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spookyrea · 5 months ago

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You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home.

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache and, coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl.

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

You sank low in your seat, arms crossed, and focused very hard on glaring a hole in the quid-jet floor. Who knows -- maybe you could spontaneously develop heat-vision. It would look good on your resume.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot.

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box.

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind.

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway.

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off.

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead.

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though…

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight.

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved-

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you.

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs.

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.”

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning.

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed.

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki smut #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #no header we die like men (I don't want to dig through pinterest)#another one dredged up from my WIP folder after going. oh hey is this one finished??

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jiminiecrickets · 9 days ago

Text

HONEY POT. PJM / KTH / M!READER

summary. there's something wrong with the popular kids at this small-town high school. something deeply, viscerally, hauntingly wrong...

wc. 8.8k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, switch!jimin, jimin in skirts and heels, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, biting, spitroasting, brief daddy kink (r. receiving), gratuitous blood/gore, blood as lube (from another wound), cultism & religious fervour, cannibalism, murder

note. happy halloween!! i began this in early august to be on time, but uh, we know how that turned out :')

"��and i was like, no, that isn't how this works! i'm literally the best he's ever had, why would he ever wanna break up with me? i even bought him that stupid walkman he kept whining about and he still went and cheated on me and then tried to dump me. me! how could he?"

"well, he was already on his way to being a forty-year-old junkie who lives in a trailer park and hates life. he could've had so much with you. he'll realise how much he messed up – he'll get his karma."

"i know, i know... you're right. i just wish he could've been nicer. could've saved us both the trouble."

jimin lifts his soft dark eyes from his pink handheld mirror. he smacks his glossy lips and shuts the mirror with a clack, crossing his legs the other way and leaning back against the steps of the steel bleachers. he glances up at taehyung, who sits one step above him.

dressed in a cropped, pale pink shirt and blue jeans, taehyung fans his hot face with chunky rings on each finger, eyes lifted to the sky in a futile effort to hold back tears. jimin had already helped him redo his makeup in the bathroom, and this wasn't the first time taehyung had cried over a boy. poor thing just had too big of a heart – he wasn't made for modern boys and their vices.

jimin sucks on his teeth and sighs, turning forwards to lord over the verdant grassy field, where the senior boys are engaged in tryouts for college football teams. "don't worry, honey. we'll find the right one for you eventually. maybe try an athlete? the artsy ones are always such snobs."

"oh, they aren't all that bad, really," taehyung mumbles, patting the corners of his damp eyes lightly. "anyway, they all want you, not me. they're not into anyone who isn't a cheerleader."

"you're being silly. they just don't think you're interested – you keep rejecting them." jimin scours the field, tucking his dark hair behind his ear. a diamond stud flashes under the sun. he reaches out and touches taehyung's knee, leaning in for secrecy he doesn't need. "how about that one?"

"he called me a sour bitch. no."

"and that one?"

"he made me do all the work on a paired project and took my ninety-eight for himself. no."

jimin purses his lips, eyes flickering between their faces, warm and shining under the sun. all around, they looked quite similar – all fairly muscular, with the same lazy grins. not bad for eye-candy, he supposes, but taehyung is a romantic, which is how anyone he dates manages to bury themselves so deeply in his heart.

motion by the changing rooms on the other side of the field. jimin's eyes flick over naturally, and they widen.

strong, handsome, and, most importantly, taehyung is already looking at him.

he keeps his watchful gaze discreet, following the figure as he crosses the field and joins the coach to speak with him briefly. he is handed a football, which he tosses and spins in his hands a few times, and the coach gathers a few lounging boys to help out.

they spread out, and the tryout begins.

jimin isn't an expert on the game, only knows the basics, but he knows how to read a man – and the coach is clearly impressed by what he sees. jimin observes quietly, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, as he runs circles around the rest of the boys, leaving them far in the dust.

at last, when the boys are huffing and puffing with their hands on their heads and the cute one takes his time wandering back to the coach – after meeting jimin's eyes for a quick, sparkling second – jimin turns his head in taehyung's direction.

"what about... that one?"

taehyung huffs, pressing his knees together and resting his elbows on them. jimin doesn't mention how his gaze flicks to his shoes before meeting jimin's, almost as if he didn't want to be caught looking. he gives the footballer a once-over, then inspects his nails. "too tall."

jimin watches him push back his cuticles with his thumbnail, those thick dark lashes brushing his fine cheekbones. his prettiness makes him a honeypot for invariably bad people, and though jimin feels for him, he can't say he wants him to stop trying. everyone has their place in the world – even cheaters and liars. taehyung's relationships make it easier to weed them out for proper atonement.

"are you sure?" jimin asks carefully, tilting his head. "he looks like just your type."

"i don't have a type," taehyung sighs. "if i did, it'd make finding people that much harder."

eventually, jimin hums, and turns away to watch the tryouts.

out of sight, taehyung's shoulders slump slightly, and he exhales shakily. he nibbles on the edge of his nail as his eyes follow a figure lifting a water bottle to his lips. his sweat-shining throat bobs as he swallows rapidly, and a trickle of water escapes from the corner of his lips; it trails down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. he wipes it away without much thought. taehyung presses his thighs together.

suddenly, jimin turns back to him, propping his chin on his palm. his eyes are big and innocent as he asks, "hey, tae? you know that ex we were talking about earlier? i want his address."

"o-oh, um – just to make him sorry, right?"

"yeah. he will be."

taehyung swallows. "yes. okay. is it bad that i feel... that i pity him?"

jimin giggles, sweet and high like a bell. he squeezes taehyung's knee. "you're my best friend. i'm not going to let anyone get away with hurting you. you know that."

"mhm, i know. just make sure nobody sees you, alright? i don't want you getting in trouble for vandalism or something."

"oh, my charges would definitely include more than petty vandalism, but you know me – i cannot be caged!" he jumps to his feet and stretches high above his head, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of pure, unblemished skin. the way he scrunches his nose slightly makes taehyung's heart flutter.

he exhales softly as his neck cracks, and he flashes taehyung a quick smile as he packs up his pin-studded messenger bag and slings it over his shoulder. "you can give me his address after school, but don't leave it too late. don't forget about the curfew. i have to go for now, but you make sure you take care of yourself, okay? if you feel too sad to study, i'm sure my mother would let you go home early if you asked."

taehyung hums and nods, leaning forward on the bench as jimin skips down the bleachers until his ivory pumps make a satisfying clack on the concrete base. "your nepo-baby status is really helpful sometimes, y'know?"

jimin beams, his eyes crinkling to crescents. "i know! see you around, honey. love you!"

"love you," taehyung echoes, and watches him go. his all-white outfit makes him as bright as the moon, and just as breathtaking. effortlessly, he carves a path through the crowds like moses and the red sea, perfectly oblivious to the power he wields over them all.

taehyung sighs and turns back to watch the tryouts, and that one special player right in the middle. just as he wishes you'd come and cheer him up, you glance over, grass stains on your shorts and a new bruise on your knee. as you meet his gaze, the biggest grin splits your face. you wave with your whole arm and taehyung giggles to himself, hiding his warm cheeks behind his knuckles as he lifts one shy hand.

his heart races. for you, he'll keep up this masquerade. this was a dangerous neck of the woods, and he wouldn't let anything steal you away – not even jimin.

he's waiting patiently for you at the edge of the field when you finally manage to break off from your mates. his slim fingers dance lightly over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. as quickly as his touch arrives, it vanishes, his arms once more wrapped around his body like a hug.

"hey," he greets softly.

"hey yourself," you reply, amusement light on your tongue. "i saw you earlier. i hope you didn't get bored watching me chase after a ball like a dog."

he huffs. "what are you saying? dogs are cute. you were cute. i like seeing you bound across the field – you make for some especially tasty eye-candy, sweating and panting like that."

"do i, now?" you say playfully, leaning against the steel fence. he leans in too, matching your smile with a pretty, half-bitten one of his own. his lashes flutter as you tease a kiss, the tip of your nose brushing his cheek. "next thing i know, you'll be begging to lick me up."

he clicks his tongue, turning away from your almost-kiss in half-assed defiance. "tch. here i am, trying to be sweet, and you ruin it all. boys like you have only one thing on their minds."

"hey, you started it! besides, are you telling me you wouldn't wanna taste of my lollipop?" you smirk, gazing at his side profile. he's drop dead gorgeous, all full lips and big eyes, and you could easily while away your days doing nothing but admiring the symmetry of his features.

taehyung rolls his eyes, but there's no heat to it. he sniffs. "you wish. you wouldn't last long enough to enjoy the view."

you place a hand over your heart. "careful, pretty boy, or you and your mean insults could remain part of me for a long, long time. words hurt, you know?"

"what do i have to be careful for? you like me too much to do any lasting damage to me. it's nice, really. nice to know you love me – in your own, silly little way." he pokes your chest, and you catch his hand in yours and lift his knuckles to your lips. the ghost of a kiss shivers over his skin.

"silly?" you parrot, returning his hand to him with a knowing look. you rest your hip against the top of the chain-link fence, casting a glance casually over the field. "you think my acts of love are silly?"

taehyung hums, leaning over and grasping your chin. he turns your face towards him. "'sweet', then – that's probably a better word for it. none of my exes ever did what you do for me. not even close. i'm sorry, baby – please don't pout."

"i'm glaring, actually," you huff. "this is my glaring face."

"don't, you'll get wrinkles," taehyung chides. he glances around, and swiftly, like a little bird, flits up on his toes to press his lips against your cheek. in the blink of an eye, he settles back into place on his side of the fence. he sighs, and a sudden weight slumps his shoulders. you straighten, turning towards him properly.

"he noticed you," he says, his voice lower than usual. "pointed you out to me as a potential boyfriend."

the smile you were wearing drops like a stone. "he did?"

taehyung doesn't trust himself to speak; he nods instead, staring at his shoes.

"well," you say, at a loss for words. "i mean, he's tiny. what's he gonna do to me?"

his head snaps up and the intensity of his gaze catches you off-guard. "don't underestimate him. you can't. he – he can do more than hurt you. he'll ruin you.

