#but i hate the loki show <3

[sylvies-kablooie]

word on the street says that sylvie haters will come out in full force tonight. reminder that 1. i do not care and 2. it’s way funnier to let people on the internet complaining about superheroes yell into the void than give them responses.

[pristine-starlight]

i love Garv and co in theory but not so much in practice

these guys are fuckin aimbots so it always starts off with them in the lead and sometimes i just can’t bring it back on solo bc the spawnrate is just not high enough. like i am effective as hell at meat murder but if i only get one batch of enemies every twenty seconds then it’s kinda hard to get to them first

[brothersonahotelbed]

i wish marvel was only known for eddie brock and venom. not thor or captain shitpants or whateve.r. venom 1 and 2 were so fucking delicious

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Hangover Remedy

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: fluff, bad hangover

Summary: There's nothing worse than having a hangover went he air conditioning is broken on a hot summer day. Luckily, Loki is around to help cool you down.

Squares Filled: hangover (2023) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The sun is peeking into your room like the menace she is. Get up, Y/N! Time to get the hell up and do something productive! You can practically hear her yell at you, and the sunlight seems to shine brighter at the thought. You groan and turn away from the window not having enough energy to get out of bed and close the curtains.

What the hell happened last night? You have a pounding headache and achy body. Tony threw a party at the compound and invited everyone he knew. Thor came over with alcohol from Asgard. Everyone knows you. They knew if he presented you with alcohol from Asgard, you’d challenge him to a drink off. You’re never the one to back down from a challenge even though everyone told you to.

Now you have a raging headache and an aching body because of it.

If you’re going to combat this hangover then you have to at least get out of bed. You roll your body off the side of the bed and plant your feet firmly on the ground. With all your strength, you stand up. The headache seems to get worse at higher elevation but you deal through the pain. Not only do you have to deal with a nasty hangover, it’s unbearably hot. Sweat sticks to your skin making your clothes cling to your body.

You walk to the bathroom and brush your teeth. If you’re not going to do anything today, you have to at least do that. You shuffle down the hallway to the kitchen where Tony is. He’s making something to eat and looks up when he hears you come in.

“We thought you were dead,” he chuckles.

“Shh.” You close your eyes and hold your finger up to silence him. “You’re too loud.” You open the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water. You chug half of it. “Turn the air on, would ya?”

“No can do. The air conditioning unit is busted.”

“You’re Tony Stark. How can your air conditioning be broken?”

“Since you’re the one who overloaded Friday when you sprayed alcohol all over the motherboard.”

“Sorry,” you wince.

“Tell that to everyone else. I’m outta here. I’m going to Pepper’s house where it’s cold. The repair guy is coming later today to fix it.”

Tony grabs a water bottle and leaves the kitchen. You sigh and walk into the living room to see Loki sitting on the couch reading a book. If he knows you’ve entered the room he doesn’t show it. You walk over to the couch and sit next to him, and he peeks at you from over the top of the book.

“Rough night?” he smirks.

“Shut up.”

“I told you not to outdrink Thor. You weren't going to win.”

“Scold me tomorrow. Right now, I need total silence.”

Loki goes back to reading his book while you lean your head on the back of the couch. It’s still uncomfortably hot inside the compound so there’s not a position on the couch that feels good. Since you and Loki are on the same couch, every movement you exert makes him move. He sighs in frustration and lowers his book.

“Stop moving.”

“It’s hot in here.” You use your hands to shift on the couch when you feel something cool radiate onto your hand. You touch Loki’s arm which is cold to the touch. “You’re freezing!”

“One of the perks of being a Frost Giant, love.”

You don’t think twice about what you’re about to do. You immediately cling to his side and allow his skin to cool your own. He hates other people touching him but when he sees the content look on your face, he decides that maybe this isn’t so bad. He shifts on the couch to make it more comfortable for the both of you, and he wraps an arm around your body. He opens his book back up and continues to read as if you’re not there.

His cool skin and your raging hangover are enough to make you fall back asleep. You stay like this for the rest of the afternoon. Before the sun sets, Thor, Tony, and Steve come back from wherever they are with laughter in the air and smiles on their faces. Loki glares at them from across the room which makes them stop in their tracks.

“If one of you wakes her up, I’m stabbing all three of you.”

“He’s serious,” Thor whispers. “We should go.”

Loki smirks at their retreating figures and smiles when he feels you snuggle closer to him.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Stitches 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

We've all agreed that The Quiet Ones, Follow You Anywhere, Hidden Treasures and this fic (maybe more) have built the deluluverse.

Summary: You find your work hindered by your client's son.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had to do it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re not late, but you’re too dang close! You pride yourself on being at least fifteen minutes early wherever you go. Being self-employed, you make a point of always being on time. And you are but that long hand is a bit too close to the tick mark. 

It doesn’t help that Mrs. Odinson is one of your best and favourite customers. You hate to let her down. You shake off that rattly feeling as you pull up to the gate and glance at the time again. Still a couple minutes to spare. 

You buzz in with the button and wave at the camera. You’re never quite sure who’s at the other end but they always just let you through. You suspect it’s standard business and all the help know every face that comes and goes. 

You roll through and steer around towards the vehicles along the east side of the curved driveway. You’ve never seen the sleek silver car you pull in next to but you know Mrs. Odinson’s pear-coloured porshe and Mr. Odinson’s slate grey beemer. They must have company. You can’t remember if she said there was a special occasion. 

You slide into the space and grab your bag from in front of the passenger’s seat. You push open the door and gasp as the seat belt keeps you from climbing out. How forgetful! You unbuckle and untangle yourself, stepping out in your heeled oxfords and cigarette pants. 

Your reflection looks back at you from the sleek polish of the unfamiliar silver car. You smile and shut your door, locking it with a chirp from your key fob. You tuck the key ring into your blazer pocket and bounce up towards the front door. You climb the stone stairs, broad and trimmed with curled railings. You stop at the top and clang the large knocker, a raven’s head with a ring in its beak. 

A man in a dark suit answers the door. You’ve seen him before with his steely hair and sleepy eyes. He’s often the one who opens the door but he says nothing and shows you to Mrs. Odinson’s salon, as she calls it. 

As the man leaves you just outside, you peek in through the open doorway. You see your client before the standing mirror in the corner, swirling as she checks her reflection. You cough and give a gentle knock on the door frame. 

“Ah,” she spins to you with her pretty smile, “just in time, darling.” She struts over breezily, “the hem has come undone on this.” She smooths her elegant hands over her bodice, “so much for designer, eh.” 

“Oh, my,” you give her a look up and down, “shouldn’t be any trouble.” 

“Thank you, darling,” she trills and strolls back to the mirror. You follow her and pull up the stool you often use for such a fix. You have a routine between you, you know what she expects and you do it. 

You sit and open your bag. You pull out your needle and stir through your spindles to find a matching thread. As you thread the eye, she continues to preen in the mirror. 

“Something special going on?” You ask in your usual small talk. 

“Didn’t I mention? My son’s come home at last.” 

“Your son?” You look up as her curiously. 

“Oh, not Thor,” she laughs, “no, no, he’s always about, isn’t he?” She tugs on a blonde wave, trying to make is stay in place, “my other son. Loki. Finally decided to move back home. Not here, certainly, but close by. Near to his mother.” 

“Mm, that’s exciting,” you comment as you grab the hem and work around her movement. 

“Isn’t it? We’re having a little luncheon. At the tea room, I feel a public place will deter an outbursts,” she pouts at herself, “you know how family can be.” 

“Erm, sure,” you agree dulcetly as you tie off the thread, “all done.” 

She swirls, her skirt nearly hitting your face. You lean back on the stool and wiggle your nose. She admires herself. She is beautiful. Her age takes nothing away from her natural grace. You could only dream of having a similar bearing; you’re a bit too short, a bit too clumsy. 

“Mother,” a voice drawls from the hallway. You glance over as you wrap up the thread around the spindle, “we’re due to be off.” 

You don’t know that timbre. It isn’t Thor’s rumbling baritone, rather something smoother, something refined. You tuck away the thread as a slender but tall man appears in the doorway. He tugs at the cuff of his jacket as he furrows his nose. 

“Ready, just needed a touch up,” she faces him, “darling, I’ve a rack for you to take. Wouldn’t want you to make the trip just for a loose hem.” 

She points to several garment bags hung from a rack against the wall. You stand as her son’s green eyes find his mother then drift over to you. His sharp features turn imperious. 

“Must you trouble so,” she swats at him as a loose thread dangles from his cuff. 

“Wasn’t me, mother, I only just purchased the piece,” he counters, “quality, these days.” 

“Darling, come, you’ve some scissors,” she beckons you forth with a flutter of fingers. 

You reach into your bag and take the silver scissors from their sheath. You approach them with a smile as the man stares at you, eyes narrowing. He’s much unlike his brother. Much calmer. 

“May I?” You ask and Mrs. Odinson forces his arm towards you. 

He hums but offers no protest. Your fingertips brush his shirt sleeve as you roll back his jacket cuff and snip the offended thread. You feel the seam with your thumb. 

“Should do for the day,” you advise, “but it’ll come loose eventually. I could do a quick sew-off...” 

“We’re already late,” he declares and rescinds his arm. “Mother.” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” she pats his chest gently, “go on then, get yourself off. Your father and I will catch up. Oh, are you taking Thor with you?” 

“I believe he is capable of tending to himself--” 

“Yes, but... he does enjoy indulgence,” Mrs. Odinson girds. 

“He is an adult and it isn’t yet noon,” Loki reprimands, “I shall drive on my own, then.” 

“You always do as you wish, don’t you, Loki?” She rebukes playfully. 

He grumbles again and his eyes flit toward you one last time, “you might have the tailor see my brother. Perhaps she could sew his lips shut so we might have a peaceful lunch.” 

Your cheeks bulb a bit larger at his joke. You can't entirely disagree.

“Eh, don’t begin,” Mrs. Odinson giggles as she snaps shut a compact and shoves it in a clutch, “you’ve only just returned.” 

“Mm, yet it feels I never left at all,” he frowns, still watching you.  

You chalk it up to curiousity, perhaps he feels it improper to ask, you do feel it a bit much to introduce yourself without prompting. The Odinson household always holds an air of formality you can never quite riddle out. You keep a smile on your face as his cheeks dimple and he tilts his head. 

“Right then,” he straightens his posture and tugs his jacket straight, “suppose I should go and hold our reservation before they think to give it away.”   

He inhales and pivots away, striding off with long, stiff steps. You watch after him before you turn back to the room. You go to slip your scissors back into their sheath and drop them into your bag before lifting it. Mrs. Odinson holds a cape and a jacket before her. 

“Which do you think it better?” She asks as you cross to the rack to gather the waiting hangers. 

“I think the cape would be better, it is rather warm. It shouldn’t rain I think,” you proffer, “is this the hounds tooth?” You peek through the opening of one of the garment bags. 

“Yes, dear, it is so lovely and yet that dang clasp is giving me such trouble,” she sounds ready to swoon at the tragedy, “might you replace it? Perhaps a button might do instead?” 

“I’ll have a look,” you fold the bags over your arm and hike up your bag, “I’ll be off then. Hope you have a good lunch.” 

“Thank you. Don’t you work too hard, dearie,” she trills after you, “much too nice a day to be pent up.” 

You sweep off with your armful. The dresses are heavier than one might expect. You find it surprising how fabric can add up. You go downstairs and once more find that stoic man in his dark suit. He opens the door for you and you thank him brightly. 

You amble down the steps, looking around your load to keep from stepping on the treacherously low edges of the bags. You would hate to trod on one of Mrs. Odinson’s dresses. You’re so distracted with your efforts to keep from mussing up the hems that a honk has you jumping in your boots. 

You yipe as you turn to face the silver car, its bumper stopping just short of you as the headlights flash. Your lips make an O and you quickly scurry out of the way.  You dip your head down guiltily. You should’ve been paying attention. 

The car door opens on the other side as you approach your own. You peer over with a sheepish look, “I’m sorry--” 

“You should be careful. I could’ve hit you,” Loki says, more accusatory than concerned. 

You smile, “I know, I’m sorry. I was distracted--” 

“Certainly, you were,” he affirms, as if telling you exactly how the world works, “and what would I do should you be caught under my tires? Can you patch yourself up so easily as a stray cuff?” 

“No, sir, I’m sorry. Again, I wasn’t meaning to get in the way--” 

“You don’t look very sorry. Not so many people smile in the face of mortal injury.” 

Your cheeks wobble but you keep your smile. You can’t help it. When you’re happy or nervous or even confused, you just tend to smile through it. A smile makes everything a little better. 

“I’m not smiling at that--” 

“Then what are you smiling at?” He hisses harshly. 

