#I CAN´T CORRECT IT CRYING
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uh oh i'm getting this feeling that tells me i might not graduate this year and as soon as that's confirmed you have no idea how much i'm going to cry <3
#as if i wasn-t slow enough and procrastinated like my life depended on it... my thesis tutor is an asshole that took a month to read ch 1#to READ IT so who knows when he'll finish the corrections like these will be just the first ones of the first chapter#there's two more chapters left#and my uni requires that i'd be done with fucking everything by OCTOBER 5#that means submitting myt thesis AND defending and god knows how long that takes#like my prof technically just gave me good news but idk about about you guys#but i'm feeling like i might just kms instead <3#i'm staring at the calendar on my phone thinking we're not going to make it chief#oh i'm going to be sick#okay wait wait hold on i'm thinking not everything is lost like so what if i don't graduate this year i can still finish the thesis this ye#and then actually fucking rest and enjoy my life and plan what i'll do next while i wait for the next graduation!#but what about everyone in my life being intense about me graduating already??? well they'll make me cry but what else is new
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squirting for the first time with jjk men?? 😫
❛ SLIPPERY WHEN WET! ❜
sukuna, toji, getō, gojo, namami, choso. jjk men and their reaction to making you squirt for the first time
total wc. 3.6k
warnings. fem!reader, degradation, squirting, overstim, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, p*ssydrunk men, dumbification, pussyspanking, toy usage, edging. MDNI
FUSHIGURO ☆ TOJI
“hm? ain’t no guy ever make ya squirt before?” he grunts. and you’re just absentmindedly being stuffed, both of your wrists gripped back with toji holding onto them, his strokes were mean and demanding. your head continued to thump and bounce against the soft silk pillow that rested underneath your head. all you could make out was a sweet pathetic ‘nuh-uh’ and toji raises his thin eyebrows in amusement. “no baby…? not even once?”
“no- don’t think i can, i tried myself but…”
he snickers. “silly girl. trust me, you can squirt,” you bit your lip, eyes nearly rolling back from his jagged thrusts, its so good you nearly feel drool start to run down the corners of your mouth, how embarrassing it was—yet you remained stupid from his dick, feeling the warmth of your pussy clench tight against him. “want me to test it out?”
“yeah,” you whine, your voice was a mere soft mewl, an almost mumble practically, and toji gifts your ass with a spank, eliciting a moan from your mouth. he grows cocky the minute a huh? leaves his mouth. so you correct yourself with a “y-yes.”
“….‘yeah’ what girl,” he groans, skimming his dark green eyes down to see how your body jerks underneath him. his weight lightly hovers against you, and he’s still got a firm grip with your wrists, having you pitifully tongue-tied. “taught you how to speak to me. so let’s try that again.”
arrogant bastard, what your thoughts originally said—making you purposely repeat yourself, but his cock always always made up for it.
“please,” you choke out, moaning from the way he deepens his thrusts just a tad bit, your mouth starts to water from the way your pussy twitches in content. “make me squirt toji. please. i wanna be messy for you.”
“aw that’s my girl,” he purrs, releasing his grip from your wrists, yet it remains still against your bare back, his thrusts snap against you to where a cute gasp leaves your lips. “but oh, you’ve been messy though, but there’s nothing wrong with that, princess,” he teases, such mockery escaping from his tone. “relax for me, yeah? you’ll feel it when it comes.”
“okay,” you moaned, your left cheek pressed up against the white sheets of the mattress. it was cute, your face being up against the bed as you’re being absolutely stuffed and pounded. you felt yourself tightening from the inside—a coil desperately awaiting to be snapped, a feeling you never knew you could feel, and you probably looked so dumb. “okay okay o-okay.”
you cutely kept sputtering, repeating and bracing yourself. toji brings a rough hand towards the back of your neck as he’s ramming his fat length from behind you, such thrusts has your body spasming and crying out for more, it feels like a orgasm being snatched away from you.
“give it to me, girl.” he grunts, giving your ass another mean spank. the immense build up. your legs judder continuously to where your mind goes blank like an empty canvas, empty..
“a-ah t-toji—!” you squeaked, and he’s so ruthless whenever it came to you, each time you try to sit up to turn around he shoved your head lightly back down, it’s so cute. “fuck, fuck. f-fuck, ‘s about to-” and a gasp interrupts your words the minute you squirt all down his shaft to his base, your sweet juices sheath and sheath all the way down and it’s so warm and hot.
the minute you end up squirting, your legs felt so weak, it just quavered and shook. “oh my g-god,” you sobbed, and he slows his sloppy thrusts against your cunt down—leaning up close to you, direct and personal. “there we go mama, my messy fuckin’ squirter,” he whispers, he’s pressed against your ass and wraps a few fingers around your neck. planting a kiss underneath your chin he murmurs. “you made such a mess. how’s it feel?”
“good. but feels w-wet toji.”
“eheh, well yeah girl, that’s kinda the point.” he snickers, playfully sinking his teeth into your neck, giving it a teasing nibble.
SUKUNA ☆ RYŌMEN
“hm? make you squirt huh? so greedy.. my fingering isn’t enough for you?” sukuna teases and you’re laid flat on your back with your legs lazily lifted up, more like he’s holding them up for you.
you moaned, feeling him slide a single digit in and out. he sneaks a wet kiss against your thigh before leaning in to press his lips against your pussy, tasting how sweet you were. “...kuna ‘m not greedy, just wanna see what it feels like, please..”
“you are greedy,” he grunts, giving your cunt a swift spank to make your legs twitch, “but sure thing.” he mutters, warm minty breath going against your clit. your head goes back and your mouth slightly opens and parts from the way he’s fingering you and eating you out. his lips latch and lock against your folds to make your eyes roll back. he was so filthy with his tongue let alone his fingers.
you sucked your teeth—feeling his two fingers push deep in and out, going past against that spot each time, instead of your eyes rolling you were practically crossed eyed.
“f-fuck, fuck, ‘s good ‘kuna...”
“i know. you keep saying that, dumb girl. quit talkin’ and start squirting.” and you lose count of how many mean slaps he gives your pussy. he’s so mean, yet found every few seconds to praise you and let you know how good you’re doing.
“h-hurry up and make me then.”
“little girl, watch it.” he grunts, gifting you a glare, his eyes pierce against yours before he sits up, spitting right on your pussy with a rough spat, he runs a single middle finger down your slit to snatch the tiny brat left in you. you meet eye contact and your slick was very much glistening his chin, being soaked with your sweetness.
your legs were so close, just the epitome of the word jittery with how it just shook, never once staying still. the stimulation he created with his tongue let alone his fingers, it had your mind boggled. “think ‘m getting close, f-fuck.”
“uh huh. fuckin’ bet you are.” he whistles in response—grabbing ahold of his dick and you let off a cute gasp at the way he swipes his throbbing leaky pre-swollen tip against your wetness. “look at that, princess.
so eager to jus’ swallow me up.” and he slowly makes his way inside your cunt, immediately your walls hug him as a response and you’re just at the very limit. “come on, let go for me. you dont gotta be shy around me, neither does this wet pussy.”
the minute you squirt…it’s embarrassing, sukuna only smacks about five deep thrusts against your cunt and you’re already making a mess all over his base. “s-so good.” you’d cry out, and he’s staring at you.
a grunt departs his lips before he leans in to kiss you, pulling out only to ghost his fingers against your clit.
“you’re such a nasty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, you moan—tasting your own slick that ran down his chin, the sharp edges of his teeth playfully nibbling down on your lip. his body heat against yours made you feel tingly and even more in such heat. “tell me you’re my nasty girl, baby.”
“i-i’m a nasty girl, ‘kuna.” you moaned.
he gives you a dead stare—and you whine once he slips two fingers inside your throbbing pussy.
“i’m your nasty girl, ‘kuna.” you rephrased, and a cocky grin forms on his lips.
“what a good obident girl. think i like you.”
NANAMI ☆ KENTO
“you sure sweetheart?” he asks in a soft mumble, he has a wand in hand. the ringing of the toy rings against your ears as your legs were sprawled apart for him. “you want me to make you…squirt?”
“yes p-please, kento.” you nod, the cuteness bestowed upon your lips was beyond words to describe. the way your lip quivered, it was barely up a few notches yet you throbbed and throbbed. despite it only being a good ten minutes. you’re just a whimpering mess.
eager to touch yourself, you reach down to play with your pussy before he grabs it, kissing the back of your hand.
he chuckles. “oh baby…baby, gotta keep those hands to yourself if you want me to make you messy. okay? no touching.”
“s-sorry kento.”
“aw, don’t be sorry. squirt, princess.” he teases, a hum underneath his tone he was so gentle with you, with his touch yet your legs felt like they were pretty much about to give out.
the stimulation made your teeth nearly chatter, toes clench and your back nearly arching. he finds you to be so pretty like this. flat on your chest, drool running down your mouth against the pillow with your mind empty.
you hold in a moan, teeth lightly piercing down on your lip to help silence yourself from the immense pleasure, the overstim from just releasing had your chin just hovering over your arm.
“o-one more level kento.”
“more? it’s gonna be on four, dunno if my cute whiney princess can handle that.”
“p-please, need it. i wanna-”
you moan at the swift sound of nanami swiping a thumb across the vibrating toy feeling the impulses throb against your sweet cunt, indeed it now being a level higher from three and it’s so good you can just taste the urge to let yourself go.
the sudden feeling of his sneaking fingers to brush and slither against your puffy folds was just enough to send you to burst—your mouth slightly went agape, and you’re just stupid. “n-nanami.”
“so dumbstruck you said nanami instead of kento, such a sweet thing,” and you end up squirting the minute he rubs the toy in a circular motion—maneuvering it against you along with fingers to ghost and run alongside your achy pussy. “easy, ‘s okay. lie down on your chest. jus’ let go for me baby, yeah.”
“such a gorgeous girl,” he whispers in awe, leaning down to kiss your clit which turns to countless smooches, mwah after mwah and your legs were practically mush by now. “let me clean you all up with my tongue, ‘m your husband, least i could do. so relax for me, my love.”
SUGURU ☆ GETO
“oh? i’ve made you squirt before, no?” he cackles, leaning back against the headrest of the couch.
“no,” you whined, still getting over your post-orgasm, his cock stood firm inside of you, such inches of his kept you warm with your hands pressed against his chest. geto stares at you with intrigued darkened eyes. having you sat on his lap, legs still barely recovered a few minutes ago. “don’t think you ever did...”
geto grips your waist, sliding a tongue across his lips before muttering in a sly coy tone. “mhm hmm,” and he’s so sassy, even having the audacity to roll his eyes at you. black specks of hair trickle down and paint the lower half of his body. geto’s happy trail was always appetizing to look at.
“this your little way of asking me to make you soak yourself on me, angel? how cute.” he grins.
“…sugu—” and you gasp at the way he grunts the minute the pads of his thumbs lightly press and pierce into your skin. he starts making you bounce against him and your mouth opens, such lewd whines exit your lips before you throw your arms around his neck.
“wanna squirt, do it yourself. fuck me baby. show me how bad you want it,” and he groans how he’s so stuffed. so full of cum still, hefty base pounding and thwacking back against your pussy. “you’re a big girl. do it y-yourself, mhm…shit.”
he was so teasingly sly, making you rut yourself against him, in the end you always had to do pretty much everything yourself whenever it came to geto.
“…okay,” you choked out, and he playfully leans back — tiny beads of sweat running down the side of his forehead as well as the very middle part of his chiseled v-line.”
it felt so good, you’re dumbly grating your teeth together, still so sensitive, the only cacophony that left your lips was cute whimpers of, “s-sugu,” “…want you s’bad,” and even, “you’re so mean.”
he chuckles at how dumb you grew out to be simply from being stuffed full of thick inches of his dick. “gotta be mean to deal with a pussy this wet.”
his girth had you running for your money, toes clinching as you started to rollick and jerk your hips against him, reaching a hand down to play with yourself before you whine. “f-feel it, suguru.”