"no, no – don't roll your eyes," he snaps. "i know, i sound paranoid, but you haven't even been here for six months. you haven't seen what i've seen." his focus flickers to your surroundings, and he seems uncomfortable even when he leans in to whisper. "please. keep away from him, don't tell anyone about us, and for the love of god, stop visiting my house after curfew. he's whip-smart – he notices it once, he'll catch on like that." he snaps his fingers. "also, we have a change of plans. mark's off the table – jimin wants him."

at that, the corners of your mouth turn down. you cross your arms. "not if i get there first."

"baby – baby, look at me. you can't risk it."

"fuck," you hiss between your teeth. you clear your throat and wipe the expression off your face, flawless neutrality taking its place. it still simmers under your skin, but it's always easier to sweep something under the rug than clean it up. "fine. i can bring a friend over tonight instead. it'll be easy enough – these sheep will follow me anywhere. we can... have him for dinner."

taehyung's eyes glimmer, the hint of a smile playing at his lips. the worry's sloughed off his shoulders for now, and that's as good as you can hope. "i've always loved your lamb steaks. i've been waiting for this – for you. i'll be at yours by seven sharp."

"wear your pretty clothes," you hum almost offhandedly as you survey your fellow students. there's not a care in the world in those empty heads. "something black – and sexy."

taehyung flicks his bangs out of his eyes. "everything i wear is sexy. you'd do well to remember that."

"yes, dear."

—

his hands shake. that oil-heat, sweat-sheen, bone-crunch. his breath rattles through his lungs like the tongue of a too-small bell.

the weight of the kitchen knife in his hand is too much – he lifts it, and it tilts forward dangerously, trembling in his red-wet palm. the silver glimmers and flickers under the yellow shed lights.

a warmth behind him, a sturdy presence – tender hands slide down his arms, tracing him from collarbone to wrist like a delicate porcelain doll. they fold around his slim fingers, big scarred knuckles too worn to be a boxer's – they wear gloves for protection.

"split the skin shallow, so you don't pierce the meat," you murmur, your breath hot against his ear. you guide his hands with your own, slowly pressing down until the pop of released pressure signifies the beginning of the cut. "all the way down, just like that... good. you slip the knife under the skin and peel it back, making a scything or slicing motion to cut the membrane. long, slow strokes to control the angle of the blade. you want the meat nice and lean."

the night is still and silent outside, not a cricket or dog to be heard. the rushing of taehyung's pulse is loud enough for them all. he can feel your excitement against him – the quickened breathing, the thudding heart, the hitched gasp when his grip tightens on the knife and steadies.

"perfect," you croon in his ear, an undercurrent of a growl echoing beneath your words. "take your time. i want your first time to be..."

you shift against him, and he feels something prod his backside. he bites down on the inside of his cheek to silence himself and takes a deep, shaky breath, pressing down with the knife. sinew and muscle part easily under the sharpened blade.

"it's easier," he whispers, barely a breath, "than i thought it would be."

"you're doing very well, but remember, i'm guiding you. you won't find a better person to teach you."

your hands are big and knowledgeable over his own, each arc of the knife steady and precise. the blood warms his skin up to the knuckles, but it pales in comparison to your own, smeared up past your wrists in a deep ruby red. a bucket by the leg of the table is full of gore, intestines wrapped around a bladder and stomach and hacked-off chunks of fat. it was a job too bloody and slippery to give to your pretty shrike.

"this will be your steak," you hum, stroking the heavy, lick-wet cut of meat almost reverentially. you press your lips to his shoulder, then to his temple. he can feel your smile against his skin. "perfect knifework. it's almost as if you've done it before."

"well, it's like you said," taehyung breathes, gently placing it in the metal bowl at the top of the table. a secondary bowl beside it is already filled with some lesser cuts of meat, which you'd done to kill time before his arrival. "there's no better person to teach me."

he turns around in your arms, carefully linking his bloodied fingers behind your head. he noses your jaw, his lips brushing over yours. the strappy black top he wears clings to him like a second skin, and the gap between it and the top of his pants reveals his toned stomach, flexing now as he presses his hips against your thigh. he whines softly as you knock his knees apart and slide your leg between his with a teasing grin.

"no need to play coy, beautiful," you purr, digging your palms into the edge of the table. "if you want it, just ask."

"but where's the fun in that?" he gasps as you nip the soft skin of his neck, canines making reds and purples bloom across his sun-kissed skin. "o-oh – y-you know you shouldn't do that, baby. not so high."

with a furrowed brow, you growl softly, slowly rocking your thigh against him. "rules, rules, rules... why does he dictate your life like this? scared of being tossed aside?"

taehyung shakes his head, his head falling back with a moan. for someone who doesn't like being marked up, he sure does make it easy. he exhales as your breath trails up his throat and over his jaw. "he's not. he doesn't."

"yet you pretend as if we've never met when he's around, and you don't say anything when he forbids you from working with your hands. he thinks you should stay clean and pretty because he likes it that way. he holds you back, and you let him."

you punctuate your words with a fist around his throat, slowly pressing in. the flush that'd dusted his chest and neck while working the knife spreads to the apples of his cheeks, sweet and shy. his breath catches, and he looks up at you through the dark forest of his lashes.

you can almost understand jimin's rules. someone as beautiful as him shouldn't need to mar his skin with stains and calluses. that he still desires it – desires to delve deep into the marrow of mortality, watch it squeeze out between his knuckles – turns your stomach, in sickness or adoration.

"i'm sorry," taehyung nearly whimpers, panting short and shallow as his blood-slick hands scramble at your shoulders and chest. his eyes are black with lust and his pulse throbs under your fingers. "i know. i just don't want to upset him. i care about him."

you don't look away when you grab one of his hands, resting over your heart. you lift his knuckles to your lips and, under the heavy haze of hunger, he watches as you wrap your lips around two of his fingers. your cheeks hollow, and your tongue swirls slowly around each joint, as if savouring more than the iron taste.

he swallows thickly as the hand around his throat shifts, less to choke and more to pull close. his heartbeat thuds at the back of his throat.

pinned between your body and the table, the tiny shed door locked behind you, he realises suddenly what it must feel like to be your prey. you have a visceral animal strength about you, muscles like steel cable wound tight, always on the brink of snapping. only the patience of a tiger in wait keeps the mask from slipping, breaking.

your canines graze his finger, held firm in the heat of your mouth. the look in your eye says it wouldn't take much to release that perfectly wound tension, to let the slick nubs of your teeth open him up.

the look in his eyes invites you to.

eventually, you pull away, a satisfied smile splitting your face. you crush your lips against his, nicking his lower lip, and he moans at the warm iron flooding his mouth. greedily, your tongue laps at the stinging cut.

"fuckin' perfect," you husk, gaze flickering down to the red smeared over his throat and jaw, then further down to the obvious bulge in his pants. you snicker. "hm. need help with that?"

"please." he reaches down, as if to undo the buttons right there and then.

you grab his wrists and tut. "sweetheart, not over our dinner. you know better than that."

he groans. "it's your fault for driving me crazy!"

in response, you just laugh and grab the bowls of steaks. it's a surprisingly light sound even though you were ready to eat him up mere moments ago. "come on, then. we've got all the good cuts already. head in and put these in the fridge; i'll deal with the carcass. i'll be quick, i promise."

"you better be," he mutters, loosening the latch on the door. "i'll kill you otherwise."

when you open the door to your bedroom, halfway through drying your hands on a tea towel, you are greeted by the sight of an angel on your bed, long slender legs spread just for you. you toss the towel onto a nearby chair and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. you let out a slow, appreciative wolf whistle, smirking when taehyung's eyes snap open and he bolts upright. he relaxes at the sight of you, one hand already slipping back between his thighs.

"you're not much of a gentleman, leaving me alone to entertain myself. you have to make it up to me."

"demanding little thing." you click your tongue, leaving the door open and approaching him on the bed. he leans back against the piled-up pillows, sighing softly as his fingers slip back inside himself. they do so with whorish ease, and the smoky darkness of his gaze is smug.

a challenge, then? you can do that.

your fingers glide over the back of a chair, slow and thoughtful. you drag it to the end of the bed and straighten it to face him. he shivers slightly in the warm night as you take a seat, leaning back and spreading your knees. one hand rests casually on your leg and the other props itself up on the armrest, curled in a loose fist.

he pulls his fingers out slightly. you snicker at the confusion in his flickering gaze. "what are you getting up for? i was just getting comfy."

"i—" he falters. almost indifferently, his fingers glide in and out of himself, keeping himself hard while he gathers his thoughts. "but you promised you'd fuck me tonight... killing always did rile you up, red-blooded beast that you are."

"beast?" you parrot, exaggerating a pout. "aw – and here i was, thinkin' i was more than an impressive cock to you." you run your thumb over your nails, your eyes flicking to his open legs and sticking there as he pulls his fingers out to pump his dick twice, thrice. his hand travels back down. "no. i promised no such thing. after all, you've got a date with your pretty boy tomorrow, yeah? don't want him wondering why you're so loose for him, do you?"

he whimpers softly at the mention of it. his fingers dig deeper inside him, upping the pace, and his cock pulses with need. "n-no... i-i mean, i could just say i got a bigger toy..."

"oh, no, sweetheart – if you like a man, never tell them your toy is bigger than them. 'specially them rich types. they bruise easily." you sigh softly, thumb gliding over the edge of your jawline. his twitching cock blushes under the hunger of your gaze and his hole clenches. "you'll just have to wait it out. patiently."

"but i want you." he gasps, the wet squelch of lube making everything ten times dirtier. his breath quickens and he adds a third finger, shuddering at the stretch. "ah– baby, please, i've already been doing this for ages—"

"i didn't ask you to."

"your fingers are thicker than mine," he whines, eyes growing big and ever-so-slightly teary. he's good, you'll give him that. the slight lip tremble, the shaky breaths. you could make him cry properly. he's always been a pretty crier. you wonder if his eyeliner will run.

he sinks his fingers in until the knuckle and he moans, bucking onto his fingers. "god, won't you just fuck me already? why touch yourself when you can touch me? i can see how hard you are!"

you lift your hand off the bulge in your jeans and undo your belt teasingly, thoughtfully – as if you might take him up on that tasty, tasty offer. you lean back in the chair and exhale softly as you free yourself from the confines of your underwear. your cock taps your stomach and taehyung keens, unable to tear his eyes off of it as you wrap your hand around its base, stroking shallowly.