You bat your lashes and look side to side, “you.” 

“Me?” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you being smart?” 

You shake your head and your lips twitch, “smart? No, sir, I’m only... I suppose I just smile at everyone.” 

“So you would,” he mutters and angles back to his car, “be sure to stand back then. Wouldn’t want to run over your toes.” 

He drops into the car seat and slams the door. You stand back and watch him buckle in. He takes his time, adjusting his mirror, then his long fingers tap his shifter before he cranks it into reverse. He swerves around and hug the pile of clothes.  

You don’t blame him for being agitated, you’ve had a few close calls yourself. Accidents are never fun. His adrenaline was just going and at least he cared enough to be upset. It’s a good reminder to be more aware. 

🪡

The fabric store isn’t very busy. The higher-end boutiques never are. You don’t often come to them yourself but you desperately need a yard to match Mrs. Odinson’s crushed velvet jackets. You need to replace a full panel and you can’t compromise; she’ll notice. She has a good eye. She never seems to miss. 

Time is hardly on your time. You agreed to drop off the lot the next day. She has a gala and needs that one dress in particular. You know she’ll expect the rest.  

You walk around with a swatch in hand, comparing the hue and feel. You don’t want the new material to contrast. You can’t forget the thread; you don’t have quiet that shade of magenta. 

You stand amid the velvets, flipping over the large rolls, tugging the end, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. Your advance is patient even as your inner expediency nips away at you. As you come to the end of an aisle, you stop short as you look up. There’s a shadow there, waiting. 

You stand still, waiting for them to come down that aisle. You’d hate to get in their way. But they don’t and in an instant, the shadow flickers away. You hear them retreat down the next row and you curl around, seeing no more than a leather heel before the figure disappears. 

How odd. 

The mysterious entity doesn’t distract you for long. The pinks are close, each of them seems just a shade off of what you’re looking for. You sigh and breathe out between your lip, rolling your tongue around the tip of a needle that isn’t there. A habit. 

You lug out each roll and carry them down to the front counter. You lift each up as a woman greets you from the other side. You smile and clear your throat. 

“You don’t happen to have any in the back,” you wonder, “I’m looking for something in between.” 

You show her the square of crushed velvet and she sucks her teeth, “not quite, I think. I think we’ve something close in our catalogue but it wouldn’t be at this location. The north end may have it but I can’t confirm. 

You sniff and nod, still smiling. It isn’t her fault she doesn’t have it. You remember the days you worked in a fabric shop, though it wasn’t as nice as this one. You thank her and take the rolls off the counter. 

“I’ll just put these back then. I need thread anyhow,” you announce. 

“Wonderful, you just let me know if you need anything, hon,” she beams at you. 

You nod and turn back. You take the rolls back and set them away how you found them. When you spin, you feel something shift, as if there’s a breeze in this stagnant shop. You peer around. It’s strange, it’s as if you’re being followed but you haven’t seen a single other customer in the shop. 

You tilt your head and cluck your tongue as you carry on to the racks of thread near the counter. You dive into the search for the perfect thickness and colour. It’s a much more fruitful hunt. As you pluck out the very strands you need, you hear the door. Your head pops up and you glance behind you curiously. You don’t see much of the other person as they leave the store, you never even saw them pass. 

You shrug and take the spool to the counter, “thanks again,” you say to the associate, “better get out of here before temptation gets the best of me.”

[milaisreading]

Crossdresser!Yn, who shows her love through actions, pt2:

*CD!Yn, eating some fruits with Lorenzo and Aryu*

Lorenzo: These apples are really good!

CD!!Yn: Really?

Aryu: Yes, very tasty. As far as I got it, they were brought here from Aomori, from that Hirosaki apple park

Lorenzo: So some fancy apples? No wonder they are good. Wish I could eat them more often.

Aryu, absent-mindedly nodding: Same

CD!Yn:...

A few days later, at the Italian stratum

Snuffy: Why are there boxes and boxes of apples outside? Who paid for them?

Niko: Don't know.

Lorenzo: Are they those fancy ones?

CD!Yn, answering without thinking: Yes.

Snuffy, eyes her suspiciously: How do you know?

CD!Yn, looking around nervously: Well... Oh, look at the time, I need to go and practice with Noa-san hahaha

⚽️

Sachs: I miss my shows

Grim: Same here. It's a little boring here

CD!Yn, walking by: Can't you watch them here?

Ness: Nope. We didn't get any German channels here

Kaiser: Sucks, to be honest.

Gesner: All we have are some English once that are boring

CD!Yn:...

A few days later...

Noa, looking at the TV in the common room in disbelief: Who got you all those TV channels

Ness: I don't know, but it's my turn to watch my show now, Erik

Gesner: Just 5 more minutes and you will get the remote, calm down

Kaiser: Can't believe I have to wait...

Sachs: Whoever did this has a heart of gold.

Grim: It was getting so boring

CD!Yn, staring at them from the entrance: :3 ❤️

⚽️

Karasu: I want some BBQ

Shidou: Same. I hate this place for not offering any.

CD!Yn, eversdropping while talking with Loki: Hm?

The next day...

Delivery driver: We have some BBQ food here ordered.

Loki: We didn't order any-

Charles, covering Loki's mouth: We did!!

Shidou: Yes, that's ours.

Karasu: Yeah, that was us. Loki-san, pay the man.

Loki, removing Charles' hand: I won't be doing-

Delivery driver: It was already paid for. You just need to take it. I have boxes for a whole football team with me.

Loki: It was paid for??

Charles:??

Karasu: Huh?

Shidou: Whoever this was, hope they get sucked dry.

Loki: Shidou, can't you say anything normal?

Shidou: Nope ♡

Meanwhile

*CD!Yn, sneezing and shivering*

Sachs: Are you alright?

Ali: You aren't getting a cold, right, kid?

CD!Yn: I don't think so

Yukimiya: Let's bring you to the doctor. Just in case.

⚽️

CD!Yn: These sandwiches are really nice. The meat is very good.

Gagamaru: Yes, I wish there were more.

CD!Yn, looking at her full plate: We can share mine! Here!

Gagamaru: Thanks ☆_☆

[percheduphere]

It troubles me when fans find Loki in his own tv series "out of character". Since the first Thor movie, Loki has shown a certain sweetness, protectiveness, and level-headedness that was overcome and eventually self-suppressed by rage and tragedy. He didn't have an environment in which he could thrive and, in Frigga's words, succeed at being who he truly is.

Loki desperately needed a support system outside his immediate family. That support system simply couldn't have been built on Asgard because of:

1. Odin's political machinations, including the intentional creation of an environment rife with sibling rivalry and blatant favoritism.

2. The racist if not xenophobic views of Asgardians.

3. The inherent masculine-dominant, warrior society culture of Asgard.

To break Loki out of his self-destructive patterns, it took the empathy of 1 brainwashed and memory-wiped TVA analyst to rightly recognize that Loki as a person has incredible potential and that he could actively do something about it. That Mobius uses this reasoning for the advantage of the TVA (then under HWR's helm) is a plot point I'll discuss later, but the fact still stands: Loki was given a second chance to be who he really is because of the choice Mobius made to intervene. Loki would have been pruned before he would have had the opportunity to meet Sylvie, B-15, Casey, and OB. This is fact.

Mobius literally drops everything--the case he's actively investigating--to intervene. The fact a minuteman immediately reports the variant of Loki he is most interested in has been taken into custody suggests that Mobius has been planning this intervention for some time.

Some fans hate Mobius for his treatment of Loki in the first episode. It is, indeed, manipulative, condescending, and to a certain extent, emotionally abusive. I'm not denying any of this, but from a narrative perspective, Mobius, to be a fully well-rounded character, necessarily must have his own flaws and personal conflicts to battle. Loki's evolution as a character, and thus his positive impact on others, would be missing an emotional beat of mutual reciprocation otherwise. That emotional beat pays off in every episode of S2, culminating in the final scene of the final episode. This is to say nothing of the likelihood that Loki would not have been receptive to any form of gentleness at that point in time to begin with.

Crucially, Mobius gets Loki to admit that his villainous persona is exactly that: an illusion constructed in a bid for control. Some viewers might interpret this scene as a shortcut for getting Loki to behave "out of character" by S1E2, but Thor 2 proves otherwise:

This scene with Thor demonstrates that Loki has a high pain tolerance and is adept at hiding pain. His need to mask his vulnerability, and how that vulnerability is intrinsically tied with the misplaced shame of who he is, resonates deeply with queer, people of color, immigrant, colonized, and adopted fans, many of whom have intersectional lived experiences (including myself). I believe it is for this reason that so many of us are desperate for blatant representation in mainstream entertainment, and to shame us for the sin of hoping is disturbing.

But I digress. Frigga, Thor, and now Mobius are among the few who can see through Loki's deception. That deception has the unfortunate effect of hurting not only innocent civillians but his loved ones and himself (closeting, internalized racism).

Once Loki is able to drop that persona through admission, however, he is able to relax and be himself in the TVA. And in being himself, Loki is consequently able to love himself, which manifests through loving Sylvie. S1 shows Loki holding her up on a romantic pedestal: he chases after her, he sings a song for her, he wants her to be okay. He loves her, yes, and though it appears she does not reciprocate (in my opinion, your mileage might vary), Sylvie does love Loki enough back to buy him a drink and counsel him about what he really wants. This scene is critical in Loki's development in the same way Mobius sheds light on his potential to be whoever he wants.

Both Mobius and Sylvie are integral for Loki to arrive at his turning point, his ultimate sacrifice. Loki loves Sylvie. He therefore chooses to not kill her. Killing her, moreover, would not solve the issue of free will. Sylvie is right in believing free will, and thus the multiverse, is right and necessary. Sylvie's moral question and Loki sparing her life, answers Mobius's belief that Loki can be whoever he wants.

On the other side of this coin, watching Mobius in the final scene, hearing Mobius whisper, "Let time pass..." answers Sylvie's question of what Loki wants, and what he want more deeply than not being alone is for his friends, most especially Mobius (whom he also loves and cares for most, to LIVE.

The series ends with only 2 characters heartbroken with the outcome of Loki's heroism, which Mobius knew existed within him from the beginning. He saw those little but important moments: Loki comforting his brother, Loki protecting Jane, Loki giving up his life to buy Thor time, and so much more, he saw and he knew Frigga's words were right.

[crookedfandomquill]

The only Marvel show I care about is back and I do, regrettably, have Thoughts:

1. I would die for OB

2. I missed Casey

3. I missed B-15

4a. If I see one more person calling Loki x Sylvie a straight ship I will commit a murder, it smells like bi erasure in these goddamn tags

4b. Sylvie is a great character who is once again condemned to the fandom role of “woman gets between a favorite gay ship and is hated for it”, have your ships and headcannons but be chill about it ok???

5. Mobius my love you deserve to ride a jet ski asap

6. Y’all fighting over whether Loki should be with Sylvie or Mobius while I’m in the corner dreaming of a chaotic but tender polycule

7. The number of slutty hair flips from Loki so far has cleared my skin, watered my crops, etc.

8. Everybody is so hot and I’m so bi help

9. “Skin?”

[amphitriteswife]

📓Ror/ SnV characters as teachers/subjects pt2📓

🌸Tag list🌸: @miss-seanymph-pani @viostar2095 @nicasdreamer @vilereign @tinyy-tea-cup @monstertreden

Qin Shi Huang:

🧧he teaches Chinese (it’s a subject where i live).

🧧He isn’t serious at all and mostly just talks with his students about anything and everything

🧧Chinese is difficult tho so if you need extra help he has no problem giving you some extra lectures

🧧gets along great with most teachers….most.

🧧’where did you go on vacation sir?’ ‘China.’ ‘But you’ve been there like the last 16 years’ ‘yes.’

🧧he teaches his students Chinese curse words. He denies doing it tho, so if you get caught it wasn’t him.

🧧brings moon cakes and usually changes the lesson to a longer lasting lunch break

🧧legit sometimes forget to prepare lessons and just lets everyone go early.

🧧’oh mr. Poseidon gave yall a lot of homework? Don’t worry yall we’ll just watch some movies today.’

🧧 gives homework sometimes, but doesn’t get mad if u don’t make it.

🧧goes to all school events, trips, parties no matter what he’s always present.

🧧probably got in trouble with the principal. Doesn’t care. Why? He’s one of the most loved teachers and would be shame to let him go.

🧧’class i’m tired so imma let yall go early today’

🧧allows eating in his class, as well as phones. Man is addicted to his phone too so he don’t see a problem with it.

🧧good friends with budda and Hades. They usually combine classes for trips n stuff

🧧legit thinks that the school should have trips to China. Bro will have a whole meeting about it and won’t back down

🧧has like those learning posters in his classroom. It’s usually a map of China and some basic words or numbers.

