent insult. 

You hated how your voice wavered and how the overwhelming sensations he drew out of you made it impossible to sound as sharp as you wanted. “You conceited, pompous bastard,” you finally stammered, the insult tumbling out far less venomous than you’d intended.

He chuckled low and rich, the sound vibrating through you. “Hm,” he mused, tilting his head as though deep in thought. “I thought as much.” That infuriating, shit-eating grin widened, and before you could fire back another insult, his lips descended to your neck, and every coherent thought you had dissolved in an instant. 

His mouth was warm, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss seemed designed to unravel you further, his lips moving with calculated precision as if he were taking his time savoring your reaction.

“Loki, don’t—” You managed to gasp, your hands bracing against his chest, though your push lacked conviction.

“Don’t?” He echoed mockingly, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t what, darling? Don’t mark what’s mine?”

Your breath hitched again, and your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “I’m not—”

“Not what?” he cut in once again, his lips curling into a wicked smile against your neck. “Not mine?” His voice was a silken taunt, each word dragging across your senses as his mouth continued its relentless assault. “I hope you weren’t really planning to utter such lies.”

Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailed down your skin, each one igniting a fire that made it hard to focus on anything but the pleasure he was drawing from you. His teeth grazed your pulse point, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his mouth, and a moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. The sound seemed to encourage him, and he continued his assault, leaving marks that would serve as reminders of his claim on you. 

“Stop it,” you hissed, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Stop?” he repeated, amusement lacing his tone as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he studied the flush in your cheeks and the way your lips parted as you tried to catch your breath. “Tell me you’re not enjoying this far too much to mean that.”

You glared at him, desperate to reclaim even a shred of control, but the smirk tugging at his lips only deepened as he leaned back in, his lips finding the hollow of your throat. He pressed a lingering kiss there, his tongue teasing your skin before his teeth followed, and you couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a low growl that sent another wave of heat coursing through you. With that, he shifted slightly, positioning you perfectly in his lap. The heat between you was undeniable, and as he began to work his fingers beneath your waistband, you realized you were on the precipice of surrender. 

Loki’s fingers slid beneath your waistband, his touch sparking a fire within you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your veins. “Just give in,” he urged, his breath warm against your skin, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, teasing the distance with maddening slowness, never quite allowing the connection you craved. “You know you want to.”

Your pulse quickened, your heart hammering as he shifted you in his lap, guiding you to press against his thigh. The warmth radiating from him was nearly unbearable, and your breath faltered as the intensity of it suffocated you. Without thinking, your body instinctively moved, grinding against him, eliciting a low, almost painful hiss from his lips at the contact.

“Look at you,” he crooned, his voice laced with a dark, sultry edge that made your spine tingle. “So eager, yet so defiant. Why fight it?” His hands seized your hips, his grip unyielding, forcing your movements with a possessive strength that left no room for dissent. “You’re reveling in this far too much to deny it.”

Your gaze seethed with defiance, your mind struggling to maintain its composure beneath the weight of the pleasure clouding your senses. “I’m not—”

“Not begging for more? Because it certainly feels like you are.” With a sudden, deliberate motion, he pressed you harder against his thigh, the friction pushing you nearer the edge, sending a flood of pleasure crashing through you like an unstoppable wave. Heat gathered in your core, and you fought to suppress the moan building in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lip. But your resolve was weak, crumbling with every movement as you ground down again, feeling the unmistakable bulge beneath you.

“See?” he whispered, his voice thick with raw lust. “You can’t resist.” His eyes, darkened with hunger, bore into yours, and his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Admit it. You’re mine.”

“Fuck you,” you managed to rasp through the haze of desire clouding your thoughts, your nails digging into the taut, bare skin of his shoulders in search of something to hold onto.

A cruel laugh rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin with an almost brutal tenderness. The sharp sting of his bite left a mark, a claim that would undoubtedly linger. “In an instant, darling,” he promised against your pulse, his voice thick with wicked amusement.

With a swift motion, he reached for your sports bra, expertly unclasping it and tossing it aside as if it were inconsequential. “Now, let’s see if you can behave,” he murmured, his gaze ravenously consuming you as his hands roamed freely over your exposed skin, igniting every nerve ending in their wake.

“Loki!” You gasped, feeling both exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by his unyielding attention.

“Such a beautiful sight,” he breathed, his fingers trailing down your sides, teasingly slow. “You should be thanking me for this opportunity.”

As he urged you to grind harder against his thigh, the tension coiled tighter within you, like a spring ready to snap. His lips found your breasts, leaving a trail of bite marks as he savored every inch of you. “You’re going to be my good girl, aren’t you? Just let go,” he coaxed, his voice smooth like silk yet laced with a commanding undertone.

The pleasure began to overtake you, and with each movement, your anger ebbed away, replaced by an intoxicating mix of desire and frustration. You wanted to resist, to reclaim your defiance, but it slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

You bit back another retort, but it faltered on your lips as he pushed you closer to the precipice, the sweet friction against his thigh sending you spiraling. “Come on, darling, let me hear you admit it,” he urged, his fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him as you lost yourself in the rhythm.

With every grinding motion, he intensified the sensations coursing through you, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s it. Just like that,” he whispered, his tone both sultry and commanding. “Feel how much you crave this.”

As the lingering tremors of your release slowly began to fade, your body quivered, the aftershocks of the overwhelming pleasure still coursing through you. Each tremble seemed to ignite a spark deep within, the reverberations of desire echoing in every inch of your skin. Your mind, once sharp and defiant, now felt hazy and disoriented, like a fog had settled over your thoughts. Every breath you drew was a laborious effort, slow and uneven, as though each inhale was a battle. The fortress you’d painstakingly constructed around yourself had crumbled, completely undone by the weight of your surrender.

Loki observed it all, his gaze darkening with satisfaction, an almost predatory pleasure gleaming in his eyes. His lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk as he took in the slow unraveling of your resistance. He hummed a low, approving sound, the vibrations of it reverberating through the space between you, sending a ripple of shivers across your skin. “There it is,” he whispered, his voice a velvety murmur that held a trace of something far more tender. “So well done, pet. You come so beautifully. Let it wash over you... Feel it.”

The world outside seemed to blur, the edges of reality dissolving until only he remained, his presence enveloping you like an inescapable fog. You struggled to regain your breath, your body still quivering in the aftermath, and as the final whispers of pleasure ebbed away, your thoughts slowly began to clear. And in that clarity, only one question emerged from the haze.

“Why?” The word left your lips before you could stop it, fragile and uncertain, hanging in the air between you like a whisper in the dark. “Why did you do all of this?” Confusion twisted through you as you sought to understand his motives—why he’d driven you to this point, leaving you trembling, vulnerable, and exposed.

Loki's gaze softened, and his intensity subsided for a moment. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your skin as he looked down at you, the play of light in his eyes reflecting a dangerous, intoxicating satisfaction. His smile was slow and deliberate, curling at the corners of his mouth with a satisfaction that alluded to something much darker. "Why?" he asked with a gentle pretense, his voice like smooth honey, taunting but also laced with something more. “Is it really so difficult to grasp?”

His brow quirked, a glint of devilish amusement flashing in his eyes as his fingers traced slow, possessive patterns across your skin, his touch leaving a trail of warmth behind. The way you shuddered at his touch seemed to delight him, as if your vulnerability were a prize only he could claim. “It’s because I don’t share,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker tone, thick with possessiveness. “I can’t stand the thought of others looking at you... wanting you. You’re mine, darling. Only mine.”

He moved beneath you, his hands tightening around your hips with a possessive force that sent shivers of submission through you. He drew you closer, his body hard and unyielding against yours, as if he were marking you in the most intimate way possible. His face loomed over you, his eyes penetrating, dark and intense, as if reading your soul. “I can’t bear the thought of anyone else touching you... of anyone else claiming what belongs to me.” His lips brushed against your temple in a soft, lingering kiss, and the words that followed were barely a whisper but full of danger. 

“And if you must know, I would do it again a thousand times over, just to see that look on your face.” His hands, firm and unwavering, held you as though you were a precious treasure, a fragile thing meant only for him. In that moment, his words sank deep within you, causing your heart to race again, each beat a reminder of his power over you. Loki was claiming more than just your body—he was claiming every aspect of you, from your desires to your thoughts, your very essence. He was claiming your soul, and with each passing second, you realized there was nowhere else you wanted to be than in his arms, surrounded by the intoxicating pull of his dominance.

He leaned in, his breath grazing your ear, the intimacy too intense, too overwhelming. “You’ve been quite the handful, haven’t you?” His voice was silky, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, a calm before the storm. “Your defiance, your little acts of rebellion… amusing, certainly. But now, I think you’ve earned yourself a well-deserved punishment.”

You felt a tremor come over you as you heard the words, but you refused to cower. Your heart rate quickened, and the fire in your chest flared, anger combining with the heat of the moment. “That wall you carelessly dented?” His voice dropped low, dangerously calm. “I’ve already fixed it. I don't care to repeat myself, so I think I’ll find another way to make you see the error of your ways.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against you while Loki's grip on you tightened, and you felt him lower your leggings, removing your underwear and setting them aside. The cool air in the room brushed against your exposed skin, causing you to shiver as much as his fingers did, trailing softly along your inner thighs, teasing you. Then, with maddening slowness, his fingers found their mark, and he began to stroke your clit in a steady rhythm. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp at the contact.

"Wait, Loki, I’m—” you began, your voice shaking but steady, trying to fight the way his touch made your body respond. You tried to pull away, but it was too late—his hold was firm, guiding you exactly where he wanted you.

“Sensitive?” he interjected, his chuckle dark and mocking. “I know, darling. That’s the point. You’ve always liked to test your limits, haven’t you? Pushing yourself at that absurd sanctuary of yours.” His eyes gleamed dangerously. “Well, now I’ll test your endurance, and see how well you fare.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck at his words, your heart thumping harder in your chest. Despite the vulnerability creeping over you, a flash of irritation flickered within you, and you lifted your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a flicker of defiance. “I’m not some… toy for you to play with,” you snapped, though your breath was shaky, betraying your body’s response to him.

Loki’s eyes darkened with something much more possessive, almost predatory. “Of course not, you’re my pet,” he purred, his fingers still relentless, pressing you deeper into him. “You’re mine to test, to push, to bend to my will.”

His fingers continued to move with slow precision, each touch deliberate, sending waves of heat through your overstimulated skin. You bit down on your lip, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths, your hands curling against his shoulders, trying to find some control. You lowered your head in frustration, your forehead resting against the marks you had left on his skin earlier. His fingers never stopped, each motion calculated and designed to remind you of just who had control here.

With every touch, you could feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, your body responding involuntarily to his skillful touch. It was as if he knew exactly how to push your buttons and how to manipulate your body to his will. And despite yourself, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, your body begging for more.

Loki's laughter was low and dark, full of satisfaction. "That's it," he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Let go. Give in to the sensation. You know you want to."

You wanted to resist, to fight against him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Your body was betraying you, responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need.

"Loki, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't know what you were asking for, but you knew you needed something.

His fingers stilled, the sudden absence a stark contrast to the overwhelming sensations that had just been coursing through you. The heat that had been building within you seemed to retract, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips—a sound that surprised even you. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, unconsciously seeking to bring back the exquisite torture, the delicious torment he had so skillfully inflicted.

"Loki," you insistantly repeated in a whine, the word now a plea laced with a desperation you hadn't intended to reveal. You lifted your head, eyes wide and pleading, searching his dark gaze for understanding, though you knew, deep down, he understood far more than you ever wanted him to.

His expression was unreadable, a mask of cool amusement playing on his lips. "Please what, darling?" he purred, his voice a silken whisper that both enticed and unnerved. He tilted his head, a challenge in his eyes. "Beg me for what you want."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and potent. You knew what he wanted. He wanted you to break, to crumble beneath his touch, to admit the weakness he so clearly enjoyed. It was a game he reveled in, and you were caught firmly in his web. You had been prepared for punishment, for a battle of wills, but the exquisite pleasure, the sheer intensity of what he had been doing, had left you utterly vulnerable.

Your hesitation was palpable, your dignity clashing with the urgent demands of your body. Each breath came in ragged gasps, and the lack of his touch felt almost unbearable. He observed you with a gleam of victory in his eyes, a silent victor savoring his moment.

"You are supposed to be punished, pet," he finally spoke, his voice a low, menacing rumble. His gaze swept over you, pausing at the blush on your cheeks, the rapid ascent and descent of your chest, and the instinctive shift of your hips toward him. "Moments ago, you were so responsive, so eager. You exposed your vulnerability so swiftly."

He chuckled, his mirth evident. "If you want more, show me just how much you crave it," he commanded, his tone authoritative. "Ride my fingers, sweet thing. Prove how resilient you truly are."

For a moment, you wavered, uncertain of your next move. But your body’s yearning overpowered your doubt, and you began to move your hips against his fingers, pressing down to find the friction and sensation you yearned for. You lifted and lowered your hips, gasping as his firm digits slipped inside you. The wetness and readiness made the slight stretch both intense and delightful. Feeling more confident, you moved your hips in a rolling motion, taking him deeper.

Loki’s smile widened as he watched, his eyes darkening with desire at the sight of you riding his fingers. "That’s it, pet," he encouraged, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "Just like that. Show me how much you yearn for this."

After weeks of being teased, taunted, and pushed to the brink of madness, you felt yourself finally surrendering, utterly lost in the pleasure. It was as if every nerve in your body had been strung tight, coiled with need and frustration, until now, when Loki’s touch unraveled you completely. Your thoughts, once sharp and defiant, were reduced to a foggy haze as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, each one more overwhelming than the last. The build-up, the anticipation—it was all worth it. Every tormenting moment led to this, and now, with him, there was nothing but release. Your body responded to him instinctively, desperate for more, drowning in a sea of bliss that left no room for resistance. You were lost to it, to him, to the intoxicating pleasure that had been so cruelly withheld for so long.

You moaned, your movements becoming more frantic as his provocative words filled your ears. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he groaned, his fingers curling inside you. "I bet you’re imagining this is my cock, stretching you open, filling you so perfectly."

The vivid imagery his words painted sent a surge of heat to your core, and you cried out, your inner muscles tightening around his fingers. "Mmh, yes," you babbled, "M’gonna kill you—oh, Loki—want you to take me."

"Oh, I will take you, indeed," he growled, his fingers thrusting more forcefully. "I’ll take you so hard you’ll forget your name. But first, you’re going to come all over my fingers, just like the eager little thing you are. Drench them, show me how sorry you are."

The combination of his words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers pushed you to the brink. You came with a silent scream, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Loki continued to move through your orgasm, prolonging the ecstasy until you collapsed against his chest, utterly spent. The intensity left you feeling weightless, as if you were floating on a euphoric cloud. Your mind was blissfully empty, thoughts hazy and disjointed. All you could focus on was the pleasing buzz coursing through your veins, the residual heat between your thighs, and Loki's strong arms wrapped around you.For a few moments, there was only the sound of your slowing heartbeats and Loki's slightly elevated breathing as he held you close.

His fingers stirred within your sensitive folds, and you jolted at the sudden stimulation, a whimper escaping your lips. "Too much, too much," you protested weakly, but it was a token objection at best. Your body felt electrified, every nerve-ending raw and overwrought.

"Just a little more," Loki soothed, and you keened, moving your hips as much as your sated body would allow. The bench beneath you was rapidly growing damp, and you could feel a fresh surge of arousal building despite your recent release.