“yeah? what are you waitin’ for then?” he purrs.
he chuckled at the sudden moments where you’d grow quiet — he knows how good he’s getting underneath your skin with his vexatious teasing.
his cock expanded in and out the more you moved your hips against him, your soft breaths getting caught in your throat before it comes, you squirt at the same time geto came and he’s caught off guard by the sticky messy feeling, he’s the one who slips off a whine. “s-shit..”
it came out a lot…
let alone with him soaking your cunt full of his own, you really felt stuffed and full to the very depths of it, it felt like a sharp coil within you snapped. geto starts panting, and he takes a moment to blink before grunting, staring away with a flustered face. “don’t look at me. finish fucking me, hmph.”
SATORU ☆ GOJO
“pretty please, ‘toru,” you’d whine out, and he was just straight up cocky and mean, teasing you with having you on all fours, impatient and desperately desperate. “i wanna…wanna squirt.”
“i know you do,” he laughs, playfulness ran all over his tone before he gives your ass a squeeze. that earned a needy moan out of you and you but down on your lip while staring at the fat sheets of the mattress underneath you. “are you asking me to make you squirt or are ya tellin’ me, pretty girl?”
he was so infuriating. even while being plugged in with so much of his thick inches, even just barely with the way he kept swiping his fat tip against your slit, awaiting you.
“….‘m asking, s-satoru.”
he whirrs a playful tone before flipping you over on your back to face him, and then he smiles. “okay. if that’s what you want,” and his voice was so low—a tad bit raspy with pompous smugness all over his sentences. “since i know how impatient ‘n horny you are all the damn time, i’ll make ya squirt in about one minute.”
a minute?
was that even possible—you always heard about how it would take at least longer than that but then you remembered who you were dealing with. gojo satoru and his long pretty fingers that never failed to stretch your pussy out. he was forever proud of that fact, he’d make you soaking wet from not only his dick, his mouth, but especially his fingers.
“it’s gonna get messy, ‘m warning you,” he teases, pulling you up a bit to place a towel down underneath your back. he leans in to pepper kisses underneath your chin before seconds later, he moves his length aside with a grip — before slowly stuffing a single long finger inside, which after a few milliseconds, turns into another. “now, i’m gonna need you to be a good wet girl and jus’ relax for me.”
his words were soothing. you could hardly comprehend anything so his sentences went straight towards your clit, throbbing and throbbing you wanted more. he finds it cute how you grip onto his wrist, babbling about how you don’t want him to stop. “o-okay, satoru. okay.”
you shudder at the feeling of him grazing a thumb down your slit and he moves his head down between your legs to blow softly against your pussy and you moan, feeling him create a good amount of pressure to where you bare down against his fingers easily as if it came natural.
“sweet girl,” he groans, giving your pussy a kittenish suck. your eyes went back in pleasure and you whined at the feeling of his two fingers just smacking in and out of you now. the noises, they were so loud you could hardly even believe it was coming out of you. “hear how wet this sloppy pussy is? yeah girl, that’s you.”
his words that went through your ear and out the other and it got you so wet. his degradation had you pulsing, you felt the inside of your tummy tighten, muscles clenching with you lying down on your back, bracing yourself. gojo was patient with you, occasionally bringing soft kisses towards your clit. you whined before he started to grow more feral, sucking and latching his tongue against your folds while still having two fingers stuffed inside your pussy.
your brain doesn’t even process you’re squirting before gojo lets off a, “oopsie,” the minute you squirt out on his fingers, the front tips of his fingers massage and toy and prod against that spot you always grew to know—and you moan at the way he easily stole a orgasm from you like that, within a single span of a minute.
“aw. you look like you just saw your life flash before your eyes, baby,” then he sits up to face you. both arms pressed around you before muttering in a teasing tone, “want a taste? open your mouth.”
and he gives you the most sloppiest kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat before grunting, you moan in his mouth. your legs wrapped around his slim waist before he squeezes a hand down on your pussy only to spank it roughly, breaking away for a bit before whispering, “good girl. now gimme one more. wanna see if i can do it within thirty seconds.”
CHOSO ☆ KAMO
“b-baby…you wanna do that?” choso mumbles, staring in awe as the both of you watched some random eight minute compilation of women squirting. he was staring intently, and then he only grew more flustered at picturing you like that. legs all spread, eyes rolled back and maybe your tongue stupidly lolled out. “um.. squirt?”
“yes…” you nodded, sitting on his lap. he throbbed behind you, still a bit tingly from his recent orgasm of fucking you.
you pressed against his back and his chin cutely rests against your shoulder. choso’s always been a bit inexperienced whenever it came to well, women. he’s had sex sure….but he doesn’t think he’s ever made a girl do this, this thing called squirting. not until you brought it up.
the more he watched it, the more he moaned to himself at imagining you being all messy like that.
“okay baby, i can do it,” he murmurs in a soft voice.
he brings a hand between your legs and pries it open just a bit, “lie back,” he moans, seeing your legs sprawl open slowly for him made him lick his lips, he was so hungry for you. you had the phone in your hand so he could watch, imitate the exact ways to make a woman squirt with ease and it was so cute how attentive he was. “s-stimulate the um…g-spot a little like this,” he mumbles to himself, and you moan once he slowly inserts two slender long fingers inside your pussy, you were so wet he lets off a cute, “o-oh….”
his eyes multitasked, turning its focus towards you and the screen that played the lewd video at the same time. “like that c-choso, please.”
“i’m doing a good job?” he says, and it’s almost into a form of a whine. all because he’s so desperate to hear your praise and approval, he feels his stomach flip in a good way at feeling you nod against his chest, affirming him to not stop. “okay, okay,” he mutters. “add a little um…p-pressure, consistent pressure until you feel a spongey like texture deep towards the clit.”
you moaned, his words matched his fingers, you tried to squeeze your thighs together but remembered you couldn’t because they were open.
your head rested back against his chest and with a right hand squeezing down onto his thigh, you felt your leg start to bounce. “m-more.”
“don’t wanna rush this baby,” he kisses the back of your forehead. a small pout going across your lips before he continues, pausing to hear the voice on the video that’s instructing speak.
he leans against your ear, strands of his hair poking against you before he murmurs. “bare against my fingers princess. squeeze down a little ‘n relax. can you do that?”
you choke out a moan once you obey his words, doing exactly what he says before you feel a sudden rush reaching out, you never felt this feeling before such a high you craved and chased you felt dizzy, a good kind of a dizzy.
“c-choso, ‘s coming, ‘s coming,” you moaned, your legs not able to hold themselves still. he has a perfect bowling ball grip with his fingers, stroking gently against you to where your mouth salivates with your own saliva.
“…fuck,” you sobbed, the warmth of him massaging his long fingers inside of you made you taste every number of tastebuds that resided on your tongue.
the moment you gush out and squirt, coating his fingers clean of your sheeny pretty slick, you flop back against his chest and you can ever hear a tiny gasp leave his lips. “w-wow,” he whispers in shock — with how much you squirted, he was so fascinated, growing more and more curious and it was adorable. “can you…can we do that again? please?”
#★vegasbaby.#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#gojo smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#geto smut#nanami smut#choso smut#gojo x reader#toji x reader#sukuna x reader#choso x reader#nanami x reader#geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#geto suguru smut#female reader#anime smut#anime x reader#tw sex#gojo satoru x reader#toji fushiguro smut#nanami kento smut
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Overtime
Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.
Pairings: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.
Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).
A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.
Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.
You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.
“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”
“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.
“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”
“You’re still doing it.”
Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.
And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.
“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”
Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”
You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”
But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.
Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.
Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.
“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”
“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”
“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”
You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”
“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”
Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.
“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”
This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.
Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”
You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.
“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”
The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.
This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.
You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.
The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.
Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.
“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.
Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.
And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.
It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.
You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.
“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”
In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.
Also not a great sign.
Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”
“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”
“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”
Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.
“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”
“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.
“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.
This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.
You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”
“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”
Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.
“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder
You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.
There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.
“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.
“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”
That at least earns you a hint of a smile.
*
Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.
You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.
You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.
Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.
You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”
Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”
You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.
But you’re also not about to say no, either.
“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”
The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.
“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.
You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”
“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”
“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”
You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.
“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?” he says.
You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”
He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”
“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.
Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”
“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”
He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”
It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”
“We’re going out for dinner.”
*
He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.
“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.
“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.
An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.
“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”
“Please,” he says.
“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”
“Coffee would be great.”
“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”
He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”
“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”
“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”
“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”
“Technically.”
“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”
You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”
“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”
Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.
“Please,” he says.
“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”
You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”
“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.
“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.
“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.
“Liar,” you say promptly.
He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”
“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”
“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.
“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”
“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”
“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”
“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”
“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”
“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”
“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”
“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”
He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”
You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”
That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.
“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”
You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”
Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.
“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.
You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”
“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.
You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
“It’s not a lie—”
He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.
“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”
There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.
“It does.”
There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”
He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”
It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”
He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”
“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”
He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”
You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”
Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”
“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”
Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”
“I think I have that memorized at this point.”
“‘The perfect choice for families.’”
“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”
“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”
“‘You can’t say no to that.’”
You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.
The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.
“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.
His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”
You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.
Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.
Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.
“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.
“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”
Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.
“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later.
“What’s that?”
“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”
You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”
He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”
You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”
“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.
You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”
“What are body shots?”
For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.
He’s teasing you.
“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.
He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”
You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”
He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”
You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.
But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.
“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.
“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”
“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”
He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.
“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says
“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.
“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”
Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.
There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.
“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”
“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”
“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”
“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”
He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”
“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”
“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”
“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”
You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.
“Where are we going?”
“I know a place.”
*
The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.
“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.
Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”
“You do. It’s Mobius.”
“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”
“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”
He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”
You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”
He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”
“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”
Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”
You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.
The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.
“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.
“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”
“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”
“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”
He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.
You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.
“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.
“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”
“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”
“Darling. You have a TemPad.”
“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”
He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”
You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”
“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”
He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”
“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”
He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”
“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”
It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”
He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.
The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.
There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.
You touch his hand. “This way.”
You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.
“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”
He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”
“What is it?”
They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”
The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”
“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”
This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”
You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”
“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”
“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”
“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”
“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”
He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”
You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”
He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”
“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”
Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”
“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”
You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.
You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”
He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.
There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“For what?”
“For showing me that.”
“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”
He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.
For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.
The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.
Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”
There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.
You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.
But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.
*
You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.
But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.
“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.
It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.
Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”
You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”
Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.
“There’s still so much left.”
“There’s still tomorrow.”
You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”
He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”
He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.
You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.
You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”
To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.
You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.
As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.
“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh.
This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.
“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.
“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”
Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.
And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.
“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.
“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.
She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”
With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.
“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.
Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.
Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.
But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.
You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—
“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”
“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”
“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.
His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”
“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”
Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”
You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.
He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.
“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”
“Thanks.”
In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.
You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.
When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.
You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.
You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”
“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”
You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”
“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.
You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”
He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”
You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”
“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”
“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”
“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”
“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.
He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.
Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.
“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.
“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”
He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”
“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.
“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.
“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”
With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.
“Hey!” you shout in protest.
“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.
This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.
Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.
“This is ridiculous,” you say.
“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.
You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.
He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.
“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”
That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.
He grins. “Not a chance.”
You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.
It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.
Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.
“Yield,” he says.
You shake your head. “Never.”
His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”
“No.”
Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.
But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.
“Yield.”
You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”
Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?
“Yield.”
God, he’s so close and you want him so badly.
“No.”
He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.
They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.
“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.
“No,” you say.
He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.
He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.
“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar.
“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.
You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.
“No,” you say.
“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.
His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.
“Cheater,” you say.
“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”
You shiver. “Your prize?”
“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”
“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”
“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.
“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.
“You have not,” you say.
“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”
You nod. “Yes.”
He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.
You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”
You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.
He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.
You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.
His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.
Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.
“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.
“What is it, my love?”
“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”
You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
You believe him.
His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.
“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.
You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.
“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”
You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”
His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.
“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”
For who?”
“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”
“You’re not,” you say.
“Some would disagree.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”
There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.
“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”
“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”
You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”
“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”
A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”
The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”
“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”
“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”
“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.
“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”
That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.
“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”
This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.
“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”
Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.
You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.