🧧puts on some Chinese drama’s or series for the class to watch, even the mukbangs.

🧧He spends his lunchbreak in a restaurant, might flirt with the waiter tho. It’s a Chinese restaurant too.

🧧if he aint at the restaurant he’s probably buying things or just talking with student or his coworkers.

🧧gives his credit card to the students he trusts and asks them to but him something, yall ofcourse can get something for yourselves too.

🧧’sir, you just 3 lessons in a row. How do you have Starbucks? It’s a 15 minute walk’ ‘I have my ways…’

🧧Every time you see him he’s with another girl, man’s a player ok. He had like idk 4829173927293739 concubines, wives not included.

Loki:

🎭 surprisingly teacher literature.

🎭 ‘this text means that children are like monstors, if not, worse’

🎭 is either nice or very creepy. No in between.

🎭 makes a distinguish between students he likes and doesn’t like.

🎭 legit gets bullied by his students. ‘Sir who is Sigyn?’ ‘Oh that’s a very long and delicate story.’ He doesn’t want anyone to know his personal life cause it’s……personal.

🎭 ‘Romeo (Loki) was a fool for believing Juliet (brunhilde) would ever love him.’ The class probably knew about it and laughs at him.

🎭 bro legit ran out the room crying and shoved Hercules aside who was like ‘yo wtf just happend’ and just continued his day. Loki on the other hand was crying in the janitor’s closet about Sigyn.

🎭 Do. Not. Mention . Sigyn. His soul is to delicate to think about her.

🎭Has a picture of Sigyn on his desk and looks at it a lot. But tries not to show it.

🎭 Writes poems about Sigyn, sometimes some art or some flowers.

🎭If you spot some purple flowers on his desk it’s cause they remind him of Sigyn, if you ask he’ll lie about it.

🎭 Gives surprise tests, why? Cause he can. He only gives them to students who don’t do their homework.

🎭 If u like literature he sometimes asks you about your favorite poem and has a conversation about it. May include it in his lesson too.

🎭 ‘Can i use the restroom?’ ‘I don’t know can you?’ Type of teacher, only to students he doesn’t like. If you a good student he’ll let you go to the restroom.

🎭 He spends the entire 1st week after holidays just talking with students and not doing any work.

🎭 hates meetings. He never shows up for then what got him in trouble but he doesn’t care. He thinks that meetings are a waste of time and that all the stuff can be put in an email.

🎭he’s divorced ok. And Sigyn has the kids most of the time. So he is a mood swing, he doesn’t have them he just is one. The other day he all smiley and okay and the other he just depresso

🎭 needs therapy, maybe counseling, and meds. He’s over brunhilde tho, so now he tries to get Sigyn back,

🎭class, if bro is in good terms w his kids n ex wife bro can be the most chillest teacher, like buddha and qin level, but he first needs to be mentally stable.

🎭 one of his kids visited him at school and he started crying, so he spent the whole lesson with his kid and let the class go early

Brunhilde:

🪽 She’s the school’s psychologist.

🪽 Students as well as teachers can go to her with their problems.

🪽She has her own office where she talk with ppl

🪽doesn’t get along with the principal (Zeus)

🪽When you have an appointment with her she usually already sends an email to the teacher’s class you originally were supposed to be in so that you wont be marked absent.

🪽She is also present during the teachers’ meetings. She has a list of ppl who visit her and backs up those students.

🪽She also handles suspensions, especially if the student had talked to her before or visits her regularly.

🪽Her office had pictures of her sisters, some are also teachers and some are still students at the school.

🪽 She is happily engaged to Siegfried, who sometimes visits the school and helps out with functions.

🪽 Also tags along, but she usually tags along for amusement parks or museums, cause she doesn’t like being too far away from her sisters.

🪽 Sometimes takes students out of lessons to have a talk with them to make sure they’re alright.

🪽She also talks with ppl who have dyslexia or example autism so that she can make sure the student gets al the time they need

🪽She’s pretty chill actually, she likes hearing about her students doing better in school and is willing to do everything to ensure that.

🪽offers counseling, extra lessons and making sure that her students well beings aren’t neglected.

✨Note✨: hey yall its me again, i made a new one w other characterss, only i ran out of ideas so i may make some more though also thank yall for Reading this 🩷

[toffeeanddragons]

10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags

Thank you so much @idle-brit for tagging me!This was lots of fun :) 💖

My tags: @delyth88, @elymusplant, @galaxythreads, @chemical-processes. No pressure to answer, of course :)

1. Loki (MCU)

As much as I love everyone on this list, there is absolutely no competition for number 1. Loki has been my favourite character of all time for nearly 6 years now (because clearly the best time to join someone's fandom is after they've just been murdered), and is showing absolutely no signs of being replaced anytime soon. I have a Loki blog, for god's sake. The brodinsons are my favourite relationship in any kind of media, ever. I love them so, so much. Loki's a million different things and feelings, all at the same time, all fighting with each other, which makes for a wonderfully complex and nuanced character. Also, he's hilarious. Look at that eye roll. This is a man who hates his life, which makes me feel better about mine. Thanks, Loki.

2. Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

As will become obvious throughout this list, I love me an emotionally traumatised crazy person. Klaus is that. One of the characters who makes me laugh the most, ever, show-stopping dress sense, and a bucketload of unresolved trauma which goes largely ignored by Klaus, the other characters and the narrative itself? It was love at first sight. Their banter with the other characters, especially Ghost Ben (rip) is one of my favourite aspects of the show. Here's to hoping that Klaus won't be getting the Allison treatment in season 4!

3. Pippa Fitz-Amobi (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder)

I binge-read the entire AGGTM series earlier this year, and instantly fell in love with it. Pip is one of my favourite protagonists ever. Impossibly clever, compassionate, obsessive, badass, and a teensy bit unhinged. What's not to love? I would die for her. I'd say that I'd kill for her, but I think she's got that covered. I think she's written in a very realistic way, firstly as a genius 17 year old girl who doesn't really know what she's getting into, and later as a haunted individual who wants to stop investigating but can't. The way she politely knocks on people's front doors to dig up their traumas, accuse them of murder and all-round ruin their lives is everything to me. She is my blorbo. I am so, so excited for the show to come out, and I'm sure that Emma Myers will do a wonderful job as Pip!

4. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)

One of the best-written characters, in one of the best-written series ever. Reading from her perspective is such a delight- she's endlessly suspicious of everyone around her, constantly on survival mode, trusting very few people and relying on exactly no one (to begin with, at least). She's a random teenage girl, from the poorest district, and she wins the Hunger Games. She's so mentally unstable that she has to be sedated, and still she's made to be the face of a rebellion. She's rude, and kind of unlikeable. She adopts all the weakest tributes, at risk to herself, knowing that they won't win. She's doomed to fail by the narrative. She's the it girl of 2010s dystopian YA fiction. Jennifer Lawrence is an amazing actress, who does a beautiful job portraying the depth and conflict of Katniss in the films. The themes and social commentary of the Hunger Games is one of its (many) strong points, and I am so so glad that people are talking about it again, because it is my favourite book series out there.

5. Mitchell Pritchett (Modern Family)

I have no idea what to say about this man, I just love him. He just like me fr. What an icon. Impeccable music taste. I've started saying, "no my god" now, and nobody understands what I'm talking about. Even in a sitcom, my favourite is the one with issues that he refuses to talk about or fix. The episode where he's trying to hide that he dressed up as spiderman makes me cry-laugh. Claire's speech at his wedding makes me just cry. He's not a perfect man, but he's certainly better than everyone else.

6. Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die)

My favourite cringefail loser! I said Katniss was doomed by the narrative in a metaphorical way. This idiot is actually doomed.

No but in all seriousness, I do really love him. Before the beginning of the game, he was just a relatively normal young man- but, when confronted with the inevitability of his own death, he made himself into a monster to survive. He has a violent vendetta against the local badass teenage girl, who is traumatised as hell already and does not need Shin chipping in as well, thank you very much. I love his relationship with Kanna, his biological sister; how he uses her, manipulates her, and still cares for her so much that he dies for her with a smile on his face in the Emotion route. Conversely, in the Logic route, his actions are a direct cause of her death, and I just love how much YTTD hates siblings. I hope that his past with Midori is explored more in either a mini-episode or the final part of the game, because I find it sooo interesting. I'm super excited to see whether he actually has no chance of survival, or whether he makes it out, against the odds, on one of the routes. He's a bit useless, so I won't get my hopes up.

7. Rue Bennett (Euphoria)

I think it goes without saying that Euphoria has its issues, lol. Sam Levinson is an idiot. While a lot of the show (especially season 2) feels shallow and like it doesn't care about its characters, Rue's storylines always have heart and depth and I am so invested in her arc. It's no wonder that Zendaya won 2 Emmys for this role, because her acting is phenomenal! Rue feels so real to me, in the way that she's trying so hard to stay sober but she falls down and relapses time and time again. Recovery isn't linear, but she's getting there, and I adore her with all my heart. Her relationships with Lexi, her mother, her sister, and her sponsor, Ali, are my favourites, and the healthiest for her, in my opinion. Her brief friendship/ romance with Jules may have kept her more solidly sober than anything else in the show, but Jules (understandably) cracks under the pressure of Rue's mental health, and can't be there for her. Rue needs to heal for herself, which she appears to be doing at the end of S2.

8. Max Mayfield (Stranger Things)

Duffer brothers, please just let her be happy.

Despite only being introduced in Season 2, Max has, in my opinion, had the best character development out of everyone on the show. Her growth from someone standoffish, rude, and uninterested in the group (maybe I'm being a bit harsh. She was, like, 12) to someone who is willing to risk her life to help her friends and Hawkins means so much to me. The scene in "Dear Billy" (S4, Ep4) where she escapes from Vecna remains my favourite in the whole show and will probably be burned into my brain forever. Her relationships with Lucas and El are very sweet, and some of my favourites in Stranger Things. Her final line in S4, after all her struggles over the season, being that she doesn't want to die literally breaks my heart. I hope she gets some degree of a happy ending in the final season. She was my first profile picture when I joined this hellsite, and I love her a lot.

9. Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)

The shenanigans that this girl gets up to never fail to make me laugh. The bit where she accidentally dyes her hair green and then has to hack it all off makes me feel awful for her, but. it's hilarious. Sorry, Anne. Her friendship with Diana is so sweet but also so funny to me because they really are the most chaotic duo of the 1880s. The scene where Anne accidentally gives her alcohol instead of fruit juice is so mortifying but so, so funny. Amidst all of the insane situations that Anne gets into are a lot of really heartwarming moments and relationships. Matthew and Marilla adopting Anne, even though they wanted a boy, because she's so endearing and alone in the world is probably what made me who I am today. I still haven't gotten around to watching Anne with an E, but I've heard it's amazing. I look forward to watching it when I have the time :).

10. Daphne Blake (Scooby Doo)

My first ever favourite character! Another one who I don't have a tonne to say about. She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. She has done nothing wrong, ever. She knows martial arts, so watch out.

Honourable mentions: Thor (MCU), Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games), Gretchen Weiners (Mean Girls), Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99), Maurice Moss (The IT Crowd), The Eleventh Doctor (Doctor Who), James (The End of the F***ing World), Ali Abdul (Squid Game).

If you read all of this then thanks, and have a great day!

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Rules To Break

Jotun!Prince!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Princess!Reader

Summary: Prince Loki of Jotunheim - son of King Laufey and heir to the throne is assigned to train a bunch of Asgardian men, in order to turn them into warriors. What happens when Odin's daughter, Princess Y/N crosses his paths in ways he would've never expected? While the Prince is completely unaware, the Princess struggles to keep up her several masquerades...

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, bit of suggestive smut... I think that was it! Let me know if I forgot something!

Word Count: 2k

a/n: This is it, guys! The grand finale! 😁 I hope you all like it! ☺️

Divider by the lovely @fictive-sl0th 💚

Tagging: (in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

You would've expected a lot of people to step inside your chambers. Estrid, your father, brother, guards - but you would've never expected to see the tall, bulky and handsome frame of the man who haunted your dreams and occupied your mind on no end - Loki. You couldn't believe your eyes at first, blinking heavily and literally staring holes into him. "L-Loki?" You asked in disbelief; quite shocked. You didn't know how to feel about this. Feeling the urge to yell at him on one side. To tell him to go away and never come back. You wanted to let him know how much you hated him. Spit it right into his face. Though, on the other side, you couldn't deny the way your heart skipped more than just one beat, when you laid your eyes upon him; or when he gave you that smile.

