#reblogging for the last sentence dear god

[notsoattractivearenti]

1+1 = 4 (Mason Mount x Fem!Reader)

WC: 3.0K

Warnings: mention of c-section, post-surgery recovery

A/N: i haven’t written anything since last month and i’ve missed writing so here it is... dad!Mason for me and y'all my loves 🥰🫶🏻 apologies if this isn’t so good lol tbh i wrote this for my own comfort cuz it's been an extremely rough few weeks so i kinda needed this and i’m a huge sucker for my faves as attentive partner and dad fics! not to mention this is officially the longest fic I've written + posted here! hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any grammatical errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

You just woke up from a short nap after your C-section. Your baby was not supposed to be born for another month, but when your doctor saw the umbilical cord was wrapped around their neck during ultrasound, they told you and Mason that an emergency C-section had to be done the next day before your baby moved to the birth position. You recalled the day it happened.

—

You were really scared and nervous even though you have given birth before – but your first pregnancy and labor went smoothly so you didn’t exactly anticipate this. Plus, you had never gone through any major surgery your whole life ­– you just were not ready at all. You wanted another vaginal delivery but since the circumstances changed, you didn’t have a choice and all you cared about was your little one coming into the world safe and sound.

Mason was scared too, but he tried to conceal it from you. He just knew he had to be by your side all the time, as you were about to go through another life-changing moment but not as you planned. He was worried about the baby but even more about you ­– he felt so helpless because he basically couldn’t do anything but be there for you. If he could, he would make himself be the one who bears the pain instead of you.

On the way home after the checkup, you sat in the passenger seat and just silently stared at the road with your hand resting on top of your belly – subconsciously rubbing it sometimes – while thinking about the sudden news. Mason noticed how quiet you were, and as he drove he grabbed your hand to hold it tight.

“My dear, everything will be okay,” he said softly, “little peanut will be just fine. So will you.”

You sighed. “Maybe you’re right, but Mase...” Your voice was shaky, “I’m terrified. I really am...”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you, then kissed your hand and rubbed it with his thumbs repeatedly.

“I know, Y/N. But you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known and you’re going to get through this like the badass you are.” He assured you.

“And I will be with you the entire time and take care of you. I promise.” He added.

You smiled a little, still nervous but way less than before. You knew he was also worried yet he still gave you the comfort you needed. That is one of the things about Mason that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“Also, picture how excited Gem will be when she finds out she’s going to meet her baby sibling soon!”

Before Mason even finished his sentence, the possible scenario was already playing in your head. You looked back to the time you and Mason broke the news to Gemma, your 4 year-old daughter – she screamed then cried out of happiness. She has been so excited to have a little sister or brother since and kept asking when will the baby be born. You could clearly imagine how she would react this time.

“Oh God,” you put your hand on your forehead and jokingly groaned, “she’s going to scream her ass off again isn’t she?”

He shook his head playfully and laughed. “Well that’s my daughter alright!”

—

During the surgery, Mason was sitting next to you the whole time, not wanting to let go of your hand. You were fully conscious since you had regional anesthesia, and to distract yourself from your anxious thoughts you and Mason chatted about the most random things – and it helped calming you down.

You both decided not to find out about your baby’s sex just like when you were pregnant with Gemma. Of course you two were curious, but you wanted to surprise yourselves. A boy or a girl, it doesn't really matter because you will love the baby regardless of the sex.

Suddenly, you both heard the sound of your baby’s cry. The doctor lifted them up so you two could see and excitedly announced, “Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

You and Mason had your mouths wide open and looked at each other immediately once you knew you had another daughter. She came to join your little family sooner than expected, but she was healthy and all your worry was gone in an instant. Mason kissed your forehead and your lips, then whispered to your ears, “Thank you baby, I’m so proud of you.”

The nurse then brought the baby to you so you could see her up close. She put her next to your face, and you could feel tears of happiness streaming down your face – the presence of your newborn girl warmed your heart.

“Hi baby girl,” you tearfully greeted your daughter, “welcome to the world! Mommy loves you so much.”

Mason watched that moment and he was left speechless. He couldn’t stop smiling and crying as he couldn’t find the words to describe the overwhelming joy and immense love he felt at the moment. He was still processing the fact that he had another girl to love for the rest of his life. As he wiped his tears, he quietly whimpered in awe, “she’s so precious… My little peanut.”

—

As you woke up from your nap post surgery, you could feel the anesthesia started to wear off. You moaned and pressed your lips together over the pain you felt on the incision area. You couldn’t really get up because when you tried to move even a little bit, it would hurt so bad. You looked around the hospital room you were in and you saw Mason sitting on the sofa near the window while holding your newborn daughter.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her even for a second, you could tell he was so in love. This reminded you of the day when Gemma was just born – once he held her in his arms, his eyes were locked on her.

You couldn’t stop staring at him as you found this moment so heartwarming and adorable. He then took a quick look at you and when he saw you were awake, a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Oh look, Mommy’s awake,” he said as he got off the sofa to come over to you, “how are you feeling sweetheart?”

“Uh… pain...” You muttered. “But don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“Oh no… I’m sorry, Y/N.” He knitted his eyebrows, the tone of his voice showed how worried he really was. “Tell me what I can do to help ease it. I’ll do anything to make you feel better.”

You smiled as his hand was stroking your arm.

“Thank you love,” you said to Mason, “but let’s just wait for the nurse. With you two here with me right now I can handle this pain.”

“By the way… Can you stop hogging my baby and hand her over to her mom?” You jokingly asked him.

“Oops, sorry!” He laughed while gently putting her on your side.

—

Few hours later, the nurse suggested you get out of bed and try walking around for a bit. Even though you were still experiencing discomfort, you gladly took her suggestion as you didn’t like laying in the bed for too long. Mason, who wasn’t fond of the idea, expressed his concern to the nurse.

“Ma’am, are you sure it’s okay? The wound on my wife’s stomach is still fresh… Isn’t it too soon?”

“Sir, I get your concern and I can guarantee you it is necessary as it is a part of the recovery. Moving around after the surgery helps the recovery process. Don’t need to worry, we’ll check in on you every so often. If you need anything, you can call us by pushing the button next to the bed.” The nurse explained to both of you in a calm manner.

Mason sighed in relief and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said to the nurse, “this is my first time going through a C-section and my husband and I have been very anxious about it. Not to mention this was unplanned so we didn’t exactly come prepared.”

“Understandable. It is normal to feel nervous, Ma’am. We are happy to help.” The nurse acknowledged your worries.

As soon as the nurse left the room, you tried to get out of bed and grimaced while one of your hands was on your wound area. Mason was getting you a glass of water when he saw you – fright was written all over his face immediately.

“Baby!” He spontaneously yelled as he rushed over to your side and helped you. out.

“Ssshh, Mase, I’m alright,” you put your arm around his neck and tried to soothe him, “just want to get up, that's all.”

“Don’t be so stubborn!” He was shaking a little – he felt a genuine fear. “My God, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh please, don’t be a drama queen,” you couldn’t help but make fun of his reaction. “I said I’m alright, hahaha!”

He playfully rolled his eyes in response. You laughed at him and suddenly felt stabbing pain on your wound.

“Ouch!” You shouted. “Man, I can't even laugh without feeling pain!”

“Well, I’m glad you were amused but I guess no more comedy for a while for you, Mrs. Mount.” he said as he stroked your back.

Mason gently supported your body and carefully assisted you on taking your first steps post surgery. You squeezed your eyes, ground your teeth and winced as you were still experiencing the sharp pain – especially when you moved. Mason’s heart ached seeing you struggling like this, he felt guilty even but he knew nothing else he could do but support you throughout the recovery.

“Don’t rush it, sweetheart. It hasn’t been 12 hours after the surgery,” he emphasized. “Just take one little step at the time when you’re ready, okay?”

—

“Baby, Gem is coming here with my parents!” He excitedly shouted from across the room.

Your eyes widened and a squeal left your mouth when you heard that Gemma was coming. As you were in the hospital, Mason’s parents were taking care of her. You have been looking forward to the moment when your girls finally met. She had been impatiently waiting to be able to hold her baby sibling – she even practiced with her doll all the time. 

At this point you could stand up, walk, and sit down. The incision still hurt and discomfort came and went all the time but the painkiller was working well and the bliss of having a newborn was able to distract your mind from the pain. Mason had been so attentive to you and always ready to help you. He thought you needed a day to rest, therefore with your permission he respectfully asked everyone – except your parents and siblings – not to pay a visit at the hospital and wait until you all settled at your home instead. 

“Where is Gem now? Is she close? Are they here already?” You eagerly asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “I’ll call my mum.”

And before he even pressed call, Debbie texted him to let him know they just arrived at the hospital. He was beaming when he saw the text, and passed the news to you.

“They’re here! I’ll go get them,” he said as he kissed your forehead and got out to pick them up.

Trying not to hurt yourself, you didn’t act too excited on the outside but you sure were within. Sitting down on your bed, you pulled the baby crib closer and carefully picked her up.

“Hey little angel,” you whispered softly into her tiny ear, “you’re about to meet your big sister. She’s been waiting for you… You’re going to love her as much as she loves you.”

She made a slight smile and you noticed that. You chuckled, you thought it was like she was also excited to meet Gemma. You gave little kisses all over her cute face, and as you did that you could feel how you were completely filled with great love and glee – one more girl has stolen your heart. 

Suddenly, you heard the door was opened, followed by a little giggle you love so much. Your heart was beating really fast – it was going to be one of the biggest moments in your life – you didn’t know if you could handle your emotions when it happened.

You saw Gemma walking in with one hand holding her dad’s and the other covering her mouth. She looked so eager to finally see her baby sibling – she didn’t know it was a girl beforehand – and you wanted to see how she reacted when she found out she had a sister. Behind them were Debbie and Tony, and Debbie had already started recording with Mason’s phone. Gemma then saw you and excitedly yelled, “Mommy!”

You giggled and waved at her in response. 

“Do you want to sit next to Mommy and baby peanut, Gem?” Mason gently asked her.

“Yes Daddy! I want to see my baby peanut now!” She responded impatiently.

Mason picked her up and sat her down next to you. When she saw her sister up close, she squealed and said “Wow, baby peanut is so small and cute!”

You introduced your firstborn to your newborn.

“Gemma, meet Iris…”

She gasped and looked at both you and Mason in disbelief.

“You have a sister, Gem!” Mason cheered.

Gemma was so happy to have a sister and she started to cry. You might have pictured this beautiful moment in your head before but what really happened was a lot better than you had imagined. It was quite overwhelming to see how emotional she was and you eventually cried as well. Mason was really touched, almost shed a tear when he saw how you and Gemma were crying. He immediately grabbed some tissues from his pocket – he was aware this was going to happen – to wipe the tears off his girls’ faces.

“Mommy… Can I hold Iris?” Gemma nervously asked, her big brown eyes were still watery but you could see the sparkles of joy in them.

“Of course, sweetie.”

You carefully handed Iris onto Gemma’s lap, teaching her how to support Iris’ little body. She was so gentle and cautious, uneasy at first as if she was afraid to hurt Iris. Mason tried to ease her since he got how nervous Gemma was – he kissed the top of her head over and over again while assuring her that she was doing fine holding her sister – and it worked out even though it took a while.

Finally feeling comfortable, Gemma gently let go of one of her hands and started caressing Iris’ cheeks. Her eyes were locked in just like his dad earlier, and you just knew she was so deeply in love with her little sister. 

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she, Gem?” Mason was beaming in awe and Gemma nodded in agreement.

Both Gemma and Mason showered Iris with kisses. The immense amount of love Iris was getting made your heart soar. You looked at your husband and your girls and thought to yourself: how did I get so lucky?

Mason then gave you a quick but passionate kiss on your lips. He looked deeply into your eyes and expressed his gratitude and appreciation for you.

“Y/N, the way you had to bear the pain to bring me two amazing kids to our life is unbelievable. You are the most incredible woman and I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, for us… I’m so lucky to have you as my wife and the mother of our girls. I will always try to make you happy, feel loved and give you everything you need and deserve because you have given me the life I’ve always dreamed of…”

You had no words and were about to cry again. You pulled him closer and pressed your lips against his – it was a moment full of tenderness and sweet affection. As your lips parted, you two whispered “I love you” to one another.

Debbie – who was still recording – and Tony were also emotional although they were trying to keep themselves together because they thought they didn’t want to ruin the beautiful moment between your little family. You then asked the grandparents to come see the newest addition to the Mount family.

“Iris Mount… Such a beautiful name, Y/N!” Tony complimented.

“That’s perfect for her! Thank you, Y/N, for giving us wonderful grandkids!” Debbie chimed in and gave you a hug.

“Uh, Mum… I contributed too, you know. Why don’t I get a thank-you? ” Mason jokingly protested.

“Yes but you weren’t the one who carried them for months and gave birth, were you?” Debbie lightheartedly replied.

You chuckled at their banter – you held yourself back from laughing as usual because it would hurt you.

With his mother clearly winning the argument, Mason humorously backed out, pouted then stated his closing statement.

“That’s true. But Y/N and I do make the most beautiful babies.”

Debbie and Tony couldn’t help but laugh at his comeback.

—

Yes, he might not be the one who was pregnant and given birth, but he has always been an amazing and present father to Gemma. No matter how tight his schedule could be, he would always make time for her daughter. He might have missed a few milestones that happened unexpectedly but other than those he never wanted to miss out so much on his daughter’s life. When he was out of town for away games, he always asked for daily updates on Gemma and called you on Facetime in every chance he got.

Mason is an ultimate girl dad and takes great pride in it. He would dress up as princess wearing a tiara and Gemma’s little dress that barely fits him and have a tea party with her, buy a makeup set she asked for, and sometimes he would show up at training wearing a headband with the biggest bow on his head because Gemma put it on him before he left. He always said he loves being a girl dad and would do it all over again – now he really gets to do it all over again…

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem

[sidekick-hero]

WIP Whatever

Okay, so life (especially work) is riding my ass hard. And not in the fun way. Reading, writing, fandom all has to take a backseat and it might be some time before I can dive in back fully. But I'm trying because this is fun and I love this community - so thank you to everyone for tagging me, commenting on my fics, sending me messages and generally making me feel appreciated 💜💜💜

I was tagged by @eriquin, @augustjustice, @tangerinesteve, @hbyrde36, @klausinamarink and @steviewashere - MWAH MWAH MWAH

The Rules:

In a reblog (or a new post w/ rules attached) post up to five (5) file names of your wips. Not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

The WIPS:

One Night

coming home for christmas

dear future self

It's only those three for now because I wanna focus on steddie week and these are the only entries I have written something for so far. God knows if I'll be able to finish anything in time.

Taglist and Snippet from dear future self below the cut:

He is jolted out of his thoughts when Steve throws the comic he was reading at Eddie's head, cursing loudly. "What the fuck?"

"Ouch! What the hell was that for?"

Steve glares at him, then at the obviously offensive comic he'd been reading, Daredevil #181. Eddie is really invested in the Matt Murdock story, so when he unwrapped Steve's gift and found three Daredevil comics and a black and red guitar pick that looked metal as hell, the butterflies in Eddie's stomach had started to flutter in earnest for the first time. Steve is invested in the story too, even if he won't admit it. His current reaction tells Eddie all he needs to know.

"This," Steve hisses, pointing at the comic, "is fucking bullshit. You can't just let the Kingpin kill Elektra!"

"Hey! I haven't read it yet, asshole. Thanks for ruining the whole story." Eddie sulks, and it's even about 80 percent sincere, because damn it, he was looking forward to reading this and see where the story goes. Now it seems like a waste of time because he won’t be able to enjoy any of it knowing it’ll end so tragically.

It seems like Steve can tell that Eddie is really bummed about this because he scoots over to the edge of the bed and looks down at Eddie with his best puppy dog eyes, his voice soft and sincere when he tells Eddie he's sorry. Eddie can see the flecks of gold and green swirling in Steve's eyes this close, and he feels his anger float away on a cloud of helpless adoration. He wants to hold onto it, chew Steve out, make fun of him, or even use it as an excuse to get on the bed and wrestle with him, just to feel Steve's body against his.

Steve keeps looking at him, waiting for Eddie to say something, to do something, and maybe he can. Maybe Eddie can jump up and tackle Steve, pinning him to the bed with his body. Maybe he can put his hands on Steve, tickle him, feel all that exposed skin under his greedy fingertips.

Maybe...

But no. He can't. He's not Frodo, willing to risk it all on the slim chance that it might work out.

Tagging: @pearynice, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @runninriot, @starryeyedjanai, @steddieas-shegoes

plus everybody who tagged me (@eriquin, @augustjustice, @tangerinesteve, @hbyrde36, @klausinamarink

and @steviewashere)

[rexc0re]

I second guess the game I play, Did I make a mistake?

Summary: Rgbtrio but brothers!!! It’s November 4th. Ranboos birthday, and his exploring loving brothers Sneeg and Charlie have taken them to explore an abandoned mall. Sadly, our hero and his brothers don’t exactly get their happy ending.

A/N: There are so many goddamn words in this and i don’t know if they make sense my bad. Also do not expect grammatically correct writing. anyways reblogs and notes are appreciated!!! :3 ((please let me know if there are any warnings i should add))

Warnings: Angst, GORE ANALYSIS/descriptions of an injury that includes: blood, teeth, brain injury?, choking, and extreme heat?

“Anddd you’re sure this is perfectly legal.” “Nope! Absolutely not. This is perfectly illegal.” Ranboo sighed as Sneeg continued to press his hands against the locked door. “I think it’ll be fun! Maybe we’ll find a spooky demon oooo” Charlie, the middle child who is always enthusiastic, said whilst wiggling his eyebrows at his younger brother. Ranboo rolled his eyes and called out, “Do you got that door open yet?? It’s cold man and I wanna get home for cake.” A loud crash was heard and Charlie and Ranboo turned to see Sneeg holding a brick infront of the crushed door.

“Did you just…” “Don’t question my ways Ran. You gotta live a little you’re 19 now time is gonna start wasting you if you keep wasting it.” “Yeah yeah well if we set off an alarm and the police come or something im going to place the blame on both of you.” A loud and dramatic gasp came from Charlie beside him. “You’d never!!! You’ve got too much love in your big heart to leave behind your dear older brothers.” “Mhm mhm sure, c’mon let’s go explore your big mall.”

The mall was large, cold, and empty. Not the exciting abandoned mall Ranboo was expecting. “This is what you two dragged me here for?? There’s like…nothing here.” “Calm your horses Ran we’re not even past this main hall.” Sneeg replied, a little further up ahead than Charlie and Ranboo.