“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.
He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.
Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.
You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.
You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.
This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.
Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.
It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.
“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”
“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.
“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.
“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”
His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?
“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”
You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.
You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.
You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.
“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”
“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.
“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”
You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.
“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”
“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.
“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”
You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.
He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”
You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.
“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”
He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.
Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.
He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.
After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.
“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.
“Yes,” you breathe.
He rolls on top of you and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.
He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.
But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.
You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.
He does.
He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.
He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.
He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.
“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”
He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”
His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.
He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.
He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.
You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”
“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”
With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.
He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”
He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.
He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.
You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.
“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.
He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”
You whimper. “Loki—”
“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”
Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.
You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.
As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.
It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.
After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.
You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.
You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.
You don’t know it then, but you’re right.
*
Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.
Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.
“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.
“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.
“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”
Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”
But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.
“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”
You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”
“A confession,” says Mobius.
“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”
Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee.
Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”
“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”
“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”
“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.
Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”
You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.
“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”
Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”
Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”
“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”
Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”
You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”
Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”
“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“What do you mean?”
Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”
Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.
“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”
“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”
“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.
Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”
“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”
Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”
Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”
“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.
“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.
It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.
“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.
“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.
“I know,” he whispers back.
But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.
“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”
Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.
“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.
He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”
Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”
He grins and tugs you through the time door.
-------
But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.
#loki smut#loki x reader#loki x reader smut#loki laufeyson smut#loki x female reader smut#loki x female reader#loki laufeyson#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#tva loki x reader
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Daylight Robbery
Gojo Satoru likes when other men stare at what they can't have...but maybe he's underestimated Nanami Kento.
Warnings: 18+, cucking, I actually like Gojo so please don't misunderstand me 👀
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When a cuckoo visits a nest, he brings a most precious treasure, places it amongst others like it (but not exactly like it), and leaves.
And this is, of course, the most crucial point; for he does leave, and takes nothing with him.
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"Oi! Nanamin. I've got a favour to ask."
Nanami Kento stood, abruptly, looking at his watch and flapping his newspaper shut-- "My, my. Just look at the time."
"Don't be that way-- Nanamin, come back-- it's about my girl."
Nanami stopped, his hand upon the door handle. Gojo's smirk grew fast, grinning wolfishly, a squirm of possessive pleasure unfurling in his belly and his cock.
"Thought that might stop you...yeah, I've seen you looking. Can't have her though, right? My girl."
Of course, he had looked, at first, Nanami thought, his fingers on the handle. He had looked upon you, in all of your finery-- those glittering smiles, the rubies upon your lips, the marble-carved touches, so deliberately and exquisitely formed. Only after your heart and the life of you, had granted you animation, had Nanami then watched, now art in motion, art with a story.
"You can have her. If you want."
Nanami maintained his composure. Barely. He turned to face Gojo, stern and impassive.
"For one night, and one night only."
Ah. I see. You would like that, wouldn't you.
"And I get to watch. What do you say?"
A dozen questions flew through Nanami's mind, and none of them for Gojo. Nanami's cock twitched now, despite himself, calculating on bated breath.
"Sure. I'd like that. Tonight? Tell her to wear something...comfortable."
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You'd only have said yes to Satoru, for the other guy to be him.
As he stepped into Satoru's bedroom, gracing you with a gentle, reassuring smile, you softened, feeling so exposed and foolish in your lingerie. You glanced over at Satoru, barely lit in the dark, fingers on his temples with one pinched between his teeth, the other hand grazing lightly over his already hardening cock.
Nanami stepped over to you, sat on the bed and looking up at him with the tiniest glint of fear. His hand reached out, strong and soft, and cupped your jaw, brushing a thumb over your lips.
"I thought I said something comfortable," he chided without malice. Your lips parted just-so under his thumb, the briefest flick of your eyes towards Satoru, a half-hearted shrug and an awkward smile. Nanami snorted, derisive.
"I understand you," he purred, leaning down to you, both hands cupping your face as he whispered against your ear, "remember...you're in charge, darling, and I am entirely at your disposal."
"Nanami...I-- I don't know...where to start." Kento hummed, nodding, his thumb moving to stroke your cheek. Despite his outward self-control, your face was directly in front of his groin, and you could see a bulge, huge and heavy, under his tan trousers.
"Kento," he insisted, "please. After all...if I treat you as well as you deserve...it's my name you'll be crying out tonight. Not your boyfriend's."
Satoru shuddered in the chair in the corner, smirking, a hushed clink as he undid his belt, reaching down to hook his long, pale, pink-tipped cock free of its restraints. His hand reached down to cup his balls, rolling and fondling them in his palm, until beads of pre-cum began to dribble onto the neat white hair leading down his belly.
"F-Fiancé," you corrected, captivated as Kento's arms moved to bracket you, nosing at your neck, the shell of your ear, hips nudging you up the bed until you settled, feather-light, on sinking pillows. Kento huffed lightly.
"Yes. My apologies. Your fiancé." You were splayed beneath him, helpless as a kitten. Satoru was tall, and big, but...nothing like this bronze Adonis above you. Broad and mountainous, Kento's shoulders rolled, his breathing getting heavier, whiskey-brown eyes drunk on you. It was just he and you in the room, you were sure. And you felt so...safe.
"Well, then," Kento hummed, one hand reaching under your back to unclasp your bra, deft and dexterous, "I'm going to treat you like it's your very first time. Please, tell me if you want me to stop."
"Don't." You urged, swallowing a sigh of relief as your corseting bra unclasped, "Don't stop," and Kento's eyes smiled at you.
"Is that better?" He whispered, kissing your forehead with such tenderness, you could have wept. Kento felt the way you pressed up against him, thrilled, roiling with such righteous rage at your misuse.
If Satoru had not been so captivated by the way Kento trembled with restraint above you, at the way your nipples pebbled as your bra was pulled softly from your body, he would have felt the fine thread of uncertainty that ran through him, as Kento treated you like spun sugar.
Used to dulling himself, Satoru gripped his cock, sighing and cursing as he stroked himself slowly, reaching to the table beside him to grab a bottle of lube, pumping it over his twitching cockhead.
Hearing the little wet sucks of Satoru's hand, masturbating himself with practiced strokes, your head tipped to watch him, teeth gritted and hungry as he watched you graze your hands over Kento's thick, corded biceps.
"Get on with it, Nanami," Satoru sniped, "or do you not know what you're doing with a girl like her? Scared I've ruined her for you?"
You blushed, moving an arm up to cover your face, as Satoru teased you both. Kento shushed you, removing your arm, pressing a kiss to your inner wrist before plaiting his fingers with yours, calm, confident and ungoadable.
"She's a rare gem, it's true," Kento answered, more to you than to Satoru, "and certainly not one that could be ruined by something so...insignificant." You felt a hot appreciative surge in your belly, so overwhelmed by the want in Kento's eyes, by his advocacy of you. His thumb was brushing over your lip again, eyes flicking between your mouth, and looking deeply into the heart of you.
"I'd kiss you," Kento whispered, "but only if you wanted me t--"
All at once, you grabbed Kento by the tie, pressing your lips to his, your first drink after a month of summer, tangling your fingers into his blond hair. Kento grunted against your mouth, pressing his body down onto yours, letting you lead the kiss, but guiding you into unexplored waters. You waded through them, calm, exotic and unfamiliar.
Kento kissed you with all the warmth and precision he had promised. Each time you tried to push the kiss further, he held you warmly back, controlling your desperate haste for your own sake. He pulled away from your mouth, a fine string of spit connecting you, and you seared at his refusal to use you, your breasts untouched, pussy untouched, so virtuous. Kento's mouth sucked at your neck, leaving his mark, subtle and inconspicuous, as he spoke to you.
"Would you like to undress me?" He offered, your hand still clutching his tie. You felt like you'd been given a gift to unwrap.
"Yes," you pleaded, body thrumming with the need for his skin on yours, "god yes, I--I'd love it. I love--...yes. Please."
"Good girl."
Kento continued to lap at your skin, his hands now ghosting over your hips, the soft plush of your belly, the dimpling in your thighs. Your hands shook, never thinking for a second that you could be edged by something as simple as removing Kento's tie, unbuttoning his shirt; simplicity made erotic. By the time you had pushed his shirt off his shoulders, caught on his brown leather harness, your irritatingly stringy underwear felt tight, wet and clingy with your own arousal.
"How wet are you, baby? D'you think he can fuck you as well as me, hmm?" You jumped at Satoru's voice from the corner. Hesitating to answer, unsure if Satoru would like what he heard, you chose silence, whimpering softly as Kento's tongue moved over your breasts, achingly close to your sensitive peaks. Satoru's breathing came ragged, watching another man devour you, just so he could wrench you away after...his hand gripped the base of his cock, twitching and wet, gasping with the effort to not spend himself all over his belly.
Your fingertips ghosted over Kento's harness, thoughtful. Just as Kento was about to graze his lips over your plump nipple, he stopped.
"You like it? My harness?" He chuckled, his hand rising to brush over yours, still fingering the brown leather. You bit your lip, nodding. Kento understood fully; in moments, he had stripped his shirt, replacing the harness only. You almost melted at the sight of him above you, buckling the harness over the front of his pecs, his own nipples being grazed by the tight leather press.
Kento watched you shudder, taking your hand, stroking it over the leather, down his belly towards his belt, feeling the veins of his V-line tracking down to his cock. Your mouth watered, and Kento shivered as your fingers tickled just beneath his belt.
Not breaking eye contact, Kento lowered his mouth back to your breasts, resuming as he pulled your nipple into his mouth, moaning around you at the sweet yielding softness. His tongue traced you so gently-- too gently, for the relief you needed.
"Harder-- please, Ken..." Kento acquiesced, ever your servant, as he drew your nipple deeply, the pleasure tangy and sharp as your nipple grazed the roof of his mouth, his thick fingers kneading and rolling your other breast. Your hips bucked up against nothing, and you whimpered in despair, no longer used to such ceaselessly tender foreplay. Your hands tangled in his hair, trying to push his head down your body, and Kento mumbled, voice husky and rumbling against your spit-wet nipple.
"Where do you want my mouth?" Before you could answer, Satoru interrupted, his voice low and feverish, working at his balls again with one lube-wet hand, flicking at his own nipples beneath his white undershirt.
"Eat her out, Nanamin. I want to see how fast you can make her cum...or, if you even can." Kento smiled at you again, soft, not rising to the taunts, casting an embargo on the forced air of toxic masculine competition.
"Let me know...if it's too much," Kento offered, his mouth kissing down your belly. As he reached your underwear, all silky straps and ties, Kento paused, tongue grazing just above them.
"Do you like these?" He asked, sincere. You bit your lip, mortified at having been read like a book.
"No," you whispered into the back of your hand, too quiet for Satoru to hear, "not really."
Kento hummed. His strong hands gripped your underwear, snapping one side at a time. Satoru groaned at Kento's fractured restraint, his thighs and back prickling with the edge of his orgasm; "Oh fuck, baby...you see how bad he wants you? Shit. Gonna look so beautiful with his cock inside you...get on with it, Nanamin."
Kento knelt above you, removing the scrap of your underwear, tossing it aside to his shirt. He looked down at you in reverence, his fingertips grazing past the puffy lips of your pussy, to dip his fingers into your wetness, lubricating himself with you. As Kento brought two fingers back up to gently pinch your clit, rolling it between them, he sighed, whispering again at your mewls and cries.
"Beautiful...gorgeous. You take as long as you need."
Kento undid his belt, chest straining against his harness, abs and pecs twitching as he fingered you with devastating expertise. He had imagined you like this so many times, mathematic in his fantasies, calculating how he would orchestrate your divine undoing. His free hand undid his belt, lowering himself to his belly as he rucked off his trousers, boxers and socks, his desperately aching cock now sandwiched between his abs and the bedsheets.
When Kento removed his fingers from your clit, you shot up on your elbows to look down at him with a cry of remand. Your breath caught at Kento gazing at your slick on his fingers, dipping them into his mouth, long pink tongue licking them clean and shivering at your taste.