"Hello, princess Y/N." Loki started, taking a bow. "I am sorry for disturbing you and being so rude to just barge in - and I'm certain you wish to know why I am here at all." The moment his deep, yet soft voice urged to your ears, your memory immediately took you back to the lake all those weeks ago. Especially to that one night, where he kissed you. A tingly feeling spread all throughout your belly at that thought. "I-I... Yes." More words weren't able to leave your lips. You were way too overwhelmed by all those feelings and thoughts coursing through your system - and by his sudden appearance.

"Well, first of all, I... I would like to apologise. I am the reason you are trapped inside your chambers. I regret informing your father. I really do, but I-I had no other choice. You must understand this. I had my duties and obligations, unfortunately. So, I beg of you... Please forgive me, my princess." His kind and gentle words touched you. There was, without a doubt, honesty swinging within his voice, telling you that he really meant what he said. This wasn't one of his macho shows, no... That was him, showing you his probably most vulnerable side. You could feel that he was truly sorry, but... Could you forgive him? It was a difficult question, but then you remembered, how you actually lied to him. You didn't tell him who you were. You kissed Loki, without him even knowing that you were the princess. Hence, you almost slept with him. You put on a mask and more or less fooled him. So... Was it fair to be still angry at him, when he wasn't angry at you anymore? Both, you and him made mistakes.

You looked up to meet his ruby eyes, nodding. "I understand you, prince Loki. I forgive you - and I-I hope you can forgive me, too." The prince's lips twitched into a smile; visibly relieved. "I forgave you already a long time ago, Y/N." You couldn't help the blush, which spread over your cheeks; his charming smile causing your heart to skip another beat. But the look in his eyes told you, that this wasn't the only reason why he was here today.

"You, uh... You didn't just come all the way from Jotunheim to apologise, did you?" Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I didn't. You are right," he said, stepping closer. Blinking, you frowned, as the prince reached for your hand and gently - almost cautiously; afraid to make a mistake - took yours into his big one, swallowing it whole. You were confused and yet you felt those butterflies within your belly again, as he touched you; never wanting him to let go, because it felt so good. So right. As if your hand belonged right there. You saw that he was quite a bit nervous - something very unusual for the usually so confident and sassy prince, you thought. You could've sworn you saw his heart beating against his bare chest, as his stunning eyes met yours once more. "Y/N, I... I just couldn't stop thinking about you the past weeks. I tried to occupy my mind; take my thoughts elsewhere, but... I couldn't. I think about you day and night. In fact, I find myself thinking about you even at the most inopportune moments of the day. I was blind at first, didn't know what was going on, but then I realised... I... I love you, Y/N. Ever since those nights we spent together at the lake. I fell in love - hopelessly, and... And for some reason I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine, and should that link be broken, either by distance or by time, then my heart would cease to beat and I would die."*

His words echoed in your head, repeating themselves over and over again. Loki is in love with you. Loki loves you. He is in love with you. Hearing this, caused your heart to almost beat out of your chest. He loves you. You never anticipated, that he would ever feel the same. That you could be more to him than just an 'adventure'. Another fling. Nothing more. But now... Now he told you that he loved you - and the feeling was mutual. You didn't want to admit to yourself and neither to Estrid, but it was true. You knew that now. You loved him, too.

"I-I really hope that my heart didn't betray me and that you are feeling the sa-" You didn't let Loki finish his sentence. Enough talking, you thought and freed your hand from his gentle grasp, wrapping both your hands around his neck. Standing on your tiptoes, you pulled him down and silenced him with a kiss. The second your lips collided with his, fireworks exploded within you. It felt so good to finally kiss him again. So right. Like home... It felt like home.

Loki sighed into the kiss, relieved. That was all he needed to know, in order to ask you the important question, which was still lingering on his mind. But first, he enjoyed the kiss; unable to resist the urge to pull you closer. So, the prince did just that, wrapping his strong arms around you. "I take that as a yes then." Loki chuckled breathlessly, after letting go of your alluring lips. "You better will." He smiled; couldn't help but to kiss you again. It was more than clear, that you loved the prince truly and wholeheartedly - and yet, there was still nervosity running through his veins, given the fact that he still had to ask you the probably most important question of both, yours and his life. "There's... There's something else, darling..." Loki started, tracing the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. You looked at him expectantly; waiting patiently for him to continue to speak. "A question I have to ask you..." "You may ask, my prince. Whatever it is." He took a breath, eyes never leaving yours. "I really hope this isn't too bold to ask, but... Would you like to marry me, princess Y/N?"

You blinked, couldn't quite believe the words which had just left Loki's lips. "M-Marry you?" He nodded. "I know this is quite rushed, but yes. I really wish to marry you." "I-I..." "If you need more time or don't want to marry me, it's completely fine." You shook your head. "N-No! I... I do want to marry you! It's just so... surprising. I'm a bit overwhelmed." Loki's brows furrowed in compassion. "I'm so sorry, my love, for catching you off-guard." You squeezed his shoulders, giving him a soft smile. "It's the best surprise since years. I always wished to marry out of love - not because I had to. I just hope my father agrees to this..." "He does, my princess. I already talked to him; asked for your hand in marriage." Your eyes widened. "Y-You did?" "Yes. We have his blessing - and my father's blessing." A light-hearted giggle left your lips, as you felt happiness flooding your veins. Was this really just happening? Or were you dreaming? "So, we are going to get married?" "We are, darling. I'm never letting you go again. I don't want another prince to have you. It's time for me to make you mine."

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki to your eight-year-old twins, Áki and Váli. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, 'dirty' and 'dangerous' details, of course. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father." "Ask me what?" You flinched as Loki's voice was suddenly echoing through your chambers. He had been away on royal duty for three days and had just come home.

"Daddy!" Both boys jumped up; excited to see their father again. "Hello, little princes." Loki smiled and squatted down, opening his arms for them to run into - what they did, of course. Your husband lifted them up easily, cradling each son in one arm. "I missed you." "I missed you, too, daddy," Váli whispered, cuddling closer to Loki.

Both boys didn't leave Loki's side from then on; clinging to him. He spent some quality time with his sons, of course, before he sent them to play outside a bit. He had missed his own flesh and blood, without a doubt - but he had also missed you.

"What was it Áki should ask me?" The king asked, wrapping both his arms around you, as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the festive dinner tonight. You smiled at the mention of what you had told the twins. "Well, I was telling them our love story, because they asked me how I met you; being all curious about this and Áki was very enthralled by the fact that I was a 'warrior'. He asked me if you fell in love with me because of that... I told him to ask you." Loki chuckled. "So, you told them our fairytale-like love story?" "I did - but of course I left out certain... details." "Certain details?" "Yes... Certain details, which are not meant for children's ears." Your husband spun you quickly around in his arms; a cheeky smile spreading over his lips. He knew of course exactly what you were talking about.

"I should've devoured you back then." You looked up at Loki, giving him a playful frown. "I beg your pardon, my king?" Another low chuckle left his lips; hands dipping to skim the clothed skin of your hips. "Back at the lake. I should've ravished you. It wouldn't have been wrong, given the fact that I became your husband anyway." A loud giggle rumbled through your chest, causing Loki's heart to skip a beat. Oh how much he loved you. "Good point, my love, but we didn't know that back then. And we both know that we shouldn't have risked it. I did what was right." "I know, my sweetness, I know." "Besides, you didn't even know who I was." Your husband nodded. "That is true, but it wouldn't have mattered. Even if you had just been a maiden, working on a farm, I would've made you my princess. My wife. The mother of my children. My queen, you are the only woman I truly ever wanted. You being the princess of Asgard just played into our cards. Nothing more, nothing less." You wrapped both your arms around his neck, smiling and blushing. "I love you, my king. More than words can say."

* Disclaimer: The last line is actually a quote from Guillermo del Toro's 'Crimson Peak' and therefore isn't my writing. It belongs to Mr. del Toro. ☺️ I just found it very fitting.

[whyareyouhere66]

Omg cool I have an angsty request 😈(if you’re comfortable writing it<3)

Kind of Tom!Peter Parker x Male!Stark!reader x Tony Stark(platonic obviously) ??

Reader has a rocky relationship with his dad Tony, just wants his attention, to be seen by Tony etc. but once Peter joins and takes Tonys full attention reader just automatically hates him for ‘stealing his dad from him’. As time goes on reader just gets more hateful and jealous of Peter, maybe getting into fights with Peter on purpose. Suddenly there’s a new villain/anti-hero (??) that’s been interfering with there plans or just wrecking havoc to go after Peter. Plot twist when they finally catch them/they’re too hurt to keep fighting, it’s revealed as reader. You can make it as angsty as u want!

(A.K.A. Reader is Loki, Peter is Thor and Tony is Odin lol)

 AHH THIS

I love this trope-

So glad you requested this, (and thank you for checking stuff first) and enjoy

Also note that I’m not too fresh on the marvel timeline, if you notice anything that doesn’t exactly align with the movie than I’m sorry just brush past it- this also might be the longest fic I’ve ever written so 

Implied to be set around the start of Peter’s Spider-Man stuff. 

x

Look What You Made Me Do

Male Stark Reader x Avengers

“If I loved you, was a promise….

Would you break it, if you’re honest?” 

[idontwannabeyouanymore, Billie Eillish, 2017]

Cw: violence/fighting, Tony being a bad dad, slightest mentions of drinking, angst Kind of jumping straight into it too- 

I’ll fix a few things later I’m tired I want this one to be out and about

Named after a Taylor song, starting with a Billie lyric 💪💪 

If you were to ask anyone about the wealthiest men in modern day New York, it’s inevitable for Tony Stark to appear somewhere on that list.

He’s rich, handsome, a superhero. New  York’s knight in shining armor. 

Most believe his life is a dream, somehow oblivious to the fact that maybe a superhero doesn’t live life in the dream house. But when he’s made his brand through money, fancy houses, big parties, and shiny military weapons it’s easy for people to see no further than surface level.

That isn’t the case for his son, though. 

From a wealth aspect of it- the young Stark knows how grateful he is, how grateful he should be, for his father.

If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be currently sitting in this large bedroom, with a view most would pay a couple grand for, wouldn’t be surrounded by the various expensive objects linked to his little interests. It doesn’t even matter how much Y/n would insist on paying- he never seems to think much of it. Maybe it’s his way of showing affection.

That’s what Y/n hopes, at least. 

Because if not- there’s not much there. Tony Stark has never been much of an affectionate person, some may blame it on his own father. Others would blame it on the business- no time for distractions on a long days work.

But neither of those reasons matter- for all his son ever wanted is for Tony to love him the way he wants him to.

-

Static crackles through Y/n’s small speaker, and quickly the boy perks up. A short glance  over and he finds the old Queen record spinning aimlessly, with the tone arm at the end of its songs.

Pushing himself off the bed, he walks over to the stand where Tony’s old record player sits. Taking the arm off- he flips the record over to side b, before returning it to its place. 

The intro of Queen’s “Hammer to Fall” begins ringing from the speaker, and a small, satisfied smile grows on Y/n’s face.

He hums the beat, nodding his head with it while turning back to his bed- but something catches his eye.

Outside, there’s two figures standing out front. One eyebrow raises, Y/n slowly steps closer to the window. 

“Who-?”

Recognizing his dad, dressed in his best suit, Y/n leans closer. The other figure isn’t quite as tall as Tony, and looks quite obviously nervous. 

Y/n furrows his eyebrows. 

….That’s Peter Parker.

What the hell is he doing at Stark’s house?

***

The sound of a backpack falling to the ground echoes through the foyer- and immediately it’s a sigh of relief. The sweet, sweet air conditioning here is heavenly in contrast to the one at school.

Y/n faintly feels a vibration in his pocket- grabbing it only to see multiple notifications coming from a group chat. 

‘What are they on…’ he wonders, scrolling through countless messages worth of nonsense. He goes to reply, when-

“Y/n!”

His head snaps up at the voice, echoing out from the couch.

‘didn’t realize he was home…’ he looks back at the window, finding his father’s car parked in the driveway. 

“Oh.” 

Deciding the group chat can wait, the teen wanders to where his father sits. 

“What’s up?” Immediately Y/n sees the  scattered papers piling on top of one another on the coffee table, the short crystal glass filled halfway with rum. You’d think he’d wait until at least five, but that’s not the Stark way.

“I found a uh, form on the coffee table,” his voice sounds bored, tired, “something about textbooks for school?”

Y/n notices the forms sitting at the edge farthest from Tony, as if they’d been pushed away as far as they could go. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He says awkwardly, looking at the dirty laces of his shoes, “it’s fine, I got it.” 

“Well I can pay for them, if that’s what you’d like.” The eldest Stark shrugs, finally looking at his son from over the rim of his glasses.

Y/n almost feels embarrassed- when had he asked for that? He shakes his head, though it doesn’t hide the surprised look on his face.

