#like. if you were there enough times to notice this '''pattern''' you would have also noticed we frequently reblog from each other lol

[iseos]

LET THEM KNOW

─── idol!enhypen x gn!reader s. how your relationship is revealed 769 words (~110 each) g. headcannons, fluff w! occasional idol!reader | © iseos library

이희승 — LEE HEESEUNG

— it happened during a livestream. sunoo and jake were live together at their dorm when sunoo read out comment asking about the oldest member. "heeseung? oh, yeah, he's out with his partner, right?" jake said as he looked for something on his phone, seemingly forgetting what the two of them were doing. the chat stilled for a moment before it exploded with thousands of messages as sunoo let out a quiet 'what?' jake nodded and continued to dig himself a bigger hole, "yeah, he's with y/n." it wasn't until he looked up and was met with sunoo’s wide eyes that he realized what he said.

박종성 — JAY PARK

— for weeks fans have noticed a pattern in your and jay's weverse activity. at first, it seemed like a coincidence—one of you posting a song, the other sharing a similar one, or a playlist that had strikingly similar themes. you posted a melancholic ballad with a caption that fans didn't pay much attention to. however, just a few hours later jay shared a song along with a caption that seemingly was responding to yours. it didn't take long for a few observant fans to dig through past posts and notice a pattern of what looked like the two of you were indirectly communicating through song recommendations. while your relationship was never officially announced, it was enough confirmation for fans that something was going on between the two of you.

심재윤 — JAKE SIM

— your relationship was a closely guarded secret, known by only those closest to the two of you. however, things took a turn when one of your friends posted a photo to their public instagram—one that clearly showed you and jake in the background. the photo left no doubt about the status of your relationship, and even though the account didn't have many followers, fans still managed to come across it. despite the immediate scramble to delete the post, screenshots had already gone viral and everyone had seen it.

박성훈 — PARK SUNGHOON

— rumors began surrounding sunghoon when a news outlet claimed he was spotted on a date with an actress. fans were in shock, articles were full of headlines making the same claim, and the company was quick to issue a statement, “we regret to inform that the claims made regarding sunghoon and the actress are completely unfounded and inaccurate.” however, in their hurry to deny the claims, the company added: “we can also confirm sunghoon is in a committed relationship with another individual, who he has been dating for some time. we respectfully ask for the public’s understanding during this time.” in their rush to distance sunghoon from the actress, the company inadvertently confirmed your relationship, a detail that had been previously unknown to fans.

김선우 — KIM SUNOO

— it was the last thing anyone was expecting. an ordinary day disrupted by the company statement confirming your relationship that read: "we would like to officially confirm that y/n and enhypen's sunoo have been in a relationship for several months now. we kindly ask for your continued support and respect for their privacy." the message, while straightforward enough, left fans reeling. most were excited, flooding social media with positive reactions, while others were shocked, trying to process the announcement.

양정원 — YANG JUNGWON

— on new year's eve, the world was focused on fireworks and celebrations, but for k-pop fans their focus was on the highly anticipated dispatch couple reveal. as midnight approached, many people were expecting to see the names of two actors, but they were instead surprised with your and jungwon’s names. pictures accompanied the claim as well, of course. there were photos of the two of you going out to eat while wearing nondescript clothing, and others of either one of you walking into the other's company building; it was enough to solidly convince fans that you were undeniably dating.

西村力 — NISHIMURA RIKI

— it started with a single fan’s post. the fan had been out shopping when they noticed two familiar figures browsing through racks at a high-end clothing store. the two of you were dressed casually, both wearing caps and masks, but your body language was unmistakable. you laughed together, occasionally holding up items for the other to see, and at one point you held a jacket up against niki to check the fit. the fan, stunned, quickly took a discreet photo and posted it online. the post gained traction immediately and within hours, it had snowballed into a collection of sightings. fans began piecing together a timeline of occasions where the two of you were seen together. the rumor was never addressed directly, but the increasing sightings with less protection to hide your identities only added fuel to the fire.

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 6

you kissed caitlin aggressively, you were desperate to touch her again. you moved your hand between her legs. she was completely soaked through her underwear. fuck was that all from flirting and touching you?

“caity are you wet from touching me?” you traced patterns on the outside of her underwear. the underwear needed to go

“mmm yes pretty girl. you make me so wet” her admission made your eyes roll to the back of your head. this amazing girl who could be with whoever she wants was wet for you. so wet for you. you pulled her underwear down her gorgeous legs and threw them off the bed, she can find them later. you kissed her deeply as you put your fingers inside her. she moaned into your mouth. you moved to kiss her neck so you could hear her pretty moans. you moved your fingers as you kissed and sucked at her neck. you made sure not to suck too hard. she wasn’t photographed today but you didn’t want her to have marks in case she was recognized tomorrow

you alternated between curling your fingers and moving them in and out of her. judging by her moans of encouragement and the way she was gripping your hair, she was enjoying your fingers. her beautiful moans got louder as you continued to work on her. you could listen to those pretty noises forever. she came on your fingers with a tight grip on your hair. you moved away from her neck to look at her face. her face was flushed and her eyes were blown out. she was completely fucked out and you loved it. you looked her in the eyes as you brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean

“you taste so fucking good” she whimpered at your words and you knew you needed to hear those noises again. you considered spending time kissing her thighs but decided against it. unless you were totally reading the situation wrong, this wasn’t a one time thing you could spend time on her thighs later. plus you teased her enough this morning. you put your face between her legs, moving both of her muscular thighs over your shoulders. you sucked on her clit softly, she just came and you didn’t want her to get overstimulated. those soft moans and sweet whimpers that left her mouth this morning returned. she makes the prettiest noises, you know nobody else would be able to compare. you moved between licking her pussy and sucking on her clit

“i’m close pretty girl keep going” you moved your hand to her clit and licked her pussy, making sure she was stimulated enough to finish but not overstimulated. caitlin gripped aggressively at your hair and finished with a loud moan of your name. you let her ride out her orgasm on your face then cleaned her up with your tongue

“can you give me the washcloth? i want to make sure you are fully clean” she handed you the washcloth from the nightstand. you used it to gently clean her and she smiled

“i’ve been thinking about this for years” her words made your face heat up

“why didn’t you say anything? we could’ve been fucking for four years?!”

“i told you, i didn’t know you liked girls for like three years. i had no idea until i saw you kissing that girl. why didn’t you say anything?”

“i thought you weren’t interested” you admitted

“the pushing the beds together and cuddling didn’t tip you off?” you hung your head in shame. looking back it was probably something you should’ve noticed

“i thought you were being friendly and it might’ve been weird because we were teammates” you said honestly “then when we weren’t teammates anymore you had that thing with connor and i thought i missed my window. also what happened with that?”

“i should’ve said something when i found out you were bi so it’s not all on you but i was also nervous about the teammate thing” caitlin’s tone switched from serious to light “oh connor. that was a mess”

“you never said what happened it was just over. what kind of mess?” caitlin started laughing

“we were going to hook up and he took his shirt off. i started laughing at his hideous chest tattoos. he got pissy and ran away” you joined caitlin in her laughter

“they really are hideous! well don’t worry i won’t get any terrible tattoos. promise” you smiled at her

“well since you promised, that means you should probably be my girlfriend” she smiled wide. there were those dimples again. you nodded enthusiastically

“yes of course i’ll be your girlfriend” you leaned in and pecked her on the lips “can you hold me?” caitlin nodded. you got back into the tv watching position again, except this time you both knew what it meant. your phone rang, it was a facetime from kate. you looked at caitlin and she nodded. you answered the phone with the camera facing the ceiling

“hi i’m so sorry but i have to know. are you guys together or hooking up or what?” kate asked frantically. you moved your phone so kate could see you in caitlin’s indiana fever shirt and caitlin with her arm around your chest

“hi kate” caitlin said shyly

“i fucking knew it!”

[swallowtail-ageha]

Okay since someone got so upset that I "slop my drama" onto you that they had to send me an anon hate for that here is another funny story:

So one time one of the sheep that gobbled up Alfred's propaganda against me attempted to troll me by sending me ask that said 'trans micolash' (I loved him more than other characters back then and they tried to """upset""" me with this ask). I responded with really interesting and elaborate deep dive into Micolash's relationship with biological gender and deifying concepts of birth and talked about both transfem and transmasc potential for him, and then my response ACTUALLY upset ANOTHER user who wrote me 13 comments long rant on why "there is no proof 🤓" that Micolash is trans in any way shape or form

HELPPPP???

Oh god i think i do remember? Vaguely? Seeing ur trans micolash post on the dash but also my memory is kinda shit lmao so i dont remember the specifics of it lol

But the other unrelated guy jumping in his hilariousss like bro why are you so pressed about a trans headcanom 😭😭😭

[dewgongs]

:stare:

[nataliedecorsair]

I wanted to give you some of Pticenoga's Borderlands AU backstory, how she was raised by Shade and before starting her shenanigans with Vaughn.

Plus a bonus comic about how she decided to set up a meeting for Vaughn and Shade, but didn't tell Vaughn who is supposed to be there x) Mostly because Vaughn has met Shade before in his macabre World of Curiosities museum and thought that Shade is too weird for him. Well, that's the kind of person that would raise a feral harpy siren, gotta deal with it!