As they walked Ranboo couldn’t help but notice the random things that seemed…out of place. You’d think an abandoned mall littered with boxes and random fake looking prop toys would seem normal. But it didn’t.

“This place is really off, do either of you notice that?” “You’re paranoid Ran, you’re goody-two-shoes mentality is making you feel that way.” Charlie said with a smirk.

Walking deeper and deeper into the mall past various empty stores with names that seemed quite odd, Ranboo couldn’t help but notice the emptiness of the whole place. No left over advertisements, no painted walls, no colors. Just white. And various grays. Besides the food court. The food court was pretty cool.

“Well would you look at that, that sign says your name Charlie!” “Did you bring us here on RANBOOS birthday to show him a sign of MY name?? Wow Sneeg so disrespectful.” Charlie replied whilst holding Ranboo like he was comforting them. “No you dick head and you know that. We came here last week.” Charlie shrugged with a smirk and continued to walk.

“So…is there something specific you want to show me or are we just here to walk around?” Neither Charlie of Sneeg replied and all Ranboo could do was glare at them. Opening his mouth to speak again, the sentence he was about to say died in his mouth as he saw what was behind Charlie and Sneeg.

“Ohhh my god?” Brushing past them Ranboo walked towards the railing, his face in awe. There was a large, and looming sign in the middle of the mall. Ranboo recognized it from seeing it plastered on the walls. The logo. The logo that was spray painted on walls in sloppy red paint. The logo that was left on every window of every store.

They hadn’t pointed it out but he’d noticed it from the moment they stepped into mall. It was odd. Something about it lured him in, like it was controlling him or something.

“Soooo….pretty cool right? Me and Sneeg thought you’d like it since you’ve always liked the strange and unusual.” “C’mon Charlie look at him clearly he likes it.” Sneeg and Charlie watched their younger brother gaze around the mall with big dopey smiles on their faces.

“You know, I think you two really out did yourselves this year-“ Ranboo was cut off by a large crash followed by a low and…mechanical? roar. The three stared at each other in a sort of shock. Charlie was the first to break their silence, turning to Sneeg with an awkward chuckle “So uh. What the fuck was that Sneeg. We didn’t find anything that sounded or even looked like a fucking robot monster!!!”

“No need to yell in my ear Charlie. Relax relax it’s probably…just some other people who broke in.” “Okay cool. Sure yea okay. Can we go now though.” “Rans right let’s leave Sneeg cmon let’s go.” Charlie sped walked past the two, his head swiveling side to side. “Well he’s freaked huh? Cmon Ran let’s go.”

Ranboo took one last long glance at the large poster. Something about it told him that there wasn’t someone else who broke in and maybe there really was a monster out to get them. But nevermind that, this is just a mall. An empty, sad, mall. It can’t hurt him, or his brothers. They’re leaving.

—

“What do you think audience? Should we let him live in these shows for an eternity? Or end this one with a BANG!”

A bang…what did a ‘bang’ mean. He was tied to a wall. No way out. The horrors of the past two days still not over it seems. They were right there…at the exit. What happened? How did he get here at all in the first place. What is this place. Who brought him to this mall. They needed to get out. Now. And figure it out. Figure out who he was. Where he belonged. Because it certainly isn’t here.

“Please just let me go. I don’t wanna continue. So what happened to those people what…happened..”

“Do you remember, Ranboo?”

Oh.

He did remember.

Every last bit of it.

Everyone who he had met these past three days. He knew them. He knew those people. They were real and nice people. The only other people he had in this hell hole. Niki, Ethan, Austin, Vinny…oh.

Sneeg and Charlie.

The two he had known the longest. Charlie was the first person he met. Ranboo always had a feeling there was something special about Charlie. Sneeg too. But he never quite placed it. Until now.

It was all flooding back. Everything about his brothers. Sneeg and Charlie. His brothers. The people he grew up with. The memory of them smiling at him when they first entered the mall. They were so happy for him. It was his birthday, he was 19. They each still had so much left to live for. So much life they were supposed to experience together.

Those two meant so much to him, they practically raised him. Sneeg the eldest who was a pretty bad influence. Dragging his brothers to random old buildings he found, prank wars, and was a lil bit of a tease. And then Charlie. The balance between Sneegs chaotic and Ranboos more ‘stay-in-line’ personalities. The less of a bad influence. Charlie often endulged with Sneeg. But sometimes he took Ranboos side. He was the middle ground between his two brothers.

Oh…they truly meant the world to him. The sorrow and immediate shame came rushing towards Ranboo. His brothers were right there by his side the whole time. And he didn’t know. He did nothing to stop what happened to them.

They died.

Charlie was gone.

He saw it happen. And did nothing.

He wanted to hope Sneeg was alright.

But deep down in his heart he knew Sneeg was gone too.

The only family he ever had. They were gone. He saw it happen. And did nothing to stop it.

“…Someone will find you. Someone will get you for this.”

“Any last words Ranboo to swing the audience one way or another?”

“LET ME DIE. PLEASE. JUST LET ME DIE. I DONT WANNA KEEP DOING THIS. I DONT WANNA KEEP…DOING THIS. JUST LET ME DIE. PLEASE.”

“Just let me go…I can’t live with this. I saw, everything. I saw everything. Please let me go. Let me die.”

“Well it seems the audience has made their decision. The audience has voted for you to DIE!”

Ranboos breathe hitched. Die? He was going to die.

Thank god.

The box closed.

Heat.

All he could feel was heat. God it felt like he was roasting alive. He was choking on his own blood. His teeth felt like they weren’t there. Their vision was gone. Their body shaking uncontrollably. So. So. So. Much blood. They couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything but accept it.

I’m bleeding out.

I’m bleeding out.

I’m bleeding out.

It’s almost over.

The shock was too much. He passed out. The pain was terrible. The absolutely most excruciating thing he’s ever felt. But it was almost over. In his last moments of brain activity, all Ranboo could think about was Sneeg and Charlie.

Charlie died thinking he got out.

Sneeg probably didn’t know either Charlie or Ranboos fates as they didn’t know his.

In their last moments, they were separated. The three brothers who were always around each other.

A trio, in life.

But not in death.

The last coherent thought Ranboo had amongst all the pain he felt physically and mentally, was sorrowful. Simple. But, an apology.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get us out. I didn’t mean to leave you behind.

[athymelyreply]

I'm sorry you're not feeling well!! Bringing you some soup and tea and a hug 🫂

Tell me about the Gawain and the Green Knight AU, I'm dying to know 👀

OMG OMG SO

There’s sooo many ways a green knight au could go. Obviously Hob is Gawain in this au and it could go one of a few ways

I’ll finish one version here and reblog this post with the others

also thank you so much you really are the best and the soup, tea,and opportunity to be insane about this au means the world to me. <3

fist: hobletheros+dreamling

hob is at the knightly Christmas party or whatever, destruction comes in and hobs knees go weak because “oh my god I want him to rail me” when the game is proposed Hob does the whole thing with destruction’s decapitation and is conflicted about it but then, as with the og story destruction picks up his head and tells him that he’ll see Hob next year. He leaves with a wink and Hob covered in destructions blood and thinks he might be a little in love (the boy falls fast).

a year goes by and he sets out on his pilgrimage to the green knights home. Our dear Hob is exhilarated and terrified and all around conflicted. He’ll get to see destruction again but in the same breath it’s his death sentence. Hob loves life, but if he must perish, he thinks maybe death at the hand of the green knight isn’t the worst way to go, maybe he’ll even get a kiss before he’s dead. his journey takes him to the castle of a man named Oletheros and his wife. The man is oddly reminiscent of the knight from the party, however Hob writes it off as him just feeling something for both the knight and this man. the lord of the castle makes the same deal as the original story: Hob may have whatever lord oletheros catches while hunting, on the condition that Hob give him anything he receives during the day. hob accepts. The wife tries to seduce Hob, telling him she wants him desperately. For extra fun the wife is fem! Dream. She’s dark and alluring and Hob can’t help but be drawn to her, but he knows it would be wrong to disrespect his host in that way, restraining his desire and instead accepting only one single kiss from dream (and oh her lips are so sweet, tasting of white wine and stars and the feeling of flying)

when lord oletheros returns with a deer, Hob gives him a kiss in return, finding himself falling into the lord’s mouth, a kiss with the feel of oak and passion and campfire. The lord welcomes his lips, pulls him into the kiss. Hob pulls himself away with a gasp and tries to continue on, doing his best not to look shaken.

the next day Hob allows himself 2 kisses from dream, both to taste the lord’s mouth and hers but one more time. Selfish he knows, but he is a hedonistic creature, and if these are to be his last few days alive, let them be good ones. Lord oletheros returns with a boar this time. Kisses are traded and Hob feels as if he’s drowning with nowhere to turn. He cannot break hospitality but gods with dream staring like that from under her eyelashes, and oletheros’s rough hands on him he feels as if he might go insane. the last day dream approaches him with a look that has Hob burning for her. Three kisses. It’s so good he could cry. And he does, telling her that he goes to his death on the morrow, and he has no choice but to leave. Dream brings a green sash, saying it will keep him from harm, and not to tell her husband about it, so he wont need to give it to him. the lord returns yet again bearing a fox this time. Kisses exchanged and Hob feels all tied up in knots, awaiting his death at the hands of that strange and handsome knight, and readying himself to leave behind the lord and his wife, both of which he feels he could love, maybe already does, but he cannot admit that just to leave them the next day. he bids them goodbye the next morning, taking the sash and hoping against hope that it will protect him and he can return to them. In the clearing with the green knight he kneels and presents his neck, but when the knight raises his axe Hob flinches. He still wishes to live. The knight scolds Hob for his cowardice in that incredible voice of his and so Hob steels himself, picturing the the faces of the lord, the knight, and the lady. If he should die it will be with love. He prepares for the blade to fall and

A gentle tap at the back of his neck. Only a small trickle of blood. then he feels a hand reach to help him stand. Destruction helps him to his feet and caresses hob’s cheek, lifting the little knights eyes to meet his. He speaks gently, saying that “that’s it, darling, that’s all there is. Come now, we really must fix that cut of yours.” He bandages the nick on Hob’s neck, explaining that his name is destruction, and he was lord oletheros. He tells Hob what a darling boy he is, what a good little knight, he soothes him. And Dream emerges from the trees, takes Hob’s teary face in his hands and kisses him. then they both get to soft dom the shit out of him and Hob gets to cry with relief and joy.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

Writeblr Re-Intro version 3!

Hello I'm doing this again because there are new wips. Also new pronouns and a new name (mostly new name, I suppose)

I'm Copper or Julius or dragon or what else you wish to call me, and my pronouns are he/they. I'm queer and neurodivergent and I really, really lik I'me dragons. My main is @copper-dragon-in-disguise, so any likes/reblogs/other assorted interactions will come from there.

Here's my wips, all of them are in the same world unless otherwise stated. Title (with a link to its wip intro if there is one), then draft number in parentheses, then its main tag in the second parentheses with the description/blurb/weirdly ominous sentences below that!

Main WIPs:

Frost & Fire (draft 2) (#wip: frost & fire):

The death of an ancient primordial dragon brings the greatest (if not particularly well known) adventurers of the last centuries together. Enna Helder-Kromlin, half-elf thief and contractor for the crown of Halmond, along with her sister, Anne, leader of the thieves guild Oleski. Anastrannia & Redari Galendel, half-dragon, half-elf siblings, one a shadow ranger and one a shadow sorcerer. They must work together, if not get along, to stop a evil dragon named Dizerdrat from trying to claim the power released by the death for himself, because if he does he could conquer the world—and would.

One of Copper (needs a re intro so no link yet but there will be) (draft 1) (title may change) (#wip: one of copper):

Decades after the events of Frost & Fire, a new age of heroes is ready to start adventuring. Only these heroes weren't exactly willing, nor were they ready. Four envelopes later and they're together, tracking down the weapon of a god and facing off against enemies none of them could fathom three months before.

Silence and Secondhand Souls (draft 0) (#wip: silence and secondhand souls):

Fate is an interesting thing. Some doubt it even exists. Not me. Not anymore. Souls don't rest until they've told their story, and I've got a long way to go yet. My friends are dead and so am I, haunting a narrative I never got a choice in. How exactly did that happen, you ask? Let me start at the beginning. Or the end, rather. I died when I was 21 years old.

There are my other wips + things that are not technically wips but have tags below the cut for length reasons

Other Wips:

Angel's Daughters (Draft ?) (#wip: angel's daughters):

A prequel to Frost & Fire that's about Enna's backstory, based on the DnD campaign I originally played her in.

Starr's Story (draft 1) (this is a placeholder title and will change eventually but i've been saying that for almost a year so...) (#starrs story):

My Camp NaNo April 2022 story. It's about some pirates, a somewhat lost heir to a fallen underwater kingdom (the heir in question being the pirate captain), and an awful lot of secrets.

A Dragon's Apprentice (draft 0) (#wip: a dragon's apprentice):

Another NaNo story, but for the actual November NaNo in 2021 (a challenge which I did not even come close to finishing. Whoops). Also about lost heirs, and by that I mean that the heir got kidnapped and the apprentice wizard had to go and find them with the help of their brother.

Things that are not technically wips but have tags (none of the below are in the same world as the wips above, they all have their own world. mostly.):

Vampire Hunter Steampunk Story (#vampire hunter steampunk story):

Exactly what it says on the tin, except I messed with the rules of what a vampire actually is sooooo *shrugs*. It also may not be entirely steampunk that much. Or at all sometimes. The title is only mildly accurate.

Space story (#space story):

The product of the single time I ventured into sci-fi. The thing I know the most about is that the protagonist is an alien from Pluto. Because I'm me I got sucked down the wormhole of figuring out if she could breathe on earth or how would that work and it was a lot of a wormhole.

Supernatural story (#supernatural story):

Not that supernatural. Dear god no. I would of called it ghost story but that's a different one and besides there aren't any ghosts in this anyway it's vampires and werewolves and one girl who's part fae.

Ghost story (#ghost story):

This one has ghosts in it! May or may not be in the same universe as the above supernatural story, I'm unclear on that.

[starlightsearches]

A New God

Hi.....I have nothing to say about this except it made me lightheaded writing it. I hope my own horniness has not blinded me into thinking this is good if it’s not. Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

Eli Sunday x Female Reader

Minors DNI

3.8K

Warnings: loooooots of talk about religion, sacrilege, PIV sex, mentions of masturbation, virginity loss (m), fingering, reader gets slapped once and not during sex, a brief mention of pain kink, kind of hate-fucking if you squint. Let me know if I've missed anything.

He’s standing in the doorway again.

There’s a summery breeze blowing through the open windows of the new school house, carrying the scent of wildflowers and cedar smoke and the promise of an end to the long and harsh winter. Your students are already jittery with excitement at the idea of a warm afternoon, and once they notice that your attention has been stolen from them, a ripple of laughter flows through the class. It’s not too great a loss; they wouldn’t want to learn anything in the last few minutes anyway. 

“That will be all for today, students. You are dismissed.”

The room is filled with a loud cheer and the scrape of desk legs against the uneven wooden floor, and you try not to smile too widely at their simple expressions of joy. A few shout quick thank yous back in your direction, and a few more greet Eli as they pass him, saying, “hello, Brother Sunday.”

He smiles down at them pleasantly, patting one or two of them on the head as they run by. You cross your arms over your chest, lips pressing into a frown.

Eli is a rather persistent preacher—you’ve only been in town a few weeks, at the request of Mr. Plainview to run the new school house—and Eli and his parish have come knocking at your door almost every day, bearing fresh meat or jars of goat milk. Sometimes he visits with his mother or other members of the church who love to extol his virtues. Mostly he visits alone.

“Hello Mr. Sunday,” you greet him, dusting the chalk from your fingers on your skirt, “what can I do for you?”

“It’s Brother Sunday, please, or Eli,” he corrects, paying no mind when you ignore him.

Eli ambles in from the doorway, a gentle smile on his face and his eyes latched onto yours, hands folded meekly in front of him. He’s a tall man compared to most, and it seems he does everything in his power to appear small and docile, standing before the front row of desks and hunching his shoulders. Something about the innocent little grin he wears sends a shiver up your spine.

“I did not see you at church yesterday,” he says in a quiet voice. The pad of his thumb trails gently over the smooth back of his hand, and his nails are clean—another rarity for Little Boston, “I thought you’d said you’d attend.”  

And you’d thought he’d get the message after five Sundays without your presence. You breathe deeply, reciting the sentence you’d rehearsed for a moment like this one. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sunday. I had other obligations which could not be avoided.”

His smile doesn’t falter. “My dear sister, what obligations could be more important than praising the lord?”

It takes all your restraint to not roll your eyes. You’d list quite a few, if you thought there was even a chance he’d listen. Instead, you turn your attention to the chalkboard, erasing the marks you’d made with a surprising ferocity.

“I’m not sure why my obligations are any of your business, Mr. Sunday.”

The steady sound of Eli’s footsteps grows louder, bringing the walls around you in with every step of his worn but well-shined shoes. You don’t want to look, can’t force yourself to move—not even when you feel him standing right behind you, pressing so close you couldn’t step to either side without brushing up against him. 

He’s so warm, radiating heat like God’s light, letting it bleed through his clothes and forcing you tighter against the blackboard. There’s a shake in your hands as you put down your erasing cloth, his wet breath up against your ear.

“I’m a prophet. Salvation is my business.”

You have to think very hard to keep breathing. His presence has loosened your tongue more than you’d like. “Maybe I don’t believe in prophets.”

 You sound weak, a little lamb mewling for its mother. Still, it makes him pause, his voice damp with fear. “You don’t mean that.”

Your fingers curl into tightly clenched fists, seething with rage. You were so goddamn tired of hearing men tell you what you did and didn’t mean. You whirl around to face him, your anger making your blood run hot.

“Yes, I do,” you find yourself shouting, and more surprisingly, have no desire to stop it, “I don’t believe in prophets, and I don’t believe in God. And you can ruin the rest of the town with your silly fantasies but I—”

You’re stunned into silence when the palm of his hand meets your cheek, thrown to the side more by the shock of the impact than the force behind it. The sting still brings tears to your eyes.

You haven’t recovered before he has his mouth on yours.