“No, no you don’t have to-“

“Oh please, I got it, education is our future or something, right?” Tony shrugs, taking off his glasses and beginning to stand up from his chair, headed for the black leather wallet he’d left on the dining table. 

Y/n isn’t quite sure why he’s now rushing to step in front of his dad- there isn’t much harm in the gesture after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want the weight of depending on his father for everything to lay on his shoulders. Either way, excuses are already falling from his mouth.

“You really don’t have to, dad-“

“You’re acting like I’m handing you the presidents treasury,” Tony deadpans, “besides, you don’t have a job.”

Y/n pauses. 

“Wha- yes, I do-“ does his dad really not know about his job?

“Look, it doesn’t matter, I can get them used anyways-“

Before he can take one step closer, a nervous voice quips up from the doorway and ends the race for the wallet.

“Um, Mr. Stark?”

Curiously, Y/n and his dad snap their heads to see who has just joined them.

“Peter-?”

Peter Parker stands in the large door way, curled into himself with his backpack strap folded between his fist. His eyes are wide and questioning, looking between his classmate and his idol as if he had walked into the wrong room. 

Suddenly, Tony’s shoulders drop- and he’s no longer interested in any textbook or wallet. 

“Ah, Parker, didn’t think you’d make it.” He says bluntly, strutting away from his son and towards the obviously nervous boy. 

“Here, sit down kid.”

With the man’s hand pressed into his shoulder blade, Peter has no choice but to follow him towards the various seats lining the dining table. And from the side- Y/n watches, absolutely lost.

After he had seen his father and Peter talking, he kept it to himself. Knowing the boy, he had simply assumed Peter was asking for an autograph or a picture, just like half of the city. 

But now, he is in his house. At his table. 

What the hell is this?

“Um,” Y/n’s voice sounds blunt, almost too similar to his father- who’s already sitting down across from Peter with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, as if this was a press conference. 

Peter looks at him first, while his father throws a glance over his shoulder. 

“What’s this?” Y/n asks, pointing to the strange teenage boy sitting down in his seat. Tony tiredly leans back in the chair, twisting to the side just slightly so he could look at Y/n head on. 

“Y/n, this is Peter, Peter, this is Y/n.” 

“Uh, yeah, we know each other.” Peter pipes up, giving Y/n the shortest, most awkward smile it seems he could muster. Y/n’s face stays blank.

“Yeah, I meant what is he doing here?”

Tony doesn’t seem at all phased by the rude undertones of Y/n’s question.

“Peter is gonna work as my intern for a little while, I’m training him.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow. 

“For what-“

“Hey, quit interrupting, will you?” Tony dismisses him with the wave of his hand, turning around so he’s fully facing Peter. And Y/n lingers there, processing. He doesn’t like feeling like a shadow, not in his own home especially, but that’s the feeling that begins to overtake him.

Intern…? 

He tries understanding what that means- there’s many possibilities. Assistant, maybe. But when he looks between his dad and his classmate one last time, seeing that he’s been nearly forgotten in the room (aside from the short glances from Peter’s end) he turns around to retreat, fists clenched. 

His dad has had interns before, Peter likely won’t be much different. Possibly.

***

It’s been 5 weeks.

And multiple times, for each of those weeks, Peter has been somewhere mixed into the tangle of Tony Stark’s extensive schedule, far more entangled than Y/n has been for the past few years.

He shows up to dinner, trains at the Avenger’s tower. He comes knocking on the door randomly asking for life advice, or something- he’s everywhere.

It wasn’t even until week 4 that Y/n discovered the truth behind his sudden presence, when he saw the suit for the first time.

He has his own suit, god can you believe it?

Y/n watches on as Tony seems to easily bring Peter under his wing- hating how he has to avoid the burning green envy that burns his ears. How has Tony managed to take on the father figure role to Peter, when he barely manages that role with his own son?

‘It shouldn’t hurt this bad,’ y/n will think to himself, ‘you’re independent, relying on him will only make it harder in the long run.’

But he couldn’t help the hardened glare that arose every time he saw his dad, his own dad, bonding with someone else the way he had been wanting for what- 16 years?

Even now, sitting at the table, while the teen stares into the bowl of cereal in front of him, it’s just so irking to think about. 

His spoon scrapes the edges of the bowl, gathering the now soggy cheerios into a cluster in its silver dip. Then, they get lost in his mouth. Rinse and repeat- he does it over and over while staring a blazing hole into the wall. 

What is Peter doing that he can’t?

“Mr. Stark-“ 

Speak of the devil. 

Y/n’s grip on the spoon tightens.

Peter comes stumbling into the room, out of breathe as if he sprinted all the way here. He doesn’t even knock anymore, Y/n thinks, he’s made himself at home.

“Kid? What’re you doing here?” 

The nickname sends a shivering twitch through Y/n’s already sore muscles, tugging his face so he can’t control the annoyed look that comes through. 

They’re talking to each other now, Peter trying to tell a story far too quickly for either of them to follow. Y/n blocks their voices out.

His chair scrapes against the floor, and he grabs his bag to leave. 

“I’m going to school.” He says loudly, cutting off their conversation. 

“Oh, I guess I gotta go too-“ 

“No,” Peter freezes, looking at Y/n curiously, “no, no stay here longer why don’t you? Practically your house.” Venom leaks from his words, the sarcasm so loud it makes Peter flinch. 

“Y/n,” Tony groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Y/n’s stare only hardens.

“What?” He snaps, now looking at his father. 

“Really?” Is all that Tony manages, before Y/n is rolling his eyes and spinning on his heel.

“(F/n) is waiting for me.” He grumbles, snatching his phone and stomping out of the room. 

How does his dad not get it? Is he so blind he can’t even see his own blatant favoritism? 

The look of exhaustion displayed on his face would make you think hes working day and night having to put up with Y/n’s attitude- yet he’s unaware he’s exactly what’s causing it. 

Y/n doesn’t want to blame Peter, in the back of his mind he knows that it’s his dad’s fault. But it feels like his father is being stolen.

But can it really be theft if there wasn’t much of him in the first place?

Y/n knows that he’s picking all the fights, starting all the arguments just so that twisted part of his head gets some satisfaction. 

It shouldn’t be working so well.

The young Stark doesn’t return home until it’s just about dark outside, his backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders. 

He walks the long halls of his home, past the doors that could either be a guest bathroom or a weapon closet. Even if there’s more entryways than doors, his father opting for large empty frames, he walks the length of it with no specific destination in mind. 

He isn’t too sure where he’s headed anyways, considering he’s passed the way to his bedroom already.

Through half lidded eyes he guides himself through this maze of a house, bitter jealousy bubbling in his lungs. It’s such a haunting thought, a looming presence, and he wishes he could push it down the drain but it seems that he can’t. 

“Stupid, stupid Peter…” he mumbles, hand grazing the wall beside him. 

Ned’s voice still rings in his ears, breathy from how he had been exercising for most of the class.

“You don’t know what he looks like- what if he’s like seriously burnt?”

“I wouldn’t care, I would still love him for the person he is on the inside.”

Of course it caught their attention- Peter’s little crush on Liz wasn’t hard for most to notice. 

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

How horrible. 

Across the room, Y/n’s head snapped to where the pair was on the gym floor- Peter’s jaw slacked. It didn’t matter how much he tried to quickly say otherwise- Flash already had slid down the climbing rope with another remark slick on the edge of his tongue.

And Y/n watched on, eye twitching, feeling how his  friends slapped his arm in amusement. 

“I can’t tell if he’s for real or not-“ F/n mumbled from next to him. Y/n’s eyes never tore away from the scene playing out ahead, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah,” and his eyes squeezed shut, “me neither.”

Y/n’s fists curl together, knuckles scraping the wall for a moment before he’s pulling away.

It’s so frustrating. 

He’s walking further down the corridor, eyes sliding open just in time to catch a door left slightly ajar- and he pauses.

He’s passed the door many times, no doubt, but this time it’s different. There’s something pulling him inside, an unknown source that’s too intriguing to walk past.

Slowly, he pushes open the door. And there it is.

Old bins and cabinets with junk gadgets shoved inside- worn blueprints from his fathers old work. One eyebrow raises, cogs turning and grinding in his head.

There’s some things still in tact, some that have been broken apart and scattered about. Y/n kneels down to observe closer. 

He feels the smooth surface of a metal clasp against his fingertips, grazing the jumbled objects. 

This is his answer.

The backpack slides off his shoulders, thumping on the ground beside him. This room is one that his father doesn’t visit much anymore, now much more caught up in other things such as the Avengers, Peter, the scattered piles of paperwork that seem to constantly consume him.

And in the corner, there’s a bend in the wall partially hidden by a cabinet- if you were to tuck something inside, no one could see from the door frame.

Y/n already feels his mind blooming with ideas as he skims over the various parts and pieces in front of him.

If he can’t live up to his fathers standards, his fathers name, 

then he’ll make his own.

***

Multiple nights pass, weeks go by and Y/n finds himself spending the time after dinner until midnight cooped up in Tony’s old gear room. 

He likes to think it’s a family trait, something tying him to the Stark name, also known as his skill for parts. He can take a few glances at both his own notes as well as the old blueprints and suddenly have the necessary concept for a retractable weapon, built to strike out of an arm piece. And when he’s done, he simply drags it all into his tucked in corner- hidden until night falls again the next day. 

Time not spent at school, occasionally in his room, or in his new lab- is now spent taking full advantage of the gym on the higher floors. 

The Avengers don’t question it, barely even using it at the same time as him anyways. He’s planned it so no one is around to see the training he does, the work put in to not only muscle- but also skill.

He doesn’t have a vigilante name just yet- but perhaps that’s the fun in it. He’s totally anonymous.

And as the firm punching bag jerks beneath his incoming fist, he feels the creeping joy of power.

Y/n puts lots of thought into the first strike against the city- building an elaborate yet somewhat reckless attack plan, a formula. 

No citizen will get hurt- it’s only the churning, growing need for revenge he wants so badly to be satisfied. Among the jumbled emotions, and new discoveries, he knows what he wants, and he knows just who he wants to be.

Y/n Stark may never be the millionaire superhero his father is- but he will be something. Something that no one will ever expect.

***

“A new vigilante seems to be on the loose, unidentified. They’ve struck many times already, but police have noticed that, interestingly enough, among the pattern of crime scenes none of the main public areas or citizens have been hit. Could this be the work of an Anti-hero, perhaps? Down at the Avengers Tow-“ 

The anchorman’s voice is cut off, mid sentence, and Tony holds the remote firmly. 

Around him, on the expensive couches sit the Avengers themselves, but their faces are dulled by distress, their knuckles tense from a firm grip. 

“We gotta find this guy,” Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Beside him, Natasha agrees.

“If we don’t catch them soon, people will start doubting us.” She says it like it’s so simple, lips pressed into a thin line. Steve groans.

“They aren’t gonna start doubting us-“ he tries, but no one seems to believe him. 

“Oh really? Sounds like you’ve got some superstar solution then, huh?” Tony, always packed full of sarcasm, looks absolutely exasperated. He’s been looking tirelessly for this new ‘vigilante’ of the sorts - they don’t even seem to have a name. They work quickly and precisely, yet go at it with a powerful vengeance. Their skill- it’s almost something he wants to respect. 

The group begins to speak again, switching between civil turn taking and overlapping words. They don’t even notice the figure standing by the door. 

Y/n peaks his head around the door frame, watching these strong, powerful superheroes stressing over him. Oh, they just have no clue.

As they’re still talking, planning unknowingly within earshot of their own enemy- Y/n takes his notes. He listens, until finally he slips past the door and walks quietly down the hall as the sick, strong feeling of triumph sinks into his stomach. 

He’s got them.

***

The rumbling fill of chaos echoes from all around- machines jittering, codes breaking, and a light flickers down the hall.

Y/n stands at the center of the room, looking around at one of his father’s many warehouses from all around- this one being stationed north of his own home state- Maine, USA.

His dad brought him here only a few times as a kid, once or twice perhaps. He always hated it- still does, actually, hence the small bombs scattered across the place. 

It would be funny, to think that not even the Avengers have caught on to his pattern- but that may be jinxing it. Plus, he knows the common traits of each area he’s hit so far, the places holding the unjust power. This stop, though, he’s been waiting to finally hit.

“Stark Enterprises” - a sign once strung together in big letters, now laying at Y/n’s feet broken into pieces. The boy crouches down, picking up a chunk from the “E” and crushes it in his hands. 

Under his mask, he grins. 

His suit, not quite as advanced as those made by his father, fits him well. The sleeves are tighter, snugly wrapped around his biceps with streaks of purple running through the black material. Padding, like thin layers of armor, protect his torso and the pants are the most loose- cargo, with big pockets.