When she was very young, nothing bothered her much as she was just a wild baby exploring the world x) And Shade was a good father figure to her. However, as she grew older, she realized that she doesn't really "fit in": yeah, Pandora is a crazy planet, but not every person there is crazy. There are plenty of "regular folk" like Shade or other people from their town - and many others. And she was frequently called a monster, a mutant and many other things by the regular kids and even adults. She was wild though, could bite them or fight with them in a pretty feral manner, and, even though she protected herself, it didn't help the situation much. She wasn't crazy enough (and too small) to fit in with the psychos or bandits, was "too human" for actual monsters living on Pandora, and for a long time she had no idea she was a Siren, as even for Sirens she looked too different. Only when she hit her teens, she was able to confirm that she is one, started using her powers, and in her human form she could see the full extension of the glowing pattern she had on her skin. She still, however, didn't know why she wasn't born "normal", and there were no older Sirens around.

At some point, she decided to become independent and live on her own. Her "wild" upbringing was helping that a lot, and she felt fine being away from people. She'd still visit Shade frequently, of course, and at some point she'd even met Zer0 and could hang out with him for some time. As Zer0 is a mystery himself, they had some common ground between them (though constantly listening to his haiku were exhausting xD). Sadly, Vault Hunters attract attention, not always positive, and that was the reason why she got spotted by a big bandit gang (could be the beginning of Vallory's gang, but before she took over). And local scientists like Tannis already declared that there may be some connection between Sirens and the Vaults. And they noticed that she's a Siren, but also pretty young (and dumb). After the first Vault on Pandora was opened, there was plenty of weird and valuable stuff around, but it wasn't so easy to get it when you're just regular bandits. And when Eridians, the aliens that are guarding the Vault, are everywhere. The Sirens like Lilith were too strong for them, and hiring a Vault Hunter is expensive, so they decided to wriggle into her favor and use her to gain access to the area. She didn't know she was dealing with bandits first, she naively thought it's a rare case of nice fellows just wanting to be friends and such, plus the Vault could have answers about her origin, and the new "friends" confirmed it.

At some point, she realized she was being used, and got into a fight with the bandits - and lost, as there were too many of them, and she had too little experience, and they knew about Shade. She got kidnapped and told that she'd do everything they told her to do, or they'd kill Shade, so she had to obey. She helped them to fight the way to the Vault and get some of the riches, and during the process she felt that she really does have a connection with Eridians - they boosted her powers and helped her to get free, and kill every presenting member of the gang. She was worried about Shade though, so she left immediately to find him before the remaining members found out what happened and could harm him. But she was too late - the water source in their town of Oasis was poisoned, and every single person there died. Except Shade though - he lasted longer, but dehydration made him insane, and he turned corpses into the stuffed dummies he could talk to (though she didn't have much of a problem with this part). As she was gone for at least several months, he didn't believe she's real, and she had to adapt to the new reality.

She never got back to the Vault after that as she felt it was a source of more trouble than anything good (in her view, the price was too much for a bunch of physical stuff).

That lasted for years, and became a bit easier as her powers, enhanced by the Eridians, wasn't only serving the destruction,  but could eventually "heal" some part of Shade's mind, so the moments of clarity became more frequent (she didn't know it's the reason, though). And you still need money, whether you like it or not, so, when Shade decided to use his World of Curiosities as a spot of illegal deals and smuggling, she didn't resist, but would watch over him in the shadows in case something goes wrong.

Eventually, she calmed down and just embraced herself. And, after some time, she met Vaughn, whose personal struggles she could sense right away, as she had to experience "being different" herself.

[sirfrogsworth]

If you have seen Ted Lasso you may have noticed these unusual microphones used by the football commentators.

Despite being a microphone nerd, I had never seen anything like them before. So I decided to go into research mode and discovered these microphones are quite fascinating.

They are called "Lip-Ribbon" or "Commentator's" microphones.

They were specially designed by the BBC in the 1950s for extremely noisy environments. Soccer Football stadiums have peaked at 130 decibels so they needed something that would not get overwhelmed in that circumstance.

They use several very clever techniques to make sure only the voice is picked up and everything else is rejected.

First, they use a bidirectional polar pattern.

That means it will accept sound from two directions, but reject any sound coming in from the sides. And since the diaphragm is only exposed on one side, that helps reject sound coming from the other direction.

Next, the microphone is not very sensitive so you literally have to hold it up to your lips (hence "lip-ribbon") in order for your voice to have enough sound energy to vibrate the diaphragm.

That top part rests directly on your lip and there is a little pop filter to keep your plosives in check.

There is a built-in high pass filter so it rejects any sound below the frequencies typically used by the human voice.

But my favorite trick... a labyrinthian internal baffle system.

(I found a diagram of this when researching but then I lost the tab and I cannot find it again. So you'll just have to accept this crude photoshop I did in 30 seconds to help you understand.)

Sound is energy. And that energy is diminished the farther it travels. The inverse square law for sound states that the intensity of sound decreases by approximately 6 dB for each doubling of distance from the sound source. Sound also diminishes when it reflects off a surface.

That is a very sciency way of saying... make sounds go through a tiny maze and only sounds with the most energy will prevail.

So if you have your lip pressed up against the front of the mic, your voice's energy will make it through the labyrinth of baffles without issue. But every other sound in the stadium will have a much harder time getting through.

These mics may even be vuvuzela-proof.

And even more amazing... this microphone was designed in the 1950s and they have yet to create anything better for incredibly noisy environments.

Isn't that neat?

I think it is neat.

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

“The Captain’s beloved…wait, what?!”

Capitano x Gender Neutral Reader one shot

Work count: 2.2k

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship

Rating: General Audiences

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: The fatui discover that their Captain does, in fact, have a life outside of work and gossip between the ranks ensues. (Cue silly fatui shenanigans)

Ao3 Link

Capitano, the Fatui’s first lord and harbinger, contrary to popular belief, was respected and admired by his platoons rather than feared. There was a widespread misunderstanding both in and outside the organization that the Captain was a harsh and dangerous leader due to his mysterious nature. However, the people who worked under him knew better as they had grown to admire him the more they interacted with him.

He held himself with pride and treated his soldiers the same way he wanted to be treated: with respect and dignity. And in return, they learned the depths of this man’s strategic genius and strength. His strength was unmatched in combat and led his people well with good decision making and training. They could only hope to be as good as him in his various fields of expertise.

He was strict, and quick to discipline unruly fatuus, yes, but that did not stop others under his command from admiring him. And to emphasize this even more, it was clear that his fellow harbingers and even the Tsarista respected him, whether their goals and morals aligned with his or not. However, this made the people around him curious about aspects related to him outside of his work and title. He was a revered public figure and people were naturally curious about his personal life.

This is where you came in. You, his one and only beloved, the only person who held his whole heart in your hands. Not many people knew of this, but the Captain was a gentle man at his core, and you had somehow managed to uncover all of his being and see him fully as himself, without his title, without his strength. You knew this man inside and out, just as he had come to know you. It was a mutual love, one which even he did not know he was capable of feeling, and that made him all the more enamored with you.

This, however, people did not know. So you can imagine the surprise on their faces when you, an ordinary civilian, came to the Zapalyarny Palace and asked for directions to the Captain’s office. The clerk at the desk looked at you blankly, as if she were staring at an anomaly. This prompted you to try and explain yourself.

“..I’m here to drop off his lunch. So, if you don’t mind..?” You asked.

No response. The blank stare continued.

You already knew that you looked out of place in this grand palace with no Fatui uniform or mask on. But you were determined to make sure your beloved got his lunch, which you had specifically decided to make for him that day as a special treat for how hard he had been working while preparing for a business trip to Natlan.

“Excuse me..?” You said a little louder this time. That seemed to snap her back to reality.

“You cannot enter this place, only authorized personnel are allowed inside. If you’d like to meet our lord, please book your appointment accordingly.” She replied on autopilot, as if she’d rehearsed the same sentence multiple times.

“I’m sorry, I know you have your duties, but I’m here just to drop off his lunch. You can check with him yourself if you’d like..”

“He’s busy at the moment, please leave your package here and we will deliver it to him.” She replied. It seemed like you were being studied like a suspicious person who was attempting to sneak in.

Fair enough.. you thought. I was hoping I would get to spend a few minutes with him and see how he was holding up at work but that can wait till he’s home. And she’s not wrong, I did drop by without notice, so it makes sense for them to be suspicious.

Fatui soldiers passing by had also been glancing at the ongoing conversation at the front desk, eyeing the lunch box wrapped in patterned cloth in your hands with raised eyebrows. You decided to leave the food there, getting one last word in before leaving.

“If you could, please make sure it reaches him soon. It’s his favorite meal and I would prefer it didn’t go cold before he ate it.”

And then everyone watched as your ordinary self left, unaware of the number of eyes on you.

…

A pyroslinger skirmisher stationed near the entrance asked dumbfoundedly, “Did..did they just say that was the Captain’s favorite meal? Our lord harbinger?”

A cryogunner skirmisher who had also watched the whole thing go down as he clocked in asked another question right after, in the same state of confusion as the previous fatuus. “..Has anyone seen them around before? They don’t look like someone who would be seen standing next to Lord Capitano.”

And as the just as confused clerk left the scene towards his office with your goods in hand, excited chatter filled the halls.

Chaos would be the right word for it. You had left chaos in your wake with a simple visit to his workplace.

…

That night, as you and Capitano settled in to relax in your shared home after a long day of work, you asked him how his lunch was.

