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cleo-fox · 1 year ago

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Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky.

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core.

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he��s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature.

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter.

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long.

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss. He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x yn #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki fanfiction

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samaraxmorgan · 3 months ago

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Got Jealous Of His Twin Brother”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, slight Yuuji x Reader but we all know who you’re really here for, Sukuna is down bad, narration is mostly from Sukuna’s POV

Word Count: 1.80k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna is a fucking geinus.

His plan is full proof. His brothers put him in charge of buying the tickets for some stupid ass movie Yuuji wants to go see, and you always write your work schedule down on the calendar taped to the fridge. Sure, yeah, maybe he had to call out sick for today because this was the only day that Choso had work and you didn’t, but now he knows that his plan will fall perfectly into place. Yuuji is already at the apartment, you’ll come downstairs eventually, and Yuuji will invite you to come to the movie in Choso’s place, making it look like a total coincidence and definitely not something he’s been meticulously planning all week.

Could he have just, I don’t know, asked you to go on a date with him? Of course not, that’s fucking ridiculous. This makes so much more sense.

I mean, you absolutely loved The Human Centipede, definitely weren’t covering your eyes in terror and disgust when he showed it to you, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll just adore Human Earthworm. Hah! What a fuckin’ joke, you’ll be dragging Sukuna out of the theatre within five minutes and begging him to take you out somewhere else without his annoying twin brother.

It’s perfect.

Him and Yuuji are lounging on opposite ends of the couch while Yuuji is going on and on about an Elden Ring boss he can’t beat. Sukuna has his boots propped up on the coffee table and his arms resting behind his head as he half listens to his brother, and more so keeps an ear out for your footsteps upstairs.

“I was gonna try and beat her without summons but she’s kicking my ass, how many tries did it take you?”

“One.”

“Ugh!” Yuuji flops backwards on the couch, grabbing a throw pillow and shoving it over his face, his defeated whines muffled through the plush cotton, “She’s so impossible!”

Footsteps, finally. As you walk into the living room Yuuji uncovers his face, and you stop dead in your tracks, pointing at him, and then his brother, back and forth a few times before rubbing your eyes.

“Holy shit, there’s two of you?”

Oh yeah, I never mentioned my family huh?

Sukuna just gives you a smug smirk, “Three, but the emo one couldn’t make it.”

Yuuji perks up, jolting upright on the couch and giving you a bright smile, “Hi! I’m the normal one!”

You pull a chair out from the kitchen table, plopping yourself down into the wooden seat, “I think I’m gonna faint.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sukuna is… a fucking idiot.

He knew his brother had a bubbly personality and could get along with literally anyone, but how was he supposed to know that you two would hit it off so well? Yuuji is pulling out all the stops, holding the door open for you, offering to pay for your popcorn, god it’s like he’s trying to get on Sukuna’s nerves.

Granted, it’s not like Sukuna told him that he likes you, but I mean for fucks sake that’s his twin brother! Shouldn’t he have some sort of sixth sense for this kind of thing?

That pink haired fucker has you wrapped around his little finger, you’re looking at him with googly eyes and cheesing like it’s fucking picture day. Ridiculous. Why don’t you ever smile like that for him? He’s funny!

I’m never letting him in the apartment again.

The three of you walk up to the top row of the nearly empty theater, Sukuna making sure to sit right between you and Yuuji. Previews are rolling on the screen as Sukuna is trying his damndest to hide the scowl on his face, his large arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches the way the large screen reflects different colors into your eyes. He didn’t really think this far ahead, he’s got you next to him at the movies but… what now? He’s mentally kicking himself enough as it is for not considering his overly charismatic brother, and now he’s realizing that he doesn’t even know what his own intentions are.

Did he just want to take you somewhere? Is he trying to sleep with you? Does he want to be… romantic with you?

God, what has he become? He’s supposed to be the tough fucking scary guy and he’s not only getting shown up by his nerdy brother, but also getting nervous at the thought of making a move on you.

Yuuji flings popcorn in your direction, making you squeal out a giggle as it gently lands in your hair. Sukuna groans, hardly paying attention as he’s deep in thought, running his finger through your hair and flicking the popcorn away. He’s so consumed in his own head that he completely misses the blush that tints your cheeks at his tender touch.

Should I have even bothered with this? I feel like staying at the house would’ve been better at this point.

A piece of popcorn flies into his eye.

“Ugh,” This is so stupid, Sukuna rubs his eyelid with his thumb, “Watch it, brat.”

Yuuji tosses his hands up defensively and you giggle again, leaning over the armrest and placing your pointer finger on Sukuna’s cheek, tilting his face to turn towards you. Have your eyes always been that bright?