"Look at you, still desperate for it," he chuckled darkly, rubbing his thumb against your swollen clit. "Such a greedy little thing. I think you've earned another reward, pet."

His ministrations intensified, and you found yourself climbing towards another peak entirely too soon. "Please, please, fuck," you whined, unsure if you were begging for more or for mercy. The stimulation was almost too intense, pushing you towards the edge again. He worked you expertly, no longer teasing but fully focused on wringing every last drop of pleasure from you.

"So responsive," he commented appreciatively, urging you on with filthy encouragement. Your hips rocked of their own accord, meeting the thrusts of his fingers. "Come for me again. Show me how well you've learned your place."

The coil within you tightened, tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, and you cried out sharply, your inner muscles clenching viciously around Loki's fingers. A gush of liquid heat flooded his hand and soaked through his trousers where you straddled his lap, dripping onto the bench below. The sensation was so intense it bordered on painful, whiting out your vision as you shook and shuddered through it.

Finally, you collapsed against him, utterly spent and dazed. Loki withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth. Maintaining eye contact, he licked them clean of your essence, his gaze smoldering. "Exquisite," he hummed, savoring your taste. "I knew you'd be delectable. Don't think we're done, sweet one. That was merely the beginning."

You could only whimper in response, your body still trembling with aftershocks. You were sure Loki would make good on his promise, bringing you to peak after peak as he had his wicked way with you, until you were a boneless, oversensitive puddle. He'd take you thoroughly, claiming you in every way imaginable, pushing your boundaries and wringing out every last drop of pleasure before finally allowing you a moment's respite.

Loki ran his fingers lightly down your spine, making you shiver and whimper at the hypersensitive touch. "Breathe, sweet girl, breathe," he murmured soothingly. "Let it all go, let yourself feel every aftershock."

⠀

⠀

As the aftermath of your third release rippled through you, you lay sprawled against Loki, still buzzing in the wake of the overwhelming sensations. He, on the other hand, appeared perfectly composed, with the exception of slightly ragged breaths—his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous glint as he watched you recover, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your skin.

"Mind you," he began, his voice low and smooth, the slightest chuckle hinting at the amusement dancing behind his words. "I’ve heard some rather... curious things about the female body. And considering how often you frequent this ridiculous section, I couldn’t help but recall an interesting tidbit I came across not long ago."

You raised an eyebrow, your breathing still unsteady as you managed a tired glance at him, your voice weak but laced with a hint of defiance. "What now?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having on you. "Ah, nothing too extraordinary. Just a small fact about a certain... fluid that the female body produces.” He scooped some of your combined essences from where they trickled down your thigh. He brought his fingers to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he licked them clean with a lingering purr. “Ever heard of it, darling?" 

You narrowed your eyes, the heat of your previous high still lingering in your chest as your mind slowly returned to focus. "What are you getting at, Loki?"

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers began to caress your side, bringing another shiver to your already overstimulated body. "Well," he continued, his voice dark and teasing, "it seems there's a certain substance in that fluid that shares some similarities with... the things you consume at the gym. Creatine, for instance.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise at his insinuation. The exhaustion from your highs didn't quell the stirring of your mind—nor the slight flush creeping up your neck as you caught onto his meaning.

"Are you suggesting..." you started, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Loki chuckled softly, eyes gleaming. "Oh, darling, I merely thought you might like to share a bit of what you regularly consume. Not that I need it, of course." He gave you a teasing look, his lips quirking into that devilish grin. “But I'd gladly go down for a taste any time. All day long if you'd like. Or would you rather I bend you over and show you the depths of my stamina, pretty pet? Take you apart on my cock until you're thoroughly wrecked and dripping with both our spend? Mmh, so many delightful ways to sully you."

He nipped at your earlobe. "So what shall it be, pet? Shall I feast on your pretty cunt or fuck you senseless? Or perhaps..." His hand drifted teasingly between your thighs, collecting more of your slick. He brought the coated fingers to your lips. "Both? Knowing what an insatiable little thing you are, I suspect you want it all."

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the tender remnants of pleasure still humming beneath your skin, making you all the more flustered as the dizziness of Loki’s teasing lingered. Each breath you took felt shallow, almost unsteady, and your body, still too sensitive, seemed to vibrate with a heightened awareness of him. You blinked up at him, your mind reeling, trying to push away the wave of heat that had gathered in your chest. But even as you tried to regain some composure, the words escaped you, weak and unsteady. "You're a heathen," you managed, your voice a breathless rasp, the remnants of his touch still pulsing through you.

Loki’s grin deepened, the corners of his mouth curling with dark satisfaction. His gaze flickered with amusement as he ran his tongue across his lips in a deliberate, almost languid motion. "Perhaps, but isn’t that just the way you like it?" His voice purred in your ear, smooth and velvety, tinged with a teasing edge. His hands began to shift, moving with slow intent, preparing to follow through on his words. But just as he was about to act, something in his expression shifted—a sudden, almost imperceptible change. The playful light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more intense, more focused.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice breathy and thick with confusion as you struggled to make sense of the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Loki abruptly moved with startling speed, his hands gripping you firmly and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your body pressing flush against his, the closeness exacerbating the heat and tension between you. The world around you spun in an instant, and the disorienting sensation of teleportation swept you away. The familiar surroundings vanished, leaving behind the sterile, strangely fragrant air of a men's locker room—fresh towels, wood, and the space's cool, musky scent filling your senses.

"What’s going on?" You gasped, still trying to orient yourself as the confusion clawed at you. Your heart raced in your chest, still fluttering from the previous onslaught of pleasure. 

"You’ll find out soon enough," Loki replied, his voice hardening, no trace of humor left. It was almost as though he were impatient with your questions, his tone clipped and direct.

You scowled at the sudden shift in energy and pushed against his chest with an exasperated huff. "You could have at least warned me!" You grumbled, smacking his chest lightly, but your action only seemed to amuse him further, his lips curling into an unreadable smile. "Where are we?"

Loki’s gaze darkened just a fraction, a subtle glint in his eyes as his mood shifted again. "Careful, darling," he warned with a touch of mockery, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "I wouldn’t want you to lose your balance..."

Before you could respond, the god shifted his weight, his hands loosening just enough to make you tilt precariously. Your body slipped dangerously from his grasp, and a startled squeal tore from your lips as panic surged through you. The disorienting sensation of falling sent your arms flailing instinctively, grasping at nothing in a desperate attempt to stabilize yourself.

Effortlessly, Loki caught you at the last possible moment, his grip tightening with practiced ease. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he steadied you, his lips curling into that signature, maddening smirk. “Come now, pet,” he taunted, and a low chuckle vibrated in his chest as he shifted your position, holding you securely once more. “What’s the matter? I thought you might enjoy a little... thrill.”

The sudden movement had brought a rush of delicious friction, making you shudder and gasp out loud. Loki didn't miss the effect, and his smirk turned downright sinful as he teased, "My, my, what a naughty little pet you are. Barely grazing you and you’re already trembling for me again." 

He ground you down deliberately, his hard length stroking your sensitive spots in the most tempting way. "Three times you've found your pleasure, and yet you're still desperate for more, aren't you? Greedy girl."

His voice was a deep, seductive murmur, the words dripping with sinful promise. You could only moan in response, too lost in sensation to form a coherent reply. All you could focus on was the delicious friction of his body rubbing against your swollen, sensitive flesh with each roll of his hips.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he used his magic to make the remaining clothes vanish, leaving nothing between your bodies. "Much better," he purred approvingly, his heated gaze raking over your naked form.

You couldn't help but blush, suddenly self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. His eyes devoured you, drinking in every dip and curve of your body like a man dying of thirst. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, knowing it would be pointless. Instead, you forced yourself to meet his stare, trying to project a confidence you didn't quite feel.

And as yours moved down his chiseled chest and abs, you noticed your cheeks flushing for entirely different reasons. God, he was perfection incarnate. All lean muscle and smooth skin, his body a testament to his otherworldly heritage. You reached out a tentative hand, trailing your fingers along the defined ridges of his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath at the touch, his muscles clenching under your palm.

"Like what you see, pet?" He caught your chin, tilting your face up to meet his knowing smirk. Slowly, teasingly, he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You're quite the vision yourself. A body made to drive a god mad with lust…"

You hid your burning face into his neck, nuzzling into him and breathing in his intoxicating scent. Unable to resist, you started peppering his throat with open-mouthed kisses, sucking on his pulse point. He groaned, his head falling back in bliss. The sound emitted from him emboldened you, and you began marking him with hickeys, determined to leave your claim on his skin. He shuddered in response, hips rocking into yours with desperate little thrusts. "You're playing with fire," he warned thickly, though he made no move to stop your ministrations.

Your fingers, originally clasped against the firm skin of his trapezius, wound up into the roots of his hair, the strands soft yet strong under your touch. You allowed yourself to revel in the warmth of his presence for a brief moment, noting the subtle tremors that coursed through his relaxing body beneath your gentle ministrations with a wicked thought. Every movement, every shift of your fingers was purposeful, exploring the sensitive area just beneath his hairline, feeling the heat of his skin radiate in response.

But all of a sudden, Loki's entire demeanor changed. His body tensed and he bristled at your touch, as if you had poured cold water on him. He moved again in long and hurried strides, carrying you swiftly toward one of the shower cabinets. The abruptness of his movement startled you, and you let out a small shout in surprise, hands instinctively clutching at him, fingers digging into the solid curve of his sides as you struggled to steady yourself. "What’s it to you?" You asked, your voice thick with confusion and a hint of frustration, before Loki suddenly spun back around, the quickness of his motion almost making your head spin.

He reached for the showerhead, turning it on with a forceful twist. The sudden jet of water splashed over you, drenching you in a cascade of cold droplets. You couldn’t help the startled exclamation that left your lips as the shock of the—now real—cold water hit your skin, and your body instinctively flinched from the unexpected deluge.

You gasped in shock as the icy liquid splashed over you, the cold sensation cutting through you like a blade. “Really, Loki? This is how you choose to handle things now?” You sputtered, your voice thick with irritation. The water clung to your skin, and you barely registered the chill as your exasperation grew. “We haven’t even finished rearranging the gym, and you’re wasting precious time with this nonsense!”

Before you could pronounce another word, Loki's hand shot up, leaving you breathless, and pressed firmly against your mouth. "Hush," he hissed, the command so sharp and forceful it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes, intense and unreadable, narrowed as he gazed at you, the glint of something dangerous flashing in his expression. "We’ve got company."

You bit your lip, unable to tear your gaze away as the water dripped off his skin, each droplet catching the light and glistening like liquid pearls. The way it traced the contours of his body, gliding over every inch, was almost unbearably erotic. It was a sight that made your pulse quicken, the temptation to reach out and touch was almost overwhelming. But as you shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of the trance his presence had placed you in, you couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through you, despite your best efforts to push the thought away.

Your eyes bore into him, brimming with frustration as your words rang out with increasing annoyance. “It’s your fault we’re behind schedule. Your endless antics, your distractions—” You threw your hands up in the air, as if to emphasize your point. “We could have been done by now!”

But Loki, ever the embodiment of calm control, merely leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering as a wicked glint danced in his eyes. The smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips only deepened, like a cat toying with its prey. His amusement was palpable, and it only made your blood boil more. He cut you off once more in your tirade by swiftly moving his hand, gripping your hips with an iron hold and thrusting into you without so much as a warning. 

Your words died on your lips as a startled gasp escaped you, your nails lodging into their previous place in his skin, your body yielding to his intrusion in a burst of pleasure and pain. You were soaked from the precedent orgasms, but it didn’t feel nearly enough to take him comfortably. The stretch of his thick length filling you sent sparks of raw sensation ricocheting through your nerves and a river of whines and curses flowed out of your mouth. 

"Not so defiant now, are we?" He drawled in your ear, his voice a sinful rasp. "Moan for me, sweet thing. Let me hear what a needy little whore you are for me." His hips snapped against yours, driving into you with brutal force. The tile wall scraped your back as he held you in place, each powerful stroke jolting your body. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. 

The conflicting sensations overwhelmed you—his rough treatment, the cold water still splashing over your skin, the depravity of being taken so publicly. Anyone could round that corner and guess you pinned and split open on his cock, helpless. It seemed your thightening also proved to be too much for the Asgardian, considering the lowly grunts emitting from him at each move.

"Gods above, you’re so fucking tight. Always so fussy," he growled, nipping at your throat hard enough to leave a mark. "Complaining and bossing around as if you don't crave this. Admit it."

One hand hastily found temporary refuge against the shower tiles, against which he sharply tackled you, sending you nearly howling before he slid it between your bodies to circle your clit, the touch searing in intensity. Loki pinched the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending jolts through your core. "Tell me how badly you want it. How desperate you are for my cock."

"Fuck you," you spat, but it was breathless, and you bit your lips to retain another moan as your hips started to meet his thrusts. He was relentless, pummeling into your cunt like it was a personal challenge. The wet slap of flesh echoed obscenely in the cabinet, and your nails rivered down the mount of his back at each meeting.

"Filthy mouth. Keep running it, darling, and I’ll give you something far better to do with it. Though I much prefer the sound of you undone beneath me—such a dirty, desperate slut, getting fucked where anyone could see. Say it." He punctuated each of his words with hard and punishing thrusts, successfully pulling out a scream out of you. "Say you're my dirty little cock sleeve. Say it."

Humiliated tears pricked your eyes but you couldn't deny the intense pleasure coiling hot and low in your belly. He played your body like he had mastered it for years, winding you tighter with every roll of his hips and ruthless touch.

"I—ah, fuck, fuck! Loki, Loki—mmh, I..." You babbled, unable to form a proper sentence as you felt your walls repeatedly flutter around him, so close to the edge.

"Are you going to come like the wanton whore you are, pet? Show me what a depraved little fucktoy you are for me." His fingers worked your clit as he mercilessly pounded into your clenching heat.

You were teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation as Loki's unstoppable movements propelled you higher and higher. But just as the tension was about to break, a grating sound pierced the air: a door dragging on the floor as it was pulled open. Loki froze quickly, his sharp inhale the only sound above your ragged gasping. The abrupt halt caused a desperate moan to escape from your lips, your forehead pressing against his as your body trembled from the harsh interruption. His warm breath brushed over your inflamed cheeks, and both of you were frozen in place, chests heaving as the faint echo of the disturbance hung between you like a thick cloud.

Desperation gripped at you, and your hips shifted reflexively, sliding against him in a frantic attempt to pursue the high he had cruelly paused for. But as swiftly as you moved, Loki's solid hands grasped your hips, immobilizing you with relentless force. "Oh, you—" you began, your voice filled with irritation, the insult poised to spill from your lips. But before you could continue, a deep, booming voice resonated across the room, making your blood run cold. Thor. You froze entirely, your wide eyes focusing on Loki's face as his jaw clenched in displeasure. He cocked his head toward the sound, his cheeky grin replaced by a scowl, as if quietly evaluating the risk of being detected.

You pressed your back against the cool, tiled walls of the cramped shower cabinet, the water cascading over you in a rhythmic, steady flow. The silence that enveloped the space felt almost suffocating after the intensity of earlier, the echoes of your heated exchange still lingering in the air. Despite the cold water, your body hummed with unresolved tension, each nerve alive with the memory of the raw desire that had coursed through you moments before. Your gaze narrowed, locking onto Loki, whose expression was far too smug for your liking. His sharp features seemed even more defined in the low, flickering light, an almost predatory gleam dancing in his emerald eyes.