“It was delicious, my love.” He replied, gently caressing your face with his hands while looking down at you through his mask. “It felt like a treat to have your home cooked meal at work. You didn’t have to, but thank you. It made my day.”

You smiled and took his hands in yours as you nuzzled into his touch. “I’m glad you liked it. I was going to give it to you myself but I couldn’t enter the place.”

“You should visit more often. I’ll let the security personnel know to let you enter so you can come and go as you like.” He paused, clearing his throat. “..Seeing you in the middle of a long day would bring me relief.”

You felt slightly flushed at his straightforward choice of words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being so..open with me. But I like it, of course. I would like that as long as I’m not disturbing you at work.”

Capitano chuckled. It was like the angels decided to bless you today, really. “I will always make time for you, my love. Just as you do for me.”

You beamed. “Okay, okay, let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Loverman. We still have work tomorrow in case you’re forgetting.”

A kiss on the forehead and the rustling of sheets was all you heard before you were whisked away to dreamland.

…

Unbeknownst to you and Capitano, however, word about you spread like wildfire across the next few days between the excited fatui soldiers. Some from even the different departments under the other harbingers might’ve heard. The person who looked like a civilian, dropping lunch packed in pretty cloth for their Lord did not go unnoticed.

This was the only time someone unrelated to work had been seen asking for their Captain and questions about your relation to him were on the tip of everyone’s tongue during break times.

Two fatuus gossiped as they watched the Captain spar in training with his fellow soldiers, admiration evident in their eyes.

“Someone dropped off lunch for him? I thought he would be too busy having meals with high rankers from across Teyvat.”

And after a short pause the other replied, “Dude, hold on, does he even eat? I thought he was superhuman or something.”

“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were that dumb, my guy.”

“Hey! Just saying… anyway, are we even sure the people weren’t hallucinating when they saw the person drop lunch off for him?”

“I heard it was his favorite meal, freshly cooked, apparently. Who knows, man? Maybe it was a fan or something. Our lord does have a pretty big following, y’know.” The fatuus stated proudly.

Their lively chatter continued until they were called back into training.

…

A few days later, as soon as you found the time, you decided to visit Capitano at work with yet another home cooked meal. You wanted to make most of your time with him before he traveled to Natlan and having meals together would be a good way to wind down a little.

You entered the palace yet again, determined to meet him this time. It should be fine, right? He did say he would inform them..

And as you had hoped so, he did, in fact, inform them. As soon as the same clerk from before saw you, it seemed like her eyes were bulging out of her sockets. All you had to do was reach the desk and she confirmed your name and led you to the training grounds, where he was currently working. It seemed like some sort of training session was in the works, with all kinds of combat taking place between the soldiers in the distance.

Before you could ask her if you were even allowed to enter this place, she bowed and hurried back in the direction of the front desk. The strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you but now you had to find your way to Capitano across the opposite side of the field. Since you were here at last, why not just see things through?

The middle of the field was the most densely occupied with various people fighting in different groups, while what you recognised as skirmishers were practicing their aim at dummy targets on the right side. The soldiers were hard at work even in the harsh everlasting winter of Snezhnaya. The left side of the field, however, seemed less crowded compared to the rest as people seemed to be setting up their gear or resting. Your Captain, opposite to you across the field, was busy conversing with a group of soldiers who seemed to be listening to him attentively.

You decided your best option was to take the left side. It would be easier to walk through the calm atmosphere over there.

As you made your way through the crowd, people started to notice you. They were pretty intimidating with their weapons and muscled bodies at display so you decided to be extra careful to not bump into anyone and quickly made your way across, and as you got closer, Capitano’s voice became clear.

“The heat in Natlan will be unbearable. You will be stationed in the wild all day, so make sure you have the appropriate supplies to get you through the day. It is of the utmost importance that...what, what is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

The group’s attention shifted from him to you, as you stood behind him and tapped his shoulder.

“Capitano, do you have a moment..?” You asked as he turned around, his armor clinking from the movement.

“Oh, my love!” He exclaimed in a soft voice. “What brings you here? Hold on, let's get you back inside. You’ll catch a cold here.”

The group (and everyone nearby) watched in complete awe as his demeanor from before completely switched from authoritative to somewhat… joyfull? Was Lord Capitano being affectionate?

“I brought you lunch, but I can leave it in your office if you’re busy right now.” You said hurriedly, not wanting to keep him busy.

“No, that won’t do, my love.” He took the package from you and placed his hand on your back. “Eat with me inside.”

He then turned back to the group, who jolted straight up at his sudden change. “Finish the supply preparations once you’re done training. All of you are dismissed.”

“Y-yes, my lord!” They replied in unison and bowed. And yet again, they watched in awe as he guided you back inside the palace, ever so gently, one hand on your back and the other carrying a box wrapped up in a floral patterned cloth. A stark contrast to his all black and blue outfit.

…

As soon as both of you were out of sight, chaos erupted yet again, more loudly this time, with multiple voices talking over the other.

“”My love?” Did he just call them “my love?” Did I hear that right?!”

“What was that? What did we just witness?”

“That was so romantic, holy shit! Was that the same person we take orders from everyday? What the hell?!”

“DID THE LORD HARBINGER JUST… GET VISITED BY THEIR SPOUSE?”

“I thought that ring on his finger was for fashion…”

And that is how they found out that their beloved Captain, who seemed to have no soul outside of his work, was a married man with a loving spouse.

This proceeded to be the hottest gossip in the Fatui for the rest of the month, until they discover more about you from another future visit.

…

BONUS:

Sitting in the privacy of his office, you enjoyed your meal together.

“..You seem to work with very strange people, Capitano.” You said to him.

“Do I? How so?” He asked before you fed him a bite.

“Hm.. actually, nevermind. It would be even stranger if they weren’t strange, considering they work with you.” You chuckled.

You enjoyed your time together and went back home, leaving your beloved in confusion from your conversation, and the sight of you fondly feeding him for him to think about for the rest of the day.

[hellisharchive]

・﹒・ hypersexual nights

Summary: How various Hazbin and Helluva Boss characters react to a hypersexual reader!

Warnings: 18+, sexual scenarios, Vouyer!Vox, does hypersexual not tell you enough lol just read it

Parings: [Seperate] Saint Peter, Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Vox, Mammon, and Striker x hypersexual!reader

Notes: HOLY SHIT THIS WAS GONNA BE FOR 300 FOLLOWERS NOW ITS 400 FOLLOWERS! As a celebration, have this! I'm an hypersexual aroace myself so hypersexuals rise up! 💪

﹒Adam﹒

・He would notice how you always were down to fuck, almost every day in fact, how could he not? You've been the only one to truly keep up with him as most other people always had "low" sex drives and wouldn't be in the mood when he was. So you were like a blessing just for him when day after day, you would always be up for sex at any given moment. When you told him you were Hypersexual one day after a good fuck, he just laughed in your face.

・"Hypersexual? You're always horny? Bitch PLEASE I already knew that. You ask for sex like- every day and never shut up about it. That's why I like you so much. You want to be fucked just as much as I want to fuck"

﹒Saint Peter﹒

・He is a pretty innocent soul, he swears occasionally but when it comes to sex? Oh boy. And you? Being hypersexual? You always flirt with him in a suggestive manner, wanting him to just admit that he likes you. He can't help but simultaneously love the attention as the thoughts you always put in his head, but feel so embarrassed and dirty about it. He always seems to short circuit whenever you flirt with him, but he never says no, so you keep doing it. He of course noticed it after the first few times, you being on par with Adam in sexuality, how could he not? But when you admitted that you were hypersexual and he finally understood.

・"Oh? That's why you uh- why you're always flirt with me! Haha...and say those...really uhm...dirty things... Not that I mind of course! I actually uh...kind of like it..."

﹒Lucifer﹒

・He had his suspicions very early on, it was so obvious to notice how you and Angel Dust got along so well with the topic of sex. He also noticed how you always made sex jokes and talked about sex even without the porn star around. And when it came to him? You always seemed to get flustered whenever he flirted with you, always ensuring to make it dirty, and it worked everytime. After you got together, you almost pounced on him, wanting to have sex early on. He didn't mind it, but in fact, wanted it. You then apologized and said you were hypersexual, meaning you couldn't not think about sex constantly. He just laughed and pinned you down on the bed.

・"Oh I know very well, very well. And I will enjoy fulfilling every. Single. Desire. You could ever ask for"

﹒Mammon﹒

・He isn't exactly the smartest tool in the shed, but he knew you were just as greedy as him. Not in the money sense, no, no. But in sex. You haven't yet gotten to that point in your relationship yet, but he could tell you were denying taking the step. Was it because he was a Sin? He didn't know. All he knew is that if you didn't fuck him already, he was going to fuck you first. So he confronted you and you said you were scared of him just using you for sex due to your constant sexual nature. He reassured you that he truly did love you, but couldn't deny that someone just as greedy as him was very nice to have around.

・"Oi! Don't be scared mate! I won't use ya just for sex and toss ya away! I love ya too much for that. But ya know- I'd be down to fuck every single night if that's what you want"

﹒Vox﹒

・He is an interesting case. He isn't the best guy around and loves to spy on you. So, when you act all innocent and sweet around him, yet fuck yourself silly with a stupid toy screaming for him so incredibly often it becomes a pattern? Yeah, you're hiding your sexual nature. Which is odd, but probably so Valentino didn't swoop in to take advantage of you. Instead of talking to you, he let your feelings build and build and let your toy eventually not be enough for you. You finally burst into his office and told him you knew he was watching you while you masturbated. He was taken aback at first, but then laughed as he realized you loved that he watched you.