“Ooh, bullseye.” He can feel your breath fanning on his face, you’re so close, but just as abruptly as you leaned in, you lean back into your seat. God, he wants more than anything to tell you to come back, but the words wouldn’t be able to escape his lips if he tried. Unfortunately, all he manages to do is glare down at you and make you shift awkwardly under his gaze, mumbling out a quick apology.

Fuck. I think I scared them.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

From what you’ve been able to gather, this movie is weird. Is it horror or romance? You’ve been having trouble paying attention, far too distracted by Yuuji leaning over the very annoyed looking Sukuna to excitedly whisper tidbits about the movie to you. But every time you look over to Yuuji your eyes can’t help but wander to Sukuna’s profile, the flashing lights of the large screen illuminating his tattooed skin, his bottom lip tutting out to blow the loose strand of his pink hair resting on his brow out of his eyes-

Ah dammit, I’m doing it again.

You’re so confused. Sukuna has been giving you mixed signals all night, sweetly running his fingers through your hair one moment, then glowering at you like he wants you dead the next. He’s so unpredictable, and you’ve been so distracted by him all evening that you’ve hardly been able to pay any attention to poor Yuuji, giving him bright smiles and fake laughs while your mind is completely consumed with Sukuna.

He’s been so grumpy the entire evening, you’ve been feeling like he’s… disappointed? Is he mad his other brother couldn’t come? Is he mad that you took the emo one’s place? Would he rather somebody else have gone to the movie with him? It was Yuuji’s idea for you to tag along, so it’s safe to assume that if Sukuna wanted you here he would have just invited you, right?

But then every now and again his eyes flicker to you, watching. Why is he looking at you like that? With his gaze so uncharacteristically soft, scanning your face like he’s searching for something, from the corner of your eye you can catch him looking at your lips.

Is there something on my face?

You’re ripped from your thoughts as a blood curdling scream erupts from the speakers, making you jump in your seat. You catch the tiniest glimpse of a smirk creeping on the corner of Sukuna’s lips as he sits like a rock, completely unbothered as per usual. You gently kick his foot under the seat, and he presses his large boot onto the top of your sneaker, pinning your shoe under his and keeping your foot locked in place under the sole of his steel toe boot.

You cross your arms over your chest, letting out a frustrated huff at him that only makes his grin grow wider, his face still pointed towards the large screen as he flashes his canines at you. He props his elbow on the armrest between you, resting his chin on the ball of his palm as he peers down at you with a smug grin.

“You ready to get out of here yet?”

Cocky fucker, I swear he gets off on making me mad.

“No.” You snap back defensively.

Unbeknownst to you, his question was not rhetorical. But you’re in it now, determined to sit through this entire movie even if it kills you. You’re bothering him enough just by being here, the last thing you want to do is make him feel like he needs to leave.

His smirk shifts into a grimace as he taps his boot on top of your shoe. You slide your sneaker away but he loops his calf around yours and pulls your leg towards him, gently kicking your foot. If you didn’t know better you’d almost think he was… trying to play footsies with you? You’re not really sure what he’s trying to do, all you know is that he’s still leaning on the armrest between you and probably unintentionally pulling you closer by your leg.

Your arm brushes against his as you try to maneuver your elbow onto the armrest, quietly muttering to him “You’re hogging up all the space.”

He leans down slightly to whisper in your ear, “Tragic. Use the other one.”

You nudge his forearm with your elbow, “Just move your arm.”

He lets out a quiet “Tch” and raises his arm to rest over the back of your seat instead, “This better, brat?”

You nod your head as a blush creeps onto your cheeks, luckily hidden by the darkness in the room. When you relax back into your chair you can feel his arm pressing into the back of your neck and his fingers lightly graze against your shoulder. It feels… kinda comforting, you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to lean into his touch and your heart starts to pound at the thought.

You don’t dare to look at Sukuna, deciding to quietly enjoy the moment. Which is a real shame, because if you did look at him there’s a chance you’d catch the way he’s gnawing on his bottom lip with a face that looks almost as flustered as your own.

He might be enjoying this more than you are, and he might even be thinking that having to sit through this movie might not be so bad after all.

A/N: POV you and Sukuna are two idiots who are into each other but neither of you have the balls to do something about it. Also writing Sukuna’s POV for the narration was SO FUN!!! We love our delusional king who sees you god forbid smile at another person and immediately assumes you’re in love with them Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

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snekdood · 2 years ago

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honestly i should’ve known something was wrong with my abuser, aside from the many, and in retrospect, obvious red flags, like drawing rape porn, they also both told me some guy was a creep who essentially wanted to rape rich women and get them addicted to drugs to “ruin their lives” and then acted like this guy was shitty and that we should avoid him and then ALSO take me over to the place where he lived.