He presses his whole, hot body against you, your head slamming back against the blackboard with a dull thud, and he’s got your face in both of his hands, rubbing the soreness from where he’d hit you with rough fingers, his lips fierce and hungry, moving so urgently you feel the scrape of teeth. He kisses you, open-mouthed and wet, skin like hell-fire, and you’re too stunned to move.

He pulls away just as you’re about to lean in. A string of spit is all that connects you to his lips, until you watch it tremble and break. 

“You wicked, wicked girl,” he whispers, but he’s still got your face in his hands.

And then he’s gone.

It’s been two weeks since then. Two weeks since you’d seen Eli Sunday at all—not even walking through town, or visiting on some neighbor’s doorstep. Not tending to the animals outside his home the one or two times you’d had an excuse to pass by. You’d thought, even—although the idea made your stomach twist—about going to the church for his Sunday sermon, just for a chance to see his face. 

It was that damn kiss. You’re still thinking about it—getting flushed and hot every time you look at the chalkboard and remember how it felt to be pressed up against him, going to sleep with the sound of his voice, the words wicked girl repeated in your ear until you can’t think of anything else but the burn between your thighs.

You heave a sigh, sitting at your desk with only an old book for company, eyes on the blackboard. There’s no more tenderness around the place where you’d hit your head, but your fingers travel there anyways, prodding at the skin, hoping for some reminder of how it had felt when he had touched you. 

Because he had touched you. And it had been wonderful.

The sun is just beginning to set just beyond the school house windows, and there’s a heavy pit in your stomach at the thought of walking home alone in the dark. Little Boston is not so modern as your hometown, and there are wild animals about at night—coyotes and mountain lions, and, worst of all, the men from the oil rig, drunk and prowling.

You could have been home long ago, but you’d lingered here all afternoon, glancing at the door every few moments as you swept the floors, turning over your shoulder at each imagined sound as you cleaned the blackboard. It seems your waiting was all in vain. You sigh, standing from the chair and stretching the stiffness from your back, glancing one last time at the door.

And then your knees go weak. He’s there.

“Eli.”

He looks up from his feet at the sound of his name, eyes wide; you’ve never called him Eli before, always Mr. Sunday. You both knew the antagonism behind the title, and without it here between you, you’re left feeling vulnerable and naked.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, stepping across the threshold, ducking his head unnecessarily. He’s dressed like he’s about to give a sermon—wearing a dark vest over a roughspun shirt—unusual for most afternoons, since he still worked his father’s farm when he wasn’t peddling salvation. You wonder what the occasion is, eyes wandering down his long, dark frame. When you look back up, he’s watching you, his cheeks turning pink. 

You both jump to fill the silence, your words running together in a babble of sound and you can hardly understand what he might be saying, until you pause, just catching the end.

“—and when I could not find you at your home I thought I might check here, to make sure you were alright.” 

“You were at my house?” you ask, feeling startled and stupid. You could have left hours ago. 

“Oh, yes—” he’s staring at the hem of your dress, and you know this can’t be what it looks like when he preaches, so shy and penitent, like a child prepared to receive a scolding they know they deserve, “I wanted a chance to speak to you . . . to apologize for my behavior the last time we met.”

He glances up through his lashes, mouth pressed together in a tight line. He thinks you might let him off so easily. You shrug your shoulders instead. “Go on, Mr. Sunday.”

Eli nods. “My conduct towards you was unscrupulous and immoral, and I am deeply sorry” —he hums, weighing the possible regret for whatever he might say next— “and . . . I appreciate your discretion as well.”

That gives you pause. You hadn’t even thought about telling someone. 

Could you have told someone? It might have backfired—had the whole town whispering about you, calling you idolatrous, calling you a whore, calling you evil for corrupting such a holy man—but it might also have brought some shame down upon Eli, sown the seed of doubt in the hearts of a few of his followers. There would have been a mean satisfaction in seeing him disgraced, no longer able to look you or anyone else in the eye, no longer able to stand in front of his congregation and call others to repentance.

And yet you hadn’t said a word.

You step forward, bridging the distance, standing a little closer than you should. Studying him openly, you feel a delightful spark at the way it makes him flounder, his throat trembling as he swallows hard. It’s like his body has no idea how to handle the way it feels to be so near a woman, nowhere to hide the desire he feels inside. If anyone glanced in through the windows right now, there’d be no denying that Brother Sunday has been caught up in a very grievous sin. 

“Why do you want me to join your congregation, Eli?” you ask, hardly whispering in the fading light.

He frowns, confused. 

“B- because I want you to be saved—” and it seems there was a little misstep in his words. His eyes fall closed and he tries again, “I want everyone to be saved.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, inching another half-step closer until the hem of your dress brushes up against his ankles. His heavy breaths fill the shrinking space between you, but do nothing to stop the contact when your chest pillows against his, “but you don’t bring gifts to everyone. You don’t visit the men at the rig everyday, or Mr. Plainview, don’t bring your disciples by to see him nearly as often. Why is that?”

He’s quiet, chin dropped again, and you press one finger underneath it, forcing him to meet your eyes. Just as you suspected, there’s longing in his gaze, and the remnants of his self-control crumbling once again before you.

“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me, Eli?” you ask him softly, and he shudders, hand clenched tight around the edge of a desk, knuckles white like it takes work to keep himself standing, “I am not naive; I know what it means when a man looks at a woman the way you look at me.”

You can feel his breath turn cool against the perspiration that coats your skin, caused by the warm spring night and the fire he’s stoked in you—that same fire you see burning in his own features.

“Please.” He hardly breathes the word. 

“Please what, Eli? Tell me.” 

You’re looking at him just past the tip of your nose. In the half light, his green eyes look almost black, and they’re focused on your lips.

Too many wants, and no way to voice them. 

He kisses you again—like the first time—one hand on your neck and the other cupping the back of your head, skin hot like a brand. The thrill that travels through you is unique, though, because now you get to kiss him back. Pressing your mouth into his more firmly, you stand up on the tips of your toes for better leverage. His whole body trembles when your hand meets his ribs. 

“Please,” he whispers again, and that does sound like a sermon, like a prayer. Like a man in commune with God.

“Tell me what you want, Eli. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” 

“I want—” his voice is high and keening now, “God, I want to touch you.”

Funny enough, that’s what you want, too. 

You stumble back onto the solid wood of your desk, pulling him along after you. Eli falls to his knees before you, a gasp on his lips as you shift the hem of your dress higher and higher until you can feel the gentle breeze against the skin of your calves.

He cups his hands around the backs of both your legs, worshiping palms a little rough as they skate over your skin, and he leans his head against your still-covered knee, eyes wide. There’s an unfamiliar leap in your chest when you watch him press a kiss to the fabric just on the inside of your thigh, his hands trailing higher and higher up your skirt. You’re losing contact with the world around you, feeling far away as he slips the linen you wear under your dress down your thighs.

“I’ve never- I don’t know how to-” his fingers just brush the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt, his lips trembling with unspoken desires. You take his left wrist in your hand, guiding him forward, positioning his fingertips against your soaked entrance.

“Touch me here.”

You grip him tightly as his fingers explore, tracing the outline of your folds, dipping gently into your entrance—thicker than your own, already offering an unfamiliar stretch.  Without any guidance from you, he runs his thumb down through the cleft between your legs, brushing against a particularly tender spot, and a jolt surges through your body.

You cling to him, hand planted against the scruff of his neck. “There, Eli. I need you there.” 

God, he’s so willing to oblige—the lord’s obedient servant, His chosen one—on his knees for you, fingers delving deeper into your wet, tight cunt, thumb rubbing rhythmic circles right where you need it. Sweat drips from his hair pools against your fingers, collects under the hand he uses to keep your thighs parted.

“Is this what you think about,” you ask him, letting your hips shift more fully into his hand in hopes you might mask your own breathlessness, “when you touch yourself, Eli? Do you think about me?”

His jaw is clenched tight, but you know the way his thighs shake. There’s no way for you to ignore the bulge in the black fabric of his trousers, or how his free hand flexes more tightly on your thigh, like he’s resisting the lustful urge to touch himself.

You lean in closer, gripping his face in both your hands so he has to look at you, has to see the way your hair collects against your sweat-stained skin, the way your chest heaves. “I’m sure you do. Not a lot of privacy in your home, with your parents and sisters around. Where do you go when you want to think about me, hmm? The barn? The backwoods? The church?”

He groans, tears pooling in his lower lashes, and your cunt clenches involuntarily at the thought of him bent over the pulpit with his hand down his trousers, sweat dripping onto the pages of the Holy Bible.

Your back bows forward, pulling in closer until your lips just brush his. “If we’re confessing our sins, Eli, you should know I think about you, too.”

He whines, high and keening. “Please,” Eli begs, the movement of his hand haphazard, “I need to be inside you.”

You shake your head, laughing a little, the tender buzzing in your head growing louder with each kiss of his hand against your your folds. “Not yet. Haven’t you heard?—” You pet a hand through his matted hair, pulling a little at the ends. “Patience is a virtue.”

Maybe he sobs, and maybe you’d care if you couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers prodding at your soul. Whatever sound he makes turns quickly into soft, silky laughter, his head lolling against your thigh.

“Oh, you are a wicked girl.”

Yes I am, you want to say, but you can’t. Your lungs have been stoppered by the ravaging heat inside, burned out and filled with smoke as you climb higher and higher to the peak of your pleasure. He must sense it in you; he doubles down on his efforts, holding his fingers in place, spreading them wide inside you and digging the heel of his hand more firmly at the top of your cunt, letting you rut against him like you’re nothing more than an animal. You know now why so many pack into that dark and sweaty church building every Sunday. Being touched by him is a blessing.

Something more potent than the Holy Spirit pours over you; has you crying out in earnest as your ravaged hole spasms—too sensitive for him to pull out just yet. The pleasure runs through you in waves, spreading to the tips of your fingers, curling your toes until your moans subside into whimpers. After a moment, he slips his fingers from between your thighs, panting like he’s the one that’s been overcome.

He’s grabbing at whatever part of you he can reach, warm palm at your neck and your thigh, pulling close until his forehead is pressed against your own.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know that women could—” he stops there, laughing a little, “my God, you are a miracle.”

A miracle. How quickly his attitude has changed, and with so little work from you. Your lips brush against his, eyes open so you can watch his lashes flutter when you deepen the kiss. He tastes like honey, and freshly churned butter, lips trembling when you slide your tongue between them, a lofty breath at the crest of his throat. 

As you work at unfastening his pants, the tremor spreads down to his legs, lunging into his hips when you grip his hardened cock in your hands.

He moans—louder than you’d ever expected—loud enough a sliver of fear blossoms inside you, worried that someone might hear. You press your other palm against his mouth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, stroking him, acclimating him to your touch, and he nods with big, soft eyes. There are tears sliding down his cheeks.

Oh god. There’s an upsetting urge within you, a desire to please him that you would never have expected to feel.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes, god, please,” he’s sobbing again, but quieter now, and you remove your hand fully from his mouth. 

Eli buries his face in the crook of your neck, quieting himself as you slide forward, guiding him towards your slick folds, and you can’t help but tense at the pressure, the thick head of him sending an ache through your center, your fingers knotting in his hair. 

“Are you alright?” The way he says it, the heavy breaths he takes in your ear—it tells you how much control it takes for him to stay still. 

You shift, the meat of your ass sore where it presses against the table, but a delectable kind of sore, like when he’d bruised you against the chalkboard. You think there will be new bruises, on the front of your hips this time, from the way his thumb digs in against you, fighting to brush the bone.

 “You’re- you’re bigger than I expected. We’ll have to go slow.” 

He nods, but his idea of slow and your idea of slow are not even remotely similar. You bite down on your lip when he thrusts forward with an unpracticed shift of his hips, breathing through the sting of the stretch, fists balled tightly in the loose material of his shirt. 

“You can hurt me,” he whispers, tracing his lips up the sweaty tendons of your neck, “if it helps. I don’t mind.”

And it does help, to your surprise, forcing his shirt out of your way, digging your nails into his soft, pale flesh that covers his shoulder blades, marking him red. He shifts forward again, and you silence your own cry, biting into the thick muscle of his shoulder.

You must be wet with desire for him, because the pain fades quickly, a much warmer ache taking its place, and your nails no longer burrow into his skin hard enough to sting, but instead to bring him closer.

His heavy breaths weigh down on your shoulders and he leans back, watches the way he impales you with his stiff cock, cheeks burning with shame. Flushed red, with his eyes turned towards the heavens, he looks like an angel painted by one of the great masters. There’s idolatry in his eyes.

“What god do you worship, Eli?” you ask him, stroking your thumb over the crest of his cheek, gathering his sweat against your skin. He leans in closer, and you know he must want to press his lips against yours, must hope to quiet you with another fierce kiss. You shift just past his reach, ignoring the pain in your tensing core.

“There is only one God,” he admonishes you, “just one. I worship Him.”

He groans at the sound of your laugh, muscles tensing. “That’s funny, because I don’t see Him here. There’s only me, Eli. Who were you on your knees for, just moments ago?”

You can tell the thought has him close, no matter how he tries to deny it. “You- you shouldn’t even suggest such a thing.”

Your hand curls harsh around his jaw, forcing his eyes to meet yours, living for the way your cruelty makes him twitch inside you. “It’s just a question, Brother Sunday. What god do you worship?”

He chases your lips again, and you hold him back. Your own breaths grow louder, crying through clenched teeth with each of his movements, your slick cunt growing warmer with the friction he gives you, at the changed angle, a distinct panic in your chest because he’s going to make you cum again and you want him to.

“Eli.” You should warn him about the hungry pit low in your stomach and the way it grows wider as he presses into you, let him know that something is about to happen, but you don’t have the words to describe it. 

He reaches his own point of desperation, eyes screwed tight. The yearning he feels must overpower his piety because you feel the words he whispers, tongue just brushing the tips of your fingers as he wets his lips.

“It’s you. I worship you.” 

It hits you in the chest, punching the air from you, your soft sigh meshed with his high, keening groan. He pulls from you before the spasms have left, and you feel the warm paint of his spend against your thighs.

The silence between you is sacred.

“My god,” he’s laughing as he breaks it, giggling against the skin of your jaw, pressing wet, open-mouthed along your flushed skin, “my god.” 

And you know it’s not the lord’s name he’s taking in vain. It’s yours.

Tags in case you’re interested: @trelaney, @theold-ultraviolence​

[fuckthisshitimin]

It's not what you feel, it's what you do about it (and what would you do with me?)

a.k.a. dear mutual reblogging geraskier shorts, this is entirely your fault

a.k.a. "Jaskier is sick of the mutual pining bullshit"

It's not as pretty as the last one. Embellishments will come with time: and Jaskier wouldn't want that another way. His instrument just has to sound good, and as money comes the polish can be re-done, the neck can be engraved, the structure marked in golden metal, the body covered, like a woman getting dressed slowly, a morning light, something of an important day to get ready for.

And it is Jaskier's job to tend to this.

It's Jaskier's god-given bard task to care for his lute, to know it by heart, to make it pretty without betraying it.

It's not as pretty as the last one, it's bare and new and it feels young in Jaskier's hands, untouched strings against his hardened fingetips for the first time. For a first meeting, for a birth of sorts, it sure is rude to play chords so heavy, to sing words that burn, butcher, burn, a campfire not so far away.

He plays a tune like an apology, softer, doesn't stop when the weight of Geralt's presence sits across from him, leather and metal and a fondness heavier on Jaskier's chest than any coldness could ever be.

Not a word from the witcher's mouth, of course not a word, barely a low hum that resembles a grunt, and all Jaskier can do is roll his eyes, if only to look away, sigh, if only to remember how to breathe.

A quick laugh, if only to find his voice.

"You're not as good at hiding your thoughts as you think, you know?"

And he licks his lips, and Geralt's attention is warmer than his tongue.

"I'm not?"

"Or - and if you don't know this I will have to be upset about it - I am just that good at reading people. At reading you, especially."

"Are you?"

A sigh, again, "Yes," a swell in his chest because Geralt's face doesn't show his train of thoughts, not really, "I am, of course I am," it doesn't show anything, it's just the flicker of light in his eyes that Jaskier knows to be a sharp attention, the way Geralt looks at things that shifts whenever he senses danger, "what do you take me for?"

Right now, Jaskier is the danger. Oh, what an unpleasant thing to be.

"For example, you hate the word slumber, makes you uneasy, and you find it most charming when Yen does that thing with her mouth that can't really be called a smile, also, you like me more than you care to admit."

"I never said I hated you."

A proper sentence, at least, if an avoidant one. The sharp edge of Geralt's focus, and Jaskier thinks maybe he can hear the stutter under his tiny laughter.

"It's not what I said. And look, I'm respectful, you know? Wouldn't want to invade your privacy or anything."

A quirk of the witcher's brow, a soft "Jaskier." tainted with an invisible smile.

"You know me. All love, all respect, non-intrusive most wanted bard of this world."

A scoff that could resemble his name again. Geralt could make a whole conversation, just saying Jaskier in all the ways he means it. If he wanted to. If he was willing to. That's the rub, is it not?

"So, as a gentleman, I did learn that wanting is not the same as willing, and as your friend, I learnt that want to kiss me, but you will not."

It's almost a gasp, the sharp inhale on Geralt's lips, his eyes on Jaskier's. A smile there, maybe just a bit tense, a bit defeated when Jaskier resolves to go through with this. "Now, I don't mention it, because you do try to hide that, and, as I said, I respect it, and even if I know, you don't want me to, and it is the gentleman thing to not acknowledge it, but."

Jaskier doesn't try, on his part, to hide the tug in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, the fond grief in his eyes, indeed, he catches Geralt's gaze, especially, to show him, and since showing isn't enough, telling will have to do.

"But," he goes on, "since I made it pretty clear that I do want you to kiss me, and that I would kiss you, too, and you didn't... do anything about it, I thought I had to let you know I'll stop."

A frown, a real one. Confusion. "You-"

"I'll stop wanting to kiss you, heard about love potions, yeah? Well, unlove potions are a thing too, not quite legal but Yen can make it, so, yeah, I'll be falling out of love with you tomorrow."

And Yennefer doesn't want to make that potion, but she will. Jaskier tightens his grip on the neck of his lute, his new one, new start. It will not know of the yearning for Geralt's will. It will know songs of requited, friendly love, songs of adventure and untainted joy.

"Years of pining gotta stop, you know, but I'll still be-"

"You said you want to kiss me."

"Yes, damn, were you not listening? Everyone in the kingdoms knows this. So, as I was saying-"

"And you will kiss me."