・"You need the real thing, huh? Was waiting for you to finally say it you dirty little whore"

﹒Valentino﹒

・He noticed immediately as you would constantly flirt with him in a suggestive way and he would flirt back just as hard if not harder. It was so easy to notice, he played into it very hard and took advantage of your very sexual nature. It was easy to get you hooked quickly and you never had to say a thing. He fucked you in every way he could imagine and you loved every second of it. It was a mutual understanding between you two- the thought of telling him that you're hypersexual was laughable in every sense of the idea.

・"Oh baby~ you wanna be fucked into the mattress again? It hasn't even been three hours amore~ you're still horny? I'll make sure you can't walk anymore after~"

﹒Striker﹒

He isn't apposed to sex, he just hates it when people makes jokes about it when he's just trying to do his job. In fact, he loves sex, have you seen the huge statue where his dick is very endowed? That man is full of himself and knows he can fuck good. You started out as a target for him and at first your sexual flirting threw him off his game. But after many failed attempts of cat and mouse, you finally managed to get him to admit that he liked it from your non stop remarks.

・"Ok fine- yer hot and I wanna fuck. Don't look at me like that! Not my fuckin' fault yer always telling me you wanna suck my cock"

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

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

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still doing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

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

Also not a great sign.

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

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he says.

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

“Coffee would be great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Technically.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“Liar,” you say promptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

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

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

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

“It does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

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

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are body shots?”

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

He’s teasing you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

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

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

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

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

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

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

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

You touch his hand. “This way.”

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

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

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

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

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

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

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

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

He grins. “Not a chance.”

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

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

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

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

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

“No.”

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

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

“Yield.”

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

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

“Yield.”

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

“No.”

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

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

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you say.

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

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

“Cheater,” you say. 

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

You shiver. “Your prize?”

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

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

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

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

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

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

“You have not,” you say.

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

You nod. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

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

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For who?”

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

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “Loki—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he whispers back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

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

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hey! Saw your requests are open. If you havent been overwhelmed eith asks I have one for Yandere Shadow if you're interested, if not you're fine!!

What about a Yandere Shadow and Sonic with an S/O who's extremely affectionate and overprotective? BUT, as a twist, They're this way with everyone they care about. They just have a lot of love to give❤️

(Bonus headcanon that Eggman targets them first in fights because his robots literally cant get anywhere near anyone else due to how protective they can be of others. They focus on others so much they forget they might also be targetted)

A/n: idk how long this was in my inbox for

Yandere Shadow/Sonic x Overprotective, Affectionate Reader

Shadow:

Shadow isn’t used to the kind of affection you give, not from anyone. He wasnt quite used to affection to mych at all. Not after Maria at least.

You’re the type to wrap your arms around people in your life without a second thought, ruffle their hair, or reassure them with kind words whenever they’re feeling down.

At first, he thought this affection was only for him. The way you’d stand beside him in fights, ready to shield him from harm despite your lack of superhuman abilities, left him both confused and, strangely, touched.

But then, Shadow began to notice a pattern.

You weren’t just protective of him. You were protective of everyone you cared about. Whether it was Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, or even strangers in trouble, you’d throw yourself into the way to ensure no one got hurt.

Your willingness to put others first was respectable, but it also infuriated Shadow.

Didn’t you realize how reckless it was? Did you think anyone else deserved your warmth and care the way he did?

Shadow tried to reason with himself. He knew your affection was genuine and that your overprotective tendencies came from a place of love.

Still, that jealousy in his chest clawed at him every time he watched you worry and fuss over someone else.

His thoughts turned darker as he began to wonder if maybe he needed to teach you to focus that energy solely on him...

It wasn’t unusual for Eggman to target the people Shadow cared about, but this time, Eggman targeted you first.

Shadow’s blood boiled when he realized why. Your protective nature made you an obstacle to Eggman’s plans, your sheer determination to shield others from harm meant that his robots couldn’t get anywhere near his intended targets. And worse, your focus on others left you vulnerable.

Shadow was livid. Not at you, but at the world. How dare anyone put you in danger?

You were so busy worrying about others that you forgot to worry about yourself. He decided right then and there that he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you away from everyone else.

In the days that followed, Shadow became even more possessive. He started hovering closer during battles, stepping in before you had the chance to protect someone else. If you tried to shield Sonic or Tails, Shadow would pull you back with a firm grip, glaring at whoever dared to draw your attention.

"You can’t keep doing this," he’d say in a stern voice. "You’re going to get yourself hurt. Let me handle it."

At home, Shadow became even clingier. He didn’t like how much energy you gave to others, so he made it his mission to monopolize your time.

Every moment spent with him was another moment you couldn’t be out there, being with someone else.

Still, he couldn’t completely suppress his jealousy. The way you’d light up when hugging someone else made his fists clench.

Your constant reassurances that you had enough love to go around only made him more determined to make you see that he deserved all of it.

"Why do you waste your time on people who can’t protect themselves?" he’d growl. "They don’t deserve what you give them. I’m the one who’ll keep you safe, not them"

Sonic:

Sonic's usually not the biggest fan on being the ewcieving wnd of affection, but when it comes ti you, he loves it. In fact, he thrives on it.

You’re always ready with a hug, a playful nudge, or words of encouragement that make his heart race faster than his feet.

At first, he thought you were just that way with him, and he basked in the attention.

But Sonic quickly realized that you didn’t just have love for him. You had love for everyone.

You’d throw yourself in front of Tails to block an incoming attack, fuss over Amy if she got a scratch, or rush to Knuckles aid whenever he bit off more than he could chew.

Your boundless compassion for others left Sonic respecting you even more, but it also left him feeling insecure.

As confident as Sonic was in his abilities, he couldn’t shake the fear that someone else might steal your affection.

He wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you prioritized above all else. But your overprotective tendencies meant that you focused on everyone equally, leaving Sonic craving more of your attention.

Then came the day Eggman decided to target you.

It wasn’t hard to see why. You were a force of nature in your own way, your determination to protect others made you a threat to Eggman’s plans. Sonic’s heart dropped when he realized that Eggman saw you as a liability.

The first time one of Eggman’s robots aimed directly for you, Sonic barely managed to stop the attack in time.

"Hey, what were you thinking?!" he scolded, his voice tinged with panic. "You can’t keep throwing yourself in the line of fire like that!"

You brushed off his concerns, he did that stuff all the time, why was it any different?

Sonic wanted to argue, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Still, he made a silent vow to protect you, even if it meant protecting you from yourself.

Sonic’s jealousy is more subtle than Shadow’s, have to keep up the 'perfect hero' act. He’d crack jokes whenever you doted on someone else, masking his unease with humor. But if someone started to take over your time, Sonic wouldn’t hesitate to intervene, dragging you away with some flimsy excuse.

Despite his possessiveness, Sonic would never stop loving your affectionate nature. It’s part of what makes you, you. But he’d do everything in his power to ensure that your love didn’t come at the cost of your safety, even if it meant keeping you closer than you’d like.

[tsukimefuku]

voice kink ♪ nanami kento

I ended up watching a YouTube short of Kenjiro Tsuda and it made me deeply unwell, hence this 30 minute drabble. Have my horny. Part 2 here

Nanami was a dedicated — you could even say devoted — lover. Truly, after so much time together, you doubted there was anything vanilla-related this man wouldn’t do in bed if you asked him to. The sheer lengths he’d go to have you finishing at least twice every time you had sex were surprising.

However, there was this one thing that still nagged you. You thought about it, mulled it over, and considered talking to him after he got home. However, your eagerness to talk about it got the better of you.

“Kento, why don’t you talk dirty to me when we’re having sex?” you asked him, still laying on the bed with your pajamas on.

He turned to you surprised, already dressed in his classic blue buttoned shirt, beige formal pants, and yellow tie with a splatter pattern hanging around his neck as he got ready to leave for work.

“For no reason in particular. I think I just tend to focus on how it feels rather than talking about it,” he answered, “why? Would you rather have me talking more?”

“Perhaps. I mean… I find your voice very sexy,” you admitted, blushing a little, “and one of my favorite parts of sex is when I get to hear it.”

He lifted an eyebrow, a soft hint of amusement taking over his impassiveness.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to ponder on something for a moment, and then, began walking towards the bed as he opened the top button of his shirt.

You were confused for a moment as he climbed with his work clothes from the end of the mattress. However, in an instant, he took both your hands, entangling your fingers while he pressed them to the sides of your head, and sunk his hips in between your thighs, his belt softly catching on the edge of your pants.

Having you caged underneath him, Nanami brushed his lips against your cheek, and slid them slowly down.

His warm breath caressed your skin, and Nanami grazed his teeth on your earlobe before whispering only inches away from your ear, “what would you like to hear me say?”

“A-anything, really,” you stuttered out, thoughts becoming nothing but jumbled bits in your brain.

He hummed, “then, let me tell you what my favorite part is.”

Each syllable had you melting like honey under him, his deep tone caressing your hearing in all the right ways.

“My favorite part is when you are about to finish for the second time with me inside you, and you always dig your nails on my shoulders. I really like when I look in the mirror and see those tiny marks you leave me with, because every time I notice that they’re gone, I know it’s time to get some new ones.”