#vent #funniest and strangest part to me about that though is the guy called himself zero too #like. ig its zero if he was low income and actually had a reason to be resentful even though he's still getting 'justice' in the wrong way #but anyways its so weird to me idk. just such a coincidence i guess. idk. but honestly. it would be soooooooooo funny if i found out that #this guy and my abuser and plenty of other people from highschool were stalking me online all throughout highschool #and decided to pull some sort of weird fucked up kiwifarms shit on me like. that would be so deeply entertaining to me #like please. lay out the red carpet fro all the low life no life vapid and insecure pieces of shits who hide in the shadows to talk shit #that would be great #id love to find out if my suspicions were true. id be smiling with the most smuggest grin.#even if its not truie so many of yall are so fucking constrained by your internal cringe reaction that you cant let yourself breathe #i imagine it would take many shroom trips to make you realize you shouldnt give a fuck about what other people do or are like #i imagine you probably suck rn to trip around too if you're like this. oof.#imagine. tripping around someone who's so deeply insecure they cant even just let the trip overtake them and have fun #just over thinking the whole time. sad shit.

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malleleothreesome · 1 year ago

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Leona who is pining after you...

💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu

💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!

It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.

The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!

💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.

Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…

💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.

As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.

As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.

💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.

As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.

His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.

He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.

💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.

Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.

💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.

Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.

He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar smut #twst leona #twisted wonderland leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar angst #my writing

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waldau-archived · 5 months ago

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pipe dream — chwe hansol | 1,730 words | fluff

friends to lovers with vernon (again)!!! here's the writing exercise i did because my hands were freezing.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

“do you have your keys?”

you peel your eyes away from the movie you’re not really watching and look up at vernon. you couldn’t even tell the title if vernon asked.

vernon, who’s dressed in the most casual attire possible and still manages to look incredibly handsome as he stands in front of you, hands in the pockets of his jeans jacket.

“my…keys,” you repeat, focusing on not looking at his lips. you look at his eyes instead. maybe a second too late, because he raises his eyebrows.

“yeah,” he says, slowly. “keys. to our apartment. your set.”

our apartment. you ignore the tingle that runs through you at the possessive word. “i do, but…why?”

he sighs. “i left mine at seungkwan’s. he’s back in jeju right now and i don’t know when i’ll be back, so i don’t want to disturb you.”

“you mean you forgot yours. for the second time in the past few months.”

he raises his hands in surrender, a smile on his face. “not denying that.”

“what would you do without me?”

he pretends to think. “die, maybe. but can i have your keys? i promise i’m not going to lose them anywhere.”

you scrutinize him for a few moments. he probably thinks it’s under the pretense of wondering if you really want to give them to him, but you know you’d give them to him in a heartbeat. your hesitation is more about why he’s heading out tonight.

your mutual friend jeonghan’s set him on a blind date with a friend of a friend, and vernon’s heading out because he doesn’t have any other obligations. apart from your weekly movie night. which happens every saturday, without fail. you get a chance to pick a movie every other week. it’s your turn tonight, and while you usually love watching…spirited away, you remember, looking at the screen before looking back at him, it doesn’t seem that fun when you’re the only one on the sofa tonight.

it hurts that he’s okay with skipping movie night this time around. it always happens, even if either of you has to go somewhere the next day. it’s something that started out of boredom and has become an unspoken tradition.

but it doesn’t matter now. vernon’s going to go on a date with someone handpicked by jeonghan. someone who’s no wonder gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and the perfect match for him. he’s going to fall in love despite his whole i don’t fall in love easily at all shtick. and he’s going to go on even more dates, and move out, and maybe even marry—

“what if i say no?”

“either i wake you up from your sleep, or i spend the whole night freezing outside our door.”

you roll your eyes. vernon can be pretty dramatic when he needs to be. “i’m not that cruel. you can take my keys. they’re on my table.”

vernon’s eyes widen slightly. “really? i’ll get them, no worries,” he says, hand reaching out to push you back down into the sofa when you try to get to your feet. you shut your eyes for a moment at the touch, and he’s gone when you open them.

is it some kind of cosmically unlucky coincidence that jeonghan set vernon up on a date just days after you confessed your feelings about vernon to seungcheol? or is it some sort of conspiracy to get you jealous enough to confess to vernon, and then sit back and watch your life fall apart when he inevitably rejects you?

either way, it’s not going to work. there’s no magic than can possibly bring the two of you together.

a loud sound from the television startles you and makes you realize it’s been a minute or two since vernon’s been in your room. your mind first jumps to wonder whether you’ve left it in a mess, but you haven’t. your bed is neat, your laundry is washed and folded, and your desk is empty. you don’t have any journals dedicated to your feelings for him, thankfully. the notes app in your phone is a worthy substitute.

what the heck is he doing there, then?

“vern?” you call out, a bit uncertain. “aren’t they on the table?”