Satoru's head pressed back against the chair, arching into his hand with a breathless laugh; "Doesn't she taste good, Nanamin? Don't worry...I'll finish her off, if you can't get her there." Satoru didn't know how much longer he could keep going, his cockhead a deep, angry pink, balls tight and full from almost spilling into his hand so many times, determined to outlast Kento. The thrill of the chase consumed him in holy fire.
Kento's eyes twinkled at you, unflappable, chuckling at how you bit your lip down at him, embarrassed by him tasting you with such enthusiasm. He chuckled as you covered your eyes again, nuzzling your inner thigh as you giggled, sharing a moment of companionable silliness. Kento broke it swiftly, dragging you out of your wall-breaking moment, by nuzzling his nose between your folds, and you gasped, moaning, high and long.
Kento had built you up with such precision, that by the time the tip of his tongue slid between your folds, flicking from side to side to part them and lay claim to your neglected bud, you came with a jolted cry, one hand clutching the pillow behind your head, the other entwined in his hair, pressing his face down into your bucking sex.
"--oh fuck-- shit, baby, are you serious? For Nanamin, huh? Fff--fuck-- so fucking beautiful." Satoru was shaking now, competitive bile rising in his throat, sorely tempted to throw Kento off of you, jealously coveting you in a way he hadn't earlier.
Satoru yanked his balls away from the base of his cock with a stilted growl, gripping himself, staving his orgasm away. He wouldn't waste a single drop of his seed until he could throw Kento out, and show you how a real man could fuck you. Kento knew the rules; he could not stay after to watch, and he could not spend his seed inside you. That privilege was Satoru's alone. Satoru ripped his blindfold off with a hiss, tossing it aside, staring into you and Kento and seeing you both in his own unique completion.
Kento wrapped his forearms around you, looped over the top of your thighs, licking you softly down from one orgasm, nuzzling you until you trembled, before lapping you back into his lips, and beginning to build you again, delicate, piece by piece.
"Kentooo-ooooo...aaahhhhh--put your--put your tongue in me-- please please pleas--"
Satoru almost ejaculated untouched, hearing you beg and twist under Kento's hungry tongue. He could see Kento's euphoria from your taste and twitches beneath his tongue. He could see the way Kento subtly fucked himself against the sheets, denying himself, and looking so cool about it, but still undeniably just a man.
"Shit-- baby-- see the way Nanamin's fucking our bed, huh?...fuck, why wouldn't he-- taste so fucking good, should we even let him fuck you, hmm?"
As lights and stars fell in your vision, rutting your clit against Kento's nose, his tongue licking as deeply as he could penetrate inside your cunt, you wondered faintly, that Kento was not fucking you, but making love to you instead. You felt wholly possessed, worshipped.
With Kento at your altar, you revelled, divine and cumming over, and over, and over, lost in some blissful fever-dream. Time lost meaning as he made you fluid beneath him.
Satoru moved to stand, and, still with his face between your legs, guiding you down from another orgasm, Kento raised one impeding just-a-moment finger to Satoru. Satoru's breaths were ragged, and he released his grip on the arm of the chair, moaning weak little moans as his aching cock sat, sore and in desperate need of something softer than his own hand.
Kento kissed his way back up to your mouth, face cupped, swiping the tears from your lashes with his thumbs.
"What do you think?" He whispered, teeth nipping at your tilted throat as you panted and shivered beneath his touch, "Can I give you what you want, goddess?" You nodded, short and incoordinate, and Kento could have burst with covetous pride to feel you hook your legs up and around his back, urging him, inviting him in.
Kento growled, feeling his leaking tip ghost the puffy tight wetness of your entrance. His breath caught in his chest, pins and needles all over his hips and cock as he bit back his orgasm, his brain fighting him with the image of you with his seed dripping all over your folds.
"Like it's your first time," Kento repeated, dipping his thumb over your tongue, groaning in approval as you sucked it, doe-eyed and supple and desperate to taste him, "I'll be gentle...I promise." You shivered, born anew as he began to press his cockhead inside you, both of you balanced on a knife's edge.
Satoru could have wept; your insistence on Kento taking you in missionary, of all positions, shielded you from his view, Kento's cock about to penetrate you behind the plush of your thighs.
"Stop," Satoru ordered, voice rasping, dry, clipped, "I'm here to watch, and you're here to do as you're fucking told, Nanami."
Nanami caught how your face twisted in frustration, anger at having been interrupted. He rose one hand to plait with yours again, licking your jaw as he stroked his cockhead between your folds, teasing your clit, shivering as he slyly encouraged you to give him a pussyjob. You mewled, feeling a hot dribble of pre-cum over your clit, dripping down towards your entrance.
"I only follow one person's orders here, Gojo," Kento rumbled, pressing his slit over your hard little bud, wiggling them together with a hiss so your most sensitive spots slipped together as puzzle pieces for a moment. You felt yourself, shaking like a leaf, feeling such copious amounts of Kento's arousal seep out around the seal his slit had made over your bud. You felt dizzy, clutching Kento's beautiful, clenching arms.
The centre of your world focused so entirely on Kento, you had placed yourself into the palm of his hand, aching for him to control you in a way that was so thoroughly in defence of you.
"Besides," Kento said, pressing his cock deeper now, husky as he felt your tight, gummy walls suck him in, "you should watch her face instead of her pussy...it's the best part."
Satoru whimpered, moaning as he fucked up into his own fist, lube splattered onto his groin, white hair wet with fluids; all for the look on your face as Kento bottomed out, thick and long and filling you with his oozing perfection. Your jaw fell slack, eyes dewy as you drank in Kento's muscular form, still bound by his brown harness. You sobbed with relief at the blissful stretch of his cock within you.
"So good...not too big for you, sweetheart? So brave...move yourself around my cock when you're ready."
You gripped Kento close, your arm round his chest and gripping his harness from the back, face buried into his chest. Your sob of relief at having been filled, threatened to grow into full tears at the exquisite beauty of being possessed with no selfishness. Kento felt you, one enormous hand tangled in the back of your head, the other leaning above you, intertwined with your free hand.
Kento was stock still, mumbling into your hair, kissing your ear, as you rolled your hips upwards, sweeping your slick pussy up and down his length, fucking him as he caged you in. Kento cursed, sweating and groaning, the leather of his harness creaking as his chest strained against it. His brow furrowed, and he cupped your hip in one hand, guiding you to keep sliding your pussy around his throbbing cock, rutting deeply down into you to meet your thrusts.
Hearing your gorgeous little mewls at Kento's blunt cockhead kissing your cervix was Satoru's last straw. His hand stuttered around his cock as he threw his head back, his orgasm hurtling over him with force.
"--agghh shit-- no more, I can't-- fuck you Nanami, you piece of--piece of shit--" Satoru's seed spattered over his belly, dripping down his hand, cock and balls as he groaned, interrupted by breathless, fractured gasps. He watched Kento's hips pick up pace, and watched as you pressed your forehead to his, all honey-rich and sweat as you panted into each other.
Kento couldn't have cared less about Satoru's jealous spitting, for he was wholly possessed by a primal urge to take you, and make you his. He kissed into your belly with his cock, gasping, feeling your walls clench around him, milking so much pre-cum from him that he shook, hot and thirsty, grunting against your clamouring lips.
Kento locked your ankles behind the small of his back, tipping your hips back into a press, pushing you past your pussy's limit to take any more of him. He rutted into you hard, barely pulling back, bullying your spongy walls with savage attentions, fully feral.
"--come on, girl--such a good girl, gonna--ahhh fuck gonna--hold--hold onto me--"
Taking full advantage of Satoru's dopey post-orgasm laxness, Kento pushed himself past the point of no return, loving you greedily and with no intention to share. Kento felt his balls tighten up, his seed loaded and ready to spill.
Satoru realised a moment too late; "--Nanami--pull out--don't you fucking dare--"
Kento came with a bark, feeling his cum start to pulse into you in long, thick spurts. Satoru darted forwards, still messy with his own cum, still half-dazed. Kento slung out an arm, his fingers fixing round Satoru's throat as he grunted, deep husky moans as he continued to spurt inside you, Kento's face the picture of serenity and rage.
Fingers gripped tight around Satoru who stood, teeth bared and considering murder, Kento came down from his high, panting, still rutting lazily into you. You lay, euphoric and full of thick cum, so sticky that it coated your inner walls, clinging to your slick pussy, barely leaking out as Kento pulled out.
"Sorry," Kento huffed, voice uncharacteristically light, "not sure...what came over me. You know what it's like, Gojo."
Kento released Satoru, reaching down to swipe your hair from your eyes, his own amber and affectionate; "Want me to run you a bath?"
You laughed softly, trying to cover your blushes. Satoru gripped Kento by the shoulder, throwing him back. Kento stepped smoothly into it, still looking longingly into you like Satoru was less than the most fleeting of irritations.
"Shut the fuck up, Nanami. Get out."
Satoru climbed over you, pressing you back onto the bed. Feeling his once familiar, adored body and kisses felt so curiously alien. As if you had been overwritten by something so much...more.
Satoru mumbled sweet nothings into your throat, restraining and possessive, as he lined his cock up with your entrance. A core instinctive knowing took control, and you closed your legs with an odd finality.
As Kento did up his last button, you looked to him as his eyes caught yours, fire burning within. He stepped away with a gracious nod, and with the click of the door, your stomach fell.
For Kento had left something behind, blooming within you, and took a part of you with him, pocketing something which you would surely be obliged to follow.
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It took Satoru many years to accept his own mistake. He did not accept it, when you told him you were leaving him. He did not accept it, when Nanami opened his doors to you and your suitcases, in the wee small hours of the night. He did not accept it as he watched you bloom, belly round and full with Nanami's growing seed, Nanami's hand overlaying yours, holding you and your baby. He did not accept it as he saw something between you and Nanami, that he had never felt between himself and you.
His mistake, was that Nanami Kento would not partake in cuckolding.
For Nanami Kento was not a cuckoo at all, but a thief, of the highest calibre.
#jjk#cw cucking#tw cucking#gojou satoru x reader#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami#jjk nanami#kento nanami x you#nanami fluff#nanami kento#nanami kento smut#kento nanami x y/n#gojo satoru#gojo smut#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#satoru gojo#satoru#Gojo X reader x Nanami#satoru x reader#jujutsu satoru#gojo saturo#jjk satoru#satoru smut#pseudowho
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You know what would be funny?
If the downfall of the GIW and other anti-Ecto acts and organizations? Came about because of some long dead scholars pathological need to Be Right.
How? Would this work, you may ask? Oh, easily!
WIKIPEDIA.
Somebody is WRONG about FACTS. And that can not stand! You see, they were told... well, more OVERHEARD then anything else (during their annual and ongoing debate about EVERYTHING) from that...? Techmus? Fellow? Whomever he was.
They HEARD, there has been a MARVELOUS advancement in the realm of the Living! A collective knowledge repository! Imagine the possibilities! They must see it at ONCE!
So they harrass Danny about it. Obviously.
He finally caves. And, to prevent them going Wrath Of The Old Academic or something, shows them JUST technical papers sites and Wikipedia etc. That should fix things, right? They should be HAPPY, now, RIGHT?
WRONG.
These so called "Facts" are INCORRECT! I was THERE! We did not do THAT! Slander! Outrage! I shall BURN THEIR HOUSE DOW-!
Ooooookay, hold up! OR? We could EDIT the page? See that button? Push that.
They blink. Push up their spectacles. Squint at the screens more closely. Ah. So there IS! Their mistake! How silly, quite embarrassing. Now then... *furiously begins typing*
And? You obviously can just? Make random edits. Even if you seem to be correct. ESPECIALLY with out any sources. And no one will accept "I was There" as a source. We are discussing Pompeii. And a spcertain historically significant volcanic incident. NO YOU WERE NOT.
Yet? No matter HOW had the moderators try? They for some reason can not BLOCK this deluge of edits. It's unending. And not even a united front. As they edit each other's edits.
AND on top of THAT? Random papers are showing up in official journals. Ones that were NOT put there by the journal's staff. About alchemy or frogs or rebuttals to people no one has even HEARD off.