“You’re such a dumbass,” you spat in a harsh whisper, your voice too loud in the confined space, but it felt necessary. “Thor definitely heard us. How could he not? We weren’t exactly quiet!”

Loki's lips curled slightly at the corners, his gaze sharpening as he brought a finger to his mouth in a gesture that screamed mockery. “Silence, darling,” he purred, though there was an underlying tension in his voice, a trace of something darker beneath the usual arrogance. “I’ve cast a spell on you. Every delightful sound you might’ve made is now rendered... inaudible to him. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you shot back, incredulity tinging your whisper as you poked a finger firmly into his chest. “We’re hiding in a damn shower because of your brilliant idea to—”

Before you could finish, a heavy footstep echoed through the empty locker room, the unmistakable sound of a boot scraping against the floor. The noise sliced through the air, halting both of you in your tracks. Loki’s jaw clenched in reaction, and before you could say anything more, he pulled you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist protectively.

“Loki?” Thor’s booming voice echoed through the gym, reverberating off the walls and setting your heart hammering in your chest.

Loki cleared his throat with practiced ease, his voice smooth, a mask of indifference slipping effortlessly into place. “I’m here, brother. Must you bellow like a wounded ox?”

The footsteps grew louder, nearing the cabinet, and you felt your pulse spike, your body coiling with anxiety. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Why are you in here?” Thor’s voice was laced with curiosity, though there was an undercurrent of suspicion. “And... why are you alone?”

Thinking quickly, Loki leaned toward the door, his tone shifting to one of feigned irritation. “Because,” he began smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease, “the company I’ve been forced to endure is entirely... unfit to handle my presence. She’s utterly incapable of composure, and I needed a moment of reprieve.”

Your eyes widened, and without thinking, your hand shot up to slap his arm. The sharp sound of your palm meeting his skin echoed in the confined space, making Loki’s head snap toward you in surprise. His gaze, normally filled with confident mischief, was now heavy with a silent warning.

Thor, hearing only Loki’s part of the conversation, paused, a flicker of concern in his voice. “Brother... are you all right?”

Loki sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face in mock exasperation. “Perfectly fine, Thor. Must you make everything sound so dramatic?”

“Perhaps,” Thor replied, his tone softening with genuine sympathy. “But I can’t help but feel some pity for her, having to endure your antics. It was foolish of you to start this little game, Loki. You knew it wasn’t a good idea.”

The air grew thick and heavy with the weight of Thor’s words, and you bit your lip to suppress a scoff. “He’s got a point,” you whispered under your breath, unable to resist the jab.

Loki’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the irises darkening as he turned his head toward you, his voice now a low growl. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he muttered, the words dripping with frustration and a simmering heat. 

Without warning, he pulled you closer to him, and you gasped at the sudden, almost punishing thrust of his hips. You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips as he controlled the rhythm with possessive intent, mewling at each slow shove made into you. You attempted to move yours again in response, but his hands gripped your hips even tighter, preventing you from properly chasing the sensation.

Loki leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he muttered under his breath, "You're lucky I know magic, darling," his tone laced with an edge of irritation. "I’ve muted the sound of you for the surroundings, but you still need to be quiet so I can maintain some semblance of normalcy here. Honestly, you’re as insolent as ever." His eyes flashed with barely-contained frustration, a sharp contrast to his usual composure, as he gave you a pointed look, warning you to hold your tongue. 

The smile that spread across your face was inevitable. This little concession of his? It only gave you the perfect idea to be even more of a brat. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered just loud enough for him to hear, tightening your vice on him just enough to make him groan. "Maybe I like being a little insolent," you teased, your voice dripping with mischief.

Thor, hearing only Loki’s seemingly pained sound, furrowed his brows in concern. “Are you certain you’re fine? You sound... agitated.”

“Careful. He’s onto you.” The god gave you a warning glare, his lips curling in annoyance, and he was about to retaliate once more to silence you, but Thor's voice boomed again, this time with the wisdom of an older brother.

“Loki,” The blonde began, his tone shifting from concern to a rare, heartfelt sincerity, “I understand why you’re frustrated. But if you wish to court her, there are better ways than to rile her up like this. Annoyance is not an effective courting method, no matter how clever you think yourself for your strategy.”

The tension in the shower cabinet escalated, the air thick with the weight of Thor’s words. Loki’s posture stiffened immediately, his body rigid as he struggled to hide his surprise. You could not keep your mouth from hanging open, your head tilting as you processed what had just been revealed.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed with equal parts of incredulity and amusement.

Thor, completely oblivious to the storm he’d just unleashed, barreled on with the kind of brotherly advice only he could deliver, his voice booming in that way only he could manage. “I thought I made it clear in our previous talk, brother—though, granted, I had to drag it out of you. You’re not exactly being sneaky about it, too. The way you look at her, the way you seem to enjoy making her miserable... everyone sees it. If you just—”

“Thor!” Loki’s voice cracked with a mix of frustration and alarm, the sharp command of his words cutting through the tension like a hot knife.

The silence that followed was thick with disbelief. You blinked up at the raven-haired, your mind reeling as the puzzle pieces finally fit together. A slow, teasing smile spread across your face as realization hit you like a freight train.

“Oh,” you breathed, your voice dripping with amusement. “Oh. So that’s why you’re always so intent on being a pain in my ass.”

Loki’s eyes flashed with a mixture of panic and irritation as he turned to face you, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Don’t,” he warned, his lips curling into a thin, controlled line.

But you couldn’t help yourself. “You’ve got a thing for me,” you teased, your grin widening as you soaked in the rare sight of discomfort on his usually composed face. “All this time, all that effort to drive me insane... You’ve been pining.”

“Enough,” Loki snarled, but the faint flush creeping up his sharp cheekbones betrayed him, the evidence of his secret feelings undeniable.

You pulled back just enough, your heart swelling with quiet triumph as you observed Loki’s reaction. It was finally clear—those confusing, gnawing feelings you’d been battling were, in fact, reciprocated. It wasn’t your mind playing games anymore. Loki didn’t harbor any malicious intent toward you; in reality, he’d been concealing something far deeper, something that only served to heighten your sense of victory. The tension between you wasn’t just a fleeting sensation but something more tangible, and you were savoring every second of it.

With that newfound confidence, you couldn’t resist the temptation to push further, to enjoy the power you now held over him. You leaned in, your lips brushing lightly against his ear, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. “So, tell me, Loki... How does it feel to know that I’ve figured you out?”

Your smirk spread across your face as you watched his flushing slowly deepen at each passing second and crept on his neck, a reaction that only invigorated you in your ministrations. You couldn’t help yourself—your lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, pressing a soft bite to it before pulling away with a gentle tug. His sharp inhale sent a ripple of satisfaction through you, knowing you were pushing him to his limits.

The Asgardian groaned under his breath, clearly frustrated by the way you were toying with him. His hand shot out in an almost frantic motion, wrapping around your wrist in a tight grip, trying to halt your relentless teasing. But you weren’t about to give up that easily.

Just as the tension between the two of you seemed to reach its breaking point, Thor’s booming voice pierced the charged air. “Just admit it, brother,” he bellowed with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “For once, be honest with her. Or at least do something about it.”

Loki's eyes blazed with a storm of annoyance and something much deeper—something he was not ready to divulge. His glance moved briefly from you to his brother, who was waiting outside the cabin, as if looking for an escape. But before he could respond, Thor had turned on his heel and proceeded to walk away, his footsteps thudding in the distance. "By Odin’s beard," Thor said quietly, frustrated. "I should've known you'd be this stubborn."

You couldn't resist the ultimate tease. With a jostling, even predatory grin curving at the corners of your lips, you pushed in closer, your breath warm against his skin. The pause stretched between you two, charged and oppressive, with only the sound of his rapid breath breaking the quiet. It was an intimate game, and you could see he knew it. "You still don't refute it. I win, Loki," you taunted, your words flowing with pleasure. "And to seal it... how about I mark my victory?"

You drew him in, your hands resting on his shoulders as your lips touched the contour of his neck again, pressing them firmly against the warm flesh, taking a slow, purposeful suck, the sensation of his pulse beneath your lips instilling a sense of accomplishment in you. With a fleeting flash of wickedness, your fangs sank into the fragile skin, leaving a mark—a brilliant, scarlet memento of your victory. His sharp, involuntary inhalation was delicious, and the sound just heightened your ecstasy. You could feel the strength flow through you, intoxicated with satisfaction.

The instant the mark was left, you pulled away, watching with relish as Loki’s chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths. His eyes flashed with something sharp—irritation—but beneath it, there was something far deeper, more turbulent. You knew then you had crossed the line, and yet you were far from regretting it.

Before you could draw another breath, Loki's hand sped at you like a flash of lightning. His fingers pressed hard over your lips, suppressing any response before it could occur. "Silence, you nuisance," he rasped, his voice low and filled with barely restrained tension.

Your pulse increased, not from fear but from the palpable rush of adrenaline coursing through you. But before you could gather your thoughts, his other hand moved possessively beneath your thigh and hip, bringing you even closer to him. His hold was startlingly strong—firm and commanding—and his body pressed you into the corner with overpowering ferocity. The heat emanating from him was burning.

You attempted to speak, to resist, but the words died on your lips, muffled beneath his fingers as he kept you silent. His gaze latched on yours with such intensity that it made your chest tighten, the weight of his stare like a storm rising inside his eyes. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his jaw clenched, and the barely contained frustration flowing from him. "I will not tolerate being toyed with, pet." 

His words were clipped and authoritative, his voice razor-sharp, but the fire in his eyes screamed of a very different yearning. His breath came in quick spikes, and despite his pretending poise, the intensity in his stare revealed all. "You cannot tease and tempt, only to leave me wanting. Not anymore."

Cool air kissed your exposed skin and you shivered, torn between the urge to squirm away and arch into his touch. "I want you silent, obedient—just how I like it. You’ll let me have my way, won’t you?" he hushed, his lips brushing your ear. "Mh, yes, you will. I'm going to take what I want from this tight little body, fill you up, and fuck this insolent mouth shut. Perhaps you'll finally learn your place, pet."

He nipped sharply at the shell of your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. His touch left a blaze of heat in its wake and your pulse thundered beneath his lips. Loki's palm cupped your breast, calloused fingers tweaking your nipple and making you effectively scream under his palm, heaving for air.

"Don’t make a sound," he commanded, pinching the sensitive bud. "Or I’ll make sure you regret it."

His hand then slid between your bodies, palming your mound in a possessive and hastened way, making you gasp against his hand. "No need for words, my sweet. I know exactly what you need. So pathetic for me, aren’t you? You love being used, you filthy thing."

He groaned at the visceral grip you exerted on him at his words, hilting himself fully in a deep thrust before slowly pulling back until just the tip remained and slamming in again, resetting into his brutal pace. His thumb hurridly nudged your bud, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves and forcing a choked sound from you. Your back bowed as another powerful moan bubbled up and got caught behind his palm, tears starting to build at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

"Mm, so tight and responsive," Loki purred, moving his fingers steadily. Sweat beaded on his brow from the exertion, hair wild and fanning around him. "Built for my cock and eager to be stuffed full. Gonna fuck you until you can't walk straight and ruin this needy cunt." Loki's fingers dug into your hips harshly enough to bruise as he used the grip to piston in and out of you. His pubic bone ground against your clit with every thrust, stoking the fire building in your core. 

The obscene squelch of your arousal filled the air, punctuated by your muffled cries. Loki set a punishing pace, pulling filthy sounds from your throat as his grip on your thigh tightened, blunt nails biting into your skin, before hauling you down on his length in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, rolling his hips to bury himself even deeper. "Listen to you mewl so sweetly for me. I've created such a perfect cock sleeve."

He plundered your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue dominating yours and swallowing your whimpers. Angling his hips, he hit that spot inside that made you see stars. Seeing you recoil so much at the intense pleasure you were experiencing, he set his pace to an even more merciless one, slamming into you with deep, pounding thrusts. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed lewdly through the space. He drove into you with single-minded focus, each stroke hitting that spot inside that rendered you utterly speechless.

"Take it," he snarled, fingers tangling in your hair to wrench your head back. "Take my cock like an obedient little toy."

His teeth sank into your pulse point, marking you and claiming you. His words, filthy and crass, pushed you higher. Loki's grip on you bordered on bruising as he used your body with single-minded focus. Sweat slicked your skin and his cock throbbed inside you, stretching you wide. The pressure built at the base of your spine, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped.

You came in a squirt and with a broken shout, vision whitening out at the edges as he fucked you through it. Your clenching walls dragged Loki with you, his cock twitching and spilling deep. His rhythm faltered, signaling his impending release. With a throaty moan of your garbled name, he buried himself to the root and painted your insides with thick ropes of seed.

Loki's eyes fluttered shut in bliss but his fingers kept up their sweet torture, wringing out your peak. You clenched around him, whining breathlessly into his palm as ecstasy crashed over the both of you again and again in waves. He collapsed against you, pinning you to the wall with his weight, chest heaving. 

Loki gentled his grip to smooth caresses, soothing the welts on your back and thigh. "There you go," he murmured, nuzzling your throat and planting a flurry of small kisses there. "My good girl. You did so well."

⠀

⠀

The room enveloped you in a cloud of warmth as you gradually regained consciousness, your body heavy and relaxed, draped in the pleasant haze of post-pleasure languor. A gentle weight rested on your chest, the traces of delightful exhaustion hugging you like an embrace. For a long, indulgent moment, everything felt impossibly soft, the lines of reality blurred, and the only thing keeping you in the present was the constant thrum of your pulse, which grounded you in this calm cocoon.

You blinked several times, attempting to dispel the fog that had obscured your vision, but all you saw was a twisted blend of images, like if you had awoken from an enticing dream. The sheets beneath you were pleasantly warm, their comforting heaviness coiled around your limbs, and the familiar aroma of wood, leather, and a distinct, seductive hint of him permeated the air, grounding you in the present.

As your senses gradually sharpened, you felt a gentle caress across your back—his fingers drifting lazily up and down, the motion slow and deliberate. Each stroke of his touch was like a salve, lulling you into deeper relaxation and smoothing away whatever tension had clung to you. It was a calming presence, a reminder of his closeness and concern, an unexpected tenderness that contrasted dramatically with the intensity of what had just occurred between you.

"You're awake," The god's voice shattered the silence, as rich and sweet as it always was, but with an obvious softness. It wasn't his usual mocking tone. His remarks had an almost protective ring to them, and his voice was vulnerable, revealing a part of himself that was rarely seen. "How are you feeling?"

You swallowed, trying to clear your head from the residue of the overwhelming sensations. "A bit... disoriented," you mumbled, your voice scratchy from more than just sleep. You cleared your throat, hoping to dispel the remaining fog in your thoughts. "And fuzzy. But, um, good." Despite the haze on your mind, you managed a little, happy smile, savoring the lingering warmth and contentment that remained in your chest after the tremendous experience.

Loki's low chuckle sent shivers down your spine, a sound that was both soothing and thrilling. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice full of satisfaction and something more. His fingers, warm and steady, moved slowly and soothingly across your skin, sending waves of heat wherever they touched. The way he treated you was almost reverent, in stark contrast to the ferocious, desperate energy that had driven the previous moments. It was as if he was giving you time to recover, giving you a moment of quiet after everything had happened.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, still awash in the softness of the moment. "What about the gym?" you asked, your voice still drowsy from the effects. Your mind was still trying to catch up with the events that had unfolded, unsure of what had happened afterward. Loki’s eyes, though, glimmered with that familiar mischief, but there was no trace of the usual arrogance or playful smugness in his expression. He seemed... softer, less guarded.