“yeah,” he calls out, and you hear his footsteps as he heads out of your room. “sorry. i got distracted.” he dangles your keys in front of you. “didn’t know you kept this,” he says, pointing to one of the keychains attached to the keys.

it’s a small mario figurine he’d given you for one of your birthdays. it’s eroded past the point of recognition, and the only reason you can tell it’s mario is because vernon had given it to you. specifically because of the sheepish smile he’d had as he caught you at the end of the party, apologizing for not being able to get a better gift in time. it’s still one of your most cherished gifts, and it’s even more valuable because vernon has a matching luigi keychain for his car keys.

“there wasn’t any reason for me to throw it away,” you point out.

vernon jerks his head to the side. “fair. also, you lied to me.”

“i…did? about?”

“not having this picture with you,” he says, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out a small polaroid. it’s too far to recognize anyone in it, but when he brings it closer to you, you swear you understand what people mean when they say their blood freezes.

it’s a picture of you and him at seungcheol’s last party, a few months ago. you’re sitting next to vernon, his hand around your shoulders and his head resting against yours. you don’t remember ever seeing him smile this much in a photo before. but he’d also been tipsy that night, which explains why he might’ve been like that. if it had been him and anyone else, it would have looked like a picture of a couple, but with you in it, it’s just two friends. nothing more.

the incriminating thing about the photo, however, isn’t the photo itself. it’s what’s written on the back. it says tell him you love him already! in soonyoung’s half-tidy scrawl. pipe dream, is what your reply was. i’ll tell him when he does first. because, obviously, he’d never do that.

you can’t bring yourself to meet vernon’s eyes, afraid of what he might say. the only reason the picture was ever pinned to your bulletin board was because you never expected him to see it there, and yet your worst fears have come true.

“if you’d shown me this earlier,” vernon says, placing the photo on your lap, “i wouldn’t have had to say yes to jeonghan hyung tonight.”

you don’t comprehend his words immediately, but he’s not upset. okay. you can deal with this. “why would it change—”

“because i love you.”

time stops, too. vernon is looking intently at you, his gaze never shifting as he reaches out for the remote and presses the pause button. that’s…kinda hot, you think, sinking into the sofa as much as you can. you’re done for.

“aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

“i…what? love you?”

“you’re going to have to sound more convincing if you want to make this dream reality.”

“i…love you?” you ask, swallowing.

“one more time?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of you. his hand reaches for yours.

this is vernon. your best friend, your roommate, and your only crush for the longest time ever. you can almost see seungkwan in your mind’s eye, urging you to say something.

“do i have to say it?” you ask, your grip on his hand tightening. “wasn’t the photo still being up there proof enough?”

“it was,” he says, that small smile you love so much gracing his lips, “but i’d like to hear it from you.”

“i…” dreaming of being able to say those words to him is one thing, but actually saying those words to him, knowing that he knows you love him feels…unlike anything you’ve felt before. you’re unable to meet his eyes.

again, this is vernon. you’ve shared a good number of embarrassing moments with him as your roommate, and yet…

“hm?”

“i love you,” you say, eyes shut, stomach feeling not unlike how it does at the precipice before the roller coaster falls towards the ground.

“you’re not even going to look at me?”

you’ve nearly said it thrice till now, and the more you say it, the easier it seems to get. especially when vernon wants you to say it to him. you open your eyes and glare at him. “fine. i love you, chwe vernon. i think you already knew it, but do with that what you will.”

vernon smiles that brilliant smile soonyoung had captured on camera months ago, and getting to see it directed at you feels amazing. “what i��m going to do, is apologize to jeonghan hyung,” he says, getting up to his feet.

“why? what about your date?”

“there’s someone else i’d like to have as my date.”

several hours later, when you’ve both watched a movie each of your choice, vernon leans against your shoulder while you wrap your blanket closer around the two of you.

“i thought i’d been clear that night,” he says. whispers, given how tired he sounds. you look down at the messy mop of hair resting on your shoulder. his hair’s gotten longer. when was the last time he’d gotten it cut? with little hesitation, you lift your hand and push his fringe back so it doesn’t cover his eyes.

“i thought you were tipsy.”

he huffs a laugh. self-depreciating. you know him well enough by now to be able to tell what he means. “liquid courage. i hoped you’d take a hint.”

you’d wanted to, so badly. vernon hadn’t left your side that night even once, and he held onto your hand all the way back home. you figured it had been for physical support.

apparently not.

you feel a surge of fondness run through you. you wish he could see it.

“vernon?”

“yeah?”

“i love you. i’m sorry i took this long to say it.”

you feel him press his cheek against your shoulder a little harder. he’s going to fall asleep soon.