"Interrupting me again, rude. I am trying to say goodbye to the romance of my life, would you please, please pay attention? Just this once, it's important to me, thank you."

He winces at the sincerity dripping from his voice, and closes his eyes just a second, not because they feel wet, they are just, tired, they are tired because they see too much, nothing to do with an itching in Jaskier's throat, he just can't stand the sight of Geralt. Can't stand the attention. Ironic for a bard. Deep breath in, chose words carefully.

"I-"

"You are-"

"For fuck's sake, Geralt! This is hard, way harder than it looks, okay? Maybe the hardest thing I've ever done, in my entire life, ever, so either you shut me up with a kiss, which you will not, or you just sit in silence, which you are usually very good at, and let me finish, and then I'm out of your unreasonably pretty hair, forev-"

He does.

Shut Jaskier up with a kiss. He would not, he would not, but he did. And it's every bit as warm and smelly and why-is-this-so-good as Jaskier daydreamed, as loving as he yearned, just more desperate, it feels like it might never happen again, and really, it shouldn't even be happening, but if it's just one time, if it's just tonight that Jaskier can kiss Geralt before he falls out of love, he wants to take it all. And he will, if Geralt wills so too.

He will run fingers through Geralt's hair and moan when his lute is taken from his lap and replaced by a warm chest, pushed against him, if it's just tonight, it can't be too much, that he makes a fist of his hands when Geralt's tongue is so demanding, when the witcher's fingers are tight around his ribs, under his jacket. It's a drop of eternity that leaves him gasping for breath, and his throat is tight in the best way and he knows his eyes are gleaming, and he knows Geralt couldn't miss it. Looking at him like that. A taste of want, a finger of resolve, a drop of lust and top it with a dash of true love for the romantics.

"God you're really not one for words."

A frown, again, this pretty confusion searching the answer for a question Geralt could just ask, really, is it so hard? And Jaskier chuckles. Chuckles against another kiss that does not feel like it will be the last. Relishes in the caress of Geralt's lips when his voice is so low, vibrating just between them. "Do I need to be?" or can this be enough?

And it's crazy, the power he has. I'll never talk to him again, he resolved and a pointed look of Geralt, and it disolved, I'll stop wanting him, he wishes, he decides, months of pondering, of ironing his will, and just like that.

Yen might kill him for making her waste dragon eggshell.

"Nah. I mean, might be nice if you shared a bit more what you want, but I got words for both of us, I can extrapolate, and you can-"

A hand pulling his hair, and his moan is muffled immediately but Geralt's mouth, and it feels good, it's almost a shame he has to pull back to laugh. "You do realize you cannot physically kiss me continuously to keep me from talking?"

"I can try."

"Sure. But what would you do if your beloved bard isn't here to guide you to wisdom, hm?"

Lips on his throat, burning, and opening, and it's wet and intoxicating. Fuck, does it have to be so much? "This won't shut me up, still."

"Don't. Do, guide me."

"Oh. Oh. Come back here. Kiss me again."

He does.

"Put your hands on my hips."

He does.

"And since you can't talk to save your life, show me you love me."

He does.

[byorder-fanfic]

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: John

Requested by @apollonshootafar

Preference Masterlist

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, touch aversion, sexual remarks and suggestions, swearing and mentions of injury

Word count: 1608

Author's Note: I'm nearly done with these, just had a bit of a block trying to get this one done. Hopefully you like it and if you do, I absolutely love to hear your comments and I appreciate your reblogs. I think John might be a little OOC here, but I tried. I'm always here to talk if you need it.

(Gif by @peakascum) (and....)

(Gif by @talicat713) (cause that face holding thing john does is the premise of this fic)

John always loved to have his hands on you, his cheeky grin pressed into the side of your neck as he whispered jokes and suggestions to get you giggle. And it wasn't just when the two of you were alone. No, he seemed to become all that more handsy (if it were possible) whenever his family was near. You often said it was as if he were claiming you, showing his possession with each imprint made on the softest parts of your body. Like a bloody dog pissing on his property. He just gave you a shit-eating grin and called you kinky. You rather liked the attention, to be honest. It wasn't as if it were violating or unwanted, even if you've rolled your eyes at his touch more times than you could count. Truth was, he made you feel attractive. Desirable. Good. There never was a time when his hand on your hip made you feel anything but loved or safe. Your big bad Blinder boyfriend who pouted like a wounded pup when you were too busy washing up to hold his hand. John may have made his constant touching seem like a thing of bravado- a masculine need to claim and possess. However, the both of you knew the real reason why the two of you were attached at the hip: John was clingy as hell. When you'd confronted him on that hypothesis, his whole face turned red, right to the tips of his ears. He was stuttering out excuses (it was a damned strange thing to see you smooth-talking lover start choking out sentences) and you swore he was making his voice go lower, trying to gain some fragile sense of masculinity. In the end, you just grabbed his belt loop and pulled him to against the front of your body. You felt all of him relax as soon as he felt the warmth of your skin seep through both of your clothes, the feel of your hand at the bottom of his abdomen and your lips barely an inch from his. His hands immediately wrapped around you, all embarrassment cooling off him in a sigh of relief. "Don't worry, love, it'll be our little secret, ey?" You whispered as you stroked through his hair. After that, John had continued being just as bold as the day you met him when you were in sight of others. As soon as you stepped into the threshold of home, though, he was nigh-on begging for your touch at every available moment. You were used to him teasing you, trying to excite you and get into bed whenever the house was empty. But when you were dishing up dinner, with the grumbling of four hungry kids, the last thing you wanted was John pawing at your busy hands for a touch. His touch had always been a wonderful thing- then it wasn't. You didn't know when the change began, only that your tired muscles didn't ease when his strong arms were wrapped around you, your heart didn't flutter like it used to when he kissed the back of your hand, and you didn't feel so warm when he grabbed your waist at the pub. All you could feel was the uncomfortable imprint of skin, and you didn't know why. You still loved John. God, did you love him. You loved when he smiled at you from across the room, eyes ignoring every other person that as vying for his attention, and landing entirely on you and only you. Maybe you were a bit possessive too. You loved him when he came home from long nights, weary and barely mumbling a good night as he jumped into bed next to you. He snored like a lion and fell asleep quicker than the four kids in the room next door. You loved him when he cam home bloody and beaten. He always at down in a chair whilst you tended to his cuts and bruises, his hands between his knees and head bent like a prayer, and you always presses a kiss to his forehead before he even started to recoil from his position and hold you, his head pressed against your belly. You loved John. But his touch had lately been too much. Of course, you didn't tell him that. You were pretty sure John would die if he wasn't close to you for even ten minutes, he'd die, and you weren't willing to test out that theory. Instead, you gave a little smile when he came up behind you as you washed the dishes and wrapped his arms around your waist. You let him nuzzle his nose into your neck,

letting the discontent be seen only over his shoulder. It made you feel fragile, and stiff. John was asking you more and more, "Is this okay?" and "Can I touch you please?" and each time you perfected the art of saying yes convincingly. Sometimes though you watched him, snoring the house down at night, and whispered the words in the dead of night where not even the monster that lived in Katie's wardrobe could hear: "Help me, John." It was at the Garrison where you spilt over. After a long day, you were looking for a drink with your mates not another chance for John to grasp at you. You were just sat side by side in the snug, laughing at some stupid joke John had made (at the expense of their dear and absent cousin Michael) when you felt it. As soon as he had caught his breath after calling that certain 'big boss' a prick, his hand had landed on your knee. It shocked you at first, as John had been remarkably restrained all night. You thought it was cause of Tommy, who'd given both of you the side eye when you'd walked in, and said he didn't want any funny business. He hadn't touched you till that moment and it made you freeze. It took one flinch of your knee and his hand slipped away, but it didn't slip from sight. You could feel all the eyebrows in the room raising, even John's. "Hey, you and Y/N having a tiff ey, John boy?" Arthur chuckled to himself. You knew you must have made a face comparable to the horrible feeling inside, because as soon as he said it you saw his smile drop into regret. Arthur wasn't really a thinker, so you knew he never meant to say anything. Still, you didn't let him say his apology as you muttered something about being tired and jumped from your seat, walking out of the Garrison so quick you could've swore you were running. "Y/N! LOVE, HEY WAIT!" You heard John scream at you from down the street. Subtlety wasn't his specialty. You turned around, the tears stinging your eyes not quite clouding the clear worry on his face. "What's wrong, hey, love, please-" He stepped forward to hug you but you took a step back, head nodding wildly. The hurt in his face was as painful as if you had smacked him. And you hated yourself for it. "What did I do?" His voice trembled. His voice never fucking trembled. "I'm- I'm so fucking sorry, John, I love you, I swear." You felt every ounce of guilt in you swell up and pour itself into tears. "I don't know what's fucking wrong with me, why I can't just let you freaking touch me!" He moved forward again, arms out in a hug. Then he stopped, realising what he was doing and awkwardly settled his arms back down. "Shit, sorry love, it's just me, you know? I need to touch you." H scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know what it is, John." You said it again. "I love you, though. I love you." "I know," his cockiness had risen from its slumber. "And I love you too. If you don't want me to touch, then I won't." He held up his hands in surrender. "I can control myself." "No you can't," you quipped back, a smirk settling on your lips too. "No, but I will," he admitted. "If it's what you want." You nodded shyly, still feeling far too guilty and far too far away from him. "Here I was thinking I'd hurt you somehow, and all you needed was a bit of space," he sighed, the relief obvious in the little upturns of his mouth. "John, give me your hand," you said, an idea forming. He looked at you with furrowed brows but did so none the less. His hand still had faded bruises on the knuckles, covered up by an abundance of rings, a burn mark from his cigar hidden on the side of his middle finger, and you sought out for the crease on his palm which he swore on your first date meant that he was the best kisser you'd ever had. You didn't think it was palmistry that made that a fact. Gently, you pressed his hand on the side of your face over your hair. It was like a ghost of a touch, but you leaned into the curve of his palm lightly. "This is okay," you told him, John was perfectly still, looking at you with a cautious awe, his hand not daring to move from your assigned spot.

After a moment, he smirked again and got that cheeky look you adored: "So does this no touch thing mean no sex or-" He was cut off by you dropping his hand, rolling your eyes and walking away. "Wait no babe I was only joking!"

[spideyhexx]

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

---------------------------------------------------------

You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

[svchengss]

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

[magpiefngrl]

Fandom Wishes 2022

Thank you @etalice for tagging me! I'm going to call them Wishes too, since my main goal for the year is to lessen the stress of setting goals and signing up for stuff and biting more than I can chew etc etc

I've given some thought to my intentions for the year, life and writing-wise, but here I'm going to focus only on my fannish ones:

Read more, esp longer fics. I’ve said before that I read very little fanfic in 2021; not only that, but rarely did I start anything over 3-4k. Lately, however, I've been in a real mood for lengthier works. I've been tearing through 20-30k fics and am looking forward to the longer ones. There's a lot of fic to catch up on, and although I've got a book TBR list as long as my arm, I'd like to make time to include fanfic in my monthly reading. read a few

Enjoy fandom when I can. I struggled to phrase this but what I mean is this: in the past year or two, I've distanced myself from fandom, which was beneficial for many reasons, but also because it gave me the clarity to examine what I want out of such a community. It can be easy to feel pressured by a need to do more: more reading/writing/interactions/events/fests/commenting/reblogging etc. I'm fully-employed now, unlike before, my circumstances have changed drastically, so all I have time for is to lurk. I look at art, I read some fic, occasionally I might rec something. It's not a lot, but this is all I have time for and this is what makes me happy, so, for the foreseeable future, lurker it is. done

That being said, I do want to finish one fanfic WIP. Which I wanted to do last year too but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I've got a fair few WIPs and of course I'd like to finish all of them but, at the very least, I want to get one done and posted. Just one, dear fandom gods, please. DONE!

Something that occurred to me now and it's not quite fandom-related is this: many years ago, back when I first joined GYWO, I used to post a writing review at the end of the month (how much I'd written, which WIPs I worked on etc). I stopped doing it when I got into a long writing block, but I feel ready to go back to it again. Or maybe something like the Six Sentence Sunday, which was quite motivating in the summer, even though it felt like speaking into the void. Sometimes I avoid sharing lines because the snippet I have is so terrible and I feel embarrassed, but I think it might be a good idea to work through the shame of sharing less-than-good writing. So, I guess, my last intention is to come up with a way to reflect on my writing for the month or share bits of it, as a way to track my progress. still working on that one

Hmmm...who to tag? I think everyone has done it by now. Let's see if @coriesocks @trixietricoter @aibidil and @sixappleseeds feel like doing it? Also, if you haven't been tagged but wish you had: here's me tagging you!

Happy 2022!

[professorrw]

Mistakes, a Loki One-Shot

Warnings: Angst, Smut, attempted murder, mentions of death, enemies-to-lovers

Request: “Can you do a Loki one shot? enemies to lovers troupe? a lot of angst pls -moon”

Word Count: 2195

A/N: I hope this was good! I’ve never written angst so I tried my best! And yeah, Loki doesn’t hate Y/N, it’s more like she hates him in the beginning but I tried. If you have any tips please message me or comment! Reblog and like if you enjoyed!

Loki, God of Mischief. During his attack on New York he managed to kill 80 people. One of them being your mother, your anchor. She had been with you through it all. She supported you no matter what. When you wanted to enlist in the military she let you and when you were discharged she was still there for you. 

When you left the Marines you began to work as a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent. Your current assignment was to watch over Loki, who was being held at the Avengers base. The assignment was perfect. You could finally get revenge on Loki for taking away your only family.

If any of the Avengers found out about your mother’s death they probably wouldn’t let you watch him. And they shouldn’t. When you got the chance, you were going to kill him. It didn’t matter that you might go to jail or get fired. He deserved it, and you were going to serve the justice your mother and all his other victims deserved.

Monday rolled around and you arrived on the base. Loki would be held in a room made of see-through electric walls. Even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to escape. You were in control of the wall. If you wished, the walls could be lowered. Eventually, you would lower them. Not for Loki to leave, but for you to enter.

You sat with your feet lounging on the desk in front of the “cage.” Loki was standing in the middle, watching you. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of speaking to him. Hell, you avoided looking at him. 

Hours passed by silently and you left your post. You had the surveillance cameras hooked up to your phone so you could watch him while you were away. You slipped into bed in the room you were assigned and went to sleep, thinking of your plans.

The next morning was just as uneventful as the previous day. It wasn’t until noon that something happened. Instead of standing in the middle of the room, Loki approached the wall nearest you and spoke, “You seem to disdain me more than your fellow Avengers. I don’t recall ever doing anything to you. I would remember seeing such a beautiful face.”

You ignored his comment and turned your face away from his smirking one. You were told he had a knack for getting under peoples’ skin.

“You want to be silent? Very well. I’ll admire you from a distance then.” He returned to the middle of the room but continued to watch you with a thin-lipped smile. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but wonder if his legs ached from standing so long.

As Loki said, he didn’t bother you for the rest of the week. You kept your mouth shut and tried to avoid his gaze the whole time. There was an incident when you were coming back from getting lunch and happened to glance at him, already looking at you. He seemed to find pleasure in the quick turn of your head when your eyes met. No doubt, just as the other Avengers promised, he was trying to get under your skin. You were used to having people scrutinize your every move, but what Loki was doing felt different. 

To your dismay, when you returned to your desk the following Monday, Loki decided he wanted to bother you.

“It’s terribly lonely in here. Why don’t you join me?” He knew you weren’t going to answer but he still prodded you. “What’s wrong dear? Afraid I bite? I promise it’s only lightly.”

You gave him a cold scowl and returned to the book you were reading.

“You enjoy reading? Do enlighten me on the title,” he asked. Unlike the way he was speaking previously, he seemed genuinely  curious to know. Who knew a god would be interested in books?

Even though you told yourself you wouldn’t utter a word to him, you decided to tell him what you were reading. “Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.”

He responded only with a hum, as if he was thinking it over. You raised your eyebrows, expecting him to say more about your sudden inclination to speak to him. He didn’t say anything else though, and returned to look into your eyes with a searing intensity.

He remained silent for the duration of the day, which bothered you more than his speaking evidently. You had to admit, sitting there for hours was boring but it would be worth it in the end. 

Another week passed before Loki decided to speak again.

“You dislike talking to me and looking at me.” He said it as if it was a fact. Which it was.

“What did I do to you?” He said this with an earnest tone. He genuinely wanted to know. It was eating at him that such a beautiful creature would feel such hatred towards him.

He let out a sharp sigh and decided to give him what he was searching for. “During your little rampage in New York, you killed my mother. I’m sorry if I don’t act friendly,” you spat.

For a second he looked taken aback. Even though it was only a fraction of a second you caught it. Did he not realize the damage he had caused? Surely he wasn’t that thick-skulled, you thought.

“I apologize, I wasn’t aware.”

“Of course you weren’t. You were too busy trying to take over Earth to take into account that you were killing people,” you scoffed. “And don’t act like you’re sorry. I know you aren’t. You can’t begin to understand the pain I felt and still feel.”

“You would be wrong there, dear. My own mother was killed. It was my fault; a foolish mistake.” He muttered the last sentence and you had to strain to hear it, but you did. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of… empathy?

“Well I’m sorry. That doesn’t excuse what you did though.” You were sorry. Not that he deserved to hear your apology.

“I did not dare think it would. You should not feel so alone, dear. I share your emptiness.” His words caught you off guard. He was right. A part of you did feel empty. But you weren’t one to admit that you were aching for someone or something to fill that gap. Your mother was your support system and since she died you were alone. You had friends, but none close enough that you would relay so much person information to. People tried to comfort you but at the time nothing made sense. You were a ball of anger and sadness that never got to let go of your grievances. The feelings inside of you never came to the surface, you carried them with you, just for them to haunt you at night.

You didn’t want to say anything back in fear he was still trying to pick you apart and tear you down. “He’s a villain. He’s done terrible things. He killed your mother,” you kept repeating to yourself. You weren’t about to let Loki make you vulnerable. You had a personal mission to carry out and it would get done. You decided to quit talking to him for now on. You couldn’t start being friendly. You especially couldn’t let yourself be attracted to him. That would be your downfall. Although you did feel empathy towards him, you wouldn’t let anything else happen.

“What am I doing?” you thought as you arrived back in your bedroom around a week later. Your mouth didn’t like to listen to your head. You found yourself talking to Loki when he spoke to you. Talking to him. Answering his questions. You promised yourself you would put an end to him soon. If you didn’t want to fall deeper into the trap that is Loki’s charms, you would have to kill him soon. Things had gone too far already. “He is a terrible man,” you reminded yourself once more.