"Ah, yes." Loki’s lips curled into a knowing smile, his gaze briefly flicking to the side in that way he had when he was about to reveal something more. "I took care of it. Told the others you weren’t feeling well from the lack of sleep and all that hard work." His fingers slid up your spine with a deliberate slowness, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. "You’re skipping the session for today, love."

The new nickname caught you off guard, warmth flooding your cheeks as a faint blush spread across your face. You let out a faint huff, still enjoying the comfy haze he had left you in. "You really have a way with the others." The remarks were smooth, almost dreamy, as you stared up at him, taken aback by how easily he had maneuvered the situation.

Loki's eyes softened for a minute, and you caught a glimpse of sincerity in his expression—something you rarely saw from him. "What can I say? I'm quite persuasive when I need to be." His voice was light, yet it had an edge to it, a taunting tone that hinted at the mischief he still harbored inside. But behind that, you sensed something more—a gentle compassion that had gradually developed between you two.

You couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected depth of the moment. It was clear now—beneath the arrogance, the teasing, and the endless games, Loki had always been more than the persona he projected. He was letting you see him in a way few others ever did. And for the first time, it felt like you were witnessing a version of Loki that wasn’t built on defense or pride, but one that was simply... normal, almost human if you dared to say.

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you stood in the gentle calm of the room, the weight of your talk settling like a silent storm in the air between you. Your body was utterly at rest, every muscle relaxed and delightfully satisfied, but your mind was starting to catch up with the whirlwind of events. The tension, yearning, pull, and push all returned, along with a gnawing sense that refused to go away. Something deeper, unresolved, began to claw at your thoughts, compelling you to speak.

You broke the silence with a tentative yet forceful tone. "Loki," you started, the words feeling heavier than you expected. "Why did all of this happen? The competition, the mocking, the... push and pull. Why struggle for unwanted attention when you could have just remained normal? Confess like a regular person and save us both the hassle?"

Loki's lips quirked into a half-hearted smirk, yet there was something about it that indicated the inquiry had struck a chord. He leaned back, his stance comfortable yet guarded, his arms crossed in a defensive gesture as he looked at you. His eyes were piercing, but there was a hint of something else behind them. "Ah, the eternal question," he groaned dramatically, his sarcastic tone concealing a hint of discomfort. "Why indeed? At first, I thought you were really irritating. Dreadfully so. I thought—" He paused, letting out an exaggerated sigh and adopting a mockingly dramatic tone. "I figured taking you down a peg or two would be an excellent way to pass the time. You were just too confident for my liking."

Your brow raised, and a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, but your gaze was somehow amused and curious. "So, you just wanted to ruin my self-esteem?" You taunted, but a part of you was beginning to sense something deeper underlying his remarks.

Loki grinned grimly, shaking his head, as if dismissing a stupid idea. "It wasn't about damaging it, more like taming it." His gaze shifted to you with a fascinating sparkle. "Or at least, that's what I told myself at the time." His voice softened, the sarcasm still but now infused with vulnerability, an unexpected honesty that cut through his bravado.

"But then, something changed." He paused, his gaze intensifying as he appeared to ruminate on the change that had occurred. "I started to notice things about you. Small things." His statements were calm and thoughtful. "I got more attentive. And, as you heard, it wasn't long until I fell for you. Despite my better judgment."

You stayed silent for a time, allowing the weight of his confession to settle in. The taunting and antagonizing had not been intended to break you down. It was his method of protecting himself, pushing you away to avoid confronting thoughts he didn't know how to address. Finally, your voice became softer and quieter as the realization settled in like a gentle tide. "So, all of it... was just your way of dealing with feelings you didn't want to admit to?"

Loki's eyes shone with a mix of laughter and something far more sincere than you were used to seeing from him. "I suppose I've never been one to handle my emotions well," he replied, his sarcasm still present but tempered with a reluctant honesty that caught you off guard. "It's so much easier to build a game out of it, right? Poking, probing, and playing with rivalries."

You leaned back against the bed, fingers running a gentle path across his chest, a grin curving on your lips as you took in his words. "I think we've both been playing games, Loki," you quietly said, the truth sinking in in an oddly comforting way. "But maybe... just maybe, we've both gotten a little too good at it."

Loki's hand reached up, stroking a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingertips soft on your skin. He met your stare with an intensity you weren't used to, and for the first time, his comments were free of ridicule and teasing. Simply unvarnished honesty. "Perhaps," he said, his voice faint but steady. "Perhaps, darling, we both need to stop pretending."

As the lingering warmth of the moment enveloped you, your mind began to put things together. You gradually became aware of features that had previously gone unnoticed—the soft sheets underneath you, the familiar aroma of Loki's chamber, the fact that you were no longer in the same spot. Something was wrong, but in the cloud of your bliss, you couldn't pinpoint it until now.

You blinked, furrowing your brow as the truth of your circumstances gradually dawned on you. "Wait a second. Where are we?" you questioned just to get a confirmation, seeming perplexed. It was as if a fog had lifted from your thoughts, and everything seemed a little more... lucid.

Loki's lips twisted into a half-smile, his eyes gleaming with his signature mischief. "We're in my room, darling," he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Isn't it comfortable?"

You looked about, your gaze drawn to the familiar walls, the luxurious bed, and the exquisite details. Then you gazed down at yourself and Loki, both in little more than the aftermath of your desire. Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but exclaim, still in shock, "Our clothes... How did we get here?"

Loki's smile developed into a knowing smirk. "I teleported us, of course," he said with pride in his voice. "I stored our clothes in my dimension pocket to avoid any awkward situations."

The knowledge hit you like a flash of lightning, and before you could stop yourself, you softly slapped his chest, your eyes widening in surprise and delight. "You could've done that from the start?" You lifted an eyebrow, annoyance tinged with laughter. "Instead of risking being caught by the others? Oh my God, you really enjoy the drama, do you?"

Loki's eyes flashed with a familiar playful glimmer as he seized your hand in midair, his grip gentle yet solid. "Now, don't call me in vain. And where's the fun in doing so?" He teased, his voice full of amusement. "I could not resist you, dearest. Watching you squirm and get caught up in our little tryst was far more entertaining."

You removed your hand from his grip, preparing to deliver him another fun slap across the chest. But he was decidedly faster than you expected. He was on top of you in an instant, softly pinning you to the bed. The weight of his body was warm and reassuring, but there was a palpable energy in the air between you. 

Loki's grin faded somewhat, his lips curling up into his distinctive half smile, but his eyes became more intense. He drew in closer, his breath murmuring across your neck, sending thrills down your spine. "You know," he mumbled, his voice falling an octave, tinged with laughter and something deeper. "I do love how you keep me on my toes." He paused, his eyes probing yours with such intensity that the air between you felt thicker and more intimate. For a heartbeat, his expression became serious, as if a ray of weakness burst through the walls he'd carefully placed around himself. "And, as much as I tease..." His lips hovered near your ear, just touching it as he said. "I would not change a single bit of it."

The weight of his words fell on you like a warm blanket, stirring something deep inside. Your chest clenched slightly, not because of discomfort but because you realized this was more than just fun banter. His earnestness hit you harder than you expected, and you struggled to match the vulnerability in his stare. You inhaled deeply and felt your pulse beat steadily under his, your chest rising and falling in time. 

In that short second, the tension between you two shifted, as if all the walls you'd been meticulously erecting came tumbling down in an unsaid acknowledgement. Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a slow, deliberate kiss that was soft and tender—there was no haste, no urgency, only a delicate desire to close the gap between you. Your lips molded against his with unexpected tenderness, and the kiss was languid, as if savoring every fleeting second.

You wrapped your arms around Loki slowly, almost intuitively, dragging him closer until there was no more space between your bodies. The sensation of his chest on yours, combined with the rhythm of your hearts beating together, intensified the moment. Your cheeks heated, and warmth crept throughout your body as the fuzzy, heady sensation of intimacy rushed over you. Every breath you took appeared to match his, slow and steady, as if time itself had slowed only to allow you to enjoy this connection.

His hands glided down your body with careful slowness, caressing your sides before settling on your exposed waist. The touch sent a bolt of heat through you, and you could feel your muscles relax under his palms. The way he touched you was almost reverent, as if he was remembering the feel of your skin and the warmth of your body on his own. His hands, large and solid, held your waist just enough to draw you closer, a quiet encouragement to press further into him.

The kisses that followed were gentle and languid, exchanged with a calm passion. They weren't hasty or desperate; rather, they were an unspoken discussion, a gentle admission of all you hadn't said. Every brush of his lips on yours felt like a promise, each kiss deeper than the last, as if you were both pouring your entire being, every emotion, into that simple, leisurely exchange.

You could feel everything—his warmth, his kindness, the way he held you so tightly, as if he was terrified you might slip away. And as you kissed him, your emotions spilled out without words. Each kiss, each sweet touch, represented a confession, a surrender to what had always existed between you. The world outside appeared to blur and vanish, leaving only the sound of your breathing, the beat of your hearts, and the soft touch of your lips against each other.

It was the kind of kiss that could convey so much without saying anything. Each slow, deliberate movement of your lips conveyed a secret promise, an unspoken statement of everything you had shared and what was to come. The kiss lingered for so long that it seemed like time had stretched and warped around the two of you.

When you eventually pushed away, the space between you seemed impossibly little. Your foreheads rested together, breath mingling, eyes closed as you both cherished the closeness—the quiet realization that you no longer required words to express the feelings that had developed between you. It was a rare moment of calm in the midst of the insanity that had led you here. In that small, personal place, you both simply basked in the silence, far away from the complete chaos of outside. The loud clang of weights, the grunts and shouts echoing from the gym, the gossip and chatter, and the sterile buzz of the fluorescent lights all felt like they now belonged to a different world—a world far removed from the intimate bubble you had found in each other’s presence.

Loki's voice cut through the peaceful silence that had surrounded the two of you, its lighthearted tone still tinged with that mischievous sparkle. "I recall," he began, the words flowing effortlessly as a mischievous smile flickered across his lips, "that I did mention earlier that I was interested in trying creatine, just like you were."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of humor and caution in your eyes. "Oh? And how are you going to test it?” Your comments were laced with playful sarcasm, and your head tilted as you observed him.

Loki's eyes darkened briefly with a hint of something deeper before he leaned in just enough to close the gap between you, his voice lowering into a near whisper, laced with an unmistakable teasing. "Well, my love," he purred, his grin expanding into something both menacing and knowing. "I was considering experiencing it, but in a manner more... tailored to my preferences." His eyes gleamed with wicked pleasure, the sensuous undertone of his voice quickening your pulse, the warmth of his words raising a heat to your cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh, your body quaking slightly at the sound. "You're insatiable," you remarked, rolling your eyes in mock irritation. "At least give me the time to recover. You fucked me to the point of unconsciousness, for God’s sake."

"And for my sake, I need to have you on my tongue and figure out what's so appealing about the substance," he answered snarkily, his voice heavy with intent, low and tempting. "And you, my darling, are the most appealing thing I have ever tasted." His eyes moved over you, maintaining a feverish intensity as he continued. "Believe me when I say that I'm far from the type to turn away from something that keeps pulling me back."

The words wrapped around you like silk, sending shivers through your body and causing your heart to flutter unexpectedly. Without a beat, Loki's grin broadened into something devilishly attractive, and he vanished beneath the blankets. With a dramatic sigh, you fell back into the bed, allowing your head to smash with the pillow as you attempted to conceal the fluttering in your chest. A deep sigh escaped your lips, muffled by the softness of the pillow. "You're ridiculous," you whispered, eyes pressed shut as you tried to cool the heat on your face.

Loki's laughter echoed from beneath the covers, simultaneously reassuring and infuriating, a duality that only he could create. For a minute, you lay motionless, the cadence of his laughter filling the gap between you and the warmth of his voice resting in your consciousness. Despite your displeasure, a sweet, amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you basked in the attention as a whimper escaped you.

⠀

⠀

BONUS:

The following Friday, the Avengers had gathered around the shake counter, the lively hum of chatter filling the air as they nibbled on snacks and leisurely sipped their drinks. It had been a while since they’d all been in one place, and the usual easy camaraderie was in full swing—banter, sarcastic quips, and the occasional jabs exchanged between friends. The familiar energy buzzed around them like static, grounding them in a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos of their lives.

Clint leaned back against the counter, throwing a pretzel stick into his mouth with the kind of casual grace only he could pull off. “Has anyone heard from our favorite power couple lately?” he asked, glancing at Tony with an eyebrow raised. “I mean, seriously, they’ve been off the radar. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. Did they go on some kind of 'relationship retreat’ or something? Maybe they’re on a spa vacation, enjoying massages and arguing over who gets the last cucumber slice for their eyes.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk as she turned toward Steve. “Wait, hold up,” she said, her tone dripping with mock incredulity. “You’re telling me Loki and [Y/N] have gone full stealth mode? What’s the matter? Did they finally have a 'moment’ and decide to go off the grid?”

Bruce, grumbling into his cup, seemed less amused. “I haven’t heard a peep from either of them. Last time they spoke to me, it was one of those ‘personal apologies’ for... well, everything,” he said with a grimace, clearly uncomfortable recalling the exchange. “If they’ve decided to disappear, I can’t say I blame them. That whole thing was... intense.”

Thor, his enthusiasm for shakes unrestrained, paused mid-sip at the mention of Loki. “Ah, well, I did see my brother not too long ago,” he said, his voice rising with the energy of someone sharing a truly remarkable tale. “It was on the day of their punishment. He was showering in the locker room, talking to me, and he mentioned something curious. Something about how Lady [Y/N] couldn’t ‘handle him’ and had ‘fled the scene.’” He paused for dramatic effect. “It was a bit strange, really. He said it with such intensity, like he had just fought a battle... and lost.”

The group fell into a brief silence, all eyes on Thor. “Wait, what?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. “Loki... said what now?”

Thor, scratching his chin as though trying to decode the bizarre conversation, recalled, “Well, he said something about her not being able to ‘keep up’ with him and that she had ‘run away’ after a particularly... frustrating session. Something about how she ‘gave up,’ as if... as if she couldn't handle the storm that is Loki.” Thor frowned, clearly baffled. “He seemed... upset. And, well, I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t frustration, but maybe... regret?”

Tony, ever the expert in reading between the lines, exchanged a look with Sam. “Oh, this is rich,” Tony said, his tone laced with an all-knowing grin. “Sounds to me like we’re talking about a little friendly bet that went way past ‘friendly.’ Reindeer Game’s ego must’ve gotten bruised, and now he’s having a ‘moment.’” He leaned in, glancing at the others with mischief gleaming in his eyes. “I’ll let you all figure out the details, but I have no doubt that this is some kind of... interesting conclusion to a very personal wager.”

Sam’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with the anticipation of what was to come. “Yeah, their little disappearing act? Safe to say, something went down. I’m guessing it got a little more... hands-on than either of them intended.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Wait, wait. We’re seriously going to start speculating about their love life right now? Have you all lost your minds?”

Wanda, who had been silently watching, suddenly leaned in with a devilish grin. “Oh, it’s way too easy not to,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Come on, guys, who do you think won the bet? Who do you think really gave in first?” She glanced between Natasha, Bucky, and Thor, her smile widening. “I’m putting my money on Team [Y/N]. Loki couldn’t handle the heat, and I’m betting he cracked first.”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Team [Y/N], no question. Loki’s pride is a glass house—it didn’t stand a chance. He probably broke first. I mean, come on. He’s Loki.”