"w-wait," he gasps, beginning to pull his fingers out, "wait, i wanna – let me—"

"no," you say sharply, movements halting. "sit back. i didn't tell you to stop."

"but i can—"

"taehyung."

he quietens, chastened but obedient. he gnaws on his lower lip as his hand returns to its rightful place. he quivers as he watches your palm smooth over your tip and slide back down, precome bubbling from the slit. he can feel his own smearing over his bare stomach, hotter than his warm skin.

instinct takes over. over and over. over and over.

he's such a good boy for you – he's wasted on a creature like jimin. then again, are you really better than him? just the same, you've denied him his basest needs. to part flesh with steel, impart bliss with lust – you've just dropped one piece of control for another.

no. you can be better. you are better.

taehyung gasps sharply as you all but lunge at him, pinning him to the bed by his throat. his golden hair haloes him on the crumpled white blankets, like a gilded apollo so gently posed against marble. he blinks slowly up at you, eyes soft with worship and dark with desire, and kisses the thumb tracing the cupid's bow of his lips, a hand curled around your wrist. the other reaches for you.

you groan softly as he pumps your cock, twisting his wrist expertly. your belt buckle clinks and he giggles, eagerly reciprocating your greed. he hooks his legs loosely around your thighs.

"and you were the one preaching patience," he hums as you lean away to tug your shirt over your head. it gets tossed into a corner without so much as a glance and taehyung flushes at the view, half-lidded gaze raking every inch of revealed skin like a man starved. "oh..."

"how many times have you seen me shirtless?"

"not enough." he grabs your hand and pulls you into him, his hands locking behind your head and tugging you into a heated kiss. "you're also not bloody enough for my liking."

without waiting for a response, his teeth clamp down in the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the meat is soft and muscle is taut.

pain blooms like a shard of ice, sudden and sharp. a decisive movement, it left no room for bruising. taehyung groans, guttural, and digs his teeth in deeper, if only to keep the wound open for longer. his fingernails print stinging crescents into your biceps and he whimpers, eyes rolling back, as you shove his head into your neck, forcing the blood down his throat.

melting heat and iron, the sharp tang dissolving into sweetness – his tongue laps at the oozing wound, the arc of his teeth imprinted forever into your skin until the white of your bones will gleam under the midday sun.

when you allow him to pull away, his eyes are black, dazed and blissful. he smiles from ear to ear, teeth red and stained down the chin and throat, and crushes his lips against yours, tangling your hair in his grip and moaning sinfully loudly. his cock throbs, crushed between your bodies, and he bucks against your shaft, the vein on the underside catching against the ridge of your tip with a shuddering bolt of pleasure.

"i'm yours! i'm yours, all yours," he whispers fervently, obsessively. his tongue swipes over his lower lip, the oily heat marking him just like a sheep bloodying the muzzle of a wolf.

he smiles. he laughs. he presses your foreheads together, his stomach slick with his orgasm, and kisses you again, this time sitting upright in your arms.

"you're good to me. so, so good to me." he leaves the print of his lips against your throat and jaw like a jealous girlfriend, your own blood a perfect valentines' red. "fuck me – please? or i could suck you off, if you're still worried about tomor—oh!"

you flip him over and pull his hips towards you, slotted perfectly between your thighs. his own shine with excess lube and you push your cock between his plush thighs, thrusting impatiently to coat it. over his shoulder, he watches, wide-eyed, as you drag a few fingers up your chest towards your shoulder – towards the red bite mark leaking down your chest.

you smear the blood on your cock. taehyung's core throbs – his back arches. he nearly screams as you yank him onto your cock, burying yourself hilt-deep in not-enough thrusts. his mouth falls open as the burn sears its way up his spine and caresses his brain. he swears he can feel you in his throat.

"fuck! fu-fuck," he burbles, crying out as you set a steady pace, your hips slapping against his ass. you push his knees together with your own and his eyes show their whites, mouth open in a perpetual moan. he buries the chants into the pillow, staining it with blood, and his knuckles whiten around fistfuls of blanket as your cock scrapes his insides so deliciously, stabbing and thudding against his prostate. "fuck, oh my god, fuckfuckfuck—!"

you click your tongue, gaze glued to the point where you meet. "you've got a mouth on you, haven't ya? should fuck you until you forget how to talk. that'll clean you right up, nice and ready for your little boytoy. would you like that, sweetheart?"

"fuck, daddy, please, yes please," he whines, letting the pillow swallow the rest of his sounds. the ricochet of skin on skin echoes loudly in the cosy bedroom, and his cock throbs as it swings between his creamy thighs. shit, you could watch the ripple of his ass until the day you died, and none of it would be wasted time. you're beginning to suspect he has a stronger hold on you than you thought.

your shoulder stings like a bolt of clarity and you growl, grabbing and pulling his hips to meet your thrusts. he whimpers at the sound. "what an obedient pup. a little eager, but i s'pose that's normal, given that tonight was your first time." you huff and slap his thigh, making him yowl and his hips jerk. "wasted, you are. such steady hands. i could use someone like you."

"y-yes, yes, use me – ah, ah – love being used! mmn—!"

"not quite what i was saying, but i'll let it slide." you slam your hips into him and he chokes on it, letting his head falls limply to the pillow. he hasn't felt your cock in so, so long – he can't believe he'd almost forgotten how good it felt, how it filled him up just right to knock his brains out. you gripped him so tightly, too, as if he might get up and leave at any time – but you should know by now that he'll always be the one running back to you, that sick glint in your eye only making him swoon harder.

you had a few bad habits, sure. a few dark fantasies. but so did taehyung. and now he had your blood in him – your essence, the purest part of you – which could never be taken away, even if the elders found out about your relationship. they could take you, but not the part of you that you'd planted deep inside him. they'd never be able to dig it all out. you were a rot to their perfectly-tended garden, and taehyung wouldn't let you be cut out so easily – not when you were so sweet on the tongue.

he licks his lips, the faint taste of what remains fluttering his heart. he'd been careless with his moans, the cries of your name like a prayer. he found so many little deaths with you, and the best ones came screaming.

suddenly, emptiness – you pull away, hand slipping out of his. you halt, stiller than the dead.

hoarsely, taehyung whispers your name, a whine on the tip of his tongue. "n-no... so close, was so close, please..." he turns around.

his heart drops like a stone.

"hello," says jimin, in a voice like silk.

"baby, put the knife down," taehyung stammers, all pleasure doused by the sight of that too-big blade pressed up against your throat. "don't."

"why should i?" he adjusts it, nicking a fine pink line beneath your ear. red beads along it like a string of pearls. "he's a killer. he must be cleansed, same as the rest."

unconsciously, taehyung wipes his mouth, as if your influence on him could be removed so easily. he can still feel the heat of it pulsing against his lips. "but he's mine."

you roll your eyes, hands open and half-raised. of all the things he could've said...

yet, it seems to give him pause. the kitchen knife almost loosens – almost. he tugs your hair roughly, punishingly, and you grunt as the blade whispers against your skin. you have half a mind to teach him a bloody hard lesson, but taehyung might not like that.

"wait!" taehyung darts forward, hand outstretched. he slumps on the bed in front of jimin, gripping the sheets. "how – how did you find us?"

"i followed your ex," jimin replies, observing the wet blood painting half of your chest. the red against your skin is rather pretty... and it's in the shape of taehyung's teeth. "this mark is good at covering his tracks. not so much for those of others."

taehyung's eyes widen. no. you promised to stay away from his ex! then again, he never did see the face of the meat he was cutting up... and you weren't one to be one-upped by the likes of jimin.

"he's not a mark," he pleads, "not officially. he could join us! how many people has he already killed? how long did it take for you to realise? you only found him because he was too rash with this one."

jimin's eyes narrow. "all that tells me is that he grew cocky and let his guard down."

"the mark was cruel to me. he did it for me," taehyung implores, his eyes earnest. "he loves me. and i love him. put down the knife. initiate him."

you frown. initiate?

for a long time, jimin says nothing. he doesn't move.

he lifts the knife. taehyung's eyes widen.

he raises his hands in surrender. he huffs and crosses his arms, drumming his fingers against his arm as he cocks a hip. his skirt and knitted vest give him the impression of a private-school kid, although the short sleeves of the dress shirt seem a touch too tight to be unaltered. he wears a shiny pair of tall, heeled mary janes, but you hadn't heard him until the knife was at your throat. odd.

"fine," he drawls, eyeing you with a slight curl to his upper lip. "you have two minutes to convince me. you're so lucky i like you, tae. wh—i mean, why do you even care? you said he wasn't your type."

"well," he searches carefully for the right words, "things change. and he fucks me the way i like it. you can't tell that from a glance."

jimin's gaze strays briefly downwards, over the shine of blood and flexing muscle. you're still hard, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your lips twitch up into a smirk. you adjust your undone jeans and cross your arms.

eventually, jimin steps closer, reaching out curiously to prod at the bite mark. ruby red oozes, and he watches closely as your eyes flutter briefly shut. his tongue glides over his glossy lower lip. "hm... but he's still a killer. i don't know what makes him more useful to me alive."

it's as if a lightbulb flashes over taehyung's head.

he leans forward, resting a hand on your thigh. he tilts his head against your hip. "maybe you can... try him. see from my perspective."

"i'm not getting on my knees," jimin scowls immediately, "not for a sinner."

"but you don't mind it when i do?"

jimin opens his mouth. he closes it. he throws his hands in the air, knife waving around carelessly. "we're not the same! i'm already doing you a kindness by letting him live this long. i should be flaying him right now for tainting your body with his filth. you're supposed to be pure. unsullied."

"pure?" you repeat, scoffing. you can only stay quiet for so long. "oh, you lot are crazy-crazy. worse than me."

his eyes narrow and his knuckles whiten on the knife handle. taehyung shoves himself between you, gripping your hand in his own. "no! stop it, both of you! if you kill each other, who's gonna take care of me? i'm still hard."

he's the perfect height for you. you prop your chin on his shoulder with a lazy grin, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. you play with his cock, making his breath stutter. "you're right as always, sweetheart... how cruel is he for cockblocking you? you deserve everything in the world and more..."

jimin's fingers twitch. taehyung bucks shallowly against you, but you keep him firmly in place as you stroke his cock, already sensitive. you kiss his neck. you haven't taken your eyes off of jimin.

he presses his thighs together as taehyung lets out a soft whimper.