You laid in bed watching the security cameras for hours. You had to wait until him and all the other people in the building were asleep. It was 2 in the morning and Loki had been asleep for hours. Surely, everyone else had been too.

You stalked through the halls silently as you made your way to the “cell.” Sure enough, Loki was asleep in the small bed, laying on his back to your luck. You quickly lowered the electric wall nearest you and walked into the dark room. You pulled out your knife and steadied yourself. Finally, you could have peace. 

You leaned over his body, trying to avoid looking at his peaceful face as you raised the knife to his neck. But you stopped. Could you really do this? Hasn’t he proven that he isn’t so bad? While talking to him the past week, you learned a lot about him. He openly spoke about his home and filled you in on anything you were curious about. “Shit,” you thought. Surely enough he had lured you into his trap. You couldn’t deny the growing affection you felt for him. It doesn’t matter how small the feeling was. You weren’t going to let yourself do this.

As you were thinking a voice spoke behind you, “Are you trying to kill me dear?”

You snapped your head back and saw Loki standing behind you. When you turned to look at what you had previously thought to be Loki, he wasn’t there. The covers were still pristine and in place. 

“It’s alright, darling. I know you were not going to harm me. I saw your hesitation. Something has developed inside you,” he said.

“That’s not why.”

“Then whatever could change your mind? On that first day I could feel your hatred. It slowly dissipated as time passed. When I first laid eyes on you, I was intrigued. You are a passionate creature, driven by whatever your heart desires. Does your heart… desire me?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his sudden proximity. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his soft breath against your ear.

“Do you desire me… as much as I desire you?”

“I- I can’t… This was a mistake. I came in with a mission and it seems that it won’t be fulfilled.” As soon as you were done talking you turned away from him. Parts of you wanted to stay, but you knew you shouldn’t.

“A mistake? I have made many mistakes but wanting you is not one of them, love.” He looked at you with pure desire and truth in his eyes that your knees nearly went weak. Your mind told you that what you were about to do was betrayal, but you ignored it.

In one movement your body was flush against Loki’s. He placed a hand on your cheek and met you halfway, pressing your lips together. The kiss was filled with many unsaid words. It was an apology, a confession, and a thousand struggles shared between you. 

Your hand moved to tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss, if that was possible. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you against him. You could feel the hardening going on in his pants. He pulled away as if to ask you permission. You took a step backwards and fell onto the bed, laying on your back.

Loki took that as a yes and stripped out of his clothes, leaving you the only one dressed. He climbed on top of you and began to trail kisses from your jaw to your exposed collarbone. You raised your hips to let him pull off your pants and underwear, which were already wet. He chuckled lightly at the sight but continued to undress you, throwing you shirt and bra over his shoulder. Anybody could take a peek at the security cameras and find you two together, naked on his bed.

Loki started slow, teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick before pushing it in the rest of the way. You bit your lip to suppress any noise. He slid in and out of you, picking up the pace as he went. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay quiet. You wanted to moan, say his name, anything to express how he was making you feel.

Loki also seemed to be having trouble staying quiet, breaths ragged with each thrust. He lifted your legs so your ankles were on his shoulders. The thrust he gave after that was enough to make a sound slip from both of you. He groaned and you moaned out his name, “Loki.”

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, coming undone as he gave another hard thrust. They soon became sporadic, some slow and some fast, but none at a steady pace. Just moments after you came, so did he, right into you.

He pulled out and rolled to your side, wrapping an arm around you as you both caught your breath. Whatever worries were troubling you were gone from mind as you laid there, mind focused on the man next to you.

[danniburgh]

A million little times. (Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: You scourged yourself for starting it and then having the audacity of asking for more.

You fell in love, he didn’t love you, yet you were willing to let him ruin you a million little times.

Word count: +5.2k

Warnings: welp this IS Dave York, but somehow came out softer than we’re used to lmao, SMUT SMUT SMUT minors BEGONE, some dirty talk, infidelity (not condoning it), some of reader’s and Dave’s dialogues may get you uncomfortable as they talk about possessiveness and HINTS of doing things against one’s will.

A/N: look guys, i don’t know what came onto me but i wanted two things, to write about our dear suburban murder daddy (because i love him and i love the dave york pit) and write something HEAVILY based on illicit affairs by my dearest ty ty. So here it is, this is more based on the bridge and the chorus of the song because those lines just do stuff to me, hope you like it :)

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 

“I’m going out” you said, zipping up your hoodie, heading for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going? it’s pouring outside,” your roommate questioned from the sofa she was lounging on, looking at you then at the window, she could see a lightning at the distance.

You grabbed your car keys and an umbrella from the small rack you kept by the door, more to make her stop questioning you than to actually use it outside.

“Somewhere” you replied without looking at her.

“Are you gonna see him? again?” she stood up and walked towards you, you rolled your eyes, she knew you too well “I thought you… dumped him”

“I did” you muttered, looking at your running shoes, knowing that if you held her really heavy judging gaze she would pull out the truth from you. You never left him, but you were about to.

“Then why the fuck are you going to see him?” she crossed her arms on her chest and you felt a tug on your stomach and bit your lip “holy shit” she made you look at her by grabbing your chin with her fingers and lifting your face “oh c’mon dude, seriously?”

“I’m gonna break up with him today!” you told her, almost whining.

“There’s nothing to break up!” she dropped her hand and let out an exasperated sigh, you knew she was right “he’s married! he’s older!” 

“Don’t you think I don’t fucking know that?” you spat at her. She rolled her eyes.

“You had tried to end things with that man four times now,” she sounded tired, she wasn’t scolding you anymore, she was trying to remind you “what is he doing to you? Fuck, you’re not like this!” 

You dropped your eyes to the floor again. He was doing so much; he was a lot to take. That man was killing you inside and taking away everything you were, he was eating your soul and you were letting him.

He was incredibly overwhelming, astonishingly overpowering, he suffocated you in the most delicious way; he was exhausting and demanding and knew you thoroughly, inside and out. He was too much and not enough. He was never nearly enough. And that was consuming you.

“You don’t really wanna know,” you said “but I’m gonna end things... today, I promise”

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep,” she murmured, going around you to open the door “I really hope you know what you’re doing”

“I am” you turned around and walked out. She called your name before closing the door.

“Please, be careful” you nodded instantly, not knowing if she knew something else you hadn’t told her or if she was just referring to the terrible weather outside. “good luck,” and she closed the door.

You stood in the hallway for a few seconds. Her last two words were weighing heavily in your mind, and you wondered again if she knew something. She couldn’t, but it wouldn’t be at all surprising. But you were grateful, you needed good luck. With Dave York, you always needed the luck on your side.

--

You parked the car and turned off the ignition. It was already dark, the only light that softly illuminated the inside of the car was the pink and blue led lights of the motel’s signboard, and the thick raindrops hitting the windshield made a gloomy, unsettling symphony that invaded your ears and was starting to drill inside your brain.

You hesitated to send him a text that read im here, but did it anyway, and waited there for his text back as you always did, he would tell you which room you needed to go to and how long you had to wait for him.

Because he always made you wait. He made sure you knew he was the one making time for you in his so full schedule and you had to be available for him at any time, any day he wanted.

You wanted to leave; you were considering just turning back on the ignition, reverse the car out of the parking lot and go back home. 

Were you seriously thinking about standing him up?, you couldn’t do that, not to him. You knew he was capable of driving all the way to your apartment, kick off the door and fuck you senseless as a punishment. 

He was too much and you couldn’t take it, that’s why you wanted it to stop.

Yet you received his text almost right away, he was already waiting for you inside. That made you anxious, because he never did that. 

You got out of the car and ran to the stairs, not minding getting wet as the distance from the parking lot to the covered hallway was not very long. You tried to control your breathing as it hitched when you reached the room with the number 2B on the white door and you failed. 

The door opened before you could even raise your hand to knock, and there he was. In all his clean, broad, stiff glory.

“Hi” was the only thing you could breathe out, his eyes wandered through your body from the running shoes you slipped on when you got his i want to see you text, to the black leggings you were already wearing that he liked too much and your crimson hoodie you grabbed from the laundry pile on the floor of your room.

His face was unreadable as always, but somehow after all the time you’ve been… what you were, you knew he wasn’t very fond of the ensemble you had put together.

“Dave?” you broke the silence, he looked back at you and moved to the side to let you into the room. Once you got in, he swiftly closed and locked the door and in one long step he was pressing his chest against your back and his half hardened cock against your ass, ripping a whimper out of your throat.

“I missed you, baby,” his voice was deep and hungry in your ear, his hands were hot and heavy roaming around your hips and your stomach, one of them traveled quickly under your hoodie and the tank top you were wearing and cupped your breast, he liked you better when you weren’t wearing a bra “I missed these tits” he pressed an open mouthed kiss on your jaw and a moan left your body without your permission, his other hand was about to snake inside your leggins when you grabbed his wrist and stopped it.

“Dave” you breathed, feeling his smirk on the skin of your neck, his hand on your chest kneaded the flesh and his fingers played with your nipple. You were wet and for the first time in god knows how long you didn’t like it.

“Say my name again” he ordered. You shook your head trying to focus.

“Dave, stop” your voice was thin but sharp and stung into him exactly like a needle. He stopped his movements but didn’t remove his hands from your body.

“What do you mean stop?” he grunted, still in your ear you tried to move your head away from his lips, to move your body away from him but his embrace was tight and it was too overwhelming for you to form a coherent sentence.

“I want this to stop” the words left your mouth before you could really measure the weight of them.

Then and only then Dave broke all contact with you, and even there, your body shivered at the loss of his heat.

“Again with that shit?” he grunted out, you looked down and tried to regain your composure “you need to understand something, baby” he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him “you’re mine” he cupped your face with both hands and pressed his mouth with yours hoarsely, your hands instinctively placed themselves on his chest and you tried to push him away “your mouth is mine” he growled, his lips traveled to your neck and he bit the tender flesh over the jugular, making you whine “this neck is mine” one of his hands snaked down and he cupped your breast over the thick fabric of the hoodie “these tits are mine” that same hand traveled further down and around your body and he fisted your buttcheek, you started trembling “this ass in mine” you shook your head again, his hand gripped your chin and you felt his fingers digging on your cheek, a shaky moan escaped you when he palmed your pussy over the leggings “this cunt is mine” he moved your head and made you look at him in the eyes. Lust and anger had darkened his brown hard eyes “you’re all mine and you’re not leaving me”.

“I’m not yours” you breathed out on his hand and when you thought his eyes couldn’t look at you worse, they hardened even more.

“No?” he pulled your head, making your forehead clash with his “are you telling me you’re not?” 

When had you become so scared of him?

You felt a familiar sting on your throat and your lower lip started trembling.

“Don’t even think about crying right now” he spat, his voice was two octaves lower than it normally is and a tear slipped out. He grumbled and lick it away off your cheek “even your tears are mine”

“Please,” you pleaded “Dave, please”

“Dave please” he mocked you and his hand moved to your neck, your breath hitched and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to squeeze “why do you wanna leave me?”

The question lingered in the tight space between your faces and you gulped hard, trying to understand if it was just a rhetorical or an actual question. The silence fell heavy and the gloomy symphony the rain was making had stopped outside.

He stood there, crazily close to you, his hand around your neck and the other grabbing your wrist. He was waiting for you to respond and you were trying to gather all your thoughts. You weren’t sure if your reasons were going to be enough for him, but you needed to try.

“Can you please let go of me?” you asked him softly, opening your eyes to meet his. “please”

His hands left your body, and he sighed, visibly tired, and you knew you had little time to try to explain to him everything you wanted before he got desperate and tried to fuck you again.

“Sit” he ordered, you stepped backwards and the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sat and he stood in front of you, crossing his arms on his chest, just waiting for you to begin.

“I–I want more” you mumbled, dropping your gaze yet again to avoid his heavy eyes on you “and you can’t give it to me”

“What more do you want?” he walked to you and his body heat made your eyes close

“You” you let out, feeling your eyes fill with tears again and your chest stung when he let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’ve got me” his voice was rough, you shook your head.

“No, I don’t” you stood up “fuck, Dave, you’re married!” you panted, his arms dropped and he just stared at you.

“Sit down!”

“Drop it!” you cut him off “you have kids!” and the sudden realization that he didn’t care about that as he looked at you with a serious but blank expression made you want to scream “and I’m what? your relief?” 

“Listen to me–” he started, you shook your head.

“No, stop!” you blinked your tears away “and I think I might be sick because I–I think I love you”

You saw his eyes shift, his strong, inexpressive facade fell for a few seconds as his brow furrowed slightly. And against your will, it gave you the smallest hint of hope.

No, he doesn’t love you, he will never love you.

“And you’re consuming me, Dave,” you let out “I don’t like the person I am when I’m with you”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that” you begged, wiping the tears that had fallen down your cheeks “I’m a mess, Dave” you sobbed out “I let you take over my life!” 

He gave a step towards you and you lifted your palm to make him stop.

“I let you control every single aspect of my life, I’m such an idiot,” he shook his head “yes! I am be–because I’m still here! I’m letting you ruin me yet another time!” 

He called your name roughly, and you shivered at the sound of it in his voice. There had been a long time since he last used your name.

“I’m not gonna let you leave,” he drawled, his voice still low. He walked towards you again and grabbed your wrists “you’re not walking out on me, you hear me?” your face quirked in pain and he let go of one of your wrists and moved his hand up to wipe your tears with the back of his fingers “you knew what you were getting into,” he cupped your face “I’m not letting you go and you will take what I give you,” he closed the distance between you.

You knew this would happen; you knew he wouldn’t accept it; you were tired. He was exhausting.

His lips were soft and warm against yours and for a moment, his touch on your face made you feel cared for.

“For how long?” you asked on his lips, he moved back to look at you with a frown “how long will you keep me?”

Were you really agreeing to this? Were you just about to take it? He was basically forcing you at that point and you were really just… embracing it?

“You really want out?” you saw him studying your face, his eyes traveled around your pained expression and you saw them flash in front of you, you blinked away the tears that had gathered in your eyes and nodded.

“You’re destroying me,” you whispered.

“How am I destroying you?” his question sounded genuine, as if he was surprised at your revelation.

“Don’t you know?” you saw him shaking his head slowly “think about it Dave, you’re too overwhelming, too apprehensive, too rough, too much,” 

“You like it” he let out, almost as if he was reminding you of it.

“That’s the thing, I love it,” you whined out “I love you and you don’t love me and all thi–”

“Who says I don’t?” he cut you off, you widened your eyes.

“What?” your voice roughened and his jaw tightened.

“Don’t think for me,” he spat, his hands moved to your shoulders “if I’m telling you I won’t let you leave it’s not because I want to keep you against your will,” you sighed “it’s because I just want you,” he licked his lips and breathed out heavily “I get it, it’s not fair, I won’t leave my family,” you felt your lids drop and a whimper left your body “I can’t give you what I already gave to them,” you felt your legs weaken and his hands slid from your shoulders to your waist as he held you “I can just give you this, and if you won’t take it, then go and I won’t bother you again”

“Fuck,” you breathed out, he broke the embrace he had you in and you sat on the bed slowly, hand resting on your thighs, head hanging low, tears slipping out. He kneeled in front of you. His face was blank again, but there was something behind his eyes that told you he didn’t want you to leave him.

For a moment you let yourself remember how everything had started. It was an autumn night, months and months before that felt like years.

You were getting into a coffee shop and he was heading out; you bumped into each other and he spilled his black coffee all over your beige coat. You had giggled, and he was almost mortified, rambling about paying the dry cleaning and buying you another coat, he even gave you his card and offered to pay for your coffee order. You told him over and over not to worry and accepted his drink offer with the condition of drinking it with him. He introduced himself and asked for your name; you had seen the golden ring in his left hand right away and yet you still flirted with him because you didn’t think he would take onto your advances; he told you he had enjoyed your company and asked for your number when you were saying goodbye.

He called you for the first time the next day and asked you out. He proposed it as two new friends getting to know each other, but the whole dinner he was eating you with his eyes. You were enjoying the way he was looking at you and talking to you and how his hand slid on the table to brush your knuckles, and when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere else you didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

That night he fucked your brains out in a nice hotel suite he had previously reserved, because he knew you wouldn’t say no.

And from there you opened up to him, he taught you new things about your body you had never known; he made you cum in so many ways you never knew were possible; he kissed you and took your breath away; he ate you out like a thirsty man drinking a glass of water after three days on the dessert; he fucked you like it was the first and the last time.

He had memorized every single thing you liked; he knew your body in ways you didn't and he let you get to know his so you could give him as much pleasure as he wanted.

Dave soon enough became the owner of every single thought and free hour you had.

He invaded your mind and your body in the most delicious way; he took over and appropriated your whispers, your sighs, your shudders, your orgasms and every gasp and moan that came out of your mouth. He was rough and broad and hard, and he praised you as you liked it, and he gave into your demands and kinks as much as you gave into his.

He became everything you wanted, and he possessed you in so many ways you stopped going out with friends to meet with him. You changed your schedule as he asked and accommodated yourself to please his needs. Dave occupied your life and you let him.

Yet you knew nothing about him.

Of course he told you he was married. But you found out he had two daughters when you picked up his wallet from the floor and saw the picture of them he had inside. He never told you their names or their ages. He never told you what he did for a living or where he lived.

And after some time he stopped taking you into nice hotel suites and started meeting you in cheap motels. He started being rougher, and you started loving him. 

And every orgasm he took out of you and every sigh and moan and whimper and gasp came out of you with so much love you knew he could feel it, yet he said nothing and made sure you didn’t ask for more.

You didn’t know at what point it became unbearable, unsustainable, incredibly hard to meet him. You started thinking about his wife, about his daughters, about the things he had with them and not with you. 

You scourged yourself for starting it and then having the audacity of asking for more.

Then you asked him to stop all of it for the first time, and he just brushed it off and fucked you with his fingers and his mouth and his cock until you forgot the idea.

The second time you asked, he took you to dinner after having you ride him for two hours and ripped out of you so much pleasure you thought it was going to change something.

But it didn’t.

And so on.