Obviously, it's? Kind of a Big Thing in the scientific and academic community. Everyone is talking about it and confused. Every Hero with a scientific job. Oracle, with her job at a LIBRARY. Anyone connected to them they ask to look into this. It keeps spreading.
Especially when the hackers FAIL to stop it.
Imagine Danny's horror. Just... IMAGINE it. He goes to bed. The old fogies content to quietly argue and merrily type away, certain he's distracted them. Harmless he thinks. Contained, he believes.
They blow up the internet. Bring the JUSTICE LEAGUE to his city.
He has to explain himself to BATMAN.
He's gonna cry. Stop laughing Tucker, this is absolutely a threat. He is GOING to cry on you. (T^T )
@ailithnight @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @nerdpoe
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“So, let me get this straight,” he says, rubbing his temples, “You set fire to your tent while trying to make what?”
Heat rises to your face as you avoid meeting his eyes. You fidget with your fingers, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of your superior. Your breathing is so loud and ragged in the silence of his tent, and you try to steady yourself before speaking.
You murmur an inaudible answer while shifting your weight from foot to foot.
“Louder, soldier,” he commands, “and look at me when I address you.”
You take a deep breath and hold it in. You lift your head and meet his eyes. His balaclava is crooked and messy as if he put it on in a hurry when the entire camp went into chaos. You can see a few stray hairs poking out from underneath it. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is hoarse; the poor guy has had enough.
“Popcorn, sir.” You whisper and instinctively kick a rock on the ground, wishing it was you.
“Popcorn.” He repeats, amazed.
You nod and divert your gaze to your left, where his bed is. You blush and immediately swing your head in the other direction.
“What were you thinking?” He asks, leaning on his field desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“I guess I, um, I guess I was hungry, sir.” You stammer. You shift your weight to the balls of your feet, then place them back on the ground.
“You guess you were hungry?” He asks dumbfounded, “And you decided that popcorn was the right snacking choice?”
You shrug, and he shakes his head.
“Tell me, soldier,” he says, “do you know what popcorn does?”
“What does it do?” You ask naively.
“Come on, work with me,” he says, gesticulating with his hands, “it’s a compound word; corn that...”
“… pops?”
“Repeatedly”, he nods, “and do you know what repeated ‘pops’ might be interpreted with? In a field exercise? With a bunch of soldiers on high alert?”
“Gunshots?”
“Repeated gunshots,” he corrects you.
You shut your eyes and hunch over. “I’m really sorry, sir,” you finally mutter, “it was an accident.”
“Oh!” He exclaims and throws his hands up, “Thank you for clearing that out, soldier; see, I was worried you were intentionally committing arson!”
“No, sir, I promise you that wasn’t my intention,” you cry, “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upsetting me is not the problem here, Y/N, and if you can’t see that, we have a bigger issue to deal with.”
You furrow your eyebrows and look at him, confused. He takes a while to assess your expression and widens his eyes, ready to lecture you for good now.
“You could have gotten hurt, you idiot!” He shouts, hitting his palm with the outer edge of his hand. “You could have burned yourself, or someone could have shot straight in your direction with all these...” he gestures with his hands, imitating fireworks, “...pops that you were making!”
You raise your eyebrows as you connect the dots. “You’re right, sir,” you nod, “I will try to be wiser and not make any stupid mistakes in the future.”
“Mistakes happen daily, and you are wise, soldier.” He reassures you, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be on my team.” He walks behind his desk to sit on the folding chair. “It’s your inability to assess the danger that scares me.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says gently, “and I worry that there might not always be someone there to help you.”
“I can assure you that the team is always-”
“I know the team is great and always has your back, but I mean me; I won’t always be there to save you from harm,” he says and shoos you away. “You’re dismissed,” he orders, and starts filling paperwork.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” You ask.
He shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead. “I just extinguished one hell of a fire,” he replies. “Unless what I just experienced was a scene from a movie, I highly doubt I’d be able to sleep in peace.”
“I’m really sorry.” You apologise, and he waves his hand again for you to leave.
“Soldier?” He asks, and you turn to look at him one last time.
“I hope you didn’t bring any movies to accompany you with that popcorn.” He states in a stern voice.
You vigorously shake your head. “No, sir,” you reply, “no movies, just popcorn.”
He lets out a relieved exhale. “Just remember; next time you get hungry, it’s better to stick to the rations.”
You shrug and look at the ground. “I’ve run out of my allocated rations, sir.”
He lets out another exhale, this time deeper, and tilts his head to the side.
“Is that the reason you decided to cook for yourself?” He asks, “Because you ate all your meals?”
You slowly nod. His eyes have softened, and he looks more compassionate than before. Almost forgiving; human.
He opens the drawer of his field desk and grabs an energy bar and a pack of dried figs. He pushes them towards you.
“Please, come see me next time,” he advises you. “I much rather wake up to you asking for food than to a blitzkrieg of kernels popping.”
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost cod#cod ghost#ghost cod mwii#ghost cod mw2#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic#cod fanfic#cod mw2
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baby wearing
spencer reid x fem!reader, fluff
w/c: 465
welcome to the spencer reid dilf agenda: blurb edition. re: spencer reid. baby wearing. that is all.
You felt his presence over your shoulder as he watched you maneuver the baby on the bed. Her eyes were closing as Spencer reached over and cupped her head with his hand, causing her to watch him with wonder while drifting off into a, hopefully, deep slumber.
The newborn was resting on your bed as you pulled the silky fabric that would secure her to you off of the comforter. You knew that your window of opportunity was closing quickly and soon enough she’d start crying. Spencer had told you that, by being held, she’d learn a sense of security, comfort, nurturing, and warmth.
At two weeks old, she spent more time being held than anything else, so you hoped she felt like the most secure, comforted, nurtured, and warm baby in the world.
“Can I try it?” Spencer asked, eyeing the cloth that you were holding as your daughter squawked impatiently, needing to be held again.
You halted your movements, turning your head to look at him curiously. “You want to babywear her?”
He nodded enthusiastically, hazel eyes flickering between you and the baby. “She seems to like it,” he observed.
She couldn’t talk, but being cocooned in a sling with her mom always seemed to calm her down when she was fussy. You assumed that Spencer was correct, your baby enjoyed being close to people.
The two of you were trying to get as much bonding time in between Spencer and the baby as possible before he had to go back to work, skin-to-skin, bottle feeding. You were willing to try anything, but you didn’t want to force it on him. So, if he wanted to babywear her, then you’d show him how to do it.
He was wearing a T-shirt, which was probably for the best. You didn’t know how she’d react to buttons or zippers, but you kept an eye on her while handing Spencer the wad of fabric. Without missing a beat, he started wrapping the cloth around himself, “Am I doing this right?”
Nodding, you helped Spencer wrap the silky fabric around his torso and shoulders. Luckily, he’s watched you do it enough times in the past two weeks that he had a pretty good idea about where to tie and where to tuck. “Now, she just needs to rest on your chest, and you can pull the fabric over.” You helped guide his hands until you were sure she was secure.
Watching him, you smiled softly as he shushed the newborn when she stirred while being moved.
“What are you thinking?” He asked, gently rubbing the baby’s back through the cloth. She had likely already fallen asleep, keeping warm and remaining comforted by her father.
Your grin remained pasted on your face, “It’s a good look on you.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#written by margot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid x fem!reader#x reader#spencer reid dilf agenda
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i dare you, ryomen sukuna
you want to break up with your boyfriend, ryomen sukuna, so he dares you to say that to his face
nswf! sukuna x reader, slut, whore mentioned, chocked, over-stimulated reader
You nervously leaned against the pantry table in your kitchen. One of your hands rested on your other hand which was curled over your stomach— you bit your nails. Your eyes focused on the flat object on the table in front of you. Many times you put your hand up to take the object but your intention was stopped a second later— you continued like that for a while until you finally decided to make up your mind. With a slight tremor, your finger presses something, producing a ringing sound.
sukuna :
yes, babydoll?
You were silent for a moment when you heard the deep voice of your lover, Ryomen Sukuna. Your guts suddenly shrink and your body fills with adrenaline. You bit your bottom lip and remained silent for a moment. Your head was spinning at what you had been thinking about the last few weeks. You no longer want to be in this toxic relationship. You were tired of fighting with Sukuna, spending your tears crying over him. You're tired of his big ego and his attitude. You're tired of your lover. So you sighed and made up your mind again.
you :
let's break up
Silence for a moment from across there. Your chest was pounding as you waited for a response from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. You only heard Sukuna's heavy breathing before a mocking chuckle was heard. He's always like that, always never taking you seriously. He always chuckles, laughs mockingly and looks at you as if you are the stupidest and funniest person in the world.
sukuna :
say that to my face y/n, I fucking dare you
you :
I'm done with you, I want to break up
"Are you sure?"
You quickly raised your head when you heard Sukuna's voice only to find him standing not far across from you with a cell phone in his left hand pressed to his ear and in the other hand you could see several paper bags with well-known brands. He put his cell phone in the pocket of the trousers he was wearing and stepped closer. You pulled your lips straight as you lowered your phone and placed it on the pantry table. Sukuna was standing across from you— your bodies were blocked by a fairly large pantry table.
As usual, his pink hair was neatly styled, showing off his forehead. Tattoos adorn his handsome face which now looks expressionless. You corrected your posture and stood up straight. Your head is straight ahead looking at your lover confidently— at least try to look confident so that your lover knows that you mean it. But Sukuna can see you like an open book. He can read all your movements as if he had been studying you for decades.
“You know there's no breaking up in this relationship, y/n,” he said.
You rolled your eyes. “I can't deal with you any longer, Sukuna. I'm tired of your bullshit,” you say. You looked at him lazily and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sukuna raised an eyebrow as he looked at you. Slowly he stepped towards you and stopped when he was standing behind you. “If you are tired then take a nap,” he whispered into your ear from behind. His hands held your arms gently but firmly.
His skin touching yours sent a tingle of excitement and you held your breath as the heat from Sukuna's breath hit your bare neck. You gripped the pantry with both hands and closed your eyes as Sukuna pressed his lips to your shoulder. “N-no, I don't want to take a nap, I—” You try to move your body away from Sukuna who has now pushed the front of his body to the back of your body— until you can feel his bulge being pushed against your ass which is only covered in white lace underwear.
Before you had time to move away, Sukuna quickly cupped both of your breasts. You only wear a lilac crop top without a bra. Sukuna's big hands gently squeezed your breasts from under the t-shirt you were wearing. "What do you want baby? Tell me," he whispered in your ear in a low voice. A soft moan came out of your mouth as his two index fingers moved in circles on your protruding nipples. Sukuna knows all too well how that has always been your weakness. Your body leaned against Sukuna's hard-rock chest. With your eyes closed you stammered trying to answer, "I.. I want to- Ah!" You let out a small scream when Sukuna harshly pinched your nipple.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
You could feel him smirk at his tone. He sounded like he really enjoyed what he was doing to you. Sukuna's hands wildly played with your breasts and nipples— squeezing and pinching them. "Tell me, sweetheart. What do you want? I'm all ears," he teased as he licked behind your ear which succeeded in making your legs weaken and a delicious moan escaped your mouth. Hearing this, Sukuna grinned even more happily. You bit your bottom lip in hopes of holding back the moan that was forcing its way out. You moaned when Sukuna's hand slowly came down and pressed his finger firmly on your clitoris which was starting to swell.
"Already wet for me? You're such a slut, y/n, I barely touched you," he said. His long middle finger trailed across your folds, running them up and down. Sukuna's one hand was busy playing with your breasts while the other was busy with your pussy. You threw your head back, onto Sukuna's shoulder as he in gentle, sensual circular movements touched your clitoris, you felt very sensitive to his touch at the moment. Makes you unable to properly digest what is happening and you almost no longer remember what you said to your previous lover.
"S-sukuna.."
"Yes, my lady?"
Sukuna kissed your shoulders and neck alternately. He bites your neck in small pieces, sucks, and licks it until he leaves kiss marks everywhere. You know what he's doing— marking you, so you don't forget who you belong to. "Stop.. ah- Sukuna.. I want to—ah!" Sukuna didn't let you finish what you wanted to say as he quickly moved his finger on your pussy. Your body is filled with pleasures that only your boyfriend can give you.