"come on, sweet thing," you croon into his ear, cupping his chest and grazing his nipple. "don't you want my cock?"

gulping, he tries not to show how affected he is by the hardness pressing against his ass. "a-ah, um..."

"what was that?" you flick your wrist roughly and taehyung's eyes shoot open. blood fills his mouth from a bitten cut in his cheek.

nervously, he lifts his eyes to jimin's. his gaze is fixed on your hand and the way it engulfs taehyung's cock, flicking over his slit and grazing the veins with your nails. "i want – i w-want..."

"say it, tae."

the words come not from your lips, but jimin's. two fingers slip into taehyung's ass and he jolts with a sweet moan as you curl them.

"i want your cock," he rushes out in one breath. "fuck, i want it so bad."

"even more than your boyfriend's?" your words are sly, coated in a thick layer of faux innocence. "why?"

taehyung doesn't bother answering. you know the answer – so does jimin. he turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands, bringing you down for a desperate, hungry kiss. you thrust your fingers into his hole and he jerks, clamping down around you. you swallow his moans, pumping your fingers teasingly.

"i wonder," you drawl, kissing a trail up taehyung's neck, "if he likes watching. maybe that's why he doesn't want to date you. he wants to sit back and watch as other men ruin your pretty little body – after all, it's hard to enjoy the faces you make when preoccupied with doing all the real work."

the sharp intake of breath and the way he clenches around you tells you what you want to hear. he looks up at you with those dark, dark eyes, his breath quick and shallow, and leans into it when you sit him down on the bed with a creak. swiftly, he turns over, arching his back and wiggling his ass. he gazes back at you with huge eyes as you remove your pants. he's almost shy – though the twitching cock leaking down his thigh is anything but. red and angry, it demands attention.

you glance at jimin. the knife's still in his hand, but the thought of it seems secondary to the sight of taehyung on his hands and knees. you can hardly blame him.

from the edge of the bed, you grab the bottle of lube taehyung had brought with him. you slather a generous amount onto your cock and push a few fingers into taehyung with the remnants, exhaling softly as he pushes his hips back against your knuckles.

"my perfect boy." you scissor your fingers, then slide them out. "c'mon – don't be shy. show your dear jimin how well i stretch you out."

he glances your way sharply. you're already staring at him, grinning in the airheaded, cocky, handsome way that all popular boys seem to know intrinsically. the soft lips, the blood, the way you manoeuvre taehyung's body around yours as if he's a prop to make you look better... every jock knows that rising in the ranks means he needs to talk louder than the next guy, take up more space than the next guy, have prettier girls on his arms than the next guy. they say confidence is key, but that's only good at pool parties where nobody wants to really call anyone's bluff.

you're the only one who does it right. you're the only one with a cock to match that body.

taehyung exhales shakily as he reaches back and parts his asscheeks, fingers digging harder than necessary into the plump meat. he hides his burning face in the sheets as jimin steps closer, and his breath quickens as you tap your cock against his ass, teasing his hole with your tip.

"cute, isn't he? surprisingly sweet, too. thought he'd be more of a brat when i first saw him," you hum, casually stuffing your cock into him in one smooth movement. taehyung yelps and lets out a quivery little moan, his slick walls clenching around your thick cock. he sounds like he's trying not to cry – you sigh patiently and pet his hair before your hands return to their rightful places on his hips to pull him onto you.

his body jolts with each thrust, his muffled cries breathy and whiny. his ass ripples with the slap of your hips. on a particularly rough thrust which has him seeing stars, he whimpers out a "daddy" that has jimin's breath hitching audibly.

"good, baby," you husk, palms gliding down his body appreciatively. you slap his ass – so hard your palm stings – and he chokes, already-wobbly knees giving out beneath him. he catches himself just in time but the angle has your cock driving deeper inside him, oscillating wildly from kissing his prostate to fucking his brain out his ears.

you grab a fistful of his hair and loom over him, your lips brushing his earlobe. his spine arches when you tug roughly, his eyes rolling to show their whites as your cock throbs inside him, each thrust wet and slick. "tell him how you feel, whore," you murmur, soft but loud enough for your voice to carry. he gasps sharply at the title and his aching cock leaks like a faucet into a puddle of his own precome. he shakes his head, embarrassment hot in his core.

you tilt your head. "maybe i'll even let you suck him off."

"it f-feels good," he cries immediately. the quick, precise slapping of skin on skin echoes in the room. "i love your cock! i love tay-taking cock, love being fucked by big cocks – oh god! – 'n' yours is the biggest! love getting stretched wide on your dick, getting fucked 'til it hurts—! i-i never wanna come off, mm, i love being your cockslut – wanna be your bitch, your toy, all yours—" you bury yourself balls-deep in his guts and his mouth falls open, thick white come spurting from his tip; it's almost humiliating how you can make him finish without a single brush against his dick. he smiles, broad and wobbly. "ohhh..."

you peck his cheek, pressing against his back low and heavy like an animal. you grip his jaw. "coming already? don't go passing out on me," you chide, tilting his head in jimin's direction. "look at him. look. there we go. see how hard he is? he must like how obedient you get with me – with your daddy."

heat floods his body to the marrow. you've never used that title on yourself before – it's always been taehyung's thing, something you don't mind only because it's him. the raking burn of pleasure hurts, blooming from his cock all the way up his spine and out to his fingers and toes.

possession. it spins in taehyung's jumbled mind. you fuck him like you want to bruise your name inside him, forcing him to think of you and only you even when jimin sits on that chair in front of him, a perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his leaking length, just begging to be touched.

briefly, taehyung wonders how you might fuck jimin. he's giving you his infamous bedroom eyes, but there's an acrid darkness that taints his gaze. jealousy? inadequacy? scorn? taehyung's thighs are hot and sticky.

maybe you'd be rougher with him, tie him up and fold him in half with his legs over your shoulders. even as he distantly obeys your whispered order to open his mouth, and even as jimin slides his velvety cock between his lips, he can't stop imagining you behind jimin, manhandling him and forcing him to ride you to get off, even though jimin's such a pillow princess.

you grip taehyung's hips, sweat shining on your skin. you spread his ass and thrust deeper, smirking when he jerks forward, choking down the rest of jimin's dick and ripping a pleasured curse from his throat.

taehyung's limbs feel like jelly. he braces against jimin's hip, hooking his thumb under the hem of jimin's skirt to pin it back. as he sinks down on his cock, he chances a glance up.

rid of his little sweater vest and unbuttoned down to the navel, jimin does very little to chase his high. he meets taehyung's eyes and tilts his head slightly – he's almost perfectly still, and the only thing he does is gather his skirt in a fist. your quick, snapping pace sets taehyung's, and it's only by the blown pupils and pink-tinged cheeks that taehyung knows he's doing well.

"so," you begin, and your voice is remarkably steady. "did you come here intending to kill me?"

"please, i barely know who you are. there are others—" his breath catches, and he closes his eyes to steady himself "—others who're more deserving of atonement than you. which isn't to say i thought you a paragon of virtue – you're a handsome guy on a sports team, and sin comes to your type like moths to a flame. i knew i'd come to collect eventually, but you surprised me. congrats – not many can."

"did you watch?" you ask, patting taehyung's ass almost fondly. "he did so well with the – what did you call him? your mark? did you see how beautiful he looked, nearly orgasmic as he cut him open and warmed his hands with his blood? you must enjoy it, too – seeing the life fade from your victims' eyes. otherwise, you would've culled me the moment i took your kill."

his eyes narrow. "you're sick."

you laugh. "y'know, you and your little 'cult' aren't slick. i saw how pretty girls and guys don't shy away from the forest or the nasty parts of town because what they can do far outweighs the shard of glass a cokehead waves around. i thought it was a creative writing exercise gone crazy, something to explain the unusual disappearances around here. it was good for me, though. nobody'll raise a fuss if one more douchebag goes missing."

"i should kill you now."

"but then sweet little taehyung would be upset – you heard him." you pout. "besides, you must've liked something about me or you would've gotten rid of me as soon as i ravaged your favourite boytoy. do you have a thing for corruption? is that why you stayed, watched him come as soon as he tasted my blood? if you like, i'll let him bite the other side."

he pulls taehyung's throat down on his cock by his hair. taehyung eagerly laps up every throbbing inch he receives, nails digging into jimin's ass. he jolts and gags slightly as hot come pours down his throat without warning – his eyes flutter shut as his throat bobs, lips pressed against jimin's base.

"oh, i like you," you purr, something of a song lilting your voice. "are you as angry when you take cock, i wonder?"

"try it, i dare you."

you turn your attention to taehyung, who sits jimin's cock in his mouth like a good boy. he suckles softly, dazed and faraway. his walls are soft and hot, each gummy ridge stroking and clamping around you to pull you in as deep as possible when you finally, finally come, forcing him over the precipice as well for the nth time that night.

you pet his hair and he leans into it, moaning as you gently pull out, letting him sink into the mattress. thick come drips down his inner thigh, pooling in the dips of the bed. softly, you groan, gathering yourself and lavishing kisses upon kisses over his neck and shoulder. "what do you think, baby? should i fuck the cultist freak?"

taehyung pops off wetly, licking his lips. his chest heaves. it's hard to scoop his brain up off the floor, but the thought of the two people hottest people he knows putting on a show, all for him? "p-please..."

you raise your eyes, and meet jimin's glare with a smirk. "you heard him. don't wanna disappoint, do we?"

"you think you deserve to fuck me? after everything you've done? you don't even kill for a reason," he scoffs. "you're no better than an animal."

"what is it with you and prettyboy here thinking i'm less than human? you cower behind your righteous moral justifications when you take a life and hold me to the same standards, but animals don't have morals. i can only be one, baby, so choose."

jimin glowers.

"you've got me in a box," he admits eventually, and his expression twists as your smile turns gloating. "shut up. you can fuck me – just this once."