And now he was kneeling in front of you while you sobbed your eyes out and he was still as overwhelming and overpowering as he always was, yet his body radiated so much heat you wanted to rip his clothes off and show him how much he had made you love him.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he muttered, taking your hands and intertwining them with his “you keep roaming around my mind like it’s your job to invade my every thought,” you looked at him and his eyes pulled something inside you that didn’t have a name until that same moment “I think about you when I’m fucking my wife, and I have to stop myself from calling her by your name,” two thick tears escaped your eyes and he took a hand out of the entanglement on your lap to brush them off softly “I need you,”

He said he needed you and you believed him. You needed him too, even though he was never going to fully be yours, even though he would never give you what you wanted and the cheap motels or the nice hotel suites and the sporadic dinner dates would never be nearly enough.

He said he needed you and you needed him more. More than he could ever need you. You needed him and wanted him and loved him so bad you were willing to take in whatever he wanted to give you from himself, even if it was scraps and crumbles of an already taken and loved man.

“Fuck, Dave,” you looked at him, his eyes deep and mysteriously bewitching, and you knew instantly, you would let that man break you in infinite pieces, you would let him use you and manhandle you as he pleased and you would let him ruin you over and over again.

“I need you” he repeated, with another connotation. He needed your body, and you needed his. You let out a heavy sigh and lifted your hands to cup his face, he immediately pushed himself up and took your lips on his.

His kiss was eager, anxious and hungry. His hands moved to your waist, and he slowly made you lay on the bed, leaning down with you to hover over your body with his knees on each side of your thighs on the mattress, without breaking the kiss.

Dave slid a hand inside your hoodie and started wandering around the skin of your belly and your chest. His hand was still warm and his touch was softer than it had been the last few dozen times he had touched you.

You let out a soft whimper when his tongue licked your lower lip and gained access to your mouth; he let you put your hands around his neck and your fingers started playing with the short hair on his nape.

“Your lips are mine” he whispered against your lips, you smiled softly. Of course.

“Yours, ”

His hand inside your hoodie moved to your breast, and he started playing softly with your nipple, you felt your arousal gathering inside your thighs.

You felt a tug inside your lower belly when he moved his mouth to your neck and started leaving kisses on the soft skin, Dave hadn’t kissed your neck like that since the first time he had fucked you.

“Your neck is mine” his breathing hit the wet spot he had kissed, and you moaned.

“Yours,”

His other hand played with the hem of your leggings, and he licked your earlobe.

“Stand up, let me take off your clothes,” he whispered into your ear, it wasn’t an order but it wasn’t a plea, you moaned and he moved back to help you stand off the bed.

You stood in front of him and he grabbed the hem of the hoodie; he lifted it up, and you raised your arms for him to remove it from your body; he dropped it on the floor next to him and did the same with the tank top you were wearing underneath. His eyes stayed glued to your breasts, and he raised his hands to cup both of them. He walked to you and kissed you again, kneading the flesh softly as he breathed in the sighs you were letting out.

“Your tits are mine” he whispered on your lips.

“Yours” your hands moved to his chest, and you started to unbutton his shirt nimbly.

He let you slide his shirt off and drop it on the floor. You moved to his belt and unbuckled it.

Dave snaked his hands from your chest to your waist and then around your body to caress both buttcheeks over the fabric of the leggings.

“Your ass is mine” he whispered, you nodded as you unzipped his pants and slid your hands from his waist through his briefs to his own ass and knead him for a second. Dave looked at your face and you smiled at him softly, he saw your puffy red eyes from crying and leaned down to kiss you again.

For a moment you let yourself forget all the powerfully negative things you had felt about the whole situation. His lips being soft and warm enough for you to blank your mind.

You wanted to ask him why was he being so soft with you, but you didn’t want him to stop.

He moved his hands from your ass back to the waistband of your leggings and pulled down along with your underwear, breaking the kiss only to help you get out of them and out of your shoes.

“Lay down” he murmured, again not ordering yet not pleading. And you did as you were told.

Dave removed the rest of his clothes and grabbed your knees, spreading you open in front of him, he saw you wet and his hand trailed all the way up your thigh; he slid two fingers across your slit; you gasped at the contact and your hips circled, trying to get closer to his hand.

He leaned down and supported himself on one hand, his knees between your legs, while bringing the hand in between your legs to your mouth and spread your arousal on your lips.

You were about to lick them to taste yourself when his lips clashed into yours, hungrier than before, both of you tasting your juices in the kiss.

Your hand reached down between your bodies to grab his hardened cock and pump him a few times, his kiss became sloppy and wet as you played with the pre semen on the tip, he let out a grumble when you choked the head with your thumb and your index around it and he bit your lower lip when you squeezed it.

He took your wrist as he broke the contact of your lips and removed your hand from his cock; you knew what was coming and you spread your legs wider to give him space.

Dave lined himself up to your slit and played the tip up and down from your entrance to your clit and pressed it on the bundle of nerves, ripping a loud moan out of you.

“Dave, please,” you whispered, he was looking at you, his brown eyes were less hard and less dark and you moved your hips to try to get him closer to you.

“What, baby,” he asked, low voiced.

“Fuck me,” you said, he gave you half a smile as he slid himself into your core, his hand gripping your hip. You let out a sigh in relief as he painfully slowly bottomed up.

He stayed inside for a few seconds for your walls to stretch and get used to his thickness.

“Your cunt is mine” he whispered, looking into your eyes, you nodded and he kissed your temple “you’re still so tight, baby,” he pulled out almost entirely and thrusted into you slowly “so tight and wet as the first time I fucked you”

You curled your arms around his shoulders when he hid his face in the crook of your neck and let out a moan when he circled his hips inside you and hit ever so slowly that sweet spot that only his cock could find.

“Dave, shit,” you gasped when he thrusted into you harder “no–nobody could,” he pounded into you again “e–ever fuck me like you do,” 

You felt his smirk on your skin and he licked and kissed the skin that was within reach of his mouth, moving his hips faster until he found a pace that made you squirm and whine under him.

“You’re all mine, baby,” he breathed on your ear “say you’re mine,”

“I’m yours, Dave,” his hand snaked from your hip to the spot you were joined and he gathered some of your arousal with his fingers, he started circling his wet fingers on your clit and you whimpered “oh my–god, Da–Dave,”

“Fucking say you’re mine,” he moaned again in your ear as his hips moved faster “you’re mine to take, mine to use mine and only mine,” his thrust became deeper, “your body and your mind are mine, say it,” his fingers played your clit nimbly.

“Shit,” you hissed out, closing your eyes and clenching around him, he moaned your name “I’m yours, Dave, I’m all yours,” you cried out as you felt your core on fire and the known tide of sensations drowned you from the inside of your lower belly “I’m so close,” you panted.

“Cum around my cock, baby,” he moved faster and his fingers slid into your pussy almost by themselves and you felt so full by his cock and his hand you felt your orgasm hit you like a giant wave in the middle of a storm.

You cried out his name once, twice, three times as he fucked you through your high chasing his own orgasm.

He moaned your name again, and he lifted his head from your neck to kiss you. His fingers were still inside you along with his cock and he was so close he could see white spots behind his closed eyes.

“Dave please come inside me,” you whispered against his lips, he kissed you again and you bit his lower lip, he opened his eyes to see your post orgasmic smile and your glassy eyes “claim me, fill me up, baby,” you pleaded “please, I want to feel your cum,” he moaned again and pounded deep once, twice and you felt his hot seed spilling inside your core.

“Fuck,” his breath hitched “holy shit, baby,” he pulled out his hand out of your pussy as his cock finished spurting and he licked his fingers clean. You smiled at him and he stuffed them into your mouth. You giggled, licking his saliva and the rest of your juices off.

He watched you recover your breath, and you traced his clean shaven jawline with your fingers. He moved his head to kiss your palm without losing eye contact.

“You’re not getting rid of me,” he muttered against your hand.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’m gonna make some changes,” he breathed. You nodded, “but you're not leaving,”

“I'm not leaving,”

“Good,”

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

Wildest Dreams

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 9

"He only saw her in his dreams."

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 3,695

Warnings: language as always, angst and some tiny fluff (probably not in the way you want), alludes to sex, Odin. one malec reference.

A/N: okay so, this chapter is different since it is mainly introspective about Loki's time in the 6 months he has been back in Asgard- so that's that about the timeline.

A/N2: I really hope you'll like it so let me know by reblogging and commenting! If you want to be on my taglist let me know by sending an ask! Thank you @chrissquares for the dividers! and the amazing @nacho-bucky

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

Month one in Asgard.

"Brother I assure you all will be well. I'll make sure she will be safe." Thor had told him that before he left for Midgard.

The gesture was nice but while he did want you to be safe he didn't want to know who you are hanging with.

You'll find a way to move on and so will he. Once this all will be over Loki will finally get some peace and his life will return to normal, nothing lasts forever after all.

Life as a prince was supposedly comfortable, and so a prince's chambers should be as well. But as he was lying on the big soft bed in his large room, he couldn't have felt more alone. The bed was too big, the sheets were too cold, and the surfaces of the room were too empty of life- he could find a million faults to his room if he tried.

Loki didn't stay in his room often then, as a prince he could do whatever he wants and he could go anywhere he wants- well, almost.

Sparring was a great hobby he developed when he was angry, having a chance to politely beat down another person often sounds delightful to him then. It was almost empty now at the sunset but he found an opponent.

He could feel and hear his own heartbeat as he took in a breath and looked into the sunset as the warrior took his stance in front of him.

'The Norse Gods are almost immortal.'

The sentence lingered in your head. Maybe buying this book was a bad idea. At the knock on your door you quickly shut the book and shoved it under the sofa cushion.

A moment later Loki walked in with a batch of freshly picked flowers, they didn't look like they were from around here, you only hoped these flowers can survive on their own so you wouldn't kill them.

"Hello my love, are you ready for our date?" you got up to him with a smile, he put the flowers in a vase that appeared on your table, once he was in your reach you gave him a peck on the lips.

"Yes, let's go!" The relationship was still new but you were happy that you still had that same chemistry that the two of you had before.

That sentence kept your mind busy as you drove out of the city, away from the crowd of people and into a high solitary space.

"I could've just teleported us there my love, you know that right?" he looked at you as you drove, the sun was shining over you and he couldn't look away. The view of you in the sunlight with your best dress and red lips is easily more stunning than anything he had seen in all the realms.

"Yes, but it's more fun this way." You insisted on having some of the dates be normal and human.

"How is driving for such a long time fun?" you saw him shake his head from the corner of your eyes.

"Just relax Loki, I'll put on some great driving songs." He groaned but you only laughed.

It was an hour or so later that you reached your destination- it was an amazing view seeing all the trees and rocks as you finally parked on the dry ground of the mountain hill spot you found for Loki and you.

Loki stepped outside and laid out the picnic you packed up as you looked down on the beautiful horizon as the sun began to set.

Loki came up behind you and curled his hands around your waist.

You could've stayed in that content moment forever. The sentence still lingered in your brain.

"Loki?" you called to him and he only hummed in response, his lips kissing your hair.

"Yes, darling?"

"Say you'll remember me." You asked him in a low voice.

"What?"

"Say you'll remember me, here at this moment, standing in a nice dress and staring at the sunset with you."

"I promise you my dear," he kissed your shoulder and you felt him smiling. "Every time I see you, I'll remember this moment. I'll relish it forever."

•

Month two in Asgard.

It was different, spending the time with her here was nothing like being with you there- but maybe that's a good thing.

He was trying to get used to all the same emotions he felt all those years go. The regret, the knowing that he has to let go completely, the anger and temporary solutions, and then there's the sadness.

It was a familiar process, but having you again just reminded him of everything he lost and how everything has changed after he first let you go.

The first time he let you go, it almost killed him. And now he didn't know how his own mind would work to survive this.

He spent days in meetings and peace negotiating. His father kept him busy whether it was with Iyllir or work, it didn't matter.

She was excited about the wedding- their wedding. He chimed him whenever she asked for his opinion.

"What do you think about the flowers? Besides the ones I already picked of course." The lady smiled at him and waited for his answer. Anything besides your favourite flower would be fine.

The only real thing in this month for him was the work he was doing- negotiating peace was not an easy task. Granted, he could've solved it long ago but where is the fun in that?

"It was a wise choice to listen to my advice. I'm sure your decision to marry soon to be Princess Iyllir will make everyone happy." Odin told Loki as he followed the Allfather into yet another meeting. Entering the room, Loki looked at the blonde who sat next to his seat- he wasn't supposed to be in this meeting.

Taking the seat next to him, Thor smiled at his brother.

"Brother," Loki greeted him and continued to look forward at the table. "Are you not supposed to still be in Midgard?"

"I am, but I returned for a bit," Thor lowered his eyes then. "I heard about the marriage, I'm happy for you."

His pat on the back felt gentler than the usual forceful ones. To Loki it was quite unsettling.

"To be quite honest, I thought you won't do it because-"

"Thank you brother, I look forward to the marriage, it's the right choice."

"Is it?" Thor asked his brother lowly, the meeting was already starting and Loki didn't respond but it was probably best to leave this topic for now. Thor had never seen his brother the way he was when he was with you, it was clear that you mean a lot to him, so it made it that much more worrisome that Loki was going to go through with the arranged marriage. Thor knew Loki would've easily gotten out of it if he wanted to.

•

Present day on Midgard.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Thor stood there with all of his friends from work looking at him silently.

Natasha was the one to break the silence, "Y/N has been kidnapped and we think the Asgardian problem that we have on our hands right now was the cause of it."

"Y/N has been kidnapped?" His brows furrowed and he put his hammer on the table. "When did this happen?"

"Last week, you weren't here."

"I had to attend a ball for my brother and…" he trailed off.

"Right, I'm sure the wedding was lovely." The captain retorted.

"We really don't need to talk about," Wanda started and looked between Pietro and Clint.

"The wedding hasn't occurred yet." Thor settled in a seat right in front of Steve. "Did you manage to find out where she might be?"

"If we did then she would've been home by now."

"No, we've got nothing so far." Nat glared at Steve before she returned to look at Thor.

"Well you could've told me sooner, I'm sure my brother will be able to help."

"What? Are you crazy?" Steve let out a bitter laugh and stood up. One of his hands was a fist on the table and the other was pointing at Thor. "He is not coming anywhere near here."

The dark tone in Steve's voice left no room for arguments. Tony only heard it once before and so he took Steve out of the room before anything could happen.

•

Month three in Asgard.

"I see that you've read the books that I recommended you already." Iyllir sat next to him on the dark blue couch in the large palace library. Gold and blue were all around and the smell of old books filled the air.

"Yes they were very interesting," She put a hand on his arm delicately. "You have incredible taste in books my prince."

He nodded at that and quickly picked up one of the books from the pile that was set aside on the table. The guide to the old weapons of the nine realms- he remembered reading it as a child, he used to sneak into the vaults and look around at all the hidden things he found there that he read about in his books. Whatever he didn't recognize he would pick it up and study it. There may have been a couple of accidents there- but come on, what did you expect?

Now the book let his mind wander to the happenings on earth. He heard Thor talk about how it is going there in hushed whispers, but he never stuck around to actually hear anything in fear it would be about you.

He didn't need to know how you were doing, who you were hanging with or what you were up to.

"Loki?" He got snapped out of his thoughts. He looked back at Iyllir who had an unreadable look on her face, he found it hard to read people when he was so caught up inside his own mind, but her face soon took on a gentle smile. "You drifted off a bit. You're here with me now, there's no need to dwell over anything- so let's leave this book aside, it seems to put you in a bad mood."

Iyllir took the book from his hands and put it behind her. She then linked her hand with his and caressed his arm, her head leaning on his shoulder.

His mind now wandered to her and their wedding that was coming soon. Iyllir did manage to put herself in his mind where you should be, so maybe this was the right call after all.

Loki smiled at her and they continued to engage in conversation.

•

Month four in Asgard.

It was hard to admit that he enjoyed Iyllir's company.

Her lips were soft, and he appreciated the way they made thoughts disappear from his brain.

"Did you really turn into a snake?" Iyllir's laugh joined his as he recalled the memory.

"He was quite shocked, we were eight at the time."

"That was quite clever of you, my prince." She laughed and let her head fall onto his chest as they lay in his bed, covered in green silky sheets.

"Well, I'm always clever."

"Now you're just giving yourself too much credit, you are not always clever." You laughed at him.

He shook his head and turned back to her.

"What do you think about going out of the castle for a bit, go for a couple of days to a small cabin far away from other asgardians just the two of us?"

She nodded enthusiastically and leaned up to a kiss.

•

"This place is beautiful, but I wish we would've brought maids with us- you shouldn't do any of these things, you're a prince. I sent a letter so hopefully the servants will get here soon."

"Oh, I was quite content with using my magic, but how thoughtful of you."

"Now you'll get to spend more time with me." She whispered to him and walked over to him, putting her hands around Loki's neck.

He pulled her closer.

"That is true." He said in between kisses, moving the two of them backwards until Iyllir's knees touched the bed.

"You know, it is not really proper for a man and woman to be in bed together like this before their wedding night." She moaned at the kisses he trailed down her neck.

"When did I ever care about such formalities, my dear?" she let out a breathy laugh as he laid her on the mattress and he hovered above her. "And I know for a fact that you don't either."

Loki was in bed, opening his eyes and seeing the redheaded girl still sleeping next to him, her bare back shone in the sun. They were twisted in bed sheets, and Loki looked back up at the ceiling and tried to go back to sleep, closing his eyes.

"Loki, come cuddle me, I'm cold." Your sleepy voice called out to him.

"Okay, love." He moved himself closer to the body next to him. Opening his eyes for a second, he got snapped back to reality when he realized that you weren't the one in his bed, he was cuddling someone who wasn't you.

He shook his head and tried to fall asleep when Iyllir pressed back against him.

•

Month five in Asgard.

The ballroom was massive and adorned with gold and touches of green. The people there were ecstatic about the upcoming wedding.

The crowded room was full of people drinking mead and eating and dancing. But it all seemed just a bit too much for him.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think this will happen to him that this would be his life. Every girl was here with the most beautiful dresses but all he could remember was you, dancing with him in your best dress, you could easily beat any girl here with that dress and your beauty.

Loki was seated next to the Allfather and Iyllir, watching over the room as more and more new asgardians came to pay their respects and congratulate the happy couple. Thor came up behind them and patted Loki on the back before he took him away to drink.

According to Thor it was a necessity.

After that he had a dance with his soon to be wife, only a few kisses were engaged, Loki didn't like being as affectionate out in the open, in front of so many people.

The dance ended and the mead started to kick in, and if he was honest it was quite amusing to see Thor drunk as he talked, or more so yelled, to his friends.