A mask is what pulls the whole thing together, though, concealing the entirety of his head underneath its black and purple coloring. 

Littering his hands, and even weaved into the material all across, are the gadgets he’s spent so many hours on. Rings sealed into the gloves have enough sharp metal twisted together inside that when activated, spread into blades. In the pocket around his waist band- is a button, the button, that with one push turns this warehouse into a cloud of orange and yellow. 

Y/n is still watching the crumbling sign fall from his palm, like grains of sand, when the door caves in behind him. 

“Put your hands up, tough guy, we caught you.”

Captain America, confident as ever, bursts in at the front of the group with his shield held high. Behind him, Tony, Peter, Natasha and even Bruce waltz right in after him. For a second- a glimmer of pride washes through Y/n’s body, they brought 5 to a fight against 1- he must be special.

“Yeah, times up buddy.”

Seeing his father, dressed in the famous Ironman suit, reminds Y/n of the whole reason this started- and another twisted feeling knots itself in his stomach.

The moment he’s been waiting for.

They can’t see him as he smirks underneath the mask, deciding to toy with them just a bit. He doesn’t speak- no one’s heard his voice when spoken through the filtered material yet. It seems they’ll be the first.

Y/n’s head cocks to the side, and raises an eyebrow- something the Avengers can see through the imprint of his mask. A challenge. 

Bruce’s battle cry cuts through the air- and suddenly the Hulk is charging. It startles Y/n for a moment, but quickly he steps to the side and lets the green giant crush the ground beside him. As Hulk gets back up, snarling and growling, Y/n is already grabbing a long beam, bent from where it fell with the rest of the Stark Enterprise’s sign, and strikes Hulk right in the gut.

The giant man stumbles slightly, yet still stomps forward. But Y/n isn’t in front of him.

“Hulk!” Natasha yells out, watching from across the room as Y/n comes from behind, mid air, wielding the same beam from before. Hulk is barely able to tilt his head an inch before the metal is crashing down into the area just below his head, and bruising his neck. 

He’s out within a few seconds, stumbling around clumsily while black dots tease his vision. Then, he falls to the floor.

“Well shit.” Steve mutters, bending his knees like a bull preparing to charge. He should’ve known sending in Hulk with no preparations would be a bad an idea.

“Sending the big one in first, huh?” Y/n looks at them cockily, “do you see me as a threat, Ironman?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “oh look at that, he can talk.”  He doesn’t even skip a beat as his suit begins to whir, the arm unfolding so a mini blaster pokes out from the forearm. 

The vigilante barely has time to react as strings of energy are thrown his way, jumping and dodging each of them narrowly. Tony doesn’t wait for him to regain his footing though, flying straight towards his figure.

Steve eyes Natasha, gesturing for her to move. The woman obliges, creeping around the fight so Y/n’s back is in front of her. 

Ironman grabs Y/n by the shoulders, pushing down with such strong force that the latter is forced back a few steps. He holds the metal sleeves with a firm grip, and at first Tony doesn’t notice as the boy’s rings begin to scrape against the surface. Sparks fly like the touch of a welding torch, grazing the edges of Tony’s mask just in time for him to realize mini blades are beginning to prod at his suit. Y/n doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity and shove the man away from him. 

Natasha watches closely, seeing how Y/n stumbles from the impact. She jumps at him.

Y/n extends his arm in her direction, not even turning all the way around, and his rings grow from small blades to a sharp spiral of metal pointing right at Black Widow’s chest.

She freezes, he smirks.

Of course, it’s not his intention for someone to die. That’s not what he does. This, well, is simply defense.

“How about we get right to the point.” He says, slipping his free hand into one of the pouches around his waist band. Out with it comes a cylinder- black and sleek with some sort of dial built in, a bright red button on top. 

Steve feels his stomach drop. 

“Pick a number.”

Tony, seemingly unaware of the detonator to have just been introduced, rolls his eyes, he’s growing impatient. 

“Alright, fine, 5- you wanna quit it with the games now?”

Big mistake.

Without skipping a step, Y/n is scrolling through digits on the small screen built into the detonator. It’s almost too quick for any of the Avengers to realize what he’s doing- and it’s far too late by the time they do. 

“Alright, then.” Y/n presses the button.

Steve goes to lunge forward, tries to make a grab for the device, but he waited too long. The whole room rattles, and the section just to the left of them suddenly bursts. Bombs. 

Y/n watches with a special glint in his covered eyes as everyone stumbles, yet his feet stay firmly planted in the ground. They’re startled, bits of the wall flying around and clattering against the floor. Peter snaps his head towards Y/n in shock.

“Who’s next?”

“Oh my god.” Peter mumbles, wide eyed. It’s the sound of his voice, his first time saying a word, that catches Y/n’s attention right away.

His teeth grind together, thumb smoothing over the button’s smooth surface. His mind mumbles, Do it again.

Staring into the large white panels of Peter’s mask, his guard is left fallen for just a moment too long. Tony sends one more blast his way. 

A jolt of pain seers through Y/n’s thigh. The energy was strong enough to surpass the material of his pants, leaving a heavy ache in the area. Y/n glares.

“You asshole,” he grunts, spinning the dial with his thumb before slamming down the button.

Above them, part of the ceiling crumbles.

Bits of concrete come tumbling down, Peter and Natasha diving for cover. But Y/n is no where near finished.

“How many bombs are there-“ Peter asks to no one in particular. His question is soon to be answered.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Steve grunts, sprinting to where his opponent stands at the opposite side of the room. Y/n feels the previous feeling of confidence, the smooth and cocky facade, slipping away. He wants to win.

Each of Captain America’s hits clang against metal couplets clasped to Y/n’s wrist- chaos ensues around them. Tony firing shots, Peter surrounding the fight, Natasha running for a hit at close combat- and hulk just starting to stir from his little nap. 

But Y/n doesn’t let up- not until it’s too late.

A fiery blaze heads straight for him, straight for his face. It’s beginning to sizzle against his ears, he can feel it coming. But he doesn’t react in time, trying to defend himself from too many things at once. 

The blast, coming from his own father’s hand, hits him.

His mask begins to spark, edges curling into themselves as slowly, Y/n feels the right side of his face being revealed. 

His hand meets the wall, holding him up as he recovers from the impact. They haven’t seen him yet. 

He hears Steve’s heavy breathing from behind him, something so familiar it almost tricks his mind. Then, Tony’s voice.

“It only takes a few hits, huh? If I knew that’s all it took I wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

More sarcasm, Y/n almost laughs.

“Who are you.” Natasha doesn’t even make it sound like a question, her voice strong and firm. 

Silence ensues, just for a moment, Y/n’s head is swimming. 

Yet, over all the thoughts and noise, one thing screams loudest over the rest. 

“Do. It.”

“Don’t you recognize me?” Y/n’s voice, no longer protected by a filter, is raspy and hoarse. He slowly turns around, head peaking out of the shadows.

“You know me already…”

.

.

Holy shit.

A loud clang echoes through the now dead silent room, the red white and silver shield rolling across the floor. 

“…Y/n?” 

Tony’s helmet folds into itself, revealing a sweaty face with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 

A bitter smile is what he receives.

“Dad.”

Tony looks around, dumbfounded. 

“I-“ he stutters, nearly speechless, “what- what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Y/n steps forward, voice dry yet dripping with venom. 

Tony chokes, “being an absolute moron, that’s what-“

Y/n barks out a rough, quick laugh. “Ooh, rough.” He rasps. Steve steps forward, putting a hand onto Tony’s shoulder and pulling him back. It’s like a warning, silent communication because next, he’s the one to step forward.

“Y/n…” the words die on the tip of his tongue, throat running dry, but he still tries, “what- I mean, why?”

Y/n has begun to pace slightly, taking slow steps around the shocked group. He peels the mask away from his face.

“Yknow, most people tend to turn to the worst of their options when in a dark time,” he says smoothly, feeling each and every set of eyes watching while he walks. Hulk watches through blurred vision, completely disoriented. 

“I mean, hate to give you the classic origin story and everything, but…” 

“Hold on,” the thoughts are almost visible, loud and heavy in Tony’s head, “is this about something I did?”

So he’s finally getting it.

“What could Tony have possibly done?” Asks Natasha, and Y/n looks at his father directly.

“You don’t care, ok, that’s what-“ his voice is breathy, and he scowls, “You can’t even talk to your own kid, Stark. It’s like you don’t realize what I am, to you- what you are to me!” Anger rises with each word that shoots like poison from Y/n’s mouth. 

Tony gets defensive, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true, I know damn well you’re my kid-“

“Oh really? Cause you seem to have it a bit mixed up.” Y/n’s eyes flicker to Peter’s frame, and everyone tenses.

“Is…is this about Peter?”

At the mention of his name, Peter tears off his mask, a concerned, heavy look on his face. 

“I, Y/n it’s not like that-“ he tries, only to be interrupted.

“Yknow,” Y/n’s voice sounds so pained, “I always thought maybe you aren’t too upfront with your affection. For years, ok, I would wake up, go to school, come back, and go to bed all without saying more than a few words to you. Years, dad.” A lump is forming in his throat, but it’s too late to turn back now. “But then, out of nowhere, someone else comes into the picture and suddenly you’re taking him to lunch, you’re picking him up from school, basically spending way more time with him, than with me.”

Bold, bitter, and wavering- Y/n doesn’t stop. Even as his father, his classmate, the people he’d grown up with thinking were like family, just watch with feeling burning in their eyes. 

“Y/n,”

“You made it look so easy with him.”

“Hey, kid, c’mon-“

“Are you serious?!” Y/n yells in disbelief. “Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong? Is that it? I’m just exaggerating, or what-“

Tony straightens his posture, swallowing hard. 

Y/n’s face almost crumbles from the way his fathers face wavers. But he just doesn’t stop. 

“You can be the greatest hero in the world,” Y/n breathes, sweat sparkling around the frame of his face, “you can put on a face for the interviews, and train Peter to perfection,” a step closer, “but don’t forget that I’ve always been here too.” 

Y/n’s voice sounds so dark, unfamiliar and breaking, it’s gone raspy from the pounding drum of his heart beat. 

Ringing silence once more. 6 melting souls standing in the waste of their own troubles. 

Y/n feels budding tears threatening to spill.

“And now look what we’ve done.” 

[agentmaxa]

Show and Tell - Uswnt/Woso Master List

LAST UPDATED: July 27, 2023

TEAM

- I Never Knew - Very angsty there is a warning before the fic of all the things in there

- No Warnings - Fluff, bullying included

- She's been corrupted! (Part 1, Part 2) - Fluff for both

- New to this - Being overwhelmed by Social media, autism-hate(?)

- Late to the Game - Fluff

KRASHLYN

- I’m Back - Mentions of being in military via bad dream and introduction at the beginning, fluff otherwise

- Meet Your Sister (Part 1, Part 2) - pt2 has hinted self-deprecation, fluff otherwise

- Running Home (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4) - a.b.o fic - Separation-anxiety, insomnia, and anorexic

- I Dare You - a.b.o fic ? - Dealing with homophobia, brief classism mentioned if Alpha and Omega count

- Short-Fuse - bad refs, fluff otherwise

- Blankie! - Child!R, fluff

- Love is the best medicine - Fluff

- Oh, Really? - Very suggestive smut (?) Fluff otherwise

- Quality Time - Bad communication, mentions of possible cheating, fluff ending

- Snuggles - Fluff

- Scary Man! - Fluff

- Not As Bad As It Looks - Blood mentioned, homophobia and slur mentioned.

TOBIN HEATH

- The Chill Isn’t Working - Fluff

- No One Likes Being Hurt - bad communication, mentions of soccer injury, fluff ending

- Stars Colliding - Fluff

- Paint My Love - Vandalism(?), escaping arrest, and suggestive end

CHRISTEN PRESS

- It’s You and Me - Fluff with angst sprinkled throughout

- Ride or Die (Part 1, Part 2) - Fluff

- Baby Fever - Fluff

ALEX MORGAN

- Not Made Of Stone (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4) - Pt1 is fluff, Pt2 has mentions of young character death, Pt3 and 4 are fluff

ROSE LAVELLE

- What is happening?! - Fluff

BECKY SAUERBRUNN

- The Red Skull - Fluff with small suggestive bit in middle

ALYSSA NAEHER

- No, My Fiancée - Mentions of concussions, fluff

KRISTIE MEWIS

- Amuse Me - Fluff

JULIE JOHNSTON/ERTZ

- Loki did what?! - Fluff

JESSIE FLEMING

- Once Rivals (Spy AU) - Torture, blood, and brief character death

If you want me to write one for your favorite player(s) just go to my blog and type it into the ask me or message me. No guarantees though. I also do AUs so please include that if you want.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Secret Affairs

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: implied smut at the end

Summary: You and Loki have. secret relationship but maybe it's time to come clean to his parents, especially when his mother keeps interrupting you two.