You let out a moan, sinking your head back on the pillow and arching your back. He pressed himself a little harder, and proceeded.

“I also find your taste to be exquisite, but I’m still unsure if it feels better when I have my tongue deep inside as you tremble all around it or when I’m thrusting it in your mouth right after I’m finished eating you out.”

Another moan tumbled out of your lips as you felt your heartbeat throbbing in between your legs, and at that moment, you were absolutely sure that if he kept going, you’d cum completely untouched underneath him.

“K-Kento...”

“Also, feeling you all warm and wet and tight around my cock when you ask me to have you completely raw is one of the most delicious sensations I’ve had in my entire life, topped only by when I cum inside you and fill you whole, all thick and warm.”

Holy. Fuck.

Your body was quivering underneath him, your breath completely broken in hitches, and you squirmed your hips desperate for some friction over your pooling wetness.

“I hope I gave you enough for you to think about me while I’m gone at work, darling,” Nanami concluded, planting a kiss on your cheek before lifting himself up, carrying his warmth along with him.

You realized that moment you definitely should’ve waited until that night to tell him that.

[p0ckykiss]

who's spiderman - mark lee

summary -> mark lee is your best friend. you would trust him with your life, but you had no idea he was hiding such a big secret until tonight.

warnings -> female!reader x mark, friends to lovers, fluff

you sighed dramatically and flopped back onto the couch, legs draped over those of your best friend. “mark, I hate art.”

mark stopped in his tracks, a nacho chip halfway to his mouth. “but…y/n, you’re majoring in art.”

“i knooow,” you groaned, throwing your head back. “but i have like fifty projects due and not enough time to do them.”

mark grinned, finally crunching on the chip covered in cheese. “i said you should’ve started earlier.”

“psshh…just because you’re already done with all your finals for the semester doesn’t mean you can hold it over me,” you retaliated.

“yes it totally does,” he replied, laughing.

you grumbled under your breath and pulled out your phone in an attempt to ignore him. mark rolled his eyes and smiled, waiting for you to talk again while he continued munching on his nachos. several minutes passed in relative silence, and eventually you found a meme you wanted to show him, so you were forced to suck it up and acknowledge his presence. you shoved your phone in his face and he jumped before reading the post and laughing (as expected).

he spoke when you pulled the device away. “so you finally decided I was right, huh? done procrastinating now?”

“ughhh, i don’t want to though.”

“if nobody did things they didn’t want to do, then nothing would get done.” you stared at him in total confusion and he backtracked. “okay, that made no sense. how about this?” he grabbed your hand and looked you in the eye. “if you start the project for drawing class then i’ll go get us something to eat.”

“bribing me with food? you should be ashamed of yourself, mark.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” mark grinned and moved your legs so he could slide off the couch, grabbing the spare key before leaving the apartment.

much later that night, you were sitting on the same couch looking at your phone before bed. a clatter and then a thud coming from the bedroom raised your concern, and you stood with the intention of finding out what the sudden noise was. on your way to the hallway, you had a moment of common sense and grabbed a pan from the kitchen to potentially defend yourself against an intruder. did i lock my windows? you wondered, not able to remember to save your life.

your heart racing, you swung around the corner into the room. in your shock, you dropped the pan (thankfully, not on your feet) and it clattered to the ground.

there, lying face-up on your bedroom floor, was your best friend mark lee. however, he was entirely clad in a red and blue spandex-like suit from the neck down, and his face appeared to be bleeding. at the sound of the pan hitting the ground, he immediately sat upright and spun around to stare at you, a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

“you’re – you’re spiderman?!” you asked incredulously, feeling faint suddenly.

“i – i – uh…” mark jumped to his feet before quickly removing his suit. the suit crumpling to the floor and leaving him in only a pair of boxers with stars patterned on them. “why do you ask?” he tried in vain to kick the discarded costume aside and crossed his arms over his bare (and very muscled, you might add) chest awkwardly. “who’s spiderman?” he laughed nervously. “i don’t know him.”

you couldn’t believe he was actually attempting to deny what you had clearly seen with your own eyes just a few seconds ago. also, blood was dripping off his face. you put your hands on your hips. “mark, what the hell. i know you’re a superhero. i just saw you wearing the suit. also, you seem to have crawled in through my window for some reason. and…you are bleeding.”

the reality of his injury seemed to catch up with him and he sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. (you were momentarily distracted by the muscles again…how did you never notice how ripped your best friend was??) “look, I’m sorry. but you can’t tell anyone about this, y/n. the only other person who knows this is donghyuck"

you nodded until you looked up to his face again. “donghyuck knows you're spiderman???! ” you practically yelled.

mark rushed forward and pressed his hand over your mouth, the other arm reaching up to grasp your bicep. “shhh! don’t say it so loud,” he whispered, glancing around.

you rolled your eyes and pushed his hand away so you could speak. “oh, come on, there’s nobody else here. my roommate doesn’t come back until later anyway.” now so close to him, you could more clearly see that he had a jagged cut on the side of his face and a black eye on the opposite side. almost unconsciously, you ran a thumb over his non-bruised cheekbone, and he shivered. “okay, who did this to you, mark?”

his grip tightened and he sighed, closing his eyes. “just some bad guys,” he mumbled. “honestly, it’s nothing. i’ve had worse.”

“hush. we gotta get you cleaned up before that cut gets infected, idiot.” a hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you turned away to go find the first aid materials.

after a few minutes, mark padded into your kitchen, where you had pulled a couple of chairs near the small table and spread out the medical supplies. he had apparently discovered the ancient gray pair of sweatpants he left here a couple months ago, but he remained shirtless. “you, uh, seem to be taking this really well,” he commented, rubbing his arm nervously.

you felt your face flush. “oh, trust me – i’m still in shock, but right now I’m focusing on helping you instead of thinking too hard about everything.” you opened the dark brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide and wet a clean cotton ball with the liquid. “all right…get over here.”

“listen, y/n, you don’t actually have to do this – it’ll heal on its own-”

“not if it gets infected it won’t. now come here.”

he seemed to realize that there was no point in arguing with you and gave in. rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he sat across from you in the chair you placed near your own and leaned forward. you lightly dabbed peroxide over the cut, and he hissed. “ow, that stings.”

“sorry!” you quickly apologized. “i should have warned you.”

he smiled for a quick second before grimacing as you continued. “it’s okay, really. i knew it would hurt. i guess i’m just lucky he didn’t get any closer than he did with that kni-” he stopped mid-sentence, sensing your concern. “um, never mind. you can keep going.”

as you carefully cleaned the wound, applied antibiotic ointment, and bandaged your best friend’s face, you noticed he was staring intently at you every time you happened to make eye contact. you could tell you were blushing while the minutes passed at an agonizing pace.

once the wound was wrapped in a protective bandage, you stood to clear the supplies off the table. mark suddenly leaned forward to hug you before you could step away, and once you got over your momentary shock, you hugged him back. “thank you,” he murmured into your arm. after a millisecond of hesitation, you pressed a feather-light kiss to his ruffled hair.

his arm around you squeezed tighter, almost as if he was afraid to let go. your face grew warmer as you felt his thumb brush your side. a few seconds more passed before you slowly tried to pull back, and he finally let go. before you could move too far away, however, mark grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his mouth, tenderly kissing your knuckles. you were stunned into silence, a certain dreamlike quality to his actions.

“is this okay?” he whispered, clutching your hand in his like he was dying and you were the cure.

“yeah,” you breathed in response.

mark stood suddenly, and your brain picked that particular moment to helpfully remember the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and nearly short-circuit. your breath hitched when he gently cupped your cheek in his hand. you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for his next move.

“is…is it bad if I really want to kiss you right now?” he murmured, meeting your gaze.

you managed to shake your head slowly, mesmerized by his deep chocolate-colored eyes. he stepped closer and you shivered involuntarily, giving your silent consent by closing your eyes as he leaned in.

the pressure of mark's lips against yours was steady, almost asking permission. after half a second, you pushed back and returned the kiss. he released your hand and gently held your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks with the softest touch imaginable. both of your hands were freed to find their way into his chestnut-colored hair and around his neck, holding on to him as if your life depended on it.

“i…love…you,” he spoke in between kisses. you smiled against his lips, and he pulled your body towards his with a surprisingly strong arm. mark kissed you again, long and lingering. when you finally broke apart, mark kissed your cheek before resting his forehead on yours.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to do that,” he admitted, gentle laughter shaking his body.

your mouth split open with a joyful grin. “you dork,” you replied breathlessly. “i love you too.” You closed your eyes again, exhaling shakily. when you opened them, mark had an intense look of adoration in his eyes.

“go out with me?” as soon as the words left his mouth, his brain seemed to catch up, and he pulled away quickly, trying to save himself. “um, uh, i mean…will you-”

you laughed, cutting him off. “yeah, mark. i’ll go on a date with you. even if you didn’t ask me the right way.”

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing in relief. “great, i was worried i messed it up for a second – wait, what do you mean ‘the right way’?”

you giggled at his confusion. “come on, mark. we gotta put these things away and get you out of here before my roommate gets back.”

at your bedroom window, mark couldn’t resist giving you one last kiss before pulling the mask on and swinging away with a wink. you pressed your hands to your blushing face, reflecting on the eventful evening.

falling backwards onto your bed, you smiled wide.