After the ball he didn't see Thor as much, he must be busy with… whatever that was happening on Midgard. He won't let himself think too much about it, so he kept himself busy with wedding preparations and council meetings.

He spent the month buried in work during the day, and clearing his head during the night.

•

Present day in Midgard.

"Tony, I already told you that her powers don't have any energy trackers that we can build on."

"Bruce, we already scoured hydra bases. We found no information about her." Tony looked at the screen in front of him before pushing it aside, startling Bruce. "Sorry."

The doors to the lab opened and they turned to see Thor coming in with a short smile.

"Have you got any news about Lady Y/N?" he looked around the room anxiously, his next words would certainly get a reaction from the two scientists. "Do you need my brother's help?"

"Thor, I don't think that's a good idea." Tony exchanged a look with Bruce and he rubbed his eyes. "But no, we still don't know where she is."

"Why refuse his help?" Thor's voice grew louder. He then looked at the door when it opened for Steve and Wanda.

"We already told you Thor, we don't want his help." Steve chuckled darkly, so Wanda put her hand on the captain's shoulder then, trying to ease the tension.

"Thor, this isn't something Loki can help with, this is hydra."

"He will still do whatever he can, he still cares for her-"

"Besides, he is probably busy preparing for his wedding, isn't that right?"

"You are being judgmental Steve," Thor came towards Steve. "You're not thinking rationally."

"Oh I am judging him just right. If you're only here to try and vouch for your brother than you may as well go."

"Steve!" Wanda called him but he didn't budge his stare from the Asgardian prince.

Thor left shortly after.

Steve ignored the stares.

•

"Father, the elves are calming down, if we send some aid we could make sure peace is settled." Loki talked to his father in the throne room.

"If we send aid, they could use it against us. They could just be faking submission." Loki held back a laugh.

"I'm not the god of lies for nothing father, I'd be able to tell if they were faking it. Trust me about this." The doors opened with a bang, shutting behind the blonde prince as he strode towards Loki.

"My son, what are you doing here?"

"Loki," Thor ignored his father and Loki got up and looked at Thor at the strange occurrence. "Y/N has been kidnapped, you need to come back."

"She what?" His heartbeat sped up and he could feel the warm sensation of anger rise in him from the fear.

"Who is this girl?" Odin looked between his two sons when none answered. "Thor?"

"A girl from Midgard, she's an Avenger." He looked over Loki and nodded his head, he needed to be the one to talk.

"She's just a girl that I knew from Midgard." He said to his father with his jaw clenched, then he turned to Thor. "Thor, what happened?"

"They think she's got taken because of her powers, or because of the Asgardian technology that was stolen."

"My sons, you will answer to the questions I pose. Now tell me, what powers does she posses? If she has a part in the problem we have on Midgard then I deserve to know that."

Thor nodded, encouraging Loki to speak up.

"She has the power to insert herself into people's minds and control what they see and feel." He shook his head at his father. "She has no role in this father, she should not be mixed with Asgardian business."

The Allfather was quiet then before he shifted in his throne.

"Son, you know her for quite some time isn't that right?" Loki nodded and looked down.

"And you seem to care for her, too." He was no longer asking but Loki found himself nodding anyway. "Did she know about you being an Asgardian?"

"Yes, she knew who I was."

"So have you ever used your magic on her?" Loki was halfway into shaking his head before he stopped and remembered that night he spent comforting you, sitting on the tile of your bathroom.

"Only once," he thought back at the ancient spell.

"Tell me now my son, has it ever crossed your mind that such powerful magic as the one you have will affect a mortal immensely?"

"What are you saying father?" Thor looked up at Odin.

"It was a powerful spell…" Loki was still in thought about his actions that night, he must have been emotional.

"Her powers can be of Asgardian source, the mortal's powers sound like old Asgardian magic- the reality stone that was stored here long ago. The spell must have been from those ancient time, and so it stored immense powers- the kind that a mortal could not bear."

"So is that why they took her? Because of my magic, they took her because of me." Loki mumbled to himself.

"Loki, no don't say that-"

"It's true Thor! I'm going to get her back." Loki didn't wait for Odin to object before he all but ran out of the door. Odin didn't object.

"Thor, go after him. If he finds her, he will find the rest of the stolen weapons." Thor nodded to his father before following his brother.

•

Steve looked at the papers scattered on the lab.

"This is a nightmare."

"I've had better nightmares." Natasha spoke from next to him. "You should go rest a bit, you look like hell."

He smiled at her but it barely reached his eyes. You were a part of his family, losing you is not an option. He didn't know where you were and he didn't want to think about what you may be going through.

He wasn't the only one who cared about you, he knew that, but it still felt like they don't understand.

He turned around to go get water, when he almost ran into someone.

Looking up he saw the blue eyes of the raven haired prince. His tiredness suddenly disappeared when he took in the cold demeanor and rage filled eyed.

"I've been away for six long months and meanwhile you let her get kidnapped just like that?" Loki's voice was low and Steve didn't notice Thor walk in right after Loki, he didn't hear Bucky calling him.

"You are not welcome here Loki, and don't talk about it as if it isn't your entire fault."

The answer he got was in a dark laugh.

"Oh captain, I'm afraid I'm way past asking permission." Loki moved past him. "How long was she gone?"

"Almost a month," Bucky replied, looking between Steve's clenched posture and the same one that Loki held. "Can you find her?"

"I'll do whatever it takes." He nodded to the soldier and Bucky recognized the vulnerability in his eyes.

"Her powers are Asgardian, they came from me." Loki looked at the different screens, the room was quiet. "Doctor Banner, do you think you could track my energy signature? She should have some part of it inside her."

Loki looked back at the doctor, awaiting a response.

"Yes, I will just need to take some of your-"

"Take what you need."

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

Lock and Key

Gif credited to @demivampirew​

Pairing: Henry x Female!Reader

Summary: Smut. It’s aaaaalllll smut. Just enjoy the ride.

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only

Word Count: 2400

Warnings/Content: PWP Explicit smut. Oral (female receiving). Unprotected Sex. Adult language and situations. Please let me know if it needs to be tagged for anything else.

A/N: This is me shamelessly pandering to my own fantasies. Real life has been unrelentingly stressful the last few weeks. Combined with the fact that I am working on a multi-chapter story that is currently putting me through the wringer, I just had to blow off some steam. This was actually supposed to be part of said multi-chapter story, but I decided to release it unto the hellscape to appease the writing gods. 

I hope you enjoy!

 Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own. 

Reposting my works on any other sites or platforms is strictly prohibited (my official AO3 is linked in my master list). Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

“Dear God, Henry, will you just get it in already?” you groaned, your legs clamping tighter around his waist. The hard, cold metal of the knocker dug into your back as Henry pressed you against the door.

“Don’t get cheeky.” Henry awkwardly shifted your weight against his thigh as the arm around you tightened its grip. “I just can’t find the hole.”

“I–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” He shot you a fiery look whilst he fumbled with his keys; his current attempts at multitasking did not effect expediency.

A sly smile spread across your lips as you tugged up the front of his shirt. Your hands slid across the warm skin of his stomach and your fingertips teased playfully along the underside of the waistband of his trousers.

Henry echoed your earlier groan with his own and caught your mouth in a hurried, inelegant kiss. There was a distinct scrape of metal against metal, and you heard the key turn into the lock. Henry pulled back and let out a whoop of triumph, but as he pushed, the door wouldn’t budge.

“For fuck’s sake!” He pushed his entire body into yours, trying to dislodge the door with your combined weights. When it didn’t work, he tried again. And again.

And again.

“Henry,” you gasped as he manoeuvred his weight into you over and over, desire rippling across your nerves. If he didn’t get that door open soon, you were going to give the neighbours quite a show.

“Henry,” you said more urgently, gently smacking at his shoulders when he pushed into you again. “Just put me down until you sort out the door.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he growled, driving you against the door again for emphasis. “I like you just where you are.”

“But–”

“I can get it!” He cursed through frustrated grunts.

“Yeah, you can.” You smirked, unable to help yourself.

Without warning, the door suddenly gave way, and you squealed as you pitched backward. Henry stumbled when he tried to steady you, but with the sudden loss of stability, there was no stopping your momentum. He pulled you to his chest and twisted sharply, trying to cushion the blow with his body, just as you wrenched to the side at the same time to try to buffer his fall. A resounding thud echoed around the foyer when you landed on the floor in a crumpled heap of tangled limbs.

Henry groaned as he shifted; his arm was caught under your shoulder, but you were pinned under his hip.

There was an audible gasp and you wheezed with uncontrollable laughter, your lungs burning from the lack of air.

“Christ, are you okay?” He quickly pushed himself up so not to crush you beneath his weight. He glowered back toward the door, catching the corner of it with his boot to slam it shut.

“I’m fine.” You took another shaky breath; the only pain you felt were the aches in your sides from the hilarity of it all. “Are you okay? You took the brunt of the fall.”

“I’m used to doing my own stunts,” he remarked mildly, easing gingerly onto his knees.

You burst into another fit of laughter, but it was soon drowned out by the rhythmic thundering of Kal racing through the house. His low growl disappeared when he realised he wasn’t coming face to face with intruders.  

You twisted onto your side and waved. “Hi Kal.”

“Bye Kal.” Henry snagged one of the many rope toys strewn across the floor and pitched it down the hall, sending Kal careening after it.

You turned back to Henry with an arch expression, “You do realise he’ll just bring it back.”

“I’ll be busy, and he’ll get the hint.” His lips set in a smug grin as he prowled toward you, firmly gripping your hips before he yanked you toward him.

“I should check you for any injuries,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Can never be too careful.”

Your breath caught and anticipation skittered across your nerves as he hovered over you, blocking out what little light filtered through the cracks of the shuttered blinds. Henry smiled, a slow and seductive curve of his lips, and brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth. He flicked his tongue against the sensitive patch of skin, then proceeded to lightly feather kisses over your forearm.

“Nothing here,” he whispered against your skin, stopping briefly to lave at the inner bend of your elbow before continuing up your arm.

When he nuzzled the base of your neck, your eyes fluttered shut, taking in every ounce of sensation from his tender assault.

Henry’s teeth softly scraped over the line of your jaw; his thumb smoothing over your parted lips as he turned your face from side to side, dropping a brief kiss on each cheek.

“Nor here.” He nipped at your earlobe before resuming his journey down your other arm.

Your breath shuddered in your chest. The tingles of arousal that sparked over your skin whipped into a frenzied blaze when his rough fingertips snaked under your soft cotton t-shirt, tracing along your ribs before gripping your waist.

“How about here?” With a strong tug, he ground your centre against his thigh.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. Your eyes flew open as your back arched off the floor. He ground against you again, coaxing a guttural moan from your throat.

“I could listen to that all night,” he said with a smirk that was dark and full of promise.

He worked you against his thigh in a steady rhythm; his gaze was hot and wild, greedily taking in every moan and whine as you writhed against him. Dampness pooled between your legs as you desperately sought more pressure than your clothing would allow. 

“H-henry.” Your fingers dug bruises into his forearms.

He chuckled, leaning over to drop slow lazy kisses around your exposed navel. The burning ache of your desire; the heat of his breath on your bare skin; the agonizing pace at which he removed your jeans; it was all threatening to unravel you with unimaginable speed.  

“Needy tonight, aren’t we?” His hands skimmed back over your bare legs before he hooked an arm around your back, pulling you off the floor to seat you fully in his lap.

You could feel the hard length of him throbbing beneath you, insistently pushing against your core. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and rolled against him.

“Desperately.” You caught his mouth with yours, swallowing Henry’s deeply shuddered moan.

It was a kiss that buried itself in your very soul. His large hands cradled your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he devoured you. It was all tongue and teeth, and your lips felt battered and bruised in the best way possible.

The predacious growl rumbling in his chest vibrated straight through you, sharpening the steadily growing ache in your belly. Henry had an unnatural talent for commanding all of your senses, but the sounds he made never failed to turn you completely molten.

Henry broke the kiss with a reluctant grunt. He quickly snagged the hem of your t-shirt and ripped it over your head, flinging it unceremoniously across the room. Your bra followed with haste.

“Good god, you’re beautiful,” Henry murmured against your clavicle. It was a tender moment that made your skin erupt in gooseflesh. His hands felt everywhere at once. Skimming over the swell of your hips, palming reverently over your bare breasts and budded nipples. His lips left a trail of fire across the sensitive column of your neck, and your head immediately lolled back; his tongue was warm and wet and sinful as he gently suckled the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

“Mine,” he growled; his hot breath skated over your ear, and the raw possessiveness in his voice made your entire body clench.

Whatever was left of your control quickly crumbled. You clawed impatiently at the back of his shirt, and when he finally yanked it over his head, your hands wasted no time pressing into every inch of him. Even skin to skin didn’t feel close enough. He radiated heat; it was a scorching, cajoling intensity that threatened to engulf you, and you welcomed it with open arms.

You gasped something strained and unintelligible when his hands raked across your back. Your lips parted and you drew in a shaky breath as his fingers dug into the hypersensitive line of your spine. Even in the dark he watched, pale eyes shadowed with want, when you arched into him; each finger burrowed into one pressure point after another as they clawed upward, and by the time his hand gripped the nape of your neck, you were teetering dangerously on the edge.

“Tell me what you want,” Henry rasped, resting his forehead on yours; his voice was ravaged and desperate. The sound alone made you whimper. “Say it.”

You caught his chin firmly between your fingers, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips before you slid off his lap and onto the floor. The cool wood chilled your feverish skin, and your eyes never left his as you leaned back onto your elbows.

“Fuck me, right here, and don’t you dare be nice about it."

Your mouth twisted with a smirk as you watched him, his breathing laboured as he frantically stripped away the rest of his clothing. Henry always prided himself on being infuriatingly controlled, relentlessly teasing you into a hot and bothered mess whilst he remained cool and collected. It was gratifying in the extreme to watch the edges of his control begin to fray. He prowled back to you and, without ceremony, ripped your underwear down your legs and cast the scrap of fabric aside.

You were completely bare to him, and Henry’s expression was that of pure male satisfaction. He hummed approvingly, and your entire body erupted with heat under the scrutiny.

Henry slowly knelt before you, dipping his head between your knees. He peppered your inner thighs with wet open-mouthed kisses, his stubble scratching roughly across your skin as he made a long and tortuous ascent. When you all but demanded that he take you quickly and roughly, you hadn’t thought that he might choose to do the exact opposite. It was pleasurably cruel. You squirmed and thrashed with frustration when his lips landed everywhere except where you most ached for him.

“Please, Henry,” you sobbed, too far gone to be above pleading. It was a sweet and delicious suffering, but torment, nonetheless. A moment more and you were certain your body would defy natural law by spontaneously combusting and melting into the floor, all at the same time.

His mouth bent in a wicked curve, “I do so love hearing you beg.”

You were tempted to plant your foot in his chest and kick him across the room, just for being an insufferable tease. He seemed to sense your plotting, because before you actually had a chance to follow through with the thought, he wrenched your knees wide and descended upon you like a man starved.

His tongue took long, wide drags across your centre, lapping and whirling and flicking with intoxicating precision. Your head kicked back as you arched against him, your body riding the wave of desire coursing through you. Your lips parted in a silent cry when his tongue pressed against your entrance. Need coiled sharp and low in your belly and your legs trembled and tensed around Henry’s head. When he suckled on the throbbing nub of your clit, your hands scrabbled across the floorboards as you tried to find purchase against the intensity.

“Are you trying to get closer or further away?” he asked playfully. His large hand splayed across your lower abdomen and pressed you firmly in place, the pleasurable pressure making you ache and moan.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, completely shocked that you managed the single word response.

His reply dripped with self-satisfaction, “Good.”

The word was punctuated by his finger slowly gliding into you. Once; twice; thrice, before it curled toward your inner wall.

The coil drew taut and pitched you toward the edge. You moaned incoherently, your ability to speak completely lost. Your hands groped the air as you tried desperately to pull him closer. You wanted all of him – inside and all around – and you wanted him now.  Your walls clenched around his fingers and he cursed wildly, withdrawing his hand as if he had been scorched.

“I need you. Now,” he growled.

All you could manage was a frantic nod in response. He crawled up your body, the breadth of his thighs splayed your legs wide to accommodate him, and you relished the burn in your hips from the pressure. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, swift and hard and to the hilt, the force of the pleasure ripping a low cry from both your throats.

Gone were the teasing, erotic touches with which he had mercilessly tortured you. There was no gentle easing into pace. His hips snapped into you, brutal and frantic, as he chased his own release whilst bringing you to yours.

“I-I’m…” Your breath came in short, erratic gasps, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs.

Henry grunted, his head dropping with a jerking nod. There were no thoughts or words; there were only bruising grips and the scrape of nails across sweat-slick flesh. The crude squelch of your damp bodies and his fitful groans filled your ears.

You keened with a low and insistent whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into his muscled shoulders, nails indenting into his skin as the coil finally snapped, and your orgasm rent through you with devastating power.

The rhythm of Henry’s hips began to falter. His arm stole around your back, dragging you closer to him as he drove into you with punishing speed. Finally, beautifully, he roared your name as he came, and in your blissful haze, you were certain the walls shook with the force of it.

Gasping for breath, he collapsed on top of you. He crushed you with his great weight, but you were too spent to care.

With a laboured groan, Henry slid to the side, curling you around him as he moved.

“Told you I could get it,” he smiled, looking exhausted and thoroughly pleased with himself.

You laughed, drunken on satiety, “I never doubted you for a second.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XVI

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence/death, trauma, allusions to torture.

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

Summary: The king proves himself and the reader must accept her fate.

Note: Welcome back, King Loki. Y’all better be ready because our little mouse will never stop suffering.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You felt like you were suffocating, slowly under a heap of rocks. Your return to the palace was a blur. You barely recalled the ride in the carriage or the flights of stairs between you and the chambers. 

You were entirely consumed by your memories and their voices; Magnus, broken before the court, confessing his crimes. Thor, angry and brutal as ever, shouting back at the people as they cried out at their traitorous prince. Neither gave you peace; they were only trapped animals waiting to break free and lash out again.

Hal was a spot in your vision. His voice tickled your ears but you couldn’t answer him as you laid across the bed, clutching a pillow as you rocked frantically. As you calmed, spent from your fit, you rested on your side and quivered every now and then. The sobs would not come, only rattling breaths that seized your whole body.

Time slaked away like layers of ice melting into a puddle. The curtains were drawn back and revealed the shift of sunlight. A pale grey darkened to a dull slate and cast shadows around you, looming over you like the monsters in your mind.