“don’t be. i love you, too.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

#f2l supremacy.#seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #fluff #vernon #friends to lovers #waldau writes

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fruitcoral · 5 months ago

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GOOD LUCK CHARM

HSR || Aventurine x fem! Reader || smut

Synopsis: You are a pharmaceutical scientist who has been known as a walking good luck charm your entire life. Exhausted from working tirelessly and having to experience the bad luck of others, you decided to take a small vacation to Penacony, where you end up crossing paths with a certain gambler.

Since you've been young, you've been told you were a walking good luck charm.

But sadly, you only brought luck to others, not yourself.

You could remember all the times you've accidentally brought luck to others. Some are more appreciative than others. They, of course, never knew their bringer of luck was a random woman who had no other abilities.

The first time you brought luck to someone was your mother. You had scraped your knee one day while playing with some random children in one of the subareas of Central Starskiff Haven. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks as you threw your head back, wailing your little heart out until your mother scurried to your side in a panic. She comforted you, brushed away your tears, cleaned your wounds, and even placed a loving kiss on top of your bandaged knee. And just a few hours after that, she got the best news of her life. She got a promotion in her job that would pay her handsomely, securing both of you a comfortable life.

The second time was when you were comforting a new friend. They ranted to you about how they were on the verge of being homeless. As they bawled their little heart out, you pulled them into an awkward embrace and reassured them that everything was going to get better. Not even a day later, they arrived at your house with a toothy grin. Their eyes glimmered brightly as they relayed the good news to you. Their family had inherited a large sum of money, which not only paid off all of their debts but also left them with enough to last the next few years. After that, they disappeared, leaving nothing but a letter.

At first, you thought nothing of it and considered it to be a coincidence. But as strokes of luck continued to happen to people you had come in contact with, you realized it wasn't a coincidence, far from it, actually.

Sadly, you didn't have any luck to spare for yourself. It seemed like you took on everyone's stroke of bad luck. For with every stroke of good luck you experienced a horrendous amount of bad luck. For example, the last person you remember accidentally giving good luck too, you were almost crushed by a wooden crate that was carrying a heavy yet fragile item. It was honestly ironic and kind of funny.

Your mom constantly fretted over your well-being until she eventually moved. She got on the next airship and left for Herta's space station. Why? Well, not only was she offered a position to research her object of interest, but she also found it to be much safer than the Xianzhou Luofu. She also thought it was a great opportunity for you to build on your knowledge and possibly inspire you to research subjects relating to your ‘gift’.

Living on the space station was unique and did lead you to becoming a researcher of sorts. Although you didn't specialize in the subject of luck. Instead, you specialized in the topic of pharmaceutical medicine.

After getting injured after every stroke of good luck, you dedicated your time on that spaceship researching different types of medicine, their purpose, the benefits, the side effects, and the procedure on how certain medicine was created. You found it absolutely fascinating, far more fascinating than the conceptual research of good and bad luck.

After reaching adulthood, you left the spaceship under the guise of a pharmaceutical scientist. You have acquired the skills and knowledge. You spent days to months traveling from world to world, creating and distributing medicine for the ill, specifically for those who weren't as fortunate when it came to money. But, you also, as discreetly as possibly, gave them luck. You would remove your ivory gloves whenever handing them their medicine, making sure to graze their fingers with yours.

You worked tirelessly until you finally decided to take a small vacation. All the strokes of bad and good luck taking a toll on your body. You needed a break from being a walking good luck charm. So, with as much money as you could scrounge and with a fiery determination, you reserved a room in the Reverie Hotel months in advance.

The day you arrived at the hotel, you couldn't help but admire the many floors that stretched on for what seemed like miles. They were stacked upon one another until they practically touched the heavens. You admired the occupants, many dressed in clothing you couldn't afford. Even the staff was dressed nicely, which made you feel very underdressed.

You carefully approached the reception desk, making sure you didn't accidentally brush past someone, but it seemed luck wasn't on your side, which was pretty funny given your situation.

“Oh! I'm so sorry!” You apologized after accidentally bumping into a blonde who adorned extravagant yet colorful clothing. He was decked out in expensive jewelry that glimmered brightly underneath the large chandelier. The way he presented himself was similar to a peacock, especially since they were known for flashing their ethereal beauty in hopes of acquiring a mate. But in this man's case, it was probably to flaunt his status.

A wry smile enveloped his lips as he glanced down at you. He studied your form before averting his gaze. “It’s okay. It was just a mere accident.” He reassured with a wide smile. With a small dip of his hat, he excused himself, brushing past you and towards the elevator.

You watched him leave before shrugging and approaching the reception desk once more.

“Hello ma’am. Do you have a reservation with us today?”

You nervously responded, fidgeting, and you watched the attendant type your information into the system. You waited with bated breaths until the woman finally lifted her head with a professional smile. “Ah yes… Miss (Name), welcome to the Reverie Hotel. Here is your key, along with instructions on how to get to your room. If you have brought any more luggage, our bellhopper would gladly assist you in carrying them to your room.”