[wordbunch]

a/n: to all my moots and friends, no you didn't see me post this and yes im still your comfort lotr girl!!! to all others, hello & welcome to my newest obsession yes I have been corrupted. ENJOY!!!!

emperor Geta headcanons

warnings: toxic behavior obviously lol, mild nsfw-ish mentions, this man should be taken with caution by all means

this man loves like he was starved and then brought to a feast - he inhales and devours every inch of you, every texture, scent, sound, personality trait, quirk, he will eat you UPPPP in every sense of the word; he wants his senses full of you and he can't ever get enough

he is definitely a very obsessive and possessive person, observant, sharp, witty. also when it comes to prayers and sacrifices, he means business - he dead seriously prayed for a wife who was headstrong, intelligent, passionate and fearless; someone who could match him in every way, whom he could verbally spar with, word for word, but also someone who'd have his back unconditionally as he doesn't really have many people to genuinely rely on. he wanted an equal, and he was also hoping for someone either his age or even a bit older - he was afraid of having a childish partner who wouldn't properly fill in a tremendously important role

he is 110% a switch and it fully depends on what kinda day he'd had and the mood he's in

contrary to many interpretations and rumors, he isn't horny 24/7!!!! like yes he IS insanely attracted to you, but his days can be so impossibly draining and tedious so sometimes he would just rather lie down with you and have you close, than do anything else. also, he doesn't do quickies or anything of the sort; he likes to go all in and take his sweet time with you, or let you have your way with him. he enjoys being dedicated and not distracted in bed with you. all in or nothing for this man. and yes he is vocal.

one thing that makes him feel absolutely AMAZING (and you realized quite quickly thankfully)is when you draw him a bath - yes it must be YOU specifically who does it - and then either give him a shoulder rub or wash his hair, or both. he will become putty in your hands and relax more than he can explain in words. pamperrr him sometimes 🥹😭 he finds it so thoughtful that you do this for him at the end of a taxing day; after all, there is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you.

speaking of, when Geta notices something is off with you, he won't ask if he can make you happy again somehow, he will ask you to name what you want him to do, and he will do it. you are the only person with that effect on him.

most definitely is turned on by someone who is smart and witty and perceptive. also he has very keen eyes and he can read even your slightest signals, even in a crowded room, especially in a crowded room, and he also appreciates when you can read him without him having to verbalize anything to you

the most Protective Person of all time, God forbid someone looks at you wrong!!!

showers you with gifts

you will LOVE this - he likes when you match in some subtle, or obvious, way, like the same pattern on your robes, the same gems on your jewels, anything that shows off your bond and shows that you belong to him and he belongs to you completely. 🤍

almost weekly he has night terrors and horrible dreams either about his childhood/how they were treated by their father, or about something awful happening to you. you always do your best to comfort him, knowing that you're the only one who can do that and the only one allowed to see him in such a state

so you whisper sweet nothings to him, like promises you would never hurt him in any way and that you will always do your best to protect him and love him

touch starved, touch obsessed, cannot sleep without you in the bed, cannot sleep when you are on a journey somewhere and misses you terribly; can barely wait for you to return and then grip you in his arms and just breathe you in

obsessed with your scent

very often you are his impulse control and you just have the power to center him when he's losing his grip on a situation

he is so used to being in control (or having to be), that he will really spiral when a situation is getting out of hand and he feels not powerful enough to stop or change something. he is really bad at holding it together when shit is going down, and half the time he seems to be two steps away from a breakdown. honestly, sometimes you just have to let him rage, panic, and vent it out in whatever way, and he will come back to himself- and to your embrace-shortly.

he needs your approval and appreciation like air. if you don't think he is doing a good job, if you don't think (and show) he is smart, capable, if he isn't the center of your universe, nothing else matters at all

he will combust if he doesn't have at least a hand on you at all times

sometimes he still can't believe how you love him - people who touch him usually either want something from him, fear him, despise him, or all those - your gentle touch is an unfamiliar, yet welcome sensation; he can't get enough.

let's be real he can get anything he wants from you when he looks at you with those gigantic brown eyes, but somehow he seems unaware of that (and you already give him everything anyway)

if big gatherings and constant celebrations aren your thing, he will not let you out of his sight and, as much as you need him there to comfort you, he needs you on his arm to feel happy, safe and fulfilled. you just complete each other. 💛

as much as he enjoys every single loving nickname you give him, especially if you call him 'your' anything - your love, your darling, your heart, your pride and joy - but even more he will melt if you just call him by his name, as one of the very few (if not only) person who utters it with love, softness, adoration...unlike many who spit it out hatefully like poison

Geta feels veryyyy smug and proud of himself when he does an act of service for you, such as giving you a massage or bringing you a drink - look at him, he gets served things left and right, but he remains SO devoted to you only.

well, was that something? leave it to me to humanize the worst (actually historical) person ever and give him some PROPER FLUFF🫠

[nachrosas]

A LITTLE BIT OF JEALOUSY, PLEASE | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you're jealous of the new agent. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff word count: 776 a/n: i promised to myself that yesterday was the last fic of 2024, but i kinda lied? this can be viewed as the reader version of “a cup of jealousy, please” (but you also can see then separately)! hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat (i love to talk and meet new people)! till the next one!

The BAU's famous meeting room was illuminated by the yellowish light of the fluorescent lamps, and the round table was littered with papers and folders. You and Spencer were poring over the evidence from the latest case the team was working on, analyzing every detail with his characteristic attention. He moved quickly, adjusting his glasses and pointing at the scattered documents, while his words formed a continuous stream of logical reasoning.

"So, if we consider the pattern of the attacks, the modus operandi of the criminal begins to distort... we need to start looking for people with a certain knowledge of psychology, or someone capable of manipulating minds." said Spencer, his voice soft and focused.

You were totally focused, analyzing the data with him. But something in your mind told you that something was wrong. A murmur from somewhere behind Spencer caught his attention, confirming his suspicions. The sound came from one of the corners of the room, where the team's new agent was trying to talk to him, her words sounding louder than usual as if she was trying her best to capture his attention.

"Do you really think that criminals think like that?" she moved a little closer, making an almost casual gesture towards his face, as if she were fixing his hair. "You have such a fascinating way of looking at things. It must be amazing to have a brain like yours."

Spencer, totally oblivious to the change, and possible intentions, in the tone of the conversation, shook his head in understanding. "Well, I have an IQ of… 187. But I like to study patterns and behavior. I believe that every human being is predictable, on some level."

The agent smiled, leaning forward slightly, her eyes shining with an expression you could recognize from miles away: interest. Something more. Her eyes narrowed involuntarily, and an uneasy feeling began to form in the back of her mind - and her heart.

You looked back at the papers, trying to concentrate, but the sound of the conversation continued to flow in the background. The agent didn't seem to want to stop. "You're really modest, Spencer. You don't know how… attractive you are when you talk about your work."

You knew that jealousy was a strange feeling, of course you had felt it a few times before, but now, when she mentioned it, it was completely clear. You were dying of jealousy at the interaction between the new girl and Spencer. Your stomach churned. Spencer seemed so innocent, so absorbed in their conversation, that he didn't even notice her intentions. And that made him even more vulnerable. But who wouldn't? The way she smiled at him, the way she touched him lightly as she gestured. You had to hold on with all your might not to get up from your chair and rip her hand off his arm — Hotch would certainly be grateful if you didn't do that, after all, aggression between agents wouldn't look good on his report card.

You bit your lip, mentally deciding that you had put up with enough of this nonsense — in your own opinion. You raised your head, your voice coming out stronger than you expected.

"Spencer." you interrupted the agent's conversation with a firmness that surprised everyone in the room, even you. "I think we've found new evidence about the connection between the victims. Come and see it here."

He quickly turned to you, his expression of concentration giving way to a gentle, soft smile. "Oh yes! I'm sorry, I'll help you." And, as if nothing had happened, he walked away from the agent, who stood there awkwardly, watching the two of you work together and who was quickly forgotten by Spencer. Giving up, she quickly left the room, stamping her feet at not having gotten what she wanted.

"That's new, huh?" Spencer commented, as he approached, noticing your change in behavior. You didn't want to look at him, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh, it's no big deal. I just didn't like the way she was throwing herself at you. I thought she had something better to do with her life."

Spencer let out a low laugh, understanding but keeping his tone playful. "You know, I didn't really realize what was going on. I'm not very good with… social cues."

"I know," you replied, your lips curving into a slightly annoyed but also relieved smile. "Fortunately, you have someone to take care of it."

Spencer laughed again, more softly, and the two returned to their task. And you mentally prayed that a moment like that wouldn't happen again, otherwise it wouldn't just be words flying at the new girl.