Squares Filled: "unfortunately, i'm turned on by that." (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Loki’s hand runs up and down your legs which sends shivers up and down your spine. If his hands aren’t turning you on, it’s his lips on your skin. You want nothing more than to grind down on him but anyone can walk inside his room and catch you, and then you’ll really be in deep shit.

Loki moves his lips from your mouth down to your neck while still keeping you on top of him, and you close your eyes in pleasure. His cock grows from underneath you and you pull away from him with a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t go there. Your mom might come in.”

“Let her.”

He pulls you back to him and kisses your neck.

“Baby, I wish but sneaking around is just too much fun.”

It’s hard to pull away from him completely but you get off him. He watches you walk into the bathroom butt-ass naked to take a shower that’s long overdue. You take a very quick shower and put on one of Loki’s shirts that happens to be lying in the bathroom. The shirt is big enough to cover your ass but short enough to show the bottom of your cheeks. You leave the bathroom while drying your hair, and Loki groans from the bed.

“What?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“And?” you chuckle.

“Unfortunately, I’m turned on by that.”

You know you shouldn’t be doing this but you climb into bed and straddle his waist once more. He grips your thighs to keep you there but you don’t plan on going anywhere that isn’t in his bed. You lean down and kiss him, and he moves his hands from your thighs to your clothed nipples. He grips both of them between his fingers and tugs, making them stand to attention.

“Loki? You awake?”

His mother knocks on the door and you jump off him in a panic. No one knows you and Loki are dating. In fact, everyone believes you two hate each other. Your family and his have bad blood so if your parents knew you were dating a royal from Asgar, they’d have your head.

You scramble underneath his bed just as Frigga comes in. Loki shifts on the bed and moves the covers so she doesn’t suspect his boner. He has to hide his smirk at your behavior.

“I have invited the Y/L/N’s to dinner.” She walks over to his window and draws the curtains open to let in natural light. “Do me a favor and be nice to Y/N. I think she has a crush on you.”

Frigga doesn’t care who her sons date as long as they are happy. While she and Odin have issues with your parents, that doesn’t mean Loki has to have issues with you.

“Really?” Loki smirks. “I had no idea.”

This motherfucker.

“Of course, you don’t,” she sighs and walks to his bedroom door. “Get ready. They’re coming as soon as it’s dusk.”

When she closes the door behind her, Loki busts out laughing.

“Shut up,” you grumble and hit the underside of his bed. You crawl out from underneath it and stand over him. “You’re an ass, you know that?” You crawl into bed and lay beside him underneath the covers. “It’s filthy underneath there. I’m not hiding there anymore. We’re telling your mother.”

Loki continues to smirk and gets on top of you, moving the covers so it’s not bunched around you two.

“Later. Right now, I’m hungry. I haven’t had my snack yet.”

He slides underneath the covers so that he’s hidden from view, and you chuckle at his crude words. However, that chuckle turns into a strangled moan when his tongue touches your clit.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pretty Petals 25

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: I am like in dread of work so here it is lolll

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

Zinnia’s screams haunt your prison. That’s what it is. Not a cabin. Not a house. Not even a fortress. No, you are all trapped here. 

Her first night there is shrill and horrifying and endless. Not just for her but all of you. The rare night spent alone but only knowing that she suffers for it. None of you are so foolish to think these men would show pity for her inexperience.

You hear Azalea through the wall, sobbing. A few times, you find yourself awash in a flow of grief. Swollen eyes succumb to drowsiness and you wade through the night in painful sleep, waking now and again to the throbbing ache behind your brow.

The last time you rouse, you’re not alone. The weight in the bed next to your grumbles and shoves you back down as you try to sit up. Ransom rolls over as you lay flat on your back. He tweaks your nipple through the thin layer of your camisole and pats your chest.

“Good girl, Lily,” he closes his eyes and is just as quickly snoring again.

Is it starting all over again? Back to the basics. You and Ransom. You hate to admit it even in your head but his return is almost comforting. You know what to expect when it’s just the two of you.

You don’t sleep again. You can’t. You just lay staring up at the ceiling, watching the morning slowly spread across the plaster. It’s a startling calm that undermines your reality starkly. A reminder that this tiny corner of the world is forgotten and hopeless in a vast world that keeps turning.

You shift onto your side and hide your face in the pillow. You keep your back to Ransom as you rattle with suppressed sobs. It would be so much easier if you could just stop thinking.

You sniffle and try to tamp down your tears. You miss your apartment. After how long of cursing that cramped box, of wanting to be anywhere else, you would kill just to see your ratty couch again. Just to sleep on your lumpy futon or stare into your scant fridge. 

Freedom isn’t what you thought it was. Freedom is waking up to an alarm every day and going to a job you hate so you can make a few dimes of your own. Freedom is parsing out that measly check in a desperate struggle to survive. Freedom is that sliver of choice you get in doing so. It’s surviving, all the same, but on your own terms. Not on theirs.

You want to give up, so badly. You should. It only hurts to fight but you won’t. You can’t. Dahlia is right. You can still have that freedom, in that you can choose your end.

You wipe clean your face and sigh. You glance over at Ransom and carefully fold back the blanket from over you. You sit up, jostling as little as you can as you shimmy out of your camisole and panties. 

You ease yourself back on your elbow and turn onto your side. Your reach beneath the crumple edge of the duvet and feel around blindly. You wrap your fingers around his dick. He’s soft but not for long as you stroke him slowly, fondling his limpness until he’s hard and groaning.

“Lily pad…” Ransom breathes and pets your temple, “what–”

You hush him as you drag your hand up his stomach. You plant your palm on his chest and lift yourself up. You shove the blanket away from his body and hook your leg over him. You reach beneath yourself and angle his tip along your cunt. You straddle him, inching onto him as you let out a hum.

He’s stunned by his awakening. In that moment, you have power. You have something you can use. You sink to your limit and moan, twitching around him as your nails dig into his firm muscle. His hands crawl up and down your sides as he admires your body.

He shudders and lets out shallow breaths as you rock. You feel the tension knot in his stomach as you trail down. You sense the vulnerability in that moment. You see yourself smashing his jaw in with your fist or bringing your hands to his throat and squeezing until he’s gagging.

You resist that fatal urge and buck fast, the noise of your bodies clapping in the early morning hue. The bed shakes as you huff out your effort, closing your eyes as you cling to the vision of your liberation. The fantasy of violence driving you onward.

Too soon, you know it. Wait, watch, calculate. Don’t strike too soon. Not alone.

“Lily,” Ransom frames your hips as he pulls you down harder and harder, “fuck, what are you–”

“Shhh,” you smother his mouth and fuck him harder, leaning over him as you flick your lashes open, “I missed you.”

He watches you as you hover over him. You poke your fingers between his lips and delve into his mouth. He bites on your knuckles as you keep your hips tilting. He babbles around them as he quakes beneath you. Almost there.

“You going to cum inside me,” you hold back your disgust at the words, “hmm, I want you too–”

He gurgles and his eyes roll back as he spasms. You feel the heat burst inside of you and push yourself up. You lean back and ride out his climax. You stop only as he’s breathless and prone. Then. You could do it then. You could hurt him. You could murder him.

You sit paralysed, horrified at what you’ve done and what you think of doing. They made you a monster too. They’ve filled you with a rage that will never leave you. You will never escape the fractures they’ve rented into you. You can never fix yourself but you don’t care about that. You only want to break them.

💐

The morning brightens through the curtains, rousing Ransom as he sits up with an effort not to disturb you. His caution is uncharacteristic and confounding. You’re already awake but you don’t let him know. You just watch his back as he rubs his eyes and combs his fingers back through his hair.

He yawns and stands, his naked ass greeting you unceremoniously. You squeeze your eyes shut and listen to him move around the room. A low growl in his throat but no words. He dresses in silence and to your surprise, does not try to touch you. He leaves you confounded, hidden beneath your eyelids as you try to figure out what ploy is at hand.

You stay buried in dread, waiting. For his return. For some disturbance from outside; for screams, for thumps, for the eruption of chaos that comes every day. It doesn’t come. You only hear the deliberate movement of bodies trying not to be heard.

You get up and near the door. You grasp the handle and turn it, slowly, easing it around until the mechanism stops. You’re locked in. Fuck. It’s not a surprise but you want to know what’s going on out there.

You lean against the door, cupping your ear with your hand as you try to hear. Who is it? How many? What are they up to? It’s just a shuffle that you can’t make sense of, capped by the final and jarring snap of the front door. You can tell which it is by the weight of it, by the subtle creak of wood beneath several pairs of feet.

You retreat back to bed and sit, thinking. Ransom’s scent lingers along with the dread. They must be plotting something new. Another chase, another game, another humiliation. There’s a new girl so that means you all must suffer. That’s how it works. Their fun is your punishment.

You go into the bathroom and crank on the tub. It’s a small relief amidst the oppression of this place. You ease into the water and recline against the porcelain. There is no sense in letting them taint what little time you’re afforded to yourself. Those tiny moments when you can try to retrieve your sanity.

You think of the night before. You feel weak as the heat of the water seeps into you but there remains that sliver of anger, fueled by the memory of Dahlia’s words. Of the fury laced in her voice. You can’t do this for yourself but when you think of the other girls, you find it hard to admit defeat.

You don’t emerge until the water is cold. You pull the stopper and go through the usual. The routine that’s become second nature. To keep yourself moisturised and pretty for these tormentors. It brings a sardonic chuckle to your throat. You do it nonetheless, there is something soothing in the simple tasks.

You put on a white dress; a simple short baby doll. You go to the window and look out at the back deck, the pool sparkling in the morning light. Leaves sway above reflecting in the water and birds flit from branch to branch.

The soft click of the lock beneath your door handle jolts you. You turn to face the door as it opens and you repress a tide of fury as Hela smiles at you. She’s back in a flowing caftan, patterned with geometrical bands and edged with a crochet scallop. She looks ridiculous.

“Breakfast is served, Lily Flower,” she declares, “won’t you come join us?”

You don’t say a word. You come forward but she doesn’t move from your path. She watches you with a placid smile.

“Lily, do you forget all I’ve taught you already?” She challenges.

“No, Gaia, I am coming,” you assure her flatly. “I remember… I remember it all.”

She looks down at you and her lips curl further. She hums into a laugh, “you are still my favourite. I always knew you were the prettiest of my flowers.”

You try not to show your distaste. She is condescending. You see it now. Those nights you sat at your computer in those nonsense seminars, she was conditioning you, all of you.

She leans in and you fight not to recoil. She tilts your chin up with her long fingers and kisses your lips. You let her and she parts with a sultry breath.

“So sweet,” she whispers and gives a final stroke to your cheek.

She spins, her caftan fluttering and leads you through to the dining room. You take your seat among the several other girls already arranged around the long table. Azalea stares dead ahead, Zinnia’s head hangs low behind her hands, and Violet traces her fingertips over the table as if drawing a picture.

The others are brought in, one by one; Dahlia claims the seat beside you, Marigold emerges with her black hair in tangles, wearing the same outfit as days ago, Daisy enters without expression or reaction, and Rose looks around with an almost cloudy look in her eyes.

Hela floats in and out. She sets a dish of fruit before each of you, along with a cup of greek yogurt, and some yellowish tea with a pungent smell. You all just sit without reaction, glancing at each other in uncertainty.

“Please, dig in, girls, we have a day planned for all of us. We will take yoga on the deck. You recall our first days. And we will have some trust building activities. This is about rejuvenation. As the season comes to an end, we must all welcome new beginnings–”

“What?” Dahlia growls.

Azalea pops her head up, “is it… fall?”

Violet glances out the sliding doors, “the night comes earlier…”

There’s a lull as you all realise it’s been so long since your arrival. So long that you hadn’t noticed the changes all around you. You can smell it in the air, the slow transition is coming, you see it in the sky.

You exhale and peek over at Dahlia. She looks back at you from the corner of her eye as she picks up the bamboo spoon and examines it. A new safeguard. Can’t do much damage with that. She scoops up the yogurt as the other girls languish in their dissonance.

“I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” Dahlia declares.

You grab your spoon and mirror her, the other girls doing the same, going around the table until you’re all choking down the flavourless yogurt in a silent accord. You will play along. The season is not the only change coming.

💐

A day passes, then two. With no hint of the men. It’s strange but ominous. Almost as if knowing the men are around is comforting. Then at least, you know what to expect.

You have another morning yoga session, on your color-coded mats, by the pool. Each of you follow Hela’s direction; making the moves, taking each breath long and low. After, you laze around the pool in a communal daze.