“Talk to me, y/n,” he said, teasing you.
"I want to break up with you, for fuck sake!"
You took a sharp breath and tried to pull Sukuna's hand away from you. But he quickly took both of your hands— grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and pushed you against the pantry table until your chest was pressed against the cold surface. "Fuck, y/n. You never understand, do you?" he asked, now starting to look a little annoyed. He held your hands behind your back- trapping you so you couldn't move. "Guess I need to remind you who you belong to now, y/n. I hope this time it gets through that pretty little head of yours," he said. So with one pull Sukuna removed your panties and ruined them.
"Ah!"
Sukuna slapped your ass hard, leaving redness there. You groaned in pain but Sukuna knew very well that you were enjoying it. He touched your thigh which was soaked with your own fluids. “Fuck, y/n..” he whispered to himself as he felt how wet you were. One of his free hands squeezed his penis which was now very hard from outside his trousers. Sukuna let out a sigh of pleasure before he pulled your hair until your head fell back. He inserted two fingers into your mouth from behind. “Suck,” he commands which you spontaneously go down on. You sucked his long finger, playing with your tongue there. "Such a whore, aren't you, my lady?" He said when he felt the warmth of your dirty mouth on his fingers.
Sukuna withdrew his fingers, placed one hand on your back and without further ado he inserted both fingers into your pussy, making you moan. His fingers slide in and out of your pussy, your supple walls hugging Sukuna's fingers. “S-sukuna.. please,” you moaned as you felt his fingers slowly stop moving. "What is it, y/n?" he asked. You swallowed hard, no longer concerned with your common sense, you just wanted to feel the pleasure your lover gave you. “I want to cum..” you whined pathetically.
“I can't hear you, y/n,” Sukuna said.
“Please, baby.. I want to cum, I want to feel your cock inside me,—” you cried. You feel like you can't take it anymore. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own and Sukuna's touch seemed to be a remote control. Sukuna chuckled evilly and he took his fingers out of your pussy. He eagerly undid the belt he was wearing before taking off his trousers and boxers alternately. You groaned when you felt Sukuna's long, thick, hardened cock slap against your ass.
“Fuck y/n! feel so good, always tight for me,” Sukuna moans while throwing his head back. Your body arches because of the pleasure as Sukuna inches by inches pushes himself inside you. Both of his large hands gripped your hips as your gummy wall hugged his long, thick-veined cock, sucking him to go further until the head touched your womb. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! your cunt hugs me so well, baby. Oh, god!” He keeps pushing until he's bottomed out.
“N-no, Sukuna— Ah.. too big, I-I can't—” Your hands moved behind you trying to push away Sukuna's body. You felt full— your body felt full of Sukuna's big cock. Sukuna shook his head and held your hand so you couldn't push him away. “Shh baby, don't say that, I know you can take me,” He shot gently. He pulled your body until your back touched his chest. One hand touched your tummy and the other grabbed your chin, guiding your face to look back. He pressed his lips to yours.
Passionately, he kissed you. He kissed your bottom lip, occasionally biting it there. Slowly he moves his hips in and out of you. He kissed your lips making your moans echo in his mouth, and vice versa with Sukuna. He bit your bottom lip again and pulled it between his teeth before kissing you again—this time with his tongue. He kissed you until you were out of breath and pulled your face away from him. A string of saliva connected between your tongue and his as both your mouths opened— trying to catch your breath.
Sukuna looked at your face with a happy heart and got more hornier. Just like he wanted— you were too fucked up to make sense of yourself. He saw how your cheeks were red, your lips parted to let out a dirty sigh, your eyelids almost closed. This is the effect it has on your body. He loves the idea he has of you so much that he is so crazy about it, just like he is so crazy about you. So with that Sukuna slammed his dick into your pussy so hard it made you gasp.
His hands roughly grabbed your neck, gripping it and pulling your face closer until your face was next to his. One of Sukuna's hands went down to your pussy. His finger found your clitoris again and rubbed it hard making your legs shake. “N-no, Sukuna— ah! please..” Sukuna ignored your moans and continued rubbing your clit until you couldn't take it anymore and released your juice, covering the pantry walls, you, and him. Sukuna smiled with satisfaction, “That's right slut, cum for me, feel good, hm? do you like it, y/n? Do you like it when I make you cum like a pretty little slut you are?” He talks dirty in your ear so sensually. Making your overstimulated cunt begging for more.
“Answer me, you slut!” He slapped your sensitive cunt making you yelp with pleasure. “Y-yes, I—” You can't continue with what you're about to say because Sukuna one more time pounds his cock roughly to your cunt. You can feel tears stream down your face because of how much pain yet pleasure you feel in your body. Sukuna brings you to cloud nine, making you want more. “Kuna, please.. f-faster, more, more, ah— please,” you begged.
Sukuna threw you a mocking chuckle as he gripped your neck tightly. He can feel your moan in his palm hand. “You want to break up with me yet here you are begging for more. Can't get enough of my cock aren't you, hm? You're such a slut, y/n, you're my slut,” he whispered his last sentence in your ear as he erotically bit your ear and licked it. He slowed down and pulled his cock out of your sloppy cunt. You let out a voice of protest and move your hips— looking for his cock, getting more needy the second you can't feel his cock. “Be patient and tell me that you want to break up with me,” he said to you.
You shake your head, “Please, kuna, fuck me, I want you,” you beg, shamelessly. You pushed your ass to Sukuna, hoping his gonna put his cock back at your horny cunt. Sukuna smirked, knowing damn well he got you in his finger, you never get enough of him, of his cock, that's for sure. Slowly, he pushed his still-hard cock back to your cunt. “Tell me, baby, tell me how much you want me to fuck you,” he whispered. You close your eyes and part your lips as you feel your cunt being full of Sukuna's thick cock again. “I want your cock— fuck! I want you to fill me in, I love you kuna,” you whispered without realising it, too fuck up to think straight.
The last sentence is enough for Sukuna to fuck you to oblivion. So he pushes your body back to the cold surface of the pantry. With one rough pound, his cock is fully inside your cunt. His swelling cock bullying your overstimulated cunt. “Now you know who you belong to, every time you ask for break up, I'm gonna fuck you so hard until you lost your mind and only remember I good I made you feel. How you being such a slut for this cock and taking me so well,” keeps pounding his cock to you. And Sukuna doesn't plan to stop anytime soon. He had a whole night to remind you that there is no breaking up in your relationship with him. You had no other choice, it's not like you don't enjoy being fuck by your boyfriend anyway.
#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#satoru gojo smut#toji fushiguro smut#sukuna x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo satoru
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i’m not sure if there’s any conspiracy theory i can think of that’s more twisted than the crisis actors theory. i’d rather believe things like shootings aren’t staged than believe they are - weighing the cons of being wrong about either, i can look like a fool for believing a lie or i can tell genuinely grieving and traumatized families that they’re lying about their children’s deaths. there’s a level of cruelty involved in deciding it’s worth the risk of doing that just to maybe be right based on extremely shoddy evidence.
#ask to tag#shooting#shooting tw#kinda vaguely mentioned but just in case yknow#anyway. the videos these people make are fucking sick and i hope all of them realize what they've done and live with that guilt#'look at this parent who just had to bury their toddler. they're not crying hard enough. they don't look sad in the correct way.'#'now harass them for years whenever they mention their loss.'#it's just... how do you reach a point where that's acceptable behavior to you?#also i just wanna address that i know a lot of conspiracy theories have very antisemitic roots#and they deserve criticism for that. i don't want to imply they're off the hook just because i think crisis actor theories are sick too#also they're related most of the time. so that's fun#9/10 the vaguely mentioned 'elite' or 'shadow government' supposedly staging these things are just. stereotypes of jewish people#don't give conspiracy theorists the time of day. it's really not worth your time or your sanity#i'm already insane so i willingly expose myself to that bullshit so i can shittalk it LOL#i remember it so you don't have t- [this message has been redacted]#benny.exe
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i know you already made one but i NEED more mean dom! armin arlert to readd 🙏 it’s not a want anymore it’s a NEED for him to say the most evil, diabolically, appalling shit to my face. this man can destroy me however he wants. i need this man to degrade me so bad.
🔞 You're So Mean!
★ Note : mean dom armin? HMM. i cooked this up, hope it's nutritious!
★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+ "sl*t"/"wh*re"/"b*tch", dom!Armin, mean!Armin, condescending dirty talk, rough sex, toys, edging, he takes a pic of ur orgasm face, breeding, creampies
He has a cooing, sweet voice when he talks down at you after cumming all over your face.
"Aw, you look so sweet with your tongue out for me. Like a pathetic little puppy. Come crawl over onto my lap and lick me clean now."
You're riding his lap — sorry wait no, correction; he's making you ride his lap and practically bouncing you up and down on his cock. And you're just holding onto his shirt's suspenders, blanking on his cock as it hits deeper and harder with each thrust.
"Nasty fucking slut." he smiles cutely, "Listen to how loud that pussy is. You should be ashamed of how wet you are."
His tone sounds praising and you're so fucked-out when he's got you folded over and restrained over his desk. So you just think he's praising you, you're barely registering the vileness of his dirty talk.
"Baby, you're so pretty, 'm gonna breed your cunt tonight 'n put a baby in you. I think you'll like that, huh? Yeah a slutty little succubus like you loves creampies."
He especially loves taking you from the back, so he can grab your neck from the back and pull you back, forcing you to look up at him with teary eyes.
"Min, 'm gonna cum! Don't stop!" you cry. He just gives you this naughty smile, "Oh baby, bad girls don't deserve to cum. Maybe if you beg I'll change my mind, though. So beg."
"Please! Daddy!" you beg. He's awful, he uses your cock-drunk state to his advantage and makes you beg until your voice goes hoarse.
"That's it, keep begging like a god damn slut. Gonna make me blow my load inside you, pretty girl." he's edged you until your mind melted like a popsicle stick in the heat.
Your knees buckle, he has to keep you upright. His pale, soft hands come down to rub frantic circles at your clit. "Let's make that lil' clit feel good." he grins devilishly against your ear.
Oops! He edges you again and jerks his cock over your pussy 'till he cums, painting your slit white with creamy cum.
"Please! I was so close! I need—mmm fuck!" he shuts you up by stuffing a vibrator into your pussy and letting it buzz at max.
"Aw, I know you were close that's why I edged you, you dumb fucking slut. But look, I'll be a nice boy for you and let you cum this time as long as you tell me you love me, baby."
He almost laughs at how quickly you tell him your I love yous. Over and over. You're incoherent, hole clenching around the G-spot clit vibe, arching and thrusting your hips to help your orgasm along faster.
"Look at that slutty cunt working for its orgasm." he mocks, using one hand to spread your plush ass wide enough until both your holes are exposed. "You're so beautiful. Now you can cum baby, come on chase it like a good puppy and cum for me."
Your eyes roll back, you pant and make the most erotic expression as you cum which Armin mocks. He takes a picture of your cumming face and shows it to you as you come down from your orgasm.
"Isn't she a slutty bitch?" he smiles, then his thumb goes to press the little heart so that picture is favorited in his gallery.
"Miiin, you're so mean!" you complain half-heartedly.
"Yeah, well, you asked for it." he kisses your tear-stained cheek. "Not my fault I caught a kinky bitch, is it?"
Oops. Yeah well you can't deny it — you practically begged your nice boyfriend to degrade you, didn't you? He was so sweet in the beginning but now he loves fucking you until tears stream down your cheeks.
© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
#🔞.smut#armin#armin smut#armin arlert#armin arlert smut#aot smut#snk smut#attack on titan smut#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#armin x reader#armin x fem reader#armin x reader smut#armin arlert x reader
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Zandik’s Whore
cw: rough sex, corruption kink(?)
tags: mean tutor!zandik, bimbo f!reader, corruption kink(?), one use of y/n (sorry 🥺), petnames: cockslut, slut, pet
nsfw under the cut
check out my masterlist here!