You flinched as you heard the door, the hinges creaked and your fingers sank deep into the feather pillow. Hal greeted the king and firm footsteps marched across the floorboards. Loki’s figure appeared at the edge of your sight as you laid with your back to the hearth. He sighed as he came up behind you and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“You left rather suddenly,” he said as his hand settled on your side. You winced and hugged the pillow tighter. You hid your face against it, the feathers poking through and causing your cheeks to itch. “Mouse…”

You whimpered and curled your legs up. What had this man done to you that was any different than those two savages? You still bore the scars of his switch across your back and your only shield was the life growing in your stomach. It was him who had brought you to this; who had sentenced you to live as a piece of a flesh; who had exposed you to the barbarity of his kin and kith.

“Why?” You asked softly as you turned your head against the pillow.

“I thought… I thought you would want to see vengeance done.” He said sternly. “To see that I’ve brought those beasts to justice.”

You sniffed and shook your head. “I never wanted to see them again… I…” You shrugged and exhaled weakly. 

“I did it for you, Mouse. I dragged that animal, Magnus, down to my dungeons and cut his flesh until he did confess. I watched his blood weep from his flesh and reminded him of what he'd done to you. I made him tremble at my hands. For you.” He sneered. “I’d do it again.”

“You did it for you. For your pride.” You uttered. “You’ve never done anything for me or any other. It is all for you. They humiliated you, took your plaything, kept from you your pleasures. It isn’t about me, it is about what I can do for you.” You wiggled away from his touch, “Do not lie to me, it not only makes me a fool, but you as well.”

“Do not presume to know my will,” he snarled, “Do not talk to me as if I am your subject and not the other way around. And look at me--” He grabbed your chin and forced you onto your back, “When you speak to me, mouse.”

You blinked as a lump lodged in your throat and let the pillow fall away from you. You braced yourself for what he would do next. You remembered the noise of the hinges, the heavy footsteps, the metal against your wrists, the stony touch of loveless beings, the violent claims to your body. 

You grabbed the king’s arm and began to flail. “No, no, no,” You exclaimed, “Please--”

“Gods,” Loki said in exasperation, “Hal! Hal!” You heard softer soles on the boards, “Fetch Birger. Now.”

Loki wriggled his arm from your grasp and grabbed your shoulders. He pinned you down as you kicked out and clawed at the air. “Mouse, shhhh. Mouse!”

“No! No! No!” Your hand flew up and struck Loki’s jaw. He grunted and shook away the jolt.

He struggled with you until the door sounded again and there was a clatter of footsteps across the front chamber. Loki climbed over you as the physician appeared and touched your forehead.

“I don’t know what has come over her.” Loki said, “She has these… episodes.”

“Ah, well she is with child and only just returned from an immense situation. Her nerves are split.” Birgir rubbed your cheek calmingly, “Dear, tell me five things you can see.”

“No, no, no,” you chanted.

“Five things, dear. Five things you can see.” He urged.

“The-- The bedpost…” You wisped, “Y-Your cap… Hal… The ceiling… A chair…”

“Very well, dear, and five thing, “Three things you can feel.”

“Y-Y-Your hand,” you touched the back of his hand, “The bed…” Your eyes flicked back and forth, “The fire.”

“Great, great,” he took your hand gently, “One thing you can smell.”

“The wood. Burning wood.” You gulped.

Birger nodded and smiled at you gently. “Hal, my boy, bring my chest.”

“What is wrong with her?” The king knelt on the mattress beside you.

“I told you. It is stress.” Birger said staunchly and squinted at the king, “Have you…”

“Not in the last days.” Loki admitted.

“But since her return?” The physician prodded. The king rolled his eyes and glanced away tellingly. “And you expect you to be as she was after all that? Do you even know all that happened to her?”

“She does not speak of it.” The king huffed.

“And why should she? To you?”

“You tread a dangerous path, Birger,” Loki warned.

Birger tutted and caressed the back of your hand. “Alright, I’ll do what I can.”

“You have something which can restrain her,” Loki said, “That can calm her.”

“As her condition stands, not much.” Birger stood as Hal approached with his chest, “It is better if she is kept calm. You can burn lavender--”

“No, you will sedate her so she will sleep,” Loki ordered, “I’ve pressing matters and little energy or time for this nonsense.”

“With respect, your majesty, this nonsense is as much to do with you as it is your brother or his accomplice,” Birger insisted, “It will persist.”

“So be it,” Loki pushed himself off the bed, “Find one of your vials and do your duty. She needs sleep, not quackery.” Birger let out a long breath and tapped his fingers on the lip of the chest. “Well, you’ve something else to say?” The king challenged.

“No, your majesty,” Birger looked into his chest and stirred through the contents, “Boy, bring some milk for the woman.”

Your body was limp across the bed, suddenly without strength as you listened to the argument. It was your fault. All of it. If you could just control yourself. If you weren’t so weak and stupid.

“When you finish, you will go.” Loki neared the door. “And do not bother me on your exit.”

The king disappeared through the doorway and you looked up at Birger as he pulled out a glass vial. You saw the irritation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Why?” He asked bluntly, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

You clamped your lips shut and stared at the top of the bedpost. Hal returned and handed a cup of milk to Birger. The physician mixed in drops of the tincture and sat to hand it to you. You pushed yourself up and took it from him.

“Perhaps it is better you sleep for a time,” Birger said. “Are you eating well?”

“Yes, a lot,” you assured him and sipped the thick milk.

“Well, you make sure you keep on. Rest as much as you can.” He looked to Hal, “See if the boy is permitted to take you on walks. You must keep active as you can.”

You nodded and swallowed the milk tainted with the odd flavour of the medicine.

“Is the king rough with you? As he was before?”

You shook your head as you offered the empty cup. “Not since…” You nodded to your stomach.

“Good, good,” Birger set the cup aside and packed up his chest. “Take care, dear. I will be look in as I can.” He hauled his chest up and clapped Hal’s shoulder, “And boy, you will keep her well in my absence.”

“On my honour,” Hal promised and followed the physician to the door.

You felt heavy as you laid back and listened to Birger’s departure. The king was just in the next chamber and you heard the flutter of pages. Hal’s figure lingered as your eyelids shut and you sank down into the abyss. You were smothered by a sleep deeper than any you’d known in months.

🐍

You weren’t certain how long you slept. You woke in a fog. It was dark but for the glow of the fire and the shapes around you, the furniture shroud in grey, seemed distant and yet close. You felt light and airy and your body felt detached from your thoughts.

You lifted your head and peered around, trying to focus on the chair before the hearth. A wraith sat in it and as you sat up, you realised it was the king. You giggled and let the blankets fall away from your shoulders. He glanced over at you and tilted his head as the firelight limned his features.

“Mouse?” He said quizzically.

“Looookiiiii,” you sang as you turned your legs over the edge. He was visibly aghast at your use of his name. You only laughed again as you stood and wobbled. “Such an odd name.”

“Is it?” He lowered his brows and carefully stood to face you, “You should stay, mouse.”

“No, I’m not tired,” you argued and gave a long yawn. “I feel alive!”

“You can barely stay on your feet,” he rushed forward as you stumbled and caught you. “Come on, to bed with you.”

“Wouldn’t you like that!” You snapped and wriggled in his grasp. “But I’m hungry.”

“You’re deluded,” he rebuked.

You laughed and continued to struggle with him. “I’m perfectly well,” you slapped his chest, “I’m just…” You looked down as your stomach brushed against him and your mouth fell open. “Oh, gods…” You rubbed your middle, “I’ve already eaten too much!”

“No, mouse,” you heard a sliver of amusement in his tone, “You… you are just fine.”

“I’m fat!” You pouted and glared up at him. “Why am I so fat?”

He barely withheld a snicker and took your hand daintily. “I have some biscuits. Would you like one?”

“I couldn’t…” You shook your head as you felt your stomach. “I’m already-- but I am hungry. Just one, just one.”

“Well, you must sit if you want one,” he chided. “Understood, mouse?”

“Mouse! Mouse!” You mocked. “I hate that name. I am not a mouse.”

“Alright,” he nudged you back to the bed and you sat heavily, “Then what are you?”

“Hungry. I told you.” You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

He grinned and looked around as if confused. “It is me, Loki.”

“Your nose is big,” you said sharply. 

“Thank you,” he said rigidly. “Just wait here.”

He left you and returned with a small box. He took out a biscuit with currants baked into it and held it out. He set the box aside and sat beside you as you eyed the treat.

“What is it?”

“It’s a biscuit,” he said curtly. “Like I said.”

“Sure, sure,” you smelled it and cautiously took a bite, “Suppose it tastes like a biscuit.”

He was quiet. You flinched as you felt his hand on your back suddenly. He rubbed a circle there as you chewed and you clapped the crumbs from your hands as you finished.

“Good?” He asked.

“I told you,” you grabbed his arm and shoved it away. “No.”

He dropped his arm and nodded. He watched you as you balled your hands in fists. You stood and stomped like a child around the room.

“As good as it feels, no, no, no!” You swept your finger through the air. “But perhaps…” You stopped and thought for a moment, “No! No!” You sneered at him. “I don’t want your royal cock tonight, sir!”

At last he chuckled and you were startled by the noise. His features contorted in his mirth and you watched him with wide eyes. He stood and neared you slowly. He reached out tentatively and touched your arms.

“Fine. Not tonight.” He assured you. “But you must lay back down.”

“Why?” You quivered and looked at your body again, “Are my legs broken?”

He smirked and shook his head. “No, because it is the middle of the night.”

You frowned. “Oh.”

“So, bed?” He asked.

“Wait!” You stopped him.

“What is it now?” He sniffed.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. 

“Right,” he said and calmly led you back to the bed. “Time to sleep, mouse.”

“Hmmpf,” you grumbled at the pet name and let him lay you across the bed. “I’m not tired.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He taunted as you yawned again into your hand.

“No,” you argued and your eyes closed. “Not at all.”

“Not at all,” he echoed as he pulled the blankets over you.

He sat with you until you drifted off again though you were barely aware of him. You fell back into the warmth of the bed and the haze of your mind. The peculiar scene blending in with your senseless dreams.

🐍

You awoke facing the king. He slumbered beside you, his pale features unmarred by his waking thoughts. Your head was fuzzy and your limbs heavy. You sat up slowly and wiped the sleep from your eyes. The events of the days before slowly came back to you but did not hit you with the same force. You were anxious to think of Thor and Magnus but not terrified.

Loki groaned and reached out to touch your leg, as if assuring himself of your presence, as he stirred. You watched his long fingers as he squeezed you through the blankets and opened his eyes.

“Mouse,” he voice was hoarse as he retracted his hand and swept his dark hair back. “Is there something the matter?”

You shook your head and looked around. You didn’t like how comfortable you felt. You recalled his callous words the day before during your panic and all those times before he had been unkind. How could he sleep beside you as he would a wife? A wife…

You turned your back to him and evaded his reach again as you stood. You hugged yourself as you neared the dwindling fire and shivered. You heard the mattress move beneath him but he did not rise. You looked to the ceiling as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“Why won’t you give me an answer?” You asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What is to become of me when your wife is here?” You spun back to face him. He sprawled across the mattress as his shoulders and chest were bare above them. “I know this… will change. And I know once this babe is born, you will be done with me or cruel as you were before.”

His face darkened but he made no move to rise. He exhaled, a low growl, and rubbed his forehead.

“I needn’t tell you anything more than you need to know.” He sneered. “I will do whatever is best at the time.”

You gritted your teeth in frustration. You hated his riddles. You weren’t going to get an answer.

“My wife will do whatever I wish of her. And when I have a child on her, then you and the bastard will be of little bother.” He uttered. “And when you are ready, you will return to your original duty.”

Your chest knotted and your stomach grumbled painfully. Your anxiety mixed with your hunger and made your core a pit.

“And the child? I am to carry it to some unknown fate?”

“My child. I shall keep it safe.”

“And me?”

“You are its mother. But you are mine, first and foremost.” He bent his arms behind his head. “You will serve me before the child.”

You scowled in disgust but said nothing. He watched you and slipped his hand beneath the blankets.

“I will have a nursemaid for you. You needn’t worry for the child’s health.” He cooed.

“And my own? Do you care?”

He scoffed. “I’ve provided you with shelter, with sustenance, with a physician for your ailments. I’ve seen you well and I ask little in return.” He declared. “Remind yourself again that you are not my wife.”

“Yes, I am your whore. I am aware.” You hissed. “But you do seem to forget yourself.”

“I forget myself?” He sat up. “Oh, let us put things straight.”

You staggered backwards as he was off the bed in an instant. He seized your arm and you struggled with him as he tried to drag you back with him. 

“The child!” You cried.

“Will be well,” he snarled as he grabbed a hank of your hair and twisted your neck painfully. “Come on, mouse, you want things to be as they were.”

“Stop! I only--”

He sat and you lurched against him. He pushed you back and forced you down to your knees and drew you between his own. His cock twitched and hardened slowly as he clung to you. You pushed on his thighs and wrestled with him as he gripped your jaw.

“My patience for you is spent,” he spat as he shoved your head into his lap. “Open up, whore.”

“Please--”

“Let me give you your answer.” He bit out. “When you have born my bastard, I will use those parts of you unruined by its passage.” He squeezed until you gasped and forced his tip into your mouth. “I shall have my wife’s cunt and your mouth.”

You gurgled as he pushed against the back of your throat and slid down it. You gagged and he pulled you back. 

“Breathe,” he warned, “You don’t want to hurt the child.”

He forced you back down and you clawed at his sides. He moved your head steadily, up and down his length until he was entirely hard. You were dizzy and helpless against him. His groans and grunts added to the noise of you in his mouth and he clutched your head tighter.

He fucked your mouth until you were gasping and gulping around him. He wrenched you off of him suddenly and stroked himself to his climax, his seed stringing across your face. He released you and you fell back in a heap. He stood and stepped around you without concern.

“That is what you will be. Always.” He barked as he crossed the room. “Mine. To do with as I please.”

🐍

The days that followed were frigid and fraught. You could not forget that morning as the king’s former disposition returned fully. He left you in the morning without disturbance and you bided the hours silently, barely aware of Hal as he tried to cheer you. When Loki returned, the boy was sent away. He didn’t speak, only sat and stewed in whatever blight had angered him that day.

And when he wanted you, he had you. Hand, mouth, or cunt. You bore it and hid yourself under the covers when it was done. 

Another week gone and Hal announced that the verdict had been dealt. Loki hadn’t said and you hadn’t dared to ask. You listened as the boy explained how the jury and judges had found Thor guilty and condemned him to death by the sword. Magnus, however, was to be hung like a common criminal.

But that did not mean you would be without a villain. Loki’s moods assured you that nothing had changed at all. It assured you that your life would be as it ever was. That the fate he’d promised you down in that dungeon would come to pass. You would never escape him and perhaps, though you’d not realised it, your time with Thor and Magnus could have been your only hope at an eventual end to the agony.

You sat in limbo. You could hardly believe that they would die and yet, you feared the future beyond. For all the certainty of their sentences, yours was still frightfully abstract. You could not decide if you were appeased by their demise or envious of it.

Your inner strife was interrupted as Hal stood suddenly and you turned to watch the door open. The boy bowed to the king as he entered, clothed in fur and his horned crown. You stood and the king looked between the two of you. He raised his chin and looked down his nose.

“Get her a cloak and boots,” he demanded, “You will accompany us to the green.”

“The green? Why--”

“Gird your tongue, woman,” Loki demanded. “Haven’t you asked enough questions?”

Hal glanced at you wistfully but did as he was told. He helped you into the fur-trimmed cloak and you pulled the hood up as he helped you step into the boots and laced them tightly. Hal snatched up his own cap as he followed you and the king into the corridor.

You walked behind Loki and his guards, Hal was at your side and foreboding set deep in your stomach. You could guess at the event on the green though you hoped it wasn’t as you expected.

You came out into the blustery winter light and a crowd gathered around a stage erected over the white yard. Just before the walls of Boulder Tower, housed tight within the borders of the palace, a platform stood awaiting the executioner and his victim. You stopped short and Hal quickly caught your elbow and urged you on. The king peered over his shoulder in a wordless reproach.

The people parted as the monarch approached and you were diverted into the crowd of onlookers by another armored man. You went unnoticed as the king passed to the front of the audience and you stood alone with the steely sentinel.

A hush went over the crowd as the king stood with his head high. The hooded executioner came out onto the stage and waited by the lever. Armor clinked and announced the arrival of the criminal before he appeared. Magnus had only rags wrapped around his feet and shreds of clothing barely hanging from his form.

He twitched nervously but showed little emotion as he was herded up the steps. The hooded man came forward to wrap the noose around his neck and a holy man offered muttered prayers to the condemned.

You froze as you gaped up at the scene. It felt like a horrid nightmare. The prisoner shrugged away the holy man and strained against the rope. He looked across the green and his eyes narrowed at the king stood among the masses.

“Fuck the king!” He shouted and the lever was pulled suddenly.

The heavy body plummeted downward and all could hear the crack of his neck above their gasps. It was a sickly sound that made your legs weak. You saw Hal, close to the king’s shoulder, lower his head and a few onlookers swayed before they fainted. You felt queasy but did not waver.

You only remained as you were as slowly, those who still had sense, roused those in shock and dispersed. Those who had fallen were carried away by their companions and you still did not move. It was only as the king’s figure retreated that you were woken from your trance.

“Shall I have his skull boiled and brought to you?” He asked as he neared with his guards in tow. You shook your head and looked away from him. Your eyes stung. “Do not act as if I’m the same as they were,” he lowered his voice as he leaned in. “They would’ve killed you and the child. Where do you think they were taking you?”

You shivered and pulled your hood low to hide your distress. Loki let out a breath that clouded before him in the cold. Snow crunched as an unseen figure neared and another armoured man came up breathlessly. You peeked from beneath your cloak and king frowned at the guard’s frantic energy.

“What is it now?” He poked the guard’s breastplate harshly.

“Your majesty,” the man caught his breath in rasps, “The prince--”

“What of my brother?” Loki tensed and fidgeted as he glared at the guard.

“He is gone. He has escaped.” The guard announced. “He--”

“What do you mean he is gone?!” Loki seized the guard by the mail that poked up around his cowl. “How could he be gone?”

“It seems there was a plot. Lord Fandral and his ilk--”

“Fuck!” Loki shoved away the man and punched his palm. “Fuck!!!” He shouted and looked around at the liveried guards, “Well, you fools, go find them!”