"those are dangerous gambling words," you tease, but lay back against the headboard, one hand behind your head and the other wrapping around the base of your cock. your absence above him makes taehyung blink – hard – before he shuffles after you like a sleepy puppy and buries his face in your shoulder.

his thighs still twitch every now and again, and he lifts his unfocussed gaze to meet jimin's. it clears, just enough, for a fat, satisfied grin to spread across his face and he shifts to spread his shaky legs, showing off the warm glazed mess between his thighs like a piece of art.

jimin's cock throbs. taehyung grins lazily, knowingly, eyes half-lidded and hungry. he slides your slick cock between the vee of his fingers and flicks his wrist. a pearl of precome beads along your slit and follows the line of a vein, gathering eventually along taehyung's slender finger.

unwise, a voice whispers in his head, regal and maternal, yet youthful.

with a sigh too breathy to be accidental, taehyung splays his fingers over his lips and tilts his head back, taking one finger at a time against his scarlet tongue to clean it. his lashes graze his cheeks. his eyes are black corridors of velvet, and he gives jimin's invisible leash a tug with a curl of his pretty fingers.

it was never that taehyung made it too hard to say no. he made it far too easy to say yes.

#no one look at my lack of header please i'll fix it soon i just lost my hdd with the files </3 #top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #top reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut #bottom jimin #jimin x male reader #jimin smut

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klausysworld · 6 days ago

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Left But Never Forgotten

Upon the Mikaelson's return to New Orleans, they each had their worries. Klaus was focused on his pregnant werewolf and the deep rooted need to be a king. Rebekah desperately wanted her past lover, Marcel back but also felt the need to protect her niece to be. Elijah was supposed to be concentrating on his brother and Hayley as they expected their child, or the mess that the divided factions of supernaturals in New Orleans was but instead, he was thinking of her.

Y/N.

He hadn't seen her since leaving New Orleans a hundred years ago. She and Marcel had been presumed dead, nothing had prepared him for seeing her face again.

Feeling her palm cup his cheek and her thumb stroking the prickle of stubble left on his skin. She was so similar and yet so different to the last time. Before she had been a princess, now she was a Queen.

Even when the Mikaelson's moved into the abattoir and his room was just beside hers, she still felt too far away.

Elijah felt as if he were just watching her life go by without him, it made him sick. He lacked the usual hunger of a vampire, the need to kill or hurt. He lost his passion to protect and guide.

He just wanted her.

Everyone knew that, except her.

Nobody understood the pain she and Marcel went through. They waited day in and day out for their family to come home, to tell them that it was okay and that Mikael wouldn't torture them again, that their nightmares weren't real and they were safe. They rebuilt the city brick by brick, cleaning away the ashes left behind but they still didn't come back. So they moved on. They worked together and they got stronger and they earned their power and their places and then they finally came back and just took it from them like it was nothing.

And Elijah had barely said five words to her.

He just stared, but whenever his lips parted no words would leave him. Elijah didn't realise she took that as something else. But for Y/N, she had been hoping to hear his voice for a century, crying for him in her sleep and now he was here and she felt like he didn't even care enough to talk to her.

She could have thought he didn't care at all if it weren't for the way he looked at her. The look of love in those deep eyes of his. That same look she used to see each morning and night.

Y/N wanted him to know that she still wanted him to look at her like that, she still wanted him like that.

So she tried to show him. A lingering touch hear or there, just on his arm or his shoulder. Or she'd bring him a cup of tea the way he used to like it, ask him about the literature he was reading most currently but he could barely get five words out.

So she tried not to focus on words, instead she gave him a kiss and hoped it was enough. It was.

Elijah hadn't exactly been expecting her to suddenly grab his face and push her lips against his but most definitely wasn't complaining.

Both hands lifted and cupped her face like all those times years ago, kissing her deeply like he'd craved to for so long. He needed her hands in his hair, to ruin the perfect facade he'd been wearing.

His tie was clutched into her palm and tugged gently, leading him with her to his room. He followed her mindlessly onto his bed, crawling over her and keeping his tongue with hers.

The desperation was so strong.

Elijah could feel the fabric of his tie slip from his neck. The buttons on his shirt slowly revealing more and more of his chest, he wanted to rip the clothes from her body but he couldn't stop holding her beautiful face.

It was when his belt was unclasped that he finally pulled away, looking down at her with lust blown pupils. His eyes swirled with that darkness that she enjoyed, her fingers traced the veins beneath his eyes before her thumb slid over his fang.

"I really missed you." She confessed to him and he softened, his hands finally dropping to her hips to pull her close.

"I missed you too, every day." He uttered, eyes flicking between both of hers.

"But you never came back..." She whispered and he looked down.

"I thought you were gone...I saw you, you looked...you didn't look alive. I couldn't bare coming back to the place that did that to you. I couldn't stand the memory of your body strung up like that." He told her shakily, his hands desperate to keep her with him this time.

"Marcel and I had to rip ourselves free of those nails, Elijah. I could hear you, you would have ran whether I was alive or not-"

"Don't you ever think that." He whispered, his hold tight now, both arms round her waist and her body in his lap. "I would never knowingly leave you for dead." He promised.

Her body rest against him, her face against his broad chest and warming his cold skin.

"I love you, Y/N. I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you." He murmured, lips kissing her shoulder gently after. "You mean more to me than anything. You're family."

"Don't lie to me, Elijah. I know I'll never be your family, I don't think anybody can truly become a Mikaelson. Hayley's the closest anyone can get and that's because she had Klaus's baby and we both know I can't give you a child." She practically whimpered.

Elijah just looked at her for a short while, guilt in his gaze. He could remember when she was human, when she didn't yet know he was vampire. She wanted them to have three children, when she found out he couldn't she thought maybe there could be a spell, there was still hope. However when she turned too, she knew that it was a useless thought and gave up altogether.

They had considered adoption but Y/N worried that if the child wasn't biologically a Mikaelson that they wouldn't truly love or protect the child. Not any of the Mikaelsons.

Of course she'd never verbally expressed that fear but Elijah could tell. Knowing that Klaus could procreate and he couldn't was difficult for him, just like he knew it was difficult for Rebekah knowing her brother could have a baby but she also couldn't.

But seeing Y/N hurt by it too was an extra hit to his heart.

After all these years, he still dreamt of their family. He'd be a much better father than Mikael, and she'd be a much better mother than Esther.

"It's not you who can't give me a child, Y/N." He murmured. "It's me, my fault. You can't blame yourself, I turned you and I took that possibility away but it will not ever change how I feel for you. You are my family, I'd carry you with me for eternity."

It was just difficult to believe with how that family behaved towards outsiders.

"Okay." Y/N whispered, it was clear she was only relenting to try not form an argument and Elijah wanted to be more reassuring but he knew it would only escalate things.

His hand reached to touch hers, hold hers.

"Allow me to court you again." He murmured, wanting to show her their potential again but she laughed softly and shook her head.

"I don't want us back at square one. I want it to be how it was before." She told him, smiling softly. It warmed him.

"I'd like that." He nodded, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "But I still want it to be special, I haven't been able to cherish you for so long now."

"I suppose I won't stop you from a gift or two." She teased and he hummed.

She looked back down at his bare chest and sighed, she'd missed this.

He pulled her back to his chest, coddling her to him and stroking her back lovingly.

The skin to skin wasn't something Elijah experienced often, he only allowed it when he truly loved someone. His mind and body craved it.

Y/N knew how deprived he was right from childhood. So, just like she used to, she pulled her shirt from her body and let the skin of her upper body lay against his.

"You know that I love you?" He whispered and she nodded.

"I just wish you'd talk to me more, I can't be with you if you can't even hold a normal conversation with me Elijah..."

"I know, my sweet. I was just so struck when I saw you and I feared that you could have moved on...with Marcel." He hesitated and she scoffed.

"Oh? And after he was making out with Rebekah? That didn't clue you in, no?" She teased and he looked down with an embarrassed smile.

"I was shy I suppose." He admitted and she smiled.

"You used to be shy all the time." She whispered, stroking his hand and leaning up to kiss the corner of his lips like she used to.

He leaned forward and leant his forehead against hers, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I."

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pankowstuff · 2 months ago

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rudy pankow as jj maybank — icons.

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bestedoesmeow · 2 years ago

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✮ BLOCKED BY ✮

Charles Leclerc social media au*

y/n finds out famous formula driver charles leclerc blocked her one day when she wanted to scroll his feed to see if he is worth that much hype :)

ALMOST A WEEK LATER

Charles_Leclerc sent you a message.

⤥

charles_leclerc : Hey!! People have been sending me messages about the blocking thing

charles_leclerc : I don't know how and when did this happen, I don't remember blocking anyone unless they are a hater

charles_leclerc : I am sorry for the inconvenience

charles_leclerc : Maybe it was little Charles who did it, you know when I was a teenager and I maybe saw your tweet about something I absolutely love and I decided to hate you because you said something bad about it.

charles_leclerc : Again, sorry🙏

yourusername : Hi! Charles, I was kidding no hard feelings.

yourusername : I thought I did something bad and wanted to fix my mistake

yourusername : Thank you for the unblock, and being kind!

yourusername : Wish you luck on the next race!

charles_leclerc : Oh, thank you I appreciate it.

charles_leclerc : You did nothing trust me ahahaha! Actually I should fix my mistake instead

charles_leclerc : Would you like to be my special guest for the next GP? You'll have an excellent time at the paddock club!!

charles_leclerc : If you are available, I would like to fix my mistake 🙂

yourusername :Don't be silly, its nothing you don't have to get me a ticket or anything.

yourusername : It was already so kind of you to take your time to message me :) Again like I said, no hard feelings here!

charles_leclerc : Actually I'd love to get you a ticket and meet you! I am not doing it because I have to.

charles_leclerc : Send me your e-mail would you? Your tickets will be delivered there until tomorrow!

yourusername : Oh my god, SHUT UP

yourusername : I can't accept it you did nothing wrong omg

charles_leclerc : Please?