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Zandik sat quietly in the library completely engrossed in a book. He was trying to take his mind off the fact that he was being forced to tutor a ditzy girl like you. If he could’ve declined, he would’ve but he didn’t have a choice as he was in the top of his class and needed extra hours to add to his transcripts. You were on the verge of failing the one class you absolutely needed to pass in order to graduate. Zandik didn’t know what drove him more insane, your lack of brains or the skimpy little outfits you wore as you pranced around campus all bubbly and smiling brightly.
Soon enough, he hears the clicking of heels sound through the quiet library. He looks up to see you walking in wearing a pretty little sundress, your hair bouncing as you walked towards him with a bright smile on your face. He feels his pants tightening as he observes you but tries to push away those thoughts, offering you a cold glare.
Oblivious to his outward distaste for you, you approach him happily, “Hello! I was told you’re the one who’s going to be tutoring me. Zandik, right?” He fights the urge to roll his eyes at your cheerful attitude and closes his book, “Yes, that’s me.. unfortunately.. You must be y/n.” You nod and plop yourself down in the chair right next to him. As you do so, the subtle smell of your delicious perfume surrounds him and your bare leg brushes against his, making his cock begin to ache. “Thanks for agreeing to tutor me. All this information on ruin mechanics is really going over my head”, you pout, twirling your hair around your finger.
Seeing you pout like that only draws his attention to your plush, glossy lips. Zandik licks his own lips as he stares for a moment, then quickly clears his throat and returns to his usual cold demeanor, “It’s not like I really had a choice in the matter.. Anyways, this subject requires one to think critically. I can guide you through understanding the fundamentals, but it is ultimately up to you to retain the information.” You smile at him but then a dumb look crosses your features, “But I’m not good at retaining difficult information..”
Zandik blinks, “Well then I don’t exactly see how you’re going to pass if you can’t even retain the information I give you.” Your eyes begin to well up with tears and your bottom lip quivers slightly, “B-but if I don’t pass this subject t-then I won’t g-graduate.” Zandik lets out a disgruntled sigh, an idea forming in his head as he smirks internally, “Then I suppose I could provide you with some additional tutoring outside of our scheduled meeting times.” You give him a hopeful smile, placing your hand on his thigh, “You’d do that for me?” The feeling of your hand on his thigh almost makes him groan but he lets it get caught in his throat, “Of course, but this is only under the condition that you.. return the favor” As he says this, he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheeks, resisting the urge to lick the saltiness of your tears off his thumb. Seeing you all pathetic in front of him, looking at him like he had hung the stars in the sky himself made him want to ruin you and that’s exactly what he’ll do.
A couple days later you find yourself in his dorm room, settled on his lap with his cock in your tight dripping pussy. Zandik has you cockwarming him, not bothering to thrust up into you unless you get the answer correct. His fingers toying with your cute little clit as he quizzes you on the composition of ruin mechanics. “And where does ruin technology come from?” Zandik asks as he continues to rub circles on your aching clit. “F-fontaine..?” You moan out. He slaps your clit harshly and growls lowly in your ear, “Wrong answer. Try again.” You cry out at the pleasurable sting, trying to move on his cock, “Mmph.. Please… Please fuck me.” His hand makes contact with your poor clit again, causing you to whimper, “Only good girls get fucked by my cock. Now try. Again. Where does ruin technology come from?” You bite your lip, desperate for some friction, and answer dumbly, “I-Inazuma?”
Zandik rolls his eyes and quickly pushes you onto your hands and knees. He pushes down on your back, causing you to arch so perfectly for him and he begins thrusting roughly into you, “What a brainless little slut. All you’re good for is taking my cock.” Your lewd moans fill the room as he pounds his thick cock in your soaked little cunt. Your eyes crossing and your tongue lolling out of your pretty little mouth. If only you knew just how incredibly dumb you looked right now. Zandik slaps your ass making you let out a pathetic whimper and he presses his chest to your back. His hot breath tickles your neck, “Once I graduate, I’m gonna make you into my pretty little assistant. My brainless little pet. All you’ll ever need to do is please me.”
You clench around his cock at his words, “Wanna be good f’you. Wanna be your good girl. Make you feel s’good…” Your words slurring together as all you can focus on is the way his thick cock hits all the right places. Zandik chuckles darkly as he bites down on your neck, releasing thick ropes of hot cum into your awaiting cunt, not caring that you haven’t cum just yet, “What a perfect cockslut you are already. All you’ll ever need is my cock, nothing else.” You whine as he pulls out of you and you feel his cum drip from your aching pussy, “Wanna cum, Zandik..” He grabs you by your hair, forcefully pulling you upright and making you look at him. You look so dazed and drunk from his cock, mouth hanging open slightly. Zandik clicks his tongue, “Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. You’ll take what I give you.” He pinches your tongue between his fingers, pulling it to stick out slightly and he spits into your mouth then taps your cheek, “Now swallow.” You obediently swallow and he pats your head, “Good girl.”
He had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching for his cock, his touch, his degrading words and praises. Such an obedient little thing. Why should he waste his time trying to fill your mind with information you couldn’t even comprehend when you could just be his little cockslut instead?
꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷
a/n: hehe i like writing for dottore/zandik. if he becomes a playable character i’ll cum on the spot
#dottore smut#zandik smut#genshin smut#dottore x reader#dottore x reader smut#zandik x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin impact dottore#genshin impact zandik
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Let Your Knights Weep
One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?
The stiff upper lip.
This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.
Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.
First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:
CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:
“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”
Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:
Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:
By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh;
There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.
At the end of the next laisse:
He tears his beard that is so white of hue,
Tears from his head his white hair by the roots;
And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.
We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.
OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:
Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....
As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....
When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....
They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....
Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…
In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.
I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.
In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.
In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:
In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.
--
In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing.
(Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)
#history#writing#historical fiction#medieval history#medieval#middle ages#historical#masculinity#history of masculinity#toxic masculinity
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service dom shoko…
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni - shoko deserves more love on my blog
tags: wlw; use of strap-on; smut; praise; dom/sub dynamics; dirty talk
shoko laughs, her pretty voice sending a small tremor up your spine. she doesn't recognize her beauty, she never did, but you take her in as you gaze up at her from over your shoulder, imprinting her expression into your memory. her bun is coming loose, unruly brown strands releasing from the binds of the hair tie and framing her tired face. her eyes glisten with delight, her cheeks tinting a shade of red as she gently squeezes the fat of your hips.
"you missed me, huh, precious?" she coos, with a soft rut of her hips and your eyes flutter as you press your face back against the pillow.
"mhmm," you moan, tightening your grip around the cushion and biting back a whimper from the sensation of her stretching you out.
her nails lightly graze over your plump ass before returning back to your hips. she's holding your arch in place, before proceeding to grind her hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion. she grins hearing you curse under your breath, watches you with approval as you melt underneath her ministrations.
she's already made you cum more than you needed tonight, but how can she deny you when you begged her to fuck you too?
these intimate moments remind her of why she hates the distance between kyoto and tokyo - if only you lived here then she could spoil you like this every single night instead of having to wait months for you to return.
the thought agitates her, prompting her to thrust a little deeper than expected but she merely quirks her brow with surprise hearing your dulcet response.
"fuuuck, yes, harder..."
"think your pussy can handle it?" she teases with another rough delivery, watching as your teeth sinks into the pillow to hold back a cry.
she keeps herself in place, filling you up beautifully as she waits patiently for your reply. you lift yourself up on shaky forearms, angling your head back once more to meet those warm irises.
"it's your pussy, sho" you correct as you move your own hips to fuck yourself on her dildo. "give it to me..."
she does without question; fucking you hard, and so so good to make up for the last four months that she hasn't seen you. your eyes cross over, both of your hands gripping onto the pillow as your naked body sinks deeper into the mattress. your voice bounces off her bedroom walls, while shoko pants softly in response.
"love it when you fuck me," you sob between your cries of pleasure, "l-love it when you make me cum..."
it eggs her on when you speak like this, when you remind her of just how good she makes you feel.
"fuck, baby, you're so hot," she breathes, "all stuffed and whiny, taking it like the good girl that you are...cum for me, precious, I know you're close..."
it doesn't take long before your thighs quiver uncontrollably, before your pussy spasms around her dildo as you choke out another moan. there are tears pricking your eyes, and your head feels heavy as the muscles in your body gradually relax from the intense contractions.
you press your cheek against the damp pillow, trembling from the stimulation and sniffling in between trying to catch your breath. you feel your lover's tender hands slowly traveling up your waist, lightly squeezing your sides before carefully shifting you so are laying on your back.
you're too delirious to notice that her lips are on yours until she starts kissing you, but it only translates the deep yearning that you've both been aching for.
"better now?" she whispers against your lips.
you snag her bottom lips between your teeth and your clit throbs greedily as you spread your thighs wide beneath her.
"one more," you mumble, "please?"
she giggles before planting a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose. you're insatiable tonight, and you’ve never been this desperate before - the realization tangles up her heartstrings.
she repositions herself, this time focusing her eyes on your own as your attention shifts towards her strap, watching with concentration as she penetrates you once again. you're so wet that you easily take in every inch, and goosebumps trickle all over her body when she notices you shiver from the contact.
"I'll give you as many as you want, sweetheart," she answers with a dreamy sigh, before capturing your lips on hers once more.
#shoko x reader#ieri shoko x reader#shoko ieri x reader#jujutsu kaisen fan fiction#jjk smut#shoko smut#ieri shoko smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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A Kiss Is All I Need
Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Chapter Three
Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.
Words: 2k
A/n: Ok ngl i kinda hate this chapter T^T I've rewrite it so many times and i still don't like it but i think it's better than the other versions. Also the series will be bigger >.> I think i will add 2 or 3 more chapters.
Masterlist / Series Masterlist
Taglist: @zenka69@cryptid-l0ver@saelwen-shy-elf@aemondsdelight@shari-berri@kckt88@watercolorskyy @dae7tina@saturnssrings@dixie-elocin @arabis-world@tulips2715@reedmurdock@ladythornofrivia@tssf-imagines @eeeeeevesstuff@venmondiese@bellaisasleep@darylandbethfanforever9@snh96@liv-cole @a-beaverhausen
A huff fell from your lips as you walked up the stairs to your apartment. The moment you saw Aemond’s card, you ran into your office to reread his resume. Desperately to see if you maybe missed something but there was nothing that mentioned the famous Targaryen name.
The Targaryen family is one if not the only, most powerful House in all Westeros. They come from royalty, inherited with old money. You only knew the basics from this ancient family since you didn’t like to read or watch news or drama from celebrities. You think you only heard Aemond’s name once when the news of his relationship with an older woman came out.
Aemond seems a private person so that’s probably why you didn’t hear much about him.
Why would he give his business card if he didn’t want you to know who he was? It didn’t make any sense!
Because he knew I wouldn’t have hired him if I knew the truth before the interview.
You sigh, putting your keys on your door lock and opening it. You were greeted by the sound of your daughter squealing and laughing which made a smile grow on your face.
Putting your bag on a small table beside the front door, you walk into your small but cozy apartment, and you are met by the view of your daughter sitting on the sofa while Aemond sits in front of her on the floor. Letting the small girl play with his long hair.
A giggle fell from your lips as you stared at the ‘beautiful’ hairstyle that your daughter made. One ponytail on the right side of his head, which is held by a hot pink hair tie full of glitter, and two small braids falling on his shoulders.
Emily notices you by the door and jumps in excitement. “Mommy! Look! I tried to do a... val-valryian?” She tried her hardest to say the word but failed which made Aemond chuckle.
“Valyrian.” He corrects her.
“Yes! I tried to make a valyrian hairstyle... but I think it didn’t go well.” She pouts while looking at Aemond’s hair.
You walked to her and gently kissed her head. “It’s perfect, sweetheart.” You took a seat beside her on the sofa. “Did you have fun today?”
Emily nods and smiles. “Yes! We went to the park and ate ice cream there! And then Aem took me to a toy shop and bought me this plushie!” She grabs the green dragon plushie beside her and shows you. “Her name is Vhagar! Aem told me that he once had a BIG lizard named Vhagar so I decided to name it after her.”