Steve shook his head with a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not so sure. I think he’s got more... staying power than we give him credit for. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just snapped under the pressure.” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “Loki’s a lot of things, but he’s not easily outdone.”

Clint smirked. “So we’re all just gonna ignore the fact that this was, what, a long time coming? I mean, did anyone not see this coming?”

Tony leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded the group with a knowing look. “I’m thinking if things went down the way I suspect, the real question is: who’s gonna be the first to fess up and admit they lost?” He raised an eyebrow. “And by the way, if it did go down the way we’re all thinking, I don’t think this was just a one-time thing. You don’t come back for seconds after a loss like that unless something really went down.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed with barely contained amusement. “Yeah, because honestly, if it was just a one-off, they wouldn’t be acting all... mysterious like this. There’s gotta be more to the story, right?”

Thor, ever the literal one, scratched his head, clearly puzzled by the specifics of the conversation. “I still believe my brother was... deeply disturbed by the events. He spoke as if something was very wrong. His words were... peculiar.” Thor furrowed his brow, a genuine concern crossing his face. “Perhaps I misunderstood, but he did seem upset, almost as though he regretted something.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly relishing the chaos around him. “We’ll see, big guy. You might be surprised. Things might not have gone the way you think.”

The gym was a whirlwind of activity, the sound of clanking weights and the occasional grunt reverberating off the walls, creating an atmosphere of focused chaos. In the midst of all this, the group was embroiled in their usual banter about the infamous bet. A debate was unfolding at lightning speed, the team divided and passionate, but then, like a couple of silent, mischievous storms, you and Loki casually entered the fray—synchronized, nonchalant, as though nothing of consequence had occurred moments before.

You and Loki walked into the room in matching gym gear—of course you did. A polished ensemble of sleek black and dark green athletic wear that clung to both of your figures with uncanny precision. His dark cloak, while still evident in the folds of his attire, seemed to blend effortlessly with the modern, athletic aesthetic of your matching outfits. It was almost as if you two had coordinated—though honestly, it felt more like a quiet extension of a bond that had formed through other means, and had yet to be fully explored.

Loki, as effortlessly charming as ever, strolled up to the team with a playful, easy grin plastered on his face. His steps were purposeful, but his confidence was what caught the eye—his hair swept back with practiced grace. He brushed an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder, a picture of casual elegance. “Ah, my favorite, unwanted little band of misfits, all gathered in one place,” he said, his voice oozing with faux warmth and grace.

His eyes flickered toward you, and his smile turned into something more teasing, more dangerous. He stepped closer to your side, never missing a beat. “Forgive me, darling,” he said, reaching out with exaggerated gentleness to kiss your hand. “It’s truly a pleasure to be in such fine company.”

You didn’t flinch as his lips brushed your hand. Instead, you gave him a knowing look, the corners of your lips curling upward as you allowed the kiss. You even gave his fingers a playful squeeze before responding smoothly. “Always a pleasure, my prince,” you said with a tone that was just as cordial, just as cool as his—if not slightly more mischievous.

The team stared at you both, clearly shocked by the fluid, casual nature of it all. Their curiosity was practically radiating, and it didn’t take long for the inevitable question to emerge.

Sam, never one to let something this good slide, leaned forward, his eyebrow raised in that signature way. “Alright, we’ve gotta know—who gave in first?” His voice was laced with amusement, and the grin on his face only deepened as he watched the dynamic between the two of you.

Loki, always one for theatrics, raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, clearly enjoying this. “Ah, you’re eager to know, aren’t you? Well, darling, please, do tell—who was the first to give in?” His voice was light, playful, and oh-so-seductive, but there was something affectionate behind it.

You didn’t hesitate, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you shot him a look. “I mean,” you began, your voice cool but dripping with mischief, “he did kiss me first.”

Loki’s eyes widened, his face twisting in mock horror. He sputtered, looking flustered for a split second. “W-What? You—” He shook his head, clearly not prepared for that revelation. “I was merely being—polite,” he stammered, trying to regain control of the situation, though his voice faltered slightly.

The Avengers burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the unexpected twist. Tony, unable to resist, leaned in with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “Uh-huh, polite? Sure. Polite enough to kiss her on the lips? Interesting choice, big guy.”

Loki’s expression twisted into one of exaggerated disbelief, though he tried to hide his flustered state with a mock-serious tone. “I did not forfeit,” he retorted, arms crossing defensively. “I simply... allowed you the chance to realize you were outmatched. It was a strategic choice.”

The Avengers exchanged glances, clearly struggling to hold back their laughter. “Strategic choice, huh?” Sam snorted, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Come on, dude. Just admit it—you gave in first. Let’s put us all out of our misery.”

Bucky, who had been quietly enjoying the back-and-forth, couldn’t resist. “Team [Y/N] wins,” he said, smirking. “Loki cracked first. Didn’t stand a chance.” He winked at you, clearly proud of how the tables had turned.

Loki, however, wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If we’re going to be completely honest, then yes... you could say I... yielded. In my own way.” He shot you a mischievous smirk before turning back to the group with an exaggerated bow. “But let it be known, she gave in first as well. I merely responded to her... advances.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. “Oh, did I?” you teased, your voice laced with sarcasm. “I must’ve missed that part of the story, Loki.” You winked at him playfully. “But it’s true, we both gave in, and neither of us won the bet.”

The Avengers groaned in unison, clearly exasperated. “Seriously?” Natasha muttered, her voice flat. “You two can’t even make up your minds?”

Clint smirked, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Yeah, you’re both terrible at this. Either you both lost, or you both won. Pick one.”

Thor, confused by all the back-and-forth, raised a hand as if to settle the matter. “This is ridiculous. Why not settle this debate like warriors? A trial of strength or… style in your case, perhaps?” His booming voice carried an earnestness that made everyone pause—until Tony burst out laughing.

“Oh, yeah, because we all want to see them spar or whatever weird Asgardian thing you’re imagining,” Tony quipped, shaking his head. “No thanks, Point Break. Let’s keep it simple: they just need to decide. Right now. No dodging.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, smirking. “You heard the man. You’ve got ten seconds to give us a straight answer, or we’re voting on it ourselves.”

Loki’s expression darkened slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you as though daring you to speak first. “You can’t seriously expect us to entrust the outcome of this bet to these mortals,” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “They’re biased.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a grin. “Biased against you, you mean,” you shot back, earning a round of snickers from the team.

Steve, ever the mediator, held up a hand. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s make this simple: each of you gets one last chance to argue your side. Short and sweet. Then we’re done. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said instantly, giving Loki a smug look. “Let’s hear it, Loki. Defend your honor.”

Loki straightened, smoothing down his shirt with exaggerated elegance. “Very well. If I must. It’s abundantly clear that I—magnanimous as ever—showed remarkable restraint in allowing her to pursue her affections first.” He paused dramatically, his voice smooth and dripping with mock sincerity. “Her insistence on denying this was, frankly, as adorable as it is predictable.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Oh, give me a break. If anyone was pursuing anyone, it was you. You’re the one who couldn’t stop making dramatic entrances and throwing around dirty pickup lines like confetti.”

Sam and Tony let out loud, exaggerated ohs, while Clint pretended to fan himself. “Spicy,” he muttered, grinning.

Natasha, smirking, looked between the two of you. “Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Did either of you actually win this bet, or are we stuck with a stalemate forever?”

Before you could answer, Loki leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “We both know the answer, darling,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But if you insist on denying it, I suppose I can share the victory. For now.”

You arched an eyebrow, your own smile forming as you replied softly, “Fine by me, as long as you don’t mind losing gracefully.”

The group groaned again as you and Loki finally turned back to them, both of you speaking at once.

“It’s a tie.”

Natasha threw up her hands, walking off with a muttered “Unbelievable.” Tony clapped his hands together. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“Not surprising, though,” Sam added, leaning back with a smirk. “I give it two weeks before one of you cracks again and we’re back to this same conversation.”

Loki’s grin was wolfish as he looked at you. “Two weeks? Oh, I give it far less time than that.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your competitive streak sparking back to life. “Careful, Loki. That sounds like the start of another bet.”

Steve, ever the responsible leader, clapped his hands loudly, cutting through the laughter and banter. “Alright, enough messing around. Gym time. Everyone, get to training. Now.”

A collective groan echoed through the gym as the Avengers reluctantly began to disperse. Sam muttered something under his breath about slave drivers, Clint whistled as he grabbed his bow, and Wanda rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Even Thor shrugged and ambled toward the weights, clearly unbothered by the sudden order.

But you and Loki lingered near the entrance, neither of you moving to join the others. His gaze flicked toward you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’re positively ravishing today, darling,” he teased, his voice low and smooth. “Though I’m still waiting for you to admit defeat. Shall I give you another chance?”

You crossed your arms, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your composure. “Not happening, Princess. I think you’ve had enough ego boosts for this month.”

Loki chuckled softly, leaning just a fraction closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Oh, I disagree. Perhaps one more would suffice.” His tone was playful but rich with unspoken promise, his smirk a little too pleased with itself.

Before you could quip back, Tony, halfway across the gym, turned suddenly on his heel and pointed a finger in your direction. “Hey, speaking of the two of you...” His voice carried, immediately drawing everyone’s attention again. “One of the agents made a call the other day. Said they found some liquid on one of the benches after you two ‘fixed’ the gym. Looked like coconut water or something.”

Your face instantly went scarlet, the heat spreading from your cheeks down your neck like wildfire. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Loki, ever composed, beat you to it. With an easy grin, he slid an arm around your waist, his presence both steady and infuriatingly smug. “Ah, yes. That would be mine,” he said smoothly, his voice effortlessly cutting through the tension.

“Simply diluted creatine in water. And the best kind.”

⠀

⠀

ending notes : I actually counted and the smut part, starting from Loki asking if [Y/N] was done with her tantrum to the end, is give or take 9850 words. LMAO

Also, the creatine part is something my ex actually told me to make advances on me. It's a real thing, look it up. :p

⠀

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

angelremnants ©️ 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

⠀

PART ONE.⠀|⠀LAST PART.

[gothsoyl]

┊┊┊⁺ ⁺ DECEMBER CHALLENGE

"Special"

sam carpenter x reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: sam is your new teacher you fell in love with. but you can't confess your feelings, right? so you're starting to send her love letters

warnings: angst

Sam was your literature teacher.

She started working there at the beginning of the year and your class immediately disliked her for being too strict and demanding, in order to get a good grade from her, you had to jump over your head. You constantly heard your friends whispering behind Miss Carpenter's back, calling her a bitch and suggesting to skip her classes.

But you brushed it off, your eyes constantly following Sam as she passed by. She rarely had any semblance of a smile on her face, but still you noticed how, from time to time, her lips trembled in an attempt not to smile at some word of yours.

You felt special and you couldn't contain your delight. You've never been a straight-A student, but in order to please her and to get an approving nod from her, you were ready to stay up all night reading book after book, all the literary critics she mentioned in passing.

Anything to feel at least a drop of her attention.

You exhale softly when you finally finish with another essay she asked for a couple of days ago. Your eyes are red from tiredness, but you just smile weakly. And why are you even trying so hard? For what? Even with all that hard work, you won't have the courage in your life to admit your feelings or take the first step. You're just gonna be her favorite student for the rest of the school.

She's your teacher. And this is Sam Carpenter. She never looked like the kind of person who would respond to her student's feelings.

It was pathetic.

You already want to turn off the lamp above your desk, but you stop. Your hands reach for a stack of blank sheets and you put aside the essay you've been working on for so long.

It's a bad idea and you know it, but your selfish part screams that you have to do something.

You need to vent your accumulated emotions.

***

You start to slip love letters into her bag or on Sam's desk unnoticed, and you feel incredibly ashamed, your cheeks burn every time you do it, but at the same time the excitement begins to grow.

Your fingers tremble nervously and you only dig them deeper into the fabric of your sweater.

If someone did that to you or your friends, you'd call them crazy and go to the police. So what makes you think that it's okay?

But still, a part of you resists, says that you are not a bad person. You're just in love.

You're not bad, are you?

***

“Dear Samantha,

I feel bad when I write this, but I can't resist. I know that maybe you think I'm sick and you feel contempt, but that's not the case. I would like to personally tell you how much I love your hair and how much I want to hug you, it seems to me that even if I lie down on a cold tile, thoughts of you will warm me up...”

“Dear Samantha,

I need you. You're the only thing that keeps me going. I want to look at you forever, I want the image of you to be imprinted on the subcortex of my mind. I want to wake up and see you. I want to fall asleep and see you. I want to live by the image of you...”

“Dear Samantha,

I can't believe you're real. Sometimes it seems to me that I dreamed of you being stoned, so beautiful to the point of indecency. I want to close my eyes and see your image in the pitch darkness...”

“Dear Samantha,

I would like to give you stars, I would bring you lilies of the valley in December – if you would just say the word…”

***

“Stay after class.”

You raise your eyebrows at Sam, then look around the classroom, which is slowly starting to empty.

For some reason, you immediately feel uneasy, but you control yourself. You need to calm down. It's all good. This isn't the first time Sam has asked you to stay after class and you've always looked forward to it – at times like this, she usually relaxed and no longer seemed like the woman the other students hated.

And, of course, you felt special when she allowed herself to smile only at you.

But there was something about her that bothered you. She looked more tense than usual.

“Have you read my essay?” you put the bag with a textbook on the desk and walk closer to her with a slight smile. Her eyebrows furrowed and she shakes her head.

“No,” her voice seems too harsh even for her and you catch your breath for a second, “but I've read your letters.”

A wave of panic immediately rolls over you and you don't know what to say. What to do? You need to deny everything, but you need to do it in such a way that it doesn't arouse suspicion. You can't immediately talk about the letters, as if you know what she's talking about…

You swallow a lump in your throat and already want to say something, but she gets ahead of you.

“Did you think I wouldn't recognize your style?”

Fear starts to bumble with something strange in your chest and you look at her, not able to move. Could it be... excitement? Has your life become such a mess that you feel excited about it?

“You can recognize my style?” Your voice is quiet and in addition to nervousness, there's a flicker of hope in it, but it immediately melts away when you look at Sam.

She looks at you with condemnation, almost with contempt, and you want to disappear and erase all the memories she had of you.

“Is that the only thing you care about?” her question sounds logical, but it makes you feel ashamed and you look down, “how did you even think of that? why?”

You can hear from her voice that she's trying to keep herself under control, but it doesn't go well. You know it's your fault. It was you who acted selfishly and abominably.

And did you expect anything else?

“I like you...” you exhale softly, but still don't dare to look at her. Your cheeks are burning and you're nervously fiddling with the bracelet on your hand. Your voice is getting higher with each word, “I know how terrible it looked, but I really like you! I needed to…”

“Needed what? Do you even know how I felt when I received these letters? And this is far from admiration. It's anxiety and disgust,” her words cut deep, but you don't try to argue with her. You just bite your lower lip, trying to keep yourself in check, even though the shame was eating you alive, “what would happen to me if one of the students or teachers found these letters? what would”ve happened to my job? Obviously you didn't think about it yet you're claiming it love”.

“I'm sorry, Miss Carpenter...” you're trying to justify yourself, to do at least something that could fix the situation, but she won't let you get a word in.