“No need.” You dismissed with a small smile before departing. You read the information on the small slip of paper while patiently waiting for the elevator. Once it arrived, you didn't hesitate to get on, press your floor number, and once again, wait for it to ascend to your desired floor.

After a few seconds, you finally arrived at your door and scanned the long extending hallways before deciding to go right. You checked each room number until you eventually found yours.

You didn't even waste a second in kicking off your shoe, dropping your luggage by the entrance and shrugging off your coat. You approached the dreampool, a large clam filled to the brim with glowing blue water. You hesitantly dipped a foot in, taking in the temperature. But, you were surprised to know that there was neither a heat nor a coldness that radiated from the liquid. You can feel it brushing against your skin, but it didn't even feel wet.

Ignoring any fear or doubt that surfaced, you lowered yourself into the liquid, allowing it to submerge your body in its watery tendrils. You made sure the back of your head was pressed against the shell and lifted above the water. You laid there until a soothing feminine voice echoed throughout your room. instructing you on what to do and guiding you into a peaceful slumber

When you opened your eyes, you were in front of a large building that greatly resembled the entrance of the Reverie Hotel. Your jaw dropped as you spun, admiring the sights. The beautiful bright colors, the vehicles, the stalls, the stores, and the people. It was absolutely breathtaking. You have never seen something like this before, and you were confident that you'll never see something that rivaled the dreamscape's beauty.

You wandered around aimlessly until you ended up in front of a casino. You knew that with your luck, you wouldn't win anything, but it wouldn't hurt to try! So, with a grin, you entered and were instantly greeted with a sickeningly sweet floral scent.

The loud sound of music drowning out the ecstatic cheers and howls of gamblers hurt your ears. But, it didn't deter you. You continued until you found a counter that exchanged money for chips. You only had a certain amount on you, but it was enough to last you a couple of games.

So, for what seemed like hours, you gambled all of your money away. Indulging in the delicious food and the addicting alcohol that traveled down your throat quite smoothly. It was sweet yet tangy with a little kick to it. With every drink, you could feel your mind becoming cloudy with every passing second. Your body became warm, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes hazy. You swayed with every step you took. Yet, you still retained some semblance of consciousness.

Alluring eyes watched your every movement. They watched as your figure brushed past people and just a few seconds later said the person had a sudden stroke of luck. They watched in mild amusement as you leaned over someone hitting their head against the panel of the slot machine while crying their heart out. You tug off your ivory gloves and brush your hand against their arm, while whispering reassuring words into their ears. You persuaded them to try once more and not even a second later they hit a jackpot.

Before they could thank you, you already disappeared. Wandering through the casino before finding a spot at a roulette table with a glass of alcohol in hand. You giggled as you counted the chips you had remaining. Just as you had expected, you weren't lucky in your bets. You have lost quite a sum of money and have resorted to drowning your disappointment away with booze. Regardless of this fact, you continued to place one or two bets and then dip.

Just as you were about to place a few chips on your desired color and number, you were stopped by a young man. His gloved hands enveloped your wrist and guided your hand to place a bet on the opposite color than the one you were going to bet on. Your brows furrowed as you averted your gaze to the dirty blonde who had the audacity to grab you without your consent.

Just as you were about to complain, your words died on your tongue as you locked eyes with captivatingly beautiful eyes. Their color was unique yet so breathtaking.

A sly smile formed on the man's lips as he released your wrist. He moved his head to the side so that his ears could graze your ear with every word that left his lips. “It’s best if you bet on red during this round.” Was all he whispered to you as he leaned away and placed his own chips by your own.

You didn't utter a word in response. Instead, you remained silent as you studied him. The clothing he adorned was only familiar until it finally clicked. It was the man you had accidentally bumped into at the reception hall of the hotel. Although, currently, he wasn't adorning his hat or his sunglasses.

“Congratulations ma'am.”

“Huh..?” Shifting your gaze to the Croupier, you were shocked to see her sliding more chips in your direction with a smile. You blinked a couple of times, trying to process what had just happened before you let out a noise of surprise.

You glanced at the man beside you, wanting to thank him but he merely introduced himself with a smile before you had a chance to say anything.

“We have yet to introduce each other. My name is Aventurine, and what may your name be, beloved?”

“...(Name). Nice to meet you.”

For the rest of the game, he guided you on where to place your bet and every time you won. At one point, after many drinks, you decided you had made enough and were leaning against Aventurine.

You don't know when, but you had taken off your gloves and had one of your hands pressed against his chest. At the same time, he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close to him.

With every win, he would tilt his head to the side and shower you with compliments, referring to you as his rabbit foot. His lucky charm. Each compliment was uttered in a sultry tone, sending chills down your spine. His hand ran up and down, his fingers occasionally dancing against your clothed waist.