“That’s a gorgeous name, Em. Did you thank Aemond for the plushie?” You raise your brow to your daughter as she hugs Vhagar.
The girl nods. “Of course, mommy!”
You smile and pat her head. “Good. Now go clean your toys so we can go eat dinner.”
Emily quickly stood up from the sofa and ran to her room, picking up toys and plushies from the floor on her way there.
Aemond also stood up, pulling down the side ponytail that Emily had done but left the two braids on which were hidden a little by the rest of his hair. He looks down at you and smirks.
“You have a lovely home, Y/n.”
A blush spreads on your cheeks. The way his voice sounds so husky and gentle. His little smirk and the way his eye trails down your form almost made your knees give up.
“Thank you.” You say while folding an orange blanket on the sofa, trying to distract yourself from the handsome man in front of you. “Look Aemond... We need to talk.” You sigh and take a seat on the sofa, Aemond following your lead.
“About?” He asks, frowning in confusion.
You took out his business card from your pocket. “About you being Aemond TARGARYEN! About you coming from a freaking famous and ancient family. And the fact that you left that part out of your resume.” You rest your head in your hands. “Why would you need this job, Aemond?... I doubt it’s because of money.”
He closed his eye and sighed. “I know I should have told you but to be fair, I thought you would notice... You know, the silver hair.” He says while pointing to his hair.
You look down at your hands and let out an embarrassed laugh. “You’re right. I should have noticed that obvious part but in fairness, I rarely watch news or drama.”
He hums in knowledge. “Look, this wasn’t my idea. It was Aegon.” He starts playing with his fingers as his nerves begin to spike up. “I’m in a really bad place right now and my brother thought that if he got me to babysit one of the sweetest kids in the world, it would make me feel better... And I think he was right.”
A smile appears on your lips as a soft smile forms on his thin lips when he talks about Emily. Sighing, you rub your hands together. “Will it be dangerous for Emily if you continue to babysit her?”
Aemond frowns at your words. “Dangerous?”
“Yes, dangerous... Paparazzies, media, etc.” You look into his eye, trying to see if there are any worries that he might be hiding. “I don’t want Emily or me to get unwanted attention.”
Aemond grabs your hand and rubs gently his thumb on your skin. “I swear you and Emily are safe. No media or paparazzi will find you.” He says with a serious face. “I’m a very private person and I have contacts that will keep your life private from the world... so don’t worry, Y/n.”
You nod and sigh in relief. “Okay... Alright, alright.”
The last thing you want right now is an army of paparazzi on your door or following you around and fake stupid stories about you and Emily on the news. You bet Nat would be thrilled and say that you should take this as an opportunity (or take advantage) to grow your business. But of course, you wouldn’t do that. You want your business to flourish on its own and by your work, not by 15 minutes of fame because of Aemond.
His hand squeezes yours gently. Your heart feels like it is going to burst from your chest at the tiny and sweet smile that Aemond gives you. The things you would sacrifice to taste his lips.
For fuck's sake, Y/n. Get a grip!
“All done, mommy!” Emily reappears in the living room, dressed in her pajamas.
You stood up and walked to the kitchen to cook dinner while Emily took a seat beside Aemond, wanting to show him her favorite cartoon show.
After a few minutes, Aemond stood up which made Emily pout. “Well, i think it’s time for me to go.” He leans down and places a kiss on the girl’s head. “See you tomorrow, little princess.”
Emily pouts and grabs his arm. “Please stay a little longer! Eat dinner with us. Mommy is a really good cooker!”
“I don’t want to bother. I-”
“Nonsense! Come, eat with us.” You interrupted him. “I hope you like pasta tho.” You the pot in the middle of the table as Emily went to grab her favorite juice.
Aemond took a seat at the table, humming in pleasure at the amazing smell of your cooking. “I love it.”
From that day, Aemond took the habit of eating dinner with you and Emily. Months go by and you three have got into a healthy routine. You would drive Emily to her school and go to work, and by lunchtime, Aemond would pick her up and take her to the park to play or to his sister’s apartment. Emily and Helaena’s kids become fast friends really quick and at least once a week, Emily goes to spend the night or day with them.
You and Aemond got also close. He would spend a few hours talking to you while drinking wine when Emily was in bed asleep. You two shared some stories from the past, him talking about how he spent the rest of his childhood isolated after the accident when he lost his eye. And you about how hard was to be a single mother at a young age, how Emily’s father just disappeared after her birth and never tried to know or pay child support.
Aemond was quite angry with your ex’s choice of actions, which was understandable, saying if he ever saw that bastard, he would show your ex the consequences of being an irresponsible bastard.
As days pass, you find yourself falling and falling for your daughter's babysitter. You can’t help but feel attracted to him. Aemond was everything a woman would want in a man. Handsome, charming, smart, and good with kids.
Your thoughts are always on him, and your dreams are plagued by his lips and hands. You know that you and he would never work, since both of you are from different worlds. Him being literally from royalty and you are just a simple common woman with a cute bakery.
////
“And then, me and Vhagar would fly away and explore the world!” Emily finishes her tale while showing Aemond her plushie dragon that was ‘flying’ in her hands.
Aemond just picked her up from school and took her to the park since it was a lovely day and she also begged him to go.
Aemond chuckles and gives her a sipping cup of apple juice. “And what about mommy and me? Would you leave us behind?” He faked a pout which made the girl’s eyes wide in surprise.
“Of course not! I would take you both with me!” She takes a sip of her juice and then grins at him. “We would fly to Dragonstone so you and Mommy could marry like the old Valyrian people did!”
Aemond almost chokes on his water. “W-What?” He coughs, trying to breathe normally.
Emily gives him a side-eye. “Oh please. I know you and Mommy like each other.” She takes another sip from her juice while Aemond just looks at her in shock. “You two are always sending weird looks to each other. And I heard Aegon saying that you are always eating mommy with your gaze... I don’t know what that means, but it must be good.”
“Emily!” Aemond was now red as a tomato. That’s it! That’s the last time he lets Aegon hang around with him while Emily is there.
The girl just shrugs. “Mommy likes you too, you know... I’ve never seen her so happy since you both met.” She gives her cup to Aemond and jumps down from the bench. “You should ask Mommy for a date!”
And with that, she runs off to the swings to play with the other kids in the park. Aemond just stood there with a cup of apple juice in his hand, his eye wide in shock at the small girl's words. She sounded so comfortable with the idea of him and you married.
Sighing, he puts the sipping cup on the bag and then looks back to where Emily was playing.
“Maybe the kid is right.”
#modern aemond#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#aemond imagine#aemond fanfiction#aemond fluff#hotd aegon#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd fanfic#masterlist#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd fandom
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Darling
Pairing: Any male character of your choice
Warnings: 18+ (mature content such as clit stimulation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise kink)
It was too much. But you didn't want it stop. You didn't want him to stop.
Both of you were in your bedroom, sat on your bed with you between his open legs and one of his arms around your waist, slightly grabbing your hip, holding your naked body against his clothed one.
"Shh... It's okay darling." He murmured soflty against your ear.
"Please..." You didn't know if you could take it anymore. After what you believed to be your third orgasm, you were whimpering and writhing your body against him. "Please... It's t-too much..."
"But you're doing so good for me, darling, hm?" He couldn't stop watching you. He couldn't stop thinking about how turned on he was just by watching you like this. The way you wouldn't stop moving against him, like your body wanted to move away from him but your mind was begging him to keep going, was doing something to his brain chemistry. He was fluttering and slightly lifting his hips off the bed as he kept hearing your heavy breathing leaving your opened lips.
At this point his dick was throbbing against his pants.
"I c-can't..." You whimpered.
"Yes, you can darling. C'mon, baby, you're doing so well." He praised while lightly grazing and circling the tips of his fingers on your throbbing clit. He knew that you already came three times but he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. And you didn't want him to stop either.
"P-please, please, please..." You kept muttering as cries of his name left your lips. You started to feel tears brimming in your eyes as the tips of his fingers were rubbing, circling and grazing your ovestimulated pussy slightly faster than before to keep you stimulated but also to make you reach your orgasm.
"Look at you, baby. You look so pretty crying for me like this. You can give me one more, can't you darling, hm?" He said as he used the hand that was holding your waist wipe the tears that were starting to fall on your cheeks.
"C'mon, love, you can do it. Give me one more, yeah? Just one." You couldn't even answer to his praises anymore. Your mouth was unable to form any words as you felt your orgasm approaching.
You could've sworn you've never came this hard in your life. The moment you reached your peak, you were full on whimpering, crying and shaking as he held you against him.
"Shh... Good girl... You've been such a good girl, yeah?" He praised softly as you felt your sweaty hot body relaxing on his frame.
You were humming as he kept sending soft praises and cooing on your ear while lightly caressing your body and covering it with a sheet after lying down on the bed with you.
"It's okay. I'm here, my love... Sleep, yeah?"
‐--------------‐-------
A/N: oof damn😮💨 the way I started to clench my thighs as I wrote this... btw this is my first imagine, also english is not my native language so if there are any mistakes pls don't be afraid to correct me, okay?
#obx smut#twilight smut#loki smut#bucky smut#marvel smut#rafe cameron smut#eddie munson smut#steve harrington smut#stranger things smut#tangerine smut
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Astrology observations 🩷
These are my first observations ever. I've studied astrology for quite a long time now, so I thought maybe I'll give it a try. 🩷
8th house suns / stelliums really experienced a traumatic upbringing/childhood and I feel like both parents are aloof and not very comforting
They also get along very well with scorpio suns/ scorpio placements or in general water placements
Do virgo suns and mars kiss very aggressively with tongue or is that just my experience 😵💫😵💫
Pisces rising men are the "pisces men" you all always talk about. They are the worst
They are stoners, they don't get their sh*t together. They kind of don't know how to deal with their sensitivity?? I only met aggressive, dominant and self absorbed pisces rising men.
This can also sometimes apply to pisces moon men. Especially paired with earth in their chart
I know a girl that was born in the evening of October 23rd. She insists on being a libra, even though in reality she's a scorpio sun. She miscalculated her sun sign and put 8am instead of 8pm (her birth time)
You absolutely cannot change her mind about that. She even downloaded co-star where it says that she's a scorpio sun. But she doesn't believe it. She even said " I don't care, I'm still a libra sun"
That's kind of a typical scorpio sun trait, they are very stubborn (because of their fixed nature)
Gemini risings can appear very fake. They aren't necessarily, but they're hardcore people pleasers, they need attention like the air they breathe. They wanna be involved in every friendship group possible. They love standing in the limelight
This could also be because of their leo ic (some gemini risings have leo ic, some have virgo ic) but the ones with leo ic were the star at home. Their parents always let them shine, they didn't have to dim their light at home. So now they're used to it.
If unevolved those leo ic's can be too pleased with themselves and even self-absorbed
Pisces suns cancer moons don't always have to be the "sweet innocent cry baby🥺" everyone makes of them. They can be loud (especially with a fire rising) they are extremely ambitious (because of their cardinal moon) and they go after whatever they want.
Gemini rising is a model placement. The long limbs, the bright eyes, the strong hair. MODELS
Also, there are no cusps in astrology. You're either one or another sign, but never a mixture of both. That is the exact reason for degrees in astrology!
You're either 29 degrees of any sign, or 0 degrees of the next.
If you feel more drawn to the next one, it could be because of personal placements in the next or prior sign or because of aspects that have the "vibe" of this sign.
But please let's eliminate cusps completely from astrology🩷
Astro.com and the app TimePassages are amazing for getting to know yourself and learning about astrology!
That's it for now, I hope everyone could resonate and please know, these are just my observations. They aren't meant to hurt anyone!! Please take everything with a grain of salt. 🩷
Also English isn't my first language so please don't be mean and feel free to correct me on any mistakes!
Hope you liked it, byee🩷🩷
#astrology#astrology observations#gemini rising#pisces rising#scorpio sun#8th house stellium#cusp#ic astrology#leo ic#degree theory#29 degrees#virgo sun#virgo mars#pisces sun cancer moon
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