“You’re a good student and I appreciate your knowledge, but that's all. There will be no affairs, declarations of love... none of this will happen,” you slowly look up at her and know perfectly well that she’s serious. The corners of her lips are distorted in a slight grimace and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes, “I am your teacher. And as your teacher, I'm asking you to stop this,” she pauses for a moment, then adds in a lower voice, “or I'll have to leave this school.”

Everything inside freezes immediately and you take a step towards Sam, but stop when you notice how she moves away from you at the same moment. Your heart is racing. You want to do something. But you realize that you've already done enough. You can only look at the consequences of your actions. The way Sam's approving look turned to disgust. the way her praise changed to this.

“That's all. You can go now.”

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

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[xcherricutie]

🪷 it's over, isn't it 🪷

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, mentions of alcohol and drinking]

[Notes: I am just churning these out, these are so easy and fun to write lol]

It was an understatement to say you fell after everything. It was more like you crashed and burned, any semblance of a life in Heaven disappearing after your attack on Hell. You had quite literally raised Hell in Heaven, tearing your way down into the depths just to get your revenge. You had struck down the Princess of Hell, nearly erasing all of her memories, had her friends not helped her. And in the end, you backed down, your guilt finally catching up to you. You thought if you had let your anger control you, you would easily be able to kill Charlie and her friends. But the more time you spent in Hell, the more your anger ebbed away, leaving an empty shell in its place. 

In the end, the story remained the same. Your happy ending faded from view, and Charlie remained the hero of the story, along with her father, Lucifer. You were nothing but the bad guy, just another person standing in the way of the true story. Everything felt like a game to you, and you had to figure out how to climb your way to the top, to win. Losing this fight to Lucifer had dropped you all the way down to the very, very beginning. You had nothing. This time, you didn’t even have any friends. You were all alone. Or so, you had wished. Oh, how it was quite the opposite, actually. 

When you were cast from Heaven, Sera and Emily made absolutely certain that you didn’t end up in some rotten corner of Hell. Oh no, they had you fall right into the lap of Lucifer himself. They had begged and pleaded for him and Charlie to take you in, try to redeem you. Or at the very least, take care of you. It was what you deserved, Sera had said. Charlie was immediately all in, happy to have you despite what you had done. You had nearly wiped the demonic side of her clean, which would have ruined her life and stolen her memories. Yet, she happily accepted you with open arms, literally. She squeezed you in an almost deathly tight hug, promising to make up for what had happened to you. After you had shown her your memories, Charlie had become especially clingy to you, to make sure you were happy, that you weren’t lonely. 

The other hotel residents didn’t take to you as kindly as Charlie. Vaggie hated you with every fiber in her being, which you didn’t blame her for. Angel Dust and Husk both would team up on you and constantly remind you of what you had done. Alastor had been about as normal as you expected him to be, but you did notice he was rather pushy about information on your past, of which you indulged him none. Knowing he was either coveting your soul, or information on Lucifer, you tended to keep your distance from him. 

As for Lucifer himself, you hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in the week you had moved into the hotel. You didn’t want to speak to him, not after everything. Not after what he put you through. It was hard enough not getting to have your happy ending, you didn’t need him rubbing salt in the wound. Just his smile alone was enough to sour your whole day. And it seemed others knew that too, as Angel Dust would constantly question your relationship with Lucifer, and what it used to be like. Knowing it would end up getting back to Charlie, you kept quiet on the finer details of your past with him. Nobody, not even Charlie, knew he was once your husband in the eyes of Heaven. All that mattered now was that he was a nobody to you, a stranger. 

Your life in Hell hadn’t been all that bad though. Aside from Charlie forcing her friendship down your throat, you had actually managed to make one friend in the hotel, and it hadn’t surprised anyone a single bit when it happened. Adam, First Man, died during the exterminations, had become your closest friend in Hell. You could barely tolerate his attitude, but relating to him when it came to getting the short end of the stick was fun sometimes. You could spend hours with Adam, talking about how shitty Hell and the hotel was, getting lost in drinks and partying all night long. It was the first time you had genuinely smiled in the last ten thousand years. 

Tonight had been one of those nights. You and Adam stayed in the bar long after Husk had retired for the night. Drinking away afterlife’s issues, listening to music, talking about everything and nothing. Adam could talk a lot, and you were happy to finally listen to someone and just bask in their presence once again. But the nightly hour began to crawl up, taking its toll on you. You let out a soft yawn, leaning into the bar. 

“Adam, I’m pretty tired, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” You muttered, your voice slurring slightly. Adam hardly paid you any mind as he chugged his drink, giving you a thumbs up. 

“’Kay, ‘night, bitch,” He mumbled back, keeping his attention focused on the drinks that melted away his memories. You sighed, pushing yourself off the barstool, making your way back to bed. 

Your body felt sluggish, dragging behind you as you walked down the long, never-ending halls. You didn’t remember the hallways being so long. You groaned sleepily, trying to steady your body as you pressed a hand to the wall, letting the surface lead you down the hall. You leaned your weight onto your palm, barely picking your feet up off the floor. You were so tired. Tired of living here. Tired of eternity. Eternity was simply too long. 

You let out a yelp as the wall disappeared from underneath your hand, stumbling to the side and into the open bedroom doorway you had tripped up on. Your eyes snapped up to try and identify whose room you had fallen into, your gaze falling upon the open balcony door. The red light of the sky streamed into the room, making your eyes blur with sleepiness. Rubbing them, you leaned against the door, squinting your eyes at the person who leaned against the balcony railing. 

“I was fine with the men, who would come into her life now and again,” 

A familiar voice sung a soft tune, instantly sobering you up. Your vision cleared almost immediately, the sight of Lucifer holding a red rose making your throat close. He sighed, bringing the rose to his face, letting the petals tickle his skin. 

“I was fine cause I knew that they didn’t really matter until you,” His voice was somewhat breathy, as if he were on the brink of tears. You had to wonder what had pushed him to such a point, curious as to whom he was singing about. You found yourself planted in his doorway, watching as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the petals of the rose. 

“I was fine, when you came, and we fought like it was all some silly game, over her,” Lucifer took a deep breath, looking up into the deep red sky. “Who she’d choose. After all those years, I never thought I’d lose...” 

Pulling his hat off his head, Lucifer squeezed the brim tightly in his fist, before dropping it on the floor. Holding the rose with both hands, he stared out into the bright lights of Pentagram City, the lights reflecting and glimmering in his eyes. 

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” He leaned into the railing, standing on his tiptoes, threatening to tip over the edge at any second as he reached out into the city lights. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” 

Dropping back down onto the heels of his feet, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain his emotions. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone,” 

You watched with wide eyes as Lucifer’s wings sprouted from his back, giving a soft flap and lifting him into the air. His shoes landed on the edge of the railing with a soft tap, a shaky sigh coming from within him. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?” 

Lucifer looked down at the red rose in his hand, the thorns breaking the skin of his palm. Golden liquid pooled in his palm, soaking the stem, staining the petals, giving it an otherworldly glow. He glared at the sight, his emotions pooling over, overflowing. 

“War and glory, reinvention, the garden, freedom, her attention,” Lucifer walked along the edge of the railing, his body tipping back and forth between threatening to fall over and sinking back into his room. 

Your brows furrowed deeply at the mention of the garden, fingers digging into the doorframe. Was he singing about Lilith? You knew he and Lilith had split, Lilith disappearing over seven years ago now. You had even accidentally let out a laugh in Lucifer’s face when Charlie had told you that fact, furthering the man’s sadness. Not that you felt bad about it. 

But now, a sickness began to twist within your gut, making you want to hide away and never be seen again. He missed Lilith. You shouldn’t have been as upset about that as you were. If anything, you should’ve been laughing at his misery. But it only left a souring taste in your mouth, bile threatening to come up. 

“Out in daylight, my potential, bold, precise, experimental,” Lucifer smiled as the memories of a time gone by came and went in his mind. Back when he still fought for his dreams, back when he wanted to give humanity the greatest gift imaginable. If only he had known just what his gift would entail, maybe things wouldn’t be like this today. “Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her,” 

You turned your back to Lucifer, unable to continue listening to his depressing serenade anymore. You glanced back, eyes wide to find Lucifer lying on the balcony’s edge, as if uncaring what would happen to him should he fall. 

“What does it matter? It’s already done, now I’ve got to be there for her redemption,” 

Your whole body froze, blood going still in your body. Even your heart seemed to quieten down, barely thumping against your chest. Surely you hadn’t heard that right. Surely, he didn’t say redemption. Your redemption. He was singing about you. 

Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, trying to understand what was happening. Why would Lucifer, the man who abandoned you for ten thousand years, sing about missing you? You scraped your memories for any reason he would suddenly miss you, wondering what you had done to earn such attention. You had purposely been avoiding him, you thought you had taken the proper measure to never form another connection with that demon ever again. 

Your mind drifted back to what you had been doing before stumbling across Lucifer’s room. You had been spending time with Adam, the man who, apparently, Lucifer stole everything from. Lucifer had stolen both his wives, Lilith and Eve, and had made an eternal enemy out of the man. You felt the air in your lungs hitch in your throat, realization washing over you, drowning you in misery once more. Lucifer was jealous. 

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” Lucifer closed his eyes, leaning over the inner edge of the railing, dropping onto the floor, landing on his feet with a thud. He held the rose to his lips, ignoring the cold feeling of the breeze brushing past his face, teardrops falling down his cheeks and drenching the rose. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” 

He turned to face the city once more, the bright lights reflecting in his tears. He furrowed his brows in frustration, squeezing the rose tight enough to snap the stem. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone!” 

Lucifer threw the rose over the edge, the golden shimmer of his blood glittering as it poured like rain. He watched as the glitter disappeared in the bright city lights, his tears drying against his cheeks. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?” 

Looking down at the teardrops that had fallen to the ground, mixing with the droplets of blood dotting his balcony floor, Lucifer sighed deeply. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?” 

Silence filled the air once more, with the occasional sniffle from Lucifer as he wiped his teary eyes on his sleeves. He looked down at his hand, the shallow cuts already beginning the process of healing. Clenching his hand into a tight fist, he turned around, his energy fizzled out after his burst of emotions. He had just so happened to see you spending another long night with Adam in the lobby, and everything within him finally snapped. 

Turning around to retire to his bed, Lucifer’s eyes widened as they instead found you standing in his doorway. You visibly flinched, your blood running cold. You should’ve left long ago, but you found yourself stuck in place, watching the man before you break down. Now he was faced toward you, and the air suddenly felt suffocating. 

Without thinking, you whipped around, taking off running down the hall. Your sleepiness was replaced with a sense of panic, your feet thundering down the hall as you ran as fast as you could. You heard Lucifer’s voice, calling out to you, begging for you to wait, but you didn’t dare stop. You didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. You didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to the desire for older times. You knew, deep down, that if given the opportunity, you would willingly sink back into Lucifer’s hold, allowing yourself to be vulnerable to him once more. You also knew it would never end well. 

So, you ran. And eventually, you no longer heard Lucifer calling and chasing after you. You made it back to the safety of your room, curled into your bed, and passed out. You didn’t want to be awake and present in the moment, not when he could show up at any moment. You just wanted everything to disappear. 

And yet, you couldn’t get his voice out of your head, even long after falling asleep...

[benevolentspidey]

What’re your bakudeku hcs?

honestly what are they NOT lmao

izuku cannot cook to save his life but he always feels slightly guilty because katsuki is always cooking them food, so every now and then katsuki will let him cook them lunch for work the next day and if anyone even gives a sideways glance at how truly awful their food smells during lunch, katsuki will glare daggers into them while taking mouthfuls of the stuff. he just loves to see the proud smile on izukus face when he finishes the entire meal raving about how good it was.

the one thing izuku is good at making is bread, even better than katsuki (katsuki is still totally the better bread baker but AGAIN he lies and claims he’s not great at it because he is in love and a simp for izuku and loves to make his boy happy)

katsuki took night classes on massage therapy during their lasy year at UA because he knows how bad izuku's hands and arms hurt (ESPECIALLY when the weather changes) and the only way he knows how to fix it is by massaging them. (he literally has to force izuku to sit down and let him because he’ll deny it till he’s blue in the face that he's in any pain)

they have codependency issues so bad after the war that they’re literally inseparable for WEEKS before adults intervene and force them into therapy. like they have some part of their body touching each other at all times type of separation anxiety. (the final straw was when aizawa walked into the dorm kitchen to find katsuki giving izuku a piggyback ride while he walked all about in the kitchen trying to cook dinner for the class. izuku was passed out taking a nap during the whole ordeal.)

katsuki always washes izukus hair and does his curly hair haircare routine because no matter how many time he takes izuku through it, he always manages to fuck it up on his own.

Izuku pretends to be bad at it on purpose because he loves katsuki washing his hair he finds it hilarious that katsuki hasn’t figured it out yet

katsuki knows

they never outright confirm to the media if they’re dating or not, they don’t do PDA a whole lot, but they’re close enough that questions and rumors run wild. even when the media outright asks them they’re so vague it’s actually annoying

‘dynamight, what are your feelings towards deku?’ ‘right now? pretty fucking pissed he took down the villain right as I was closing in on him. took all the lime light away from me, the fucker.’

'hero deku! how are you and dynamight going to celebrate his new ranking in the hero chart? I'm sure it's going to be... explosive.' 'I think we're all going out with our former class mates for dinner or drinks or something. And kacchan is really good at controlling his quirk, so there's not going to be any unnecessary explosions, thats why he made it into the top 10!'

they are literally REQUIRED by their government issued therapist to not engage in PDA because:

1. their therapist is damn good at their job and knows the media coverage and public opinion on their relationship will send the pair of them into a tailspin and 

2. engaging in PDA will increase their codependency issues

They have a love-hate relationship with their therapist

the first time they argue after they get together is literally over groceries. because katsuki and izuku didn’t have any semblance of a friendship when they got to their teen years, katsuki didn’t see the midoriyas growing struggle with money. so when bakugo comes back from the store spending an extortionate amount on groceries that should've cost like ¥20,000 and he comes back having spent over ¥70,000 , izuku goes on an anxiety induced lecture about how careless katsuki was with their money, katsuki gets PISSED because he’s not careless and it spirals out of control until izuku finally burst out with ‘what are we gonna eat when all the food runs out and we have no more money’ and then, shocked and having no idea where izuku would that impression from has them sit down to have a conversation (okay actually i need someone to make this into a fic. shit i think i might make this into fic)

katsuki has a soft spot for mange-y and abandoned cats and will bring them home and take care of them until they're fully healed before rehoming them.

Izuku would never tell katsuki this, but he is very allergic to cats. He would rather die though than tell him and ruin his rehoming hobby.

izukus guilty pleasure is trash reality tv. (im talking like KUWTK and jersey shore type of trash reality tv) katsuki rolls his eyes at it and will tease izuku over it, but izuku will always find him standing behind the couch watching it while izuku is binging watching the episodes he's missed.

katsuki's love language is definitely words of affirmation but like done in the right way (aka the deku way) and physical touch (and also acts of service but it really depends on the person and the day)

izukus is acts of service and quality time (literally, katsuki will just sit next to him on the couch and let him ramble and ramble about what ever is in his notebook or on his mind for hours and izuku gets so much joy and love from that one small action)

i will fight tooth and nail for this take but katsuki is NOT the space heater everyone thinks he is. he's got very warm hands because of his quirk but out of the pair of them, izuku is the hot box when they're sleeping.

even though one of katsuki's love languages is physical touch he doesn't like people touching him or being in his personal space. besides izuku, the only other person allowed in his personal space is surprisingly todoroki

here's just a few headcanons i have. i'll probably add to this at different points because i definitely have more i just haven't ever written them down before

[duskandcobalt]

somebody else

Merry Christmas @whysterian ✨🎄

For your Christmas present, I’ve written something that’s both sweet and a little angsty which I feel fits the general vibe of Elriel as a pair anyway ☺️

I hope you enjoy this! Happy @acotargiftexchange

Xoxo your secret santa🎅🏽

1.6 words, no warnings ☺️

Elain giggled into the chest of the Shadowsinger the second his bedroom door had shut behind them.