[trans-axolotl]

my gendered experience growing up as an intersex person was overwhelmingly defined by my responses and resistance to everything that got me labeled as a failure: failure to quickly get a gender assigned at birth, failure to go through a normal puberty and grow up into a woman, failure at meeting the standards for "complete womanhood" because of my intersex sex traits, and yet simultaneously failing to ever be acknowledged as a "real man" and being treated as a threat when I expressed I wanted to transition.

before i realized i was a man and came out as trans, the ways that girlhood was denied to me was very often humiliating and painful. locker rooms filled with other girls were a frequent source of shame. there were many big and small ways that i was told that my intersex body made me insufficient, incomplete, broken. i was forced onto estrogen, forced into shaving my body hair, and was constantly being told to change myself to better fit this mystical idea of a "normal woman." and even though I ultimately ended up becoming a man, the denial of girlhood was painful.

but i think that these things would have been even more difficult to navigate as an intersex girl if on top of everything I already said, i was having to cope with the denial of my girlhood while i was forced into boys locker rooms. if my doctors were forcing me onto testosterone hrt and refusing to even discuss estrogen, if all my legal paperwork had "M" on it and was a logistical nightmare to change, if every support group for my intersex variation labeled it as a "men's support group," if the LGBTQ community spaces i tried to join were misogynistic towards me often to the point of exile, if my self determination as an intersex girl was denied in most spaces of my life, and on and on and on. while listing all these things out i also don't want to make it seem like it's all about suffering and pain--so much of transition for me has been about joy in my self determination and how much it feels like a reclamation of autonomy to decide what I want my body and self to be like--i know this is an experience i share with so many of my trans intersex friends.

as an person who was AFAB, although there were many ways that trying to grow up as an intersex girl were a painful, logistical nightmare, many times and places that i was excluded from woman's spaces, etc. however, there was a simultaneous affirmation that i was right to strive for that in the first place. which is logic rooted in some fucked up compulsory dyadism, but also which would have made some things slightly easier or even possible at all if i had wanted to embrace being an intersex girl within this fucked up system.

pretty much every time i've seen people on tumblr talking about "afab transfems" in an intersex context, people seem happy to collapse these experiences and act like there's no meaningful distinction or point in distinguishing between different types of intersex embodiment. it seems incredibly extractive, to be perfectly honest with you--taking terms already used by a community to make meaning of their experiences and to expand and dilute that term enough that it means something pretty different than the original.

it's making me think about the concept of epistemic injustice, which is a term coined by Miranda Fricker to describe oppression related to knowledge, communication, and making meaning of the world. There's two subtypes of epistemic injustice: testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. Testimonial injustice refers to the dynamic where marginalized people are labeled as not credible, excluded from conversations, and their testimony and knowledge is labeled as unreliable, even when they're the ones who are experts and have first hand experience of what people are talking about. (this is why i probably won't make this post rebloggable--i've noticed this pattern on tumblr many times where trans men speaking about transmisogyny get lots of notes and are given a lot of grace, where trans women are silenced, attacked for not having perfect wording, and otherwise delegitimized.)

the second type is called hermeneutical injustice. it describes how marginalized people are denied the right to make sense of the experiences in their own lives. this can look like preventing people from building community, terminology, a political understanding of themselves, and the interpretive resources needed to process how you live in the world.

this is a form of injustice that I think almost all intersex people are very familiar with--we are denied community and interpretive resources to the point that we're told we don't even exist, that intersex isn't a real word, and so many more examples that leave us isolated and with very few options for understanding what we're collectively experiencing. as an intersex person i really intimately understand how frustrating, confusing, and painful it is to not have words for your experiences, your identity, your life.

so it makes me really sad and pissed off when it seems like intersex people seem to be replicating this exact same type of epistemic injustice towards transfems and specifically towards intersex transfems. pretty much every time recently i see people talking about "afab transfems" they're doing so in a way that seems to deny that trans women even have the right to make sense of their own experiences in the world. there seems to be this mindset that these political frameworks, these interpretive resources that transfems have built up are just up for grabs for anyone. and then on top of that has come with it a lot of cruel, hateful language and direct attacks towards many intersex transfems who are facing so much harassment right now.

an important value to me is this idea of reciprocity as a foundation for solidarity. to me reciprocity means that we're prioritizing the ways we care for each other, we're thinking about how we can uplift each other, and we're watching out for extractive or exploitative patterns where one group is constantly expected to be in "solidarity" with another group without getting the same respect and care back toward them. i think that there could be so many ways that intersex people of all genders could share our overlapping experiences and actually be in true, meaningful solidarity with each other, but i barely ever actually see that happen on tumblr. and that pisses me off, because i do think that there's so much we have in common that we could celebrate and support each other with. i feel so much kinship with so, so many of my trans intersex friends, and ways where i see our lives converge. but i don't think that can happen in an environment where there's no acknowledgment of the ways that our experiences will sometimes (often) differ from each other, and the ways that we have unique needs.

another frustration i've had based on this most recent couple months of transmisogynistic intersex posting on tumblr is how intersex people have been mostly ignoring intersex community resources and devaluing the existing intersex terminology that people created to try to meet our needs. so much of what i've seen people describing on tumblr seems to really line up with the term ipsogender. Ipsogender is a term coined by an intersex sociologist Cary Gabriel Costello, and is used to describe intersex people whose gender matches the gender they were medically assigned at birth, but who might not feel like cis or trans fits them, might experience dysphoria, and who might feel like they've ended up transitioning medically or socially in some ways. this is a word that exists that an intersex person put time into coining because they wanted other intersex people to feel seen, embraced, and have ways of understanding themselves and communicating to others, and that's something that's super meaningful to me! and yet, i've rarely seen anyone reference it, and also seen multiple people making fun of it in other spaces online.

there's also intergender, which is another intersex specific gender term used to describe when your gender is inseparable from your intersex traits, and that your intersex identity is intertwined with your gender identity in some way. some people just identify as intergender, others use it as an adjective and exist as an intergender man or woman. intersex terminology like this is really important to me, especially because we're so often denied the right to make sense of our own experiences.

i think ultimately what i wanted to say with this post is just that when i think about intersex community, some of the most important values of intersex community for me are solidarity, care for each other, and affirming our right to define our own existence. and i don't think that can happen in a community where people are acting in extractive ways, harassing and attacking their fellow community members, and being dismissive of the realities of other intersex people's lives.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Greedy Little Thing

Requested:

Hii just saw your blog for the first time and I'm in love😭😭. Also saw your asks are open and I strongly believe that the needy Az fic deserves a part two with needyyyy reader (begging) please please pleaseeee. We know Az will be brilliant at thissss.

This was so much fun to write. This is really just pure filth.

Technically a part 2 to this request but it’s not required!

Warnings: so much teasing, oral (f receiving), edging/ orgasm denial, some implied cum eating, creampie, p in v sex (18+), dirty talk, praise, Azriel being a little shit.

WC:3.1K

You very rarely got to see your mate dressed up. So used to seeing him in his training leathers that seeing him in anything else had you practically drooling. But seeing him in dress clothes was enough to bring you to your knees, black button down rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants that showed off his glorious thighs and ass. Your mate was hot, more than hot, he was built like a god. 

“Did you need something, doll?” He spoke. You realized you had come into the room for something. You were going to tell him something but all thoughts eddied out of your brain the moment you saw him. 

“You.” The world tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking. He chuckled lightly as he noticed your stare. And just to tease you, he flexed his arms making the veins pop ever so slightly. You imagined running your tongue over them and heat pooled deep in your belly. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that we have plans tonight.” He was suddenly right in front of you. His finger hooking under your chin to make you look up at him. 

“We do?” Your voice was breathless, needy and whiny as you tried to recall where exactly you had to be that would keep you from climbing Azriel like a tree. 

“Cassian’s birthday party?” He asked more than spoke. Shit. That was what you had come here for. You needed to know where the wrapping paper went. The fancy thick ones that even Cassian had trouble tearing into. 

“What time does it start?” You broke your eyes away from him to peer at the clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past 5.

“Six. And you still need to get dressed.” You felt a pout rise on your face and Azriel’s thumb popped your bottom lip. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. Well it was supposed  to be chaste but you got your arms around his neck before he could pull away. Teeth instantly sink into his bottom lip. He groaned and trailed his hands over your waist. He used his grip to pull you away from him, stepping back until your arms were fully extended around his shoulders. 

“Keep that up, princess, and we won’t go at all.”

‘Is that a bad thing?” 

“Nesta will come get us herself with how much planning she’s done.” You sighed heavily as he stepped out of your hold, your body instantly missing his warmth. 

“Go get ready and I’ll finish wrapping his present. Since that’s what you came in here looking for.” The bastard knew the whole time but had wanted to rile you up. Fine. Two can play that game. You spun on your heel and stomped over to the closet.

The dress you picked was one you had just gotten. Intricately cut patterns of fabric that covered just enough to be decent. It wasn’t your usual color, opting to not get it in your favorite sapphire blue but instead a red so dark it was almost purple. It matched your skin tone so wonderfully and brought out the color of your eyes. You left your hair down, letting it flow naturally over your shoulder, covering the exposed skin the dress left. Grabbing the matching heels, you slipped out of the closet and headed to grab the set of bracelets Azriel had recently gotten you. 

You struggled to clasp them, holding the delicate chain as it continued to slip out of your grasp. You gave a frustrated noise after the third attempt and went to go find your mate to help you. 

“Az.” You called into the house. Not knowing where he was. 

“In here.” He answered from his study. The door was opened so you walked in, still holding the bracelet to your wrist. You held it out for him, not even looking up. 

“I need your help.” You finally looked at him when you didn’t get a response and felt the surge of lust down the bond. His eyes hungirly roved over your figure. The tight dress clinging to the plush of your breast, your stomach and thighs. He licked his lips as he walked over to you. Azriel took your outstretched wrist with a careful hand and managed to clasp the silver bracelet. 

He placed a soft kiss to your pulse point before pulling you against him. A soft grunt leaving you as you crashed against his chest. His free hand rested on the skin of your back, left open with the low cut of the dress. 