This continued for hours until Aventurine decided he was satisfied with the sum of money he had won and had departed with you in his arms. He held you close to him, uttering words of praise that would cause you to bristle and your skin to grow warm. Your hands were clammy as you struggled to maintain your hold on him. You stumbled and swayed, occasional giggles leaving your lips when his hair grazed your cheeks.

Your ears rung, struggling to catch what Aventurine said to the nearest employee of the casino. All you could catch was “private room” and the rest was unintelligible.

With a wide smile, the dirty blonde guided your giggling figure to one of the many private rooms of the casino. Why? Well…he was curious to learn more about you and your gift. How have you managed to possess such an extravagant blessing? One that many wished to possess. Were you loved by the God's? Perhaps. Or were you just lucky? That could be another possibility.

Thanking the attendant who opened the door for them, he guided you to the nearest couch, helped you sit, before sitting down beside you. Maintaining one hand on your waist, he placed the other on your thigh, gently massaging the exposed skin with a sly smile. He leaned closer to your ear, relishing the expression that morphed on your face when his lips brushed against the shell of your ears once again. He whispered sweet nothings to you, buttering you up until you got comfortable. Until you were vulnerable and willing to answer his questions.

leaning back, Aventurine studied your form with a pleased look. He then proceeded to ask his questions. At first, you hesitated yet…with every question, you slowly started to open up more and more until you finally started to blabber. There were moments where your speech was somewhat unintelligible and was just dunk babble, but in other moments, your responses were unexpectedly detailed.

In the meantime, he continued his ministrations such as kneading your thighs, massaging your waist, and whispering into your ears. He kept going until he was pleased with the answers he got.

When he let go of you so that he could rise from his spot, he was caught off guard by the tight grip that enveloped his wrist. He couldn't even get a word in when he was suddenly pulled back and pinned against the couch.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering as he watched you straddle him, tightening your grip on his arm. You mumbled something underneath your breath as you lowered your head until it was pressed against his collarbone.

He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was caught off guard. Sure, he touched you in ways that could possibly cause the situation to escalate, but he really didn't expect someone who was far too lost in the euphoric haze to react.

“You…You can't leave yet. Y-You have to take respon…sibility.” You muttered as you raised your head, brows furrowed as you glared up at him. “I'm not as drunk as you think I am. Y-You've been…leading me on this entire time. So you…you have to take responsibility!” Your grip around his wrist loosened so that you could place your hands on his chest. You played with the edges of his chest window while simultaneously grinding against him.

Aventurine let out a small chuckle as he studied your figure before placing a hand on your waist. “Are you sure you want me to take responsibility?”

“Yes.” Was all you said before you pressed your lips against his. Your hands traveled down his body as you deepened the kiss. Your rear pressed against his crotch while you nibbled on his bottom lip.

At first, Aventurine hesitated before he softened into the kiss. He returned it with just as much fever and intensity. He returned the favor, biting down on your bottom lip.

A few minutes passed before the dirty blonde leaned back to regain his breath, but you didn't allow him to catch a break. You dove back into a case and slithered your tongue into his mouth, which caught him off guard. His eyes widened as his hands stiffened on your waist. He flinched when you guided his tongue to your lips before sucking on the muscular organ, eliciting a groan from him.

His breath hitched in his throat when you began grinding down on him once more. He could feel his body get warmer and his pants start to constrict, forming a tent around his bulge. Aventurine couldn't even say or do anything because the moment you noticed, you pulled back from the kiss and stared down at the bulge with a smirk.

Fumbling with the belt, you undid it, pulled down his pants and brushed your palm against the bulge.

Aventurine's body became rigid, his eyes wide as a small groan slipped past his trembling lips. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He just laid there, watching as you rubbed his bulge, pressing a sharp nail against the clothed tip.

Giggling to yourself, you continued to rub his bulge through his boxers, leaning forward so you could capture his lips into a kiss once more.

He struggled to maintain his composure or return the kiss. His lips trembled way too much, and he couldn't stop the moans that left his throat. Pleasured chills traveled down his spine when you massaged his tongue with your own. You greedily swallowed the noises he made.

A loud moan soon left his lips when you freed his dick from the tight confines of his boxers. “W-Wai-hngh!” Aventurine threw his head back with a loud moan when you enveloped your fingers around his shaft in a semi-tight hold. You pumped your fist, watching in mild amusement as the blonde haired man writhed underneath you. His shoulders trembled, and his lips quivered.

No matter how hard he bit down on his bottom lip or tongue, he couldn't restrain the loud noises that he made. And they merely got louder when you released your hold on his length and crawled back until your lips were hovering above his dick.