She’d been making her way back to bed after dinner, tiptoeing down the hallway… purposefully slowing down as she passed the door of the room he was inhabiting for the night, in the hopes that he’d do exactly what he’d done. There was no fear, only absolute happiness that built inside her in the split second it had taken for the door to open and a strong arm to wrap around her middle and pull her inside. There’d been no indication that he’d be waiting for her, but she knew. In her heart, in her bones - Elain knew he’d be waiting and listening for the sound of her footsteps to pass by his door.

“Happy Solstice, pretty girl.” Azriel whispered, one scarred hand sliding up her neck until he could tilt her jaw upwards so her lips met his. He’d wasted no time, the wish just barely leaving his mouth before he kissed her. It was sweet, tender, thorough - his other hand placed safely on her waist, his fingertips easily stretching to press gently against the small of her back.

She’d waited all night for this. To have a moment alone - just the two of them - unbeknownst to anyone else. It had been a torturous evening of avoiding eye contact, of pretending like the two of them hadn’t spent the last few months sneaking off to dark corners of the house or hidden sections of the garden whenever they got the chance. After the debacle last solstice, Elain had thought everything was done between them before they’d even had a chance to start but she soon found out that she’d been wrong. With the full story in the open between them, she’d only come to realise that Azriel hated being told what to do… something that had worked very, very well in her favour because it meant that when he’d come back to Velaris a couple weeks after that ill-fated night, he’d made it quite clear that he was determined to have her.

“Happy Solstice, Azriel.” Elain smiled against his mouth, pressing a hand against his chest to put some semblance of space between them before things got out of control as it tended to whenever they were left alone too long. There’d be time for that later but there were other things that needed to be done first. “I’ve got something for you…”

“Oh yeah?” He tried pulling her closer but she peeled back again, shaking her head and laughing at the mischievous look in his eyes. She loved this side of him - the playful easiness he seemed to reserve just for her.

“Mhm,” Elain bit her lip, doing her best to concentrate on the task at hand and not on the look he was giving her lest she abandon everything and let him have his way with her. She reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, slipping out a small box she’d carefully wrapped late last night and holding it out to him.

“Didn’t have to get me anything…” Azriel smiled, carefully taking the box from her and weighing it in his palm. “Earbuds, headache tonic… what will this year bring, I wonder?”

Elain sighed, impatient as Azriel took his time carefully unwrapping the present. Her nerves were getting the best of her.

“It’s really for us, more than anything. I mean it’s mine but for us to share…” her voice drifted off, quiet as Azriel picked up a small silver key and held it in between his fingers. There was a crease on his forehead as he looked at her, waiting for an explanation. She wanted to soothe away the line with her fingers.

“The bakery I like in town… there’s an apartment a couple floors above it. I… I bought it.”

“You bought an apartment?” Azriel asked, turning the key over in his hand. “For us?”

“It’s silly…” Elain shook her head, suddenly feeling like she’d made a massive mistake. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when signed the papers and handed over the money. They’d spoken about one day having a place to themselves, where they wouldn’t have to worry about others seeing or hearing them and so she’d thought it would be a good idea. “I’m sorry, I just… it’s getting crowded here and I thought it’d be nice to have a place of my own. Somewhere we could go every now and then.”

“Hey,” Azriel stepped towards her, reaching forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not silly. It’s just… it’s really going to put my present to shame.”

Azriel chuckled as he pulled a small pouch from his back pocket and handed it to her.

Elain took it, opening it to find an ornate hair pin fashioned into the shape of wild flowers. It was beautiful, the tiny stones glimmering in the dim light of the room.

“That feels silly now,” he laughed, slipping the hair pin from her hand and then reaching behind her to wind her hair up before securing it in place. He looked her over, his eyes slowly scanning over her face and her newly exposed throat. “Perfect.”

“It’s lovely, thank you.” Elain wound her arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Shall we go see this apartment now?” Azriel asked just as she felt him drag the key he still held up the length of her spine.

“Can you winnow us there?” She asked, heat and excitement building in her belly with each passing second.

…

Azriel could barely stand to be in the room this year, once again relegated to standing in the shadowed doorway as the festivities unfolded before him.

There was no excitement this year. No anticipation of sweeping a certain sister into his room after everyone else had gone to bed - happily drunk and bellies full, their newly acquired gifts scattered in front of the fireplace where they’d be collected the next morning. That anticipation was in the past. Now, he watched as his closest friends enjoyed the night. Watched as the love of his life sat still as a stone next to the male that had won in the end.

Azriel had fooled himself for the better part of three years. Had somehow tricked himself into thinking that for once, he could have what his heart desired despite all the extenuating factors against him. He’d thought that this would be it, that he’d finally been chosen. That he’d finally gotten the life that he’d always secretly dreamed of having. Of a female to come home to. A female to cherish. Someone that understood him.

The rug had been pulled out from under him one evening when Elain had stood in front of him uncharacteristically stone faced as she told him they couldn’t keep doing what they’d been doing and that it was time for her to accept what the Cauldron had planned for her.

A life away from him. A life with a son of Autumn.

He hadn’t been able to say anything. Hadn’t even really tried to argue that she was making a mistake. How could he when far in the back of his mind, a small part of him always knew that this had always been too good to be true.

For months now, he’d avoided her. Had been able to drown himself in work - throwing every bit of time and energy he had into his reports and assignments in order to keep his mind off of everything he’d lost because if he thought about it too much, he’d go crazy. Much like he was now.

He’d tried. He really had. He’d tried to not watch her from the second she walked into the River House with her arm looped through Lucien’s. But it was a lost cause because just like the very first time he’d met her, she’d drawn his attention with little to no effort. She was beautiful. Ethereal. There could be a thousand females in a room and Azriel would find her within seconds. He’d been quietly observing her all night, making sure she seemed okay. Making sure she seemed happy.

Elain on the other hand had refused to even look in his direction after an initial polite greeting and he’d given up after a while, had taken to sulking in the shadows as he nursed a tumbler of whisky and avoided making eye contact with Nesta. That sister in particular had an uncanny ability to read him when no one else could and he hated it.

It wasn’t until he’d overheard the tail end of a conversation that he dared to look at Elain again.

“I have to head back to the Spring Court tonight, unfortunately.” Lucien had said.

“Oh, what a shame,” Feyre pouted. “I was looking forward to spending time with my sister before you two wed.”

“Well,” Elain’s voice pierced Azriel’s heart. It’d been so long since he’d heard that gentle voice so clearly. Paired with Feyre’s reminder of the upcoming mating ceremony, it was like a dagger to the heart. “Lucien’s going back but I… I thought I’d stay behind but I… I, um… I’ve arranged for a place to stay in town for a couple nights so that I’ll be out of your way but I’ll come visit during the day.”

Azriel’s breath halted as Elain’s gaze lifted suddenly, her eyes meeting his for one searing moment before she returned her attention to Feyre who’d squealed at the news and had immediately set to planning what they could do with their time together.

He could’ve been imagining it - the invitation he thought he might’ve seen in that short glimpse they’d shared. They’d always had a knack for communicating their thoughts and needs with few words actually spoken aloud. But it wasn’t until Elain stood abruptly, heading for the kitchen, that he caught a glimpse of the pin nestled into her dark curls. A delicate bunch of wildflowers that was as familiar as the key he swore he could feel warming his skin from where it still resided in his back pocket.

[zhaohuis-lost-walnut]

Lanzhou and Control

[spoilers up to chapter 220ish]

So I’ve been working on a future post and have been rereading my personal chapter summaries and notes. As I refreshed my memory and even reread some specific chapters, I ended up asking google a question that sent me to an interesting Reddit post.

Basically someone said they didn’t understand why Shen Zechuan initiated intercourse in chapters 40-41. Someone else gave a very thoughtful reply which you can read here, but the part I’m focusing on for this post is Shen Zechuan’s relationship with control. The replier shared, amongst other things, that Shen Zechuan gave Xiao Chiye control in that situation.

I actually just reread chapter 40 today and noticed that on page 413 of vol. 1 it says “Shen Zechuan allowed Xiao Chiye to gather his wrists into one hand”. I never really thought much of that phrase in my previous readings of volume 1, but I feel like that it only really sunk in for me after getting better acquainted with their relationship as it developed.

Throughout the story it’s repeated over and over how both leads HATE having their lives out of their hands. Xiao Chiye despises that he was forced away from his family and home. And Shen Zechuan hates how he was held at the mercy of others for years as well; vowing to never be in such a position again. Both of these individuals crave freedom. And yet, Shen Zechuan allowed Xiao Chiye to do as he pleased with him.

Now, their first time being intimate has a lot of nuance to it. They both used that moment to escape reality for a time. And this particular instance of relinquished autonomy literally had Shen Zechuan expecting to be handled roughly. But once their relationship developed into a mutual romance, time and time again, Shen Zechuan surrenders control, letting Xiao Chiye take the lead, and following his whims.

I’m currently at chapter 220 and while some of their unions still have escapist undertones, there are still pure romantic moments where Shen Zechuan completely gives himself up to Xiao Chiye. And I think it shows a key difference in these two’s desire for control: Xiao Chiye likes to dominate by nature while Shen Zechuan feels like he has to for survival. Not to call Xiao Chiye a freak, but bro is literally described as enjoying fights, likes the struggle of taming wild animals, and is possessive as hell! While Shen Zechuan’s need for control stemmed from being abused by others throughout his life. When he’s not in control, he gets hurt. So that told him when he’s in control, he can protect himself.

I have taken mental note of a few scenes during Shen Zechuan’s conquering Zhongbo era where he’s tired or even annoyed by the work that goes into running essentially a country. But why doesn’t he delegate those tasks to others? Because unless he is genuinely incapable of getting the job done himself, he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. He’s also stated several times that he doesn’t desire to be at the top: two examples that immediately came to mind being in chapter 70 when Xiao Chiye asks “Don’t you want a turn at the top?” and in Shen Zechuan’s conversation with Yao Wenyu in chapter 146. While in both of these instances he was bluffing, part of me thinks there is at least a semblance of truth to the statement.

When he lived with the Jis in Duanzhou, he was content with his simple life. He wanted to be like his brother and become a squad commander one day, but that’s nowhere near as ambitious as taking over and bringing peace to several prefectures. He was happy. And then his world was flipped upside down.

While I don’t think he necessarily regrets the path he is on now, he definitely misses simpler times. In chapter 209 Shen Zechuan says he forced himself to stop thinking about his days in Duanzhou because remembering those times make him cry. He was forcefully removed from a life he loved, and thrusted into the middle of a violent political struggle.

All of this to say, while Shen Zechuan is implied to be a natural leader and has a domineering nature, it isn’t really a position he chose to be in. Every action he takes is deeply calculated from multiple angles for the best possible outcome. Even carefully crafting his persona to attempt to control how he’s perceived. And living your life like that is DRAINING!

Oh man, Shen Zechuan is tired 😩

But when he’s with Xiao Chiye, he can turn his brain off. He can forget about his meetings. Forget about trying to watch everything the other enemy factions are doing. Forget about trying to put up a front as to not scare those around him with his true self. He can melt into Xiao Chiye and think of nothing but him.

I think the real turning point in their relationship was in the Public Ditches arc. Shen Zechuan is literally out of commission for several days due to illness and Xiao Chiye came to watch him every single night. Shen Zechuan had no choice but to let Xiao Chiye take care of him… but the tenderness Xiao Chiye showed him? The genuine concern? The comforting whispers and cuddles? It left an impression on Shen Zechuan.

I think Xiao Chiye’s sincerity truly shined through to him in those moments. None of those actions were necessary, and yet Xiao Chiye ran himself ragged handling his professional work and his silly little guy.

Shen Zechuan being cherished in such a vulnerable moment showed him that he could really trust Xiao Chiye. Half a decade before, people in power took advantage of Shen Zechuan and pinned the deaths of tens of thousands on a confused and delirious teenaged boy, while this big love struck dummy showed Shen Zechuan an intimacy he had never experienced before. And that’s so beautiful I could cry.

Shen Zechuan doesn’t need to be on his guard around Xiao Chiye, and Xiao Chiye likes being a leader. Shen Zechuan has his trusted confidant and Xiao Chiye tamed his falcon. …well, work in progress. His falcon still gets himself hurt carelessly.

Shen Zechuan needed stability and someone to lean on. And he found that in Xiao Chiye.

I have so many thoughts. OMG I’m so unwell about these two. I started writing this at 3am and forced myself to go to bed and finish it upon waking up. They drive me crazy. All the worm in my brain are Shen Zechuan and Xiao Chiye shaped!!!

In my next essay I shall explore why they rolepla—

[racheyace]

Running Into Fire

A Luke and Matt sizeshifter short story, this story takes place immediately after 'Be the Hero'.

TW: Life threatening scenarios involving being trapped in a burning building, some swearing, mentions of self-hate and shame

Approx 4.2k words

“Come on dude please! This will be so good for your image!” Matt was pacing the living room practically giddy with excitement; he was shaking like a squirrel on caffeine.

Luke on the other hand was largely less enthused, mostly embarrassed, and deadly scared of revealing his unique abilities to anyone else, he’d already let too many people see what he was capable of in the last few months.

“Matt I can’t, I can’t just go around shifting for the whole world to see, you don’t get it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t going to let this drop, it had been two weeks since the incident at the bank and Matt was convinced, he was now somewhat of a vigilante. Luke had used his size shifting abilities during a bank robbery, the robber had turned suicidal when it was clear there was no sign of escape and had set a bomb.

Luke, thinking quickly had shifted into his larger size of approximately 60 feet to smother the bomb and apprehend the criminal. The police had then discovered what was going on and promised Luke they would keep his secret, for which he was grateful.

Matt on the other hand was only convinced further that Luke should continue to use his powers for fighting crime.

“Honestly Luke what the hell is the point in having kickass superpowers if you aren’t ever gonna use them!”

“I’m not a superhero Matt, I’m a freak of nature and this has to be kept a secret.” Luke stood then, feeling his blood pressure rise with the feeling of anger, he didn’t want to fight with Matt, but he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the minute.

Another reason Luke couldn’t rely on his own abilities, though he had some semblance of control to shift at will, his shifting was also controlled by his heightened emotions.

Feelings such as anger or stress could cause him to grow and feelings of sadness and exhaustion would make him shrink, all out of his control, if he didn’t have a handle on his emotions.

“I’ve kept your secret Luke, and I don’t plan on going around revealing your powers to the world, but I at least think you should be using them to save people.” Matt was firm, his arms crossed over his chest, all excitement of a child gone in an attempt to help his friend see his own potential.

“Fuck man you don’t seem to understand that if this gets out, people will come after me, either the general public who think I’m dangerous or the government who will see me as a science project. I won’t be helping anyone if I’m locked up in some government facility.” Luke pushed his fingers through his short brown locks.