You’re unnerved by the languidity that’s settled over the house. It echoes those early days when this was only a retreat, when it was fun, when it felt like summer camp. When you still wore your own name.

There’s something coming. There has to be. 

Dahlia lays beneath a pair of square sunglasses, as black as her string bikini. Her muscles shine with sweat as the sun kisses her skin. You see the strength corded around her petite frame.

Hela looms not far away, on one of the longers as she has Violet sit near her. They speak in hushed tones. Each of you has your turn, beckoned to ingratiate yourself to the mighty Gaia. You roll over and put your chin in your hand.

Your eyes settle on Zinnia. She sits alone, heading hanging, hugging her knees. You can’t imagine how alone she must feel. The rest of you came here together, you went through each step with a sense of camaraderie, but she was introduced to you all as another set of abusers. Your guilt bubbles over and you stand, leaving Dahlia by herself.

You near Zinnia, almost shyly, and stop before her. She doesn’t look up, she only cowers in your shadow. 

“Can I sit?” You ask.

She doesn’t answer, just shrugs. You lower yourself across from her and cross your legs. You don’t know what to say, you just felt like you had to come over.

“I’m Lily.”

She sniffs and picks her thumbnail. You take a breath and glance over. Hela watches you. You don’t doubt she’ll be curious but what else are you supposed to do? You’re all just sitting around, waiting.

“I know I can’t apologise because what happened happened. I’d hate all of us too. I could point out that we’re just the same but that won’t change how you feel. I’m not trying to absolve myself. I’m just trying to say you’re not alone so… if you ever need anything, I can do my best and I can speak for the rest that they will too.”

She blinks at the ground then slowly raises her head. She meets your eye and you wince. Her cheek ticks and her eyes gleam.

“I remember you,” she murmurs, “in the meetings. We were in the same breakout group.”

Your lips part and you gape at her. She is familiar. Oh, god. She’s just another dupe.

“Corrine,” you remember and she nods, her tears flowing out. “It’s a beautiful name but you can’t use it here.”

She gulps and wipes her cheeks, “I know. He told me—” she turns her head away, “he taught me my name.”

You shake your head and aver your eyes in turn. You don’t know what to do or say. She puts her legs down and leans forward, touching your arm gently, “I’m not mad at any of you. I’m scared.”

“We all are,” you assure her, “and you do need to be mad. At them. The men.”

[gyll-yee-haw]

*mischevious laugh while i rub my hands together* what about detective loki x reader where he's veeery jealous and possessive and reader "teases" him about a specific guy he hates (not intentionally), maybe she just talk to him in a way that loki considers too friendly and then he end up railing the shit out of her to make her know who she belongs to (maybe with some choking while he says "you're mine"...some breeding kink omg im weak asf

Requesting the real requests here baby 🥵

Sorry it took so long, had to make it extra special for my fave bf <3

Warnings: jealous and very possessive and dom!David, mention of gun use (doesn't happen and it's not around the reader!), choking, so much dirty talk, breeding kink :)

Like 2.3k words

---

It was one of those rare days David didn't have much to do at the station and was actually leaving when his shift ended. Since you were out in the city, you told him you would meet him at the station and you could go home together.

Walking in, you greeted some familiar faces, who were used to have you around, waiting for your boyfriend. You sat on a chair and started scrolling through social media, just killing time, not really paying attention to anything.

"Hey." You heard a male voice greeting you. It was Detective Miller, someone you always ran into at the station.

You learned to like him, cause he always calmed you down whenever David was too deep on a case and just disappeared. He didn't mind when you called or showed up, begging him for news. David didn't like him very much, though. He said Miller was annoying and a little laid back. You just laughed, knowing David was the one who worked too hard.

"Hi." You smiled at him.

"Here to report a crime? Did your boyfriend disappear again?" He smirked.

"No." You laughed. Then you saw David approaching. "He's right there, actually."

"Hey." Dave greeted you, ignoring the other man's presence.

You stood up from your chair, to give him a hug.

"Hi. Are you finished for today?" You asked with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go now." He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer, basically forcing you to turn away from his colleague, guiding you towards the door.

Your brows furrowed and you let out a little "ouch" that you knew he heard. He didn't do anything about it, though, just kept walking you to the car.

You got in and he just drove. David was silent the whole time. He was never one to speak much, but there were other small signs that indicated he was mad. Like the way his hands gripped the wheel. During those times, you were always afraid to say the wrong thing and make it all worse, so you chose to be silent too.

At least until you walked into the house. You didn't like to see him like that in there... you couldn't do anything about all the horrible things he saw on the streets and at the station, but your home was his safe place. Where the two of you laughed like the world was peaceful, cuddled like there was no other place to be. He was different at home. He wasn't that pile of stress in front of you, he was your Dave. And that's why you needed to talk to him, do anything to get him out of that state.

"Babe, you wanna talk about your day?" You offered.

He shrugged, taking off his belt, putting his gun and everything away safely.

Your heart fell. He didn't usually treat you so indifferently, no matter what happened at work... no matter how stressed he was, he would never take it out on you. That's when you started to overthink. Well... maybe he was mad at you? Maybe he didn't like your visits at his work place... maybe he didn't really want to see you right now and you were forcing him to? You were annoying him...

"I'm sorry." You murmured.

"What?" He finally turned his attention to you.

"I'm sorry." You repeated, a little louder.

"I heard you." He mocked. "But I'm not convinced."

"I..." You stuttered. You didn't even know what to say. Was he trying to humiliate you just for showing up at the station? You weren't sure anymore.

"Nothing to say now?" He asked, arms crossed, looking at you. "Cause you seemed so talkative earlier with Miller."

Oh. He was jealous? You felt relief wash over you and couldn't hold back your laughter. But as soon as you saw the way he was looking at you, it suddenly became a lot less funny.

"I just..." You realized you would have to explain yourself, and there was something thrilling about it. "I was just being nice."

"Yeah? You decided to be nice to everyone but me?" He questioned.

"Dave, what are you talking about? When was I not nice to you?"

"When you decided to disobey me." He closed his eyes and if you weren't sure where this would end before, now you were. "I don't wanna see you talking to that asshole again, do you understand?"

"Why?" You asked with your sweetest, most innocent voice, and had to bite back a smirk. "He's always so nice to me."

He left out a sigh. You didn't have to be so difficult when he was already so pissed. When he approached, you stood very still. He stopped behind you, one hand delicately placed on your waist in contrast to the other, that grabbed a fistful of your hair. He didn't pull it yet, just left it there, as a warning.

"Yeah, I bet he's so nice to you." He rolled his eyes, breathing on your neck. "Did you know that the other day I almost lost my job? You know why?"

You shook your head slowly, as far as his grip on your hair allowed you to.

"I was having a fucking shitty day and I heard him talking about you. About what a pretty little thing you are." He said, placing kisses on your neck between his phrases. "And how I was so stupid for staying away for so long, cause someone might... have to take my place."

His own words made him angry again. He finally pulled your hair, bringing your body as close as possible to his.

"And it took all of me to not grab my gun right there and then." He rested his chin on your shoulder, speaking close to your ear. "But then... I just remembered that I was the one who was coming home to you that night. And the next one. And always, because you're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes." I whispered, since he was close enough to hear it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."

"Oh you didn't know?" He released your hair and you felt relieved for a moment. "Then I guess I'll have to teach you a fucking lesson. On your knees, now."

You obeyed immediately, getting on your knees in front of him, in the middle of the living room. You just knew that the less you acted up, the more generous he would be after. The quicker the anger would go away.

"Good fucking girl." His hand went to your chin, forcing you to look up as he shoved two fingers inside your mouth, and you welcomed them, licking in circular motions. "You know what? Think that asshole is right. I'm so stupid."

You frowned confusingly, never stopping sucking his fingers.

"Yeah, I'm stupid for letting him get into my head when I just know I can get you on your knees for me. He can't imagine the things you do for me, like the good little slut you are." He shoved his fingers deeper into your mouth, making you gag a little.

With his other hand, he got rid of his belt and started unbuttoning his pants. Then he removed his fingers from your mouth and you enjoyed the break to breathe, because something indicated that would be the last time you'd be able to do that for a while.

He pushed his pants and underwear down enough to remove his hard cock, giving it a few strokes. Your mouth watered at the mere sight of it.

"Open up, put that mouth to better use than fucking disrespecting me." He said, eyes as dark as they could possibly be.

Again, you wouldn't dare to not do as you were told that night. You allowed him to push his cock inside your mouth a little more gently then you expected him too. But once you fully adapted to it, he began thrusting fast. Hand behind your head, keeping you still for him to use. His moans loud and incoherent.

Then he slowed down, and eventually stopped, removing his cock from your mouth and giving it a few strokes in front of your face. He wasn't going to cum just yet, you knew it was going to be a long night. The thing is that he was pissed. And he just fucked your mouth a little to get to see the tears forming in your eyes, you on your knees... absolutely submitting to him. He wanted to remind himself that he could get you like that, eager to serve him. But he didn't really enjoy being so rough on his princess' pretty face, he knew she could get hurt. With her pussy, though, it was a different story. He could be merciless. And that's exactly what he needed right now.

"On the couch, ass in the air for me." He demanded.

You thought you were in for a long and humiliating spanking session. But he just didn't feel like wasting time that night... and also... he wasn't exactly mad at you, he was just making sure you knew who you belonged to. So all he did was push your panties aside and run his fingers through your folds, making sure you were wet enough.

David was so scary when he was mad, but it was all about these little details... he checked the entire time for any signs that you weren't having fun or that he could hurt you. He would never forgive himself if he did hurt you, even a little bit.

And he was delighted to find that you were soaked, so he could carry on, shoving his cock inside you at once.

"Fuck..." he grunted as you moaned loudly, both in pain from being so brutally stretched out and from the pleasure of finally having him inside you. "You gonna let me mark you as mine, huh? Pussy so tight, squeezing me so good, gonna fuck you until it's the exact shape on my cock, so you won't be able to take anyone but me."

"Dave!" You cried out as he trusted deep and so fast. "Don't want... don't want anyone but you..."

"Good. Cause you're fucking mine." He said, hand wrapping tightly around your throat. "You. Are. Fucking. Mine. Did you hear me?"

"FUCK, YES!" You moaned, feeling like his words were bringing you closer and closer to your release. "I'm yours, Dave, all yours... fuck me, fuck me so good..."

"Yeah? So good, pretty baby?" His movements never lost intensity, but started to lose rythm, indicating he was getting close too. "You know what? Wanna get you fucking pregnant so everyone knows you're always filled with my cum, that I give you everything you fucking need..."

All you could do was scream his name. He had never said anything half that dirty to you before. You were pretty sure not even David knew he had a breeding kink... it was the last thing you would expect from him.

"Dave! Can I please cum, please please please..." you just kept begging, even though your voice was muffled as he pushed your head to the sofa.

"Yes, baby, you're such a good girl, of course you can..." he used a sweet tone that didn't match the loud sounds of his skin collapsing with yours so hard. "Do it, do it now, baby, fuck..."

God, the way you screamed, unable to control your legs, unable to stay still, forcing him to use more strength than he would like to keep your hips under his control, just so he could keep hitting that spot you liked...

God, the way you came so hard, screaming that you belonged entirely to him.

"Fuck, gonna fill you up, my sweet girl..." he said as he felt closer to the edge. "Gonna fucking cum..."

He shoved his cock so fucking deep and gave you every single last angry drop of cum he had. And he kept himself burried that deep as he tried to catch his breath. You were absolutely unable to move, just laying there, feeling absolutely brainwashed as all you could think about was belonging to him.

You left out a whine that almost broke his heart as he removed his cock from you.

"Shhh... I know, baby." He stroked your hair gently. "I'll be right back, okay?"

You weren't strong enough to answer. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and left. Time didn't feel real, but he probably didn't take more than a minute to come back, bringing you a glass of water. He sat on the sofa and helped you sit on his lap to drink it.

"Are you okay, baby?" He asked as he scanned your body for bruises or any sign of stress.

"Yeah, feeling great." You smiled at him, earning a smile back. "Dave... why didn't you tell me about the things you heard that day?"

"I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, I guess." He shrugged. "Besides... it doesn't matter, only you and I know about us... I don't care what he thinks."

"Yeah, but you felt uncomfortable. You should have talked to me about it... next time that piece of shit tries to talk to me, I'm gonna kick him in the balls." You put on your most dangerous expression. One that always made David laugh. "And before you say I'm going to jail: no I won't, I know someone."

"You do?" He chuckled.

"Yeah. Someone who's as mine as I'm his." You leaned closer to his face, lips barely brushing his.

"Glad you know that." He sealed the agreement with a passionate kiss.