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He said against the shell of your ear. You fought back a shiver as his breath tickled your neck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to get ready.” Your words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the smell of your arousal in the air. Azriel peeled his hand away from you to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. 

“Ten minutes.” Was all he said before he knelt down in front of you. Your hands followed him down, clutching onto him and settling on his shoulders. He was quick to sling your leg over his shoulder. Opening you up to him. He ran the tip of his nose along the center of your underwear, drinking in your scent. 

“You’re drenched for me, sweetheart.” 

“Az-” You mewled as he reached up to tug your panties to the side. Your hands slid into his hair as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit. Teasing the bundle of nerves with feather-light strokes. Your nails dug into his scalp, focusing on the hints of pleasure he was giving you. A breathy “please” leaving your mouth was all it took for him to unleash himself. His pace was merciless, the sounds of his lips on your mingling perfectly with your loud cries. Your legs wobbled slightly and he wrapped an arm around you. Giving you leverage to ride his face, your hips bucking in time with his tongue. 

He had you rapidly approaching your peak. Broken version of his name falling over your lips. 

“Az I’m gonna-” And right as you felt that clench deep in your stomach, he was pulling away. 

A loud cry of outrage left you as you stared down at him. Chest heaving as he placed your foot back down on the ground and stood up to his full height again. He smoothed your dress back into place on your hips, squeezing lightly as he did. 

You felt hot all over, pulse thrumming across your skin. Words failed you as Azriel licked his lips, cleaning your glistening arousal off of his face. 

“I-I was so close.” You whined, closing your eyes as if trying to will the feeling to come back. 

“And maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to wait and not try to tease me like a brat.” He tapped your cheek, a silent request for you to open your eyes. “Now you can be frustrated all night while I decide if I’m going to let you cum.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. “Please. I’ll be good. Please let me cum.” 

He placed a small kiss on your forehead before looking at his watch again. He picked up the present and held an arm out for you. You didn’t hesitate, although a little pouty, to grab it as he winnowed you to the venue Nesta had picked out. 

The girls had spared no expense, and it was obvious as you looked around. Cassian normally wasn’t one for big parties but the century birthdays were always a big deal. Nesta had turned the club into an almost intimate setting but the music thumping through the sound system had your pulse skyrocketing again. You felt it everywhere, still so worked up with not being able to cum. Azriel rubbed small circles into your back, encouraging you to relax. 

“I’ll get us drinks.” He said as he placed another kiss to the top of your head. 

The club was still open to the public tonight, Nesta had just reserved the top floor for Cassian’s party. He would still want to dance with Nesta and she was fully aware of that. You looked around the room for the rest of your friends and quickly spotted them. Cassian's wings sticking out among the crowd. He already had Nesta pulled tight against him. You caught her eye and she pulled away from him with a cat-like smile before she focused on you. You extended the present out to her and she took it to add to the growing pile on one of the tables. 

“You made it.” She gave you a smirk that let you know you must not have been as composed as you thought you were. “I’m surprised with you wearing…that.” She covered her laugh as you rolled your eyes. 

“Azriel was very insistent on being here on time.” As you looked for your other friends you felt your anger rising. No one else had shown up yet, you and Az being the first other couple here. Frustration overrode the lust still buzzing below your skin until you felt Azriel join your side. 

He handed you your drink, suddenly very grateful for the cool glass against your hand. 

“How did you convince them to let you decorate?” Azriel asked Nesta who merely shrugged in response. 

“I’m persuasive.” She responded and you felt the urge to laugh at the image of her storming into the club managers office and demanding them to let her essentially redo half of the club. You took a deep sip of your drink as the rest of your family slowly started to arrive. Feyre and Rhys first, with a small mountain of gifts. Mor, Emerie and Gwen arrive next. Elain and Lucien after, and even Amren. 

Eventually rounds of shots were poured as everyone started to get started for the night. Cassian was glowing with happiness as he danced with Nesta, then Feyre and eventually you. He spun you in a large circle as you tipped your head back laughing. He had gotten better at dancing since being with Nesta, a fact she was very proud of. He had two left feet and no rhythm before he met her. 

The song faded into the next and you excused yourself from the dance floor to get another drink. Azriel was right behind you, hands seeming to gravitate towards your waist and back. He had left teasing touches all over skin the entire night and it was enough to have your thighs clenching together as your mind drifted to the unfinished events in his office. 

“You seem tense, sweetheart.” His hands going to rest on your shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tight muscles around your neck. You leaned into his touch, biting back a moan at the feeling of him touching you so intimately. He chuckled as he pulled away, a deep frown on your face. He was still riling you up, hours after and it was working perfectly. Your thighs were sticking with your arousal. 

“Az, please.” You plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for. For him to stop, for him to pull you into the bathroom of the club and finally finish what he started. 

“Behave.” Was all he said as he pulled you to the center of the dance floor, you drink still waiting on the bar top. 

He pulled you tight against him as the song shifted to something slower, something more sensual. His hips dug into yours perfectly, meeting you beat for beat. Your hands were digging into the front of his shirt, clutching onto the fabric to stop yourself from melting into a pool at his feet. His hands ghosting along your waist, over your sides, brushing every inch of exposed skin had you panting against him. You pulled him down to meet your lips, a sigh escaping both of you as you did. His hands went to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and he licked into your mouth. Demanding every bit of your attention. 

You didn’t realize he had backed you into a corner until you felt the wall behind you. It gave you leverage to grind your hips against him. A small part of you was satisfied as you felt his rock hard length through his pants. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown. He was matching your breathing, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath. 

You reached your hand down before he caught your wrist and pulled you away from his waistband. 

“I told you to behave.” He growled in your ear. The sound was so perfect it made you want to cry out in frustration. You felt it everywhere. Your toes curl in your heels as you whine. 

“Az. You proved your point. I’ll listen.” Your voice is high pitched. 

“Look at you, so needy for me. I bet you would let me fuck you right here?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought. He laughed darkly at your response. “You would, wouldn’t you. My little slut, so needy for my cock she’d let me fuck her in a room full of strangers.” He bit the junction between your neck and shoulders had a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Az-” He silenced you with a kiss. Hips driving into yours, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped a leg around his waist, exposing your dripping core to him. He growled low in his chest and you felt the world moving around you. 

Next thing you felt was the plush of your large bed underneath you. 

“You want me that badly, princess?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his toned chest slowly becoming visible. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry. A small slap to the inside of your thigh had you crying out a yes. 

He leaned over you, arms caging in each side of your head. He eyed you up, a smirk plastered on his face as you panted under him. He reached out and flipped you over so you were in his lap. Straddling his hips, your heels hanging off the edge of the bed. Your hand slipped behind you to take them off but his words stopped you. 

“Keep them on.” Was all he said before he started trailing kisses over your collarbone, down to the space between your breasts. You wanted the dress off, wiggling your hips to tell him as much. Azriel didn’t hesitate. Hands coming up the zipper of the dress and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He pulled away long enough to slip the scrap of fabric over your head, you arms raising and falling against his chest with a loud smack. He leaned back on his elbows, drinking in your figure. Your skin flushed with need, eyes wide and wild. You leaned down and started placing open mouth kisses on his exposed chest. You went to slide off of his lap before a firm hand stopped you. 

“As much as I would love to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me. I want to be inside of you.” You could have cried with relief at the words. But you should have known there would be a catch. He didn’t waste another second before he was slipping inside of you. Hours worth of teasing making it almost too easy for him to fill you. You sniffled as you sunk down completely. Already drunk off the feeling of him. 

His hands found themselves on either side of your hips, urging you to move at the pace he set. You own arms hooking around his neck as you pull yourself closer to his chest. YOur head rolled back until you were looking at the ceiling, body bouncing with each thrust as you could do nothing but take everything he gave you. 

You felt that coil tightening again in your stomach. Your thighs clenching around his waist, trying to take him deeper. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you are.” 

You could do nothing but cling to him tighter, your moans mingling with his own groans. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding. The bed shook across the floor as he continued to drive his hips against yours, again and again. Your whole body clenched as you were about to tip over the edge and right as you went to cry out for him. He pulled out, flipping you over so you were suddenly under him. You cried out again. 

“Az. Please.” He kissed your cheek, trying to sooth you as you reached out for him. He waited a few heartbeats before he lined himself back up with your entrance and pushed in. 

“Are you gonna be good?” He asked. You would have said yes to whatever he wanted, anything to let you cum for him. You were nodding, voice horse from the pitch of your moans. 

He grabbed your ankles and pushed your thighs up to meet your shoulders, driving his hips with his whole body. You felt every wonderful inch of him this way, could feel how tight your walls were pulling him in. His skin was dewey as a layer of sweat clung to both of you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your legs started to shake. Your body so exhausted already as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him. 

“Cum for me, my sweet, beautiful, girl.” He pressed his nose into your shoulder, biting down right as you hit your high. You shuddered in his arms, which tightened around you. Letting you ride out your high as his hips slowed down, grinding against you. It was only a few more moments before he was growling into your ear. HIs hips stilling as he pumped you full of his release. You stayed wrapped around him, basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Body finally relaxing against him. He pulled out of you slowly, your releases spilling out and running down your thigh. Azriel’s eyes went right to the mess between your legs and you saw that glint of hunger that told you the night was only beginning. 

He started to trail kisses down your stomach until he laid flat against the bed. 

“I think I owe you more than one, princess.” And brought his lips to your folds for the second time tonight.