“This isn’t like in the movies Matt, superheroes aren’t real, in real life freaks like me need to stay hidden, for our own protection and for the protection of others.” Sighing deeply, Luke finished his rant, he wasn’t usually a man of very many words, but he needed to get Matt to understand this.

“Fine, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” The tall blonde walked away from the conversation, it was clear they were not going to agree on this tonight, but he knew his friend and he knew that when push comes to shove, he would be the hero.

Luke fell back into the soft cushions of the couch, he didn’t feel like he’d won that, and he knew he hadn’t, but at least for now Matt would drop the issue and stop sketching potential superhero disguises for him.

Luke and Matt had known each other since they were in the first grade and had been thick as thieves since. When Lukes abilities made themselves known when he was six years old, he was sworn by his parents to keep it a secret even from his best friend, so it wasn’t until high school that Matt actually learned of Luke’s gift and even that had been by accident.

Luke had been stressed about a major test and feeling the tightness in his body and the push of shifting coursing through him all day, when the test was over, he had bolted into the forest that backed onto the school oval so he could shift.

He had not expected anyone to follow him, but he was grateful that it had been Matt and not someone else, though it had been a scary revelation for Matt he had quickly overcome his fears and was stoked to be in on the secret. Luke had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t have to hide a huge part of who he was from his best friend.

Now some 10 years later, both of them in their mid-twenties and sharing an apartment in New York, still best friends and trying to lead a somewhat normal life, this had clearly grown boring for Matt though.

Matt was the more charismatic of the two where Luke was the quiet nerdy type, overly emotional and anxious as all hell, which didn’t bode well for him considering the nature of his abilities.

Luke’s biggest fear is still to lose control of his abilities and hurt someone he cares about, there had been way too many close calls throughout the course of his life so far and it was so easy to lose control. He couldn’t let that happen, and if he were to play the superhero then the probability of something going horribly wrong was much higher, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why can’t I just be fucking normal.” Luke sighed through gritted teeth; life would be so much simpler.

A loud explosion sounded nearby, shaking Luke from his self-depreciating thoughts, the crash could be felt like an earthquake through the floor and rattled the windows. Quickly jumping to the window, he could see flames coming from a nearby apartment building, only a block or two away, it looked as though a few cars had crashed into the building followed by an explosion.

Hearing the quick pads of feet down the hall he turned to see Matt had emerged with his shoes on and a hoodie over his pajama top.

“Oh, hell no.” Luke said, already knowing exactly what Matt was thinking.

“We will get there faster than the emergency services Luke, we have to go and help.” Matt was already heading for the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not doing it Matt; I won’t shift in front of all those people.”

Matt sighed turning away from him, clearly still either pissed or just disappointed in him, he opened the door as he spoke “I’m not asking you too, I’m going to go and help, whether you come with me or not, that’s what good people do.”

Matt closed the door behind him, and Luke turned his pale blue eyes skyward as if the ceiling might provide him with a reasonable excuse to stay in his apartment. Groaning loudly, he pushed off from the window to put his shoes on.

He wouldn’t let his friend go alone with the potential that he could and would recklessly put his own life in danger to help, he was the real hero after all, Luke was the coward.

Luke quickly raced down the two flights of stairs and chased after Matt who was already approaching the smoky scene. Now seeing things up close, it was clear that two cars had crashed into each other before rolling into the building and crashing into what must have been a gas pipe.

The six-story building was in flames, four of the six floors already engulfed with the fire rapidly escalating higher by the minute, many residents of the building were standing outside already disheveled and, in their nightwear, crying and hugging each other.

“Is everyone out? Has anyone called 911?” Matt was asking the crowd, a few people were on their phones already, presumably calling emergency services.

“No, there’s an elderly couple on the sixth floor, I can’t see them, there’s also a family with kids and I think a few others, I can’t see them anywhere they must be still inside, of god I wish they would hurry!” A stocky woman shouted, she had short, cropped hair and was clutching a small dog to her chest sobbing into his fur.

Matt nodded at the woman before running towards the entry way into the apartment, Luke followed after him grabbing his arm to pull him back.

“No fucking way Matt, there’s no way I let you go in there.” Matt tugged on his arm trying to shake Luke off of him, he had a sharp look in his hazel eyes.

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch it burn, the firefighters are ten minutes away, they’ll be dead by then.”

“And you’ll be dead too, fuck!” Look shut his eyes tightly thinking of a way to get those people out, they couldn’t go up from the bottom, it was already unstable and engulfed by flame, they needed to go in from the top. He had a plan, but he didn’t like it.

“Damnit Matt, come with me, quickly!” He shouted at his friend pulling him around the corner and into the shadow of the neighboring building.

“We do this quickly okay, I’ll shift and let you in to the sixth floor, get the people to the window and I’ll carry them down and then we go before emergency services get here, got it?”

Without waiting for his friend to respond he quickly shot up to his 65-foot height, he pulled his hoodie over his face to hopefully hide his identity from onlookers, he then knelt down in front of his friend, laying his hand palm up for Matt to climb onto.

It never ceased to amaze Matt each time he saw his best friend grow into a literal giant, but there was no time to stare slack jawed, he quickly climbed on sitting with crossed legs in the center of the massive palm as it rose into the air.

With only a brief moment to hesitate, Luke carefully stepped out of the shadows of the building and rounded the corner, his footsteps quaked the ground below him and the multitude of gasps from the ground made him flinch. Ignoring the gawking stares, he went straight up to the building trying his best to keep his steps light lest he cause the unstable building to collapse.

At his impressive height of 65 feet, he stood eye level with the windows of the sixth floor, carefully and mindful of his small passenger he raised his hand up to the sixth floor, knocking one of the windows with the tip of his finger to break it and allow Matt to enter.

Once his hand was level with one of the windows, Matt stood and jumped through the open window, immediately shouting to anyone that might be there.

“If your still up here, shout out, make a noise, we need to get you out of here now!”

With nothing else to do but anxiously wait while the crowd of small people below him stared up at him in most likely fear, he fiddled with the edge of his hood and tried his best not to look at them.

He could feel their stares though, and the click of photographs being taken.

In the distance he could hear sirens and he cursed under his breathe.

“Come on Matt.” Luke muttered impatiently.

As if reading his mind, Matt made an appearance at the window, he had an elderly woman in a nightgown on his left with her arm over his shoulder for support and an elderly man on his right also leaning against him and coughing from the smoke in the air.

Luke raised his hand to the window, making it level and flush against the side of the building so it was easier for them to step onto, the woman looked up probably expecting to see a fireman and a ladder but instead was greeted with large blue eyes peering in.

She screamed bloody murder and clung to Matt, urging him to back away from the window.

“Ma’am it’s okay, he’s a friend, we are here to help I promise.” He assured her.

“M-monster!” She wailed, Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the word, he’d always referred to himself as a monster, a freak but never once had he heard someone cry that name at him before, not his family, not Matt, not even the frightened onlookers during the bank incident.

The word pierced through him, and he hesitated, he didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, he knew what it felt like to literally put your life in someone else’s hands, and they didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him.

Matt rubbed the woman’s back soothingly, while the old man stood silently, his shirt pulled over his mouth so he could breathe easier, he stared at Luke as if calculating if it was worth the risk.

At that very moment Matt had just managed to calm down the old woman when there was more commotion behind him and soon a young woman with two young children, a little girl of around six years old and an older boy maybe ten, came into view of the window. The mother skidded in her tracks when she took in the scene before her, backing away towards the fiery hallway they had just come from.

“No wait!” Matt cried, quickly becoming frustrated with everyone’s hesitance towards his friend.

“Listen! This is Luke! He’s a friend, I swear, we only want to get you down from this building, you only have to trust him for one minute then I swear you can walk away!”

The mother and two children walked a little closer, but the old woman was firm in place.

“Do you want to wait for the fire fighters to get here and risk your lives while you wait or do you want to get down now!”

That was enough to convince the young mother and she skirted around the wailing woman, she then helped her children up onto the ledge and onto the awaiting palm, once seated in the center she held both her children close to her.

Luke raised his other hand as a sort of safety ledge before carefully pulling his hands away from the building and lowering the small family to the ground.

Another round of gasps erupted from the people around him and he kept his head tilted downwards in hopes that no one would get a good angle of his face. Once his hand was on the ground, he moved his other away from the family so they could step off easily, his eyes met the little girls, she reminded him so much of his own little sister when he was younger.

The young woman stood on shaky legs and pulled her children along with her, Luke had to suppress the automatic impulse to flinch from the feeling of small limbs tickling his sensitive palm. The little girl toddled after her mother and gave him a little wave, her other hand gripping a small brown bear to her chest.

“Thank you, Luke.” She said, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, he nodded once to her before he addressed the growing crowd.

“I’m gonna stand up again.” He muttered, he knew his voice no matter how soft would carry and echo through the streets, he felt he at least owed them a little warning.

Then standing again, he raised his hand once more to the window ledge, the fire had entered the room now and the woman still stood shaking her head, now however the old man was at her side also trying to convince her to get on.

“Come on Brenda love, we can’t stay here.”

Matt had had enough though, he approached the window trying to get a glimpse of the emergency services, he could hear them getting faintly louder, still a minute or two away, but the building could give way at any second.

“Luke your gonna have to grab her.”

Luke gulped audibly, not only did he really not want to do that, but he hated grabbing anyone against their will, even holding the robber in a firm fist had made him feel sick to his stomach. No one should have their free will taken from them like that, especially a frightened old woman.

“Matt, you can’t ask me to, I can’t.”

“Do it lad, she won’t listen to reason, please help us out of here.” The old man spoke up then, his wife was in a state of panic and not listening to anything happening around her, there was no way to convince her to get on his hand willingly and Matt couldn’t lift her onto it on his own.

The building groaned and that made up his decision, they had to do this now.

“Okay, alright, you two get on first.” The old man wasted no time, he climbed on and sat himself down holding on tight to Luke’s thumb that had curled into his palm, Matt hopped on shortly after.

Luke moved them towards his chest, so they had some kind of shield from the drop below before his other hand crowded the window, the old woman was backing up, but she wasn’t fast enough for the large appendage that invaded the small space of the room.

She screamed so loudly that it could surely be heard from a few blocks away, Luke held his breathe, hating himself as his fingers wrapped around her frail frame, he held her in a loose fist, not wanting to squeeze too tightly on her fragile body.

Then as carefully as he could he pulled her from the building, he knelt down once more, letting off his two passengers and carefully opening his other hand next to Matt so he could help her if she was unstable.

Luke hadn’t realized until now, but the old woman had become silent in his hand, as he let her go, Matt caught her and lowered her onto the ground.

A deafening groan came from the building behind them, and Luke turned to see the sixth floor begin to collapse, he stood and stretched his arms out hoping to shield the civilians from the crash, He pushed the building upright with a grunt and then let it concave in on itself. God, he hoped that they had gotten everyone out.

The dust and smoke filtered out through the streets, causing the people on the sidelines to cough and choke, it was then that the fire truck rounded the corner, screeching tires and sirens blazing casting the site in red and blue light. Luke decided to pay them no mind, they were late to the scene, and he had other things to worry about now.

Once he was sure the building wouldn’t fall further into the crowd, he turned back to Matt and the elderly woman on the ground, his eyes widened when he saw that Matt was pushing his hands into her chest, performing CPR.

All colour drained from Luke’s face and he crouched down so his face was hovering over them, Matt’s brow was slick with sweat from the exertion.

“W-what happened? D-did I-?”

“I think she had a heart attack.” Matt panted as he continued pressing rhythmically into her chest.

“No no no.” Luke muttered, he thought for sure his own heart had stopped, this is what he feared most, he’d actually done it, he’d hurt someone, unintentionally but nevertheless proved he was indeed what she had called him, a monster.

“Step back!” A burly looking man pushed through the crowed, he held a first aid kit and a portable defibrillator slinging across his chest and an ambulance emblem on his uniform, he must be a paramedic.

“Suspected heart attack, she’s been unresponsive for about a minute.” Matt told the paramedic as he took over, Matt was a paramedic also but obviously off duty, he helped the man cut the woman’s shirt down the middle before sticking two defibrillation tabs onto her chest.

“Clear!” The man shouted before proceeding to shock the woman, her body jolted, and a deafening single beep resounded. He rebooted the device and went for it once again, jolting her body, it felt like time stood still as everyone waited to listen to the beeping of her heart.

“Beep, beep, beep.” A rhythm, Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the breeze blew the hair of those directly under his looming face, and then the paramedic looked up at him.

“He’s cool.” Matt said, he spoke to the man with familiarity, like they knew each other, they probably did seeing as Matt was also a paramedic.

“I don’t wanna know man.” He shook his head and waved for them to get out of there, Luke wasted no time, he stood without waiting for Matt to follow, rounded the corner and when he saw no one was looking he shrunk back to an average height of 6 foot 5.

Matt jogged around the corner to catch up with him and immediately pulled his mate into a tight hug.

“Luke, I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re a hero, those people would not still be alive without you.”

Luke couldn’t shake the image of the old woman, literally scared to death, he may have actually killed her had Matt not been there to start CPR she would still be dead.

“Heroes don’t kill people Matt.” He said quietly, he couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, instead he only stared at his hands like they were alien to him. “let’s just go.” Luke turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward their apartment, the shaky feeling of adrenalin leaving his body and now all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

“Come on man, don’t blame yourself.” But he could tell that he wasn’t hearing him, he knew Luke felt responsible for the old woman Brenda’s near-death experience.

“The stress from the fire, inhaling all that smoke, and probably partly you all contributed to her heart attack, you didn’t kill her Luke, she’s breathing, she will live to breathe another day because of you.”

Luke couldn’t hear him, the woman’s screams drowning out any other sounds to his ears, the look of sheer terror on her face and the way she writhed in his grasp before she ceased moving all together, and then the way she hung limp against his fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t shake those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

“Luke!” He turned sharply to tell Matt to quit with the lecture already when he realized he had to look up at his friend’s face, currently staring squarely at Matt’s chest and definitely not the height he should be.

He let a tear fall down his cheek then, he should have expected this, he could feel himself feeling more and more down about himself, beating himself up until he felt raw inside. This is what he felt he deserved after all, after being a dangerous giant, he deserved to be weak and small now, at the mercy of large hands other than his own.

“Oh, Luke buddy.” Matt sighed, watching his friend slowly dwindle in height until he stood no taller than his ankle, at which point Luke collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, large sobs wracking his small body.

Matt looked around the street to ensure no one else was around, everyone nearby was too busy focused on the fire and supporting the victims and witnesses of the event. He then knelt down in front of Luke and laid out a palm for him much like Luke had done for him only ten minutes ago.

“Come on dude, let’s get you home.” Luke crawled on hands and knees into the safety of his best friends warm and slightly sweaty palm. Matt had bore witness to his shifting abilities in all its forms and was well versed in handling his friend when he was this small.

Matt carefully raised Luke up to his chest and held him securely there, blocking him from view with his other hand from anyone who might walk by or look out their windows. All they would see was a hooded young man holding something to his chest, they would probably assume he’d been to a drug deal or something, but he didn’t care what they thought as long as he kept his friend safe.

Once inside the apartment, Matt asked Luke if he wanted to stay up and talk about what happened, hoping to raise his friends spirits enough for him to grow back but Luke only shook his head requesting to be put on his bed for the night. Matt reluctantly let him go, not wanting to push the issue any further before heading to his own bed.

That night both friends slept like the dead and Luke wondered if being a hero would ever become easier.