“I'm not r-ready…agh!” Aventurine groaned when you licked the slit, lapping up the salty precum that bubbled and spilled from his slit. You lapped it up like it was the most delicious thing in the world. Then, when he least expected it, you lowered your mouth onto the tip of his dick, sucking and twirling your tongue around it. After a few seconds, you lowered yourself further until the tip of your nose was pressed against his pelvis. The tip of his dick pressing against the back of your throat, causing it to restrict around his length, eliciting a loud gasp and groan from the blonde.

You stayed there for a few more painful seconds before you lifted your head until your lips enveloped only the tip. You lapped up his precum once more before you began bobbing your head. The noises that you made, the way your flattened tongue rubbed against his dick, and the way your throat constricted around him drove Aventurine absolutely wild.

One hand was draped over his eyes while the other positioned itself on the back of your head. He grasped at the back of your head for dear life while he bucked into your mouth. His moans and pleas grew in volume as he practically pistoned himself into your mouth, trying to chase his high.

And when his core was enveloped with an overwhelming warmth, his hips stuttered. Your throat constricted around him once more as he swelled and grew in length until finally, he released himself into your mouth. You, without missing a beat, swallowed his load in greedy gulps while leaning back, a hand positioned underneath your chin to catch any seven that managed to slip out of your mouth.

Aventurine couldn't bring himself to move. He was exhausted. His body twitched and trembled. He tried to process what had just happened, but you didn't allow him to.

Taking advantage of his temporary haze, you stripped yourself naked, kicking off your underwear and throwing your constricting bra to the floor. You shuddered at the cold wind that grazed your flushed skin.

“(N-Name)!” Aventurine gasped as he watched you wrap your fingers around his hardened length once more, pumping your hand while your free hand grazed your folds. He watched as you played with yourself, your hips bucking as moans spilled from your lips. When you tighten your grip around his dick, he can't help but gasp, thrusting into your hand.

At this point in time, he was far too lost in the pleasure and pain. The way you played with his sensitive dick drove him absolutely wild. It made his head cloudy and his knees weak. His hands shook as he tried to grab your arm, but he was only met with failure. Aventurine could just watch through bleary vision as you prepared yourself while simultaneously playing with him.

His voice died in his throat, his breath hitching in his throat as he watched you hover yourself over his throbbing dick, guiding it to your weeping entrance. Aventurine couldn't bring himself to protest, far too lost to even think of the consequences. But he did feel aggravated watching as you teased him with a smirk.

So, taking advantage of the fact that you were preoccupied, he lifted his quivering arms, grabbed your rear, and slammed you down onto him.

You let out a noise of surprise, falling onto the blonde in shock. Your knees quivered, and your lips parted. Slowly, the pleasure crept in, washing away the pain from the sudden penetration. You wanted to speak, but all that came out was unintelligible blabber. You splattered and moaned as Aventurine held you in place for a few more seconds before he started thrusting into you.

His thrusts were fast, yet they had no tempo. He merely moved with vigor, caring less if you felt pleasure in his movement. Aventurine dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks as he continued to thrust into you like a wild animal.

It hurt…but it was so good. The pleasure outweighs the pain. The way his dick slammed against your walls drove you wild and weak. You could hardly even think anymore. You couldn't process what was occurring and just laid there as Aventurine drilled into you.

Aventurine let out a moan as he felt a familiar warmth envelop his pelvic area. His core. And, treating it like an incentive, his pace increased along with the harshness of his thrust. The way your warm walls tightened around him caused him to grit his teeth and throw his head back. His nails dug into your skin, leaving crescent marks.

But, when he brushed past a certain area, you seemed to tighten more around him until you started to practically strangle his dick. He gasped in shock, his eyes widening in surprise before hissing. Tears bubbled in his eyes while he whispered from the pain and the pleasure, and yet he didn't let it deter him.

Aventurine continued to brush against your g-stop, causing your eyes to roll behind your head. Although, the moment he started to swell, that was when you truly felt bliss. His thrusts became sloppy, yet they still maintained their ferocity. And, by the way he swelled and the loud moans, you knew he was close.

The both of you soon threw your head backs, your moans loud enough that they could be heard by the others outside, but you could care less.

Your walls tightened around Aventurine's dick, spasming as you came, the heat in your core growing in intensity, practically scorching you from the inside. Aventurine soon joined you with a whimper, tears streaming down his as he held you in place, spilling his sperm into your pussy, which practically milked him.

While trying to catch your breath, you lifted yourself off of Aventurine, elbows shaking as they struggled to maintain your weight. You moved to get off of the blonde, but out of nowhere, he grabbed your waist and soon pinned you against the couch. Your eyes widened as you glanced up at Aventurine before your gaze slowly traveled down to stare at his dick, watching as it slowly came to life once more, growing in length.

Aventurine threw your legs over his shoulders and positioned himself to your entrance once more. His lips curled into a wide smile as he cupped the back of your neck. Lowering his head, his lips grazed yours as he spoke, “we're not done yet.”

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