BRITISH GP

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x female reader #formula one #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 au #formula 1 headers #formula 1 x reader #Charles Leclerc twitter au #formula one x reader #f1 social media au

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sashi-ya · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

STICKY HONEYMOON 🍼 SABO X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 9: CREAMPIE

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Hey! 🎀 May I request Sabo(OP) x female reader for the 9th day, please? I'm not sure if I can ask for this, but let it be in the style of Fluff with a bit of spice, just like our blond. Thank you and wishing you inspiration! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. as requested it is fluffy and smutty 💕 a couple of newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon with loads of sex. cream pie. masturbation. and so much lovemaking. 🐙 wc: 1,1 k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

Arms like snakes all around your body. Sabo’s golden locks grazing your nape, his nose buried on your spine. Warm breath wetting the space in between your shoulder blades. His fiery hands hanging on your belly, hardness against your ass…

“Nmhg…” Sabo mutters, as he inhales the scent of your skin. It is late, very late. Night has fallen some hours ago, with bodies sore from the day… you’ve chosen your honeymoon to be an adventurous one.

“Mh? What is it, babe?” you ask, lifting your ass a little bit more so that you can feel his erection growing bigger against you. Being the little spoon with your now husband, is all you want for the night.

Sabo knows, exactly, what you are doing. And excitement, lust and need turns a little flame into a big fire…

“I love you…” he murmurs, planting a peck on your shoulder. His hips begin to move; it feels as if he was dry humping on against your buttocks. “I still can’t believe you have finally become my wife…”

You smile against the pillow, a beam so big can’t even fit your face. Sabo can be this and even more romantic when it comes to you.

“I love you too, my sweet husband…” you whisper back, passing your hand to the back, caressing his hip side with a loving sexy graze. Such graze, then, turns into your nails clawing into his milky skin… and that, to him, it only means one simple thing; go ahead Sabo-kun, fuck me!

Needless to say, both lay naked on silky sheets. Already sweat imbued fabric, as it’s been putting up with nights of hot love making sessions. And tonight, it won’t be the exception.

“What you want, mh? You want me deep inside you again?” Sabo asks, whispering right into your ear, biting your lobe right after.

You giggle, once again your nails carve marks on his flesh. Pulling him even closer to your ass, you can even feel how his hard sex slides in between your cheeks.

“Deep, yes. Very deep, babe… plus, this time, I want you to fill me up with your cum” you request; the intimacy of your relationship has stripped you from any shame whatsoever.

Sabo grunts, there is only so much a man can take. He can be strong, but those words are simply a detrimental move you have just made.

His right hand slides down your waist up to your lower belly and then to your sex. His fingers wander through your anatomy, separating your folds just enough to reach your clit. Sabo finds those lands as expected; wet, more than dampened. He gloats, he knows his dick will slide so deliciously in and out, and the sound of every ram will be music to his ears.

He begins tracing circles on your pleasure button, as his free hand reaches for your left breast. Erect, hard, sensitive, that’s how he finds it everything he touches on your body.

You react to his pinching and massaging, whimpering low, jolting every time he stimulates it all at the same time. His sex, as well, hasn’t been left out of this intercourse prelude; it, by itself and powered by increasing hardness and throbbing pulses, moves in the search of your entrances. Coated by your honeys, that have already wet the inner side of your thighs, and mixing with his own precum, finds enough lubrication to finally meet with your fleshy folds.

“Fuck me, please…” his masturbation can be perfect, but the heat growing stronger inside you and walls that ache to be stretched get the best of you. “Fuck me, Sabo… I want you so deep inside of me…”

You didn’t need to ask, and still Sabo enjoys such pleading like a trophy, like a medal. Ego bursting; ego and shaft exploding.

“Are you sure you want me inside you, my sweet wife?” he asks, enjoying a little bit more how your hips move on their own, desperate to feel him pumping into you.

“Dear husband, if you don’t fuck me right now…” you playfully -and perhaps even a little cranky- threaten him.

The blond revolutionary laughs sweetly; there is nothing more he could ever want now than to fuck you as you ask. And so, he does…

On its own, with a simple forth hip movement, his sex finally penetrates you. It takes him no effort, as it seems your body has been made for his, and his has been made for yours. Truly soul, mind and flesh mates.

He hugs your waist from behind, ramming into you so deeply and violently, exactly as you like it.

The back of your head fall on his shoulder, reaching with your mouth his. Million kisses that deepen the more the in and out rhythm increases. It lets the commissure of your lips shiny, erratic tongues sometimes can’t be precise, and the need for oxygen also makes it even more messy.

And just as predicted, your juices both mix and let him move so perfectly in sync with you, and the sound of the slapping skins play a sinful ambrosial melody. But it is what abandons your lips from time to time what makes it even magical; whispered, breath, inhaled “I love yous” fill the room, the love nest you both chose to consummate your marriage.

Your milking walls, your spasming muscles, your moans and whines…

“Don’t stop… don’t… stop… I’m close, please-” “ngh… not… stopping….”

Your pleads. His grunts. The scent of sex...

“Were… you- for real? Inside?” “Fill me the fuck up Sabo, I beg you please… I am… about to… fuck…”

Sabo takes a deep breath; he needs to get ready; he is about to burst and your core to be flooded with his relief. Sabo is desperate, your climax keeps milking him with no mercy, it feels like you are going to drown his cum from him and he can’t stop it…

“Take it all inside babe… I want to make you so fucking full” he grunts, giving the final thrust to reach for the deepest possible spot.

You can’t even talk, you are just still orgasming, still trembling, savouring the incipient pulses of Sabo’s climax. His belly becomes hard, his arms lock you against his dick; there is no scape now, you are trapped there to be overfilled with his seed.

Seed so hot it feels like a burning fire taking over your womb, getting to every little corner of your anatomy, going in with pressure as Sabo pushes your lower belly down… oh, Sabo-kun… it feels like fire, it fills so good.

“I love you, my sweet husband… thank you for the treat” “We are just starting, babe… you are still not even remotely full of it”

Taglist of amazing babes: @kwnblack @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @votaeto @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓

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eyeheartboobiez · 1 year ago

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sugar daddy!bruce wayne hcs

warnings: lowkey smutty

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who brings you to all the galas as arm candy and loves showing you off whenever he gets the chance

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who enjoys spoiling you with random gifts that probably cost a fortune (you think it's influenced by his desire to put you on display)

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who knows all your sweet spots, who can practically play you like an instrument with all the little moans you let out for him

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who never rushes you to leave and actually encourages you to stay the night

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who's greedy and will gladly take anything you give him, whether it be seductive glances across the room or teasing pics throughout the day

Sugar Daddy!Bruce would be the type to let you freely use his money as you please. Often times he'll wake up in the middle of the night to find you next to him shopping online with his card

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who loves seeing you in beachwear. He often finds himself taking you on vacation trips or boat rides on his yacht just to see how pretty you’ll dress up for him

Sugar Daddy!Bruce is most definitely a munch and will literally go down on you every time you two are together (it's secretly because of the ego boost he gets from the way you cum for him)

Sugar Daddy!Bruce who more often than not finds himself staring at you in the mirror as you put your earrings on, a part of him wondering what it would be like if you just stayed…

a/n: the first version of this was actually way longer and in-depth, but i was unsatisfied with the direction it was going in... anyways i ended up scrapping it and i started over with this💀

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ox-imagines · 5 months ago

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Tokyo Debunker as Romance Tropes

Feel free to ask me to write a longer imagine/oneshot for any of these!

Pt. 7 | Obscuary

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6

Rui - Forbidden Love

You see Rui around campus fairly often in your time at Darkwick, and you think he’s wonderfully handsome and always seems to be in a good mood. You finally get the chance to properly meet him in the cafeteria one day when you turn around and almost run into him. He panics a bit and steps away from you quickly, which you interpret as a bit of a rude overreaction since you didn’t even actually touch him. He quickly apologizes and tells you he runs a bar on campus, inviting you to come let him make you a drink to make up for his reaction (hastily adding that the majority of the drinks he makes are in fact non-alcoholic). You take him up on his offer and find that he’s actually wonderful company, and he seems to quite like you too, though you’re not completely convinced he’s not just a flirt. Even so, you find yourself spending a good deal of time at his bar, talking to him late into the night, and after getting back to your dorm you usually message him on WickChat once he’s closed the bar down. You know you’ve gotten close with him, he genuinely seems to appreciate and enjoy your company and doesn’t seem to have many people he’s actually close with, but over time you feel like he’s starting to pull away. One night while there’s no one else at the bar and you’ve finally got his full attention again, you give in to your feelings and ask him out. You sincerely think you’re in love with him, and want nothing more than to hold him close while you talk rather than being on different sides of campus texting each other in the middle of the night. When you ask him out, his expression turns oddly sad, a look on his face you couldn’t have imagined he could make. He corrects it and gives you a polite, lopsided smile, but his eyes belie how he really feels as he lets you down easy.

“Look, there’s, there’s something I need to tell you. I can’t be with you, not in a way that’s more than what we already are. You ever notice how I always avoid touching you? Im cursed; I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry…”

Lyca & Ed - Vampire vs Werewolf

Lyca is a newly integrated student who’s having some trouble adjusting to his new life. It doesn’t help, though, that the other students treat him poorly or differently since he’s a werewolf. You see him for the person he is rather than his supernatural afflictions and treat him as such, working to help him fit in better with the human students. He ends up protective and a bit possessive of you and treats you like you’re the most important person in the world (of course besides Subaru, who was his first friend, and a man named Neros who you’ve gathered basically raised him). Things are going well until one of his dormmates comes into the picture. He’s complained about him before, and the first few times you visit their dorms Ed stays closed in his room. After your classes, you head over to Obscuary to find Lyca; he hasn’t been answering his WickChat today. When you get there, Ed’s door is open. You can’t help but cast a curious glance inside as you walk past to Lyca’s room. After all, you’ve never seen a real vampire. He’s gorgeous, with porcelain skin and well-kempt hair framing sparkling red-violet eyes. A small gasp leaves your lips and his sharp eyes flick up from his computer to meet yours. He grins, his expression a mixture of devilish and curious, and he rises elegantly and gets to his door surprisingly quick. You think to yourself that it’s good for Romeo’s ego that Ed acts like a hermit, because he has an enrapturing beauty about him that could definitely rival Romeo. Ed gets almost uncomfortably close, and you have a suspicion that he’s… smelling you? When Lyca hears Ed talking to someone, he quickly comes out of his room, placing himself between the two of you. His big silvery ears showing and flattened back angrily, he spits threats at Ed to stay away from you, but Ed just chuckles, winking at you before backing into his room. It doesn’t take long for you to realize this is your life now, Ed making sly, often suggestive comments and subtle advances and Lyca losing it with him over it.

“Don’t you look like a vision today? Any special reason?”

“I swear you moth-eaten Casanova, touch her again and I’ll rip your hand off myself!”

#tokyo debunker #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader #obscuary #rui mizuki #edward hart #lyca colt #I couldn’t not put Ed’s and Lyca’s together I had to do it to ‘em #I made the header picture for this one myself too bc there wasn’t one 🤪

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rivendell-poet · 4 months ago

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❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡?❞ « one-shot »

Pairing : Legolas X Reader

Wordcount : 4.3k

No TWs | Gender-neutral reader | Elf!reader | First part of this work

(Legolas POV - Italics means the dialogue is Elvish)

The first time Legolas had met you, or rather truly spoken to you, he was trying to solve a riddle from one of the books he’d procured in Rivendell. It wasn’t all a riddle book, most of it was a collection of Elvish poetry along with the occasional story or song, but he’d finished all of it, along with the other three riddles in that book, yet he still couldn’t figure this one out.

He’d taken to asking around for an answer to it, or at least for help, but because of the fact it was in Elvish only Aragorn and you could understand it. And Legolas quickly discovered that, despite his many good qualities, riddles and their solutions were not Aragorn’s strong suit. Which had left you to ask.

Legolas approached you quietly, as he always did, but you’d still heard him and turned around to greet him, smiling slightly as you shuffled closer to him.

He probably would have walked over to you even if he’d know the answer to the riddle, so he could see that pretty smile and talk to you for a bit. But what was he thinking? He had come here to ask you about a riddle, not to admire and stare (hopefully not too obviously) at you in the afternoon light.

“Do you need anything?” You asked, looking briefly at him and then at the book in his hands. Legolas smiled, and then took a few steps to sit down beside you, “Yes, actually. I’ve been reading this for a while now, and one of the riddles in it, I simply cannot understand. I was wondering if you could offer me your advice?”

You looked up at him for a second, then gestured to the book still in his hands, “May I?”

“Of course,” he began, as both of you reached for the other, there was a brief moment as his hand met yours. Just a brief touch, but Legolas could feel the tips of his ears turn a slight shade of pink, and thanked Valar that they were hidden behind his hair.

For a second he risked a glance at you, and then your ears, to see if he could perhaps spot the same thing? It was a silly idea, to think that you would be interested in him, but some part of him wanted to see anyway. But there was almost nothing on your cheeks, a faint rosy hue, but something that could easily have come from the heat of today. And Legolas wasn’t about to make assumptions, it would be unfair of him to spring unwanted feelings onto you, especially since the two of you had barely spoken.

You had now taken the book from him, and had begun to stare at the well pondered over page, reading the Elvish riddle with a slight frown. Then you looked up at him, “This is the riddle about what it cannot do, right? How it says ‘cannot be seen, cannot be felt’?”

“Yes, have you heard of it before?”

“Ok, it is. And yes, it’s one of the more common ones used in Rivendell. Children generally use it all the time, they think they're so clever when they get it right, or that they’re an idiot when they don’t,” you paused for a second, and Legolas hoped you wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Was it really that common of a riddle in Rivendell, yet he hadn’t figured it out?

You looked closer at him at that point, and he felt a bit of blush take over the embarrassment, “Oh - no. I didn’t mean it like that, it’s an annoying riddle to know the answer to,” you almost stumbled over your words. “Besides, I don’t like riddles anyway,” you trailed off, as if to say something more.

But whatever you were going to say didn’t matter so much, and Legolas felt himself smiling again, it wasn’t that he’d been being foolish, the riddle was just a harder one. Then he felt himself smile again, and he turned back to you in a lightly teasing tone, “It’s ok to call me a fool . I haven’t exactly the best record when it comes to riddles or poetry.”

You had let yourself slouch a little now, and a new, still just as beautiful, but less tense smile was on your face now, “Well, I’m awful at it too. We may suffer its confusion together,” at that, a laugh escaped him, as well as a small one from you, and he felt his heart grow lighter still. Was it really normal for him to have feelings about another elf so rapidly?

There was a brief, although not awkward, pause as the two of you sat together, before he could see Frodo begin to get up again, causing Aragorn to follow him. “We shall continue going forward, I want to get to the edges of these fields by midnight,” Aragorn proclaimed, looking around and slightly into the distance, before turning back to you, “Will you take the front?”

You had gotten yourself up at that point, “Of course. The ring-bearer in the middle?”

There was nodding, and small conversation struck up between the fellowship as they decided where to go in their march. Like most days, Legolas turned to Aragorn and then Gandalf, as he would walk by them, but both were already in company with one of the hobbits. He looked once more, not particularly wanting to be walking with the dwarf, or with whatever chaos Merry and Pippin were sure to bring. Stepping ahead again, he caught up to you, “May I scout with you? My usual marching partners have both found someone else, and I would like to appreciate the views with someone.”

That was the first time you two had walked together, and Legolas could feel the nervous beating in his heart as he asked, and waited for an answer. He could feel the strong blush in his ears, and the thankfully lighter on dusting his cheeks. He also felt the almost soaring sensation when you had said yes.

From the one the two of you had always gone on scouting missions together, or both stayed up to watch throughout the night. Even if neither of you had a specific job in the line, more often than not it was you and him walking together. And he loved that.

And now it was in a situation like this. Like most nights, Legolas had offered to take a night-watch (elves not needing as much sleep as the others) and everyone had instinctually looked to you as well, and your hand was already up. Lazily raised, but your eyes were shining and there was a smile on your face that grew brighter when you looked at him. At least, Legolas thought it did.

He still wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He knew of his feelings for you, of course. To him you were perfect, and would be the one forever. But how could he really say that to you? Or know that you felt the same way. Yes, you were around him most of all, and you seemed to share a special bond - but he didn’t want to be imagining all of that. He didn’t want to ruin what was already there.

And he was hesitant to get advice from any other members of the Fellowship, especially as they were not elves. Of course, they could fall in love and spend their lives together, but mortal lives were just that, lives. And if Legolas decided to love you, like he had, then he would love you for the rest of eternity, and that wasn’t something many other cultures understood.

But quite a lot of the Fellowship did seem supportive of the two of you. Even if most of it was Gimli making some sort of joke as the two of you went off together, prompting Pippin and Merry to start as well, it gave him quiet confidence that something was there between the two of you. And Aragorn knew, maybe even before Legolas had completely figured out his own feelings.

And it was Aragorn’s advice he was thinking of, as he gazed into the woods. Around them, only a few metres off, the rest of the Fellowship was sleeping. Only you and him were awake and still watchful in the moonlight. There was almost only moonlight as well.

With both of you being elves, you could rely less on fire to provide vision, and could instead gaze further into the darkened forest and still see if there was any danger. But all was calm, there wasn’t a single noise from the forest, and as both him and you sat in companionable silence, there was no noise from either of you. As he tried to listen, he realised he could still hear a few things.

There was a soft flickering from a lantern that was still on, positioned next to Merry’s bed, but only emitting the slightest bit of noise. And he could hear the soft breathing of everyone at camp, some hitched slightly, but most deep and calm. Yours was calm as well, content and peaceful.

Then he heard a slight shuffle, and he felt a weight against his back. Now Legolas could hear his heart, beating faster, as well as feel himself blush slightly more heavily. It was you, you were leaning up against his back, and looking up into the stars.

Surely this contact couldn’t be comfortable for you, he reflected, noting how you were lent up against the bit of armour he still had on. But he didn’t want to push you off either, his heart panged at the idea of losing physical contact with you. Instead, as gently as he could, he began to shift slightly and manoeuvre as to where you were still leaning on him, but much more comfortably.

Then the weight was gone, and he could feel you suddenly shift off him. Legolas turned around to look at you, and you smiled back at him, head still faintly titled back to watch the stars. You spoke, “Sorry, should’ve… asked permission, I know.”

He smiled at this, quick to reassure, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind it at all friend . I was simply curious as to what you were doing?”

Even though you’d been sitting in silence for the past hour, it was so comfortably easy to start a conversation, for both of you to bring out each other's smiles. And tonight was no exception, he looked at you a little closer. Was that a slight amount of blush on you? Even with the poor lighting, he could see it was. But was it because you loved him back, or was it just embarrassment?

“I was,” there was hesitation in your voice, so probably the latter he realised as his heart sank, “Observing our immediate upward surroundings, to make sure a… bird, doesn’t attack us while we’re sleeping.”

Legolas found himself laughing at that, although just a soft one. Not wanting to ruin the tranquillity of the firelight mood, or to make it seem like he was laughing at you. Suddenly unsure of himself, Legolas looked up towards the stars as well, “It is ok, I think the stars are very beautiful too.”

Then he caught himself. His heart was beating faster, much too fast. He thought back to what Aragorn had told him, and what he knew in his heart. Glancing around for a brief moment, everything seemed perfect to him. If he was ever to let you know he loved you, now would be the time. The hesitation had only been a second, but he felt uncertain. Then he opened his mouth to speak again.

“They are very pretty, my love.”

There was a pause between the two of you, and he looked back into your eyes, almost desperate. Please, give me a sign that you love me too? Legolas searched around your face, from the blush that had spread from your ears to your cheeks, and the fact your eyes almost seemed to sparkle. But then nothing, instead you gave a small smile, an obviously forced one, and turned from him to face the forest.

His heart fell. Nothing, he loved you, and would love you for the rest of forever, but it wasn’t the same for you. There was a second where his eyes blinked more rapidly, but instead he peered out into the night, searching for something that wasn’t there. Just like he’d seen something that wasn’t there. And now because of that he was stuck on watch with someone he’d poured out his heart too, who didn’t love him in return.

That incident had been last night, and it was the morning now. He hadn’t gotten much sleep at all, being kept awake by his aching heart. Not that elves like him needed much, to be fair.

Like usual, everyone else awoke - and Aragorn insisted on eating breakfast while on the move instead of sitting down to dine. Normally you would protest, and then the hobbits would join in (you telling him afterwards you wanted to watch the end of the sunrise with him) but there was no voice of complaint from you either, just a resignation as you got up.

Although you, and some of the fellowship had now started walking forward, Legolas waited a bit longer. If he stayed behind here, would you have waited for him to catch up? Six strides, seven strides, eight strides. It didn’t seem like it, and as he strode to not be felt behind by the party, he could hear whispers between Merry and Pippin.

The rest of the day was equally forlorn, him staying completely near the back until you and Gimli had both slowed your pace a little, as if to stay behind him. His heart had started to lift, the first hint of a smile, but then you turned briefly and faced Boromir, so he’d turned immediately to face Gimli, striking up a conversation with the dwarf based on faked enthusiasm - and not wanting to look at you being happy with someone else.

Eventually, you tried to approach him a few times, and his heart made it so he couldn’t bring himself to even look at you fully. Legolas gave short answers in the few times you spoke with him, and all of them were about what was currently going on (like a brief scouting report) and a brief moment of caring again, when he’d asked you what you ate.

But in all the conversations, he’d been quiet and reserved, trying to slip away as quickly as he could to scout or talk to anyone else. He couldn’t just pretend things would go back to the way they were, not if you didn’t love him but he loved you so dearly. And he didn’t want to force you to speak with him either, and approached with that awkwardness that you had - as though you didn’t want to be there.

The only words he had uttered that were about that night had been a brief phrase to you, “I’m sorry.”

But you had looked blank, and then he ran ahead again to the scouting position of the party before he could hear what you had to say. It was fine that you didn’t love him, but he didn’t want to hear you say that - or flounder around with words to pretend everything was ok.

The next day was the same, walking alone or with Gimli, even briefly along with Merry and Pippin (to see if their incessant joy could infect him) but that didn’t work either. When he’d approached them they looked shocked, and Merry had given some not-so-subtle glances to you, and then to him with concern on his face. Legolas had just told them not to worry, and tried to engage with them tales of Mirkwood instead.

Eventually, the company stopped for the night again. Basic camp was set up again, the two of you placing your sleeping mats almost on the opposite side of the circle the fellowship always seemed to make. Three larger logs, sturdy but long fallen, encompassed where you had set up camp, and like most nights people began to split into little groups and make small talk about the day's journey.

Legolas forced himself to sit down, shoulder slightly slumped in a way unlike him, and facing partially away from most of the circle, instead looking at Aragorn. The ranger noticed him almost straight away, and silently walked away from where he was sharpening his blade to sit down beside the elf.

“What’s wrong with the two of you?” came the soft words of Aragorn, looking briefly at you before staring back at Legolas.

“In Elvish,” Legolas instinctually corrected, not wanting the rest of the fellowship to become involved, “I… took the advice that you had offered me a few nights ago.”

Aragorn raised a brow, casting his mind back and remembering the windy time. They’d been on watch together, and Legolas had approached Aragorn confessing his feelings about you. Wondering how Aragorn had managed to confess to Arwen, and what he should do.

“I presume it didn’t go as well as you thought it would?”

“No, it didn’t,” there was a more melancholy tone to Legolas’s voice, clear even through the beautiful tones of Elvish, “Everything… everything seemed perfect. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been more in love with them.”

Aragorn’s eyes became a bit more sympathetic as he saw the elf almost struggle to finish his sentence, looking slightly lost. “And then what happened?”

“They were looking up at the stars, they looked beautiful. And, we talked about them for a brief while. Then, I called her my love, and they said nothing after that. We sat in silence for the rest of the night.” At that, a more intense sadness formed in Legolas’s eyes, and the two of them briefly looked over at where you were sitting. You had been briefly staring back at them for a second, and the two of you met eyes for a second. He could feel his heart break a bit more, and he turned away, missing the concerned look that crossed Aragorn’s face as he stared at the two of you.

“Well, my friend. I am sorry that this has happened,” there was little comfort that Aragorn could give at the moment. Legolas knew the ranger would be there for him, and he would not appreciate meaningless words of comfort to try and soothe an aching heart. Aragorn paused for a second, before asking, “Do you still care for them?”

Legolas looked up at this, voice raising for a second and then shushing again, “Care for them?” That was when it got quieter, “Of course I do. They are my stars, my forest, my heart. Even if they do not feel the same way.”

“Well then there may still be hope for the two of you, do not give up yet Legolas.”

There was a lull in conversation between the two of them, and comfort for a second before Legolas looked back at the camp. Looked to see you sitting and staring into the floor, Frodo at your side. A now familiar sadness twinged in his heart, before the silence was broken by Sam, “Is anyone available to go get firewood, I want to start cookin’ before it gets too late.”

“I will.”

As soon as Legolas said it, he heard you say it at the same time, and he looked up at you for a second with a smile before reality came down upon him. But before he could apologise, shake his head and retreat back to Strider, Sam clasped his hands together.

“Two is better than one, I suppose.”

Now seeing that neither of you could back out, Legolas sat up, giving a brief look to Aragorn - as though to ask for help. He didn’t want to have to be with you right now, especially after he’d just confessed he still loved you.

“Just be getting firewood, mind,” Gimli called out as the two of you were leaving to head into the forest, and in spite of himself Legolas could feel his ears burn with blush, just like they always did. You would have nudged him at this point, some blush scattering your cheeks, and replying scathingly, but the both of you stayed silent this time.

He filled in the gap for you instead, “Do not worry Gimli, it will just be collecting firewood.”

The phrase came out colder than he intended, and he saw you rush forward into the trees, before stopping and looking around at the floor. Your movements seemed almost erratic at times, and while he stooped to collect firewood he kept his eyes trained on you, still worried. It was ridiculous, he knew. The idea that you would need help from him, or want it.

After only a few minutes, he saw you had much more timber in your arms than usual (normally the two of you would make jokes, and he’d end up collecting the brunt of it) and watched as you straightened up, “I think we have enough - do you want to head back?”

There was a moment of silence, before you began to continue, “Wait, Legolas, I meant to-”

“Yes, I think we have plenty between us,” he cut across quietly. There was no reason for you to apologise to him, or for the two of you to discuss what had happened in the moonlight. He just needed to get back to camp, not have his heart tricked into thinking you might like him again.

But what if you did, what if he had interrupted you. “Wait, I do actually love…” His voice trailed off as he saw you several steps ahead, clearly not listening and desperate to get back to camp. Of course you weren’t speaking to confess, why did he let his heart lead him yet again?

“We’re back, is this enough?” He heard you say to the fellowship, appearing out of the treeline a little behind you silently. Dinner was quiet, and he sat off to the side with Aragorn, neither of them speaking and instead just eating silently. Eventually dinner ended, and like always the matter of who was going to watch was brought up.

Legolas watched as you volunteered, hand going up, then felt as everyone’s gaze turned to him. Watching was another one of those things the two of you would do together, but he couldn’t face being alone with you right now - especially after two failed confessions in three days. As the silence began to grow tense, Aragorn moved slightly to volunteer as well, throwing an almost chiding look at Legolas.

Sleep was difficult for him, but everything was silent and he managed to find himself drifting off, although dreamlessly. When he awoke, it was to something jabbing him in the side. For a second fear raced through him, a sword perhaps? A cunning ambush? But then the thing tapped him again, it was just a stick. And if Legolas knew him, it would be Aragorn. Silently, he moved his hand to be free and listened for the movement of the air.

Then he struck, one hand grabbing the stick and the other straying to his bow - if only to give a brief scare. He looked around at the moonlight before remembering the watch, a slight scowl falling over his face, “I assume I’m taking over the watch?”

His voice was slightly stiff, and he hauled himself out of the bedroll, pulling on his quiver as he did so and readjusting his bow. There was a slight grin on Aragorn’s face as he walked away, one of those knowing ones that he got once in a while. Silently Legolas sat up and walked to face the fire, instinctively walking to be next to you and then swerving and sitting opposite you.

There was silence as he stared at the fire, his heart both wanting to say something to you, but his heart also worrying that it would get hurt again. And both were battling, and neither were winning when you suddenly emitted a small sound.

It was like a choking one, and worry immediately flooded his eyes as he looked up at you. Were you ill, had something happened? But he shouldn’t still be fussing over you… that, wasn’t his job anymore. Not that it ever truly was. Legolas began to look away again, not wanting to torture his heart more.

“I can’t speak Elvish.”

Shock was the first thing that hit him, like a punch in the safe. That and almost absolute confusion. You were an elf, how could you not speak the mother-tongue? But then, along with the shock and confusion, his heart began to sing as well. You may still feel the same way, you just didn’t know what he had said.

Almost timidly, and certainly quietly, he spoke up while daring to glance into your eyes, “So you could not understand me, when I was talking to you in the forest?”

You shook your head, and his heart soared. There was still a chance for him, for the two of you. Then it hurt again as you let out another almost choked sob noise, “I know five words, the most useful one is food.”

So you truly had not understood him when he had been speaking. Relief was now rushing over him, that and love again. Still just as strong and pure, but he wasn’t squashing it down because of your supposed ‘rejection’. Almost subconsciously he stood up and moved over to you. Not quite touching, but close.

“What… what did you call me on that night?”

Your eyes left his, and he almost felt his throat make the same choked noise, “I- I’m not sure how you’d respond to it now.”

“Legolas, the only reason I didn’t react is because I didn’t understand you, I promise. I was just uncertain of what you said, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Your eyes now met again, and he was struck by an urge to hug you. Or, perhaps kiss you. But he wasn’t sure, so instead his hand just reached out and grasped yours. He tried to speak and then gulped nervously, before trying again, “I called you my love.”

He whispered it, and then tried again, “In the forest. Meleth nîn means my love, and I said it because,” at that point his voice, or maybe his nerves, betrayed him, and his voice trailed off. You grasped onto his hands again, to stop them from slipping away.

“As… as in partners?” there was nervousness in your voice, but certainty in his heart. He needed to let you know, and he took a deep breath.

“Yes, meleth nîn, as in… I love you.”

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